Archives for 2016

Last week, as I was tapping out my sermon, I lifted my head and noticed where I was.  I was in a student study carrel over in Alderman Library.  But when I took note of my environment more carefully, I began reading all the student graffiti scrawled around me.  Several anxiety-ridden UVA students had sat where I now sat.  Writing papers and studying for exams, he or she had written (in pen and pencil and carved into wood and cinder block) existential musings.  So, I composed this student psalm using their words:

Student Graffiti in a UVA Study Carrel

I need drugs.
I want nachos.
Why hast thou forsaken me?
Get busy living or get busy dying that why I’m busy studying.
I’m tired.
God, I love physics.
I just want to graduate.
I’m here more than any other place.
Next year will be better, I hope.
Dear future UVA students who seek hope
Within the premise of this seat-
Good luck.  You are going to need it.

Don’t forget to pray for our college students as they take exams and prepare for life.

Rev. Ken

No one has ever described me as a “morning person”—just ask Heather.  For being a high energy kind of guy, it may come as a surprise to you to learn that I start my mornings slow: wiping the sleep from my eyes, putting on an old sweatshirt, wondering where I put my glasses the night before, and starting the kettle for my morning cup of coffee.  My mornings also include stretching out and glancing at my NPR news app.  At the break of dawn, it takes me awhile to find my bearings.  A few years back, Heather and I attended a conference in Maine where we were invited every morning to begin our day by sitting in silence for 15-20 minutes.  Leaders lit a candle, read to us a brief prayer or poem and then, with the sound of a bell, we sat quietly, breathing in and out and placing our day in God’s hands.

Here in Charlottesville, Heather and I have begun this spiritual practice. It doesn’t take a class or a special curriculum.  Trust me.  Starting off your day grounded and calm in mind and spirit changes the way you interact with others and how others interact with you.

After my silent meditation and a second cup of coffee, I start to feel ready—in soul, mind, and body.  I’m ready to face the coming day.  And when I pull into Westminster Presbyterian Church and I get out of my car, I say one more prayer:  “O Lord, let me rise to the challenges of this day.”  My day begins.

                Many of us have our morning rituals and routines.  We have our own unique way of summoning up the right attitude so we can be more fully engaged in our everyday relationships.  Indeed, we all need some time to wake up.   One of our Advent hymns (#17) begins this way: “Sleepers awake!” A voice astounds us . . . .”  For me,  Johann Sebastian Bach’s classic tune calls us to wakefulness.  Like many of our Advent hymns, we sing of the joyous news of preparing for Christ’s coming.  “Awake, Jerusalem, arise!” this hymn calls and beckons.  In essence, the hymn cries out, “Wake Up!  Wipe the sleep from your eyes! Put on an old sweatshirt! Stretch out! Meditate in the light of Christ. Get ready!”

“For unto us a child is born, a son is given and authority will rest upon his shoulders; and he will be named, Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Is. 9:6)

So, sleepers, wake! For Advent is here!

Rev. Ken

I told this story on Sunday, October 23rd as the Children’s Sermon. I thought that like all good stories, it bore re-telling.

When my mom was a little girl, her house didn’t have electricity. They had to light a fire to stay warm, cook their food and heat their water for bathing. Because my mom was the oldest of eight, she had the important chore of checking the fire. It was an important job. One morning, she opened the door of the wood stove and saw the fire had gone out! She quickly went out the back door and called her dad in from the tobacco field where he had been working since before the sun was up.

“Daddy, the fire is out!!”

While she waited  for her father, she went over to the woodpile and picked up as big a stick as she could lift, so when her dad came in the door, there she stood fixin’ to throw that log into the wood stove.

“Whoa, there!” my papa said.

“But the fire is out, Daddy! Mama and the babies are gonna freeze!” (My mom is rather dramatic.)

“Elizabeth,” he said, “the fire’s not out. I banked the ashes to keep the coals from going out. The fire is there, we just need to tend it.”

She again hoisted that big stick up and again her father said,”That big a stick will put the fire out. What we need is kindling – we will use those small sticks – the ones you and your brothers pick up in the yard-  to slowly catch the fire. And then, after awhile, that fire will be a-blaze.”

You see, my mom thought that when she couldn’t see the fire, it must have gone out. But really it needed re-kindling – that careful work of putting small sticks in to the coals, that quiet work of sitting and waiting for each stick to catch hold of the spark, that slow work of not rushing to put the large pieces on too soon.

Our faith in God is like that hidden fire. Sometimes it looks and maybe even feels like its gone out, when really it needs some tending with small and patient attention. I wonder where you are in this story. Does your fire need rekindling? Do you need patience for the work of rekindling? Do you need reminding to put down the big stick and look for the small sticks along the way? Whatever the case, I invite you to spend some time this week, tending to your fire. I intend to do the same. Blessings – Lynne