What Else Are We Supposed To Pray For?
Stories
Contents
"What Else Are We Supposed To Pray For?" by C. David McKirachan
"Be A Hero" by C. David McKirachan
"Our Story" by Frank Ramirez
What Else Are We Supposed To Pray For?
C. David McKirachan
Romans 8:6-11
Whenever I walk into a church building, my first instinct is to go into the sanctuary and climb into the pulpit. I hold onto it and scan the sanctuary, trying to get the feel of the place. I never noticed my habit, until I was there to have a job interview. One of the search committee members, who’d been showing me around asked me what I was interested in. I stood there, rubbing my thumb and middle finger together, “Trying to get a feel of the place.” And as I said it, I realized something was going on that would be hard to describe to a search committee, especially considering what I’d picked up. And that made me very conscious of my instinctual habit.
Then we went into the meeting and they asked me a bunch of questions and showed me pages of budget figures and attendance and demographic information, with great pride. Things were looking up. I asked about their prayer life. The response was halting. “Well, we do.”
How do we judge the health of a church? We usually count the health of a church. We count money, buns in the pew, buildings. Things of the flesh. It’s what our culture teaches. It’s at the center of most of our anxieties and joys. Or should I say satisfactions. Real joy rarely rises from bank accounts. And even the satisfactions are temporary.
When we ask for prayers from the congregation, invariably they are prayers for health and safety issues. And when we call that to peoples’ attention, we get looks of confusion and consternation. “What else are we supposed to pray for?”
In Session meetings, how often do we pray? Our job description is to be the spiritual tiller of the church. Are we? Or are we a board of directors of a non-profit corporation doing nice things and singing songs once a week? If we have the temerity to conduct Bible study and devotions, we are reminded we have a heavy docket. Or perhaps we’re the ones having the fore thought to cut down the devotions in consideration of the elders’ fatigue.
We are people of the flesh. And even in our churches do we rarely adventure beyond the issues and needs of the flesh. We are tangled in time, money, power issues, efficiency, popularity, and etc.
Looking back on my ministry, I would have done well to rub my thumb against my middle finger to test the waters before I invested, or refrained from investing in initiatives.
We are hip deep in Lent. It’s time to look at ourselves, especially at our spiritual selves. Michael Jackson said in one his songs, “If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make the change.” That’s what this season is about, taking a look and making the change.
I would recommend a journey into prayer, not asking for anything except clarity and healing for your soul. That’s where power comes from, power to offer others clarity and healing for their souls. Invite others to spend time together in silence in the sanctuary. (You might get a few that snore.) Look at Jesus’ prayer life. Consider what it means to build your ministry on the Holy Spirit. If there’s a time for silence in your worship, let it go for a minute. (I instructed lay leaders to count to 30, slowly. It’s a beginning.) If there is no time for silence, consider it. Preach on our need of the spiritual gifts and how to be open for them. Be in dialogue with the congregation and with the Holy Spirit.
I hate how to books and I’m beginning to sound like one. But this was my struggle and in many ways my salvation. Funny about that.
By the way, I didn’t take the job. The numbers were right, but there was something… something more important, missing. I felt a bit of a tug about that. Maybe I should have gone further into it. It worked for Job. But I’m just not a numbers kind of guy.
* * *
Be A Hero
by C. David McKirachan
John 11:1-45
The plague is upon us. A rather dramatic description of our present tense. But our social situation reminds me of my father’s descriptions of the flu epidemic in the early 1900s, coffins piled on Philadelphia street corners with names scrawled on the lids in charcoal, waiting for the wagons to take them to mass graves. It’s not that bad, and hopefully it won’t be, but our lives are overturned. Our economy is shaken. Our social institutions are disrupted. And the threat is looming, “It will get worse before it gets better.”
The is a disease, a virus. Our medical technology struggles against these constantly. We have more control than our ancestors did, surely more than Mary and Martha and Lazarus did. But we still fear our mortality, whether it be a global epidemic or getting hit by a bus.
It’s easy to sense this fear in the language of our leaders, “Everything’s fine.” “We’ve got it covered.” They fear the loss of control more than any virus. But there behind it all is death, waiting to claim the most courageous and popular and powerful.
Death is not a disease to be cured. It can be avoided. It can be delayed. We may one day find a treatment that will stave off aging. (I wouldn’t mind being flexible again.) But even the sun will burn out one day. It seems our context for living is limited.
Having a Lord who beat the game, who transcended the limits is really nice. But that’s not what this is about. Jesus was troubled, deeply troubled, shaken to the roots of his humanity. He wept. Resurrection is about victory. It is about transcendence. It is about God blasting down the wall of mortality. This is not about resurrection. This is about death, the dark burden that humanity carries through its life. Jesus was facing the end of all that he loved. These were his friends. They had welcomed him into their home. He had found a rest along the way, a sanctuary from the pushes and shoves, the demands and expectations that were driving him relentlessly toward the inevitable. Even they were vulnerable. Even they could not be protected from the beast.
But Jesus did not live in denial. He did not come up with easy answers or palliative explanations. He went to the grave and told them to open it. He faced their loss and his loss squarely. And he faced what was coming, refusing to duck, refusing to deny the power of this horror that stalked them and him. “Open the grave.”
John understood this moment with the perception of inspiration. “But Lord, it has been three days, the body will stink.” It does. Animals shrink from death. We all do. Jesus did not. He was a human being who did not shy from death.
Heroes are not fearless. Heroes are afraid. They just keep on going. Jesus saw and knew and felt the crushing weight of death’s darkness and he just kept on going. He was a hero.
We are not called to act without fear. We are human, at least I am. And probably you are too. We are afraid. We are afraid of losing all the people and contexts of life that we treasure. If we are honest, that truth cannot be denied, unless we are liars or fools. But we are called to be heroes. We are called to follow our Lord into the dark places, where our fears and the suffering of others stink with death, powerlessness, loss, and limitation. We are not called to deny the pain of life. To do so denies the suffering that surrounds us. And it denies the price that our Lord paid so that we can see the way to go.
In this, the darkness of Lent, as we journey with Jesus toward his cross and in the darkness of the plague with all the difficulty that seems to be surrounding us, follow him. Proclaim the truth in love. Be A Hero.
In life and in death we belong to God.
* * *
Our Story
by Frank Ramirez
Ezekiel 37:1-14
The hand of the LORD came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. (Ezekiel 37:1-2)
Animals the size of monsters, huge in proportion to their human hunters. Human hunters who seem to be part reptile, or part crocodile, or part buffalo. What is this? A storyboard for a superhero movie?
No. They’re newly discovered ancient cave drawings, far older than anything previously discovered! They seem to tell a story that is drawn out of the natural everyday world of the hunter/gatherers — yet combined with elements of myth and legend, telling a tall tale about beings that never existed, yet in a way are truly what we might imagine ourselves to be.
Think about it. Don’t our sports teams representing our high schools, colleges, and cities depict themselves sometimes as familiar animals, transformed into beings that can carry footballs or swing at baseballs? Don’t we as children imagine ourselves as fantastic creatures?
The drawings are intriguing because not only are they ancient, but they are found in a difficult to access cave on the Indonesian island named Sulawesi. People often associate ancient human art with Europeans, because of some famous cave paintings found in France, but the urge to create art and tell stories was probably universal among humans across the globe.
Even more intriguing is the age of the drawings, perhaps 44,000 years ago, more than twice as old as the previously oldest known cave drawings. This work of imagination, this amazing story, as far as it can be understood, changes the way we think about people.
Now the people who imagined a story about hunters who shared attributes with the animals they stalked also imagined animals far bigger than any they would have known. One of the Australian archaeologists, Adam Brumm, working in concert with Indonesian scientists on the site said, “I’ve never seen anything like this before. I mean, we’ve seen hundreds of rock art sites in this region, but we’ve never seen anything like a hunting scene.”
There’s certainly some contention about what the scene depicts, as well as what it means, or even if the various figures were drawn at the same time or hundreds or even thousands of years apart. Calcite which has formed near the painting is allowing fairly accurate, but not always uncontroversial dating.
Brumm admitted, “We don’t know what it means, but it seems to be about hunting and it seems to maybe have mythological or supernatural connotations.”
Mythological, in this context, doesn’t mean the story isn’t true, but that the story is true in a deeply symbolic way, saying something about the way the universe works.
These ancient people are telling an important story we don’t fully understand, but we do know this was a very important message, and it’s worth listening to. Their story comes to life because the artwork is vivid.
Now in today’s scripture from the Old Testament, the prophet Ezekiel also told a very important, mysterious, and vivid story with a message vital for us to know. Ezekiel created a work of art that continues to intrigue, to inspire song, and to bring to life emotions that run the gamut from horror to relief to joy.
He doesn’t use paint to tell his story, but words. Some of the images are horrifying. There is a valley filled with bones, and they are very dry bones, yet they achieve a sort of half-life when the muscles and sinew and flesh are knitted once more upon bones coming together. But only the breath of God, the Spirit of God, can truly animate these bones, bringing everyone back to life. Here Ezekiel is not telling a story about the lives of hunters long ago. Ezekiel is telling our story!
*****************************************
StoryShare, March 29, 2020, issue.
Copyright 2020 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.
"What Else Are We Supposed To Pray For?" by C. David McKirachan
"Be A Hero" by C. David McKirachan
"Our Story" by Frank Ramirez
What Else Are We Supposed To Pray For?
C. David McKirachan
Romans 8:6-11
Whenever I walk into a church building, my first instinct is to go into the sanctuary and climb into the pulpit. I hold onto it and scan the sanctuary, trying to get the feel of the place. I never noticed my habit, until I was there to have a job interview. One of the search committee members, who’d been showing me around asked me what I was interested in. I stood there, rubbing my thumb and middle finger together, “Trying to get a feel of the place.” And as I said it, I realized something was going on that would be hard to describe to a search committee, especially considering what I’d picked up. And that made me very conscious of my instinctual habit.
Then we went into the meeting and they asked me a bunch of questions and showed me pages of budget figures and attendance and demographic information, with great pride. Things were looking up. I asked about their prayer life. The response was halting. “Well, we do.”
How do we judge the health of a church? We usually count the health of a church. We count money, buns in the pew, buildings. Things of the flesh. It’s what our culture teaches. It’s at the center of most of our anxieties and joys. Or should I say satisfactions. Real joy rarely rises from bank accounts. And even the satisfactions are temporary.
When we ask for prayers from the congregation, invariably they are prayers for health and safety issues. And when we call that to peoples’ attention, we get looks of confusion and consternation. “What else are we supposed to pray for?”
In Session meetings, how often do we pray? Our job description is to be the spiritual tiller of the church. Are we? Or are we a board of directors of a non-profit corporation doing nice things and singing songs once a week? If we have the temerity to conduct Bible study and devotions, we are reminded we have a heavy docket. Or perhaps we’re the ones having the fore thought to cut down the devotions in consideration of the elders’ fatigue.
We are people of the flesh. And even in our churches do we rarely adventure beyond the issues and needs of the flesh. We are tangled in time, money, power issues, efficiency, popularity, and etc.
Looking back on my ministry, I would have done well to rub my thumb against my middle finger to test the waters before I invested, or refrained from investing in initiatives.
We are hip deep in Lent. It’s time to look at ourselves, especially at our spiritual selves. Michael Jackson said in one his songs, “If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make the change.” That’s what this season is about, taking a look and making the change.
I would recommend a journey into prayer, not asking for anything except clarity and healing for your soul. That’s where power comes from, power to offer others clarity and healing for their souls. Invite others to spend time together in silence in the sanctuary. (You might get a few that snore.) Look at Jesus’ prayer life. Consider what it means to build your ministry on the Holy Spirit. If there’s a time for silence in your worship, let it go for a minute. (I instructed lay leaders to count to 30, slowly. It’s a beginning.) If there is no time for silence, consider it. Preach on our need of the spiritual gifts and how to be open for them. Be in dialogue with the congregation and with the Holy Spirit.
I hate how to books and I’m beginning to sound like one. But this was my struggle and in many ways my salvation. Funny about that.
By the way, I didn’t take the job. The numbers were right, but there was something… something more important, missing. I felt a bit of a tug about that. Maybe I should have gone further into it. It worked for Job. But I’m just not a numbers kind of guy.
* * *
Be A Hero
by C. David McKirachan
John 11:1-45
The plague is upon us. A rather dramatic description of our present tense. But our social situation reminds me of my father’s descriptions of the flu epidemic in the early 1900s, coffins piled on Philadelphia street corners with names scrawled on the lids in charcoal, waiting for the wagons to take them to mass graves. It’s not that bad, and hopefully it won’t be, but our lives are overturned. Our economy is shaken. Our social institutions are disrupted. And the threat is looming, “It will get worse before it gets better.”
The is a disease, a virus. Our medical technology struggles against these constantly. We have more control than our ancestors did, surely more than Mary and Martha and Lazarus did. But we still fear our mortality, whether it be a global epidemic or getting hit by a bus.
It’s easy to sense this fear in the language of our leaders, “Everything’s fine.” “We’ve got it covered.” They fear the loss of control more than any virus. But there behind it all is death, waiting to claim the most courageous and popular and powerful.
Death is not a disease to be cured. It can be avoided. It can be delayed. We may one day find a treatment that will stave off aging. (I wouldn’t mind being flexible again.) But even the sun will burn out one day. It seems our context for living is limited.
Having a Lord who beat the game, who transcended the limits is really nice. But that’s not what this is about. Jesus was troubled, deeply troubled, shaken to the roots of his humanity. He wept. Resurrection is about victory. It is about transcendence. It is about God blasting down the wall of mortality. This is not about resurrection. This is about death, the dark burden that humanity carries through its life. Jesus was facing the end of all that he loved. These were his friends. They had welcomed him into their home. He had found a rest along the way, a sanctuary from the pushes and shoves, the demands and expectations that were driving him relentlessly toward the inevitable. Even they were vulnerable. Even they could not be protected from the beast.
But Jesus did not live in denial. He did not come up with easy answers or palliative explanations. He went to the grave and told them to open it. He faced their loss and his loss squarely. And he faced what was coming, refusing to duck, refusing to deny the power of this horror that stalked them and him. “Open the grave.”
John understood this moment with the perception of inspiration. “But Lord, it has been three days, the body will stink.” It does. Animals shrink from death. We all do. Jesus did not. He was a human being who did not shy from death.
Heroes are not fearless. Heroes are afraid. They just keep on going. Jesus saw and knew and felt the crushing weight of death’s darkness and he just kept on going. He was a hero.
We are not called to act without fear. We are human, at least I am. And probably you are too. We are afraid. We are afraid of losing all the people and contexts of life that we treasure. If we are honest, that truth cannot be denied, unless we are liars or fools. But we are called to be heroes. We are called to follow our Lord into the dark places, where our fears and the suffering of others stink with death, powerlessness, loss, and limitation. We are not called to deny the pain of life. To do so denies the suffering that surrounds us. And it denies the price that our Lord paid so that we can see the way to go.
In this, the darkness of Lent, as we journey with Jesus toward his cross and in the darkness of the plague with all the difficulty that seems to be surrounding us, follow him. Proclaim the truth in love. Be A Hero.
In life and in death we belong to God.
* * *
Our Story
by Frank Ramirez
Ezekiel 37:1-14
The hand of the LORD came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. (Ezekiel 37:1-2)
Animals the size of monsters, huge in proportion to their human hunters. Human hunters who seem to be part reptile, or part crocodile, or part buffalo. What is this? A storyboard for a superhero movie?
No. They’re newly discovered ancient cave drawings, far older than anything previously discovered! They seem to tell a story that is drawn out of the natural everyday world of the hunter/gatherers — yet combined with elements of myth and legend, telling a tall tale about beings that never existed, yet in a way are truly what we might imagine ourselves to be.
Think about it. Don’t our sports teams representing our high schools, colleges, and cities depict themselves sometimes as familiar animals, transformed into beings that can carry footballs or swing at baseballs? Don’t we as children imagine ourselves as fantastic creatures?
The drawings are intriguing because not only are they ancient, but they are found in a difficult to access cave on the Indonesian island named Sulawesi. People often associate ancient human art with Europeans, because of some famous cave paintings found in France, but the urge to create art and tell stories was probably universal among humans across the globe.
Even more intriguing is the age of the drawings, perhaps 44,000 years ago, more than twice as old as the previously oldest known cave drawings. This work of imagination, this amazing story, as far as it can be understood, changes the way we think about people.
Now the people who imagined a story about hunters who shared attributes with the animals they stalked also imagined animals far bigger than any they would have known. One of the Australian archaeologists, Adam Brumm, working in concert with Indonesian scientists on the site said, “I’ve never seen anything like this before. I mean, we’ve seen hundreds of rock art sites in this region, but we’ve never seen anything like a hunting scene.”
There’s certainly some contention about what the scene depicts, as well as what it means, or even if the various figures were drawn at the same time or hundreds or even thousands of years apart. Calcite which has formed near the painting is allowing fairly accurate, but not always uncontroversial dating.
Brumm admitted, “We don’t know what it means, but it seems to be about hunting and it seems to maybe have mythological or supernatural connotations.”
Mythological, in this context, doesn’t mean the story isn’t true, but that the story is true in a deeply symbolic way, saying something about the way the universe works.
These ancient people are telling an important story we don’t fully understand, but we do know this was a very important message, and it’s worth listening to. Their story comes to life because the artwork is vivid.
Now in today’s scripture from the Old Testament, the prophet Ezekiel also told a very important, mysterious, and vivid story with a message vital for us to know. Ezekiel created a work of art that continues to intrigue, to inspire song, and to bring to life emotions that run the gamut from horror to relief to joy.
He doesn’t use paint to tell his story, but words. Some of the images are horrifying. There is a valley filled with bones, and they are very dry bones, yet they achieve a sort of half-life when the muscles and sinew and flesh are knitted once more upon bones coming together. But only the breath of God, the Spirit of God, can truly animate these bones, bringing everyone back to life. Here Ezekiel is not telling a story about the lives of hunters long ago. Ezekiel is telling our story!
*****************************************
StoryShare, March 29, 2020, issue.
Copyright 2020 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.
