Sessions with John

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
In a shameless act of self-promotion, let me announce the publication of my new book, Sessions with John: The Vocabulary of Grace. This book is an exploration of key words and themes from the Gospel of John. Unlike most studies of John’s Gospel, this book does not journey through John in the usual chapter-by-chapter fashion. Instead, it unpacks the meaning of twelve words from John’s distinctive “vocabulary of grace,” words like “life,” “light,” “truth,” “believe,” and “eternal life.”

My guiding image of John’s Gospel is a spiral staircase. The enchanting power of a spiral staircase rests in its ability to give an ever-changing perspective on the same space. As one ascends the staircase, the sights above and below are seen again and again but each time, from a slightly different angle, at varying distances and in shifting light. The result is a much fuller immersion in the beauty of a lovely, inviting entrance than is possible from ordinary stairs.

Similarly, in John’s story of Jesus, certain words and themes appear again and again. The reader leaves a given emphasis, only to circle round and see it reappear, but this time in a different context. With each “spiral” of the truth or theme, the reader’s grasp of the message deepens until Jesus’ “words of life” penetrate the deepest parts of the self where real transformation begins (John 6:63, 68).

The Vocabulary of Grace is, broadly speaking, a Bible study book for individuals and groups. Indeed, it is part of a larger Smyth and Helwys series called Sessions with . . . (various Bible authors). But what sets this book apart, at least in my mind, is the way it follows John’s artful unfolding of a single truth throughout his work, step by step, up each round of a spiraling ascent toward a dazzling view of God’s grace and glory in Jesus Christ (John 1:14-18).

Naturally, I hope members of the First Church family will want to buy a copy, whether out of love for John’s Gospel or just to help pad my retirement account! But in the likely event some do not, I want all to see the book’s dedication:

To the good people of the First Baptist Church of Christ of Macon, Georgia, who taught me far more about knowing, loving, and following Jesus than I ever taught them . . . and to Bambi--my wife, pastor, and friend--who has become Christ’s truth and grace to me time and time again.

I have been deeply blessed by John’s Gospel, by my dear wife, and by you, the people of God at the top of Poplar. That’s the truth. And the truth, John’s Gospel tells us, “shall set you free” (8:32).

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Lightning Strike

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
During the severe thunderstorms that rumbled through Macon on Saturday, August 21, lighting struck the taller of the two towers on our church. The lightning struck on the Washington Avenue side where the roof line meets the face of the tower. The band of white quatrefoils ("four-leaf clovers" for the architecturally challenged like me) that borders the top of the tower shows slight signs of damage. Twenty feet below there is a damaged area of chipped brick where the lightning exited the building.

Among the fragments of brick and mortar found on the sidewalk and street below, there was a white, pressed tin quatrefoil from far above and a piece of charred timber about the size of a book of matches. That fire-blackened fragment was from a rafter in the roof line of the spire.

When I first held that charred piece of timber in my hand, I was struck by how close we came to a real catastrophe. Twice before, our sanctuary was destroyed by fire: first, in 1883 (a  former sanctuary on Second Street) and then in 1885, just days before our present structure was to be dedicated. The congregation resolved to rebuild and consecrated our present house of worship two years later in 1887.

While the cosmetic damage to the tower appears slight--and a Sunday afternoon inspection by the fire department revealed no structural problems--the lightning strike created havoc elsewhere. It knocked out the air conditioning, the PA system, some electronic stops in the pipe organ, the alarm system, and portions of the phone system. Fortunately, the wizards on our audio crew rigged up a makeshift PA system and Anne played beautifully on the piano instead of the organ. Other able helpers managed to resurrect the blowers, if not the air conditioning, so the sanctuary--while warm--was bearable. Many worshipers turned their bulletins into makeshift fans as we enjoyed an unplanned "heritage Sunday," battling August heat much as our predecessors did 100 years ago.
  
The good news is that the air conditioning is now fully functional, the alarm is on, and the phones are working. A complete repair to the audio system and organ may take a couple of weeks, but we will be in business Sunday, lustily singing our praises and proclaiming the best news of all: that whether catastrophe befalls us, or we are spared, in times of wrenching tears and joyous song, God is faithful and loving and true. For while lightning is fickle and unpredictable, "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever" (Hebrews 13:8). And for that, most of all, we say, "Thanks be to God!"

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Riding the Waves

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
During our recent vacation at the beach, I did a lot of body-surfing. In fact, that is probably my favorite thing to do at the beach. Bambi is the sun goddess. I prefer frolicking in the surf.

For the uninitiated, “body-surfing” means to ride the waves with one’s body in a prone position, stiff as a board. The would-be surfer waits waist-deep in the ocean for the “right” wave to come along, meaning a wave large enough to propel the person forward but not so strong as to overwhelm him or her. When the swimmer commits to a wave, he or she stretches out with arms and legs suspended like Superman, rocketing through the sky. The wave rises and lifts the swimmer until he or she is skimming on the surface, hurtling toward shore. If all goes well, the swimmer may glide 20 or 30 yards before the wave sputters out or the surf becomes too shallow to support a swimmer.

When there is good symmetry between a swimmer and a wave, the resulting ride is exhilarating. To feel the power of the ocean surging beneath one’s body, spiriting one along, is to experience the playful abandon of the dolphins while leaving the landlubbers behind.

It struck me while riding the waves that this experience was an apt metaphor for authentic spirituality (Trust me. Preacher’s minds work like that). So often, spirituality is conceived as what we must do to make God pay attention or take notice of us. But what if God is not an impatient school master, waiting for us to turn in our lessons, but a glistening, swelling wave, inviting us to play? What if “being spiritual” is not so much about the religious games we play or the pious (or impious) words we use but learning to pick the best wave of the Spirit to ride? What if God is already at work, churning up the surf, and our job is but to join God in God’s mission, rather than stubbornly pursue our own plan or program?

Spirituality seen as Kingdom work we must doggedly pursue leaves us exhausted, while spirituality viewed as Kingdom work God will do while we wait for divine deliverance, leaves us immobilized. In truth, the best spirituality--the most transforming mode of discipleship--involves all the artistry and skill we can muster yoked to a heady confidence in the grace and goodness of God. As Paul writes to the Philippians, “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling”--a strong affirmation of human initiative--“for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure”--an equally strong affirmation of the buoyancy and momentum of grace (Phil. 2:12-13).

Sure sounds like body-surfing to me.

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Living Water

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
During our recent beach vacation, Bambi and I took a day trip to the Universal Studios theme park in Orlando. Built around Universal Studio blockbusters, the park is full of glitz and glamour and adrenaline-packed excitement. Fans of Shrek and Harry Potter will think they have died and gone to heaven.

For me, however, the park was something of a disappointment. Yes, it was “fun,” but fun as cotton candy is fun, full of sensory stimulation but no enduring satisfaction. Watching the sun rise over the Atlantic swells the soul with gratitude and awe; disembarking from the “Revenge of the Mummy” ride at Universal Studios left me wondering, “What’s next?,” like an entertainment addict looking for his next hit.

Granted, I don’t exactly fit the park’s demographic target. I’m caught in the strange no man’s land between fatherhood and (hopefully!) grandfatherhood. No doubt having a couple of kids along to relish Universal Studio’s playground would have increased my fun by a factor of 10!

Still, I feel somehow out-of-sync with my culture’s love affair with the movies. Sure, I enjoy a good flick as much as the next guy, but I don’t believe Hollywood is nearly as important as all the hype would have us believe. The movies, like a theme park, reside in an artificial, make-believe world. But to learn the truth about myself and my world, I find myself hankering after Jesus. He is more sunrise than blockbuster, more soft light than spotlights, more beauty than glamour, more lasting peace than passing pleasure. That’s why I love him so.

In their book on the Lord’s Prayer, Lord, Teach Us to Pray, Will Willimon and Stanley Haueras point out that on any given week, about 50 million Americans attend a service of worship in their church; only a small fraction of that number go to a movie. Yet when you open your web browser or newspaper on Monday morning, you’re a lot more likely to read about Lindsey Lohan or Paris Hilton than Jesus.

That’s why the church is so vitally important: it helps us remember and see and feel what is essential and enduring and eternally true. No, Sunday worship at the top of Poplar (or anywhere else) is not as entertaining as the Universal Studios theme park or their latest blockbuster. But Sunday worship bears witness to the unseen but powerfully real Presence that gives  life meaning that doesn’t fade with the roll of the credits at the end of the film.

Jesus promised “living water” that would lead believers to “never thirst” (John 4:14). Maybe what he meant was that believers are the folk who remember--when lost in a wilderness filled with everything else--what they are truly thirsting for, namely, the life and love of God, radiant in and through the Risen One.

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