Church Picnic

Today was a church picnic. That means GL spent most of the day every day for the past week repeatedly asking if we were going to the church picnic. The answer was yes. Every. Single. Time. But he can't take yes for an answer. All through the service this morning, he kept asking if we were staying for the picnic. As soon as the service was over, he began asking if he could call Grandma about a visit as soon as we got home from the picnic. He never cares what's happening right now, he only cares about what's happening after that. Sometimes, when he's asking a repetitive question, I ask him what I said last time. He can repeat it back to me, but that doesn't keep him from asking again. And again. And again. And Again. And AGAIN. AND AGAIN!

Although we provide both verbal and nonverbal cues (which he usually misses) and explain to him repeatedly and in great detail (which he repeats back and claims to understand) how irritating his repetitive questions are, any time we show the slightest exasperation, it takes him entirely by surprise. Even though he can answer these questions himself every time when asked, to him, it's as if each time he asks is the first time, and our exasperation is coming out of nowhere. To him, we are the ones being unreasonable.

We enjoyed chatting with friends (between repetitive questions), the food was wonderful, I ate too much, and then the boys and I joined a game of Ultimate Frisbee. That is, BB and I played. GL followed people around the field for a bit, and then wandered off. Mama Bear brought a craft project to work on, and she sat and chatted and crafted with other crafty ladies.

BB would have stayed all day (and probably all night, too) if he could have. I'd had enough food and games, and we'd all had more than enough of GL's asking if he could call Grandma when we got home, so after three hours, we loaded up the car and left. GL and BB immediately started fighting. I stopped the car, and MB switched seats with BB. GL started hitting MB, so I stopped again, and we gave him his medicine. He continued nagging and whining all the way home. And that's what a successful outing looks like with the Bear family.

Nasty Dan

Someone finally posted the video of our talent show entry. I'm Johnny Cash, and GL is Oscar the Grouch.

Palm Sunday: It's only fun until someone loses an eye!

O.K., no one lost an eye at my church this morning, but I have been poked in the eye when some short people related to me got over-enthusiastic with their palm fronds. And I'm sure it happened again today to someone, somewhere. People say Christmas is for children, but it's got nothing on Palm Sunday for pint-size congregant participation. With fronds like these, who needs enemies? 

Palm Sunday is a strange holiday. Even staid congregations that don't usually leave their pews for any other reason have processions. People who would normally never raise their hands in church are waving tree branches. And think about it: palms--which would never survive the winters here--before the first hint of buds on local trees. 

But the strangest part is this: we praise Jesus by reenacting a scene in which we play the crowd that turned on Him and demanded his crucifixion. I still remember telling my mother about the morning's Sunday school lesson on our way home from church, Palm Sunday, 1975. How Jesus rode into Jerusalem, and the people recognized Him as the Messiah, and cheered as he went by, saying, "Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!" We relished the story together, but then she pointed out, "Those were the same people shouting, 'Crucify Him!' a week later." 

Oh. The teacher hadn't mentioned that. It worried me a bit that people could be so fickle, so treacherous. But I thought I could never do that. Over the years, I noticed that the two stories were kept separate in most of the churches I attended. The connection might be mentioned in passing, but the stories were told on separate occasions. I still waved my palm branches, but I felt vaguely guilty doing so. Should we imitate these people who didn't stay true to Him?

Fast forward to my first Palm Sunday at an Episcopal church. We had the procession, we waved our palm branches, I got poked in the eye, all in the usual way. But when we got to the Gospel reading, instead of the rector reading the entire passage, there were parts for him and parts for the people. When I heard my own voice crying out with the whole congregation, "Crucify Him! Crucify Him!" an old lesson hit home in a powerful way. My heart is fickle, even treacherous. The choices I have made (and continue to make) sent Him to Calvary. It is only when I recognize my voice in the crowd saying, "Crucify Him!" that I am truly able to cry out, "Hosanna," literally, "Save us!" I was reluctant to identify with the hypocritical crowd, fearing it would make me a hypocrite. What I'd failed to see was that identifying with the crowd only revealed the hypocrisy that was already there. Which of us has not, by our words or our silence, by our actions or our failure to act, failed and failed again to live up to the faith we profess?

The most persistent objection of unbelievers is that "there are hypocrites in the church." Now we all know that there are those in every church who are not yet truly converted, those who pretend to be holy to impress their friends, families, or neighbors. If we forget, there are Christ's own words to remind us: "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven." But the reason this accusation stings is that no one is so aware of his own sin as a true believer. We are commanded to confront and eradicate it, even at the cost of a hand or an eye. You can fool your neighbors, you can fool your friends, you can fool your pastor, and, most frightening, you can even fool yourself, but you can't fool God. What happened when Ananias and Sapphira lied to the Holy Spirit and were struck dead? Great fear came upon the whole church, and more than ever believers were added to the Lord.

Outsiders who complain of the hypocrites in the church seem to imply that they are above that sort of thing, perhaps not so holy as the holiest believers, but wholly without pretense. Hogwash! Why is the church so full of hypocrites? Because the world is so full of hypocrites. Every problem in the church is a direct result of the fact that we keep letting those damned sinners in, but the reason the church exists is to bring in damned sinners! Some of them will continue to deceive themselves, and those who will become holy will become holy over time. We can't be sure who's who. If we try to uproot the weeds, we will uproot some of the wheat with them. We are commanded to let both grow together until the harvest. 

So I admit it, I'm a hypocrite. But if I stayed away from church, I would still be a hypocrite. The church has my only hope of a cure. Seeing hypocrites in the church and saying the church causes hypocrisy is like seeing cancer patients in the hospital and saying the hospital causes cancer. At times, I'm tempted to rap with Steve Taylor:

Can't understand those Christians, so
You type us all in stereo:
"They're hypocrites! They're such a bore!"
Well, come on in! There's room for one more!

But when I look at my own heart, I have to say what Edmund said to Eustace after he'd been un-dragoned: "You were only an ass, but I was a traitor."

Anatomy of an ADHD/SPD Baptism

Anatomy of an ADHD/SPD Baptism Interesting post. Thoughts?

Coming Soon! and the Horrible Holidays

GL loves to go to the library and check out DVDs. He asks to go every day. Since it's only two blocks away, I usually take him. I don't trust him to cross the street by himself. I also don't trust him in the library by himself. Of course, he checks out his favorite movies over and over, but his favorite parts are the commercials and the bonus features. He'll frequently tell us about this or that movie that's "Coming too soon on video and DDD!"

The library was closed Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and Sunday. As jillsmo says, Yeah. Good Times. Meltdowns every day. Mama Bear had Christmas Eve off. In exchange, she had to work Christmas Day. I don't remember much about what we did during each day, but it revolved around trying to calm GL. You know how some Catholics / Lutherans / Baptists / whatever only attend church on Easter Sunday and Christmas Eve?  Since GL's diagnosis,   I've become sort of a reverse Catholic. Those are the two times I don't go. He doesn't handle crowds well, and I'm not too keen on them, myself. Brother Bear had asked if he could be in the Christmas program this year, so Mama Bear agreed to take him.

We went to church as a family Christmas Day. Although it's one of the holiest days of the church year, our church and many others don't hold services on Christmas Day. Some get around it by having midnight Mass, so it's technically Christmas Day by the time it's over. But ours has it's Christmas Eve service at 5:00 p.m. so everyone can get their kids to bed on time. So one day a year, we are Lutheran. Actually, I was confirmed Lutheran a few years back, when I had to work every Sunday and they were the only church in town that had a service at a time I could attend. The pastor still recognized me when we walked in the door, remembered my name, where we live, and what kind of car we drive. It's a small town.

Mama Bear went to work that afternoon, and the rest of the day was quiet. Well, as quiet as it ever gets around here. I had a project I wanted to work on in the basement, but every time I went downstairs, the boys would fight. I don't remember why I couldn't bring BB down with me, but the basement is where we keep everything that GL might hurt or that might hurt him. We keep the door locked, because we don't trust him in the basement.

We had planned to go to church Sunday, but MB had worked an overnight, and was too tired, and I didn't feel up to taking GL to church by myself. So the boys continued to fight, and MB tried to sleep. We had a family gathering Sunday afternoon because that was the compromise worked out with the various in-laws and out-laws. We gave GL his extra med and headed to my parents' house. When we arrived, he immediately began yelling at Nana that he wanted to watch PBS Kids on her computer. Her computer was down. He started banging on the windows, saying he was going to break them. She took him for a walk outside, and he calmed down a bit. Whenever he started getting worked up, someone would take him for a walk, and he'd calm down for a while. We managed to visit for about two hours, including dinner. By then, he was yelling, pounding on windows, and trying to hit people, and there was no calming him. He needed to go home, but he didn't want to leave. He wouldn't go out to the car, he wouldn't put on his shoes, and he wouldn't let me put them on. I thought my brother, the firefighter, would have to carry him out, but at the last minute, he decided to walk out to the car in his sock feet. He raged all the way home, and didn't calm down until bedtime. He's been getting up between two and six most mornings lately, and waking people up for company. He was up at three a.m. one morning last week. He turned on the lights and started yelling at his brother to get up and play with him. This morning, he slept until 9:20. I let him.

Today we went to the library for DVDs. GL followed his usual routine. As he walked in the door, he shouted, "Hey, librarian, do I have anything in? You check, and I'll be in the DVD section, looking for DVDs!" He dropped his DVDs on the counter, and ran back to the kids' DVDs. As we were checking out, I commented that we survived three days without the library. The librarian smiled. She knows we're doing the best that we can. But she couldn't resist adding, "I had three days without the library, and I liked it just fine!"

GL answered, loudly as always, "On Christmas, I yelled at my grandmother, and I had to go home."

I hate holidays. They bring out the worst in people, especially GL, because they disrupt his routine. We have worked very hard to make our celebrations low-key, but they are still often more than he can handle. It's fine if other people want to take the day off, but why do we have to?

Merry Christmas!

This morning GL was helping me pass out bulletins at church. Since this is the last Sunday before Christmas, there was a picture of the Virgin Mary and Infant Jesus on the cover. After handing out a few bulletins, GL held a stack of them over his head and began yelling, "Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Baby Jesus is born again!"

Good to Know

Goldilocks' meltdowns have been increasing in frequency, intensity, and duration over the last couple months. Once St. Nicholas Day was over, he found other things to yell about. Or nothing in particular, just yelling angry nonsense. We are working with his doctor, adjusting his meds, trying to find a combination that keeps his behavior under control. I know some people are anti-medication, but when we've done every available therapy, and tracked down and accommodated every sensory and social issue we can, and he's still screaming, hitting people, pounding on the walls, tearing down pictures, and attempting to break windows for hours at a stretch, all for no discernible reason, and this happens four to five days a week, we turn to medication. Without it, someone would have been locked up a long time ago.

We missed church yesterday because of bad weather. It turned out not to be quite as bad as we were expecting, but the National Weather Service was still advising people to travel only in an emergency. We decided that going to church was not an emergency, but if the weather got worse, and we were stuck there or on the way home, we would have an emergency. Today he was not yelling; He was just being annoying. Asking repetitive questions. Making unreasonable demands. No matter what you offered him, he upped the ante. I decided to take him and run a few errands. He gets the go bug, especially when we can't or won't take him anywhere for a day or two. Sometimes just going someplace helps. So I took him. We even stopped for 7Up and doughnuts, which made this an official "adventure" in his book.

Later, Mama Bear had some errands, including a doctor appointment for the Sinus Infection That Will Not Die, so I was home with GL. He suddenly decided that he was finished with all his library DVDs, and I was going to take him to the library to get some more RIGHT NOW! I explained that I had to do a few other things first, including checking to see which things needed to be returned to the library and waiting for Mama Bear to come back with the car. He was back every five minutes, nagging. I was gathering the library materials when MB arrived. I apprised her of the situation. As GL and I headed out the door, Mama Bear said, "You're a better man than I am, Papa Bear." Thanks, Mama Bear. That's good to know.

Church with the special needs child

Amanda Broadfoot recently linked an article she posted earlier this year in which she asked,

"If you attend some house of worship, I'd really love to know how it handles kids with special needs. If you don't know, could you do me a favor and ask someone? I have a couple of reasons for asking this favor: First of all, I'm curious about the various ways this is handled and looking for ideas. Secondly, I think that the more people ask this question, the more likely the issue is to be addressed."

I hadn't yet found her blog when she posted this, but I think it's worth discussing, and I promised to fill you in on how things were going with GL and his volunteers.

This is the first church that we've been in that expressed the sentiment, "We're all in this together. We need him as much as he needs us." rather than, "Hey, you! Straighten up your kid!" We keep coming back because our son is not only tolerated, but welcomed. Despite his challenges, they work with him so he can serve as an acolyte. When Children's Church wasn't working out for him, but he wasn't able to sit through the regular service, (He still isn't, most Sundays) several men in the church volunteered to take turns sitting with him during the service and taking him for a walk if he needed it, so we could have opportunities to worship. That's worked out remarkably well.

With two of us and three volunteers, everyone got a chance to worship, and we each took responsibility for GL about once a month. I tried to make a schedule for whose turn it was to sit with him, but it was difficult. Both of us and all three volunteers were already on the schedule as readers, ushers, Children's Church teachers, etc. I tried to work it out so no one had the job two Sundays in a row or when they were scheduled to serve in some other capacity, but it wasn't always possible, and there were always last-minute changes due to illness, travel, etc. Most weeks, we ended up checking the schedule a few minutes before service to see who, if anyone, was available. Sometimes he sits with us, and we agree in advance who will take him out if he needs it. Our church writes its serving schedule quarterly, so I think I will ask the scheduler if she can work this job into the weekly schedule.

We make sure GL gets his meds before church and provide him with a bag of snacks, including large quantities of Big Red. Chewing gum is calming for GL. So are strong flavors. He used to eat cumin straight from the jar. He sits toward the back. Yes, he's likely to be less of a distraction there, but it's also the easiest place for him to keep calm. The crowd is thinner, and most sounds are quieter and farther away. But what has made this work so well are the men themselves. I'll call them St. Luke, St. Stephen and St. Paul. Each has his own style.

St. Luke has three children of his own, all younger than GL and BB. One of his daughters has special needs, too. His son is two years old, and likes to climb on, under, over, and between the pews. All three children like to look at books, color, and have snacks during church. They have a very active pew, but usually keep it reasonably quiet. GL finds the children entertaining, especially when he gets bored with the service. He's not usually very affectionate, but he hugs St. Luke, and cuddles up next to him like a favorite uncle.

St. Stephen has two preteen sons and a teen daughter who usually sit with their friends. St. Stephen usually sits toward the front with his wife, (other family and friends usually sit with them) but on the weeks he sits with GL, they sit in the back, just the two of them. Other than occasionally teasing GL by asking if he can have all the snacks, he mostly focuses on the service, but walks around with GL if needed.

St. Paul, an electrician by trade, is quiet and unassuming.  He seems to be the best at entering GL's world, not talking down to him, but putting himself in GL's shoes. I later found out he had filled a similar role years earlier in another church for a young man with autism. The father had died, and the mother needed help, so he helped out wherever he could. GL sometimes models his quiet, calm demeanor. Other times, he just stretches out on the pew as if to take a nap.

The change of pace, style, and demeanor from week to week within the structure of the same time, place, and ritual seems to be working. He sits through more of the service more often and more quietly than he ever did before. If he leaves during the sermon, he insists on coming back in time for Communion. I know he finds the predictability reassuring. I believe he also recognizes that he is refreshed, restored, and strengthened by it in ways we don't fully understand.

So in turn, I ask you,

"If you attend some house of worship, I'd really love to know how it handles kids with special needs. If you don't know, could you do me a favor and ask someone? I have a couple of reasons for asking this favor: First of all, I'm curious about the various ways this is handled and looking for ideas. Secondly, I think that the more people ask this question, the more likely the issue is to be addressed."

Please pass this on to your friends, post it on your blog, Facebook, wherever, and report back the responses. I'd really like to hear the discussion. And read the Broadfoot family's continuing story, Can I use miles to pay for my spiritual journey?

Stupid Google, Stupid www.blogger.com

...lets me leave comments on other people's blogs, but won't let me comment on my own blog.

This goes under Which church would you choose?

Would we be more involved if we moved closer? Most families are so busy with every available lesson, sport, school, neighborhood, and regional activity, not to mention some parents commuting over an hour to work, that even those who live close find it hard to get together. We choose to opt out of these things, but so far, we're the only ones. And it's a small church. How many official church functions are offered besides Sunday services? About one a month. And with his sensory and social difficulties, some events just aren't possible for GL.

Which church would you choose?

Michelle Van Loon asked a thought-provoking question on her blog, theparablelife: 


Q: Would you drive 45+ minutes to attend an ideal church service each week or would you become a part of a church community with whom you differed on some points of doctrine and practice right in your own backyard? 


After reading the article, I posted a comment. I've expanded it slightly here:


Funny you should mention it, but we drive 45 minutes each way to attend an Anglican church. While I've acquired a new appreciation for sacramentalism and the combination of deeply moving truth and quiet sanity in the Book of Common Prayer, while we feel a deep spiritual kinship with certain people, while we believe its leaders are doing some good things that others leave undone, while we've heard some great sermons there, and while we've been richly blessed by some of the music,^* those aren't the most important things that drew us to this church, and they certainly aren't what keep us coming back week after week.

We keep coming back because our son is not only tolerated, but welcomed. Despite his challenges, they work with him so he can serve as an acolyte. When Children's Church wasn't working out for him, but he wasn't able to sit through the regular service, (He still isn't, most Sundays) several men in the church volunteered to take turns sitting with him during the service and taking him for a walk if he needed it, so we could have opportunities to worship. That's worked out remarkably well. I need to post about it soon.

So what's not to like? Well, as you mentioned, it is harder to form close connections with people you only see once a week. There are churches within walking distance of our house. Most of their members live in the neighborhood, and most of their children attend the local schools. Some of the adult members even work in  our small town, although many of them work in larger cities. Those are the people we see every day. But this is the first church that we've been in that expressed the sentiment, "We're all in this together. We need him as much as he needs us." rather than, "Hey, you! Straighten up your kid!"

Once you leave the immediate neighborhood, we've found it's not absolute distance but relative distance that determines how hard it is to be involved beyond Sunday morning. Whoever plans activities tends to base their plans on what works for people traveling the average distance to church. In some congregations, that's five minutes, in some, 20-30, in others, 45 or more. If you live the average distance or closer, you'll probably feel right in the thick of things, surrounded by friends. If you live farther away, it will take an extra effort, and one that no one notices, to be involved at all, and sometimes you will be left out. If you have a child with a disability, there will be some activities that are not worth the added effort, and some you just can't do. We have decided that in this case, the added effort for some activities is worth it. We've also made an effort to make personal contact outside church-sponsored events when we could.

^*(I'll never forget the offertory on the first Sunday of Advent one year: "The Man Comes Around." The hairs on my arm still stand up every time I think of it. On the other hand, I'm sorry, but 417 choruses of "I Could Sing of Your Love Forever" are at least 414 choruses too many.)

Singing in the key of autopilot

I finally found time to get my thoughts down in type regarding this post, which was part 1 of the post I commented on earlier today:

Learning a song and singing it in worship are two different activities. That's why choirs, worship teams, and all other church musicians have rehearsals, or should. What they sometimes forget is that if the congregation is to participate in worshipping God in song, they need a chance to learn the song.

The church I grew up in had hymnals filled with many well-loved hymns. Even when we outgrew that space and built a bigger one, we bought additional copies, and replaced some of the worn copies, with the same edition of the same hymnal. Not unusual for a church that loves traditional hymns, but in the pew rack, next to the hymnal, was a "chorus book". These books contained newer songs, and were replaced with updated editions every few years. So we sang both newer and older songs, added to the new songs regularly, and had the chance to learn them both. When we moved into the new space, we bought more hymnals, but not chorus books. We stopped using them. I'm not sure why. The effect, though, was that we stopped learning new songs. The only time we even heard new songs in church was when a soloist sang one (rare) or the choir did (rarer still).

We heard new songs on the Christian radio station, but we never sang them in church. Music gradually faded from the youth program, and some of the older people gradually adopted the attitude that we probably shouldn't even be listening to most of the new music, and we certainly shouldn't be singing it in church. So church music became a battle, with the young people versus the old people. While I loved the hymns, I thought we should be learning some of the new songs, too.

We moved away, and every church I attended or even visited seemed to choose between old songs and new. Those that preferred the old songs stopped learning new songs. Those that preferred new songs gradually stopped singing the old ones. Some churches bought new hymnals that included some more recent songs, but they changed the words to many of the old hymns, making it difficult even for those who knew them to sing them. Other churches put the lyrics (never mind learning the tune by reading the music) on overhead transparencies. That meant you couldn't practice the songs except during the service unless you rifled through the song leader's transparencies. It also made it possible to change their repertoire faster than ever. You could learn all the new songs, but they might have different ones in a few months. Nothing wrong with learning all those songs, but when do we get the chance to let them soak into our bones? You couldn't even leaf through the hymnal when the sermon got boring, because they eventually ditched the hymnals.

One church I attended had three services, which really meant they had three congregations. Not only did people from different services not get to know each other, they didn't sing any of the same songs. Early service had no music. Middle service sang only hymns. Late service was contemporary.

As song leaders and choirs were replaced by worship teams, and pianists and organists were replaced by louder and louder worship bands, the music became more performance-oriented. Sure, people sang along, but it felt more like a concert than congregational singing. Then the transparencies were replaced by computerized projectors feeding us one line at a time. No time to think about what we're singing, just read the next line and sing it quickly before it disappears. We still usually got one or two hymns a week, if the pastor insisted on it, but they not only changed the words, they often sang them to unfamiliar tunes. I heard one minister of music complain about singing that many because, "people don't like singing the old hymns because they don't know them," They don't know them because we never sing most of them. At one or two a week, you're lucky to hear a given hymn once a year, unless it's in that church's top five favorites.

That was another trend I noticed. We did get to know a handful of songs very well. The fight to be allowed to add new songs became an excuse to stop singing the old songs, and we've ended up singing fewer of the new songs, repeating them as if to fill time. As worship teams became more "spontaneous" and leadership more diffuse, some members found they could get an emotional high by repeating a favorite line, or even a chorus. No one wants to quench the Spirit, so when one repeats a line, everyone joins in. That might not be so bad if we had one song leader, but now some churches have six or more. When everyone gets at least one chance to add a chorus, the song has no definite end:
I could sing of Your love forever,
I could sing of Your love forever,
We've been singing this song forever...
ad nauseum. Singing twenty-six choruses is not twice as worshipful as singing thirteen.

I love an ancient hymn, and a rousing gospel number, and a meditative piece during the Eucharist, and a band that really knows how to rock. It's even better if they know when to rock. So by all means, give us the music of the whole body in all its variety, and if you want the congregation to participate, first give us the chance to learn the songs, and then give us the chance to sing them.

Emotion and Worship

What started out as a comment on this blog post grew into an article of its own, so I'm posting it here:

Michelle, I still have some thoughts percolating through my brain about your previous post. Meanwhile, this one inspired some observations:

Worship is an emotional response to God's great goodness. Praise is talking to ourselves and each other about His goodness, which often inspires worship. Music is an important form, though by no means the only form, of both praise and worship. Naturally, some people will be drawn more to one form or another. The important thing is that we all worship the Lord, not that we all do it in the same way.

Emotional praise and an emotional call to worship are both legitimate means to the end of encouraging the congregation to worship the Lord together, which will be an activity charged with emotion, although different people will manifest that emotion differently. I need to be careful not to judge my brother, thinking that if I were kneeling / sitting / standing / raising my hands / dancing that way, I would be thinking/feeling thus and so.

I have, however, seen emotion misused in two ways: First, it can become an end in itself. We move from talking/singing about God (legitimate) to talking/singing about how we feel about Him (also legitimate) to talking/singing about our feelings (not wrong, but not necessarily worship) to reveling in our feelings and forgetting God (bad). I've seen both Old-Time Gospel and Up-to-the-Millisecond Contemporary preachers and music leaders gauge their success by emotional intensity they achieve, forgetting its object. People get addicted to an emotion, and no longer care why they feel that way. I once knew a woman who defined a good book as one that could make her cry. I call it emotional masturbation.

Second, emotion can be used as a tool to manipulate people, building one's own kingdom instead of God's. The focus is on what the leader wants the people to do, usually for him. Unchecked, it can lead to cultish devotion to the organization and its leaders. I have been burned. The moment I feel I am being manipulated, my emotions shut down. I will continue to praise the Lord because he commands it, but I can't worship.

Perhaps those people at Trinity were afraid an excess of emotion could be used to lead people away from the truth (though doctrinally shaky lyrics) or away from God's kingdom (through a charismatic leader). Rather than fear emotion, I believe we should thank God when it leads us toward Him, but be aware that it doesn't always. I don't see a fear of emotion in the Scriptures, but even in the Psalms, it is never an end itself. Emotions are like the wind, now blowing this way, now that way. Rather than praising or condemning the wind, let's note its strength and direction, and set our sails wisely.

Not a Tame Lion, part 1

I grew up in a deeply religious family, although they would have denied being religious, because in the Baptist church we attended, as in others like it, "religion" was a bad word. "I'm not religious," we learned to say, "I just love the Lord."

We didn't repeat prayers out of a book. That would be "vain repetition as the heathen." Even repeating the Lord's prayer didn't count as a "real" prayer. We learned that Jesus gave it to us as a sort of outline for making up our own prayers, but didn't mean for us to literally repeat His words as our own. I guess that would be plaigarisim. We crafted our heartfelt prayers on the fly, which made them real, although they did tend to follow the same patterns and be built from the same collection of stock phrases.

"Tradition" was another bad word. We had a strong tradition of not having any traditions that we were aware of. We had certain ways of doing things; we did them that way over and over, with little variation, and woe to anyone who joined our group and tried to change them (or, being unaware of them, blundered out of bounds) but that's not the same thing.

I remember being shocked the first time I visited a church that had Sunday School after the worship service. Can you do that? They didn't even take an offering. There was a box (padlocked, of course) by the door, and you dropped your offering through the slot in the top. After attending that church for several years, I happened to be out of town one Sunday morning, and visited another church. The pastor called some men up front, one of them said a money blessing, the organist played some mood music, and they circulated through the pews collecting money. After several years of not seeing that procedure, man, did it look tacky!

We didn't have rituals either. Actually, we always said we didn't have empty rituals. Those words usually went together, and it was strongly implied that there was no other kind. We had baptism and the Lord's Supper because, well, because Jesus said to, and we did them very solemnly, like a funeral. But we went to great lengths to explain that they were only symbols, with no power in themselves. (We also went to great lengths to explain that when Jesus said wine, he didn't really mean wine, but grape juice, because wine contains alcohol, and we were convinced that drinking alcohol was a sin. And if Jesus drank wine, it was only because he didn't have the good fortune to be born in the days of refrigeration, so it was the best He could do. But He probably drank the weakest wine available.)

Before partaking of either baptism or the Lord's Supper, you had to say the appropriate prayer, but the power wasn't in the words of the prayer, either, it was in somehow getting your heart right with God. Once you cleaned up your dirty mind and straightened up your crooked or slipshod ways, you could be filled with the Holy Spirit. After that, He'd be giving orders and so long as you followed them, well and good. When you didn't, He would make sure you felt terrible. Then you would have to go back and ask for an extension on your original forgiveness, and try again to shape up.

We didn't have infant baptism, but we didn't call it adult baptism either; it was Believer's Baptism. You didn't have to be an adult; you just had to be old enough to believe.* Baptism didn't save you, believing did. Once you believed (remembering the exact time was considered good evidence, as was praying the Sinner's Prayer) then if you died that minute, that night, or a hundred years later, you were going to Heaven with no further preparation required. Once saved, always saved. But you really still ought to be baptized because, well, Jesus said to, and it was a "testimony"—sort of a commercial for being saved. We kind of overlooked the verses that say, "Repent and be baptized for the forgiveness of sins."

I "came forward" (another of our non-rituals) when I was very young. A man took me to a small room and led me in a prayer. I don't remember a lot of details, but he said if I didn't, I'd go be with the Devil, and I didn't want that. When we got home, I told my mom that I'd asked Jesus in my heart, and I was a Christian now. She was so happy, she cried. I was confused. Hadn't I done something good? I was four. The next day, I decided I wanted my sister to have Jesus in her heart, too. She was agreeable to the idea, so I prayed for her, and then went and told my mom that I had prayed for my sister and made her a Christian, too. Mom said it didn't work that way.

Salvation and belief were equivalent, and considered a one-time event. So was baptism, unless you went to a church that did it wrong. Then you had to do it again to get it right. I figured I had the salvation thing taken care of, but I was not ready to be baptized. Have you seen how deep those baptistries are? They had a concrete block for little people to stand on, but what if the pastor dropped me? I decided there was no way I was going in that tank until I learned how to swim. I learned to swim when I was eight, but had to pinch my nose with one hand to keep the water out, so I could only swim in circles. The next year, I learned to swim a little better, but it took me yet another year to work up the nerve to get baptized. I was ten.
So I was saved and baptized, and my past sins were forgiven. I probably could have coasted for a long time without thinking about sin if it weren't for Communion. In my church, to receive Communion, you had to be "saved". That meant you understood and believed that you were a sinner, Jesus died for your sins, and you accepted His forgiveness. You also had to understand what Communion represented. Baptism was not required.

We had Communion once a month. Every time, the pastor would read 1 Corinthians 11:23-32. I especially took notice of verses 27-29: "Wherefore whosoever shall eat this bread, and drink this cup of the Lord, unworthily, shall be guilty of the body and blood of the Lord. But let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of that bread, and drink of that cup. For he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damnation to himself, not discerning the Lord's body." I don't know about you, but I sin more than once a month. When I examine myself, I find it's a whole lot more. I was surprised how often I sinned. I had the mistaken impression that God was surprised, too.

So I confessed my latest sins, and asked forgiveness. I knew God wiped out my past sins, but I thought then I could stop sinning. Or at least go longer between sins, and overcome them one by one. I found myself confessing the same sins over and over. I knew I only obtained forgiveness by the grace of God, but I felt as if I were required to reform on my own. I was failing miserably.

I don't mean to say that my church's theology was really this confused, but this is how I understood it as a child. Then I happened to hear a sermon on the radio that explained something I think my church had been trying to teach, but I had somehow missed. It described three "levels" of Christian living, and identified them with three verses:
1 John 1:9 "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." I knew this verse. I would sin, then confess, and He would forgive. But I kept on sinning.

1 Corinthians 10:13 "There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it." So God actually limits the temptation to what we can handle, AND provides a way out? I'd had the impression that once He gave us a fresh start, we were sort of on probation, and required to make it the rest of the way on our own. But here He is, actually stacking the deck in our favor!

Galatians 2:20 "I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me." I'd heard this verse before, but this preacher explained something I hadn't understood: you can't stop sinning on your own. You don't have the strength. God's power is required to remove your old sins, and God's power is required to keep you from new sins. You're like a baby who can stand while holding on to something, but not walk on his own. You can continue circling the coffee table all day, but if you want to go anywhere, you have to reach out for His hand. Holding His hand, you can walk, but the minute you let go, you'll fall down. God is not disappointed that you need His hand every step of the way. He is not surprised when you fall down. In fact, He only lets you fall so you'll reach out for His hand.

*Naturally, that age varied with the individual. If you died before you could understand "the plan of salvation" you went to Heaven anyway because you were below the "age of accountability" a concept that seems to have developed because no one wants to tell the grieving parents of a dead infant or toddler that their child went to Hell. (If ignorance is an excuse, why send missionaries? Well, because Jesus said to. That simplifies a lot of decisions.) I suspect that infant baptism arose for the same reason. What happens to children who die very young? I don't see any reason God couldn't give them a free pass, but I don't see an explicit promise in Scripture that He does. This is an emotional question for me because I have ten children who died before they were born. I don't have any easy answers. I'll trust that whatever God does is right, even if I don't know what that is, because that's all I can do.

Things that make you go, "Hmm."

I just read a thought-provoking post about redemption. I think she raises some valid points, but I can't help feeling she's missing something. She's certainly been out in left field before. Unfortunately, her idea of a good discussion is one where everyone agrees with her. And the last time I employed my rapier wit against an instance of blogging stupidity, the perpetrator got so offended she stopped blogging entirely. (Note to self: Texans can dish it out, but they can't take it.)

Was your day this bad?

I was looking forward to participating in this feature, but couldn't find anything suitable in the last two weeks. Stress? Yes. Chaos? Absolutely. Hard work? Challenge? Check and check. But nothing really memorable, let alone funny. So I'm posting one from the archives. I've been blogging long enough that I have archives? How time does fly!

Arby 1, Papa Bear 0.

Palm Sunday: It's only fun until someone loses an eye!

O.K., no one lost an eye at my church this morning, but I have been poked in the eye when some short people related to me got over-enthusiastic with their palm fronds. And I'm sure it happened again today to someone, somewhere. With fronds like these, who needs enemies?

Palm Sunday is a strange holiday. Even staid congregations that don't usually leave their pews for any other reason have processions. People who would normally never raise their hands in church are waving tree branches. And think about it: palms--which would never survive the winters here--before the first hint of buds on local trees.

But the strangest part is this: we praise Jesus by reenacting a scene in which we play the crowd that turned on Him and demanded his crucifixion. I still remember telling my mother about the morning's Sunday school lesson on our way home from church, Palm Sunday, 1975. How Jesus rode into Jerusalem, and the people recognized Him as the Messiah, and cheered as he went by, saying, "Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!" We relished the story together, but then she pointed out, "Those were the same people shouting, 'Crucify Him!' a week later."

Oh. The teacher hadn't mentioned that. It worried me a bit that people could be so fickle, so treacherous. But I thought I could never do that. Over the years, I noticed that the two stories were kept separate in most of the churches I attended. The connection might be mentioned in passing, but the stories were told on separate occasions. I still waved my palm branches, but I felt vaguely guilty doing so. Should we imitate these people who didn't stay true to Him?

Fast forward to my first Palm Sunday at an Episcopal church. We had the procession, we waved our palm branches, I got poked in the eye, all in the usual way. But when we got to the Gospel reading, instead of the rector reading the entire passage, there were parts for him and parts for the people. When I heard my own voice crying out with the whole congregation, "Crucify Him! Crucify Him!" an old lesson hit home in a powerful way. My heart is fickle, even treacherous. The choices I have made (and continue to make) sent Him to Calvary. It is only when I recognize my voice in the crowd saying, "Crucify Him!" that I am truly able to cry out, "Hosanna," literally, "Save us!" I was reluctant to identify with the hypocritical crowd, fearing it would make me a hypocrite. What I'd failed to see was that identifying with the crowd only revealed the hypocrisy that was already there. Which of us has not, by our words or our silence, by our actions or our failure to act, failed and failed again to live up to the faith we profess?

The most persistent objection of unbelievers is that "there are hypocrites in the church." Now we all know that there are those in every church who are not yet truly converted, those who pretend to be holy to impress their friends, families, or neighbors. If we forget, there are Christ's own words to remind us: "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven." But the reason this accusation stings is that no one is so aware of his own sin as a true believer. We are commanded to confront and eradicate it, even at the cost of a hand or an eye. You can fool your neighbors, you can fool your friends, you can fool your pastor, and, most frightening, you can even fool yourself, but you can't fool God. What happened when Ananias and Sapphira lied to the Holy Spirit and were struck dead? Great fear came upon the whole church, and more than ever believers were added to the Lord.

Outsiders who complain of the hypocrites in the church seem to imply that they are above that sort of thing, perhaps not so holy as the holiest believers, but wholly without pretense. Hogwash! Why is the church so full of hypocrites? Because the world is so full of hypocrites. Every problem in the church is a direct result of the fact that we keep letting those damned sinners in, but the reason the church exists is to bring in damned sinners! Some of them will continue to deceive themselves, and those who will become holy will become holy over time. We can't be sure who's who. If we try to uproot the weeds, we will uproot some of the wheat with them. We are commanded to let both grow together until the harvest.

So I admit it, I'm a hypocrite. But if I stayed away from church, I would still be a hypocrite. The church has my only hope of a cure. Seeing hypocrites in the church and saying the church causes hypocrisy is like seeing cancer patients in the hospital and saying the hospital causes cancer. At times, I'm tempted to rap with Steve Taylor:

Can't understand those Christians, so
You type us all in stereo:
"They're hypocrites! They're such a bore!"
Well, come on in! There's room for one more!

But when I look at my own heart, I have to say what Edmund said to Eustace after he'd been un-dragoned: "You were only an ass, but I was a traitor."

A Voice Crying in the Wilderness

How a Simple Tradition Led from Commercialism to Christ
Here are links to this series of posts, in order:
Part 1 Early Memories and the Expanding Season
Part 2 Keeping Christ in Christmas?
Part 3 Joining In
Part 4 Something New Needed
Part 5 Scaling Back
Part 6 Separating the Celebrations
Part 7 Discovering Advent
Part 8 The Challenge
Part 9 Advent Hymns
Part 10 Advent Prayers
Part 11 Christmas Eve
Part 12 Christmas Day
Part 13 The Hearts of the Fathers: After Christmas?

Read about how other families are celebrating a holy Advent in The Advent Carnival.

A Voice Crying in the Wilderness Pt. 13

The Hearts of the Fathers: After Christmas?

“But the angel said unto him, Fear not, Zacharias: for thy prayer is heard; and thy wife Elisabeth shall bear thee a son, and thou shalt call his name John... And many of the children of Israel shall he turn to the Lord their God. And he shall go before his face in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to walk in the wisdom of the just; to make ready for the Lord a people prepared for him.” Luke 1:13,16-17

With the frenzied activity of our old December habits, after Christmas came the inevitable letdown. Advent was the framework that organized and supported all our previous efforts to build a more meaningful Christmas celebration. The feelings of anxious hurry were replaced by feelings of calm and happy expectation. The boys expected the readings, and complained if we missed a day. When we read in the morning, we saw improved attitudes and behavior all day. In church on Sundays, we listened more attentively because we were better prepared.

But what about after Christmas? After a week or two, my wife said, “These readings are good. I think we should continue them after Advent.” I told her there were readings for the twelve days from Christmas to Epiphany. “No,” she said, “I mean we should continue them all year.” Three years later, family worship has become a habit. We've missed days, and even weeks, but our days feel incomplete without it, so we always return to it.

A Voice Crying in the Wilderness Pt. 12

Christmas Day
The weeks leading up to Christmas were pleasant and peaceful, but Christmas Day seemed empty. Most of our activities were done, our presents already opened, and aside from Christmas dinner, which was simple to prepare, there didn’t seem to be anything to do. Everyone else was busy with the activities we had reduced, businesses that didn’t close any other time were closed, and nothing seemed worth doing at home.

Midnight Christmas Eve services were an important tradition for many families, so we gave it a try. The church was hot and stuffy, crowded with people who hadn’t been there since last Christmas. The church had modern hymnals that had changed so many of the words that even the most familiar carols were hard to sing. There seemed to be a year’s supply of readings, carols, and choral numbers. The service seemed like it would never end. No wonder these people hadn’t been back since last year! Then the pastor got up and said, those of you who come here every week, this sermon is not for you, so you can tune out. Those who come once a year, this is the only time I get to preach to you, and I’ve got you for an hour, so I’ll give it to you straight. He preached hot and heavy for an hour. By the time Communion started, I just wanted to go home. Christmas Day seemed even more empty, we were all tired, Mom and Dad had headaches, and the boys were out of sorts.

The next year, we went to the Christmas Day service. What a difference! There were very few people there, but everything was calm and bright. Instead of stress and fatigue, we were full of peace and joy. There was a feeling of being in the right place.

Afterward, we went home, prepared our quiet meal, and spent a relaxed and happy day together. Because we selected only the food that made Christmas special for us, there was not too much cooking, but we had a delightfully memorable meal. We didn’t even put on any weight in December.

We played table games and read stories. There was no fighting, arguing, whining, or complaining, and no broken toys. No one was busy with extensive preparations, no one had to stay out of the way, no one had to rush off, no one felt trapped in the house, and no one was tired or had a headache. Instead, we felt thankful for our Savior, happy to be together, and free to enjoy the day.

“The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain: And the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the LORD hath spoken.” Isaiah 40:3-5

All four Gospels quote this prophecy about John the Baptist’s preparation for Jesus’ arrival. There is no mention of gifts, cards, pageants, music, decorations, travel, family, food, drink, or most of the other things we have come to associate with the Christmas season.

“John did baptize in the wilderness, and preach the baptism of repentance for the remission of sins. And there went out unto him all the land of Judaea, and they of Jerusalem, and were all baptized of him in the river of Jordan, confessing their sins.”
Mark 1:4-5

May we all be so prepared.

A Voice Crying in the Wilderness Pt. 11

Christmas Eve
We tried to include others in our simpler celebration, and those who came enjoyed it, but most people were too busy and too tired. On Christmas Eve, I read the Christmas story, and the boys acted it out with their Nativity. We had a few family members stop by for cookies, and sang carols together. Then we went to bed at our usual time.