Summertime!

It’s almost summer and I am so ready. This South Carolina boy grew up in the heat, so a string of 90 degree days doesn’t phase me one bit. Heck, some thought there was little more than a screen door between my hometown in Columbia and Dante’s inferno!

Sure enough, the second you walked outside in July your clothes would be dripping wet. Every neighborhood had a pool, thank goodness, but come mid-July the pool water felt like bath water.

So why do I like summer so much? Being outside, for one ... and the little bit of freedom that comes along with it. To this day I get excited when Anna’s final day of school rolls around. I vividly remember hearing the bell ring one last me at Seven Oaks Elementary School in the mid 1970s, followed by an eruption of cheers. I can picture Ricky Faulk and me racing to our bikes to see who could get o school grounds first. Summer time!

Summer time is fun around St. John’s, too. Sure, worship attendance slows down a bit because of vacations and trips to the lake. But while some things slow down, other things heat up.

Think about June and July alone: three youth mission trips, one confirmation camp, Summer Strings Camp, Hands and Feet Camp, and a day-long Free Day Camp with the staff  of Agape. And that doesn’t even include VBS, which is the first week of August.

It’s busy, but it’s a good kind of busy.

Speaking of heating up, I hope you had the chance to attend Cheerwine’s 100th birthday celebration on May 20. It was hot ... but how fun to see our downtown filled to the brim with good cheer. 

And don’t you know the CDC is heating up these days. School’s almost out, which means the CDC will be welcoming back another year of “summer camp” for school aged kids. Implemented three years ago, summer camp is a blast, loaded with field trips and fun. But the biggest excitement at the CDC has to do with our new execu ve director, Courtney Bost. Courtney has so much passion, care, and talent. Read all about her in our latest Eagles View newsletter.

Another of our ministries that’s heating up: our four Lutheran camps and conference centers in North Carolina.

Just last week we sent Matthew to to be a counselor at Lutheridge. He’s been waiting for this moment since we picked him up from camp after first grade. “I’m going to be a counselor,” he said. That was 12 years ago, and true to his word, Matthew loaded up his Subaru with ratty tennis shoes, a bunch of T shirts, and a guitar. What else does a summer camp counselor need? It’s sure to be the best summer of his life, and we can’t wait to hear all about it.

I sure hope your summer is heating up, too. Maybe it just means extra me to sit on the patio and relax. Maybe you’ll be hiking up Hanging Rock or biking the Virginia Creeper trail. Maybe a beach trip is in your future, or even an outdoor concert.

Whatever summer means for you, may you rejoice in this very precious season of life. Hot though it may be, may you be warmed by the joy each day is sure to bring. 

A new home

Every time I walk past our stairwell a tiny little “ding” is heard. It’s faint, and I’ve gotten used to it for the most part.

It comes from an antique telephone Krista brought from her mom’s house last month, the kind I first saw on the Waltons, with a crank and a separate ear piece. It’s   classic. 

Following the death of Krista’s dad last September, Krista’s mom, Joan, decided to move out of their spacious log home and into a two bedroom condo. She downsized, which meant that we now have a number of little treasures like that phone … and a small chalkboard that hung in their basement … and an old flintlock gun that looks like something Aaron Burr would have used in his fateful duel. 

Although we’re proud to own these keepsakes, it’s hard for me to place them outside that old log house where they’ve lived these last 30 years. It’s where we’ve celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas ever since I met Krista. It’s that place of quiet retreat that always smelled like a combination of Roger’s workshop, a wood burning stove, and the warm, muskiness of barley and hops. 

I’m not sure who will miss the house more, but I know my name is on that list. The night time was the best, with no ambient light or noise for miles around. Sleeping in was assumed, as was a quiet walk down the stairs if you were the first one up. 

There was nothing fancy about the house — or life in the house — although it was as sturdy and well built as you’ve ever seen. Krista’s dad built it from scratch, after all. Their dream home. A home for all of us.

But things change and life moves on. Families aren’t confined to four walls, after all, and the practical side of taking care of property and appliances and cleaning eventually wins out. It was time to move. 

Joan is now finding a new normal as she transitions into a different home and a changed routine. The large picture window in her bedroom helps, perfectly placed so that she wakes up every morning to the sun rising over Lake Keowee. The dawn of a new day.

Which is precisely what all this is, for each of us: the dawn of a new day. Different, sure, but each day kissed with the beauty of newness and grace. 

“I lift up my eyes to the hills; from where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made the heavens and the earth” (Psalm 121).  

I have no idea where we’ll hang that old telephone, but we’ll find a place. And in time it will become part of its new home, a constant fixture whose “ding” seems to  announce that “all is well.” 

Blessings to you and yours, 

Pastor Rhodes

Every 9 seconds

Every 9 seconds, someone is physically abused.  

1 out of every 3 women have been physically abused at some point in their lives. 1 of 7 have been stalked to the point of fearing for their safety. 

Let those numbers sink in for a second. They equate to 10 million US abuse victims annually. It's a frightening reality that affects every community and all people regardless of age, socio-economic status, race, or nationality. Perhaps you are one of the ones reflected in these numbers. 

This Sunday at 4:00, the downtown clergy are sponsoring a "Break the Silence" service for all victims of violence and abuse. The service will be held at Hood Seminary and include scripture readings, song, reflection and testimonies. 

For many victims, their abuse has been "silent." Far too many have been afraid to let anyone know about their past either for fear of retaliation, embarrassment, or worry that they will be labeled. "Break the Silence" gives space for voices to be heard and wounds to be healed. 

I'll be a part of the service and would certainly invite your participation if it would be meaningful to you. Or perhaps this idea simply brings up a difficult reminder of your past/hurt. Please know that St. John's is a place where we gather to be healed -- a place of hope, of balm for our wounds, and a loving reminder that we are made new again by a God who dares to walk with us into those very dark places. 

Blessings to you during this second week of Easter. Christ is alive! The tomb is empty. There is hope for tomorrow :)

Peace+

Pastor Rhodes

Nothing can separate us

We've just finished conducting the memorial service for Nancy Bowden, a life-long member of St. John's whose services for baptism, first communion, confirmation, marriage, and now burial were all held in our sanctuary. 

There was something special about her funeral being held on Maundy Thursday. The altar area has already been prepared for tonight's worship, a large black veil nearly covering the triptych, the remnants of Palm Sunday still in the chancel -- a pitcher, towel, robe of purple cloth, and crown of thorns. Though we celebrated Nancy's life, the space presented a powerful reminder that a funeral service is about far more than us. It's the church's strongest and most profound statement that, because of Christ's death and resurrection, nothing can separate us from the love of God. Neither life nor death nor things present nor things to come. Nothing can separate us from God's love. 

Tonight we re-tell the story of Jesus' last meal, the washing of his disciples' feet, and his betrayal by Judas. The mood is stark, especially as we end with the dramatic stripping of the altar amidst total silence and darkness. At the end, only darkness remains. 

On Good Friday we gather in darkness, stunned as the final candle -- the only light that remains -- is removed from the sanctuary. 

Thankfully you know the rest of the story. Easter dawns, the tomb is empty, Christ is risen! Whew!

But might I ask a favor? There are lots of folks in our world and in our community who don't know the rest of the story. Sure, they might have heard it, but their lives continue to be wrapped in darkness and despair and grief and betrayal. For whatever reason, it's hard for them to wrap their heads around "new life" and "hope" and an "empty tomb." It's difficult for them to embrace this belief that nothing can separate us from God's love. 

Will you pray for them? ... and if given the opportunity, will you invite them to hear and experience the rest of the story? It may well be the greatest gift you've ever given. 

Thank you for who you are. And thanks be to God for the privilege of sharing in this journey with you. 

Monsters in Syria

What else can go wrong in Syria?

Since the civil war began in 2011 nearly 500,000 people have been killed in a country less than twice the size of North Carolina. 6.5 million live in refugee camps within the country, while 5 million have fled Syria because of fear and starvation.

And the fear is fully justified. In 2013 alone, the Syrian president launched a chemical attack upon his own people, killing 1500, including nearly 500 children. Pressured by the US, Assad promised not to use chemical weapons in the future. Ever.

Well, here we go again. Last Tuesday Assad launched another chemical attack on innocent civilians, yet another spineless, heartless disregard for life. The guy's a monster.

Remember the image two years ago that changed the world -- of the 3 year old Syrian boy refugee whose lifeless body was found on a beach in Turkey? His family and thousands more like them had risked life and limb to escape the horrors of what must be hell on earth. That image almost single-handily led to the opening of Germany's doors to hundreds of thousands of refugees.

Or last year, the image of a 5 year old boy whose blood-stained body lay covered in dust after another government-sponsored air strike on his hometown of Aleppo?

Oh, and how could we forget last year's video of ISIS militants carrying out a mass execution by beheading Syrian rebels? Can there be two more feared and hated groups fighting each other?

Brutal warfare led by a brutal dictator against a brutal opposition.

What are we to do?

I wouldn't want to be president in times like these. As I write, President Trump is launching a targeted cruise missile attack on Syrian air bases. It's hard to know if that's the right move or not, although I'm sure part of the decision was simply to "do something." We all want to "do something" ... it's just hard to know what to do.

As leaders form their plans, God loving people around the world are called to pray for peace and wise leadership ... earnest prayers that human suffering might end and sanity might prevail.

We pray that pride-based systems might fail and heartless dictators might be displaced. We pray that "justice might roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream" (Amos 5:24) ... that God's kingdom of peace might supplant earthly kingdoms of hate ... that Christians around the world might hold the candle of truth and bear arms of mercy for all ... that refugees might be comforted rather than demonized, and a new generation of peace-loving leaders might rise up rather than be gunned down.

This Sunday in worship we again read the story of Jesus, the ultimate victim of brutality, hatred, and violence. He understands the cry of the oppressed and feels the pain of the persecuted. He has escaped political violence and lived as a refugee. He's been hungry, homeless, falsely accused, imprisoned, beaten, tortured, abandoned by his friends, ridiculed by the authorities, and executed for a crime he didn't commit.

What that means is that Jesus has been in the shoes of the Syrian refugee. He's felt the pierce of a spear to the side. He's been in the arms of a mother holding her lifeless child.

As close as a mother hen is to her brood, we are reminded that God does not abandon the forsaken ... and he begs the same of us. In this time of chaos, may we do as Christ and draw close to the broken-hearted, that we might proclaim with the psalmist, "I have not kept the good news of your justice hidden in my heart" (Psalm 40:10 NLT).

I wish there was an easy answer to this mess. Unfortunately there's not. In the meantime, this prayer of St. Francis:

Make us worthy, Lord, to serve our fellow men throughout the world,who live and die in poverty and hunger.Give them through our hands, this day, their daily breadand by our understanding love, give peace and joy.

 Amen.

"Two ears and one mouth"

It was a tough week for our community: losing the National Sports Media Association to our neighbor, Winston-Salem, and the continued threat of violence that has become somewhat of a plague. 

The newspaper and City Council meetings have been filled with comments, letters, complaints, worries, and hoped-for solutions to the problems. Anxiety is high, and anxiety that's led to considerable anger among some.

What to do? There have been lots of opinions, to be sure. In the midst of the opinion-sharing, I'd hope for two things: 

1. Dare to listen to one another. There's a lot of talking these days. Please, let's open our ears and listen. I honestly don't know the day-to-day struggles of my West End neighbors other than what I read in the paper. We need to be open to their insight and eager to gather wisdom from those who know their neighborhood best. That's why my friend Chad says, "God gave us two ears and one mouth for a reason."
2. Act out of love for our community. We have much to love here, and we've been fortunate to stand on the shoulders of giants who likewise have loved this community. But we can't truly love something by simply contemplating our love for it. We act. We show our love in the way we speak and in the priorities we establish. The same is true in the realm of peace. Jesus never asked us to be peace-contemplators. He asked that we be peace-makers. Let's be love-makers for our community. Let's begin our comments with these words: "I love this community, therefore ..."

The issues of our day are complex, no doubt. But the most complicated of problems begin with a few simple starting points. Let's start by listening and then proclaiming our true love for this community. 

Thank you, friends, for what you do as bearers of Christ's light. I'll see you in church.

Peace+

Pastor Rhodes

Ash Wednesday? Again?

Someone recently passed along the prayer of an old southern preacher offered before the service each Sunday: 

“Oh Lawd, give thy servant this mawnin’ de eye of de eagle and de wisdom of de owl. Connect his soul wid de gospel telephone of de central skies. ‘Luminate his brow wid de sun of heaven. Saturate his heart wid love of people. Turpentine his ‘magination, grease his lips wid possum. Loosen him wid de sledge hammer of thy power. ‘Lectrify his brain wid de lightning’ of thy Word. Put ‘petual motion in his arms, fill him wid de dynamite of glory, ‘noint him all over wid de kerosene oil of salvation, and den sot him a-fire. Amen!” 

There’s something about Lent that makes us want to set things on fire. No, not in a pyromaniac kind of way, but in a fire-of-the-Spirit kind of way. 

Here’s what I mean. Lent is that 40 day journey from Ash Wednesday to Easter morn. During Lent the church does what it does best: we reconnect with our core beliefs, principles, and disciplines; we worship, repent of our sins, and humbly remind ourselves that, despite all our efforts otherwise, we are nothing without Christ. The first thing we do during Lent is receive the ashen cross on our forehead, a reminder that we — all of us — are of dust and to dust we shall return. The last thing we do — on Good Friday —  is to fall on our knees and lay the nails of our guilt at the foot of the cross. 

Lent is loaded with humility and that fiery, look-you-in-the-eye reminder that we are not God and that we are nothing without him. It’s not a message that resonates very well with contemporary society, but it’s a message the world desperately needs to hear. 

I’m not going to set myself on fire this Lent, and I’m pretty sure Pastor Danielle won’t either. But we will spend these 40 days reminding each other over and over again that Jesus is Lord. Period. Lots of things in your life are competing for that title, but none of those things can claim sovereignty over heaven and earth. Nothing and no one else will give you ultimate freedom. No other Lord will welcome you into a life of love, grace, and forgiveness. No other Lord will, at the end of the day, welcome you home. 

The best way to reconnect with that truth is to be in worship. But please don’t come expecting to be entertained. Come because God wants to speak to you, love you, challenge you, and equip you. Come because God deserves your worship and praise. Period. 

And if God sets us on fire in the process, then please make me a promise: don’t throw water on that fire. Toss some kerosene oil of salvation …… and watch it burn. 

The painting is titled "Fearless and intemperate" by Vanity Fair artist Spy.