The hospital waiting room on the 4th floor at Northeast Alabama Regional Medical Center in Anniston was empty and quiet. The only sounds were the dinging of the elevator in the distance and the clanging of the food cart as meal trays were being collected from the patients’ rooms down a nearby hallway.

While visiting with my father-in-law in room 416, I had taken a break and parked myself in a chair in the corner of the waiting room to check a few emails and respond to a few voicemails. That is when I heard it. The music started. I recognized the tune as Brahm’s Lullaby. I also knew what it meant. A baby had just been born on the 3rd floor in the Labor and Delivery Unit.

As I sat wondering whether the baby was a boy or a girl, and imagining the excitement of parents and grandparents, I heard the elevator ding even as the lullaby continued to play. But rather than a food cart returning to continue the collection ritual, I saw a man in a dark suit pushing an empty stretcher covered with a velvet blanket. His identification badge indicated that he was not from the hospital but from Chapel Hill Funeral Home and he was there for a different kind of collection ritual. As he passed the waiting room and entered the Oncology Unit, the lullaby faded. And in my mind, a requiem began to play.

Now I wondered whether the deceased was male or female, young or old. Was the patient a person of faith? Did the family have a support group? Did the person have a full and meaningful life? Or did this dreaded disease interrupt the life of one far too young?

Although I deal with a mix of emotions every day in my work as a pastor, I don’t recall such an abrupt and emphatic reminder that life exists in the juxtaposition between birth and death. A life had begun and a life had ended on the same day in the same place at almost the same time.

Coincidentally, earlier that morning, I had just completed outlining a sermon series about “Exploring the Meaning of Life” from the book of Ecclesiastes. In chapter 3 of this wisdom book we find the time poem, which includes the line stating that there is “a time to be born and a time to die.”

As I sat waiting for a biopsy to be performed on my wife’s dad I found myself reflecting on the span of one’s existence. Life is lived in this undetermined and unpredictable season between the lullaby and the requiem.

Every day is a gift, with no promise of tomorrow. The challenge is for us to discover meaning and purpose early on, and to spend our lives investing ourselves in consequential and influential acts of service rather than trivial pursuits. We have the opportunity to grow in faith, to build relationships, to explore the beauty of creation, to engage in a meaningful work, and to contribute to the well-being of others along the way.

When I left the waiting room to return to room 416, I noticed the stretcher, no longer vacant, departing room 422. The family had already gone. I watched respectfully as the man in the dark suit guided the gurney toward the elevator. And as he entered, two things occurred to me: 1) Someday that will be my body under the blanket, but not just yet, and 2) Obstetrics and Oncology are often only one elevator stop apart.

I suppose a person doesn’t have a lot of say so regarding when the lullaby announces the beginning of life’s journey and the requiem affirms the completion. But you and I do determine the song we will sing between the lullaby and the requiem. Sing it well!

(Barry Howard serves as Senior Minister at the First Baptist Church in Pensacola, Florida.)

God of all grace and mercy, as we celebrate our nation’s Independence Day, we are grateful for our heritage and concerned for our future.

We are thankful, Lord. We are grateful for the privilege of living in “the land of the free and the home of the brave.” We are thankful for those who came before us paving the way for unrivaled liberties that allow us to freely make choices about our work, our worship, our ideology, and lifestyle. We are indebted to past and present veterans who risked life and limb in the pursuit and protection of these freedoms.

From the “mountains to the prairies” we are inspired by some of the most spectacular and diverse landscapes on our planet. From “sea to shining sea” we are privileged to draw from a treasure trove of natural resources. We have access to comfortable housing, above average healthcare, an abundant wardrobe, a diverse menu of our favorite foods, and high tech communication and entertainment. We are certainly blessed beyond our deserving.

During this season of celebration we are grateful, yet concerned….concerned about our nation, concerned about our world, and concerned about the future.

From our many different perspectives and ideologies we are concerned about things like the threats of terrorism, the brutalities of war, the abuse of political power, the divisiveness of harsh and misleading political rhetoric, a lack of civil discourse, a growing sense of moral anarchy, and the possibility of an approaching storm or natural disaster. These concerns lead to heightened anxiety about the stability of our economy, the tenure of our employment, and the cost of our insurance.

And we confess that these anxieties often divert us from our mission to “minister to the least of these,” and to “love mercy, act justly, and walk humbly” with you.

These concerns and anxieties also remind us of our need to confess our sins, personally and corporately. We confess that we have too often taken our freedom for granted and we have too frequently been negligent in living up to the responsibilities of our citizenship. We confess that at times we are too quick to judge and even quicker to criticize. We confess that we are slow to intercede for our neighbors and our leaders, and even slower to trust in your leadership.

We confess that our self-interests have too often taken priority over the best interest you have in mind for our nation and for our world. We confess that we have been irresponsible in our stewardship of “our space and our stuff,” often consuming and storing compulsively without conscious regard for sharing. We confess that we have too often trusted in our own initiatives and ingenuity more than we have trusted in you.

You tell us in time-tested scripture that, “If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” (II Chronicles 7:14)

As we approach this Independence Day, we ask you to forgive our sin and to heal our land. On this day, we pray for the leaders of our nation, our state, and our community that they will lead with wisdom and courage.

We pray for the men and women who serve in our military that they will fulfill their mission effectively and return home safely and soon.

We pray for our enemies that their swords will also be “turned into plowshares,” even as we long for that day when the “lion will lie down alongside the lamb.”

We pray for the churches, cathedrals, and temples of our community and our world that they will be lighthouses of grace and peace, ever pressing toward the mark of our high calling.

Because you are the freedom-loving God, lead us to exercise our freedom responsibly and to pursue “liberty and justice for all” people around the globe.

We pray in the strong name of Jesus who came to make us free, indeed. Amen.

(Barry Howard serves as senior minister of the First Baptist Church of Pensacola, Florida.)

In our country the Fourth of July is the prime time to celebrate our many freedoms, especially our religious liberty.

Where will you worship this weekend? While many of us have appropriate plans in place this weekend to celebrate our nation’s independence with picnics, barbeques, ice cream, and fireworks, one of the most fitting ways to celebrate is to exercise our freedom to worship.

Our Baptists ancestors were among the many who contended for religious liberty for all faiths. The first amendment to the Constitution of the United States confirms that Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

As citizens of these United States, we enjoy greater freedoms than any nation on earth, but with great freedom comes great responsibility.

In light of our religious liberty, let us pray fervently for those who live in regions of the world that are subject to harsh religious persecution. As we freely choose where and when to worship, let us remember our brothers and sisters who will gather anxiously but faithfully in underground churches, taking risks unfamiliar to most of us, in order to worship God and gather with their fellow believers.

From my perspective, joining regularly with other believers to worship nurtures spiritual growth, fosters moral character, and encourages humanitarian service. Hebrews 10:25 reminds us, “Some people have gotten out of the habit of meeting for worship, but we must not do that. We should keep on encouraging each other, especially since you know that the day of the Lord’s coming is getting closer.” (CEV)

For believers to neglect the opportunity to gather for worship and Bible study is to trivialize the tremendous price paid for our freedom to assemble without fear of reprisal or repercussion. Perhaps the worst expression of historical amnesia is the tendency to take freedom for granted.

I think we best celebrate and preserve our liberty by exercising the privileges that accompany our extraordinary freedom. This week is a prime time to celebrate. Whether at home or traveling, make plans for a fun and festive day with family and friends. Take time to give thanks for our great heritage and to pray for our nation’s leaders. Most importantly, celebrate by exercising your freedom to worship, and respect the freedom of those in different denominations and other religions to do the same.

(Barry Howard serves as senior minister at First Baptist Church in Pensacola, Florida.)

Recently a family visited our church from what they described as a more contemporary church in the community. When a person or family visits with us from another local church, I always thank them for visiting, commend their church, and try to encourage their continued participation there.

However, as I spoke with this family, the father said, “We love our church, but our children are at an age where we are looking for a church that has Sunday School and sings hymns.” He went on to elaborate that he and his wife were talking one day and realized that they both wanted their children to experience Sunday School and to worship in a church that sings both hymns and contemporary songs.

I think I understand where he is coming from. I have an appreciation for various styles of worship and diverse models of “doing” church. In my own experience, Sunday School was one of the most formative and influential forces in my upbringing. After talking with this visiting family, my mind turned to the many valuable life lessons I learned growing up in Sunday School. Interestingly, the lessons I learned instilled in me a love for the Bible, an emerging faith in God, a moral compass, and sense of social etiquette.

Thanks to many faithful Sunday School teachers like Polly Foote, Pearl Lloyd, Sue Harrelson, Mary Lester, and Judy Smith, here are a few basic lessons that I internalized and that I continue to try to practice:

• Read the Bible daily.
• Confess your sins regularly and ask for God’s forgiveness.
• Trust Jesus with all of your problems, the little ones and the big ones.
• Be kind to everyone, especially strangers.
• Give the first 10% to the Lord.
• Pray for your family, friends, leaders, pastors, missionaries both at home and overseas, men and women in uniform at home and on foreign soil, and “all that is our duty to pray for.”
• “Judge not that ye be not judged.”
• Forgive others graciously, just as Christ has forgiven you.
• Never call people names.
• Serve God by serving others.
• Aim to please God, not other people.

Nowadays, I believe the Sunday School experience continues to be remarkably transformational for children and adults. Whether you call it Sunday School, Small Groups, Cell Groups, Life Groups, Christian Education, or Bible Study, gathering with a small group of believers on a regular basis to study the Bible, pray together, care for one another, and share life together instills a spirituality that is deeper than superficial religion.

Faith isn’t forged overnight. Durable faith seems to be cultivated and nurtured over time among folks of all ages who gather in community groups that look a lot like Sunday School.

(Barry Howard serves as Senior Minister at the First Baptist Church in Pensacola, Florida.)

In a culture that is increasingly attention-deficient, remembering is a painful but necessary discipline. The last Monday in May is designated for a unique and specific purpose: To remember.

Memorial Day usually does not generate as much holiday enthusiasm as Christmas, Easter, or Independence Day, perhaps because Memorial Day is more an observance than a celebration. Originally, Memorial Day was a day to remember those who fought in the Civil War, but later this day was expanded to recognize those who fought in all American wars. This important holiday is not just another “day off” but a day to remember those who have lost their lives in the military service of our country.

Remembering historical facts should help us to remain consciously aware of the harsh realities of global conflict, past and present. Revisiting stories from the battlefield may enable us to learn from both the successes and the failures of our national ancestry. When we remember the fallen we keep alive the individual and corporate legacies of valor and courage that inspire and challenge us to be responsible citizens of the free world.

For a free nation to remain free, remembering is imperative. John Logan urges us, “Let no vandalism of avarice or neglect, no ravages of time, testify to the present or to the coming generations, that we have forgotten, as a people, the cost of a free and undivided Republic.”

To fail to remember is to develop a convenient amnesia that eventually robs succeeding generations of their national heritage. To fail to remember creates a contagious apathy that leads to a neglect of both freedom and citizenship. To fail to remember can produce a false sense of protection and a perceived exemption from future warfare. A loss of memory eventually leads to a loss of national identity. Remembering is a painful but necessary discipline, a discipline that forges vision from memory, and a discipline that extracts wisdom from knowledge.

What are some things we can do to help remember and commemorate the contributions of those who lost their lives in battle?

• Read biographies of world leaders, military generals, POW’s, and holocaust survivors.
• Read historical accounts of crucial battles.
• View a documentary or movie that realistically portrays the stories of war.
• Visit historic sites such as battlefields, monuments, and military cemeteries.
• Visit with a veteran and listen firsthand to stories from the heat of battle.
• Give thanks for those who have fought for freedom and justice.
• Pray for those who are serving in military service today.
• Work for freedom, justice, and world peace.
• Practice and preserve religious liberty.
• Exercise your rights and fulfill your responsibilities as a citizen.

In The Roadmender Margaret Fairless Barber suggests that “To look backward for a while is to refresh the eye, to restore it, and to render it the more fit for its prime function of looking forward.”

Today is Memorial Day. A day to remember the past with gratitude and to look to the future with faith and fortitude.

In 1994 I was serving at the First Baptist Church of Williams near Jacksonville, Alabama when a tornado touched down on Palm Sunday near Ragland, Alabama and cut a trail to Rome, Georgia, demolishing hundreds of homes, destroying five church campuses, and taking 29 lives before leaving that area.

Eleven years later I began serving a church on the Gulf Coast and was dealing once again with the aftermath of destructive storms….Hurricanes Ivan, Cindy, Dennis, and Katrina. The experience I gleaned following the Palm Sunday Tornado prepared me to better serve and provide leadership in the aftermath of the coastal storms.

Once the storm passes, residents are faced with a haunting reality. Life will never be the same. For many, friends have been injured, homes have been destroyed, and irreplaceable family heirlooms lost. A sense of despair prevails. But for most, at least, life will continue.

Following the Palm Sunday tornado and the coastal hurricanes, the communities I served learned a lot about patience and perseverance. We learned a lot about grace and hope. We learned the importance of looking forward and not backward. We learned that our dreams trumped our nightmares. We learned a lot about faith and life.

At least five crucial lessons learned from storms past helped us to heal and move forward, slowly and progressively:

1. We learned that you have to grieve quickly, then get to work. Once the initial shock of the devastation has been absorbed, it’s time to channel all of your energy to re-building and moving forward. Despite the grief over things lost, there is a unique kind of joy that arises when you begin dreaming of the new things you can build…together. And interestingly, the challenge of re-building had a healing effect.

2. We learned emphatically that God doesn’t exempt folks from tragedy just because they have faith. I remember someone asking me, “Pastor, why do you think God let that tornado hit five churches on Sunday morning?” Since I can’t imagine God sitting in heaven and pushing a “Create Tornado” button, then hitting “Send” to a specific address, I remember responding, “Try drawing a line 55 miles in any direction on an Alabama map without hitting at least five churches.” The Bible says “it rains on the just and the unjust.” Since most churches are comprised of some combination of just and unjust people, I take that to mean that there is no place or people group who are given a free pass from natural disasters.

3. We learned that when the going gets tough, people of faith mobilize and work together cooperatively. After the Palm Sunday Tornado, the First Baptist Church in the Williams Community served as a Red Cross Relief Center. We partnered with the Cherokee Electric Cooperative, Bellsouth, and FEMA, and each of them did admirable work, eventually. But we also hosted Builders for Christ, Campers on Mission, Mennonite Response Teams, Alabama Baptist Disaster Relief Teams, and a Latter-Day Saints Team.

On the coast, a variety of churches and missional partners organized, rolled up their sleeves, and went to work. Volunteers from faith-based groups often organize quickly and dispatch to the scene, while professional and government groups are often slowed by paperwork and red tape restrictions. I distinctly remember many of the professional workers who partnered with us telling me how they admired the work ethic, the productivity, and the cooperative spirit of the volunteer teams from churches and faith-based organizations.

4. All kinds of talents and skill levels are needed for clean-up and re-building. We were fortunate to have a huge corps of skilled personnel who managed chain saws, dozers, cranes, and front-end loaders. However, we also needed folks to cook food, drive trucks, pick up debris, run errands, care for children, visit the elderly, sweep the floor, manage communications, and do household cleaning. In disaster relief, every job is important and every volunteer has something to offer. Never underestimate the importance of doing all the good you can, where you can, when you can.

If you want to volunteer, always connect with a group such as the Red Cross, the Salvation Army, or a church group. Don’t just strike out on your own.

5. Relief work builds community. We learned that remarkable bonding occurs in the field. The sense of community born among those who work together following a storm forges a spiritual kinship that lasts for a lifetime… or longer.

This week many of us have grieved with and prayed for the people of Oklahoma after this devastating F5 tornado that has taken 24 lives. In the beginning, I am sure the local residents are feeling shock, anger, and a nearly overwhelming sense of despair. But the people of Oklahoma are resilient. As the rescue and recovery phase comes to a close, residents will be drying their tears, rolling up their sleeves, and getting ready to repair and rebuild, because there are some things deep inside that the strongest storm cannot destroy.

(Barry Howard serves as senior pastor at the First Baptist Church of Pensacola.)

When it comes to observing Mother’s Day at church, traditions vary around the country. Factors influencing a congregation’s contextual practice include geographic location, denominational heritage, liturgical preference, and congregational precedent.

In my first pastorate, I inherited that southern tradition I call “the Mother’s Day Flower Awards.” This tradition, which occurred during the morning worship service, called for the pastor to wish all mothers a “Happy Mother’s Day,” and then to recognize the oldest mother, the youngest mother, and the mother with the most children. Those mothers would come forward and the Mother’s Day Committee, an ad hoc committee appointed by the pastor, would pin a corsage on each of these distinguished mothers for them to wear the remainder of the day.

This tradition was not without its complications. Much informal debate surrounded the eligibility of the award winning mothers. For example, if the oldest mother was a visitor and not a church member, was she eligible? Or, what if the youngest mother was not married? Was the award to the mother with most children to be presented to the mother who bore the most children or the mother with the most children present in the worship service? These questions often generated more lively and passionate discussion than the virgin birth, the trinity, and the coming apocalypse.

On the second Mother’s Day at my inaugural pastorate, I was duly fulfilling my pastoral obligation to preside over the Mother’s Day Flower Awards when a bit of a controversy erupted. The Oldest Mother corsage was presented to a 96 year old matriarch. The Youngest Mother corsage was presented to a 21 year old newlywed just prior to her first anniversary. But the Mother with the Most Children corsage was presented under protest.

The method of determining the mother with the most children entailed an interesting process of elimination. Following the tradition forged by my pastoral ancestors, I would ask all the mothers to stand. Then I would ask mothers with two or more children to remain standing. Those with less than the stated number of children would be seated as they were eliminated from contention for this prestigious honor. Then I would count upwards, three or more children, four or more children, and so forth, until only one or two mothers remained standing. Then I would ask, how many children do you have? And the winner would be determined.

In my orientation to the rules of the Mother’s Day Flower Awards, I learned that on occasions there is a tie for Mother with the Most Children. Therefore the committee, who always had an extra corsage on hand, would bestow the honor on both mothers.

However, no one had prepared me for the dilemma I faced on that second Mother’s Day. There were two mothers left standing once the count reached eight or more children. So I asked each mother, “How many children do you have?” and the first replied, “Nine.” When I asked the second mother, she replied, “Eleven.” I spontaneously said to this mother of eleven, “Wow! Congratulations. Come on down to receive your corsage.”

As she was coming forward, another mother who was obviously rooting for the mother with nine children to win, said, “That’s not right. Those are not all her kids.” And another mother, who happened to be a former member of the Mother’s Day Flower Awards committee said, “Pastor, we usually don’t count the husband’s children from a previous marriage. Those eleven kids aren’t all hers.”

So there I stood, a young pastor in the middle of a congregational debate in worship about which mother should get the “most children” corsage. I made a Solomonic decision. I simply said, “Since we are blessed to have two mothers with such a large number of children, I am going to ask both mothers to come forward and be recognized with a corsage.”

Thankfully, both mothers smiled, the congregation applauded. And I preached an inspiring Mother’s Day sermon while inwardly pledging never to give Mother’s Day Flower Awards again.

Nowadays, I simply wish all mothers, grandmothers, stepmothers, soon-to-be mothers, wanna-be mothers, and other mother figures a “Happy Mother’s Day” during the welcome prior to worship. Then we worship God with gratitude for all motherly influences without pinning a flower on any mother, or putting any mother on a pedestal.

For churches in the Deep South, the de facto liturgical calendar revolves around Christmas, Easter, Mother’s Day, Decoration Day, Father’s Day, Fourth of July, and Veteran’s Day rather than Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, Pentecost, and Ordinary Time.

Early in my ministry, I discovered that Mother’s Day might be the most sensitive of all of the holidays. I’m not sure whether our notions about what should happen in church on Mother’s Day are instigated by nostalgia or a gentile respect for the influential role of a mother. I’m pretty sure, however, that many of our ecclesial customs need more thoughtful theological reflection, including the way that we approach Mother’s Day.

In recent years I have tried to move away from the traditions of my early pastorates. My first pastor had a custom of recognizing the oldest mother, the youngest mother, and the mother with the most children. Rather than eliminate the tradition altogether, I encouraged them toward a more inclusive practice of giving a flower, usually a rose or carnation, to every mother present, a practice that was adopted by the second church I served.

With time, however, I have grown more and more convinced that worship is a time to focus on God, and specific recognitions occurring on days such as Mother’s Day or Father’s Day should take place before or after, and not during the time of worship.

Nowadays, I approach days such as Mother’s Day differently every year. Walter Brueggemann refers to this unstarched approach to worship planning as “liturgical maneuverability.”

Here are some of the assorted ways I have planned for Mother’s Day in recent years:

1. If Mother’s Day falls during a time I am preaching a series of sermons, whether topical or from the lectionary, I do not usually interrupt the series to insert a Mother’s Day sermon. I simply wish all of the different types of mothers present a “Happy Mother’s Day” during the time of welcome, and continue with the sermon series.

2. Occasionally, I will plan a Mother’s Day or Father’s Day service around a theme related to the stewardship of parenting, but since these holidays are 5 weeks apart, I don’t plan a parenting emphasis for both in the same year.

3. Our Associate Minister for Young Adults and Discipleship is a young adult parent and excellent preacher, so periodically I will ask him to preach a sermon on marriage, family, or parenting on Mother’s Day.

4. Our church may occasionally plan a time for Parent-Child Dedication on Mother’s Day. Although we have several opportunities for such dedications throughout the year, Mother’s Day seems to be an optimal time for such an observance.

5. This year I have invited some of the mothers in our church to share the sermon. I have asked six mothers (three mothers in each of our two services) to speak during worship on Mother’s Day. I have asked them to speak for 8-10 minutes each on how their faith shapes their parenting. These mothers represent the rich diversity of our congregation. Two of the mothers have twins. Two of the mothers have recently adopted a child. One of the mothers is a great grandmother with four generations present in our church and community. The final mother is now a caregiver for her mother, and an encourager to her daughter whose child was recently diagnosed with autism.

Because members of the congregation bring a variety of expectations to any holiday service, I try to keep three goals in mind as I plan for Mother’s Day:
• I aim to plan an experience of worship that is meaningful, relevant, and theo-centric.
• I aim to encourage and equip those present in their journey of faith, individually and collectively.
• I aim to be sensitive to those for whom Mother’s Day brings pain or anxiety, including worshippers who have recently lost a mother, mothers who have lost a child, women who for some reason could not have children, women who have chosen not to have children, and worshippers who survived abuse by a mother.

Whether the service is thematic or ordinary, days like Mother’s Day present a great opportunity to speak a word of good news to the sporadic worshipper who attends out of a sense of nostalgia, but leaves with an awareness of grace.

(Barry Howard serves as Senior Minister of the First Baptist Church of Pensacola.)

Next week is called Holy Week, not because we are to “act” holy, but because it is a most appropriate week for us to feel the passion of Christ. Around the globe, Christ-followers and other inquirers will be reflecting on the events leading up to the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ. What is the significance of Holy Week and how can I probe its deeper meaning?

Our tradition of observing Holy Week seems to have originated in the East, emerging out of the practice of pilgrimages to Jerusalem. Each day of Holy Week is significant. For those of us whose faith was shaped in a Baptist tradition, at least four days call for guided reflection. Palm Sunday is a day to revisit the royal welcome extended to Jesus by the curious crowd as he entered Jerusalem. On Maundy Thursday believers recall the occasion when Jesus washed the feet of the disciples as he gave them a new mandate to love and serve. On Maundy Thursday evening, many faith communities re-enact “the last supper” when Jesus broke bread and shared the cup with his disciples by receiving the elements of communion. Good Friday is an occasion to feel the passion of Christ and to think on the enormity of his suffering. And Resurrection Sunday, or Easter, is a festive day to celebrate and proclaim that “Christ is risen; Christ is risen indeed!”

Because of the sequential significance of these events, Holy Week is best approached slowly, with an attitude of reverent exploration, a spiritual mood of sacred awe. In Weldon Gaddy’s book, The Gift of Worship, he describes our opportunity to engage in a more meaningful experience of the passion of Christ: “Holy Week services bring into focus dimensions of discipleship that are missed completely by a simple leap from Palm Sunday to Easter. Worship services which take seriously the truths of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday please God because they challenge a greater commitment and a more effective ministry among the people of God.”

This year as you begin your spiritual journey through Holy Week, open your senses and your imagination to both the tragedy and the triumph of this pivotal week in history. Take time to listen to the voices of the crowd as Jesus enters the city. Hear again the teachings of Jesus and contemplate his days in Jerusalem. Feel the water touch your feet, taste the morsel of bread on your tongue and the sip of wine rolling over your lips. Sense the disgust of his betrayal by a friend. Smell the stench of the scourge and hear the mocking sarcasm of the trial. Grieve over the cruel injustice of his execution and experience the passion of his incomprehensible suffering. And ultimately…consider the mysterious power of the resurrection and the hope generated by the notion that life invested in Christ cannot be extinguished, even by the reality of death.

The events of Holy Week invite and motivate us to follow Jesus, not out of religious obligation or fear of eternal damnation, but because we identify with his teaching and his vision, and we discover a sense of belonging in his cause and his kingdom. A slow and deliberate journey through Holy Week may re-energize your faith and inspire you to live and serve with passion.

The word “holy” means “belonging to a divine power” or “dedicated to God.” On second thought, maybe Holy Week is a week for us to “act” in a way that is holy.

(Barry Howard serves as senior pastor of the First Baptist Church in Pensacola, Florida.)

You can sustain a lot of losses in your lifetime, but when you lose hope, life can become depressing and your previously strong faith can become as weak as stump water.

During tough times, hope becomes the fuel that energizes your determination and perseverance. Emphasizing the necessity of hope in the human experience, Emil Brunner wrote, “What oxygen is to the lungs, such is hope to the meaning of life.”

Micah was called by God as a spokesperson during a very tough time in Israel’s history. While circumstances were extremely discouraging, Micah rose above the pessimism of his day and said, “But as for me, I watch in hope for the LORD, I wait for God my Savior; my God will hear me. (Micah 7:7)

Now, over 2500 years later, our hope in Christ reminds us that through the ever-changing circumstances and seemingly insurmountable challenges of life, “with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26).

As our national leaders wage a verbal warfare, rooted ideological differences and political partisanship, their rhetoric sounds more indicative of superficial posturing than substantive problem-solving. A current cultural malaise that is saturated with complaint and mostly devoid of optimism seems to be contagious, not just around our nation, but around the world.
And to make matters worse, that sense of hopeless discontent has infiltrated the church. If the church, which is the real bastion of hope, a people called to be the light of the world and the salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13), forfeits hope for hopelessness, we may find ourselves rushing toward an apocalyptic future.

Real hope, the kind of hope we see in Micah, is neither blind nor naïve. Real hope motivates us to rise above despair and deal with challenging circumstances proactively, constructively, and collaboratively.

A few years ago I read of a rather profound exchange between two clergy who were working together during a season filled with monumental changes. In 1960, John Claypool began his tenure as pastor at the Crescent Hill Baptist Church in Louisville. Shortly after his arrival, Claypool became friends with a Jewish rabbi who was forty years his senior. Their friendship grew deeper as they worked together in the civil rights movement. After a tense and unproductive meeting one day, Claypool looked at his Jewish friend and said, “I think it is hopeless. This problem is so deep, so many-faceted, there is simply no way out of it.”

The rabbi asked Claypool to stay a few minutes after the meeting and said, “Humanly speaking, despair is presumptuous. It is saying something about the future we have no right to say because we have not been there yet and do not know enough. Think of the times you have been surprised in the past as you looked at a certain situation and deemed it hopeless. Then, lo and behold, forces that you did not even realize existed broke in and changed everything. We do not know enough to embrace the absolutism of despair. If God can create the things that are from the things that are not and even make dead things come back to life, who are we to set limits on what that kind of potency may yet do?”

In the movie, “Hope Floats,” central character Birdee Pruitt describes the emergence of hope like this: That’s what momma always says. She says that beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it’s the middle that counts the most. Try to remember that when you find yourself at a new beginning. Just give hope a chance to float up.

Like the stoking of warm embers to re-awaken the flame, real hope can be rekindled by stoking the fire in our bones that propels us “to act justly and love mercy and walk humbly with our God” (Micah 6:8) in all of the seasons of life, even the season we find ourselves in.

(Barry Howard serves as the Senior Minister of the First Baptist Church in Pensacola, Florida.)