Newstart

Uninvited, my guest was waiting for me when I finally opened my eyes at 7 am. My wife and I celebrated the arrival of the New Year with some friends, so I knew I would sleep a little late. And I knew it was possible for my usual New Year’s Day guest to arrive, but I had pushed the very thought out of my mind, saying, to myself, “Not this year.”

I shuffled into the kitchen for my morning ritual of grinding beans and starting the addictive I.V.-drip of coffee. From the bay window came sufficient light, filtered by the pine trees, to keep me from having to flip on the recessed spots overhead. Then I glanced around, half-smiled to myself, and thought, “Well, you showed up anyway.” Smugly, but lightly dancing on the morning rays was the little sprite Newstart, which before I could blink, leapt and raced along my optic nerve, slipping defiantly into my frontal lobe.

Logically, there’s no reason a change of calendars should elicit resolves to improve or initiate changes. The package of responsibilities, habits, and necessary tasks you set down on December 31 is the exact same load waiting to be shouldered the next morning. And yet, barefooted and unshaven in the kitchen, I actually felt something different. I felt a Newstart within me, and before I could clobber my thoughts with cynicism, I was entertaining a list of goals for the new year. The most disgusting aspect of it all was my reluctant admission that the feeling, full of possibility and hope, had “rightness” written all over it.

With the bitter warmth of the coffee finally pushing me into alertness, I began looking for some compromise. I was determined not to be lured by the tradition list of resolutions, those tramps that smile seductively promising to be your savior right before they morph into spectral stalkers. But something was needed. Newstart had dug in, pinging my synapses with that fresh feeling I could not, and honestly would not, shake off.

So I have resolved that my resolution this year will be to keep Newstart with me. I’m not sure how I will accomplish this, but I plan to greet Newstart in my daily morning rituals. This morning Newstart was my uninvited gift, but I know most mornings, perhaps even tomorrow’s, I’ll have to hunt for her. I have a sense of the places to look, readings and reflections, prayers and perspectives, yoga and yogurt, to name a few. The important thing I suppose, is to own the search. And with practice, maybe I can prompt others to find her as well.

Halloween No More

I am so disappointed with Halloween. I know it is second only to Christmas for commerce, and I'm not against helping the economy. Maybe I should, but I don't oppose Halloween on religious grounds, nor because of the gruesomeness of the movies, costumes, and decorations. It's seeing the kids totally miss the meaning of Trick or Treating that bothers me.

Let me tell you what happens in my neighborhood. I live in a subdivision a couple of miles out of town. Carloads, truckloads, and trailerloads of kids (most of whom were teens) are unloaded at the entrance of the subdivision to walk door to door with their pillow-case sized bags. At the door, sometimes you get the traditional "trick or treat" but often the child just stands there with the bag open. Again, sometimes a "thank you," but often they just turn and run on to the next home. No need to guess who it was, you wouldn't know them anyway. I was glad when the last of the candy was given away, and the front door light went out.

The whole drama of the exchange is gone. The meta-narrative of good and evil, power and surprise is missing, leaving the event crass and meaningless. Trick or treating is that mysterious time when children, with costumes, become something more than who they really are, curious strangers who have the ominous power to extract a ransom from you.

I can idealize a time when Trick or Treating was an enjoyable evening for a community. You didn't go to the store and buy bags of individually wrapped refined sugar, you made treats to give out. The neighborhood kids came around, often in family groups and you greeted people you knew, chuckled at their homemade costumes, and guessed who it was. The transparent threat of "treats or some trickery" was thwarted by sending them on with something good to eat.

Alas! My idealized version is just that, idealized. For me, however, I've decided that next year I'll just stick with the church carnivals with their "trunk or treats," and simply leave a twenty pound bag of candy on the front porch steps at home.

Memorial Day Thoughts

Making small talk at a wedding reception recently a friend and I realized we have in common an odd bit of history. We are about the same age and we both know we are probably here because President Truman decided to avert the invasion of Japan by dropping the atomic bomb. How can this be?

My father was a signalman in the Navy. At the end of the European theater of war, he was sent with other selected signalmen to train for the invasion. They were to be dropped offshore, were to get on land the best they could, dig in, and help direct the invasion from their vantage point. The Navy expected a survival rate of 1 out of 10.

My friend’s father was an Army sergeant. After time in Europe, he was assigned to a special force being made up for first wave of the invasion. I don’t know what survival rate was expected for this, but pretty sure it was slim.

Anyway, they were in training at bases in California when the news came of the atomic bombing of first Hiroshima and then three days later, Nagasaki. Six days after the second bombing, Japan surrendered.

This post isn’t made to offer rational for the use of nuclear weapons. I cannot imagine the horror they created and pray the world will never see them used again. But here on Memorial Day as I think of so many who have died in service to our country, I do give thanks that two young soldiers got the chance to live, and to become dads. And it reminds me that we who live peaceable lives owe a debt of gratitude.

Easter Traditions

After a wonderful Taize Good Friday service with the area churches last night, we went home to a Taylor tradition, dying eggs. For 24 years we have dyed or painted emptied eggs and kept a few each year. They aren't amazing eggs, but their ours, and reflect the changes of the years. Even our dog, Cooper, got into the act, adding his special touch to one egg. Now the Big Basket holds over 150 eggs, and this year another dozen is added. I suggested this might be the last year, but of course, was voted down.

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I Bind Myself to Thee Today

I bind unto myself today
The strong name of the Trinity
By invocation of the same
The Three in One and One in Three

- St. Patrick's Breastplate

And so, what is the day like, bound to God, as prisoners being transported are bound to one another? What is it like to maneuver through your appointments, your conversations and your decisions feeling another so close at hand? And what is it like to be so closely identified with the one to whom you're bound so that while you know you are still yourself, you also know you are not just yourself anymore? It is not so strange, the answer, for is it not like living the call of discipleship?

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger
- St. Patrick's Hymn

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY

Christmas Blessings

How blessed we are to enjoy a family Christmas. At the Christmas Eve service at Trinity I had Cynthia, my wife preach. The danger is that my folks will be disappointed when I step back into the pulpit. The good is that I enjoyed seeing her preach and hearing her sermon in Trinity's sanctuary.

Then, after Holy Communion, and the candlelight singing of Silent Night, we jumped in the car and rushed to Isle of Palms to join the late service at First Methodist there, catching our eldest daughter by surprise. There we again enjoyed a beautiful service, and especially enjoyed hearing Lauren sing a duet of What Child is This. Kelsey commented in the service that this was the first time in months (since Annual Conference probably) that she had been able to sit with both her parents during a worship service!

Then, after Christmas morning at home, it was off to my mother-in-law's home for a family gathering. Christmas simply calls for family time. That's why it's so difficult when families are broken, or members are missing. Singles who learn to live well in daily life sometimes have to struggle with loneliness at Christmas, simply because of the unspoken call to be with family.

Knowing the true message of Christmas, who should be surprised at this? Christmas is family time for God and all God's creation. God sends his Son to become one with us. God says, through Christ I will make a way for you, a way for you to be with me. And thus we are called "children of God, heirs and joint-heirs with Christ."

With the packing of the car, and the travel, and the craziness of extended family time together, my senses get overloaded. But somehow in the chaos, the promise of God's blessing shines through:

Sing to God, sing praises to his name; lift up a song to him who rides upon the clouds -- his name is the LORD-- be exultant before him. Father of orphans and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation. God gives the desolate a home to live in. Psalm 68

Jesus answered, "Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. John 14

A home in the midst of all the chaos and confusion, sin and sorrow, loneliness and longing of this world. And how blessed I am to partake of it with family again this year. Praise God from whom all blessings flow!

Christmas Candlelight at St. Mattel's

The little town of Timmonsville enjoyed a night of the stars coming out for the annual Christmas Candlelight service at St. Mattel's. The white beam and Plexiglas chapel was decked with greenery and a fully lit, beautiful, 8 inch high ceramic fir.

Ken looked resplendent in his all white, silk Brook's Brothers preaching suit, smartly matched with white Crockette and Jones loafers. Since his Bible was permanently opened in the center, he read from Habakkah 2. At first the reading about keeping a watchpost did not seem too "Christmasy," but the congregation perked up when he got to verse 15 and mentioned drunkeness and nakedness.

With everyone still shocked over the scandal of Midge's recall for lead- enhanced paint, there was an effort this year to stay focused on the real reason for the season. However, as everyone knows, whenever the Barbies gather, the occasion is ultimately about the clothes, with quick glances to see who's had the latest plastic surgery.

The service concluded with the light of cell phones held high - casting an ethereral glow over each frozen smile, for the singing of that Christmas favorite, Silent Night, Halfprice Sale Tonight."

Merry Christmas!

Living Christmas Story

Trinity just had its weekend of presenting The Living Christmas Story and this was the best one I've participated in. The scenes of the Christmas story are set up, as well as a street of Bethlehem, and visitors drive through while listening to a CD we give them with the story told through scripture readings. The weather was wonderful (too warm for a lot of folks for December) which meant the small kids stayed out and filled the scenes. We had a lot of people participating and the line of cars was constant up until we shut it down Sunday night. For part of the time I was a greeter, taking the census and handing out the CD's. That was fun, talking with the people in the cars and seeing the anticipation on the faces of many of the children.

With our production of the Messiah, church services, and everything else, it was a very busy weekend, but a good one.

Magnificat

My soul magnifies the Lord,

And my spirit has rejoiced in God my savior.

For he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden

for behold, all generations shall call me blessed.

For he who is mighty has done great things to me;

and holy is his name.

And his mercy is on them who fear him

from generation to generation.

Thank you Sumter High School Choir and director, Eric Wilkinson, for a delightful experience of Bach's Magnificat. You allowed me to hear with fresh ears the hope of salvation in the words of Mary.

Christmas Music

Christmas music has already filled the air at the Taylor home. I know that's insignificant, but I've had my own little protest against the expansion of the Christmas season. I wouldn't play Christmas music (and we didn't decorate) until at least December 1st. I think I most closely associate Christmas not with decorations or shopping or good food or parties or presents or cards or..., but with the music of Christmas.

However, yesterday I was getting out the Christmas CDs and suddenly I was holding Selections from Handel's Messiah. It was a weak moment and I couldn't resist. Then while some tenor was belting out "Comfort ye" I went ahead and loaded the CD changer with other Christmas music. Such decadence!

So, what's your favorite Christmas music? I enjoy listening to the new songs Cynthia brings in, but I'm not at all "out there" with my preferences. I could listen to the Messiah over and over (to the chagrin of anyone else in the house or office). I also like the Celtic Christmas stuff (Enya, Lorenna McKennit, Sara McLachlin), but still, new variations on old carols works just fine for me.

Regardless of what style you prefer, however, once the music starts playing, Christmas is here. It has a power to create the reality of the Story, wherever you are. I have no doubt it was the angels' singing that stirred the shepherds to get up and go and see. And come to think of it, I wonder if our joyful singing of the good news might cause others to come and see. If that's the case, forget my prohibition till December 1, bring the music on!

Empty and Full

Well, there's a lot of fullness with Thanksgiving, if you are blessed so wonderfully as we were. In spite of a nearby water main breaking and leaving us with murky, unusable water during the morning, and in spite of losing the sweet potato cassarole (My fault! I "helped" by making room on the kitchen counter by setting the dish on top of the washing machine, and the vibrations of the spin cycle slid it right off on the floor, and everywhere.), we had more than enough of excellent food to fill us up, twice. We had a great time together.

Plus, I was reminded that you have to be emptied before you can be filled - and it wasn't the full plate of food that reminded me. Sometime after dinner Cynthia and I sat down to talk about the Christmas gifts we would be getting for others this year. She wanted to know what to watch for before heading out into the hunt on Black Friday. I was preoccupied with a program I was watching. I shared a couple of ideas, and then she did. But honestly, I didn't hear a word she said. My mind was full and her words bounced off my eardrums.

I didn't tell her (30 years of marriage have taught me something) right away. But later, after some mind/attention emptying, I chanced to ask her to repeat her suggestions, and got away with it! Great Thanksgiving.

Henry Nouwen once compared being pre-occupied to inviting a guest to take a seat in a room where all the seats are filled. There has to be some emptying first. I wonder if God often feels like such a guest when in my prayers I invite him into my life. God's welcome, but I've made no room for him. No wonder it feels that God is distant when our lives are so "full."

"A time to empty and a time to fill" is not the same as "a time to fill and fill some more." How in the world to we confuse the two? So full of stuff, of ourselves, and of our own ideas, we leave no place open where God can do new things. And then we wonder what's wrong when God allows circumstances to begin "emptying" our lives. And think of this: How many times do we go to church wanting God to fill us, when what we really need is for God to empty us? Do we expect times of emptying as well as times of filling?

I guess that was the reason the season of Advent began - a time of emptying like Lent, so we could receive the gift of Christ. Good thing it comes after a full Thanksgiving, or else I wouldn't have room for it.

Thanksgiving Rituals

For the first time in 30 years of marriage, we will have Thanksgiving in our own home. All the other years we have traveled to be with family gatherings. This year, however, I’ve just had minor surgery and while I could travel, my girls seized the opportunity to insist they would cook our Thanksgiving meal. Under Cynthia’s guidance in the kitchen, I’m confident the meal will be excellent.

But the change of ritual makes me wonder what it is about the Thanksgiving holiday that so tugs at our hearts. I don’t believe it is the desire to be “thankful” for a day. People either live lives of gratitude or they don’t, and a holiday isn’t going to change that. No, the power of Thanksgiving has to do with our common longings.

Our individual celebrations may have little to do with the idealized scene of sitting down at a bountiful table to share a meal with family and friends, but we still want it to be true, if only partially so. We want there to be a place we can come home to, a place where we are welcomed without question. We want there to be a seat set aside for us, where we are expected to be present. And we want the assurance of plenty for all, a fullness of food, joy and fellowship.

These longings are good, God-given, I believe. For they point us to the one place they can truly be fulfilled, the table of the Lord. The image of the messianic banquet (Luke 14) stands silently behind our idealized Thanksgiving tables, and the One who has prepared all things for us desires us to know the fullness of life only He can provide.

Thanksgiving will be a busy time for many people – filled with travel, hunting, cooking, parades, shopping, conversation, work, and who knows what else, as we try to fill our hearts. It is right to stop and give thanks for the blessings we enjoy. But I wosnder if our longings and gratitude can lead us to the presence of Christ, the all-sufficient One.