Revived

Revival has come and gone and July has drawn to a close.  Vacation Bible School lessons have been learned and volunteers can put their feet up until next year.  Vacation to Chicago had and memories await storing.  The local Volunteer Fire Department has commemorated the community’s vision and its 35th anniversary.  Ice cream made has been eaten and dunking preacher balls have been thrown.  And one very tired but very happy preacher is ready to say good-bye to another July.

July is my birthday month and in years past, I would celebrate from beginning to end, labeling July as “the month of Beth”.  I haven’t done that for a long time, but this month brought it back to mind in a very different way than those days when I would self-reward the whole month long.

This July’s month-of-Beth celebrations include a grandson at the age of discovery and great good humor. . . local friends, old and new sharing their journeys of faith . . . time well met at the communion table again and again and again . . . songs of faith and love and sorrow and pilgrimage whispering into my soul . . . prayers colored into lasting shapes to remember the ones prayed for by . . . young moms laughing with delight at their children racing across the lawn . . . families struggling to find their place and their way . . . time spent with my son, whom I respect as well as love, enjoy as well as treasure . . . doors opened by friends to this weary traveler . . . a hiatus in conflicts that just might become something more than a cease-fire . . . a congregant finding joy as well as meaning in the Bible as it speaks directly to him . . . old ladies sitting on lawn chairs doing their job – watching the children with joy in their existence . . . sorrys offered and accepted . . .

Yes, July has passed.  It was a very good month.  And I am grateful.

Revived, Reviving

revival:  re·viv·al noun \ri-'vi-vəl – renewed attention to or interest in something.  (1) : a period of renewed religious interest (2) : an often highly emotional evangelistic meeting or series of meetings.  Merriam-Webster

The word revival is almost anathema in my tradition these days.  We Americans largely of Scots descent who call ourselves Presbyterians largely eschew the second meaning of revival in religious terms, having been well- and long-trained to distrust the emotional when it comes to our religion.  Emotions are fleeting things.  They do not last.  The picture of the town drunk coming down at meeting to confess and cry and believe only to be lying in the arms of torpor again tomorrow is indelibly inscribed on our subconscious.

Some might think it ironic that we spiritual descendants of Jonathan Edwards (participant in America’s 18th century Great Awakening) would be so sore about revival, but it must be remembered that the Great Awakening itself was a thing of great controversy, that it is said that some folks in reaction to their own despair of ever being admitted into the company of saints, took their own lives, and that while its effects were perhaps long-lasting, the ardor cooled pretty quickly in the revival’s wake.  Wikipedia

All of that said, this week’s revival in Highland County has been, I think, a thing of beauty and grace.  My more charismatic friends might bemoan the lack of fervor and my more presbyterian ones might decry some of the finer theological points (or they might not).

But people of many persuasions have shared their experiences of God moving in and through their lives, of their introduction to the faith, of their wanderings and their returns, and it has been good to sit with stories shared.

Tonight I will preside over God’s table at our last gathering.  It is my hope and prayer all will find there the joy of God’s grace, the fellowship of the Holy Spirit and the communion of all the saints through the wide door Jesus has laid open in all our hearts.

May it be so, Lord God, may it be so.

And There Will Be Chocolate

Yesterday has come and gone and it was a good day – a very good day.  Church in the morning with chocolate communion – yummm!  Ice Cream Social and Kid’s Carnival in the afternoon and I’m dunked by the first one up – a young girl who just happens to be a standout on her softball team and has an arm Mickey Mantle would be proud of (thanks, Gretchen).

Kids roamed and played and laughed in the sunlight – or did their laughter bring the sunlight?  It’s hard to say.  Old folk sat and watched and oohed and aahed the silly prize treasures won and ate ice cream to their hearts’ content.

The day ended with the annual county revival.  Testimonies were given, all special, but Tracy’s comeback from a death-threatening illness was the highlight.  Just seeing her before us was testimony enough.  The music was charmed and inspired.  And then Mark (the local Baptist preacher), leading off the four nights of shared communion, speaks to us of the Baptist way.  Mark is a good man and a wonderful pastor and friend.  He is thoughtful and clear.

As I listened intently to his description of the communion experience from the Baptist perspective, my eyes wandered – first to the cross behind and above him on the wall and then above the cross to the furthest darkened small corner where odd angles meet at the top of the sanctuary – there, just there, as Mark connected the communion table to the ultimate meeting with our Lord, was the dove-hovering Holy Spirit, whispering so only I could hear . . . and there will be chocolate . . .

And I smile.

Yes, it was a very good day indeed.

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Read more here about Chocolate Communion

Too Blessed

I have been too stressed to be blessed.

Oops

It’s supposed to be ‘I am too blessed to be stressed.”

Supposed to be.

But I forgot.

Then someone brought me some lettuce from another friend’s garden – sharing her largesse.

And another friend lent a listening ear.

And other friends brought me gifts of red meat – kinds I love from Whole Foods – some days you just need gifts of red meat and this was one of them.

And then another friend, my own personal pastor, reminded me of important truths and loved me.

Others sent e-mails and phone calls and prayers of love.

Son Ben said the words a mother loves to hear: when I asked him what I needed to do, to bring, to a family gathering, he answered, “Nothing but yourself.”

And I went to a revival tonight where personal testimonies were given by lay people who opened themselves and shared their stories of pain and joy, faith fulfilled and prayers answered in ways big and small.

We were all invited to see the connections – to remember the movement of God in our own lives.  While friend Alex was speaking, I opened the song book to I Surrender All.  The worship leader wasn’t taking requests, but I really needed that song.  And the last song he called out as we were leaving was I Surrender All.

I rode over and back with Peggy and Baptist and Presbyterian giggled in the night like old friends.

Then I got home and found a message of encouragement from Mickie, a former congregant now living in Louisiana.

I have received many kindnesses today.

And I am grateful, Lord.

I am seeing the connections tonight, God.

And I thank you for them.

I am revived.

And I bless you for that.