Tag: grace

Posted in Grace

Seeing grace in new ways

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko at pexels.com

My friend J was sitting on a bench outside of church this morning. I had a few minutes between the middle school Sunday School class I taught and the worship service. I sat next to him and said, “Hey, J, it’s Bill. How are you doing?”

J is blind. He replied, “Well, to be honest, I’ve had better weeks. I’ve been struggling with anger issues again.”

“It’s not easy dealing with anger.”

He went on, ” I’m mostly angry about things that have been taken from me.”

“What do you mean?”

“For example, at the complex where I live. They’ve changed the way you get into the laundry area. They installed an electronic touch pad. I can’t operate that.”

I said, “They must have had the push buttons with raised bumps on them before.”

“Yeah. And they changed how you use the machines. You can’t put quarters in anymore. You have to swipe a credit card. And then there’s another touch pad to tell it what to do. I can’t use that.”

I don’t blame him for being angry. I think J is in his forties, and he has never been able to see. He lives on his own and church members pick him up every week so he can attend worship and an evening bible class. He supports himself working at a pizza place across from the beach. About a year ago J shared how his apartment complex moved the trash dumpsters without letting him know. That was frustrating, too.

I rarely think about the obstacles a blind person deals with every day. Eyes are critical in a world filled with smart phones, laptops, cars, and video games. I should be grateful for all my senses.

J is one of several blind people who come to worship each week. He has been a part of the church’s outreach to a nearby training institute for the blind. I don’t think the church ever pursued that ministry, but we know God opened up that door anyway.

I’m thankful for J and how he helps me see God’s grace in new ways.

Posted in Life, sermon

A little sermon on grace

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I heard a great sermon on grace this morning, preached as I walked my daughter’s golden retriever, Rex.

First, there was the sunrise as the night sky gave way to the day. I remembered something Jesus said about the sun rising on both the evil and the good (Matthew 5:45). Experiencing a new day was a gift from God, completely independent of how good or bad (most likely bad) I was yesterday. That’s grace.

All kinds of birds were singing as we walked past the neighbor’s flower gardens, a reminder of God’s provision. Jesus also said that if God feeds the birds and adorns the flowers, then we don’t have to worry about what we’ll eat or drink or wear. An anxiety-free day? That’s a gift from God. That’s grace.

Warmed up, we walk faster and my breathing gets a little heavier, a reminder that I am alive. Jesus, too, was a living, breathing person, walking just like me. He walked and taught, walked and healed, and walked to the place where he was crucified, the ultimate expression of love and grace.

It’s cool the way God can sneak a little sermon into a walk around the block!

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

I do

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” Lent devotion for March 11, 2022. Photo by Marco Chilese on Unsplash

 Peter said to him, “Lord, I am ready to go with you both to prison and to death.” (Luke 22:33)

Pretty bold, huh?

At our church, when young people are confirmed or we receive new members, I ask, “Do you intend to continue steadfast in this confession and Church and to suffer all, even death, rather than fall away from it?”

And you know what? Everyone responds, “I do, by the grace of God.”

Just like Peter, I doubt that we understand what we are promising. Kind of like looking in the eyes of our spouse at the altar and repeating the vow, “Til death parts us.” I believe we are sincere. I believe we believe we can do this. I also believe we have no idea what’s coming.

Peter might have been ready for prison and death. But he wasn’t  ready for a servant girl’s simple statement, “This man was with Jesus” (Luke 22:56-57). He had no clue how hard it would be to remain faithful.

I confess, I’ve become cynical. Too many people have said, “I do,” and never come to worship with us (or anyone else) again. Too many have come back and asked me to perform their second or third marriage. Many, dissatisfied with their church, went to another. Were they threatened with prison or death? No. They simply ran up against the challenge of being faithful.

Rarely do we understand the commitments we make. “I’m going to get up and exercise every day.” But then on day two you are too sore to move and you’re done. “I’m going to learn how to play the guitar.” But you had to work overtime and the dog got sick and there was no time to practice. “If we get a dog, I promise I’ll feed and walk him every day.” But it’s raining. And there was a meeting after school. And I forgot. Thirty-six payments in and you’re wondering, “Isn’t this car paid off yet?”

Peter, you’re not ready. Neither are we, really. And so we fail, and we fall hard on the grace of God. Those who haven’t missed a Sunday in years confess that we have failed to love God and love our neighbor. Those who have been married for fifty years or more confess that they have sinned and need God’s forgiveness. Those who preach and teach stand at a distance and say, “Lord, have mercy on me a sinner.”

The foundation of our faith is never our intention or our strength. It’s him. He’s our rock, our refuge, and our fortress.

There is no other.

I do – by your grace alone, Lord. Amen.

Posted in 2022 Lent Devotions

For you

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Mirror of the Passion” for March 7, 2022. Photo by Kostiantyn Li on Unsplash

“[Jesus] took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.” (Luke 22:19-20)

Someone returns from shopping, hands you a bag and says, “I got something for you.” Or they look at the name on the gift under the Christmas tree and say, “This one’s for you.” After paying for a meal, you hand a little extra cash to the server and say, “This is for you.”

There is something about the words “for you” that gets me every time. My heart skips a beat. I blush, just a little. “For me? What is it? Oh, wow, thank you. Hey, look what I got!” Other times I feel guilty. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I didn’t get anything for you.”

We look into this mirror a lot. We hear these words every time we kneel for holy communion.

This is for you – even if you’re a traitor, a coward, a thief, doubtful, or a deserter. (Like the disciples)

This is for you – when you worked hard, did a great job, and feel really good about yourself. (We all have good days.)

This is for you – even if you broke your promise, were caught red-handed, and then lied about it. Again. (We all have days like that, too.)

This is for you – even if you don’t know who you’ve disappointed, ignored, or hurt. (We can be oblivious.)

This is for you – even if you’re feeling disappointed, ignored, and hurt. (We know how it feels.)

This is for you – even though it didn’t make a bit of difference last time.

This is for you – even if it changed everything last time.

The words “for you” bring God’s amazing grace home to us. Grace means no conditions. No strings attached. Expecting nothing in return. Jesus’ body was broken for us. His blood was poured out for us. While we were sinners.

Listen for those words. Let the “for you” of the sacrament shock, surprise, and reassure you each and every time.

Lord, you shouldn’t have. But I am so glad you did it all for me. Amen.

Posted in Grace

“You’re mic is on!”

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Lee Soo hyun on Unsplash

It’s four minutes before I walk towards the altar, the prelude comes to a close and worship begins. More than a few times, someone has come up to me and said, “Your mic’s on!”

Well, of course it is. I fully trust the person at the sound board to pot me up at the appropriate times in the service. If the whole congregation can hear my small talk with those arriving for worship, those I’ve spotted who are with us for the first time, and those who have last minute questions for me, it’s not my fault!

I usually think, “I hope it wasn’t on when I was just in the bathroom.” Or expressing frustration under my breath about someone or something. Or speaking having a confidential conversation.

Actually, most of the time, it’s not true. My voice tends to carry. That’s a polite way of saying I’m just plain loud. I’ve heard it many times from my wife when guests are sleeping on the other side of the house or my comments are of a personal nature. I don’t even realize how much volume I can generate. It must come from all those years of playing the trumpet and sending air through the horn.

Can you imagine what it would be like if people could hear what you were thinking? So many thoughts resonate in my head that fortunately never make it to my vocal chords. About someone’s appearance, behavior, language, priorities, commitment, faith, choices or lifestyle. If that mic were ever left on I would be in a lot of trouble!

It’s troubling to sit here and write about thoughts I am glad no one knows I have. Obviously I am not proud of them, nor do I share them very often. Such thoughts reveal a level of sinfulness I shudder to admit. My thoughts aren’t always nice, constructive, merciful, forgiving and gracious. They are too often judgmental, condescending, cruel, hateful and evil.

No one knows. Except for God. And when I stop to ponder that, I am ashamed and humbled. But he still sent Jesus to atone for those thoughts. Amazing.

Posted in retirement

I am prepared to be humbled.

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

Since I am retiring from full-time pastoral ministry at the end of this coming July, a call committee at our church has begun the process of preparing to call the next pastor for our congregation. That process includes asking each member of the congregation what abilities, skills, strengths, experience and priorities they would like to see in their next pastor.

I am prepared to be humbled.

Why? First of all, because I’m human, a sinner, and nowhere close to being perfect. I know that either blatantly or subtly, my weaknesses will be highlighted in the responses to this survey. The members of the congregation will frankly tell the call committee what they would never say to my face. Their wishes for the next pastor will expose my weaknesses, failures and negligence.

I’m ready for that.

Trust me, I know my weaknesses. I am very aware of all the things I should have done over the past twenty-four years at this church. My insufficiencies haunt me daily. I did not study, pray, visit, administrate, evangelize, discipline, preach, teach, counsel, participate and celebrate like I should have or could have. I angered, frustrated, annoyed, irritated, insulted, ignored, and drove away many. I did it for the money, the notoriety and my ego.

I do not deny any of that.

When this church called me to be their pastor, they called a sinner. A sinner that deserves temporal and eternal punishment, a sinner redeemed by Christ, a sinner who squeaks into heaven by the grace of God. What did you expect? A saint? A super-hero? Someone you could look up to?

I never wanted you to look up to me. I wanted you to look to Christ. He’s the one who was obedient, he’s the one who was crucified and he’s the one who rose. He’s the one who will meet your hopes, expectations and dreams.

Me? I’m just me. And I am grateful I got to be your pastor for these last twenty-three or four years. What a gift.

Posted in Grace

Just take a walk

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I don’t get to see many fall colors on trees in Florida, so this one just kind of jumped out at me when I was walking Sam. The palm trees and the pine trees keep their green year round. But this tree’s a trifecta. I’ve never seen a tree like this one with three vivid colors simultaneously on display. I wish I knew what this was. I’d get one for my yard!

It is so easy to miss the creative work of God that frames my walks around the neighborhood. I stroll through a museum of his handiwork many times each week. Green lawns, flowering shrubs, towering trees, familiar neighbors walking their dogs, storm clouds off in the distance, the vivid clouds of the sunset, the first few stars in the evening sky – all testimonies of the God who created heaven and earth – and me.

So grace can look like a tree covered in color, making me stop and look and take a picture. You want to catch a glimpse of grace? Just go for a walk.

Posted in Grace

“What is grace?”

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Busted. A student in my confirmation gently raised her hand and asked, “What’s grace?”

I toss that word around like it were obvious to everyone. Guess what? It’s not.

  • “Grace and truth came through Jesus Christ” (John 1:17).
  • “Stephen, full of grace and power” (Acts 6:8).
  • “We are justified by his grace as a gift” (Romans 3:24).
  • “Grace abounded all the more” (Romans 5:20).
  • “You are not under law but under grace” (Romans 6:14).
  • “The grace of the Lord Jesus be with you” (1 Cor. 16:23).
  • “My grace is sufficient for you” (2 Cor., 12:9).
  • “By grace you have been saved” (Eph. 2:5).

I could go on and on and on. All those verses roll off my tongue like lyrics for a top forty song. My point is, if you’re a Christian and you like to toss around the word “grace,” you better have your elevator definition ready for anyone who asks you, “What is grace?”

My simple answer: when you get what you don’t deserve. A good grade when you really didn’t study all that hard. A close parking spot on a busy shopping day. Another chance to get it right. Forgiveness. Oh, yes, especially forgiveness. No one deserves that. But someone paid dearly so you could have it.

Posted in Grace, pastor

How about some grace?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

So, if I weren’t a pastor and I went to a church somewhere, what would I expect of the pastor?

I think that’s a heck of a question, one worth asking from time to time when I wonder where my time went. Am I doing more than I need to do? If so, then why? How much time am I spending on unimportant tasks? Why am I doing that?

OK, here is my list. Yours may be different, but that’s OK.

I would expect the pastor to proclaim God’s Word to me. Preach the word. What is God saying to us through his word right now? I expect that the pastor has studied and prepared some good news for the congregation from scripture.

I would want the pastor to be a regular person. Wife, kids, hobbies, joys and frustrations. If I stop by his house, it’s not perfectly kept. If he comes to my house, he’s right at home.

I would want the pastor to baptize, marry, and bury those whom I love. In those very special, emotional moments, please remind me that God is a part of those moments, too.

I would want the pastor to project grace. I don’t need someone to tell me what to do or how to do it. I already have plenty of people in my life who do that. But grace is hard to find. Maybe the pastor can bring it.

That doesn’t sound too tough, does it? Yet, when you are the pastor, you feel like everyone expects a whole lot more from you. You feel like everyone is expecting you to

  • make the church grow
  • keep the kids engaged
  • attend any and every meeting
  • bless things (crocheted prayer shawls, bibles, necklaces, urns, bricks, cross necklaces…whatever)
  • keep the church sanctuary at a comfortable temperature
  • go after those people who don’t even want to be a part of the church
  • make people behave better
  • tell people how they ought to vote at election time
  • visit people in the hospital who didn’t tell you they were in the hospital because they thought somehow you knew
  • perform a funeral for someone who never came to church but was a pretty good person most of the time
  • conduct a wedding for a couple from out of town who wanted to be married on the beach because you live at the beach
  • remember who can’t drink wine, eat gluten, or likes to drink from the common cup

I don’t know if everyone really expects those things. It’s just that I think people expect those things. We should be able to reach a compromise here. If you expect grace and I expect grace then I can let go of many expectations and simply give you the best gift of all. Grace!