Indwelling and On-dwelling

One of the most powerful realities of the Christian faith is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. How amazing is it that God doesn't just forgive and redeem us through Jesus Christ, accepting us as we are, but He also sends His Holy Spirit, the very Spirit that raised Jesus Christ from the dead, to dwell within us?! (See one of my favorite verses, Romans 8:11) It is more than just wearing a wedding ring representing our marriage to God. Rather, the very God who has saved us from sin's guilt and power is inside us and transforming us every day. Wow.

I reflect on this because I was thinking earlier today about "dwelling." I have heard this word many times in my life, mostly because I have a tendency to dwell on things. Growing up I was the one who worried, over-analyzed, and got preoccupied by things. I would verbalize something to my dad and he would say, "Why are you dwelling on that?" I got a message in that repeated question that I misinterpreted. My misinterpretation was "Dwelling is bad." I shouldn't dwell just like I shouldn't worry. After all, when a parent or mentor figure asks you why you are doing something, often the implication is that you should not be or that you could be doing something better. But dwelling is not bad. Dwelling is something we humans do. In fact, dwelling can be good! I believe dwelling is even a spiritual discipline. Paul in his letters talks a lot about "dwelling in" (God in us). But there is one verse where he focuses on "dwelling on." Philippians 4:8 says:

"And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise." (New Living Translation)

Something strikes me about this "on-dwelling." Our indwelling and our on-dwelling are directly related. Who dwells within us should affect what we dwell on. This is convicting. To be confessional for a moment, I dwell on many things frequently each day that do not line up with Paul's exhortation. I dwell on what I would like to buy that may or may not enrich my life. I dwell on failures that God is trying to free me from but that I have trouble letting go of. I dwell on things people have said that they have long forgotten and I would do well to at least forgive if not forget, too. And I dwell far too much on the trivial instead of the things of God that are significant and eternal. Dwelling is a struggle.

So I am asking myself, and I invite you to ask yourself, what am I dwelling on? Yes, perhaps in this moment but more so on a daily basis. If I think about what I dwell on I can begin to be more proactive in pursuing Paul's suggestion - to discipline myself to dwell on things that reflect the One who dwells within. May our on-dwelling reflect our Indwelling. After all, the very Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead lives in us so that we may have new life as well!

Children and the Holy Land

Two weeks ago today, we brought home our second child. I've never been to the Holy Land, but I think having a child might be a little like that experience. You can almost feel the palpable emotion in one telling of the first time. It is a life-changer. There is no way to fully prepare. One can't know the emotions to expect until going through it firsthand. And that first experience is always a unique like-none-other experience. Thus, it's strange to go through an event like that more than once. Maybe I'm peculiar in feeling that way. But one goes through a birth - this big, scary, traumatic, amazing, life-altering event - where on the other side is this unique child you wouldn't take anything for. It's almost bizarre to get to go through that again. It seems like such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Though going back means reliving some of the awe I thought I'd never be able to forget from going through the first time! And yet, it's not a repeat of the first time. This is a paradox: a familiar once-in-a-lifetime experience. And from what I gather, it never stops being that way no matter how many times one gets to have this adventure.

The World Will Never Be the Same

Eden Cynthia Hart born 5/24/12 at 10:13p, 20" long, 7 lbs 5 oz.

East of Eden

If the sun’s path can be a metaphor of life then we are always traveling westward toward its setting. Thus, every event we have yet to encounter is west and we are heading toward it from the east. Liz and I are closer than ever, but still “east of Eden.” We named our daughter for that Paradise where we once walked blamelessly and blissfully with our Maker (Gen.2:8-9) and for the hope of returning to another Garden yet to come where we will do the same forevermore (Rev. 22:1-5). However, the arrival of this Eden will not be the return to Paradise, but rather like the chaos on which God eventually imposed order. It will be traumatic.

It will be traumatic for Eden, because whether we realize it or not birth is the first traumatic event every human experiences. Our birth is our introduction to trauma. It will be traumatic for Liz as this alien who has invaded her body and lived as a parasitic host for 9 months is about to be…delivered. And while I only use on verb for gentle propriety, I am sure you can add other verbs and a host of adjectives to confirm the event as one of trauma. This even will be traumatic for Noah. Before reaching age 2, his home, family, life, and the world as he knows it will be invaded beyond his control and changed forever. And finally, as a spectator and active participant in the entire aforementioned trauma, this event would be traumatic enough for me if I had no trauma of my own. But I will.

I have now preached my 35^th sermon here at Shalimar. I’ve done my first few weddings and my first handful of funerals. I feel as if we are finally getting to know one another. But you have not yet watched me go through an event of this magnitude. I make a special apology in advance for the first sermon I preach after Eden’s arrival. If it is coherent at all I am certain it will contain things for which I will need to apologize and at the very least an untrustworthy level of content. I also apologize for all one-on-one conversations I will have the first days or even weeks into her arrival. If you walk away thinking, “Was it just me?” rest assured it was really me. While I am here to serve you and you owe me nothing, I ask openly and unashamedly for your understanding, love, support, encouragement, and most importantly, for your prayers. For, only God Himself can get families through this! We’ll see you on the west side.

Grace and peace,

Pastor Jonathan

Questions

Tonight I realized a truth that has proven itself over and over to me as I received a revelation about a question I've been asking silently for months.

If you ask a question long enough you'll receive one of two things: an answer or a better question to ask. Either way the asking was fruitful.

So, I encourage you. Ask questions. And keep asking.

"My Pawp"

The day before yesterday, I read this to the family and friends gathered to grieve the loss and celebrate the life of A. B. Manley. For the rest of my life I will miss him.

I wish I could stand here today on behalf of the family and capture every detail of the man we are here to remember and celebrate. But I know I have neither time nor composure to do all of their respects and memories justice. So instead, I’d like to capture a bit of my own personal experience from my borrowed time with the man I knew as “Pawp.”

For those of you who don’t know me, I am Jonathan Hart, one of Al Manley’s grandchildren. He had been my only living grandfather since 3^rd grade, and we were closer than most people I know are to their grandfather. For that gift alone I will be eternally grateful.

I’ll just go ahead and admit that I was raised an only child and received the usual spoiling thereof. But while the family made occasional comments and warnings about this, no one seemed to feel strongly enough to do anything about it. At Christmas and birthdays it was mainly the fault of my mother and grandmother, but other family pitched in. Usually not Pawp. His name would be signed on all cards and tags next to my grandmother’s and I would be quite doubtless that he had no part in picking out the exact model Bat mobile with all its various components. But as the family knows, Pawp never feared a spoiled loved one…nor a spoiled dog, for that matter, evidenced by the continual giving of table scraps along with the pretend scolding to follow. Pawp did not investigate all 55 items on my Christmas list and expend the energy to meet every wish.

INSTEAD, virtually every one of the countless times I would go over to spend the weekend, I would wait for it. It might not be within the first hour or two, nor perhaps even the first day. But at some point, Pawp would pull on his Members Only jacket over his tucked in plaid shirt and slacks…and jingle the familiar keys. I would look up pretending to be confused through his bifocals into those age-softened Choctaw Indian eyes and wait for the words. “Son, I need to go to Walmarts. You woanna go wi’me?” I would quickly stop sword fighting my invisible opponent with my grand-mother’s wooden spoon or halt work on my cardboard space shuttle to hit the road with Pawp. While he could find a reason to go to Walmart or Lowes pretty much any day of the week, he would make up some special excuse to go when I was there.

He would pretend not to know where his one needed item was or he would pretend to have several things to look at knowing that I would love nothing more than a solid 15-20 minutes in the aisle of action figures. He would always eventually come moseying in from one side of the aisle taking his time to get to me, smiling and peering at the package in my hand and say, “Did you find the right one?” As I would nod beaming he would scrutinize it as if he was actually comprehending what in the world it was and confirm, “So this is it, huh? Well, we better get it and go.” Each trip he would make a five-dollar investment into what my Uncle Michael estimates was my $5000 collection of action figures. And this kind of investment for all those he loved was absolutely characteristic of my Pawp.

I’ll never forget the day Pawp pulled over the white extended cab automatic 96 Chevy S-10 pickup on Cottage Hill Rd and said, “Alright, it’s your turn. Take us home.” At that moment I realized that Pawp entrusted his life into my hands. He taught many of the family members to drive, and I believe he would have given his life for us to learn how to drive because he almost did…several times.

I honestly think he was the most patient man I’ve ever met. He was also kind and saw the best in people. He never had a bad thing to say about anybody unless it was a joke, and then he felt guilty over it for days. And likewise we don’t know of one bad thing anyone’s ever said about him. Family came first, and he never ever ever passed up a chance to say or express in some way how much he loved each and every one of us.

And we’ve been saying goodbye for as long as I can remember. Because Pawp treated each parting as if it might be the last, standing in the driveway waving and shouting things at the car window blowing kisses only to go inside once the car was out of sight. He leaves a legacy of love, kindness, patience, gentleness, compassion, joy, discipline, and commitment.

Oh Lord, make us thankful for all these and many other blessings for your sake and in your name. Amen.


(The prayer in bold at the end is how I chose to close, a prayer Pawp said before every single meal at such a speed few could distinguish the words. He would always chuckle and reply, "He knows what I'm sayin'.")

Martin Luther’s Daily Prayers

LUTHER’S MORNING PRAYER

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

I thank you, my heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ, Your dear Son, that You have kept me this night from all harm and danger; and I pray that You would keep me this day also from sin and every evil, that all my doings and life may please You. For into Your hands I commend myself, my body and soul, and all things. Let Your holy angel be with me, that the evil foe may have no power over me. Amen.

LUTHER’S EVENING PRAYER

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

I thank you, my heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ, Your dear Son, that You have graciously kept me this day; and I pray that You would forgive me all my sins where I have done wrong, and graciously keep me this night. For into Your hands, I commend myself, my body and soul, and all things. Let Your holy angel be with me, that the evil foe may have no power over me. Amen.