Category: faith

We did the Hokey Pokey in church yesterday. In a big circle, during the sermon.

Obviously it was a strange message. There really wasn’t much to it. But still, something that was said has stuck with me. The man who was speaking was describing how he used to do the Hokey Pokey with his kids when they were young. He said that although they loved the entire dance and performed it with boundless energy, they just could not wait to get to the part where they put their “whole self” in.

As our congregation was instructed to form a big circle (you can do this kind of stuff in a tiny church like ours) and the song began to play, I admit that I was cynical. But then I began to look around. There was my best friend’s mom doing a cute little shake as she turned herself around. There was my dad – I never could have pictured him like this when I was younger! – with a huge smile on his face, my mom equally enthusiastic beside him, doing the motions with gusto. And there were all the kids and youth of the church throwing themselves into it as if they were at the roller rink and not Big Church.

As I looked at all these people putting their whole selves in, I wished I could do the same. Don’t expect me to be going crazy the next time we are asked to do a silly dance in church, but maybe I can try a little harder to put my whole self into the things that I do. Maybe one day I won’t care as much about what I look like or what people think of me. Maybe one day I’ll get over myself.

He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”

Matthew 18:2-4

Our church is between pastors at the moment, so what we have been doing is calling on the members of the church to give the sermons. A different person each week speaks. Even though it will be nice to have a pastor again, this is a very special time for us as a church because we get to hear from so many different people. I was asked to give the message yesterday, Father’s Day. Even though I sort of dreaded it in the weeks leading up to it and was pretty nervous, it turned out to be a very rewarding experience.

A portion:

To really feel the amazement of what happens when you accept God as your father and thus pass from death to life, you have to see it not just as a transition from condemnation into acceptance, but as a transition out of bondage and destitution into the safety, certainty, and enjoyment of the family of God. This is what Paul was trying to express to his readers in Galations 4:1-7 when he says, “you are no longer a slave but a son, and if a son then an heir.” I believe that this is what all humans desire at the core of their being. It’s why so many myths, fairy tales, and stories resonate so deeply, because they illustrate our heart’s true longing. Take Cinderella, probably the most famous and loved fairy tale of all. It’s about a girl who is being held basically as a slave to her evil stepmother and stepsisters, forced to do the most menial, humiliating, and laborious tasks. But then she is transformed and by the end of the story she has become the wife of the prince. Or there’s the story of the little orphan Annie. Annie is stuck all alone in a miserable orphanage run by the tyrannical Miss Hannigan, but she ends up being adopted by the powerful, rich, and caring Mr. Warbucks. Countless variations of these stories have been written or made into movies. We love them because that’s what we want to happen to us. But the good news is that it has! The story of God and his children is the greatest fairy tale there is, except that it’s true.

Here is the complete manuscript if you’re interested, and I will post the video on that page soon.

As I have mentioned before, this semester in school has been hard on me. It has been extremely time-consuming and stressful. I hardly noticed when Lent began. I barely have time in the morning to read a Bible verse. I try to pray throughout the day, but let’s be honest. That doesn’t always work. Yet I didn’t want to just let Holy Week come and go like any other week, so I decided to find a church service to attend for Good Friday. I wanted something solemn, something traditional. I decided on an episcopal church, where they were performing the stations of the cross service. I went by myself, because sometimes I like doing things alone. And this was one of those times.

I walked into the cathedral-style sanctuary and took my seat on the third row. There weren’t many people there yet, as I was 15-20 minutes early. A minute later the choir began to warm up and tears immediately and unexpectedly filled my eyes. I didn’t realize how much I missed singing in a Christian choir. In college, at Tabor, I sang for all four years. My director was wonderful and passionate and he and the songs he chose for us never failed to inspire me. This church I attended had an excellent choir, and with their music filling the room it all washed over me again at that moment.

When the service began, I fell in love; I think I was born to be an Episcopalian. I loved the entire process, from beginning to end. I loved the robes the choir wore, with the crosses hanging from their necks. I loved the liturgy. I loved the recitation:

V. We adore thee, O Christ, and we bless thee:
R. Because by thy holy cross thou hast redeemed the world.

I loved the procession. I even loved all the standing and kneeling. I especially loved the short hymns we sang in between stations:

“Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Kyrie eleison. Lord, have mercy upon us. Christ have mercy upon us. Lord, have mercy upon us.”

“Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom. Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.”

I loved the sound, and I loved the silence. And I loved how it made me remember. This year, I hope Easter will not be just another day.