Glad Prisoners of Hope

By Dr. Lee Canipe

During the long struggle to end apartheid in South Africa, journalist Ted Koppel interviewed Anglican bishop Desmond Tutu on Nightline. Koppel asked Tutu, himself a black South African, if the situation in that country was hopeless. “Of course, it’s hopeless from a human point of view,” replied the bishop. “But we believe in the resurrection, and so we are prisoners of hope.” An odd way to put it, perhaps, but also wonderfully accurate: Once we put our faith in something as preposterous as resurrection, it’s impossible to look at the world again in quite the same way.

If we can believe that God raised Jesus Christ from the grave, then it becomes hard to believe that any situation is ever beyond redemption, that any relationship is ever beyond reconciliation, that any person is ever beyond the reach of God’s powerful love. To believe in resurrection is to be captured by a hope that simply doesn’t conform to reason and, in fairness, can sound awfully foolish—especially given the fact that there’s nothing at all common-sensical about resurrection. If we can believe in resurrection, then even in our most cynical moments, the hope that holds us will find a way to whisper in our hearts: “Yeah, but with God, nothing is impossible.” The nineteenth century English poet Francis Thompson likened resurrection hope to being chased by the “hounds of heaven.” It’s hard to get away from—and aren’t we glad of that?!

And so, what does that mean for us? Well, for starters, it means that the Holy Spirit has given us the power to do the work of Jesus—and, in fact, says Jesus, to do “greater works than these, because I am going to the Father” (John 14:12). People who believe in resurrection look for where God is moving and then join God there, trusting that what the Lord has blessed will indeed bear good fruit. Sometimes this requires a leap of faith, stepping out into the unknown and trusting that God will be there—which, really, is the very essence of resurrection hope. May it be so with us. Alleluia!

The exchange between Koppel and Tutu is from From Our Christian Heritage, ed. Douglas Weaver (Macon, Ga.: Smyth & Helwys, 1997), 365.

Lee Canipe is the pastor of Murfreesboro Baptist Church in Murfreesboro, NC. This article originally appeared in their church newsletter, The Messenger.

An Easter on God's Acre

Home Moravian Church, Old Salem, Winston-Salem, NC

by Rev. Dr. Davis Vess

The “Salem” part of Winston-Salem refers to the historic Moravian village of Salem. Every Easter morning, in the early hours of this day, thousands of people, many of them tourists who have come especially for this event, make their way towards the courtyard in front of a 200-year-old church, founded by the Moravians. Before daylight, five hundred members of various brass bands echo hymns from different parts of the city. Everyone converges on Salem Square to listen to the almost mystical-sounding music. As the first hint of the rising sun begins to soften the darkness, a hush falls over the vast throng of worshipers. When the church bell tolls at 6 a. m., the Bishop emerges from the church and announces in a loud, unwavering voice, "Christ is Risen!" And the crowd thunders back, "Christ is Risen indeed!" Then the band begins to play "Christ the Lord Is Risen Today," and everyone joins in the singing there in front of the church.

God's Acre, Old Salem, Winston-Salem, NC

Then, in total silence, they walk in faithful procession to "God's Acre," an ancient cemetery, where all the graves, with their newly-polished gravestones, are covered with flowers. Even the oldest graves, some of them dating back three hundred years, are decorated with forsythia, jonquils, tulips, azaleas - whatever happens to be blooming at the time. The service concludes there, with more singing and remembrance of those who have died since the previous Easter. There, in the awesome silence, with the beauty of the flowers all around, it's as if the living are united with the dead in worship. A writer who witnessed the event said, "When you are in the midst of all this majesty and beauty, you cannot fail to believe in the resurrection."

And so it is in thousands of churches of every denomination all around the world on this greatest of days, Easter. The Day of Resurrection. The day of joy and hope. The central day of our faith and witness. Christmas is nice, but it's not Easter. Anybody can get excited about Christmas, giving and receiving presents, oohing and aahing over the baby born in Bethlehem. But when you come right down to it Christmas would not be Christmas without Easter.

David Vess is the pastor of Swift Creek Baptist Church in Raleigh. This article originally appreared in their church newsletter, the Swift Creek Chronicler.

Five Lessons from "The Hunger Games"

By Rev. Felicia Fox

Last night I took a bus full of teens to see The Hunger Games. Unless you have been living under a rock or in a cave for the last few weeks, I’m sure you have heard a ton about this movie. It may seem strange to some that I took the youth group to see the movie as a church event. I have read the books and even saw the movie before loading up the bus and taking my students. I have no regrets about taking the youth. In fact, I think there are many good lessons our teens need to hear from the movie.

1) Hope is stronger than fear. Many teenagers live in fear. They fear bullies, violence at school, losing homes because parents have lost jobs, being hungry when school is out and free lunches at school have stopped for the summer, or abuse at home. The Hunger Games show teens that they can live in a world of hope and they can even be agents of hope to those around them.

2) You don’t have to follow the status quo. Katniss Everdeen saw the injustice and the poverty around her and decided to take action. She wasn’t afraid to make a stand for what was right and make a difference. Katniss was a leader. Teens need to know that they can be leaders to and they have the power to change the world for better.

3) Be true to yourself. Peeta Mellark has one of the best quotes in The Hunger Games. He says, “Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to…to show the Capitol they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games.” Peeta was willing to not compromise who he was. Teens need to know that they have a right to be who they are and to stand up for what they believe is right. The world could be a better place if more teens felt empowered to live out their convictions.

4) Caring for others doesn’t make you weak. Katniss loved people and showed it. We see this in all the relationships she has in the movie. She cares for her sister, Gale, Rue, and Peeta and her actions show it. Teens have a ton of friends but they don’t really have a lot of people they care about on a deeper level. Most teens don’t feel cared for on a deeper level. It is hard for teens to develop and be open to deep relationships. Katniss shows us that it is okay to have true relationships.

5) Heroes can be girls too. That’s a lesson I hope all of my youth last night picked up on. Even if we don’t want to admit it, we still live in a world where girls and women are often seen as weaker. As a female minister, I have firsthand experience with this. I’ve been told more than once that because of my gender God can’t use me. Both male and female teens need to see positive heroes of all shapes, ages, colors, and gender. They all need to know that they have the power to be a hero to someone and that God has created them the way they are on purpose.

As you hear the teens around you talking about The Hunger Games take time to bring up some of these lessons. Maybe this movie can be a conversation starter to talk about something more than surface level topics with your teens. Feel free to comment below. I would love to hear from you. “And may the odds be ever in your favor.”

Felicia Fox is the Minister of Youth and Children at First Baptist Church of Mount Olive, NC. This article originally appeared on her blog.

A Different Kind of Baptist

by Rev. Laura Barclay

Recently, I attended the 20th annual General Assembly of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship in Tampa and stayed in a hotel which was full of two groups: CBF Baptists and participants in a worldwide ballroom dancing championship. Elevator rides bordered on the comedic: reserved Baptists in their polos and khakis standing shoulder to shoulder with dancers wearing long, feathery dresses and elaborate headpieces who kissed one another on the cheek and excitedly recounted their performances. The contrast between the two groups could not have been more drastic. However, members of these two groups mingled jovially in the lobby, and some Baptists even made it to a few of their competitions.

I was fortunate enough to overhear one conversation in the lobby, as a female dancer recounted a conversation with a CBF minister to her male dance partner:

“…and he said this group was a different kind of Baptist. He said that this group was more accepting and open and not like what I’d heard before with all that fire and brimstone. I told him I was spiritual but not religious. And then he shared his fascination with Christian mystics. I didn’t even know there were any! And he tells me that his church has done studies on the history of mystics and spirituality. I never heard of Baptists being into spirituality! And then, do you know what he told me? He said that he had two female ministers on staff, and one of them was a lesbian. Can you believe it? This kind of church would accept people like you and me! So he gave me his church’s website and contact information so I could access their resources on spirituality and learn more about them. I think I’m going to check it out and give him a call…”

This woman was beginning to overcome past rejection from interactions with unhealthy churches to the point where she could speak redemptively about the witness of this unnamed CBF minister. Sometimes, I struggle with calling myself a Baptist. That name has a lot of baggage that conjures up images of exclusion. In the last few years of working with CBF of North Carolina, I’ve been able to find pride in a Baptist identity that comes from engaging with more moderate and progressive churches who adhere to founding Baptist principles like soul freedom, the separation of church and state, and the autonomy of the local church. For me, this conversation between two dancers evoked not only a sense of pride in claiming the name “Baptist,” but also a feeling of immense hope for the next chapter of CBF life. May the next twenty years be filled with conversations of welcome, hope, and mission that exhibit the love of Christ being extended to all people.

Christmas Lessons from a Toddler

by Rev. Laura Barclay

 We all have multiple titles and identities, but the one of which I’m the most proud is the role of “Aunt Laura.” My sister, Jeri, and brother-in-law, Hans, have been intentional about closing the 400-mile gap between us by sending photos and videos of my niece, Téa, on a weekly basis. In watching these videos, I’ve been fascinated by her sense of wonder at Christmas. The lights and sounds are affecting her as if she’s conscious of them for the first time. When I came home for Thanksgiving, I was eager to see what she said about each holiday.

As her mother and I were explaining Thanksgiving and Christmas, she understood that one of them was Jesus’ birthday. We kept working to distinguish the two and told her that we would start to celebrate Jesus’ arrival after Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving Day came, and Téa sat at the table, eating her food and looking from face to face. She got down from her chair after eating, ran around playing, and gave out hugs. Soon Téa laid down on the floor, crossed and elevated her legs, clasped her hands and looked up at the ceiling—an exercise she’s done since before she could walk that we’ve affectionately dubbed “baby yoga.” She seems to do this when she’s thinking or wants to relax. Téa looked at Jeri and asked, “Where Jesus? I thought we see him today. He come see me?” After a moment of “awwws” from the family, my sister explained that Jesus was always with her and loved her very much. She looked up at the ceiling, resuming her “baby yoga,” and thought for a minute. “He love me?” she asked. “Yes, Jesus loves you very much,” my sister replied. After a few more minutes in thought, Téa resumed her play time and commands of Uncle Ryan to “be a giant” and chase her. Before the week was out, we had built Téa her first fort and invented games she played for the first time as if they were magic.

This childlike wonder at the world, with its close by-product of hope, was infectious. As much as I am annoyed by many of the commercial aspects of Christmas, I’ve struggled to come to terms with it and stake a claim on the meaningful aspects of the holiday. As Christians, we must do this in order to honor the reason we celebrate. It may be as simple as finding a child to remind you to look for that star in the East as a sign of hope, rather than to be consumed with the bargains of Black Friday. That child might inspire you to look for the newborn that shall be called Emmanuel, God With Us, who will show us a new Way and let us know that we are truly the beloved of God. How is the hope for a new Way exhibited in your life? How will you let others know that they, too, are loved? May you have a blessed and hope-filled Christmas.

New Year's Reflection

by Rev. Laura Barclay

John: 1-5, 12: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What had come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it…But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God (NRSV).

What really strikes me in this lectionary New Year’s text is John’s vision of Jesus as a light against the darkness who enlightens his children, whom the author says are given power to be “children of God.” Such language conjures up images of Lord of the Ring, with Frodo facing the dreadful gates of Mordor, or the movie Gladiator, with Maximus alone having the courage to challenge a corrupt emperor. It brings to mind epic sagas of far off and exotic places. But let’s examine the world and context in which our author was writing.

According to scholars, the community of John’s followers had recently undergone a split. Theological differences arose between those who believed that Jesus was both human and deity, and those who believed he was all-deity. This community splintered and separated, and those left behind were wounded, broken, and left nursing their wounds from the fracture in the body of Christ. These people in John’s community, the legacy of the beloved disciple, saw themselves as inheritors of the legacy of Christ. It was up to them to teach who Jesus really was and share the hope that came from Jesus’ incarnation.

The pain of John’s community at the bickering and separation of their own seeps onto the paper but it doesn’t define them. They share the love of God who became human in Jesus and experienced the pain of rejection like John’s community. And, I believe they found salvation in embracing that hopeful love that reorients them facing ever outward in a broken world.

Because of the importance of the task at hand, this monumental story they have to tell, they speak of the light and the darkness—loaded metaphors for good and evil, being in the presence of God and outside of it. The darkness is a vast and seemingly formless void, just like what God witnessed at the beginning of everything. Yet the light of hope we see in Christ shines through the ages and guides us into community and toward one another. We are the presence of Christ and hope in the world, because Jesus gave us the power to be God’s children.

And that is the power of community. Like John’s community, we’ve experienced fractures. Whether denominationally, ideologically, or economically, these last few years have not been easy. But that’s the great thing about a new year. We look to God and know that no matter how much we’ve been bogged down in recessions, unemployment, war, health care debates, and the unseemly partisan rhetoric of the world around us, we have the power as the children of God to set a new tone. We can’t keep bad things from happening, but we can react with love. Together, we can be an unfailing light that fights back the darkness of despair. We can exit our church walls after the 11:00 o’clock sermon is over and vow to continually help our neighbors and share our love with them.

We must bring hope, peace, love and joy beyond the walls of the churches and religious buildings to which our faith too often remains confined. John Chapter 1 is an encouraging reminder to go forth—we have an example to follow! That example is a poor Jewish baby born 2,000 years ago who had the courage to love. That blessed child walked with God and exhibited love to everyone. It wasn’t a polite, meek love, regardless of his humble beginnings. It was a love that challenged the times, threatened the status quo, and overturned (sometimes literally) the position and power of those in religious and political authority. It was a love that called him to heal, embrace, lift up, and teach. He crossed social boundaries to show that love. What a powerful teacher we have in that child, who gave hope to a world wrought with suffering, oppression, slavery, and death. Let us remember to shine our light in the darkness, no matter how overwhelming. Let us remember that together, our lights shine brighter to overcome the darkness of brokenness, exclusion, hunger, injustice and poverty. Let us have the courage to love as Jesus loved and loves us still. Let us be open to the love of others. Let that be our resolution.