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Sunday Morning Coming Down, or Why Church Matters

Sunday Morning Coming Down, or Why Church Matters

How I learned that church matters…

Does church matter? It’s not uncommon these days to hear people say, “I believe in God, and I read my Bible and pray, but I don’t need to go to church.” Are they right? If we are regularly reading the Bible, if we are regularly praying, do we really need to go to church?

The short answer, I believe with all my heart and mind, is “yes.” In church, in fellowship with other believers, we hear the Word preached, and it changes us (Romans 10:17). With the body of Christ, we take part in the body of Christ, and we grow up to look like him (1 Cor. 10:16). Other believers encourage us, cheering us on, weeping with us, rejoicing with us, praying with us, serving with us, sharing the good news with us (Hebrews 10:24-25).

I could go on like this, making an argument for the necessity of church. But today I want to share a story, of how church first communicated God’s grace to me, and why, despite struggling with several broken church stories over the years, I consider it a non-negotiable spiritual grace.

Before there was church: “Silent Sundays”

I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt…the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad, so I had one more for dessert…

Maybe not the best lyrics for a seven-year-old-girl to have stuck in her head, but Kris Kristofferson’s song, as performed by Johnny Cash, is the song line of redemption that to this day, reminds me of why I love church.

I’m pretty sure the song played every Sunday morning we visited my Dad’s little rented ramshackle farmhouse, where he moved after my parents divorced. The album cover, with Johnny’s head looming large, sat propped on the three-foot-high wooden box speaker.

In that season of our lives, Sundays echoed with the “disappearing dreams of yesterday.” Sundays were the day of exchange, when my brother and I were returned from our weekend visit. Sundays were weighty, too quiet, sad.

Weighty and sad, there was indeed something in a Sunday to make you feel alone. #church #story Click To Tweet

Because of blue laws, Sundays were sleepy. Nothing except church opened on Sundays until 1. We didn’t go to church, at least not in the early years of divorce. At my mom’s, the sound of solitude echoed through our little apartment as the morning hours crept by. At 12:45, the three of us would pile into her little beige Toyota Corolla and venture out to Treasure Island, the 60’s predecessor to Target, with its wavy roof and vast concrete jungles that were beginning to pave paradise.

Don’t get me wrong. Not all Sundays were so sadly silent. There were picnics at the park and plays at the community theater, fall mornings throwing the football and spring days playing tennis. There was goodness and sweet and light. But it seemed that darkness hovered, threatening to overcome it.

Johnny Cash crooned out the longing I couldn’t quite place:

Somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing, and a Daddy with a laughing little girl he was swinging….

Church and “laughing little girls”

It was at church that I first caught glimpses of the laughing little girl inside me. At my grandmother’s house, where my brother and I stayed for a month in the summertime, Sunday meant church. More than once, I was sent back upstairs to put on my slip (a thin undergarment that we wore under sheer materials like dotted swiss!!). We went first to Sawnnnn-da School, as my grandmother assured everyone I used to call it. We sat at small tables under the kind expression of blue-eyed Jesus (Yikes! I didn’t say church was perfect!) and colored lost sheep. After church, as a special treat, we went to the church library and checked out clean-smelling hardback books.

When my brother turned sixteen and had the freedom to drive, he decided we should start going to church. In fact, he decided that we ought to be confirmed. (I never thought to argue). We had been baptized in a small chapel as infants, and over the years, we had occasionally visited the colossal cathedral when our mom or dad, whoever had us, was attending. Now, as teenagers, off we went, Sunday mornings for church and Sunday school and back on Sunday afternoons for confirmation classes. Sundays now offered purpose and structure and something to study, which this little teacher-girl always loved.

Now there was something in a Sunday that made the body not feel so alone. #church #story Click To Tweet

Even after I was a confirmed member of the Church, it took me another year to understand the meaning of church, the essence of Christianity (Again, I didn’t say church was perfect!). When I was 15, at a weekend Christian retreat, I sat on a rock under a starry sky and spoke to God the only three words I fully understood at the moment: “I need you.”

Now there was something in a Sunday that made the body not feel so alone. There were daddies with laughing little girls and the luscious smell of someone frying chicken (well, that was on Wednesday nights at a later church). But that was still not what Kristofferson, what Cash were really missing.

The “something lost somewhere along the way” was The Story, the gospel, preached, lived, and taught. Church is a place where those who smoked their minds the night before—and those who didn’t—come to consume the message we crave, the message of forgiveness in Jesus Christ, the message of grace, the message of our one true hope.

Kristofferson’s words ring true:

And there’s nothing short a’ dying
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.

Yes, there is sorrow and loneliness and pain to be found in the church. But here, in the hospital for sinners that offers hospitality to strangers, the light overcomes the darkness. It is a place where the song line of redemption meets the sound of sleeping city sidewalks. It is the place where we sing and tell the only story that truly satisfies the loneliness and longings of Sunday morning coming down.

Photo by sergio souza on Unsplash

Sunday Morning Coming Down

by Kris Kristofferson

Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I’d smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I’d been picking.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playing with a can that he was kicking.
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken.
And Lord, it took me back to something that I’d lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I’m wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothing short a’ dying
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.

In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl that he was swinging.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singing.
Then I headed down the street,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing,
And it echoed through the canyon
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I’m wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothing short a’ dying
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.

Exercise: Write your own church story:

  • Why not write or tell this story: What’s your story with church? Consider these questions to get started:
    Did you go as a child and stop going along the way?
  • Have you experienced redemption at church?
  • Do you have a broken church story?
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Mardi Gras, Lent, and Fasting: What You Need to Know

To fast or not to fast?

Your news feed today may reveal scenes of wild celebrations in New Orleans and other cities on the Gulf Coast. Maybe you wonder, as I once did, what these rowdy scenes have to do with a holiday in the Catholic church.

Mardi Gras originated in the early centuries AD, when pagan Romans celebrated a fertility god with debauchery and drunkenness. Early Christians decided to transform the raucous celebration and make it a day for feasting to mark the end of “ordinary time” after Christmas and the beginning of Lent, the season of fasting and repentance before the celebration of Christ’s resurrection. The French first coined the term “Mardi Gras” (Fat Tuesday) as they ate up all of the eggs and milk they would be fasting from during Lent.

Lent, short for Lenten, comes to us from the Old English word for “Spring”: lenten, which meant “lengthen.” As the daylight lengthens, life springs into view, buds blooming and bright stalks shoving their way through the earth.

Lent now refers to a season in the church calendar in which many Christians prepare for Easter by reflecting deeply on the love and sacrifice of Jesus our Savior. Some people choose to fast, giving up something they enjoy, or taking up a sacrificial act. Fasting is not believed to make people right with God; rather, it reminds us that we desperately need a righteous Savior and makes us grateful for God’s “plentiful redemption” (Psalm 130).

As Lent begins tomorrow, it’s a good time to consider the question: to fast or not to fast?

3 misguided reasons for fasting:

When our children were in elementary school and junior high, they attended a school which encouraged giving up something for Lent. I insisted (to a fault, I confess), that they not fast for the wrong reasons.

  1. Because “everyone” is doing it. Teenagers aren’t the only ones who do religious things because of peer pressure. If we choose to fast only because it’s the thing to do, we may be worshipping people rather than God.
  2. To show off our spirituality.This reason is closely connected to the first. Jesus warned his followers against fasting to show off.
  3. To test our willpower. While discipline for the purpose of glorifying God is good, we need to beware of fasting only to glorify our own strong willpower.  

Jesus’ warning to his followers aptly sums up these three misguided reasons for fasting:

When you practice some appetite-denying discipline to better concentrate on God, don’t make a production out of it. It might turn you into a small-time celebrity, but it won’t make you a saint.” Matthew 6:16.

Self-discipline can be dangerously self-focused. The purpose of fasting is not to puff ourselves up. Click To Tweet

4 good reasons for fasting:

There are clear biblical models for fasting, most notably, Christ’s practice while facing temptation in the wilderness. Consider these four ways God may work in us through this spiritual grace.

  1. To identify our cravings: Fasting can reveal the food, drink, activities, etc. that we turn to for fulfillment of our longings and desires.
  2. To practice waiting on the Lord: When we’re craving something we love, we can remember that it is good to wait on the Lord’s goodness: “I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” This verse leads to the next powerful reason for fasting:
  3. To discover how plentiful redemption is: When we let go of things we depend on, we begin to see how paltry they are in contrast to the generosity of God’s love for us in Christ.
  4. To highlight Christ’s righteousness: If we try a fast for forty days, we will likely fail with regularity. (Even if you never break your fast, take note of how irritable you may become while keeping it!) We become even more grateful that our salvation is not based on our perfect keeping of any law but on Christ’s.

The problem with the food, drink and activities that we fill our lives with is that, like the well-water the Samaritan woman seeks, it will never satisfy. The fact is, unless we feed off Christ’s righteousness, we will starve. Though fasting has historically been way down on my list of spiritual practices, when I’ve tried it, God has filled me to overflowing with his grace.

Fasting from emotional fillers will draw us to feast on the grace which truly satisfies. Click To Tweet

A Prayer about Fasting or Not Fasting

Lord, whether we choose to keep a fast in the next forty days or not, we confess that we often try to fill our stomachs, our hearts, and our minds with things that do not satisfy. We bow before you, acknowledging our desperate need for the living water you have promised to give in our Savior Jesus Christ. Let us mourn our sin during this season; let us rejoice in your salvation. In Jesus’ name we ask, Amen.

What about you? What experiences do you have with fasting? What other good or bad reasons for fasting would you suggest?

Photo by Thomas Kinto on Unsplash

How Spiritual Disciplines Can Become Spiritual Graces

How Spiritual Disciplines Can Become Spiritual Graces

Re-thinking spiritual disciplines

As many students and teachers get back to school, it’s a prime time to return to or develop good routines. This month at Living Story, I’ll share some encouragement and tools for spiritual disciplines, looking at the means God uses to grow us as Christians. Be sure to subscribe if you want to receive all of the posts in your inbox.

I confess, as a young Christian back in the 70’s, I got the wrong impression about what we often called our “spiritual life.” For example, I thought things like having good quiet times (whatever that meant) or memorizing Bible verses would make me a better Christian and more acceptable to God. Thank goodness for the great gospel news that God loves us because he loves us, not because we are “spiritual giants,” which I definitely was not.

The good news/bad news of spiritual disciplines

The good news is that I learned that my so-called spiritual labors did not save me. Thankfully, that work was done by Jesus on the Cross.

The bad news is that somehow I, along with many other people got the idea that being saved by grace alone meant we didn’t need to be diligent about reading our Bibles.

I used to think being saved by grace alone meant it didn’t matter if I didn’t read my Bible very often. #spiritualgrowth Click To Tweet

Why we need spiritual disciplines:

At the office, the school, the playing field, and of course, on the internet, our culture bombards us with stories about who we are and what we should be. These stories tell us how to spend our money and our time. They often make us feel that we don’t measure up. Then, after we’re beaten down, they teach us how to regain our lost self-esteem.

In the midst of these mixed messages, we desperately need to know the one True Story Scripture tells. This Story reminds us:

  • A glorious God created us in his image, so we have incalculable value.
  • This same glorious God loves his people and pursued us to make us his own.
  • Christ came and died to set us free from our sins. (Gal. 5:1).
We desperately need to know the Story of Grace Scripture tells. #Biblestudy #grace Click To Tweet

Knowing God’s story will help us when neighbors think we’re odd for going to church on Sunday mornings, or when co-workers think we prioritize our family over our work (we do!). We will remember that we do live differently because we are citizens of heaven, not citizens of this earth (Phil. 3:20).

Spiritual disciplines: our means of living God’s story of grace

Spiritual disciplines, like Bible reading and memorization, prayer, and attending church, among others, matter deeply to our calling to worship and enjoy God forever! Next week we will continue this series by looking at practical suggestions for developing and refining practices for immersing ourselves in The Story — the Bible!

A PRAYER ABOUT SPIRITUAL DISCIPLINES

Holy God, forgive us for the ways we have misunderstood and abused your grace, mercy, and love. Help us to enjoy the good gifts you have given us to grow more and more like Jesus. We want to be like him; please help us to root ourselves in good soil. In Jesus’ precious name, Amen

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Why We Resist Rest:Spiritual Graces 6

Today, as I conclude this short series on spiritual graces, I invite you to sit with me and hear God’s invitation to delight: rest.

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Rest for some is playing with God in the sand.

Rest for some is playing with God in the sand.

It sounds so kind, so gentle, so — well, restful.

Come to me…

all who labor

and are heavy-laden…

[are you identifying with this yet?]

and I will give you rest.

  • It is a lullaby sung over a child in warm footie pajamas.
  • It is a friend waving to us from across the street, inviting us to come have coffee.
  • It is a gold-embossed invitation from the prince to the coronation ball.

Jesus, the lover of our souls, beckons us, and what I’m wondering is why, with an invitation like this — we resist rest.

Rest, menuach, according to the Hebrew, expresses more than just an absence of activity. Its purpose is to celebrate life and joy, to languish in the peace God lavishes, to imagine the days to come when there will be no more tears.

For Christians, it is a rich feast to remember that Christ has loved us and offered the perfect sacrifice that allows us to cease striving and know that all is well. It is a taste of the feast to come, when we will gather around a table in peace with those we’ve loved and hated in life, finally reconciled, finally restored.

So why don’t we rest? So many reasons, but today let’s just consider one:

Rosie-dog dares to risk rest -- with frequency:-)!

Rosie-dog dares to risk rest — with frequency:-)!

It’s too risky.

  • What if we lie down but can’t go to sleep?
  • What if we dress up for the ball and the Prince ignores us?
  • What if Jesus was waving to someone else?

He couldn’t have meant me. He couldn’t really mean I can stop laboring.

  • I know I need to have better quiet times for God to want to spend time with me.
  • If Jesus really knew who I am, he’d never ask me to the ball.
  • And if I go for coffee, it will be tense because I’m so disappointed in God right now.

Isn’t it better to just keep moving, stirring the noise, in case there is no song to be heard in the silence of rest?

20121203-075130.jpgIt’s risky. Really, who has that kind of gumption?

Not me.

But there’s some good news here. You knew there had to be, right?

Here’s a little interesting tidbit. The word in the Greek literally means to “cause to rest.” Jesus isn’t just offering us rest. He’s making us rest. Because he knows our hearts. He knows we struggle with sin, and fear, and shame, and pride. He knows we don’t think we deserve a break unless we’ve earned it. And he knows we’ll never earn it. That’s why he died. For our sin. So we could rest — from the guilt, the sin, the shame.

Stop. Do you hear him? He’s singing to you.

Come to me. All you who labor. [Do you labor?]

All who are heavy-laden [What burdens, doubts, fears, shame are you carrying?].

I have made it possible for you to rest.

I will bring you to the ball because you can’t bring yourself.

 Now for the dare:

Step away from the computer. Go somewhere or stay right where you are. Do you hear the singing? Do you see the couple dancing? Will you go sit with Jesus? It’s terrifying, but it’s true. God delights in you, and Jesus is causing you to rest in that.

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