Letters From the Field: A Useful Fear?

Letters From the Field
Monday, March 3, 2008: Lenten Letter No. 4

A Useful Fear? Part Two

I ended my previous letter with a promise to revisit a scripture used in an earlier message. That scripture is 1John 4: 18: “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear…but he who fears has not been made perfect in love.”

On the surface, it looks as if we are being held to an impossible, unreasonable standard. “No fear” is both. We are material, mortal. Because of that, there are many things which threaten our continued existence. Hence, it is reasonable, necessary, and natural to have some fear.

Now, I don’t want to be accused of trying to rewrite the Bible, but experience tells me that it is always wise to be ready and able to put things in other, perhaps clearer words. For most people, believer or no, traditional biblical language can be confusing. Since the Bible makes some pretty impressive claims, it has tended to get the attention of a great many people. Some of those people tend to believe those claims, at least in essence. I am one of those persons and, probably, if you find my Letters interesting, you are too. We can agree that any level of a deeper understanding of the ideas contained in that “old book,” as Thoreau referred to the Bible, is important as well as useful. So it is in that spirit that I offer the following thoughts.

If we take another look at 1John 4:18 and insert the idea that an excess of fear is irrational and not of God, we could read the passage this way: “There is no reason to be overwhelmed by fear if we are given over to love, that is, if we are mutually devoted to each others’ care. One is tormented by the prospect of dreadful things, but that state of mind does not rule those who are totally confident that they can receive and give love.”

Consider this. When you love someone (and you are convinced that they love you), the idea that they will hurt of torment you doesn’t even cross your mind. When you feel an overarching sense of dread, you also feel threatened. You are not so sure everyone has your best interest in mind. Simply put, John is saying---as did Moses (Lev.19: 18, Deut. 6:15), Paul (1Cor. 13), and Jesus himself (Mark 12: 30-31)---that love, the utter devotion to each others’ care and well-being, is the solution to all our fears and worries.

And why should humans not extend that same love to God their Creator, the One who makes all opportunity for life and love possible? Is it really too much of a stretch to translate the phrase “fear the LORD” as “hate the very idea of hurting or upsetting God”? Just as we would have compassion on our neighbors and ourselves, can we not have compassion for God? Think how you would feel if someone betrayed your loving care. Think how you would feel if you realized you had just broken someone’s heart. Extend those tender mercies to God! To do so makes the circle complete! To do so is to set the stage for such a downpour of love as to wash away a universe of hurt and pain. In fact, according to John, that is exactly what God has in mind (Rev. 21: 1-5, esp. verse 5)!

So let us pursue this “fear of the LORD,” our “compassion for God,” the wise counsel to avoid our ruin. Let us give up the fear that causes torment.

Peace to you all,

W. Arthur Herring, Jr.

Letters From the Field

February 25, 2008:

Lenten Letter No. 3

A Useful Fear? Part One

When I took on the challenge of writing these “Lenten Letters,” I thought I should more completely follow in the tradition of Lenten observance by committing myself to giving up something. I said I would “try a bit of transparency for a change.” Instead of keeping my darker side cloaked, I would reveal it…in hope that something useful might be offered to my readers. Often, revealing bad experiences and examining bad habits can yield good things.

I suppose it should be clear by now that I find fear to be a major stumbling block. It has been my persistent “demon,” using every available opportunity to distract and discourage me. Yet demons are not all-powerful. God, on the other hand, is all-powerful. Fortunately for us, our Father isn’t stingy with His power. Freely He offers it to us to use in our constant struggle against evil and error ( 2 Corinthians 10: 5, The Message).

Still, despite its destructive possibility, fear is actually not an evil thing of and by itself. Used properly, it can actually be one of the “God-tools” mentioned above.

“Now whoa!” you might say, “Didn’t you just describe fear as a ‘demon’? How can a demon be a God-given tool?” Well, before I go further, let me take a little time to clarify.

Some time ago, when I was struggling with doubts and worries, a thought occurred to me: “Let fear be a counselor, not a king.” In other, less poetic words, let a rational fear help your decision-making, but don’t allow it to take over.


Now, back to the “demon” analogy.

Recall that demons were once useful, helpful, and happy entities. They became evil after they began to seek more dominance than God had granted to them (Jude 1: 6). Likewise, fear (which was given to us by our Creator---for our own protection) can become problematic if it is not managed properly, if it is allowed to get out of control.

No doubt many of us have seen the bumper stickers that read “No Fear.” On the surface, that sounds like a desirable state to be in. However, we should stop and think: if we had absolutely no fear at all, we’d probably find ourselves doing some pretty stupid, if not indeed deadly, things. Because we are mortal, that is, able to die, it makes sense to be careful about what we do. God expects us to be careful with the bodies we were given (1Cor. 3:16-17). Since He is making us into something indescribably great (1Cor. 15:49), it is all the more important that we not take foolish, thoughtless risks ( Luke 4: 9-12).

This, I think, is one reason why we are told “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom.” I don’t think this scripture is telling us that God wants us to be being afraid of Him. Rather, I think the psalmist and the proverb-maker is trying to say that He gives us a rational sense of fear. In other words, we are to have a sensible apprehension. This mindset makes us more receptive to wisdom. Thus it is a gift of God, an important tool in our effort to “grow in grace and knowledge.”

I have always been the sort of person who just can’t know enough. I have always loved to learn. The very process of asking questions and going after the answers excites me .

I suppose that is another reason I am dwelling on this subject of fear. The very process of asking questions and going after the answers excites me .

I suppose that is another reason I am dwelling on this subject of fear. Yes, it has caused me a lot of trouble over the years. Still, by focusing on that subject, I find myself learning more about how to deal with it.

Fear is a natural part of our lives that can help or harm us. As I’ve tried to point out, I believe there is a Godly sort of fear, a fear that can actually be useful. In my next Letter, I want to take a second look at a scripture I used in an earlier piece. I hope I can share with you some of the joy I am finding as I am learning that I need not be either enslaved to or afraid of fear.

Peace to you all,

W. Arthur Herring, Jr.

All Children Need a Laptop

I was honored to be invited to la fiesta del cumpleanos del abuelo - grandpa's birthday party - with the extended family next door. Beautiful people who fled the tragedy we Americans helped to create in El Salvador more than a decade ago. The grandparents are hardworking proud landowners who have seen too many loved ones disappear and find them floating days later in the river. The next generation are hardworking proud homeowners who seek to make a new life for their children here while holding fast to the values and visions of the old.

I see a prototype of Calvary in this passing on of values and vision. We have elders who remember the glory of this church in days gone by. And we have young ones who dream new dreams of a day yet to be. When we celebrate and remember who we are, we rejoice mostly in Whose we are -- and that we belong.

One of the blessings of this large Salvadoran family is the way they care for one another. The many adult sisters touch each other so lovingly, rubbing a pregnant tummy, stroking black silken hair, leaning on each other as they laugh and talk. They outdo one another in showing hospitality, bringing sopa and tortillas, limons, pollo - especially honoring mama y papa.

What really impressed me was the way they love their children - all their children. It was unclear to me which happy ninos belonged to which parents. They obviously all belonged to them all. Little ones climbed on any lap, leaned against any breast, received food from any hand.

Some say it takes a village to raise a child. Jesus said, "Let the little ones come to me, for to such belongs the realm of God!" We say, let the church be the body of Christ. (Have you read Nicole's mothering thanks in the March newsletter?)

My Starbucks cup says it this way (The Way I See It #273):

All children need a laptop.
Not a computer, but a human laptop.
Mom, dads, grannies and grandpas, aunts, uncles --
someone to hold them, read to them, teach them.
Loved ones who will embrace them
and pass on the experience, rituals and
knowledge of a hundred previous generations.
Loved ones who will pass to the next generation
their expectations of them,
their hopes, and
their dreams.

~ General Colin L. Powell
Founder of America's Promise -

The Alliance for Youth

First time I've ever felt left out at the Lord's table

Flo Johnston, Correspondent

Once I almost got thrown out of a storefront church because I couldn't produce a business card and nobody could vouch for me. Describing the details of this event makes a pretty good yarn, one I usually tell when I'm invited to speak to a group about the religion beat in Durham.

Last Sunday, I had an experience that was yet another first in my almost 25 years as a religion writer in the Bull City.

Along with my friend and neighbor Elizabeth Severance, a retired Presbyterian hospital chaplain, I visited a church for the first time. Visiting is something I do often and, since both of us are Presbyterians and she's a preacher, Elizabeth is a good one to go church-hopping with.

Our destination was First Reformed Presbyterian, a relative newcomer to Trinity Park. These Presbyterians bought the building previously occupied by St. Barbara Greek Orthodox at 1316 Watts St. The congregation is about eight years old and had previously met in a hotel in Research Triangle Park.

The pastor, the Rev. Ian Wise, told me in a phone interview a couple of weeks ago that the church holds to old traditions. The most conspicuous, he said, is singing the Psalms a capella, a practice that dates back to Scotland. He said the church has a strong focus on Scripture and the importance of preaching. His sermons, he said, are usually about 40 minutes long. The one last Sunday titled "Calling Us Back," with the text from Galatians 5:7-12, was right on target time-wise.

Wise is a talented speaker and his sermon was a careful explanation of the Scripture in which St. Paul lays a few carefully chosen words on the church at Galatia for having strayed from what he taught them. The praying and preaching were familiar to my Presbyterian ears.

The surprise came during Holy Communion. The table in front looked familiar enough with a loaf of bread and trays of small glasses -- wine in the center glasses and grape juice along the outside rows. The pastor spoke extemporaneously, leaving me wondering if Reformed Presbyterians have no prescribed liturgy for the sacrament. And in a departure from the practice in other Presbyterian churches, he offered no invitation to the table, nor prayers of thanksgiving or confession. He and one elder, Erich Baum, distributed the elements to the congregation.

When the pastor failed to stop at our row with the bread, I thought it could be an oversight, but when he moved up the aisle and did not offer us the cup, suddenly I knew: We had been excluded. At that moment I knew what it felt like to be ostracized, left out. I also felt indignant.

We sang another Psalm, got a blessing from the pastor who then moved into making announcements in which he welcomed visitors and invited all to a fellowship meal at noon. When he took a breath and paused, Elizabeth stood up and said, "Am I to understand that we as baptized people in good standing in the church are not allowed to partake of Holy Communion at the table of our Lord Jesus Christ? This is against the teachings of Jesus. I am offended."
That covered it all, but I added that his invitation to share the fellowship meal hit me as a feeble attempt to gloss over our having just been turned away from the Lord's table.

The pastor told us he would talk with us later.

And he did. Standing in the aisle, he explained that to take communion in this church, one must be deemed "worthy" beforehand, and that this happens when an elder (an elected man in the congregation) talks with you about your Christian experience or hears your testimony.

I was vaguely familiar with this idea since I recalled from church history that Presbyterians had used communion tokens during a bygone era. The history museum at the Presbyterian conference center in Montreat has a large collection of tokens that were given to those who were deemed worthy, to be turned in when the individual stepped up to partake of the body and blood of Christ.

One reason Sunday's experience hit me so hard is that Presbyterian pastors from the past and my present pastor at First Presbyterian, Joe Harvard, have always given an invitation to the communion table. Harvard always says, "This is not a Presbyterian table, but the Lord's table."

In recent years, I have begun to understand that Holy Communion is above all a joyful feast and that I don't have to feel "holy" to take part. In fact, I have come to appreciate the idea (learned from Gayle Felton, co-pastor at Calvary United Methodist and former Duke Divinity School professor) that this part of worship is not so much what I do or what I feel, but what God does. Instead of coming to the table because I feel worthy, I need to come because I feel unworthy.

Over the years, I have shared this meal in mainline and nondenominational churches across this city and have been blessed by their welcome. Most of all, I have learned how to appreciate the sometimes minor, sometimes major differences in the way churches conduct this sacrament.

I am thankful churches have freedom to worship as they choose. But I do have a suggestion for Reformed Presbyterians. Why not explain the policy as part of the communion liturgy, or at least put a note in the bulletin saying that pre-authorization is necessary? I have no problem with churches that promote theological ideas I do not embrace; I do have a problem with exclusion from what even Reformed Presbyterians call "the Lord's table."

Elizabeth, a Duke Divinity School graduate who has baptized and served communion to broken and dying people in hospitals, does not agree that an explanation could help set this church's position right. She contends that no Christian church has the right to exclude anyone from the communion table, that the Bible and the teachings of Jesus make this perfectly clear.

For those who want to experience this church, worship is held on Sundays at 10:30 a.m. and 1:30 p.m. with a fellowship lunch at noon.

fjohnston3@nc.rr.com

© Copyright March 1, 2008, The News & Observer Publishing Company
A subsidiary of The McClatchy Company


Note: Flo and Elizabeth are occasionally visitors to Calvary. And Elizabeth spent many months as our interim Organist and Choir Director.

How about you....? Ever felt excluded? Kept away from God's Welcome Table? Do tell!
This article (including its allusion to our guru Gayle!) was a stimulus for good theology and sharing at Calvary Young Adults after the Communion and Healing Service today. Such wisdom, born of heartbreak....

Praying When You Don't Know the Words

"Teach us to pray," the disciples implored.
And Brother Jesus taught them about prayer as relationship:
Our Father, he said, Abba Daddy -- not Awesome Deity on High.
Our Father... meaning mine and yours together, we who are family.

Are you learning to relate to God this way?

Our own Dawn Dreyer is immersed in Quakerism this sabbath year near Philadelphia. "It makes me love Calvary all the more," she writes. She sent us a poem from a course she presented called "Exploring Prayer." Maybe you can relate....


Before I Knew How to Pray
For Calvary United Methodist Church, Durham NC

God whispers to me
“I am here.”
I cannot hear God
over my own screaming.
But I know God is speaking to me
by the way I cry in church.
No dainty tears
or pretty, glistening eyes.
But shaky, snotty sobs.
How did my church
know to leave me alone
with God?
I could feel their love,
tangible as rain,
but they let me alone,
trembling in the pew.
Did they know that my tears were
living water,
embodied hope,
all I knew of Him?

~ Dawn Dreyer
Artist in Residence
Pendle Hill Retreat Center

www.pendlehill.org