Christian Counseling Service -- Devotions

Hidden in the pulpit

Saturday, April 22, 2017

From Acts 4
Observing the boldness of Peter and John and perceiving them to be uneducated, ordinary men, the leaders, elders, and scribes were amazed, and they recognized them as the companions of Jesus ... "It is impossible for us not to speak about what we have seen and heard."

How can anyone preach unless they're sent? I'm thankful this morning for preachers.

Aly attends morning pre-school at St. John's Lutheran Church in Springfield. Today I dropped her off and picked her up. Most of the time in between I sat in the church library and sanctuary, pondering things.

The church's stained glass windows depict the life, death and resurrection of Jesus in fourteen scenes accompanied by Christian symbols I wanted to know more about. A huge picture book, The Timetable of Biblical History, drew me into the lives of God's followers down through the ages. On the library wall are portraits of four former pastors, less stern and more sweet-looking as the years go by.

Outside the library is a case displaying Tad Lincoln's baptismal bowl. In 1871 Lutherans purchased the Presbyterian building known as "Lincoln's Church" in downtown Springfield. The current church was built in 1983-2003, but I ride the rails of its history. New as the sanctuary is, it reminds me of my Lutheran church in Lincoln. The lights, the candles, the altar, the crucifix send me home.

After school, Aly and I took our time leaving. The church has a bell choir, and the bells are left out in the sanctuary, and sometimes we take a moment to ring one or two of them. We count how long the tones last. Over thirty seconds into silence. My eyes got wide.

We took our places, each of us in turn, on the kneeling bench. "Here's the bread, Grandpa. Here's the juice." We shared our imaginary meal, the body and blood of Jesus. Gradually we have become accustomed to the holiness of this moment in the middle of a school day. Neither of us thinks too much; we just kneel and pray.

Royce, who leads the bell-choir and plays the organ, visited with us. She was cleaning up sheet music after Easter. One day Aly's class learned about the organ and took turns on the organ seat, looking up at the pipes that play the music. We watched the piano hammers hit their strings. Life on this side of the stained glass windows. This morning among all these instruments, I love the mostly-silence.

Aly likes to stand at the pulpit and look out on her congregation, searching for words. She's nearly tall enough for me to see her eyes. Today she was distracted. She whispered in the sanctuary's silence. "Grandpa, come up here!"

Aly had found the shelf below the pulpit's lectern. "Look what's here." Ever so slowly she pulled out a wrapped Hall's cough drop. Grape. Her eyes were wide. She also found a pencil. And just a little deeper on the shelf, a brand new pack of Kleenex.

If anyone knows that preachers blow their noses, Aly does. Both her pastor parents take a turn at teaching now and then. But maybe we were a little embarrassed to invade this pastor's privacy. We whispered. We wondered. We put the cough drop back, and all the rest. And I realized in a rush, just how thankful I am for all the preachers of my life.

"How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who publish peace, who bring good news of happiness, who proclaim salvation and say to Zion, "Your God reigns" (Isaiah 52 and Romans 10).

For all these men and women, Lord, and children too, who make you come alive for me, thank you. When you stirred them, they were stirred. Their words and gestures and smiles and advice have guided me toward you. Their listening helps me hear myself. Out of their imperfection your completeness becomes more clear, your love becomes more manifest, your joy becomes mine. Evening and morning of the Sabbath day, and it is very good.

Devotions Archive

Hidden in the pulpit

Saturday, April 22, 2017