Reflections by Maxie Dunnam

Simone Weil is one of my favorite and challenging “spiritual” writers.. She diagnosed the human predicament in this way: “The danger is not that there is no bread, but that we have convinced ourselves that we are not hungry.”

Read that again, slowly and then sit quietly and reflect.

Is Weil right? How many people do you know who are operating out of a conviction that if they have an abundance of things, take good care of their bodies and satisfy their physical drives, then life is OK. That sort of mind-set easily adopts the motto: “He who dies with the most toys wins.”

But then you come across a person who has a peace and joy that you don’t understand. There is nothing frantic about her, and as you know her, you realize she believes that life is not a matter of quantity, but quality. It’s not a matter of getting, it’s a matter of giving. It’s not a matter of the material, it’s a matter of the spiritual.

Then we realize Simone Weil was right: Are you hungry? 

“The danger is not that there is no bread, but that we have convinced ourselves that we are not hungry.” 

A Thanksgiving

~John Kendrick Bangs

For summer rains, and winter’s sun,
For autumn breezes crisp and sweet;
For labors doing, to be done,
And labors all complete;
or April, May, and lovely June,
For bud, and bird, and berried vine;
For joys of morning, night, and noon,
My thanks, dear Lord, are Thine!

For loving friends on every side;
For children full of joyous glee;
For all the blessed Heavens wide,
And for the sounding sea;
For mountains, valleys, forests deep;
For maple, oak, and lofty pine;
For rivers on their seaward sweep,
My thanks, dear Lord, are Thine!

For light and air, for sun and shade,
For merry laughter and for cheer;
For music and the glad parade
Of blessings through the year;
For all the fruitful earth’s increase,
For home and life, and love divine,
For hope, and faith, and perfect peace,
My thanks, dear Lord, are Thine!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING 

One of our favorite pastimes is to spend time thinking about how well off other people are and how bad off we are. We have so many sorrows. We think so many bad things have happened to us. Why is it that we suffer? When John and Jane go untouched, why do we deserve to be punished in this fashion? 

The Hasidic Jews have a story about the sorrow tree. According to them, on Judgment Day we will be invited to hang all of our own miseries from the tree of sorrows. When we have done that we will be given permission to walk around the tree and survey everyone else’s miseries in order to select a set we like better. According to Hasidic legend, in the end we freely choose our own personal set of sorrows once more. That’s a charming way of saying that when we see the suffering and sorrow of others, more often than not, we are quite happy to keep our own. 

Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow. It empties today of its strength.”

-Corrie Ten Boom

O.J. Simpson, the Juice, died on April 10, at age 76. One news columnist opened his story with these words, “It marked the end of a long and turbulent life marked by poverty. survival, riches, violence, and stardom.” 

The centerpiece of the t.v. reporting was a line of limousine-type vans…the second one in the line, white; the others black. O.J. was in white van, being brought to “the law” in Los Angeles, accused of killing his second wife. In the decades before, he was known as the Juice…a Heisman Trophy winner, Hall of Fame running back for USC and the Buffalo Bills. He was the father of five children. 

Perhaps the most surprising and jarring dimension of his life was his refusal to become involved in the Civil Rights Struggle. Those who critiqued him have pretty much agreed that his desire for money, status, and white acceptance was a moral failure that “overrode the call for first class citizenship for Black Americans.” 

A well-researched and documented article on his death closed with this scathing word: “O.J. Simpson could have been on a pedestal as a man who stood for something bigger than himself. In the end he died much as he had lived: arrogant, self-obsessed, without regard for those around him.” (Daryl A. Carter, Commercial Appeal. April 21`, 20224) 

The lead story in the newspaper that carried this Simpson death story was headlined A TRUE PIONEER. It was a story celebrating Jackie Robinson Day, April 15. After sharing a number of fantastic career statistics, the writer noted that while the stats were rattled off “in rushed asides, like footnotes” they were critical because “they explain why Jackie was the perfect choice to integrate Major League Baseball and, pioneering barriar-breaking achievements aside, how he became one of the greatest baseball players to ever lace up a pair of cleats.” (Andrea Williams) 

The story concluded with these words: “Jackie became a player by accident, by nature of racism and segregation and all the ills he would spend his whole life fighting against, even after he hung up his cleats. But none of those whys matter anymore. All that matters is that he did, and that baseball—and our world—are better for it.” 

I invite you to read again the way the life story the Pioneer and the Juice conclude. I urge you to ponder with me….how will my life story conclude? As long as we are alive, we can think and act in ways that may close the way our life will be described. 

A group of sociologists conducted a survey among a group of 50 elderly people at a life care retirement home. Each was asked to complete an open-ended sentence. “If I had it to do over again, I would ______. Three answers emerged. One, I would reflect more. Two, I would risk more. Three, I would do more things that would live on after I am dead. 

You know immediately I would say, Good lessons for our Kirby Family. The title of this monthly column is REFLECTIONS. 

How reflective are you? Do you move through life at such a hectic pace that you never stop to ask what does all this mean? Is God trying to say something to me in these circumstances? 

What about risk taking? In my preaching and teaching I often ask the question, Do you prefer the hell of a predictable situation rather than risk the joy of an unpredictable one? In reflection, as I look back on my life, the richest, most rewarding periods have come when I have taken the greatest risks. 

The third question may be the most important and challenging: What are you doing, or have done, that will be remembered after you are dead? Will the memories bring joy or sadness? Appreciation or concern? How many folks will be able to say, “I’m so glad my path crossed his”? 

I urge you to spend some deliberate time reflecting on these concerns. I close with this word, there are many who will read this column, whom I have had the privilege of meeting and knowing here at Kirby, to whom I can joyfully say, “I’m so glad my path crossed yours.” 

As I reflect, I am confronted with this challenging fact: It isn’t too late for me to do something about any one of these issues. 

IN my growing up years in rural Mississippi, we sang a lot in our worship. Many of our songs focused on salvation; especially judgement, and life after death. I can still remember, and often when I’m alone, I sing some of those songs. 

When We All Get to Heaven 
I’ll Meet You in the Morning 
This World is Not My Home 

There was a season in my theological journey when I snickered at some of those songs…the imagery was so literal and the emphasis on heaven, so “sentimental.” I’m grateful that portion of my journey didn’t last too long. Today, I sing joyfully. 

This world is not my home 
I’m just a-passing through 
My treasures are laid up 
Somewhere beyond the blue 
The angels beckon me 
`From heaven’s open door 
And I can’t feel at home anymore. 

Since Eden, we have never known a world without sin, suffering and death. For Christians, “new persons in Christ,” our faith is certain: this world, is not our home. It is not all there is. Jesus didn’t fumble with his words. He talked about a place “with many rooms’ to which he was going to prepare place for his friends, “that you may be where I am.” (John 14:13) 

Pilgrims is a good label for Christians. This earth, as it is, will never be our home. But think of it…a new heaven, and a new earth. Though our eternal home is not presently on earth, God’s promise is that, “in heaven,” we will share in creating a new earth. 

Why don’t you sing it with me, 

Just over in Glory-land 
We’ll live eternally 
The saints on every hand 
Are shouting victory 
Their songs of sweetest praise 
Drift back from heaven’s shore 
And I can’t feel at home 
In this world anymore. 

Have you ever stopped to think how many important things in scripture take place in a garden? It all began in the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve rebelled; through self-will they alienated themselves from the love of God. 

It was in the garden of Gethsemane that Jesus fought the greatest battle of his life. 

We have just celebrated Easter; it happened in a garden. Remember a part of the story. Mary was in that garden. She had come to that place, anxious and grieving. Her dreams and that of the small group of followers of Jesus–the dreams for a Messiah– were shattered in that garden.To intensify all those feelings of pain and despair, insult was added to injury. They discovered that the stone had been rolled away from the tomb, and the body of Jesus had been taken away. The disciples who were with Mary at the tomb that early morning had gone back home to nurse their pain and depression. 

Mary lingered in in the garden, outside the tomb. Weeping and not knowing what to do, she took another look into the tomb. And there, on the stone, where the body of Jesus had been laying, were seated angels who asked, “Woman, why are you weeping?” 

Can you feel the pain in her response? What pathos! “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him.” 

And then it happened. She turned around and there was Jesus. At first she didn’t recognize him when he asked, , “Woman, why are you weeping; whom are you seeking?” 

We have celebrated Easter, but let’s not move away too quickly. Let’s focus on some learnings for us from Mary. First, she didn’t recognize Jesus for a very simple reason: her tears. 

She was crying so much that she was blinded. It happens to us, doesn’t it? Our tears often blind us to what’s going on around us. We miss the lessons life is trying to teach us because we are so preoccupied with our own pain and grief, our disappointment and defeat. 

Sometimes our tears are selfish. We center on our loss. We don’t put our situation in perspective. How often do we do this at the death of a loved one. Our loneliness and loss is intense. We weep for ourselves, not for the loved one who has gone to be the eternal guest of God. We can be blinded by our tears. 

But there’s another reason why Mary did not recognize Jesus: She was facing in the wrong direction. Not just her eyes, but her mind was on the tomb. 

We fall into that snare? We focus on our defeat and loss. Easter calls us to look in the direction of new life, and new possibility. 

Memory is such a valuable tool. Often, when I am having difficulty sleeping, in my mind I will sing a favroite hymn, or quote scripture. Recently, I was focusing on the 23rd Psalm and came to the finale which grabbed me more powerfully than ever, Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. 

Thank you, Lord, for memory. The poet said God gave us memory that we might have roses in December. We don’t have to leave Easter behind. Sure, we have some painful memories, and we need to deal with them. But we can do so with the overarching promise of the Psalmist, Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. 

We don’t have to be blinded by our tears. An ongoing Easter-life calls us to look in the direction of new life, and new possibility. 

Three-year-old Ryan and his five-year-old sister were playing on the floor following a family dinner while the adults tried to have a conversation. Lisa opened her new toy nurse’s kit and convinced Ryan to be her patient. She took the little stethoscope and placed it on her brother’s heart, listened intently — as good nurses do. Suddenly she announced, “I hear somebody walking around in there.”

The adults smiled at this, but Ryan, matter-of-factly answered, “Why, that must be Jesus.”

That’s the amazing promise, and one of the central claims of the Christian Gospel — that Christ may live in us. Indeed that is Paul’s definition of a Christian. “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has passed away, behold, the new has come” (II Corinthians 5:17).

In Colossians 2: 6, Paul said, “As you have therefore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so live in Him.” The King James Version has that, “As ye have therefore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in Him.” Students of Pauline thought, are agreed that the phrase “In Christ” is the central category of Paul’s thinking. This phrase, “in Christ,” or “in Christ Jesus”, is used by Paul in his letters 169 times.

What does Paul mean by this vital image “in Christ”? It means one, a new status; two, a new style, and three, a new strength.

Persons who are in Christ are people in whom a new principle of life has been implanted. They are in Christ.

I think of that in two ways. First, from the perspective of what we might call imitation, then from the perspective of immersion.

By grace we are saved through faith.”

– Kevin De Young

We are in the Lenten Season, looking forward to Easter (Mar. 3l) I urge you to join me in being more intentional in imitating Jesus, walking in his style. But more, immerse yourself in Christ: renew your commitment to spiritual discipline…scripture reading, prayer, worship, spiritual conversation with people you know who are wanting to be “more like Jesus,”

As Christians, we are, in principle new persons in Christ., As we walk as Christ would have us walk, and immerse ourselves in Christ—that is surrender ourselves to His Spirit within, His grace will make us, in fact, the new persons we already are.

Integrity is doing the right thing, even when no one is watching.” 

– C.S. Lewis

In his classic volume, The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis offers 31 imaginary letters from Screwtape, the primary personality of Hell, to his nephew Wormwood, a junior devil just starting his first assignment on earth. The purpose of the correspondence, done humorously, is to show how Hell seeks constantly to divert would-be Christians from following the ways of Heaven. 

In one note, Screwtape tells Wormwood the most productive way to overcome good people is to not only work on their pride, but infect them with a sense of false pride… 

“Catch him at the moment when he is really poor in spirit and smuggle into his mind the gratifying reflection, “By jove! I’m being humble,” and almost immediately, pride—pride at his own humility—will appear. If he awakes to the danger and tries to smother this new form of pride, make him proud of his attempt— and so on, through as many stages as you please. But don’t try this too long, for fear you awake his sense of humor and proportion in which case he will merely laugh at you and go to bed.” [1] 

We need to stay sensitive to the danger of pride. We easily fall into the pit of being preoccupied with ourselves. Jesus told a parable about this. (Jn. 18:9-14) The story is simple and straightforward. Two men went into the Temple to pray. One boasted to God of all his good qualities; the other simply asked for God’s mercy. The reason Jesus told the parable is expressed in verse 9: “He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and despised others.” 

For years I missed the connection Jesus made: how we feel about ourselves has a result on how we feel about and treat others. Get it? They were righteous and despised others.” 

Two failures are implicit here: we look at ourselves in relation to others and fail to look at ourselves in relation to God. In either case the warning is clear: don’t fall into the pit of being preoccupied with your yourself. 

Singing is one of our greatest expressions in the Christian faith and way, especially in the Wesleyan/Methodist tradition. We sing our faith. 

In our tradition, we happily express four “all” convictions about salvation: all need to be saved; all can be saved; all can know they are saved; all can be saved to the uttermost. 

As I contemplate the passing of time and our move into the new year, the third “all” is dominant in my reflection: all can know they are saved. There are few experiences that can provide more power in our lives than to have assurance of our salvation. Think what it could do for any one of us: 

Our timidity and uncertainty about witnessing would be dissolved. We would not be intimidated by those “buttonhole” witnesses who come on like gangbusters. We would know that tenderness, patience, and understanding are authentic testimonies, as well as words. 

We would not get overwrought with our Christian friends who insist on future security, for we would be assured of our present relationship with Christ. 

We would be joyous in our service for God, but not driven in our works, or mistaken in the notion that our works would save us. 

We would be delivered from frantic preoccupation with taking our spiritual temperature minute by minute, because we could relax in our trust in the Lord. 

And all of that would help every one of us, wouldn’t it? 

We are certainly affirming the Gospel truth when we sing Fanny Crosby’s Blessed Assurance.

We can go into the new year in confidence, if we have this blessed assurance. 

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine! 
O what a foretaste of glory divine! 
Heir of salvation, purchase of God, 
Born of his Spirit, washed in his blood.“

– Hymn by Fanny Crosby 

There is no more exciting world than the world of children. Charles Schulz, in his Peanut cartoons, perceives and probes that world in a marvelous way. One year during the Christmas season, he put into drawing and dialogue one of those common exchanges between children that has deep and uncommon meaning. Sally asked Charlie Brown, “Is it Christmas yet?” “Four more days,” responds Charlie Brown. “How come it takes so long?” Sally wants to know. Without even looking up from the TV, Charlie Brown gets off one of those off-the-cuff philosophical statements that one can chew on all day. “Christmas is on the top of steep hill,” he said, “and the closer you get to it, the steeper the hill is.” 

As I reflect, I conclude Charlie Brown is right. The birth of Jesus was on the top of steep hill, not literally, though Bethlehem is on a hill. Men had longed and prayed for the Messiah. The years of sorrow and suffering, darkness and death had dragged endlessly on. Through the prophets, God kept telling them that “in the fullness of time,” the Messiah would come. 

That time came, and Jesus was born. He said he would come, and he did. He came to give us life, and he promised to come again to fully establish his Kingdom with his followers living with him eternally. 

He will keep that promise. I want to solidly lodge two sentences in your mind for your reflection and action as you stay ready for his coming. Let this be the hill you climb as Christmas comes and your celebration will be as joyful as the children. First, we have plenty of everything, except what we need to make what we have worthwhile. Spend a few minutes pondering that before you read further………….. 

The second word: The best we have without Christ is not enough for salvation, not enough to give us abundant life. We need a Messiah, a savior, a life giver. Christmas is on the top of a steep hill of acknowledging our need. When we acknowledge that all of our getting and spending, our accumulation of things, the way we excuse our selfishness and efforts at self-justification, the way we go about trying to rationalize our un-involvement with the needs of the world, the way we seek salvation in so many places. 

When we realize that all this is futile, and wait and pray in expectation and openness, then we will see the salvation of the Lord. ‘Until he comes again, by his grace we can move from one degree of glory to another.