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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The Pulpit's Backside

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
Sunday morning as I was waiting to preach, I noticed a small fan humming away from inside the pulpit. It was angled to cool the preacher as he delivered the sermon on a day the heat index reached 109 degrees. A 109 degree day--plus the additional hot air being generated in the immediate vicinity of the pulpit--might lead to head stroke. An unseen angel thoughtfully added a fan.

That fan was just one more strange artifact to end up on the back side of the pulpit, a holy place most people never see.

In the great Temple of Jerusalem, the innermost sanctum was the Holy of Holies, a small chamber where the Ark of the Covenant was kept and the High Priest went to atone for the sins of the people. No one save the High Priest could venture into the Holy of Holies and he but once-a-year.

Our “holy of holies”--the back side of the pulpit--is available for all to see, though few adults ever bother to look. The children do, though, and they can tell you what is found there: a glass of ice water (just in case!), a box of Kleenex, two reading lights, a hymnal or two, and a foot stool for children to stand upon when reading Scripture during the service.

Then there’s all the stuff that ends up inside the pulpit that doesn’t “belong”: abandoned sheet music, a director’s baton, somebody’s reading glasses, broken pencils, forgotten bulletins and sermon notes, a half-devoured pack of Hall’s throat lozenges, and a necklace or ear ring bound for lost-and-found.

Perhaps those who picture the sanctuary a serene and holy place where heaven and earth meet find the truth about the backside of the pulpit disconcerting: all that chaos, debris, and inelegance! Shouldn’t everything in the sanctuary be in perfect order, prim and proper to a T?

I hope not because if the sanctuary is that kind of place, nobody I know is welcome. Each of us is comprised of both a shiny, presentable exterior and a hidden, interior world filled with anxieties and fears and secret hopes and longings. Occasionally somebody gets to see the “real me,” the “essential you,” but such moments are rare. Mostly the only One to see the back side of the Soul is God, before whom the secrets of every heart are disclosed (Psalm 44:21).

Thus, for Christians, the holy of holies is not some supposed perfect place but rather honest heart where we quit pretending to ourselves, to others, and to God. And this, we can dare to do for we have a high priest who has opened up a “new and living way” to God that starts with being real about our need for grace (Hebrews 10:19-22).

Miss Manners notwithstanding, I don’t worry much about the unkempt nature of the back side of the pulpit. We are a Good News people, after all, a people of grace.

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Vacation BIBLE School

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by Julie Long
Several years ago, I was having dinner with a family of the church in the weeks preceding Vacation Bible School.  Since the wife was volunteering at VBS, the conversation naturally shifted toward our preparations. As we clamored on about the jazzy theme, decorations, and schedule of activities, the husband sarcastically snorted, "I remember the days when the theme of Vacation Bible School was THE BIBLE!"

Many times since that occasion, I have remembered that comment – mostly when I have been on a ladder hanging a sparkly decoration from the ceiling or rearranging the sanctuary to create a beach scene or space shuttle mission control center!; Sometimes, when I have been racking my brain for a creative backdrop or am exhausted by the countless hours of preparation, I have been tempted by the same wondering – can’t VBS just be a little simpler?; Maybe you have wondered the same thing as you’ve entered the festive building on the Sunday morning before VBS!

But then, the Monday morning of VBS arrives, and I see the wonder-filled eyes of our preschoolers and children as they see this familiar place take on a new shape.  For this week, their imaginations are allowed to run wild.  The church becomes outer space, or a western ranch, or an exciting summer camp.  They enjoy games and snacks and music and science experiments.  They make new friends, both with kids their age and with various generations of adults who have given their time to help.  Above all, they LEARN because they are having fun!  And they feel special because they know that all of this energy and excitement and preparation is done just for them.

So is all of the effort and planning and time and money worth it?  Does what we invest in Vacation Bible School make a difference?  Yes.  For the 90-something kids that entered these church doors last week to worship the God of the universe, it did.  For the 60-something adults and youth who volunteered their time to laugh and play and be a role model for children, it did.  And for a church who looks hopefully toward her future, it is worth every dime and every moment.

I overheard a long-time VBS volunteer say last week, "VBS is not what it used to be! But that’s a good thing." No, VBS is not what it used to be.  All good things must endure some change in order to survive.  But for the children of this church and community, VBS continues to be a wonderful gift.  It teaches our children that they are loved by God and by this church, and it teaches them to share the love that they have received with our community and our world.   When that happens, no matter what the decorations say, the theme of Bible School is the Bible!

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Time, Time, Time

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
The Sunday after Father's Day, I marched into the sanctuary five minutes late. Not a "few minutes" late but five minutes late. On the dot.

At the time, I didn't realize I was late so I was shocked to open the sanctuary door and find the service already in progress. It was like awakening from a dream to discover the world you thought was real, was not, while the real world had gone on quite nicely without you.

Still dazed, trying to figure out what happened, I now realized why I hadn't heard the choir sing their final warm-up next door to my study. But it was June, after all, and sometimes in the dog days of summer, we have a solo rather than a choral anthem. The uncommon quiet and stillness in the moments just before worship should have been a warning, but lost in final preparations for the service, I didn't notice.

So standing up there in front of God and everybody, five minutes late for the high and holy hour, I wracked my brain: How did this happen?! My digital watch clearly said "11:05," which meant I was right on time because I have run my watch five minutes fast for years. The practice provides an extra measure of protection to prevent just such embarrassing moments as this!!

Then it hit me. My daughter, Whitney, gave me a new watch for Father's Day. And this high-tech wonder automatically syncs with the national automatic clock in Colorado. So even though I set the watch five minutes fast, it automatically corrected the "error" without bothering to tell me!

Since then, I've been trying to readjust my life to live on "real" time.  Like the most annoying of friends (you know, someone like Jesus) the watch insists on always telling the truth! So far, I’ve been spared any further embarrassments, but I've also been surprised at how hard it is to retrain my time-keeping habits. Even small lies, once long-held and fiercely coddled, are not easily surrendered.

The experience left me wondering about all the other "little lies" that shape or rather, mis-shape my character: Lies about my good intentions ("This time will be different"), lies about diet and nutrition ("Really need to start that new regimen--tomorrow") lies about money ("One more credit card purchase can't hurt"), lies about...

On Sunday, we'll come face-to-face with one of the saltiest of the prophets, Amos, who proclaimed God was dropping a plumb line into the life of Israel (Amos 7:7-9). What was straight and right and true would stand; what was warped and twisted was destined to fall.

Plumb lines, atomic clocks, and yes, Jesus, proclaim there are certain, unerring truths that define our lives whether we like it or not. I don't like that rule, but as my five-minutes- late worship caper proves, I am stuck with it. A loving God long ago decided, "The truth shall set you free" (John 8:32). The only play we get to make is deciding when to fess up and find the true freedom our lies can never give.

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