I appreciated the feedback on “Words to Enter Church By” (the additional idea of Ephesians 4:32 being another good one to consider). On any Sunday, after the church entry, most people make their way to the sanctuary, where there are again opportunities for impressions and messages that are sent by virtue of what is done with and in that space. As we have been in the process of designing some “chancel furniture,” one of the questions that people often ask is, “what about the altar?”

Anita and I generally and consistently refer to this piece of furniture as “the table.” Our language choice has been motivated by the notion that the ancient purpose of an “altar” was for “sacrifice.” Jesus was pretty clear in his teachings: “Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice.’” With the completion of his ministry, any need for atoning sacrifice was taken care of, and the cross is the symbol of that reality. Thus, I prefer “table” as the label for that piece of furniture, remembering the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper and our gathering around it as a community for that ritual, as being more in keeping with what Jesus had in mind for our worship.

But this language shift on this piece of furniture seems slow in coming. Am I too narrow in my understanding of what an altar symbolizes? Is the language too deeply entrenched to change? Are we unrealistic to be lone voices trying to shift this paradigm of 2,000 years of church practice?

I don’t often remember dreams. When I do, they are often curiosities. But once in a while they seem insightful. Stalking Wolf said that God uses dreams only out of desparation – when we’re not paying attention otherwise. That may be the case. But I had a dream last week that had comforting meaning.

I was on a back packing trip with a group of youth in this dream. We were in country that was arid foothills. As our group stopped to rest, a small migrating bird fluttered overhead, clearly exhausted. I held out my hand and it lit on it. I could feel its talons grip my finger. It seemed barely able to hold its head up. Its markings made me think of a flicker. I poured water into the palm of my hand and it drank deeply. Slowly it seemed to perk up and revive. It drank again and again. At last, it flew away.

The dream seemed a gift for me – from God? from my inner spirit? I don’t know. But I still feel the birds talons and still am warmed by its revival.

I heard one of my favorite theologian/authors on the radio today — Barbara Brown Taylor.  She’s out with a new book, An Altar in the World, inviting us into the gift of sabbath.  But chapter by chapter she gives us lots of new ways to think about it.  I haven’t read the book yet, but she is always worth the read.  Check it out.   Anita

When I was in my “text study” yesterday, a colleague repeated a familiar phrase: “We’re all ‘buggers,’ but God loves us anyway. He then went on to say that sometimes it’s hard for us to accept that about people whose messing up has affected us, but that we’re called on to do the same as God does. It popped into my head to say, “Is that the same as what we’re doing with this economic mess of our country? Greedy bankers, loan officers and investement firms have messed up and the people adversely affected – we who are basically honest citizens – are being called on to bail them out? forgive their debts as we have been forgiven ours?”  I think it is – and I’m not sure it feels very good to be doing it. Do we have a choice if we want to save our own skins?

Andrew

I kept a friend company at Barnes & Noble the other day. While he perused the aisles, I sat with a cup of green tea reading ‘The Shack.’ Then I went back the next day for a cup of coffee to finish the book without buying it. I’d feel a little guilty about that, except that I give them a regular stream of business, and the book has already sold millions, so the author and publisher are not dependent on chintzy people like me. I read it because of word of mouth (mixed reviews). I have to say that I don’t care for the style of imaginary conversations with God (or with anything else, for that matter). And that’s more than interesting for me, since in my first draft of ‘Crossing Boundary Waters,’ I was using that style here and there. But it didn’t take long to feel that it was too contrived and not authentic to my experience. So I dropped it – and I think it was the best editing decision I made. I don’t think it’s wrong to imagine conversations with God – I often encourage people in meditation to do just that. But where that happens for anyone, it strikes me as both highly personal and often frought with our own projections that don’t work for others. I think the most frequent way I experience the spirit’s voice is in sermon prep … for most of my years of preaching it seems that when I remember to ask God’s help, ideas seem to flow better. I don’t presume to think the ideas are necessarily God’s, preferring rather to think that God helps loosen up my own gray matter and work with what’s already there. After all, there’s not much with anyone that’s an original thought, just different packaging.
One good thing about The Shack – towards the end he prints a favorite quote of mine by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (my oldest son keeps after me to read more of her stuff):
‘Earth’s crammed with heaven / And every common bush afire with God / But only he who sees takes off his shoes; / The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.’

Andrew

Our church is rennovating its entrance. I was asked to suggest a Bible verse or two to put on a wall opposite the entry. These are the two I suggested: “Do justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)  and  “Fear not for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name, you are mine.” (Isaiah 43:1) What do you think?
Andrew