From his fullness we have all received Grace upon Grace. ~ John 1:16
We develop habits, good and bad, over time. The dictionary defines a habit as an act or practice so frequently repeated as to become relatively fixed in character and almost automatic in performance. I brush my teeth every morning and every night. I don’t ever make my bed. I walk the dog and drink coffee in the morning. I drink Pepsi in the afternoon. I mindlessly read the news in the evening and get agitated and wonder why I can’t sleep at night. It is a habit.
How aware are we of our habits? How aware are we of our habitual thoughts—positive and negative?
Growing up with my family, on special nights, we would watch “The Wonderful World of Disney” and eat grilled cheese sandwiches (I liked mine charred) dipped in Campbell’s soup. After supper, Mom made fresh popcorn with liberal amounts of hot, melted butter poured over it. When the big yellow popcorn bowl was empty, we took turns eating the half-popped kernels on the bottom of the bowl. I loved this habit.
We went to high school football games on Friday nights. Dad kept stats for Coach Leenhouse who was a family friend, Mom tried to keep warm, and my sister and I ran around the field playing tag with classmates. We ate popcorn, Frito Pie, and drank soda pop at half-time. What a great healthy habit. We usually found out who won the game on the way home.
On Sunday mornings, our family “religiously” went to the United Methodist Church. I never complained; going to church was a habit. My middle school English teacher, Mrs. Neighbors, would sing solos with her high soprano voice. Mrs. Neighbors’s movement from stern English teacher Monday through Friday to church soloist singing “Amazing Grace” on Sunday always gave Parker (my classmate and fellow Methodist) and me the giggles, especially when she tried to hit the high notes. Dad would always elbow me and Parker, but I saw Dad smiling. Church was a habit.
Reverend Walt’s son, Scott, was a star on our high school football team, and Parker and I looked up to him. He got suspended for drinking and the town talked about the “wild” United Methodist minister’s kid being out of control.
I did not understand, but Scott still came to church, still took communion, and Reverend Walt loved his son like he loved all of us. I don’t remember any of Reverend Walt’s sermons (I’d love to hear them again), but I do remember how he treated his son when he got in trouble.
I asked Dad why we were United Methodists, and he said, “Because my parents were Methodists.” I thought there might be a better answer, so I asked my mom, and she said, “Because my parents were Methodists.” I knew there had to be a better answer.
Why do we go to church? What are we looking for?
When Jennifer and I got married, Reverend Chuck, my grandma’s United Methodist minister, who I loved to hear speak, officiated at our wedding ceremony up in the mountains. Chuck invited everyone to place their hands on us in prayer and he wrapped his stole around our hands and said, “What God has joined together, let no one separate.” Mine and Jennifer’s heads were burning with a power that could only be love.
I did not understand, but a short time later Reverend Chuck separated from his wife of many years. He loved the church and continued to invite the homeless to worship on Sunday mornings. As the unhoused population at St. Paul’s grew, membership declined. The conference reassigned Chuck to a new church.
Jennifer and I made our new home in Meeker, Colorado, and started attending the United Methodist Church there. Jennifer sang and I held my breath (I did not laugh) when she tried to hit the high notes. I mowed the church yard, waxed the floors in the hall, and got into “fun” arguments with the pastor over the nature of God.
We left the United Methodist Church and went to a storefront church that promised health, wealth, and wisdom. After a year of “guilt and fear” theology, we returned to the United Methodist Church. Pastor Chris, who I still talk with to this day, welcomed us home with open arms. He and the congregation loved us, no questions asked, no “I told you so.” Just grace.
United Methodist Bishop Will Willimon writes, “The good shepherd lays down his life for the (dumb, wayward, foolish, asinine, promiscuous, lost, and wandering) sheep. The church marvels that a bunch of misfits like us (Jesus was never too discriminating in deciding with whom to party) could be that place where heaven and earth meet.”
Our awakenings are usually slow I believe. All of us live in need of God’s Grace: Reverend Walt’s son, Reverend Chuck, me, all of us… Philip Yancey says, “Many years ago I was driven to the conclusion that the two major problems facing Christians (and the church) are these: the failure to understand, receive, and live out God’s unconditional grace and forgiveness; and the failure to give out that unconditional love, forgiveness, and grace to other people.”
“From his fullness we have all received Grace upon Grace,” (John 1:18). Who are we to judge, exclude, or condemn? God’s grace redeems all of us. How do we stay grounded in love while lifting each other up and holding one another and ourselves accountable? We struggle together with the path forward towards more unity, peace, and heaven on earth.
Why am I a United Methodist? Because my parents and grandparents were Methodists, and they believed in the primacy of God’s Grace. They welcomed me home when I was victorious and when I was broken. We, the church, celebrate and mourn life together as we learn to love and forgive as Christ loves us. Grace upon Grace. May church be a life-giving habit for all of us. Amen.
Blessings and peace,
Craig