The Hour Has Come...and Gone

James in his Epistle writes that "Life is a vapor, it appears for a little time and then vanishes away."  

James is speaking of this life on Earth specifically, not life eternal which he clearly speaks of also (see Crown of Life).  About 20 years ago and continuing for several years thereafter, my mentor-buddy--an older family man--and I met almost every Thursday or Friday morning for breakfast where we recited verses of James by memory.

We both got to the final chapter of James and then petered out and moved on. I think we met for nearly a decade and I cherish the memories of all of our times together. When he moved down South to be with his kids, there was left a pretty big void. In the end, as Jimi Hendrix wrote, "The story of life is quicker than the wink of an eye, the story of life is hello and goodbye...until we meet again."

James had and still has a big effect on me and my understanding of how to be a Christian in the Public School system. More about what I did rather than what I said. Speaking is important, but in the end our actions speak louder, specifically when the pressure is on. How will we react?  Being a word guy, I really wish words would be enough. 

We all have debts to people in our past who took time to invest in us and too often we forget this. We take that interest literally for granted, assuming that we forged our own path, hacked down the weeds, took our stumbles and got up, alone. That is dishonest and far too grandiose. That was Obama's point when he said something to the effect that "You didn't get there on your own" and "You didn't build that" for which he was excoriated by Conservatives. Pretty good example how both Liberal and Conservatives have pieces of truth which they play like poker chips. Conservatives were correct to laud individual initiative, ingenuity, and sacrifice YET it is not an either/or here, it is both help from others and helping ourselves in tandem. 

Last Sunday I went back to the church I had attended in college over thirty years ago. I had also visited the church while in Grad School which is almost three decades later now. I graduated from Millersville University with my Bachelor's degree in December 1986 and came back to Central Pa. to in 1989 to pursue a Master's Degree. Coming out of Catholicism and its ossified ritual and relics, I landed at Zion Church after trying out several other churches in town. The Bible Church, where most of my fellow student Christian brethren attended, was far too stiff, and, the local mainstream denomination churches had already begun their loose slide into modernity and at best neo-orthodoxy.

(An aside, even though I had scant knowledge of the Bible I knew that the Libs, like Esau, had sold their birthright for a pot of worldly stew. From the Gospel, to the Social Gospel, to the Social. Fundies also show bankruptcy. Not in doctrine but in Charity. We all want to be gun-slinging prophets rather that take the bullets).   

Like Goldilocks, my roommate and I tried them all like shoes and we finally settled at Zion. He was a Church kid in background spreading his wings and I was the lapsed Catholic broken-winged bird of a young man desperately needing stability and a place to nest and call home. My family life was pretty much the Titanic and it wasn't women and children first. Actually, it was woman first. My mom, who sailed away from the kids in pursuit of the elusive self-fulfillment. My dad was MIA and we kids, like feral wolves, had to fend for ourselves beyond the roof over our heads, clothes on our backs, and food--as lame as it was--on the table. In retrospect, I realize it could have been much worse than it was. And better. My parents...they had their reasons, their own hurts trying to be healed. Time has taught me that things are never as simple as they seem.   

It was every man for himself and swim away from the wreckage as fast and hard as I can to not get sucked down into the vortex. Going away to college very much saved my life. I finally was paroled from the hell on earth of the last decade of home. I got eventually stronger and wiser as a result of fighting against the waves, currents, and sharks, both internal and external. The inner enemy was and is the most lethal. 

It was very hard. That is why helping high school kids figure out next steps is so ingrained in me. I will never forget how free college made me feel finally. I had the freedom and responsibility to chart my own course. Wasn't pretty, actually rather pathetic. But, I persevered.  My tattered sails of self seeking to capture the winds of progress and rowing with broken oars.

I had the unusual blessing of several supernatural events where my jaundiced logic and hardened-heart was broken by God's interventions in my life which defied explanation. I won't detail them here but without these events,  I never would have become a Christian. It was God's hand that opened the door to faith, not something I could have conjured up like self-help necromancy on my own. I was dead yet living.   

Jesus came to me in a study carrel several stories up at Ganser Library at Millersville University, the Fourth Floor Balcony, from what I recall. The highest floor where serendipitously, the high-minded philosophy and theology books were stored (I spent many an hour reading those books instead of studying, I needed something beyond the grade. I needed wisdom, not just knowledge. I also spent a decent amount of time with my head down, just so weary).   

I laid down my arms there and surrendered. I would like to say that my life was all sunshine from there on. Nah....the storm still raged. God was with me in the storm--sometimes distant but still with me. He didn't calm the waves but gave me the hope to keep swimming and sometimes just to float, nostrils an inch above the swells. I ingested a lot of salt-water.

It was a change of direction more than anything, an orientation to the eternal My knee still seared in pain, my head continued to suffer the consequences from life blows past and present.   

Zion Church of Millersville (ironically, its address shared the same three numbers in the identical order of my family house address) became the place where God placed me in the incubator to grow my faith step-by-step, week-by-week, month-by-month. I was in the NICU of spiritual formation and needed to breathe. I would like to say that the church was placid as a lake in summer. Nope. It was going through a nasty schism between the old timers who had a sclerotic and liberal understanding of the faith and the new crowd who were more open to new manners and modes of worship through music and style but who were actually much more conservative in doctrine. Zion eventually left the UCC but the trauma of doing so rent the church in two, a wound that has not healed even over the ensuing years. It was sad and not a great experience for me to be a part of because of my background in family conflict. As Matthew Henry wrote, "The best of men are still men."  Having a sober-minded view of human nature is essential to moving on.

I could see the anger and hurt in peoples faces every Sunday. The simmering resentments.   

The pastor is still there in a half-time capacity. He preached a deep sermon on Sunday about the events leading up to Palm Sunday and wove a phenomenal and scriptural message about how Palm Sunday was the culmination of thousands of years of God's story where the prophetic promise of the hour to come had finally come. When Jesus came to earth, the prophetic clock that had been ticking for centuries came to the present-tense. The alarm rang. It got real. It was time for Christ to throw Himself it the abyss of human nature and redeem it from the bottom-up. To suck the dregs dry of that awful cup of human rebellion. "It is finished" was the draining of the cup of wrath and the filling up of a New Covenant chalice of unmerited favor.

It was a joy to reconnect with the pastor and the congregants I knew from yesteryear. Some fairly close friends from that time have passed away. For the ones still standing, we all look a lot older because we are. It was funny...there was a guy three decades ago who would sneak in and sneak out of the service, not saying anything to anyone. He is still doing it after 30 plus years. I caught him out of the corner of my eye, him gray and frailer, still hitting the exit pronto at the conclusion of the benediction. It make me laugh. Some people don't change. Good for him that he is still coming.

The taste left in my spirit after departing the service was melancholy. It was a misty and cold day as I left church. The weather mirrored my soul. Recognizing how much regret I have added to the ledger since college. Yet, I have a greater hope that the story, although winding and crooked and really unexpected, has shown God to be faithful despite the sadness and sin. It is sunshine through the storm. 

Life is SO beautiful and SO sad and SO short.

To provide succor, I headed to the Sugar Bowl on Millersville's campus afterwards to consume one of these dandies of delight.  Glad to note that I still got it...took down the large Italian Strom in one sitting.