Prayer is powerful.  Prayer is effective.  Prayer is good.

Furthermore: Prayer is a privilege. Prayer is a responsibility. 

But is prayer always our right?  More specifically, do we always have the right to pray for people -- on-the-spot, out loud and in public, let's say -- whether or not we've asked or gotten their permission?

Is there a point where, if we impose on others our choice to pray for them "right then and there", that we risk offending rather than blessing them; that we risk the fostering of distrust rather than engendering trust?

Do you make it your practice to take charge and pray for people whether or not they are willing participants?  If so, why? Or have you ever been the "other" person, who felt uncomfortable when someone seemingly forced you into praying with them (although they may have ended up doing all the praying anyway)? If so, what was that like?

My personal practice is to always ask someone if I can pray for them, unless the nature of my relationship to them is such that mutual prayer is expected (e.g. mentoring relationships).  However, this is a topic that has always held my interest, and as I've watched others pray for people over the years, I believe it's a topic worthy of our thoughtful evaluation.

So what are your thoughts?

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Okay. Put your thinking caps on and help me understand this one.

Why do some people seem so unwilling to accept heart-felt words of blessing from others?  When someone extends a word of blessing to such a person (e.g. "May the Lord bless you!"), rather than responding with something like, "Thank you" or "Amen!", they inevitably respond with "He does."  It's an response which seems to upstage the pronouncement.

Is it just me, or does this smack of arrogance?  Or... is it a type of pride which just isn't humble enough or willing enough to admit that they need any more of God's blessing because they have everything in their spiritual lives already taken care of?  Or... is it simply because they have never been taught the importance of giving/receiving blessings or how to go about practicing such?

Seems to me, that it is a powerful thing to both speak blessing over as well as receive blessing from others. If that indeed is the case, then why do some believers seemingly refuse to graciously receive ANY blessing that someone else would offer?

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Dale C. Allison Jr's, The Luminous Dusk: Finding God in the Deep, Still Places,  is a delightfully intellectual invitation to explore and embrace our need for a deeper, more contemplative spirituality.

Although Richard Foster heads the offering of back-cover accolades, The Luminous Dusk is far from being a Foster-like book when it comes to the contemplative life. Allison takes on our culture's need for a deeply informed and reflective spirituality with amazing panache.  In today's smörgåsbord of books on contemplative spirituality, where Foster may be seen as serving up potatoes and gravy (a true staple), Allison's offering is all steak. 

Whether one is a professional "academic" or an armchair theologian/philosopher, The Luminous Dark will scratch scores of thoughtful souls right where they itch, and then beckon them into deeper and darker waters.  I am not aware of a single book on contemplative spirituality which makes a more prolific and inspiring use of both ancient and modern thought-leaders from across the spectrum of academic disciplines.  In one chapter, entitled, "Mute Angels," where he lays out a stellar treatise on the holiness of silence, Allison quotes from the likes of (listed in no particular order):

Epicurus, Philo of Alexandria, Origen, Thomas Aquinas, Ignatius of Antioch, Ephrem the Syrian, John Climacus, writer, O. Henry, mathematician, Laplace, as well as Alasdair MacIntyre, Blaise Pascal, Geddes MacGregor, Aldous Huxley, John Greenleaf Whittier, G.K. Chesterton,  Soren Kierkegaard, Max Picard, and several others.  And that's just one chapter!

When it comes to motivating folks to read this amazing treatise, Allison's own summary remarks may well serve as the most enticing of invitations:

The luminous dusk, the unspent, dark cloud of God's glory, lies beyond a door that is buried, in the words of Teresa of Avila, "in the extreme interior, in some very deep place within." Although only God's grace can open the door, we can at least do our best to stand before the doorway.  We do this by temporarily abandoning, during prayer and meditation, the world of the five sense, by declining to look at or listen to or think about the things around us.  Darkness and stillness then become our collaborators, helping us to drag our attention away from this world of divertissement to the numinous world that holds the neglected fountain of divine light...[the place where] we are remade -- and then sent back into the everyday, material world to do our mundane tasks with renewed life (Luminous, p. 178).

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Our congregation's observance of Holy Week this year was more deeply moving and carried a greater sense of community than any Holy Week-related gathering I've ever experienced -- here or elsewhere.  The reason, at least in part, may have been due to how many people responded to the unique opportunity our Holy Week schedule offered to our congregation: the chance to gather with one's own family of faith on a daily/nightly basis.  Seeing, greeting, praying with, singing with, kneeling with, and sometimes weeping with basically the same people each night really drew us together. 

Many of us regularly think about how first century believers frequently met together:  "Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple... Acts 2:46a (NRSV)," yet living in an individualism-soaked culture repeatedly prevents most communities of faith from experiencing the power and beauty of this dynamic.

Here's a list of Holy Week gatherings we observed together:

Palm Sunday - a Celebration service with some "liturgy of the palms" content woven in.
Holy Monday - a Vespers service with multisensory "stations", with theme: The Anointing of Jesus.
Holy Tuesday - a Vespers service with multisensory "stations", with theme: Jesus, the Light.
Holy Wednesday - a Vespers service with multisensory "stations", with theme: Judas' Betrayal.
Maundy Thursday - a Eucharistic service with blended liturgy (Episcopal, Celtic, Free Methodist).
Good Friday - a noontime multimedia, multisensory prayer service; and an evening multimedia, multisensory "Tenebrae" service.
Easter Sunday - a sunrise service with blended liturgy (Celtic, Episcopal, Free Methodist); two Resurrection Celebrations; and two baptism services.

Here are some of the unexpected things we saw happening during our Holy Week services:

• Although all of the multisensory "stations" were popular, three times a many people visited the prayer station (where they could kneel, light a candle, and offer prayers) than visited any of the other stations.
• An increased number of participants were voluntarily crossing themselves (with the sign of the cross) at various times as compared to what we've seen in past years.
• Many people arrived up to 30 minutes early each night, often using the extra time to visit the stations or more often -- to kneel, light a candle, and pray.
• The singing of hymns was unusually energetic and passionate (a majority of our people favor choruses over hymns).
• When those attending were encouraged to pray spontaneously and out-loud, nearly everyone did!  Normally, we witness 30% (at best) of our people praying out loud when invited to do so.
• When any given service would end, everyone seemed to hang around and fellowship a lot longer than usual.  They may have been "weeknights", but you wouldn't have known it.
• On a couple of occasions, we needed to ask for on-the-spot volunteers to serve as scripture readers.  Wow!  We discovered some amazing, hidden talents.

If I had to pick that part of Holy Week which impacted me the most, I would --  without hesitation -- say it was the Holy Wednesday Vespers service, and it's theme of "betrayal" (and the way it revealed to me my own unfaithfulness and betrayal) as well as the Easter sunrise service with its emphasis on the renewal of our baptismal vows (something I had never experienced prior to then) before the receiving of Holy Communion. It was indeed a blessed Holy Week, and I can hardly wait for next year!

If, by chance, anyone is interested in getting their hands on the actual service liturgies I put together for any of the services mentioned above -- especially Holy Monday through Easter Sunrise -- I'd be happy to share them with you.  Just send me an email request.

Oh! There is one last thing:  If you have any Holy Week experiences yourself that you'd like to share,

My colleague and partner in ministry has been blogging for some time now.  He is an extraordinarily transparent and insightful person, as his most recent post makes refreshingly clear.  You'll definitely enjoy  "Diary of a Saved Man" -- a blog that I highly recommend.

For many disenfranchised Roman Catholics, an evangelical Protestant church is probably the last place they'd expect to experience the familiarity and comfort of ritual, yet I believe this is exactly what an increasing number of former Catholics are discovering.  Why do I say this?  Because it's exactly what's happening within my own church and several other congregations I'm aware of.  My hunch is that this is far more common than many realize.

There are undoubtedly many reasons why Catholics fall out of fellowship with the church. For some, it may have been the decision to marry outside of the Church, or the experience of a painful divorce.  For others, it may have been the way they were treated by certain parishioners or one of the priests.  Yet, despite their "reasons", they eventually found themselves outside the faith community which was once home.

As the years went by, and when their desire for spiritual things began to grow, they often started exploring what options might be available to them.  Many ended up visiting one or more Protestant churches.  Sometimes these were disappointing experiences (the reasons for which would constitute a separate post), but many times they were just the opposite.  What these former Catholics encountered was a vibrant, highly personal and enthusiastic expression of faith they had never seen before.  This was thrilling, and they ended up integrating into those congregations.

In today's rapidly changing postmodern world, I've become convinced that people are both longing and looking for something different -- often, something older, wiser, stronger -- something ancient.  Strange as it may seem to some, the sights, sounds, and substance of the faith and practice of the ancient Church is increasingly showing up in evangelical Protestant churches. And it's not just born-and-bred evangelicals who are eating this up -- it's an increasing number of disenfranchised Catholics, who enjoy the liturgical prayers, the elevated emphasis on the Eucharistic and who even feel free enough to make the sign of the cross during worship.

As a evangelical Protestant pastor who himself is engulfed in this amazing phenomenon, I frequently find myself wondering what else I might do to extend the hand of invitation and welcome to the disenfranchised Catholics in my community.  I strongly delineate, by the way, between "disenfranchised" Catholics and "non-practicing" Catholics.  When it comes to the later, I have always encouraged such to re-engage their faith and practice at their local Roman Catholic parish.  When this happens within my own city, I always sing the praises of the local RC parish and the priests there -- with whom I have the privilege of being in relationship.

In old-school evangelical churches, one continues to hear an abundance of "Catholic-bashing."  But times have already begun to change, and my prayer is that a new day is indeed dawning within our Lord's Church, where former "Catholics" and, in a sense, former "Protestants" are now worshiping together... and loving it.

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Photo credit: © Dieter Hawlan, iStockphoto.com

It's practically insane, but this is the SIXTH installment of what has long been -- in terms of Google search referrals -- the most popular blog topic EVER here at desertpastor.com!  And people continue to leave comments in response to these posts, even years after they were originally published.  Amazing.

So then, here is part 6 of "What Does A Clerical Collar Say?"

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It has been my practice over the past 3 years to wear my collar to the funeral services I periodically conduct, and up until last week, I really haven't had anyone comment or say anything to me in regards to my attire.  And then last week, as I walked into the local mortuary's business office, one of the staffers -- in reference to me -- turned and asked a coworker, "is he Catholic?"

The remark caught me a little off-guard, but I ended up not responding since the comment wasn't directed to me in the first place. It did, however, get me thinking about this topic again.

Why are so many people doing Google searches about clerical collars?  Is a bona fide "trend" beginning to emerge?  Are pastors and others doing ministry starting to grow weary of the plain-vanilla "everyone-is-a-minister-therefore-everyone-should-look-the-same" mentality that has dominated much of contemporary evangelicalism for the past 50+ years?  Are pastors and clergy searching for something that outwardly signals and signifies the spiritual authority that heretofore has remained somewhat hidden and unseen by the general populace?  Is the growing both-and reality -- that all people are ministers within the body of Christ at the same time that some people are uniquely set apart in leadership and authority roles -- in need of visual markers that set them apart in order to better accommodate a visually oriented culture?

These are some of the questions still rattling around in my head as I continue to ponder the pros and cons of wearing "clericals."  And as always, I welcome your insights and look forward to your posts.

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Photo credit: © Bob Thomas, iStockphoto.com

Community. It's practically a mantra these days, especially among reformers and within Emerging Church circles. We say we want authentic community, but we we're not quite sure how to experience it or even what it should really look like.  Some blame decades of institutionalized Christianity, devoid of true community, for getting us into this quandary.  Others point to the evils of individualism which continues to segregate and distance us from one another.

Scripture may offer another perspective:

"The human heart is most deceitful and desperately wicked. Who really knows how bad it is? Jeremiah 17:9 (NLT)

While doing some reading this morning, I came across these sobering thoughts from Jean Vanier:

Community is a terrible place, a place where our limitations are egoisms are revealed to us.  When we begin to live full time with others we discover our poverty and our weaknesses, our inability to get on with others... our mental and emotional blocks; our affective and sexual disturbances, our frustrations and jealousies... and our hatred and desire to destroy.

If Vanier is right -- and I suspect that's the case -- then I honestly wonder how many of us REALLY want community? Are we truly ready to make the sacrifices and pay the price necessary to live in community as the body of Christ?

What are your thoughts?

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Photo credit: © Nina Shannon, iStockphoto.com

My memories of playing Little League Baseball are all fond ones: working hard, mastering the fundamentals, developing my strengths, enjoying the benefits of teamwork, and learning how to win... and lose with dignity.  I was always grateful that my father signed me up for the sport.  Although he was never a coach and never showed up at practice, he always helped me work on my pitching and rarely missed my weekend games.  It was a time in my family's life when seemingly everything revolved around Little League.

Today, this sports-oriented lifestyle has dramatically increased for many families.  Children are regularly enrolled in multiple sports leagues that keep them -- and their families -- busy year round.  And where it used to be nearly unheard of for children's sports leagues to schedule games on Sundays, or even Wednesday nights, the reality today is that any day of the week is fair game. 

Although this shift hardly impacted normal, unchurched families at all, it continues to have a profound effect on the faith practices of church-going families. Commitments once made to one's community of faith are increasingly being dropped by adults in order to keep their children involved in volleyball, basketball, little league, pop-warner, and a variety of other sports.  And as already mentioned, it's no longer one sports "season" each year that necessitates their absence from church.  Christian parents are commonly enrolling their children in multiple sports that keep the entire family busy all year, and distanced from the lessons and benefits of growing and living out one's faith in a community of faith.

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Asherah poles. 

More than merely the implements of the pagan worship of Asher, the presence of Asherah poles in ancient Israel signaled the sad compromise God's people repeatedly made with the culture around them. From before the Hebrews ever entered the promised land, God's instructions were clear:

Be careful not to make a treaty with those who live in the land where you are going, or they will be a snare among you. Break down their altars, smash their sacred stones and cut down their Asherah poles. Do not worship any other god, for the Lord, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God. Exodus 34:12-14 (NIV)

Yet despite such warnings and threats, God's people repeatedly fell prey to the temptation of living like their neighbors. It's as if something within them loathed the very thing they should have been proud of:  They were unique, different, and set-apart from their neighbors  -- for they were God's own chosen people -- yet they repeatedly cast this distinction aside in order to behave like the nations around them.

What's the Connection?

It's certainly no revelation that idolatry in today's world has quite a different look than it did 3000 years ago.  In a nation where the vast majority of citizens claim adherence to some form or another of Christianity, American "Christians" have fashioned a plethora of contemporary idolatries for themselves. In fact, it is a widely-held belief that anything -- indulged in to an extreme, or that usurps God's rightful place in our lives --  becomes idolatrous.  And this is exactly what is happening when it comes to the excessive participation in sports leagues by children today. 

The fact that one's neighbors or co-workers have their children constantly enrolled in one sport followed by the next doesn't justify the same extreme behavior on the part of Christian parents. In so many instances, the sports involvement of children is keeping both them and their parents disconnected from their church families and the importance of worshiping together.  The pursuit of teamwork and the development of sports skills are great, but when sports involvement usurps the corporate practice of one's faith, it becomes a shameful idolatry and an insult to God.

We need Heroes.

More than ever, we need heroes. Heroes in the faith.  Heroes who show us how to live as salt and light in this world rather than being compromised by it, withdrawing from it, or simply standing in judgment of it.  Heroes whose witness is consistently missional rather than seasonal. We need heroes with the courage to cut down the asherah poles in their lives and who are committed to lead their families in pursuing their faith with purity and holiness.  We need heroes like Jehoshaphat:

His heart was courageous in the ways of the Lord; and furthermore he removed the high places and the sacred poles from Judah.  - 2 Chronicles 17:6 (NRSV)

It takes courage to go against the flow, to resist temptation and lay down one's wants and desires for the sake of a higher good.  It takes courage to live differently than one's neighbors, not in a condescending manner but positively, lovingly, and winsomely. We need heroes who understand such things and lead the way so that others might follow.

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A Final Word.

In no way am I trying to vilify children's sports.  And I am certainly not suggesting that excessive sports involvement is the only form of contemporary idolatry. But I am interested in drawing attention deliberately and specifically to a behavior -- and more importantly, to the mindset behind it -- that must be challenged and (hopefully) seriously modified.  It's time for the asherah poles of excessive sports involvement by our children to finally be cut down.

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Photo credit: © Trevor Fisher, iStockphoto.com