"V.D.M." These were the odd initials that followed the name of our beloved New Testament teacher on the order of service at his memorial. It read "Lloyd Gaston, V.D.M". No indication was made of Lloyd's distinguished career as an academic. None of his advanced degrees were listed, not even the PhD earned under the tutelage of Karl Barth. All that indicated anything of his vocation was the acronym "V.D.M."
During the service Lloyd's friend and colleague Jim Linderberger noted that this designation had been Lloyd's desire. It reflected a long tradition among Protestant pastors and Catholic priests in Europe where it is commonly seen on the gravestones of clergy. In the absence of any other indication one knows immediately the life calling and work of those whose lives are subsumed in the three letters V.D.M. It signifies the Latin phrase "Verbi Dei Minister" - "Servant of the Word of God". As Jim told us this about Lloyd I remember a shock of recognition: "Yes, that names Lloyd's life ... and it also names mine".
7/11/11
7/9/11
sit down, Master, on this rude chair
a prayer for the week ...
Sit down, Master, on this rude chair of praises, and rule my nervous heart with your great decrees of freedom. Out of time you have taken me to do my daily task. Out of mist and dust you have fashioned me to know the numberless worlds between the crown and the kingdom. In utter defeat I came to you and you received me with a sweetness I had not dared to remember. Tonight I come to you again, soiled by strategies and trapped in the loneliness of my tiny domain. Establish your law in this walled place. Let nine men come to lift me into their prayer so that I may whisper with them: Blessed be the name of the glory of the kingdom for ever and ever.
- Leonard Cohen, from "Book of Mercy", 1984
Sit down, Master, on this rude chair of praises, and rule my nervous heart with your great decrees of freedom. Out of time you have taken me to do my daily task. Out of mist and dust you have fashioned me to know the numberless worlds between the crown and the kingdom. In utter defeat I came to you and you received me with a sweetness I had not dared to remember. Tonight I come to you again, soiled by strategies and trapped in the loneliness of my tiny domain. Establish your law in this walled place. Let nine men come to lift me into their prayer so that I may whisper with them: Blessed be the name of the glory of the kingdom for ever and ever.
- Leonard Cohen, from "Book of Mercy", 1984
7/6/11
the soul is like a wild animal
a quote for the week ...
"How we are to listen to our lives is a question worth exploring. In our culture, we tend to gather information in ways that do not work very well when the source is the human soul: the soul is not responsive to subpoenas or cross-examinations. At best it will stand in the dock only long enough to plead the Fifth Amendment. At worst it will jump bail and never be heard from again. The soul speaks its truth only under quiet, inviting, and trustworthy conditions. The soul is like a wild animal - tough, resilient, savvy, self-sufficient, and yet exceedingly shy. If we want to see a wild animal, the last thing we should do is to go crashing through the woods, shouting for the creature to come out. But if we are willing to walk quietly into the woods and sit silently for an hour or two at the base of a tree, the creature we are waiting for may well emerge, and out of the corner of an eye we will catch a glimpse of the precious wildness we seek."
- Parker Palmer from "Let Your Life Speak", pp. 8-9
"How we are to listen to our lives is a question worth exploring. In our culture, we tend to gather information in ways that do not work very well when the source is the human soul: the soul is not responsive to subpoenas or cross-examinations. At best it will stand in the dock only long enough to plead the Fifth Amendment. At worst it will jump bail and never be heard from again. The soul speaks its truth only under quiet, inviting, and trustworthy conditions. The soul is like a wild animal - tough, resilient, savvy, self-sufficient, and yet exceedingly shy. If we want to see a wild animal, the last thing we should do is to go crashing through the woods, shouting for the creature to come out. But if we are willing to walk quietly into the woods and sit silently for an hour or two at the base of a tree, the creature we are waiting for may well emerge, and out of the corner of an eye we will catch a glimpse of the precious wildness we seek."
- Parker Palmer from "Let Your Life Speak", pp. 8-9
7/5/11
lay your burden down
A new rhythm has emerged on Sundays. And, to my surprise, it feels right. It is a surprise because I never would have imagined that hosting a Bible conversation in my office for an hour right before worship would not interfere with preparation for worship and preaching. Instead, it is so obviously the needful thing for me and for us. Looking back, I am not sure that I was ready for this much earlier in my ministry. But I am now.
I arrive early. I wander over to the Chapel of the Epiphany and spend some time arranging the chairs a little here, a little there. I feel like a host getting set for guests who are coming for dinner. I like to be sure that everything is ready. That's done by eight in the morning. Then I go back across the street to the building where I have an office. I get the coffee on and the hot water for tea. I put out the dough-nuts that I bought at the Tim Horton's drive through on my way into town. Then I read the scripture that we'll be hosting in our conversation and in the sermon. At nine I hear the elevator open and people arrive. We number four or five or six or seven. There are the regulars. And there are often drop-ins, sometimes guests from out of town. We get coffee and tea and dough-nuts. We greet. We pray. Sometimes there is important news to share. Then we pick up one of a number of translations of the Bible that are on the round coffee table in front of us and we read the text for the day. Then we wonder about it. We wrestle with it. We laugh about it. We imagine what our world looks like when seen through this script. I test some directions that I imagine the sermon might go. It feels like the warm up sessions that African American preachers often have with the deacons in the minister's study before worship. It feels like a musician practicing scales and chord progressions in order to be ready to play. At five to ten we pray. At ten I leave the group to clean up the office and I walk to the Chapel. The hour has flown by. I have not had time to get nervous. Worship begins at 10:30. Just time to go and look for newcomers and visitors who have arrived early. Then time to meet and pray with the worship team.
I arrive early. I wander over to the Chapel of the Epiphany and spend some time arranging the chairs a little here, a little there. I feel like a host getting set for guests who are coming for dinner. I like to be sure that everything is ready. That's done by eight in the morning. Then I go back across the street to the building where I have an office. I get the coffee on and the hot water for tea. I put out the dough-nuts that I bought at the Tim Horton's drive through on my way into town. Then I read the scripture that we'll be hosting in our conversation and in the sermon. At nine I hear the elevator open and people arrive. We number four or five or six or seven. There are the regulars. And there are often drop-ins, sometimes guests from out of town. We get coffee and tea and dough-nuts. We greet. We pray. Sometimes there is important news to share. Then we pick up one of a number of translations of the Bible that are on the round coffee table in front of us and we read the text for the day. Then we wonder about it. We wrestle with it. We laugh about it. We imagine what our world looks like when seen through this script. I test some directions that I imagine the sermon might go. It feels like the warm up sessions that African American preachers often have with the deacons in the minister's study before worship. It feels like a musician practicing scales and chord progressions in order to be ready to play. At five to ten we pray. At ten I leave the group to clean up the office and I walk to the Chapel. The hour has flown by. I have not had time to get nervous. Worship begins at 10:30. Just time to go and look for newcomers and visitors who have arrived early. Then time to meet and pray with the worship team.
7/3/11
You live at the hinge
a prayer for the week ...
You brood in the night in its fearfulness,
You dawn the day in its energy,
You move at the edge of night
into the margin of day.
You take the feeble night and give us strong day,
You take our fatigue and bestow courage,
You take our drowsy reluctance and fashion full-blooded zeal.
What shall we say?
You, only you, you
You at the hinge - and then the day.
You - and then us,
from you in faithfulness,
us for the day,
us in the freedom and courage and energy,
and then back to you - in trust and gratitude.
Amen.
- by Walter Brueggemann, from "Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth", 2003, p.5.
6/29/11
you have to die to enter a vocation
a quote for the week ...
"Theologically, what distinguishes a vocation from the rigors of a profession is this: you have to die to enter a vocation. A profession summons the best from you. A vocation calls you away from what you thought was best in you, purifies it, and promises to make you something or someone you are not yet."
- Richard Lischer from "The End of Words", 2005, p. 30
"Theologically, what distinguishes a vocation from the rigors of a profession is this: you have to die to enter a vocation. A profession summons the best from you. A vocation calls you away from what you thought was best in you, purifies it, and promises to make you something or someone you are not yet."
- Richard Lischer from "The End of Words", 2005, p. 30
6/28/11
preaching from the kingdom side
Something has happened to the preaching moment we share at University Hill Congregation. In truth, it has been happening over a long period of time. Yet something quite extraordinary seems to be happening as a result of the news that the preacher has an incurable cancer. I am trying to make sense of all of this. It is early days. But the last few Sundays have been different. There is more energy. More energy in the preacher. More energy in the congregation. And not just any energy. Kingdom energy. Gospel energy. Ache is here. Truth is here. There is both grief and gratitude. There is a living word that is almost palpable. It is easy for me to receive during the week. It is almost as if the texts are plugged in to a high voltage line. I do not find it difficult to hear what the text is speaking to us directly. It might be difficult to put into words. It might be hard to say. But it is not difficult to know what needs to be said. The Word from God seems strong.
I am wondering what it is about this new situation that has made the preaching feel so electric. I am not alone in this. Many in the congregation notice that we are participating in something we have not known in quite this way before. Some of the ingredients in this mix seem clear to me.
I am wondering what it is about this new situation that has made the preaching feel so electric. I am not alone in this. Many in the congregation notice that we are participating in something we have not known in quite this way before. Some of the ingredients in this mix seem clear to me.
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