Monthly Archives: August 2010

Question Box: Speaking in Tongues

Posted on by
Reply

Introduction

Holy Cross Lutheran Church offers individuals the chance to ask questions about the Church, faith, theology, and the Bible by putting their queries into a Question Box. A question and answer appears in each month’s newsletter. This is the August 2010 installment.

Question

What is speaking in tongues? Do people still do it nowadays? Who understands the speaker? Is it right or wrong for someone to speak in tongues? How can we tell if someone is really speaking in tongues or just faking it?

Answer

Speaking in tongues is a gift of the Holy Spirit, sometimes referred to by its formal name of glossolalia. It is speech that does not make sense to those who overhear it. In 1 Corinthians 14, St. Paul shares a detailed treatment of this gift in the life of God’s Church. He says that those with the gift “do not speak to other people but to God,” (v. 2) and that they “should pray for the power interpret” (v. 13). In fact, he compares speaking in tongues without interpretation with playing tuneless sounds on an instrument: “If a bugle gives an indistinct sound, who will get ready for battle?” (v. 8)

Based on Paul’s writing, we know the Church in Corinth contained people, some with the gift of speaking in tongues, and perhaps, some with the gift to interpret that speaking. Some people practice glossolalia today, mostly in Pentecostal and charismatic congregations. Paul encourages good order, saying, “Let all things be done for building up” (v. 26c). If no one has the gift to interpret, then “…let them be silent in church and speak to themselves and to God” (v. 28) This helps us to decide whether it is right or wrong to speak in tongues. If someone has received the spiritual gift of interpretation, so that a clear message can build up the Church, then glossolalia is alright. But if not, then it is better to keep silent.

St. Paul compares prophecy and speaking in tongues. He writes, “…those who prophesy speak to other people for their upbuilding and encouragement and consolation. Those who speak in a tongue build up themselves, but those who prophesy build up the church” (vv.3–4). In either case, we ought to turn to the guidance of St. John, who writes, “Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God; … every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, and every spirit that does not confess Jesus is not from God” (1 John 4:1,2b–3a) This test determines whether the speaker’s words are true.

In the Meantime … In the Meantime

Posted on by
Reply

Introduction

This article is the August 2010 installment of my monthly message in the parish newsletter for Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb.

Message

In the Meantime

For the last year, this column has carried the title, “In the Meantime …,” offering a reminder that our time together as interim pastor and congregation is for now, for the time being, while the Holy Spirit guides the search for this parish’s new pastor.

This has been a good time for us, not in the sense that all moments have brought us joy, because we have shared many times of sorrow and struggle, but in the sense that our time together is good, meaning a gift and a blessing from God.

In fact, while the position you have invited me to assume in this community bears the label interim, every one of us is an interim minister. By that I mean that we have each received a calling from God to live by faith, to trust him for our lives, to turn to him in prayer, to practice stewardship of our blessings, to witness to others that Jesus Christ is Lord, and finally, to die in the confidence that we will share in our Lord’s resurrection. This is our calling—lived out in “many and various ways”—our calling as Christians in the meantime, for the interim.

Each of us can trace his or her path to the Christian faith to the witness and ministry of others who have come before us. They in turn received their invitation into God’s Church from still others who came before them. And in some fashion, we trust that we have touched others in ways that will lead them to faith. And so on.

The same pattern holds true for Christian congregations. The people who gathered to form Holy Cross Lutheran Church in 1966 came to this community from other congregations. This parish received support in its formative years from other parishes, which in turn traced their roots to still other parishes. And so on.

Tradition

When we think about traditions, we often recall the special foods we prepare for holidays, the order of meal and gifts and cake at family celebrations of birthdays—things like that. Sometimes, we come to think of a tradition as an unalterable practice carved in stone, because “we’ve always done it that way.” But the lively meaning of tradition is a little different. The word tradition traces its roots to some Latin words meaning “to give across,” or “to hand over.” If you picture a relay race, where the goal is not for any one person to cross the finish line, but for the team’s baton to make its way around the track and across the finish line first, then you get the gist of tradition. The point is that the baton finishes the race; no one person runs the whole race.

Racing for Christ

Our lives as Christians are part of a great relay race. We have received the baton of the faith from those who have run the race before us. We run now—strong and hard—with the best effort and strength and endurance we can muster, using the gifts and blessings from God. Someday it will be time to hand on the baton, to pass it to those who will run after us. And when we do, we pray for a clean hand-off, so that we do not drop the baton, and that our successors will run swiftly, with their eyes fixed on the finish line.

This is why we all live and work and witness in the meantime, why we are all interim ministers. It’s as the Apostle proclaims:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverence the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:1–2)

My prayer is that we can embrace together the time God gives us, the calling to interim ministry he extends to us, and the faith he desires for us to pass on, and that we can rejoice in the blessing of sharing this race in the meantime, looking to Jesus Christ at every turn.

Blessings!

Pastor David M. Frye

Seek the Things Above

Posted on by
Reply

This is the sermon I prepared for Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., for the Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, August 1, 2010.

+ + +

Readings

Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12–14; 2:18–23
Psalm 49:1–12 (antiphon v.3)
Colossians 3:1–11
Luke 12:13–21

+ + +

Prayer

Father in heaven, direct our gaze to you and guide us, by your Spirit, to seek what you desire for us, through your Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.
+ + +

Message

Once there was a boy whose favorite question was “why.”
No matter what his mom and dad were doing,
he would come to them and say, “Mom … ? Dad … ?”
And after they would set aside their tasks and say yes,
he would begin, “Why … ?”

Why is the sky blue?
Why does water always go this way down the drain?
Why do we only see stars at night?
Why do cat’s eyes shine in the dark?

He was shy, inquisitive, thoughtful, and filled with wonder.
He puzzled over why his little world was put together
the way it was and not some other way.

It’s hard to know what would have become of him
if he were born in the days of the colonial settlers
or the pioneers or in the depths of the Depression.

But he was born in a time of exploration.
He was old enough to stay up late one night in July
and to watch a grainy black-and-white image on television—
back when TV had rounded corners—
and to see a man clothed in white,
with a shining helmet,
take careful, tentative steps backwards down a ladder.

Then he stepped down one last time
and planted his booted foot upon the dusty surface of the moon.
And he said, “That’s one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind.”

The boy watching TV had discovered a hero,
a person to look up to, to emulate.
The walk upon the moon changed that boy’s life.
It inspired him to raise his gaze to the heavens,
to wonder about the things above him,
to ask why was it all there,
where did it come from,
what was it made of,
how big was it,
did it end or go on forever?

From that moment,
he found himself drawn to see the things above,
literally above him, in the vast expanse of space.
And so he wanted become an astronaut,
a sailor of the stars.

His parents bought him an Apollo 11 lunchbox.
He read about astronauts—real and fictional—
he learned all he could about space,
and eventually he decided to study science,
because it was a discipline dedicated to asking “why.”

Of all the sciences,
physics was the one that attracted him.
And astrophysics asked the best questions
about the worlds that shone like gems in the darkness.
It asked all the “whys” about the stars.

+ + +

A great hymn reminds us:
Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day. (“O God, Our Help in Ages Past,” Isaac Watts)

The years have passed.
That little boy has grown up.
His dream of becoming an astronaut has remained just that.
Eventually he turned away from physics.
But even so, he still loves to ask “why.”
He still turns his eyes to the heavens to gaze at the stars,
hoping to see and to seek the things above.

He does not search alone.
Anyone who wonders what is this world,
where do I fit in, what is my purpose,
who can give my life meaning,
is someone who gazes longingly at the things that are above.

But the truth that is the object of our search
is a little tougher to embrace,
a little harder to acknowledge
than the romance of that hope we celebrate
when all is simple and easy in the world of a child.

When we grow up,
seeking those things above
with the innocence of a child’s wonder
is like trying to see the stars clearly and cleanly,
strewn across the blackness of the sky at night,
when the lights of the city glow brightly all around us,
blazing every which way and up,
subduing the splendor of the stars,
washing them out, making them fade and grow dim.

When we grow up,
we discover that our heroes,
the people we once emulated and revered,
do not always live up to the heroic ideal.
They fall from glory and quickly fade,
like shooting stars arcing into the darkness.

When we grow up,
we find the wonder and the mystery
of the unknown dimmed and diminished,
replaced by the known, the familiar,
the well-worn, the mundane.

And sadly, we can find ourselves
echoing the Teacher of Ecclesiastes,
and we mutter to ourselves,

“I saw all the deeds that are done under the sun;
and see, all is vanity and a chasing after the wind.” (Ecclesiastes 1:14, NRSV)

So we change the questions we ask ourselves.
We ask the grown-up questions.
What’s the point? Why bother?
Who cares? What difference does it make?

Nothing. No reason. Nobody. None at all.

And the Teacher’s voice whispers in our ear,

“What do mortals get from all the toil and strain
with which they toil under the sun?
For all their days are full of pain,
and their work is a vexation;
even at night their minds do not rest.” (Ecclesiastes 2:22–23, NRSV)

But despite the Teacher’s worldly wisdom whispered into our ears,
we put our heads down anyway,
we lean into the harness of job and task and project,
and we work.

Perhaps we do not hear a calling to our service,
but instead a voice from within us says,
“Pile it up. Load it on. Get it while you can.”

So that’s what we do.
As best we can, we heap up an abundance of possessions,
as protection from despair, as insurance against death.
And then we stand upon our piles—
a little closer to the heavens, but not really—
and we join our voices in musing with the rich man:

“Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years;
relax, eat, drink, be merry.” (Luke 12:19, NRSV)

The sounds of the celebrations are so loud,
we cannot hear the voice of God say softly to us,

“You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you.
And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” (Luke 12:20, NRSV)

The lights of the party shine so brightly,
our eyes grow dazzled and we squint.
We cannot see the faint lights of the things that are above,
the things we once gazed upon longingly as children,
the things that drew us up and out in hope and wonder,
beyond the grasp of our tiny outstretched hands.
All may be “… vanity and a chasing after the wind.” (Ecclesiastes 1:14, NRSV)
You and I may have grown up to become fools,
bent upon “… stor[ing] up treasures for [our]selves … .” (Luke 12:21, NRSV)
But there is still time.
There is still hope.

Come outside, away from the glare of the lights.
Come away, far from the noise of the clatter.
Be still and wait—
not for heroes, but for our Father in heaven.
Look up to the heavens—
not to the stars, but to Christ our light.
Be quiet and listen—
not to the wind, but to the Spirit of life.

And remember what the Apostle has told us:

“So if you have been raised with Christ,
seek the things that are above,
where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.
Set your minds on things that are above,
not on things that are on earth,
for you have died,
and your life is hidden with Christ in God.
When Christ who is your life is revealed,
then you also will be revealed with him in glory.” (Colossians 3:1–4, NRSV)

“Seek the things that are above.”
Together, you and I seek them, and now we find them—
here in our midst,
here upon the altar,
here in the bread of heaven,
here in the cup of salvation.

This is where Christ is seated with us.
And so we rest from our seeking
and we turn now to eating and drinking.
In this Meal,
we find our minds mysteriously set upon the things that are above,
on the One who is hidden, but truly present
in this holy and heavenly Meal.

We eat and we drink,
and when we do,
we die with him who died for us,
and we rise renewed,
knowing why we feel refreshed,
because our life is hidden with Christ in God. Amen.