The Table
Stories
What's Up This Week
Note: This installment was originally published in 2010.
We all have a fear of "the great unwashed." While there are often legitimate concerns about safety and security -- especially in inner-city parishes -- how much of our attitude is really just a product of looking down our noses at those "others," folks whose problems and mores may seem threatening to us? Are we really all that different -- or better -- than them? After all, before the Lord we are all sinners in need of forgiveness and redemption. In this week's edition of StoryShare, Keith Hewitt places this question squarely before us with his tale of a pastor's dream in which he finds himself at a table with many of these folks -- and feels every bit as much apprehension about being accepted as they do in "polite society." Then Lamar Massingill shares an intriguing meditation on the references in this week's gospel text to "glorifying," placing them in the context of the relationship -- and difference -- between "reputation" and "character."
* * * * * * * * *
The Table
by Keith Hewitt
Acts 11:1-18
They were greeters -- it said so right in the church bulletin -- but careful observation over a period of time would have shown a most curious behavior. While most who came to the church were greeted warmly, there were the others -- the ones who were unkempt, who wore clothes that had not been laundered in recent memory, who looked perpetually hungry or tired, or who argued with the voices in their head as they walked -- who received special attention from the greeters. As these souls approached the church doors, the greeters would meet them on the steps, stop them with a greeting, and then carefully point them toward the Division Street Mission, six blocks away and back toward the decaying industrial district.
It was for their own good -- after all, it stood to reason that they would be more comfortable in fellowship with others like themselves…
Pastor John had not invented the preemptive greeting -- it had already been in place at the Columbus Street Church for years when he arrived, and he had not even been aware of it until he saw it one Sunday when he was late to church -- but he had never challenged it. First, because his mentor had advised him that a new pastor shouldn't change anything for the first six months. After that, well, his parishioners were comfortable with it, and it even made a certain amount of sense when he heard stories from some of the other churches in town.
The people who came to church every Sunday had certain expectations, and one of them was certainly not that they would have to sit for an hour next to a junkie or a wino coming down from Saturday night, or some homeless wreck that hadn't worn clean underwear for a month.
Still, something about it bothered him once in a while. Something about it would come to visit every now and then as he tried to sleep and nibble away at his sense of ease. It was on one of those nights -- a Saturday night, no less, when he could ill afford to lie awake -- that it came to him once more. Only this time it merely announced itself with a deferential cough and lay down in the corner, quietly, until he drifted off to sleep…
The room was cramped, with braziers smoking on the walls and ceramic oil lamps placed here and there on the long, U-shaped table. He was standing near the open end, looking around, trying to take it all in and figure out where he was. There were a handful of diners reclining along either leg of the "U," and at the head of the table sat the man who was presiding over the meal -- both his location and the aura of presence that surrounded him made it obvious. There was nothing particularly striking about his features, and when he spoke the timbre of his voice was ordinary -- and yet, everyone stopped talking when he spoke; every face turned toward him, every ear was cocked to collect what he said.
John knew that because he saw it happen. The man had been in deep, hushed conversation with someone else, but nonetheless noted his presence there, caught him out of the corner of his eye, and registered him -- John was sure of that. He was still standing mute when the man looked at him, smiled, and gestured toward the table with his hand. "Come sit, John. I have a place set for you."
"But I… it looks crowded," John stammered, "I don't want to intrude."
The man looked amused as he waved one hand dismissively. "There is always room at my table for one more." Then, as though the matter was settled, he turned his attention away from John and began speaking to the man on his right once more, his voice quiet, almost murmuring. There was a faint buzz of conversation from the others then as they resumed talking among themselves -- but still, from time to time each of them would turn to look at the newcomer to see what he was doing.
"I guess I should sit down," John said, more to himself than to anyone else, and he rounded the foot of one leg of the "U," almost bumping into a servant as he entered the room, carefully balancing a tray of what looked like lamb… and as he dodged around the servant, John touched the shoulder of the first diner to steady himself. The man looked up at the touch and smiled at John -- and his mouth was like a yellowed picket fence with half the pickets knocked out at random. He said nothing, but his breath stunk of wine and beer.
John snatched his hand back and tried to figure out why that person would be there -- and then bumped into the couch of the next diner, saying "Sorry" reflexively.
A woman looked up at him, her eyes sparkling, her expression childlike. She raised a finger to her lips and whispered, "Shh. Careful now, or you'll wake Sidney." John opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again as she pointed to the ragged doll she cuddled in her lap. She was dressed in bits of this and that, castoff clothing that had evidently been mined from dumpsters where it lay next to rotting food and less mentionable things.
The next man was dressed in castoffs that mostly matched, but his face was oily and grimy, and his hands were covered in dirt as he raised one to slowly move his index finger in a circle over his temple. "Don't mind her, Bud, the light in her attic went out a long time ago." His breath was awful; the overall stench of an unbathed body in unwashed clothes was worse.
And the couch next to his was empty. John stood next to it, hesitating, his eyes taking in the scene as he realized that every diner was some variation on the theme. "I don't understand," he said under his breath.
"What's that?" the man at the head of the table asked, and all was suddenly silent again.
John hesitated, then plunged on. "I said I don't understand. I'm sorry." He swept a hand around the room. "I mean, I know what this looks like -- the lamb, the wine, the unleavened bread," he gestured toward the flat loaf of bread that sat on the table of the host, "but the rest of this doesn't make sense."
The host smiled. "What doesn't make sense, John?"
"These people," he looked down at the ones nearest him, "no offense, but what are they doing here? They're not… well, they're not very good examples, are they?"
"Examples of what? Flawed human beings? I think they are."
"There's flawed, and then there's…well, them!"
The host looked at him closely for a moment, then smiled again. "So tell me, John -- where, in the words of mine that you have studied, do I say that I have only come for certain people? Where do I say that salvation is just for those who measure up to certain standards?"
"Well, it's… you never…"
"Then who are you to decide with whom my words should be shared?" He gestured toward the table. "My table is open to all, John, even to the least of your brothers and sisters. The question is, will you take it upon yourself to turn them away -- or are you willing to show them to their place at the table and make them feel welcome?"
John had not yet answered when the room faded.
The next day, the greeters were surprised when Pastor John joined them on the steps of the church. They were even more surprised at what happened when the first homeless man approached…
Keith Hewitt is the author of two volumes of NaTiVity Dramas: Nontraditional Christmas Plays for All Ages (CSS). He is a lay speaker, co-youth leader, and former Sunday school teacher at Wilmot United Methodist Church in Wilmot, Wisconsin. He lives in southeastern Wisconsin with his wife and two children, and works in the IT department at a major public safety testing organization.
Glorifying: Making Reputation Equal to Character
by W. Lamar Massingill
John 13:31-35
We humans are a species who believe that reputation in life is many times more important than anything else. We will go to great lengths in order to preserve our reputation. We do not have to look beyond the famous people who have recently fallen into various scandals to know that. They have confessed, held press conferences, spoken to the public, made promises to do better, and invoked the Fifth Amendment -- all in an attempt to do one thing: preserve their reputations. We have seen example after example of the lengths human beings will go to in order to preserve their reputations. And this is a uniquely human action. All of us do this, not just the rich and famous. No doubt there have been times when we participated in attempts to preserve our own reputation when an individual or group has "read" us wrong. All this is to say that we value reputation. It is something that matters in human experience.
I would be quick to note, however, that reputation is not the same thing as character. They are worlds apart. More times than not, we know the reputation of people without really knowing their character. I know you have been in conversations before when the discussion turned to an individual and someone mentioned that well-worn line, "Well, he certainly has a reputation." Normally that phrase begins all kinds of negative talk that may or may not be true. Sometimes the "reputation" statement causes a very positive conversation about the great qualities of an individual. But in my experience, most of the conversations that begin with that phrase are negative.
Truth be told, we all have a reputation -- but reputations may or may not be true. A reputation is something that appears to be true, but cannot really be proven. For example, I remember a Coca-Cola commercial decades ago in which the famous Pittsburgh Steelers defensive lineman "Mean" Joe Greene received a Coke from a little boy after a rather difficult game. At first he did not appear grateful -- but as the young boy was leaving, Mean Joe Greene says "Hey kid!" and tosses the boy his jersey as a gesture of appreciation for the ice-cold drink he had received. That commercial certainly projected a reputation -- namely, that Mean Joe Greene loves kids. Then you wonder how he got the nickname "mean," and one begins to think about whether this is actually true or not. From the looks of the commercial it appeared to be true, but in actuality this trait may or may not be true.
I'm sure you, like me, have heard "reputations" about yourself that really did not reflect the "real you." When these reputations happen to be the worst of untruths it really hurts, because you know the reputation doesn't reflect your character. You desire with all your heart for somebody to come along and vindicate you and say to others that what appears to be actually isn't. If such a person comes along and does this for you, then that person has "glorified" you. That is, he has made your reputation equal to your character.
These passages in John's gospel talk about "glorifying." Jesus says to his disciples that he will be "glorified and God will be glorified in him" through the act that he is about to accomplish. Dr. John Killinger, former professor of preaching at Vanderbilt Divinity School, once said that Jesus was "God's answer to a bad reputation." Whatever could he have meant by that? The answer lies in what these passages about "glorifying" mean in John's gospel.
This is the whole issue at stake when the biblical writers used the word "glory" or any of its derivatives. The Greek word literally means to "seem to be" or to "appear to be." Generally, beginning with the first human beings, God had a bad reputation, and it was no fault of his own.
In the beginning with first humanity, God's reputation was ruined. As the record of Genesis has it, the serpent put into first humanity's mind a spirit of distrust by suggesting that God was one who did not want his authority questioned or taken over by human beings. He even suggested that human beings could be like God! Such a suggestion bred distrust in the first two humans, suggesting to them the idea that God really was afraid of human beings because they had possibility of being like him. The mistake of Adam and Eve was their choice to believe that the reputation of God the serpent gave them was an accurate reflection of his character, and out of that misunderstanding they experienced their fall from God.
In the world of Jesus, which was also the world of Judaism at its worst, God was the legalistic judge who demanded to be appeased through burnt offerings and sacrifices. It was a world in which if you were anything but a Jew, God did not love you or even care about you. If one did not keep the many legalistic rules and commandments of the law, which since Moses had grown from ten to thousands, you would never be right with God. Again, reputation did not reflect character.
Even in our modern day, God is the one people say directs them to bomb abortion clinics, to kill abortion doctors -- and in particular an abortion doctor during worship at a Lutheran church, as we witnessed a few months ago. God is one who, by the many perpetrators' own words, directs them to commit hate crimes against those of his creation who may have a different tint to their skin, a different sexual orientation, or who worship in a different way. Most terrorism such as this is of a religious nature, because a terrorist has to have the direction of a higher authority to kill a human being. As St. Augustine once said: "Evil is never so cheerfully done as when it's done behind the cloak of religion."
Here is where Killinger's statement "Jesus was God's answer to a bad reputation" comes into play. These verses in John 13 are clear: Jesus will glorify God. That is, in the person of Jesus, God's reputation would finally reflect God's true character. From that point on, if anybody would want to know God's authentic character, they must look to Jesus, because he is the one who brought God's reputation back to where his character is. In the most literal sense, Jesus "glorified" God. He changed all the misunderstandings about God that had previously existed. He expressed God in the truest sense of the word. He imaged with his life, for all people to see, those things they thought God was not: loving, generous, forgiving, selfless, free, and inclusively loving of all human beings.
This is not all there is to the action of "glorifying God." Indeed, Jesus "glorified" God by raising God's reputation to where his character is. But "glorifying God" is not just about what Jesus did. It also describes the central responsibility of anyone who trusts and follows Jesus. This is clearly seen in the exhortation of Saint Paul in 1 Corinthians: "Glorify God in your body" (6:20). Whatever we do in this body is to reflect God's character accurately; to preserve as best we can God's reputation to the extent it reflects his truth and character. We have the potency inside ourselves to reflect God's character outside ourselves to the ones we come in contact with daily.
Jesus came to show us what God is like; in fact, to change God's reputation and put it back to the high place of God's character. As Jesus is our example, it is the central issue in our Christian experience also.
W. Lamar Massingill, a former Southern Baptist pastor, is now the minister at Richton United Methodist Church in Richton, Mississippi. He also serves as religion editor for the Magnolia Gazette and as a guest columnist for the United Methodist Advocate and the Richton Dispatch. Massengill is the author of two books, New Eyes: A Spirituality of Identity Formation and Soul Places, and he has lectured widely on the interaction between religion and psychology. He is a graduate of William Carey University and New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary.
**************
StoryShare, May 2, 2010, issue.
Copyright 2010 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
Note: This installment was originally published in 2010.
We all have a fear of "the great unwashed." While there are often legitimate concerns about safety and security -- especially in inner-city parishes -- how much of our attitude is really just a product of looking down our noses at those "others," folks whose problems and mores may seem threatening to us? Are we really all that different -- or better -- than them? After all, before the Lord we are all sinners in need of forgiveness and redemption. In this week's edition of StoryShare, Keith Hewitt places this question squarely before us with his tale of a pastor's dream in which he finds himself at a table with many of these folks -- and feels every bit as much apprehension about being accepted as they do in "polite society." Then Lamar Massingill shares an intriguing meditation on the references in this week's gospel text to "glorifying," placing them in the context of the relationship -- and difference -- between "reputation" and "character."
* * * * * * * * *
The Table
by Keith Hewitt
Acts 11:1-18
They were greeters -- it said so right in the church bulletin -- but careful observation over a period of time would have shown a most curious behavior. While most who came to the church were greeted warmly, there were the others -- the ones who were unkempt, who wore clothes that had not been laundered in recent memory, who looked perpetually hungry or tired, or who argued with the voices in their head as they walked -- who received special attention from the greeters. As these souls approached the church doors, the greeters would meet them on the steps, stop them with a greeting, and then carefully point them toward the Division Street Mission, six blocks away and back toward the decaying industrial district.
It was for their own good -- after all, it stood to reason that they would be more comfortable in fellowship with others like themselves…
Pastor John had not invented the preemptive greeting -- it had already been in place at the Columbus Street Church for years when he arrived, and he had not even been aware of it until he saw it one Sunday when he was late to church -- but he had never challenged it. First, because his mentor had advised him that a new pastor shouldn't change anything for the first six months. After that, well, his parishioners were comfortable with it, and it even made a certain amount of sense when he heard stories from some of the other churches in town.
The people who came to church every Sunday had certain expectations, and one of them was certainly not that they would have to sit for an hour next to a junkie or a wino coming down from Saturday night, or some homeless wreck that hadn't worn clean underwear for a month.
Still, something about it bothered him once in a while. Something about it would come to visit every now and then as he tried to sleep and nibble away at his sense of ease. It was on one of those nights -- a Saturday night, no less, when he could ill afford to lie awake -- that it came to him once more. Only this time it merely announced itself with a deferential cough and lay down in the corner, quietly, until he drifted off to sleep…
The room was cramped, with braziers smoking on the walls and ceramic oil lamps placed here and there on the long, U-shaped table. He was standing near the open end, looking around, trying to take it all in and figure out where he was. There were a handful of diners reclining along either leg of the "U," and at the head of the table sat the man who was presiding over the meal -- both his location and the aura of presence that surrounded him made it obvious. There was nothing particularly striking about his features, and when he spoke the timbre of his voice was ordinary -- and yet, everyone stopped talking when he spoke; every face turned toward him, every ear was cocked to collect what he said.
John knew that because he saw it happen. The man had been in deep, hushed conversation with someone else, but nonetheless noted his presence there, caught him out of the corner of his eye, and registered him -- John was sure of that. He was still standing mute when the man looked at him, smiled, and gestured toward the table with his hand. "Come sit, John. I have a place set for you."
"But I… it looks crowded," John stammered, "I don't want to intrude."
The man looked amused as he waved one hand dismissively. "There is always room at my table for one more." Then, as though the matter was settled, he turned his attention away from John and began speaking to the man on his right once more, his voice quiet, almost murmuring. There was a faint buzz of conversation from the others then as they resumed talking among themselves -- but still, from time to time each of them would turn to look at the newcomer to see what he was doing.
"I guess I should sit down," John said, more to himself than to anyone else, and he rounded the foot of one leg of the "U," almost bumping into a servant as he entered the room, carefully balancing a tray of what looked like lamb… and as he dodged around the servant, John touched the shoulder of the first diner to steady himself. The man looked up at the touch and smiled at John -- and his mouth was like a yellowed picket fence with half the pickets knocked out at random. He said nothing, but his breath stunk of wine and beer.
John snatched his hand back and tried to figure out why that person would be there -- and then bumped into the couch of the next diner, saying "Sorry" reflexively.
A woman looked up at him, her eyes sparkling, her expression childlike. She raised a finger to her lips and whispered, "Shh. Careful now, or you'll wake Sidney." John opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again as she pointed to the ragged doll she cuddled in her lap. She was dressed in bits of this and that, castoff clothing that had evidently been mined from dumpsters where it lay next to rotting food and less mentionable things.
The next man was dressed in castoffs that mostly matched, but his face was oily and grimy, and his hands were covered in dirt as he raised one to slowly move his index finger in a circle over his temple. "Don't mind her, Bud, the light in her attic went out a long time ago." His breath was awful; the overall stench of an unbathed body in unwashed clothes was worse.
And the couch next to his was empty. John stood next to it, hesitating, his eyes taking in the scene as he realized that every diner was some variation on the theme. "I don't understand," he said under his breath.
"What's that?" the man at the head of the table asked, and all was suddenly silent again.
John hesitated, then plunged on. "I said I don't understand. I'm sorry." He swept a hand around the room. "I mean, I know what this looks like -- the lamb, the wine, the unleavened bread," he gestured toward the flat loaf of bread that sat on the table of the host, "but the rest of this doesn't make sense."
The host smiled. "What doesn't make sense, John?"
"These people," he looked down at the ones nearest him, "no offense, but what are they doing here? They're not… well, they're not very good examples, are they?"
"Examples of what? Flawed human beings? I think they are."
"There's flawed, and then there's…well, them!"
The host looked at him closely for a moment, then smiled again. "So tell me, John -- where, in the words of mine that you have studied, do I say that I have only come for certain people? Where do I say that salvation is just for those who measure up to certain standards?"
"Well, it's… you never…"
"Then who are you to decide with whom my words should be shared?" He gestured toward the table. "My table is open to all, John, even to the least of your brothers and sisters. The question is, will you take it upon yourself to turn them away -- or are you willing to show them to their place at the table and make them feel welcome?"
John had not yet answered when the room faded.
The next day, the greeters were surprised when Pastor John joined them on the steps of the church. They were even more surprised at what happened when the first homeless man approached…
Keith Hewitt is the author of two volumes of NaTiVity Dramas: Nontraditional Christmas Plays for All Ages (CSS). He is a lay speaker, co-youth leader, and former Sunday school teacher at Wilmot United Methodist Church in Wilmot, Wisconsin. He lives in southeastern Wisconsin with his wife and two children, and works in the IT department at a major public safety testing organization.
Glorifying: Making Reputation Equal to Character
by W. Lamar Massingill
John 13:31-35
We humans are a species who believe that reputation in life is many times more important than anything else. We will go to great lengths in order to preserve our reputation. We do not have to look beyond the famous people who have recently fallen into various scandals to know that. They have confessed, held press conferences, spoken to the public, made promises to do better, and invoked the Fifth Amendment -- all in an attempt to do one thing: preserve their reputations. We have seen example after example of the lengths human beings will go to in order to preserve their reputations. And this is a uniquely human action. All of us do this, not just the rich and famous. No doubt there have been times when we participated in attempts to preserve our own reputation when an individual or group has "read" us wrong. All this is to say that we value reputation. It is something that matters in human experience.
I would be quick to note, however, that reputation is not the same thing as character. They are worlds apart. More times than not, we know the reputation of people without really knowing their character. I know you have been in conversations before when the discussion turned to an individual and someone mentioned that well-worn line, "Well, he certainly has a reputation." Normally that phrase begins all kinds of negative talk that may or may not be true. Sometimes the "reputation" statement causes a very positive conversation about the great qualities of an individual. But in my experience, most of the conversations that begin with that phrase are negative.
Truth be told, we all have a reputation -- but reputations may or may not be true. A reputation is something that appears to be true, but cannot really be proven. For example, I remember a Coca-Cola commercial decades ago in which the famous Pittsburgh Steelers defensive lineman "Mean" Joe Greene received a Coke from a little boy after a rather difficult game. At first he did not appear grateful -- but as the young boy was leaving, Mean Joe Greene says "Hey kid!" and tosses the boy his jersey as a gesture of appreciation for the ice-cold drink he had received. That commercial certainly projected a reputation -- namely, that Mean Joe Greene loves kids. Then you wonder how he got the nickname "mean," and one begins to think about whether this is actually true or not. From the looks of the commercial it appeared to be true, but in actuality this trait may or may not be true.
I'm sure you, like me, have heard "reputations" about yourself that really did not reflect the "real you." When these reputations happen to be the worst of untruths it really hurts, because you know the reputation doesn't reflect your character. You desire with all your heart for somebody to come along and vindicate you and say to others that what appears to be actually isn't. If such a person comes along and does this for you, then that person has "glorified" you. That is, he has made your reputation equal to your character.
These passages in John's gospel talk about "glorifying." Jesus says to his disciples that he will be "glorified and God will be glorified in him" through the act that he is about to accomplish. Dr. John Killinger, former professor of preaching at Vanderbilt Divinity School, once said that Jesus was "God's answer to a bad reputation." Whatever could he have meant by that? The answer lies in what these passages about "glorifying" mean in John's gospel.
This is the whole issue at stake when the biblical writers used the word "glory" or any of its derivatives. The Greek word literally means to "seem to be" or to "appear to be." Generally, beginning with the first human beings, God had a bad reputation, and it was no fault of his own.
In the beginning with first humanity, God's reputation was ruined. As the record of Genesis has it, the serpent put into first humanity's mind a spirit of distrust by suggesting that God was one who did not want his authority questioned or taken over by human beings. He even suggested that human beings could be like God! Such a suggestion bred distrust in the first two humans, suggesting to them the idea that God really was afraid of human beings because they had possibility of being like him. The mistake of Adam and Eve was their choice to believe that the reputation of God the serpent gave them was an accurate reflection of his character, and out of that misunderstanding they experienced their fall from God.
In the world of Jesus, which was also the world of Judaism at its worst, God was the legalistic judge who demanded to be appeased through burnt offerings and sacrifices. It was a world in which if you were anything but a Jew, God did not love you or even care about you. If one did not keep the many legalistic rules and commandments of the law, which since Moses had grown from ten to thousands, you would never be right with God. Again, reputation did not reflect character.
Even in our modern day, God is the one people say directs them to bomb abortion clinics, to kill abortion doctors -- and in particular an abortion doctor during worship at a Lutheran church, as we witnessed a few months ago. God is one who, by the many perpetrators' own words, directs them to commit hate crimes against those of his creation who may have a different tint to their skin, a different sexual orientation, or who worship in a different way. Most terrorism such as this is of a religious nature, because a terrorist has to have the direction of a higher authority to kill a human being. As St. Augustine once said: "Evil is never so cheerfully done as when it's done behind the cloak of religion."
Here is where Killinger's statement "Jesus was God's answer to a bad reputation" comes into play. These verses in John 13 are clear: Jesus will glorify God. That is, in the person of Jesus, God's reputation would finally reflect God's true character. From that point on, if anybody would want to know God's authentic character, they must look to Jesus, because he is the one who brought God's reputation back to where his character is. In the most literal sense, Jesus "glorified" God. He changed all the misunderstandings about God that had previously existed. He expressed God in the truest sense of the word. He imaged with his life, for all people to see, those things they thought God was not: loving, generous, forgiving, selfless, free, and inclusively loving of all human beings.
This is not all there is to the action of "glorifying God." Indeed, Jesus "glorified" God by raising God's reputation to where his character is. But "glorifying God" is not just about what Jesus did. It also describes the central responsibility of anyone who trusts and follows Jesus. This is clearly seen in the exhortation of Saint Paul in 1 Corinthians: "Glorify God in your body" (6:20). Whatever we do in this body is to reflect God's character accurately; to preserve as best we can God's reputation to the extent it reflects his truth and character. We have the potency inside ourselves to reflect God's character outside ourselves to the ones we come in contact with daily.
Jesus came to show us what God is like; in fact, to change God's reputation and put it back to the high place of God's character. As Jesus is our example, it is the central issue in our Christian experience also.
W. Lamar Massingill, a former Southern Baptist pastor, is now the minister at Richton United Methodist Church in Richton, Mississippi. He also serves as religion editor for the Magnolia Gazette and as a guest columnist for the United Methodist Advocate and the Richton Dispatch. Massengill is the author of two books, New Eyes: A Spirituality of Identity Formation and Soul Places, and he has lectured widely on the interaction between religion and psychology. He is a graduate of William Carey University and New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary.
**************
StoryShare, May 2, 2010, issue.
Copyright 2010 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
