Southwood Lutheran Church

Will You Come and Follow Me

The beautiful hymn “Will You Come and Follow Me” was written by John Bell. John Bell was born in and resides in Scotland. He is a liturgical composer who writes cooperatively with colleagues in Glasgow. He has a deep interest in music from non-European cultures and a passion for song of the Assembly. In May, I had the opportunity to go to a conference in Atlanta, Georgia and hear John Bell present a series of workshops on music and worship. It was a great joy to listen to him lead songs that he has written and witness his passion first hand.

“'Will you come and follow me’ (called ‘The Summons’ in The Faith We Sing) is perhaps the most famous of Mr. Bell’s hymns. The hymn appeared initially in the first collection of music produced by the Wild Goose Worship Group, Heaven Shall Not Wait: Songs of Creation, the Incarnation, and the Life of Jesus (1987). The song asks a series of 13 questions, perhaps a record in the annals of hymnody.

Characteristic of Mr. Bell’s style, the text is prophetic, using many words not usually found in traditional hymns. ‘The Summons’ of Christ is to a radical Christianity. We are challenged to ‘leave yourself behind’ and to ‘risk the hostile stare’ (stanza two), ‘set the prisoner free’ and ‘kiss the leper clean’ (stanza three), and ‘use the faith you’ve found to reshape the world around’ (stanza four).

The tune is a traditional Scottish ballad entitled KELVINGROVE, named after a section of Glasgow. Mr. Bell often uses traditional melodies from Ireland, Scotland and England for his hymns. These tried and true tunes make the songs not only singable, but often provide a Celtic flavor that is popular today.

For Mr. Bell, the purpose for singing is to engage people in a fuller participation in the congregation’s song, stretch their faith and encourage them to live in a manner that reflects justice.”¹

1. Hawn, C. Michael. HISTORY OF HYMNS: Bell’s Scottish hymn gives radical summons. ©2012 UMR Communications, Inc. Date visited: May 20, 2012. http://www.umportal.org/article.asp?id=6012

Reflections on a Sunday Sermon

Use it On Monday, by Michelle DeRusha

Michelle writes a daily blog about finding faith in the everyday at Graceful. On Monday's she reflects on Sunday's sermon in a weekly post entitled "Use it on Monday." She's nice enough to let us re-post it on Southwood's blog. You can read it here each week and then click over to Michelle's blog for more of her writing.

How to Define the Holy Spirit

Nana, my father’s mother, always referred to the Holy Spirit as the “Holy Ghost.” I remember her dipping two fingers into the Holy Water at Holy Cross Church and making the Sign of the Cross, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost” as she touched wet fingers to forehead, heart and shoulders.

Frankly it gave me the creeps.

As a child, I didn’t find any comfort in the thought of a ghost, holy or not. I often imagined it trailing after us, hovering above our heads as we made our way down the center aisle and into the pew. I was always relieved when we exited out the front doors and down the stone steps after Mass. I assumed Nana put the Ghost back when she made the Sign of the Cross again with the Holy Water before stepping into the parking lot. I imagined that the Ghost swirled back into the basin of Holy Water and sloshed around in there until the following Saturday evening, when the swish of two fingers in the cool water released it again.

As I got older the term “Holy Ghost” fell out of favor, replaced by the less threatening but no less baffling Holy Spirit. This was somewhat better. I thought of the Holy Spirit as a benign force, a little bit like an invisible Tinkerbelle or Glenda the Good Witch, spreading goodness, peace and love like fairy dust.

Those were my two impressions of the Holy Spirit: creepy and vaporous or gentle and sweet. So you can imagine my surprise the first time I read the description of the Holy Spirit in Acts 2:

“Suddenly there was a noise from the sky which sounded like a strong wind blowing, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting. Then they saw what looked like tongues of fire which spread out and touched each person there. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to talk in other languages, as the Spirit enabled them to speak.” (Acts 2:2-4).

A noise from the sky? A strong, gusting wind? Tongues of fire? This was not anything like the Holy Spirits I’d imagined in my childhood. This Spirit was powerful, overwhelming, terrifying.

Just imagine, for a moment, what that must have been like for the disciples. Picture the force of a powerful wind, bending trees, kicking up dirt and debris, the grit stinging your eyes and coating your mouth. Picture the flames descending out of nowhere, coming closer, licking the top of your head, your limbs, your hands and feet. Can you imagine the terror…and the awe?

In the presence of such mighty force, there would be no question: you would know unequivocally that you were in the presence of something far beyond normal, something supernatural and awesome.

Although I’m not a kid anymore, I still try to define the Holy Spirit in a way that makes sense to me. I tend to try to box him in, contain him. I try to understand that which cannot be fully understood. I try to define that which cannot be fully defined. Part of me resists the powerful, forceful nature of the Holy Spirit because I am afraid of it – I don’t want to hand over control, to surrender to something so wild and untamed.

Yesterday, on Pentecost Sunday, my dad emailed me a timely devotion written by Franciscan Richard Rohr – a telling and perceptive observation of how many of us, me included, approach the Holy Spirit and what we miss with our narrow definitions and trepidation.

We still wait behind closed doors; fifty days (Pente-cost), fifty years, five hundred years, we are always waiting and hoping, but not really expecting. It is the day we are always waiting for but never prepared for, the day of the great outpouring of fire-laden love, the day that ties all other days together.

Pentecost is actually every day, if we expect it; but, not surprisingly, this is the greatest forgotten major festival of the entire church year. Most come to church expecting no new outpouring, or maybe not even remembering an old one.

Yet it is Pentecost, the day of the great gathering in and the great sending out. The Holy Spirit must get tired of waiting for us, always hiding behind our closed doors (from Radical Grace: Daily Meditations, day 205).

Today, my prayer for me and you is this: May we open ourselves. May we step out of our boxes and from behind closed doors, not merely waiting or hoping for a benign, milk-toast Holy Spirit that fits within the confines of our narrow minds, but recognizing and embracing Him in whatever form He comes. And may we expect, know, that He comes indeed.

How has your perception of the Holy Spirit changed over time?

You can read more of Michelle's writing on her blog Graceful.

 

Spirit, Shine On Us

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. (2 Corinthians 3:17NIV)

This Sunday is Pentecost. On Pentecost we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit to the world, to the church, and to each of us individually. We remember the Holy Spirit is a continued gift that is renewed each day. In addition to singing hymns about God’s Spirit, a small group will share an anthem called “Spirit, Shine on Us.” Included in the anthem is the song “Spirit of the Living God.” Author Debbie Carsten shares these thoughts about that song:

“Imagine being one of Jesus’ disciples when He breathed on them and gave them the Holy Spirit (John 20:22). With Jesus’ breath, the disciples received the power and authority to bring His life to the world. Christ has also given us that authority. Because ‘all Scripture is God-breathed’ (2 Timothy 3:16), we encounter the living Word every time we open the Bible. And God’s Spirit breathes into us as we receive His truth.

This truth, the truth about Jesus, is meant to set us free (John 8:32)! WE become all God wants us to be as we let the Holy Spirit apply His Word to our lives. We break out of old patterns and ways of thinking and are given newness and freshness. The Holy Spirit knows how to use Scripture to melt us, mold us, and set us free.

Instead of being fearful about what God may do in us, we can be assured that HE wants to bring us into new levels of freedom. He wants to melt our resistance to change, mold our desires to higher purposes, fill us with the power to live an abundant life, and use us beyond what we could imagine. All that, and heaven, too!

Look into God’s Word and heed Jesus’ words from John 20: ‘Receive the Holy Spirit’ (John 20:22)”.

 

1. Carsten, Debbie. Open the Eyes of My Heart: Daily Devotions. (Brentwood, TN: Integrity Publishers, 2002.) Pg. 91.

Reflections on a Sunday Sermon

Use it On Monday, by Michelle DeRusha

Michelle writes a daily blog about finding faith in the everyday at Graceful. On Monday's she reflects on Sunday's sermon in a weekly post entitled "Use it on Monday." She's nice enough to let us re-post it on Southwood's blog. You can read it here each week and then click over to Michelle's blog for more of her writing.

Hope in a Text

I’m about to submit my May column to the Lincoln Journal Star. It’s entitled “What I’ve Learned from Not Publishing,” and it’s a positive examination of how I’ve grown spiritually despite – or perhaps because of – the challenges I’ve faced along this writing journey.

I meant every word I wrote, of course, but what I didn’t say was how hopeless it all feels sometimes. There are days when I want to give up. There are days when I see people I respect and love making the kind of progress I yearn for, and I succumb to jealousy and bitterness. There are days, like last week, when I said to my husband at dinner, “Today I feel like I’m at the bottom of a deep well, and I’m trying to drag myself out inch by inch and am getting absolutely nowhere.”

At 8:43 p.m. that same day, as I sat tucked into one end of the couch, Noah on the other end, both of us with our noses buried in our books, I heard my cell phone chime from the depths of my purse. A text. I didn’t jump off the couch to retrieve it. In fact, I forgot about it until the next morning, when I flipped open my phone in the midst of school-morning bedlam to read this, from Jennifer:

“Praying Isaiah 50:4 over you and your writing tonight: ‘The Sovereign Lord has taught {Michelle} what to say, so that she can strengthen the weary.’”

I had spoken to Jennifer earlier that afternoon – on the bottom-of-the-deep-well day. She had called to ask me for advice, and instead ended up listening as I unloaded all my writing and publishing frustrations into her ear.

And then later that night she sent the text, praying encouragement for me.

I thought of Jennifer, the telephone conversation and that text yesterday as we read these verses from Ephesians.

“I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better,” wrote Paul to the Ephesians. “I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you…” (Ephesians 1:17-18).

That phone call? That text at 8:43 p.m.? Jennifer was my Paul that day, encouraging and strengthening me, and reminding me of the hope God has especially for me. She opened the eyes of my heart.

Has anyone been your Paul lately, encouraging you or reminding you that God has a hope planned especially for you?

You can read more of Michelle's writing on her blog Graceful.

 

The Potter's Hand

Yet, O LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. (Isaiah 64:8 NIV)

This Sunday in worship we recognize the many high school seniors who will be graduating soon. We pray God’s blessings on them and hope they will ask God the Potter to mold and direct their paths of faith.

“The story is told of a master pottery maker in Peru. Having heard of the distinct quality of his work, people from all over the world traveled to the outskirts of Lima in search of his unpretentious shop. It was an uncovered, cluttered workspace exposed to the intense rays of the South American sun. As a result of forty years of continuous labor, the potter’s sun-baked skin resembled the dark reddish-brown clay he shaped into beautiful pots and bowls.

What distinguished this artisan’s pottery was a small indentation that every piece boasted. The notch- like feature at first glance might be considered a flaw. But it was not. It was the result of a claw-like digit on the potter’s right hand. He was born with it instead of a thumb. The shriveled stub and its permanent sharp fingernail imprinted the clay as it was fashioned in its final form. What had been a source of endless humiliation as a child had become the signature of success.

Although our Creator’s fashioning hands are not deformed, as He shapes us into His image, the evidence of His fingerprints in our lives render us valuable and priceless in His eyes. Celebrate the worth He sees as He looks at you today.”¹

 

1. Asimakoupoulos, Greg. Give Thanks with a Grateful Heart –Daily Devotions from the Greatest Praise and Worship Songs of All Time (Brentwood, TN: Integrity Publishers. 2002), pg. 113.

Reflections on a Sunday Sermon

Use it On Monday, by Michelle DeRusha

Michelle writes a daily blog about finding faith in the everyday at Graceful. On Monday's she reflects on Sunday's sermon in a weekly post entitled "Use it on Monday." She's nice enough to let us re-post it on Southwood's blog. You can read it here each week and then click over to Michelle's blog for more of her writing.

Even on the Raving Lunatic Days

Would there be anything I could do that would get you to not love me?” Noah asked me the other night as we were tucked under his comforter, watching the pine tree boughs wave against the moon. “No, absolutely nothing,” I assured him. “Even if you did the worst thing you could think of, even if you were in jail for your whole life, I would still love you.”

Yesterday morning, Mother’s Day, Rowan asked me nearly the same question. And I answered the same: “I love you guys every minute, every day, no matter what.”

“Even the lamp day, when you got super mad…did you love me the same that day, too? Or did you maybe love me a little bit less?” Rowan persisted.

Ah yes, the infamous lamp day. Not exactly the parenting moment I wanted to relive during the first 20 minutes of Mother’s Day: the day Rowan hurled a pillow across the living room and broke the lamp, mere hours after my mom had bought me a new lamp to replace the other lamp Rowan had broken more than 8 months before. The day I’d morphed into a maniacal lunatic.

I’d gripped the lamp base white-knuckled in my fist and raised it over my head, shaking it and raving incoherently. My mother stood speechless next to me, paralyzed along with the boys by my bellowing outburst. I ordered the boys to their rooms while I swept up the fragments, ranting about how they’d spend the entire day behind closed doors. My mother followed suit, retreating to the basement guest room as I crashed around the kitchen, slamming the box of fresh donuts into the trashcan and fuming aloud to myself while the boys howled in their bedrooms.

Not exactly indicative of the kind of overflowing love Paul talks about in his letter to the Philippians:

“I pray that your love will overflow more and more, and that you will keep growing in knowledge and understanding.” (Philippians 1:9)

As Pastor Greg preached about how parents must practice sacrificial love, tough love and gracious love, I thought about how much I'd failed as a mother on the lamp day. I thought about how I’d spread fear, how I’d burned with anger, overflowing not with love, but with bitterness and resentment; how I’d epitomized gracelessness.

But as I slumped in the pew, I also thought about the conversation that had taken place in the kitchen on Mother's Day morning, and the answer I’d given Rowan when he asked if I’d loved him less on the lamp day. “Even though I was really mad, and really disappointed about the lamp, and even though I really yelled a lot, I still loved you just as much,” I assured Rowan. “My love wasn’t even a tiny bit less. Love stays the same no matter what.”

My answer seemed to satisfy Rowan as he slurped the remainder of his milky cereal. And you know what? Later, after Pastor Greg's sermon, I realized that my answer applies to me, too. No matter how disappointing my behavior, no matter how God may grieve my raving lunatic lamp days, he still loves me just the same, not even a little bit less. No matter what.

How does God's limitless grace make you feel {especially on those raving lunatic days}?

You can read more of Michelle's writing on her blog Graceful.

 

For the Beauty of the Earth

“Bless the Lord, O my soul, And forget not all His benefits.” (Psalm 103:2 KJV)

Have you ever taken a walk among your blessings? Folliot Pierpoint did. He was feeling discouraged and a friend suggested that he take a walk among his blessings. The list of his many blessings is found in his hymn “For the Beauty of the Earth.” Since this Sunday is Mother’s Day, reflect especially on the blessings of this verse: “For the joy of human love, brother, sister, parent, child . . .”

“One of the delights that we as adults have in being around children is to hear their squeals of pleasure as they observe and discover some ordinary object about them. No doubt our heavenly Father is also pleased when His children take time to observe and appreciate His creation and then to simply express joyous gratitude to Him for His countless blessings. Today’s hymn reminds us of the common blessings of life that many of us often take for granted—the beauties of nature, our parents, family, friends, church. The lyrics then direct our ‘grateful praise’ to God Himself, the giver of every good and perfect gift.”¹

 

1. Osbeck, Kenneth W. Amazing Grace (Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 1990, 2002), pg. 331.

Reflections on a Sunday Sermon

Use it On Monday, by Michelle DeRusha

Michelle writes a daily blog about finding faith in the everyday at Graceful. On Monday's she reflects on Sunday's sermon in a weekly post entitled "Use it on Monday." She's nice enough to let us re-post it on Southwood's blog. You can read it here each week and then click over to Michelle's blog for more of her writing.

The Vine

As Pastor Sara lifts the bread high, the boy in the plaid shorts with the crown of whorled blond hair climbs onto the padded pew. Grabbing his dad’s shirt with one hand, he raises the other hand toward the ceiling, fingers splayed like a small, creamy starfish.

The dad knows what’s next – clearly this is a weekly routine. He lifts the boy until his flip-flops rest on the back of the pew in front of him. Clenching a fist-full of polo shirt, the boy straightens tall and steady, feet firmly planted on the back of the pew, his father’s arm encircling his waist like a lasso. And then the boy watches, steady and solemn, as Pastor Sara lifts the cup of wine toward the sky.

The little boy with the blond hair knows instinctively what I so often forget. He reaches, he climbs, he clings. He rests steady, comfortable and secure in his father’s arms.

He knows and accepts what I can never seem to remember: that apart from his father, he can do nothing.

“Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. “ (John 15:4)

You can read more of Michelle's writing on her blog Graceful.

 

There is a Redeemer

And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever—the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you. (John 14:16-17 NIV)

On Easter Sunday, the Senior Choir sang an arrangement of the hymn, “There is a Redeemer.” It was a powerful way to celebrate that Christ has Risen! The celebration continues during this Easter season.

God deserves our most heartfelt thanks. This song provides the opportunity to express our profound gratitude to God for sending Jesus to us. He didn’t have to. He could have let us live aimless, worthless lives, eventually dying far from Him. He didn’t have to love us; He didn’t have to save us. After all, our sin had hurt Him deeply and separated us from Him eternally.

God knew we were lost. He knew we were hopeless and that the only way to save us would be to do it Himself. So He did that, coming to earth in His Son. Then, when Jesus returned to heaven, He gave us His Holy Spirit. Jesus called Him our “Counselor” who would be with us forever (John 14:16). God did not leave us to our own devices; He left us the Holy Spirit to walk with us and to guide us.

The Holy Spirit empowers us to do Christ’s work on earth—the work of serving, loving, sharing, and helping others enter the kingdom. One day God’s work on earth will be done. On that day, we will rejoice at all that God has done in us and through us for His glory!¹

 

1. Carsten, Debbie. Open the Eyes of My Heart: Daily Devotions. (Brentwood, TN: Integrity Publishers, 2002.) Pg. 21.

Reflections on a Sunday Sermon

Use it On Monday, by Michelle DeRusha

Michelle writes a daily blog about finding faith in the everyday at Graceful. On Monday's she reflects on Sunday's sermon in a weekly post entitled "Use it on Monday." She's nice enough to let us re-post it on Southwood's blog. You can read it here each week and then click over to Michelle's blog for more of her writing.

A Crowd of Witnesses in Real Life

Yesterday was confirmation Sunday at church, and I cried my way through most of the service without a shred of Kleenex in my purse. The young people kneeled straight and tall, white gowns cascading onto altar steps, scarlet carnations pinned to their chests, and as our pastors prayed over them while their parents crowded behind with bowed heads, hands on their shoulders, one word rang in my head: community.

In her sermon, Pastor Sara talked how each of us is surrounded by a “huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith” (Hebrews 12:1) – those who run the race of faith with us, paving the way before us, carrying us along as we grow weary.

“The people who have gone before us and who we spend our time with now help us tell our story,” Sara acknowledged. “The spirit of people both past and present cheer us on in our faith.”

As I listened to Sara I thought about the community of women Deidra, Erin and I hosted in my home on Saturday. Some of these women I know well – friends, colleagues and neighbors – and some I just met for the first time Saturday.

Truthfully, I’d been nervous about hosting this event. In fact, I’d awakened the night before at 3:30 a.m. in a panic. Should I buy flavored creamer? Did I have enough chairs? Should we wear name tags? Would I have to pray out loud? Would we stand around with our arms folded over our chests in awkward silence? Would people notice how sprongy my couch is with the broken springs?

How is this going to work with such a disparate group of women – women who don’t even know each other, who aren’t even in the same place in life, I wondered as I tossed and turned, sleepless and sweaty.

I worried about the fact that we were probably all at different spots on the spiritual spectrum. “What if it’s too Jesus-ey?” I worried. “What if it’s not Jesus-ey enough?” I fretted.

You know what?

It worked. It worked beautifully.

Sure, some of us had never met before. And it’s true, we were different, all of us at various life stages – married, single, divorced, empty nester, grandmother, young mother, working, stay-at-home, retired. And yeah, we were undoubtedly at various points on the spiritual spectrum, too. But despite all that, we laughed. We shared stories. We ate scones.

We connected.

And when I dashed out the door to head to work before the meet-up had even officially ended, and I saw Deidra up to her elbows in a sink full of soapy water, and Frances with a dish towel in her hand and Amanda clearing my table (two women, by the way, I’d only just met two hours before), I knew I was witnessing something beautiful.

As I stopped for a second to glimpse those three women cleaning my kitchen, I witnessed in-real-life community unfold right before my harried eyes.

Where have you found unexpected community?

You can read more of Michelle's writing on her blog Graceful.