Letters From the Field: Lenten Letter No.2

Letters From the Field

Monday, February 18, 2008: Lenten Letter No.2

Love, Most Terrifying

“There is no fear in love;…perfect love casts out fear…fear involves torment…those who fear have not been made perfect in love…”
I John 4:18.

Wow! What a statement; what a standard! And yet, if I believe that this is the “Word of God, for the People of God,” I must accept -- and live by -- this amazing claim.

At first glance, I am inclined to sympathize with those people who walked away from Jesus when he declared, “my flesh is real food; my blood is real drink” (John 6:55, NIV). They were shocked and dismayed. “This is a hard teaching; who can accept it?” (Verses 60 and 66).

Yes, who indeed!

I don’t know how many people I have come across during my “short stay on this small planet” who complain that the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth are too difficult, too impractical. “Who in the world could possibly live up to so high a standard? Why, don’t you know that if you tried to live the way this man taught, you’d soon fall prey to every trickster you’d come across? You’d be gobbled up like a lamb in a lions’ den!”

Still, these are the things the “Man” from Galilee requires.

I suppose I could burden my readers with detailed descriptions and meanings of the word “perfect.” I will spare you, because you get what Jesus and his closest human associates were getting at: If this way of life is to make any useful impact in your life---and the lives of others---the followers of the Christ must totally commit themselves to the essence of his teaching; they must be totally overwhelmed and refashioned by love. As appealing as love sounds, such utter devotion is, to say the least, a terrifying prospect for most of us.

There is a funny thing about human nature. We seem to love ruts. Even when we sense our old routines are getting us nowhere, we are more comfortable staying put. A friend of mine once put it this way: instead of climbing out of our ruts, we upholster them to make them more comfortable! “What, leave my beautifully-decorated trench and climb up into a new way? You must be joking!”

Of course, a sea-change requires faith. That is something, however, that the “Master of the Sea” is more than willing to offer…BUT…ya gotta let go of your fear and take a big bite of that “flesh” and take a big gulp of that “blood.”

Since this is Lent, most people are thinking of not eating or drinking something.
Yet here is an invitation to do just the opposite. Gorge yourselves on love which is the active, outgoing concern for your neighbors as well as yourself. Drink to the full of the spirit of living sacrifice.

Oh yes, these forms of sustenance may seem a bit unusual, even frightening, but, as I’m finding out, this unusual food is most refreshing.

In my last letter, I hinted at trying a bit more transparency on for size. This project I’ve started forces me to give up being afraid and making a real attempt to be of service by sharing my thoughts and experiences. I know I’ve always wanted to try my hand at this sort of thing. Stepping out into the real world, away from the comforts and certainty of my parents’ care, put me full force into the stormy seas of adult life. For a long time, the cares of this world caused me to back away from boldness. It wasn’t always that way, though.

When I was a child of about six or seven, my father’s mother asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up. Without a moment’s hesitation, I declared, “When I get grown, I’m gonna have me a television show! And it’s gonna be called ‘Tell It Like It Is!’” Oh, to have that confidence again!

An honest peeling away of all facades will show a man who is often crippled by fears, worries and doubts. Yet my true Master has called me to take hold of a new confidence. No, I haven’t been offered a spot on television (at least, not yet). I have rather been offered an opportunity to use some of the spiritual gifts I have been given. And you know, what? This business of casting out my fear doesn’t taste as bad as I…uh…feared!

And, much to my surprise, that “ love most terrifying” is becoming slightly more comfortable. I can see more and more that I can trust in the One who inspired the Psalmist to write, “Oh taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the one who trusts in Him!” (Psalm 34:8)

Peace to you all,

W. Arthur Herring, Jr.

Letters From the Field: Lenten Letter No. 1

One of my spiritual gifts is mining God's fields for spiritual gifts in others.

Here you will find the first in a series of Lenten Letters

from a gifted writer at Calvary UMC~ Arthur Herring!

I hope you will check here weekly for updates on

"Letters From the Field."

Encourage him to let his light shine

by sharing your comments.

To God be the glory!

Shalom.

Pastor Laurie <><


Letters From the Field
Monday, February 11, 2008: Lenten Letter No.1

Essay writing can be considered a dangerous sport. To tell the world precisely what you think is risky. Still, I am compelled to take my chances. I want to share my thoughts, experiences, and observations. Why? The reason is quite simple: I believe it is my God-given responsibility to do so.

Communication is an important part of all our lives. Open, honest discussion is also part of our calling. Our Creator expects us to help one another by sharing what we have come to know. To borrow and slightly alter a quote from writer Georges Sand, “We don’t communicate because we want to; we communicate because we must.”

Some of us, however, feel an extraordinary urge to do so. I am one of those people. For most of my life, I have believed, as I have often been told, God has given me a gift in this regard.

Yet, for a long, wasteful while, I was afraid to speak openly. I used to fell prey to every “reason” and excuse in the book. Finally, after years of divorcing my purest hopes from reality ( a truly dangerous habit for a person of faith), I have come to see the wisdom of one of my own sayings : There are no grater cowards than those who do not live by their sincerest convictions. If we are convicted, we must follow up with commitment.

Most of you are no doubt familiar with the account of Moses returning from Sinai wearing some of the radiance of God that had “rubbed off” on him. The terrified Israelites didn’t quite know what to make of that, so Moses wore a veil so as to hide that glory and calm their fears. Now fast forward a few thousand years.

Followers of Jesus, however, are told by the Master Himself to uncover their light---their bit of God’s glory. This glory was not rubbed off. It was applied to our minds deliberately. It was the Giver’s intention that our gifts be just as deliberately displayed.

Yet, Jesus has to remind His followers of this, precisely because the tendency is for us to hide from the light---even though we know the light will make us glorious---even while we secretly long to be glorious.

Why is this?

Light exposes as thoroughly as it glorifies. When you openly present yourself to others, you also expose your faults and weaknesses. Oh yes, it’s wonderful to have people praise you when you get it right, but nobody loves having their weaknesses laid bare. Still God calls us to the light even as He calls us to let our light shine. He knows that even as our faults are made plain, His strength will be made perfect in that same state of imperfection.

I admit, that is not a part of my calling that I relish. Like the Israelites of old, I too, have been more comfortable having the radiance shed upon me covered with a veil. The problem is that a veil doesn’t go with my new outfit!

You see, awhile back, God issued me a challenge. “Try wearing something a little more transparent,” He said. “Don’t worry about your ashy legs showing. I have some Oil that will take care of that! But you won’t get it ‘til you put on the garments I have made just for you!”

Those garments are the clothes of a writer. The Oil is the inspiration of the Spirit, given to get the gears of my mind running more smoothly. The challenge came through Laurie. She urged me to take a bold step and start doing the work I had been dreaming of.

So here it is, the response to her challenge, the first of six essays in a series I’ll call Letters From the Field. These six will be called “The Lenten Letters.”

It is my hope and prayer that these writings will entertain, enlighten, and inspire you. If they do, please let me know. Then I’ll be inspired to do more to help you let your light shine.

Peace to you all,
W. Arthur Herring, Jr.