Where Have All The Churches Gone?
Stories
Contents
What's Up This Week
"Where Have All the Churches Gone?" by John Smylie
"Caught Not Taught" by John Smylie
"Oh, Mulberries!" by David Bales
Note: This installment was originally published in 2007.
* * * * * * * * *
Where Have All the Churches Gone?
By John Smylie
Lamentations 1:1-6
Several years ago I had an opportunity to visit Turkey. It was a clergy familiarization tour, an opportunity to visit a part of Christian history. Of course, it was also a marketing ploy by the tour company, the hope was that those of us who went along would lead groups from our congregations on future pilgrimages.
One of the pilgrims in our group was definitely hooked on the book of Revelation. He was somewhat of a literalist and was preparing himself and his congregation for the end times. Throughout the pilgrimage, he was encouraging us to make stops at the several locations in Turkey where some of the churches mentioned in the book of Revelation are located. If my memory serves me correctly, we went to a couple of those old churches. Both of the churches were in ruins. Neither of them had active participation, there were no Christians worshiping there and both churches were in primarily Muslim-controlled areas.
It doesn't take a whole lot of imagination to see that Christianity is becoming extinct in some of the areas where it originated. It makes one wonder what our Lord is trying to teach us. Israel, the birthplace of our faith, is populated by 1% or less of Christians. Christianity in Europe has been fading, particularly over the last several decades. Christianity in our own country may in fact be increasingly challenged -- challenged because they are often more reflections of the culture than of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Sometimes it appears that Christianity just doesn't age very well. Rather than seeking to discover what it was about our early days that energized and empowered us as a people of faith, it could be we tend to turn an encounter with the living God in to a formalized powerless ritual experience. I've always liked the idea that God doesn't have any grandchildren -- only sons and daughters.
Counselors will tell us that the first blush of love might last for a year-and-a-half to two years. During that first blush of love, the couple behaves in strange ways. It's almost as if the man and the woman caught up in the exuberance of the beating of their hearts somehow mask the true nature of who they are. One of the songs that I think displays this sentiment has the line, "You don't bring me flowers anymore." Of course, the assumption in the song is that at the beginning of their relationship flowers were brought on a regular basis. Over time, the flowers stop coming. The flowers symbolize a kind of thoughtfulness and effort that went into making the love bright and exuberant. The flowers represent a kind of passion that made the steps of the lovers light and the work of love joyful. For love to grow beyond the first blush, beyond a year-and-a-half to two years of exuberance, effort will need to be applied. Discoveries need to be made, the relationship will deepen or it will become shallower. The experience of knowing the other will continue to enrich the heart and soul as one discovers new mysteries in the relationship, or the relationship will become a source of bitterness and frustration, a place of disappointment and resentments.
A relationship with God -- even religion -- is a lot like this. Either our faith will grow beyond the first blush of knowing our Lord and deepen into a daily exploration of the wonders of the Almighty, or it will become a tradition, a sideshow, an increasingly lifeless form that becomes more of a duty then a delight.
At a wedding ceremony, every guest in attendance is asked if they will support the couple in their life together. Usually all in attendance will offer a resounding, "We Will!" The same is true in baptism as the congregation welcomes the new Christian into the fellowship and makes promises to support this newborn in the faith in their journey of resisting evil and respecting the dignity of every human being, as they enter the fellowship and join in prayer and seek to reflect the person of Christ throughout their life.
Where have all the churches gone -- those churches in the book of Revelation -- the early congregations that were present throughout Israel, the mostly empty cathedrals throughout Europe? Perhaps it's time for the church to come alive again as believers offer themselves, their bodies, their whole being, to reflecting the life and ministry of our Lord. We are the place of his presence. I suppose we need to ask, is God recognizable within us?
* * *
Caught Not Taught
By John Smylie
2 Timothy 1:1-14
I love the reference to Timothy's family. One can imagine Timothy sitting in his one-room home watching his grandmother pray. Perhaps as a child he heard the prayers not only of his grandmother but of his mother as they prayed for him, for members of their community, for folks in their family and for the world. If Timothy was like every other little boy when he was growing up, out playing with his friends and then coming home after doing a few chores and perhaps making a bit of income for the family, one can imagine coming home for him was like coming into holy space. His home was filled with an invitation to the Almighty God to be present.
Perhaps for Timothy, faith was caught not taught. I suspect, as a young child, he did spend some time in study with his elders but I suspect even more their faith, the faith of his grandmother and mother was an ever-present and shining example to him. Something in them attracted him, and one can only imagine that he wanted to have the light that he saw present in them in his own life.
When I first became interested in healing ministry, I heard about a healing mission coming to our home church. It was at a time in my life when I didn't spend a lot of time at church but I did believe that God was a God who was powerful. Sometimes churches to me did not seem like places where God was present but rather little communities that were caught up with the bitter struggles, petty infighting, and very often filled with mean-spirited people. Later I would learn that churches are hospitals for sinners, not museums for saints -- so I suppose it was good that those folks with all their struggles allowed themselves to be under the influence of the good news of Jesus Christ.
In any case, I was excited by the neighborhood church offering a healing mission to the community. I decided I would go. The man who led the experience, the healing mission, was the international warden of the Healing Order of St. Luke the Physician. His name was John Park. I guess if I was to look at that language now -- the warden -- I might wonder if it was a prison ministry. In fact it was a ministry that sought to set people free from physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual ailments.
John looked like my image of a kung fu master. He had a bald head and a chiseled face. His spirit was soft and gentle and yet when he laid his hands upon anyone the power coming through them was strong and tangible. The strength of Christ within him contrasted against his own deeply humble spirit, and I found myself wanting to be like him. This was clearly an example of faith being caught not taught. Here in front of me was a man who believed in the power of God, and allowed himself to be a channel of the same. How blessed we are when we have examples in our life -- people -- who reflect to us the height and depth and breadth of God. How blessed we are when the sound teaching of our Lord is not only spoken but demonstrated by a life that is dedicated and possessed by the passion of Christ and the presence of the Holy Spirit.
How blessed we are when there are those around us who radiate the love of Christ -- John Park was one of those teachers for me and I find myself still desiring to catch a hold of the goodness and power of the Lord that was so present within him. Sometimes we may not be aware of the gifts we have -- particularly the gift of presence -- the Lord's presence within us. Pray that we will be faithful grandmothers and grandfathers, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, pray that we will all be faithful children of our Lord and reflections of the power and presence of Jesus Christ.
John S. Smylie is the rector of St. Mark's Episcopal Church in Casper, Wyoming. Previously he served as the dean of the Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist in Spokane, Washington. He is a published author and storyteller as well as a singer-songwriter. Smylie recently completed Grace for Today, a collection of 25 stories that explores how grace, loss, and restoration are part of the same fabric.
* * *
Oh, Mulberries!
By David O. Bales
Luke 17:5-10
"Listen to this," Dan said as he rushed into Julie's sewing room. "The Bible mentions mulberries in First Maccabees. It was used to drive elephants wild enough to fight."
Julie didn't look up from her work. She shook her head and answered in a monotone, "I think you're taking this too far."
"No. Listen Jule." Dan read to her from his book, "The unripe fruit can cause hallucinations as well as physical sickness."
Julie slowly lifted the fabric from her lap, set it onto the table, and shook her head again. She spoke with a little more force, "You're letting this get to you. And I really don't think a Bible dictionary is the place to look for mulberry help."
Dan slammed his Bible dictionary shut and started down the hall. "You might like to learn that a mulberry has catkins. You can work that into conversation with your associates at the firm."
The mulberry tree had only become a problem after summer arrived. Dan and Julie had moved into their new home the September before. All the neighbors came to greet them except the neighbors who lived directly behind them. An eight-foot high fence separated the two properties. The mulberry tree grew in Dan and Julie's yard, but the foliage spread far over both sides of the fence.
When spring arrived, the tree provided perfect shade on Dan and Julie's patio. However, by late June the mulberry tree was dropping its bland fruit like little purple bombs and staining the patio. Obviously, the fruit also fell on the neighbors' side. Dan and Julie arrived home a week ago to find their tree "trimmed" straight up the property line on the neighbors' side. It had begun to lean toward Dan and Julie's house and by morning two large branches had snapped; one had broken completely and landed on their roof.
Dan had been late for work that morning as he quickly hacked out limbs that seemed most in danger of breaking or damaging the house. Later that week they hired a tree surgeon to trim it as best he could. After two hours' work the man said, "There's not much hope. I left as much as I could," he slapped his hand against the tree trunk, "but, when a tree's been cut that lop-sided and sprung the root ball, if it doesn't die immediately, it's usually so weakened that disease sets in."
When the tree surgeon had left, the two stood looking up at their denuded tree -- Dan's hands on his hips, jaw tight. "It was on their side," Julie said. "They had every right to cut it."
"If they'd talked to us about it," Dan fumed. "We would have agreed that it messed up their patio, and I'd have helped them and trimmed our side as they cut theirs so it wouldn't tear the roots up."
"We're going to have to forgive them," Julie said. "We can't let a tree lead us to hate others. Are you listening?"
Dan was running his hand up the trunk, rubbing his finger into the tears that the surgeon had sprayed full of tar, "Yeah, yeah," he said.
"We've got to drop it. It's not as though we've been personally attacked or something. We've got to deal with this as Christians."
"Okay, okay," he said, as he stood near the trunk looking up through the limbs. Julie had left him to his inspecting.
Now, Dan had decided to learn about mulberry trees and even to see what the Bible might say about them. Julie came out of her sewing room and followed him down the hall, "You're trying to use the Bible like a weapon."
"Sure, sure," he said as he went outside, carrying the encyclopedia's M volume to read under the remains of his tree.
An hour later Dan had the encyclopedia and Bible dictionary open beside him, as he stared at the denuded tree. Julie came out with a glass of lemonade in one hand. She held a Bible in the other. "I did a little research myself," she said.
Dan looked from the tree to her face and then to the book in her hand. "What?"
She handed him the glass. "I think you should look carefully at what Jesus said about mulberries. I want you to read. There," she said as she handed the Bible to him and pointed. "Go on and read through verse ten."
A breeze rustled the mulberry tree and folded a page of the Bible over Dan's hand. He set down the lemonade and held the page down to read it. Julie could tell he was reading carefully, because his lips were moving. He stopped reading, sipped from the glass, then closed the Bible.
"Does that make sense?" Julie said.
"Not perfect," Dan said, "Doesn't exactly fit our case."
"No, not exactly, but it's not case law."
"And, I guess slaves don't have to like what they're told to do. Don't even have to understand everything. Just do it."
"Yep," Julie said, "I always told you that you'd make a worthless slave."
"I give up," Dan looked at the tree sadly. "But do you suppose," he gave a half smile. "Do you suppose Jesus meant the whole mulberry tree? You know what that would do to the roots?"
David O. Bales is a retired Presbyterian minister and a freelance writer and editor for Stephen Ministries and Tebunah Ministries. He is the author of Gospel Subplots: Story Sermons of God's Grace and is a contributing author to Sermons on the Second Readings (Series II, Cycle A).
**************
StoryShare, October 7, 2007, issue.
Copyright 2007 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., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
What's Up This Week
"Where Have All the Churches Gone?" by John Smylie
"Caught Not Taught" by John Smylie
"Oh, Mulberries!" by David Bales
Note: This installment was originally published in 2007.
* * * * * * * * *
Where Have All the Churches Gone?
By John Smylie
Lamentations 1:1-6
Several years ago I had an opportunity to visit Turkey. It was a clergy familiarization tour, an opportunity to visit a part of Christian history. Of course, it was also a marketing ploy by the tour company, the hope was that those of us who went along would lead groups from our congregations on future pilgrimages.
One of the pilgrims in our group was definitely hooked on the book of Revelation. He was somewhat of a literalist and was preparing himself and his congregation for the end times. Throughout the pilgrimage, he was encouraging us to make stops at the several locations in Turkey where some of the churches mentioned in the book of Revelation are located. If my memory serves me correctly, we went to a couple of those old churches. Both of the churches were in ruins. Neither of them had active participation, there were no Christians worshiping there and both churches were in primarily Muslim-controlled areas.
It doesn't take a whole lot of imagination to see that Christianity is becoming extinct in some of the areas where it originated. It makes one wonder what our Lord is trying to teach us. Israel, the birthplace of our faith, is populated by 1% or less of Christians. Christianity in Europe has been fading, particularly over the last several decades. Christianity in our own country may in fact be increasingly challenged -- challenged because they are often more reflections of the culture than of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Sometimes it appears that Christianity just doesn't age very well. Rather than seeking to discover what it was about our early days that energized and empowered us as a people of faith, it could be we tend to turn an encounter with the living God in to a formalized powerless ritual experience. I've always liked the idea that God doesn't have any grandchildren -- only sons and daughters.
Counselors will tell us that the first blush of love might last for a year-and-a-half to two years. During that first blush of love, the couple behaves in strange ways. It's almost as if the man and the woman caught up in the exuberance of the beating of their hearts somehow mask the true nature of who they are. One of the songs that I think displays this sentiment has the line, "You don't bring me flowers anymore." Of course, the assumption in the song is that at the beginning of their relationship flowers were brought on a regular basis. Over time, the flowers stop coming. The flowers symbolize a kind of thoughtfulness and effort that went into making the love bright and exuberant. The flowers represent a kind of passion that made the steps of the lovers light and the work of love joyful. For love to grow beyond the first blush, beyond a year-and-a-half to two years of exuberance, effort will need to be applied. Discoveries need to be made, the relationship will deepen or it will become shallower. The experience of knowing the other will continue to enrich the heart and soul as one discovers new mysteries in the relationship, or the relationship will become a source of bitterness and frustration, a place of disappointment and resentments.
A relationship with God -- even religion -- is a lot like this. Either our faith will grow beyond the first blush of knowing our Lord and deepen into a daily exploration of the wonders of the Almighty, or it will become a tradition, a sideshow, an increasingly lifeless form that becomes more of a duty then a delight.
At a wedding ceremony, every guest in attendance is asked if they will support the couple in their life together. Usually all in attendance will offer a resounding, "We Will!" The same is true in baptism as the congregation welcomes the new Christian into the fellowship and makes promises to support this newborn in the faith in their journey of resisting evil and respecting the dignity of every human being, as they enter the fellowship and join in prayer and seek to reflect the person of Christ throughout their life.
Where have all the churches gone -- those churches in the book of Revelation -- the early congregations that were present throughout Israel, the mostly empty cathedrals throughout Europe? Perhaps it's time for the church to come alive again as believers offer themselves, their bodies, their whole being, to reflecting the life and ministry of our Lord. We are the place of his presence. I suppose we need to ask, is God recognizable within us?
* * *
Caught Not Taught
By John Smylie
2 Timothy 1:1-14
I love the reference to Timothy's family. One can imagine Timothy sitting in his one-room home watching his grandmother pray. Perhaps as a child he heard the prayers not only of his grandmother but of his mother as they prayed for him, for members of their community, for folks in their family and for the world. If Timothy was like every other little boy when he was growing up, out playing with his friends and then coming home after doing a few chores and perhaps making a bit of income for the family, one can imagine coming home for him was like coming into holy space. His home was filled with an invitation to the Almighty God to be present.
Perhaps for Timothy, faith was caught not taught. I suspect, as a young child, he did spend some time in study with his elders but I suspect even more their faith, the faith of his grandmother and mother was an ever-present and shining example to him. Something in them attracted him, and one can only imagine that he wanted to have the light that he saw present in them in his own life.
When I first became interested in healing ministry, I heard about a healing mission coming to our home church. It was at a time in my life when I didn't spend a lot of time at church but I did believe that God was a God who was powerful. Sometimes churches to me did not seem like places where God was present but rather little communities that were caught up with the bitter struggles, petty infighting, and very often filled with mean-spirited people. Later I would learn that churches are hospitals for sinners, not museums for saints -- so I suppose it was good that those folks with all their struggles allowed themselves to be under the influence of the good news of Jesus Christ.
In any case, I was excited by the neighborhood church offering a healing mission to the community. I decided I would go. The man who led the experience, the healing mission, was the international warden of the Healing Order of St. Luke the Physician. His name was John Park. I guess if I was to look at that language now -- the warden -- I might wonder if it was a prison ministry. In fact it was a ministry that sought to set people free from physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual ailments.
John looked like my image of a kung fu master. He had a bald head and a chiseled face. His spirit was soft and gentle and yet when he laid his hands upon anyone the power coming through them was strong and tangible. The strength of Christ within him contrasted against his own deeply humble spirit, and I found myself wanting to be like him. This was clearly an example of faith being caught not taught. Here in front of me was a man who believed in the power of God, and allowed himself to be a channel of the same. How blessed we are when we have examples in our life -- people -- who reflect to us the height and depth and breadth of God. How blessed we are when the sound teaching of our Lord is not only spoken but demonstrated by a life that is dedicated and possessed by the passion of Christ and the presence of the Holy Spirit.
How blessed we are when there are those around us who radiate the love of Christ -- John Park was one of those teachers for me and I find myself still desiring to catch a hold of the goodness and power of the Lord that was so present within him. Sometimes we may not be aware of the gifts we have -- particularly the gift of presence -- the Lord's presence within us. Pray that we will be faithful grandmothers and grandfathers, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, pray that we will all be faithful children of our Lord and reflections of the power and presence of Jesus Christ.
John S. Smylie is the rector of St. Mark's Episcopal Church in Casper, Wyoming. Previously he served as the dean of the Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist in Spokane, Washington. He is a published author and storyteller as well as a singer-songwriter. Smylie recently completed Grace for Today, a collection of 25 stories that explores how grace, loss, and restoration are part of the same fabric.
* * *
Oh, Mulberries!
By David O. Bales
Luke 17:5-10
"Listen to this," Dan said as he rushed into Julie's sewing room. "The Bible mentions mulberries in First Maccabees. It was used to drive elephants wild enough to fight."
Julie didn't look up from her work. She shook her head and answered in a monotone, "I think you're taking this too far."
"No. Listen Jule." Dan read to her from his book, "The unripe fruit can cause hallucinations as well as physical sickness."
Julie slowly lifted the fabric from her lap, set it onto the table, and shook her head again. She spoke with a little more force, "You're letting this get to you. And I really don't think a Bible dictionary is the place to look for mulberry help."
Dan slammed his Bible dictionary shut and started down the hall. "You might like to learn that a mulberry has catkins. You can work that into conversation with your associates at the firm."
The mulberry tree had only become a problem after summer arrived. Dan and Julie had moved into their new home the September before. All the neighbors came to greet them except the neighbors who lived directly behind them. An eight-foot high fence separated the two properties. The mulberry tree grew in Dan and Julie's yard, but the foliage spread far over both sides of the fence.
When spring arrived, the tree provided perfect shade on Dan and Julie's patio. However, by late June the mulberry tree was dropping its bland fruit like little purple bombs and staining the patio. Obviously, the fruit also fell on the neighbors' side. Dan and Julie arrived home a week ago to find their tree "trimmed" straight up the property line on the neighbors' side. It had begun to lean toward Dan and Julie's house and by morning two large branches had snapped; one had broken completely and landed on their roof.
Dan had been late for work that morning as he quickly hacked out limbs that seemed most in danger of breaking or damaging the house. Later that week they hired a tree surgeon to trim it as best he could. After two hours' work the man said, "There's not much hope. I left as much as I could," he slapped his hand against the tree trunk, "but, when a tree's been cut that lop-sided and sprung the root ball, if it doesn't die immediately, it's usually so weakened that disease sets in."
When the tree surgeon had left, the two stood looking up at their denuded tree -- Dan's hands on his hips, jaw tight. "It was on their side," Julie said. "They had every right to cut it."
"If they'd talked to us about it," Dan fumed. "We would have agreed that it messed up their patio, and I'd have helped them and trimmed our side as they cut theirs so it wouldn't tear the roots up."
"We're going to have to forgive them," Julie said. "We can't let a tree lead us to hate others. Are you listening?"
Dan was running his hand up the trunk, rubbing his finger into the tears that the surgeon had sprayed full of tar, "Yeah, yeah," he said.
"We've got to drop it. It's not as though we've been personally attacked or something. We've got to deal with this as Christians."
"Okay, okay," he said, as he stood near the trunk looking up through the limbs. Julie had left him to his inspecting.
Now, Dan had decided to learn about mulberry trees and even to see what the Bible might say about them. Julie came out of her sewing room and followed him down the hall, "You're trying to use the Bible like a weapon."
"Sure, sure," he said as he went outside, carrying the encyclopedia's M volume to read under the remains of his tree.
An hour later Dan had the encyclopedia and Bible dictionary open beside him, as he stared at the denuded tree. Julie came out with a glass of lemonade in one hand. She held a Bible in the other. "I did a little research myself," she said.
Dan looked from the tree to her face and then to the book in her hand. "What?"
She handed him the glass. "I think you should look carefully at what Jesus said about mulberries. I want you to read. There," she said as she handed the Bible to him and pointed. "Go on and read through verse ten."
A breeze rustled the mulberry tree and folded a page of the Bible over Dan's hand. He set down the lemonade and held the page down to read it. Julie could tell he was reading carefully, because his lips were moving. He stopped reading, sipped from the glass, then closed the Bible.
"Does that make sense?" Julie said.
"Not perfect," Dan said, "Doesn't exactly fit our case."
"No, not exactly, but it's not case law."
"And, I guess slaves don't have to like what they're told to do. Don't even have to understand everything. Just do it."
"Yep," Julie said, "I always told you that you'd make a worthless slave."
"I give up," Dan looked at the tree sadly. "But do you suppose," he gave a half smile. "Do you suppose Jesus meant the whole mulberry tree? You know what that would do to the roots?"
David O. Bales is a retired Presbyterian minister and a freelance writer and editor for Stephen Ministries and Tebunah Ministries. He is the author of Gospel Subplots: Story Sermons of God's Grace and is a contributing author to Sermons on the Second Readings (Series II, Cycle A).
**************
StoryShare, October 7, 2007, issue.
Copyright 2007 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., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
