Notes From Jon

A few years ago, when we lived in Birmingham, Tanya and I watched with interest as the concern about global warming came to the world’s attention.  We took it for granted that this was a fact, and apparently everyone else around us did, too.  Businesses in Birmingham started “going green,” and there was an increased emphasis on things like recycling, water and energy conservation, and decreasing ozone emissions.  We jumped right in – it was the “in” thing to do.

Then we moved here, and assumed that things were the same.  But they weren’t.  We tried to recycle, but there were no facilities within reasonable driving distance (fortunately there’s one nearby now).  We were concerned about conserving water and energy, but it didn’t seem that anyone else was.  Things like ride-sharing, car-pooling, and selecting times to mow your yard… these things are simply not a priority out here.

Why conserve in a place like this?  After all, we use much less electricity and water than our nearby urban neighbors!  We don’t have any mega-businesses that process thousands of pounds of paper a day.  Volunteers (or inmates) keep our roadsides clean of trash.  And ozone emissions are far from the minds of folks who don’t have to experience everyday the realities of smog and air pollution.

Come out to Southside Virginia and you’ll see what I mean.  Take the drive we usually make to Wal-Mart or into Richmond.  Seeing beautiful countryside like this everyday makes it hard to believe that our environment might be in trouble.

And because of that, we frequently encounter attitudes that are indifferent – if not downright hostile – to any kind of “green” activities.  Global warming is a hoax, some claim, and say that all this “green” stuff is useless… especially out here in the country.

So does “going green” make a difference in rural, small-town communities?  After all, many of these folks have been “green” for a long time – relying on agriculture and nature for their livelihood, it’s in their best interests to make sure they take care of some of those necessary things.  Talk about recycling – any farmer knows you have to “recycle” the land by leaving it fallow sometimes.  Conservation seems only natural when we’re in drought and the crops aren’t getting enough water!

But there’s so much more to taking care of the world than just doing what benefits us directly.  And that mindset – “We’re a small town and don’t contribute much to the problem… why does it matter if we’re ‘green’?” – can be used to excuse almost anything.  “I only have one vote… why does it matter if I vote?”  “I’m not tithing on a million dollars or anything… why does it matter if I give?”  “We’re just one household in a few billion… why does it matter if we recycle?”

It matters.  It always does.  Usually when we talk about how insignificant our contribution to something might be, we are trying to excuse ourselves of some responsibility that inconveniences us.

While I breathe deeply and say a prayer of thanks each time I notice the beautiful scenery on our country roads, I sometimes feel my breath catch with fear.  I know that, global warming notwithstanding, if things continue the way they are, even these beautiful scenes will one day be erased.  Melting ice caps may or may not be a reality – but as the cities expand, as people look for quieter places to live, and as our global society changes, things like trash, smog, and energy shortages will someday be as common in Lunenburg county as they are in third-world mega-cities.

The science of global warming, while persuasive, is still far from being solid fact.  But that doesn’t matter – stewardship is a fact of life for Christians, and (like it or not) the world is something we’ve been made stewards of.  From the very beginning, the greatest resource entrusted to human beings was not money, not precious minerals, not vast oil fields… but creation itself.  We were placed here to “care for it and maintain” the earth (Genesis 2:15), not simply to use it to our own devices.  Jesus didn’t explicitly speak to global warming, but I cannot imagine that he would come to our polluted planet today, and not be appalled at the waste and misuse we inflict on it.

So earth stewardship is the oldest of all stewardships.  It’s not our only task, and maybe not our foremost, but it is certainly our oldest.  And now that we’re aware and able to be better stewards of our world, we simply must.  It’s not a suggestion, or something we can decide to do later when it looks like things really are getting worse.  It’s a command for the here, the now.  It’s not simply a political command, or a corporate one.  It’s a spiritual and personal command – “take care of what you’ve been given, or even what you have will be taken away.” **

For more information on how the Bible speaks to earth stewardship and how Christians can do our part, go to the new website set up by the Baptist Center for Ethics – www.thegreenbible.org.

** – A free paraphrase of Jesus’ moral of the Parable of the Talents.  See Matthew 25:14-30 for one record of this parable.

The Shepherd Who Follows Us
John 10:1-10, Psalm 23, Luke 15:1-7

One of my rules in preaching is to always use my own stories – I know that if I can connect a message with something in my life, then it’s more likely to connect to you too.  But rules are made to be broken, and this is one of those occasions.  I’m indebted to a church member who sent me the following touching story over email, that directly relates to our topic this morning:

A mom was concerned about her kindergarten daughter walking to school. She didn’t want her mother to walk with her. She wanted to give her the feeling that she had some independence but yet know that she was safe. So she had an idea of how to handle it.

She asked a neighbor, Mrs. Goodnest, if she would please follow her to school in the mornings, staying at a distance, so she probably wouldn’t notice her. Mrs. Goodnest said that since she was up early with her toddler anyway, it would be a good way for them to get some exercise as well, so she agreed. Read the rest of this entry »

I published these columns in the KV-Dispatch as a two-part series during March.

(Part 1)

When I first moved to Kenbridge two and a half years ago, I discovered an interesting phenomenon: Nearly everything here has two names.  Roads, homes, buildings, stores – everything has a “published” name.  But then there’s the “real” name of things, which usually is what that place or thing was called at some point in the past.  It’s a name that still exists in the social memory, a name that is stronger than any current attachments.  There’s no sign out front to announce these “real” names, but nearly everyone knows what they are.

I’ll give you some examples from here in Kenbridge (no one’s filled me in on the secret names in Victoria, yet).  The grocery store up the road?  Sure, the sign says “Farmer’s Foods,” but most everyone still calls it “Bill’s.”  When I ask someone for directions, sometimes I’ll get something like, “you take the turn after the bridge,” “over by the charcoal plant,” or “past the handle factory,” places that no longer exist or that are now used for other purposes.  For many decades, the roads around here had no names, only numbers; so on occasion someone will begin giving directions using numbers instead of street names.  The Clarke family lives just up the road from us in a house that has three names, none of which describe the current owners – the Blackwell House, the Bed-and-Breakfast, or the “Porcelain Pond.”

If you’re a native “Lunenburger,” you’re smiling.  If you’ve come here from somewhere else or if you’ve ever moved to a small town, you’re nodding in agreement.  If you haven’t, you’re probably scratching your head.

While this practice certainly honors the long history of the “Mother of Counties” and of her communities, I believe it also serves as a mirror showing us who we are today.  All these places live “in between” identities.  They haven’t quite shed the history of the old name or its meaning, but they haven’t quite discovered (or lived into) their new name, either.

I think our county and communities are in a similar place.  Once a thriving center for tobacco and railroad traffic, Lunenburg County is now in an “in between” place – not what we used to be, but not having discovered our new identity, either.  We can look at this predicament in one of two ways – the end of a dead-end street, or a crossroads with a new opportunity to define ourselves.

As I reflected on this, I was reminded of a few people of faith who were given new names to live into.  Abram, Sarai, Jacob, Simon, all were given new names by God – names they had to gradually live into.  As we read their stories in the scripture, we find them “in between” identities.  For example, Abram, the son of an “exalted father,” became Abraham, the “father of a multitude,” even though he didn’t yet have a single child to pass on the family name.

God knew what these men and women could become, and gave them names that they would eventually fulfill.  But what if Abram got so stuck in dwelling on his childless past that he’d never moved forward in faith?  What if Simon had decided he liked his old name better than “Peter?”  Names don’t assign our identity, any more than your name defined who you were from the moment you were born.  No, identity is discovered and chosen – or rejected.

Are we bold enough to accept a “new name” for our community?  I’m not talking about renaming the county or the towns.  I mean, are we willing to dream of what we could become – a dream big enough to reshape our identity?  It’s not unheard of – communities all around our nation and world are having to re-dream their identities in light of our rapidly changing planet.  Old industries have been replaced by newer ones, the internet has made it easy to “travel” around the globe in less than a second, the cities are creeping into the country, and the people of the world are literally at our doorstep.  In a world that changes this rapidly, either we will have to define our own new identity… or it will be defined for us.

To be continued…

(Part 2)

Two weeks ago my column was about identity, and how the identity of our county is changing – whether we’re ready or not.  Every place here, to an “outsider,” has at least two names: the name of what that place is now, and at least one name of what that place used to be.  Maybe one day, the Blackwell House will be called the “Clarke House” and people really will call the grocery store “Farmer’s Foods.”  Until then, all those places are “in-between,” just waiting to assume their new identity… just Like Lunenburg County is waiting today.

Lunenburg is in a time of change – that dreaded word that so many of us fear.  And the fact is, change is not something we have to decide “for” or “against.”  It’s inevitable.  Change is a part of life – we’re changing from the moment we’re born, and we don’t stop changing until we die.  So our real question is not, “do we change?” but rather, “what will we do with this change?”

Last time, we looked at biblical characters like Abram, Jacob and Simon – each of whom was given a new name by God.  Even though Simon was renamed Peter – “the Rock” – just a new name was not enough to transform Simon’s very strong character.  If we didn’t know the end of the story, we might be tempted to think of Peter as a weakness in Jesus’ plan, not a strength!

But Jesus knew Peter intimately, and where others might have seen a weakness, Jesus saw hidden strengths.  Others saw stubbornness; Jesus saw the tenacity Peter would need in the face of persecution.  Others saw impulsiveness; Jesus saw a quick mind and an ability to adapt.  Others saw brashness; Jesus saw courage and boldness that would make Peter an effective preacher.  The attributes that made Peter such a strong leader were already present.  Jesus simply gave Simon a new name that reflected the best of the strengths God had given him, and challenged Peter to become the leader God was shaping him to be.

What strengths do we have as a small-town, rural community?  What things can we claim that other counties cannot?  It’s easy to start dwelling on the weaknesses – we’ve lost a lot of industry, and tobacco isn’t what it used to be.  Our economy isn’t as strong as it once was, and poverty is too common (and often overlooked).  And there are still many walls that keep us apart – walls between races, towns, and families.  But if we focus on these things, we’ve missed the strengths that make Lunenburg such a wonderful community!

Several of those strengths come immediately to mind:  Lunenburg, the “Mother of Counties,” has a proud history that no one else can claim.  The “Old Free State” has always had a strong (i.e., “stubborn”) and fiercely independent spirit, ready to go new directions while others lingered behind.  The pace of life here is a refreshing change from the hectic bustle of the city.  The air is clean and clear (most of the time!), and it’s a quiet and safe place to live and to have a family.  I’ve only lived here a little more than two years, and I recognize these strengths; you can probably think of many more.

A new identity for Lunenburg and her towns doesn’t have to be handed down from the capitol building in Richmond.  It doesn’t have to be re-invented from the ground up.  Our new identity is already present, in all the things that make Lunenburg a great place to live, work and worship.

What is that new identity?  I don’t know, but I think God does.  And I think it’s something the citizens of Lunenburg can discover together – if we’re “brash” enough to dream, “impulsive” enough to tear down walls and work together, and “stubborn” enough to endure a few bumps in the road along the way.

Jon Parks is pastor of Kenbridge Baptist Church.  He welcomes your thoughts about these matters, and suggestions for issues to write about in the future.  He can be contacted by email at jon@kenbridgebaptist.org, or by postal mail at P.O. Box 445, Kenbridge, VA 23944.

My sermon on doubt a couple of Sundays ago has sparked some interesting conversations with church members in the last few days.  I was pleasantly surprised to see that my friend Jim Evans wrote a column about doubt last week.  Jim was my pastor at Crosscreek Baptist when I was in Birmingham.  He is an excellent writer, and publishes articles regularly in several Alabama newspapers and Christian Magazines and news services.   Besides that, he’s a good friend, he married Tanya and I, and served as a mentor to me (both formally and informally) as I explored my calling in seminary.

You can read the article yourself (follow the link above), but here’s the final few sentences that said what I wanted to say in my sermon.  He always has a way of saying it better!

Doubt is not the opposite of faith. Certitude is the opposite of faith. Doubt is an essential human quality that keeps us from being tricked into thinking we know what in fact cannot be known. We can have faith in God, but as humans we are incapable of grasping the totality of who God is.

A little healthy doubt keeps us honest and humble.

I hesitate even to put this sermon online.  Sometimes, I do a sermon that is more experiential than informational, and this was one of those. Those sermons are better heard than read, but I know that some folks can’t hear them so I figure they’re worth putting up… even if they don’t seem complete.

Yesterday was communion Sunday, and the Lectionary reading was the story of the disciples on the Emmaus Road.  That’s always been a powerful passage for me when linked to communion, because they recognized Jesus “in the breaking of bread.”

As we began, I asked the congregation to sit in silence for a few moments and call to mind a challenge that they currently face – some problem, anxiety, grief, something that felt as though nothing could stop it.

I always invite and encourage comments on the things I write!  If you have any comments, please look at the bottom of this page, and see the comment box there.

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In Remembrance
Luke 24:13-35
John 21:1-14

Have you ever been in a time of deep grief or anxiety?  Can you remember how that felt – to be in a place where it felt like God would not come to your rescue?  When we get deep into times like that, it seems like we can’t even remember what life was like without that challenge.  We try to remember that loved person’s face, their voice.  We try to remember when life was under control, when things were right.  But while it’s nice to have memories, sometimes it seems like memory is just not very useful or powerful.

All these people (in the passages we’ve read) were in a difficult time like that.  It wasn’t like in losing Jesus that they had just lost a good friend.  Jesus was their master, their teacher.  He had been a leader to them for months and years.  And they had come to believe he was special – that he was the messiah, even though they didn’t yet know what that meant.

Psychologists rate our experiences of loss and stress on a scale, with loss of a spouse and loss of a job being right at the top.  They didn’t have a ranking for this kind of loss… and I imagine it would be close to the top as well. Read the rest of this entry »

Poor Thomas
Luke 24:36-43 and all of John chapter 20
Sermon for Second Sunday of Easter (A)
March 30, 2008

One of my goals in preaching is clarity – making sure that by the end of my message, what I’m saying has been clearly conveyed. Realizing of course that clarity depends partially on the one who’s hearing as well as the one who’s speaking, I work to make sure my presentation is easy to follow and understand, keeps the attention, and doesn’t try to fit in too many different ideas at once.

Sometimes I feel I do pretty well. Other times I don’t, and this past Sunday was one of those times. So what I’m doing now is trying to clarify. I apologize for not being as thoughtful about this sermon as I usually am. But I’m not taking back anything that I said. I simply want to make my own thoughts a little clearer.

So what follows is an expanded and (hopefully) clearer version of the sermon I preached on Sunday.

—

Introduction – Poor Mr. Thomas

Before I read the scriptures for the message, I want to play a little game. It’s called “word association.” Psychologists use it all the time to get at our deepest thoughts, but I want to use it this morning to prove a theory.

I’m going to say a disciple’s name, and I want you to call out the first thing that comes to mind when I say it:

• Peter [responses included "steady," "denial," "foundation," "great preacher."]
• John [responses: "beloved," "faithful"]
• Matthew ["tax collector," "Levi,"
• Judas ["traitor," "betrayer"]
• Thomas [a resounding "DOUBTER"]

[Here, the scriptures were read]

How many of you have ever “doubted” God? Questioned? What were the circumstances? Look at Mr. Thomas, the disciple. He has been looked down on for centuries because of his doubt – even gaining the nickname “doubting Thomas.” And somewhere along the line we’ve picked up the idea that what Thomas did was wrong.

Read the rest of this entry »