Union University

It’s Friday But Sunday’s Comin’!

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I can’t remember a lot of what I’ve done in the last week or so, but I can still remember a sermon from Tony Campolo that I heard when I was a student at Union University way back in the early 90s. It was close to Easter that year, and I seem to remember we were getting ready to go on our spring break.

I remember the sermon was based on the text by an old black preacher named S. M. Lockridge with the refrain of “It’s Friday . . . but Sunday’s comin’!”

The gist is that Friday was when everything looked hopeless. Jesus was dead and buried. The Pharisees and other religious leaders were celebrating. The disciples were crushed and defeated. But Sunday and the empty tomb were just ahead, unbeknownst to those who were witnesses to the events on Friday.

Here’s the text from the original sermon that set my world on fire:

“It’s Friday. Jesus is arrested in the garden where He was praying. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. The disciples are hiding and Peter’s denying that he knows the Lord. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is standing before the high priest of Israel, silent as a lamb before the slaughter. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is beaten, mocked, and spit upon. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Those Roman soldiers are flogging our Lord with a leather scourge that has bits of bones and glass and metal, tearing at his flesh. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. The Son of man stands firm as they press the crown of thorns down into his brow. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. See Him walking to Calvary, the blood dripping from His body. See the cross crashing down on His back as He stumbles beneath the load. It’s Friday; but Sunday’s a coming.

It’s Friday. See those Roman soldiers driving the nails into the feet and hands of my Lord. Hear my Jesus cry, “Father, forgive them.” It’s Friday; but Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is hanging on the cross, bloody and dying. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. The sky grows dark, the earth begins to tremble, and He who knew no sin became sin for us. Holy God, who will not abide with sin, pours out His wrath on that perfect sacrificial lamb who cries out, “My God, My God. Why hast thou forsaken me?” What a horrible cry. But Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. And at the moment of Jesus’ death, the veil of the Temple that separates sinful man from Holy God was torn from the top to the bottom because Sunday’s coming.

It’s Friday. Jesus is hanging on the cross, heaven is weeping and hell is partying. But that’s because it’s Friday, and they don’t know it, but Sunday’s a coming.

And on that horrible day 2,000 years ago, Jesus the Christ, the Lord of glory, the only begotten Son of God, the only perfect man, died on the cross of Calvary. Satan thought that he had won the victory. Surely he had destroyed the Son of God. Finally he had disproved the prophecy God had uttered in the Garden and the one who was to crush his head had been destroyed. But that was Friday.

Now it’s Sunday. And just about dawn on that first day of the week, there was a great earthquake. But that wasn’t the only thing that was shaking, because now it’s Sunday.

And the angel of the Lord is coming down out of heaven and rolling the stone away from the door of the tomb.

Yes, it’s Sunday, and the angel of the Lord is sitting on that stone. And the guards posted at the tomb to keep the body from disappearing were shaking in their boots, because it’s Sunday. And the lamb that was silent before the slaughter is now the resurrected lion from the tribe of Judah, for He is not here, the angel says. He is risen indeed.

It’s Sunday, and the crucified and resurrected Christ has defeated death, hell, sin, and the grave. It’s Sunday. And now everything has changed. It’s the age of grace, God’s grace poured out on all who would look to that crucified lamb of Calvary. Grace freely given to all who would believe that Jesus Christ died on the cross of Calvary was buried and rose again. All because it’s Sunday.

It’s Friiidaaaay!

But Sunday’s coming!” (S. M. Lockridge, With Thanks to Dr. Michael G. Davis for the text version).

Some Sorta Kinda Bucket List Items

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I don’t know if these qualify for actual bucket list activities, but I’ve thought of a few things I’d like to accomplish during my lifetime:

  1. I’d like to ride in a train with an actual sleeping compartment where I’d spend at least one night.
  2. I want to make a pilgrimage to the New England area during the fall to see the changing leaves, with a stopover in Mystic, Connecticut for some of their pizza.
  3. I still want to see U2 in concert while they’re still around.
  4. I think it’s be a grand adventure to go back to Memphis over a weekend and see all those places I missed while I was living there — Graceland, the MLK museum, etc.
  5. I’m hoping to go on at least one overseas mission trip for at least a week.
  6. I want to lose weight and get back down to 150-155 pounds again.
  7. I’d love to get together for an evening with some of my old Union University friends and reminisce about back in the day.
  8. There are a lot more dreams and goals and aspirations that I’ll probably add in the coming days as I think of them. Stay tuned.

The Space Between the Words

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“The spirit lives in the space between the words. The danger in becoming too wordy is that we miss the space between the words” (Macrina Wiederkehr, Seven Sacred Pauses: Living Mindfully Through the Hours of the Day).

I often think about something I learned in one of my advertising classes at Union University. The key when you’re creating an ad is not to cram in as many words and images as possible onto a flyer or a brochure. People would be overwhelmed by all the information hitting them all at once, and thus be highly unlikely to actually read the ad.

White space in an ad is extremely important in allowing the eye to rest and emphasizing the words and images.

Most of us live our lives at such a frenetic pace, trying to fill every possible space with words and activity and doing. No wonder so many of us feel like we’re running in place, exerting a great deal of energy but not really moving any place.

It’s vitally important to create margins in our lives. Those are the white spaces where we find rest. It’s also crucial to embrace silence and stillness not as enemies of our productivity but as allies in our quest to work and play smarter and not just harder.

How can any of us hear God speak if we leave no space between our words and our deeds? How can any of us grow into the grace of God apart from margins and boundaries?

No one naturally gravitates toward silence and stillness. Most of us will, left to our own devices, trend toward the tyranny of the urgent instead of nurturing and caring for what is most important– our communion with our Maker.

“When all the sheep have been gathered, [The Good Shepherd] walks on ahead of them; and they follow him because they know his voice” (John 10:4, The Voice).

FOMO?

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“And don’t be wishing you were someplace else or with someone else. Where you are right now is God’s place for you. Live and obey and love and believe right there” (1 Corinthians 7:17, The Message).

I was the walking definition of FOMO long before such a term ever existed. Back in my college days, I went through a period where I would wander the Union campus in search of the exciting event I feared I was missing out on. There had to be something great with lots of people involved– almost everyone except me– that if I found it and participated would drastically alter my life for the better.

I probably wasted more than a few nights chasing after these mystical and mythical moments that never materialized.

Now, FOMO (or Fear Of Missing Out) is the prevalent excuse for a lack of commitment by so many– why tie yourself down to someone or something when the possibility of something better still remains?

It seems to me that with FOMO, you do miss out. You miss out on the beautiful ordinary moment you’re in while you’re searching out the elusive and illusory moment. Wherever you are, the grass will always appear greener somewhere else.

It’s like in The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe where Eustace spurns good ordinary food in hopes of getting more of that magical Turkish delight from the White Witch. He ends up with neither and with nothing but regrets.

The opposite of FOMO is celebrating the moment God gives you and finding the gifts in it. FOMO says that God is holding out on you but faith says that God is true and trustworthy in all circumstances.

The antidote to FOMO is giving thanks for what you have over fretting over what you don’t have or working about missing out on what might have been. The cure is to see every moment as part of God’s plan to work all things together for your good. Even those ordinary moments.

 

Takeaways From Another Immersion Conference

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I attended an Immersion: Going Deeper conference at Brentwood Baptist Church over the last two days, featuring Union University professor Dr. George Guthrie.

It was as good as billed and more.

God’s Unfolding Story was the theme and Dr. Guthrie spoke about how grace always has a face and a space in which to work. To me, that says that grace works best not as a theoretical proposition, but as a concrete reality lived out in the midst of where we live, work, and play.

Grace says that I have a standing invitation into the throneroom of the God of the Universe that never expires and never gets rescinded. As a student at Union University back in the day, I’d never have dreamed of barging into University President Dr. Hyram Barefoot’s office and telling him fears and dreams.

But God invites me to do just that. It is His desire that I come to Him at any moment with whatever’s on my mind. He is a good, good, Father, as the current worship song says.

Sometimes, it’s good to simply sit in God’s lap and bask in His presence. Other times, only two words will do for my prayer: thank you.

There have been times when the hurt and pain go too deep for words, yet God hears the sighs and groans that go deeper than any words can ever express.

It was great seeing Dr. Guthrie again, as well as Chuck Maxwell. It was also fantastic getting to hear Michael Card perform a couple of songs on Friday night. That alone was worth the price of admission.

Sometimes, it’s good to go deeper into God and to find out that He’s way more amazing than you had ever imagined in your wildest dreams. He never disappoints those who seek Him with pure and willing hearts.

That’s a fact.

The end.

 

More Music & Nostalgia

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Today, I got a CD in the mail. Not a big deal. I’ve gotten a few of those over the years (understatement of the century to say the least).

This one was a bit different. This was an album by a band called Johnny Clegg & Savuka that my uncle introduced me to almost 20 years ago. I wish I could thank him again, but he’s no longer living. All I have left are the music and the memories. I can see his face every time I listen to a Grateful Dead song.

In fact, both my uncles on my dad’s side helped to instill in me a great love for music as well as inspiring me to broaden my musical horizons, a move that I have never once regretted.

For me, music is better than just about anything else at conjuring up old memories.

Whenever I hear a Julie Miller song, I’m immediately transported back to Union University circa 1993 and some great friends who really modeled what real Christian faith lived out could be. Not stuffy, pew-sitting faith, but vibrant every-day kind of faith that was honest and transparent.

I can hear any Phil Collins song and immediately feel the same way that I did as an 8th grader way back in 1986.  Heck, just about any 80’s song will transport me back to junior high/high school.

That’s what makes the musical aspect of worship so great. Music is the best way to trigger memories of God’s faithfulness in the past to remind you that He’s still faithful now.

I can still remember how my grandmother, long after she’d forgotten her address and the names of most of the people she loved, still able to sing the old hymns that were embedded deep in a part of her brain that Alzheimer’s couldn’t touch.

After all, music is the only expression that activates and utilizes every part of the brain. But that’s another topic for another day.

 

Learning the Facts of Life

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I had a random Union University memory today. A friend of mine mentioned that he had a jamocha shake from Arby’s when it was cold outside, which got me thinking about my own jamocha shake experience. Specifically one.

My dorm room was at the back of the campus. Across the street lived the place that made my drug of choice, the jamocha shake. Plus, the fact that I could literally walk half a block to get one made it all the better.

So I decided one night to get one. Apparently, I didn’t get the memo that they closed. I arrived just in time to be told, “Sorry, we’ve closed for the night. No jamocha shake for you.” Not in those words, but something close to that.

I did get my shake eventually, but I also learned to pay attention to the time more closely.

Today, I had a salted caramel mocha, one of the harbingers of the arrival of Autumn. It’s also one of my favorites. That, the pumpkin spice latte, and the caramel apple cider are the three best reasons to frequent Starbucks in the fall.

For me, fall is a reminder that sometimes it’s good to slow down and savor life. That to-do list never goes away and never gets smaller, but sometimes you find when you leave a few items unchecked, the world actually doesn’t come to a crashing halt. Somehow, life goes on.

It’s better when your life has margins, when you aren’t so jam-packed with busyness that you have no down time. There’s a reason why God made the Sabbath. No one can go all-out for 7 days in a row, week after week, and not burn out and break down.

I personally have never had a problem with going full speed for too long. I like my naps. I like my quality therapy time with my cat Lucy in my lap and some quality TCM programming in front of me.

If all you have time for is one deep breath, take it. Breathe in and breathe out and remember that ultimately it’s not up to you. God’s got this.

 

 

Motownphilly Back Again

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I don’t know about you, but there are certain songs and albums that take me back to a specific time and place.

For me, one example is Boyz II Men’s Motownphilly, which takes me back to my freshman year at the Deusner 7 (or maybe it was 5) dorm room at Union University in the fine city of Jackson, Tennessee, where (I might add) you can’t go 50 feet without running into either a college or a church.

I’m not the world’s biggest hip-hop fan as a general rule. Not that I have anything against that genre. I just never really have gotten into it.

But there’s something about hearing songs like “End of the Road” and “It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday” that make me nostalgic.

Sadly, that dorm building is no longer there. It got taken out by the tornadoes that swept through the campus back in 2008. In fact, the last time I was there, I didn’t recognize most of the campus (or the people).

I do remember the first time I set foot on the campus of Union, it was like God was telling me, “This is where I want you. This is your place for the next four years.” It felt like home and the peace I felt was undeniable.

There were some scary and stressful moments when I thought I wouldn’t be able to stay due to finances, but thanks to Stafford loans I managed to graduate four years later.

I made some great friends and great memories that I wouldn’t trade for anything. Sometimes, I think I’d like to get together with some fellow Unionites and reminisce about those days and catch up with what everybody’s doing these days.

I think that should happen soon, preferably in the Nashville area. I might even bring my Boyz II Men CD with me.

 

 

More Snow, Snow, Snow

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“‘Come. Sit down. Let’s argue this out.’
    This is God’s Message:
‘If your sins are blood-red,
    they’ll be snow-white.
If they’re red like crimson,
    they’ll be like wool.'” (Isaiah 1:18-19)

Well, apparently Middle Tennessee is catching up on all that snow we were supposed to get this year (according to the famed Farmer’s Almanac). Ok, it’s still not that much by New York or Boston standards, but snow is snow. And Nashvillians still can’t drive in it. Not that they can drive in any other kind of weather.

At the risk of sounding like an old fart, I can remember back when it used to REALLY snow. There was that one time when I was a freshman at Briarcrest High School when Memphis got 13 inches of snow. 13 inches! Again, that’s a light dusting for places like Minneapolis, but for us folks down South, that’s a big deal.

I also remember the Great Ice Storm of ’94 when I was a student at Union University and people lost power for a couple of weeks. Thankfully, the campus shared the same power grid as the nearby hospital, so we only went without power for a few hours.

This time, it’s nowhere near as dramatic as that. Still, even with only an inch or two on the ground, it is rather pretty. Even at night, there’s still enough light reflecting off the snow for me to be able to see out the front door when ordinarily I wouldn’t be able to see much beyond the glow of the streetlights.

I’m thinking how snow covers up so much ugliness and makes everything beautiful again. I wonder if that was what Isaiah was thinking when he penned the words about how “though your sins are as scarlet, they shall be white as snow.”

I’m hoping with all this Arctic (for Middle Tennessee) weather we’ve been having that there will be less bugs next summer. I wonder what the Farmer’s Almanac has to say about that?

 

Three Reminders for Those of Us Who Need it Tonight

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When I was a senior at Union University, my roommates and I used to go dumpster diving. At least I remember the one time. I came away with a worn out baseball glove and a television. I kid you not. I got a television from the dumpster.

When I ceremoniously placed it in my dorm room and plugged it in, lo and behold it worked. It even had a button on it that would turn the images on the screen green. I still don’t know what the purpose of that was.

That rescued television served me well all the rest of my senior year of college. In fact, it worked all the way up until the day I brought it home. Then it became a very heavy and super bulky paper weight.

I sometimes wonder how God puts people and places and things into our lives for a season. Sure, some friends are for life, but those are rare and precious. Most of the people in my life have come for a week, a month, maybe a year or two. I’ve learned not so much to be sorrowful when they’re gone but to celebrate the lessons they taught me.

I was reminded of three things tonight. 1) Jesus is for me, 2) Jesus is with me, and 3) Jesus is in me.

My pastor tonight said that Jesus was the best evidence that God isn’t pursuing you and me because he’s angry, but because He’s desperate for us to save us from our sins and ourselves. I agree with that. Jesus Himself said He came not to condemn the world, but that it might be saved through Him.

I know Jesus is with me. He promised He’d never leave me, abandon me, or forsake me. That’s a promise I’ve found to be true, whether I could feel it or not.

I know Jesus is in me. Sometimes, I find myself saying and doing things that I know could never come from me. At least based on what I’ve said and done the other 98% of the time. I know that’s not me speaking and acting, but Jesus in me.

So remember tonight that Jesus is for you, with you, and in you.

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