A Weekend to Remember

To keep this short, my Friday and Saturday were eventful. I listed my car on craigslist (yes, we're selling the Maxima), I led the most difficult funeral I've done so far, I went bowling while Lisa had to attend a baby shower, and I watched the Pens game with Chip, my college roommate.

Sunday morning, we had an Aldersgate Day celebration at the church. For those of you who don't know what that is, ask your local United Methodist Clergy. If he or she doesn't know, demand they be stripped of their ordination immediately. We sang wonderfully written Charles Wesley hymns, and I read selections from John Wesley's "Salvation By Faith," one of his first sermons preached after the events of May 24, 1738.

Afterwards, our congregation threw a first anniversary dinner for Lisa and me. So that was fun. It was kinda like our wedding reception: they made us cut the cake together, we got to eat first, and we wanted to sit at every table and visit with loved ones, but instead had to sit up front. Last night, we watched our wedding video for the first time. We laughed, we cried, we danced in the living room, and we remembered how blessed we are to have such wonderful family and friends in our lives.

And today, of course, is Memorial Day. To be honest, I think this is the first time I've ever actually recognized it as more than just the first day of summer. As a child, we never got too much into celebrating any patriotic holiday beyond July 4th. And through college and seminary, this time has always been marked by transition -- getting ready for a summer job, graduating, moving to and fro around PA, Ohio, and Georgia, and even getting married on one occasion. So it was nice to watch the parade and attend the Memorial Day service here in town this year. The cemetery is beautiful all year, but especially so this week.

As a pastor, I always feel like I'm tiptoeing cautiously through these patriotic holidays and seasons. During worship yesterday, we sang one of the patriotic hymns because the worship committee insisted. During the community service today, the community singers sang "God Bless America," and the Baptist minister offered an invocation and benediction. I find it difficult to express patriotism while still ultimately directing all my praise to Jesus Christ. This is much easier to do in non-ecclesial settings like the cemetery this morning, where I can just be a proud citizen thanking God for allowing us the many great freedoms we enjoy here. And today, I can honor and remember those who have paid the price for my earthly freedom. This can be done without claiming our land is more Christian than other nations -- without claiming God favors the good old U.S.A. I am certain he does not favor us, and does not dole out grace only to countries where Christianity is alive and well (and even that is debatable these days).

However, worship is more difficult. Each week, I preach from an altar area flanked by a Christian flag on one side and an American flag on the other. Several months ago, I reluctantly allowed the local girl scout troop to lead us in the pledge of allegiance at the beginning of worship. And yesterday, I let us sing an opening anthem proclaiming our love for our country, sweet land of liberty, asking that our land may long be bright with freedom's holy light, and that God may protect us by his might. While singing, I silently prayed for forgiveness if I was in any way praising my country rather than my Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer.

If I had my way, there'd be no flag in the sanctuary. There'd be no cute little girl scouts leading us in the pledge unless we were in a cemetery park, as we were this morning. And there would be no "hymns" sung in praise of our country while we were gathered for the express purpose of praising God alone. My patriotism has no role in public worship, because when I worship God, I want to be sure it is only as a citizen of his kingdom.

I'm still wrestling with how to walk this fine line between recognizing how blessed we are by God to live in this great nation, while being sure not to mistake God's blessings for God's favoritism. Our freedoms here in the U.S.A. are not signs that God loves us any more or less than the people of any other nation. May God bless our land, but may he also bless every other land as well.

Our Story, Our Song

Last night, we had a good ole fashioned hymn sing in the sanctuary. About 25 of us gathered, ranging in age from 3 to 83. We sang for an hour and a half, and could’ve easily sung another 2-3 hours without murmuring or arguing. It was a wonderful time.

Sure, there were times when some of us “younger folk” didn’t know one of the good old Gospel hymns, and the older generations stumbled through Thy Word by Amy Grant while our youth belted it out with gusto. There was much debate over whether How Great Thou Art was a great hymn or a lousy one. And there was a stubborn pastor who refused to sing a note of Onward Christian Soldiers, one that everyone else in the room seemed to love just as much as the pastor wished to rip it out of the hymnal.

But there was also complete joy in singing Leaning on the Everlasting Arms. There was something incredibly holy about our singing of Surely the Presence of the Lord. We became a roomful of God’s children as we sang Jesus Loves Me. A couple of people spontaneously jumped up to take over the piano to sing solos. And it just seemed wrong to end with anything other than the most well-known hymn of all, Amazing Grace.

As I sat there, I felt the Holy Spirit moving through that divinely ordained place and time. I realized the importance of hymnody, and that it is one of the few musical genres (perhaps the only one) that reaches across all generations – if we allow it. It is not outdated music unless we ourselves make it so.

As I’ve come to know the congregation of West Newton, I’ve discovered that one of the favorite hymns here is the Fanny Crosby classic, Blessed Assurance. The lyrics of this hymn sum up last night perfectly. We were blessedly assured. It was “a foretaste of glory divine.” We felt “angels descending bring[ing] from above, echoes of mercy, whispers of love.” We were “happy and blest, watching and waiting, looking above, filled with his goodness, [and] lost in his love.”

This was our story, this was our song, praising our Savior, all the day long. I do hope we have more of these nights.