For four years I was an Assemblies of God minister and a monk with the Brothers and Sisters of Charity at the Little Portion Hermitage. This is an excerpt from an unpublished book I’ve written called Taking Off My Comfortable Clothes.
Perhaps it is just me, but I don’t think the believers in Acts 2 were very surprised when the wind blew and shook the upper room when the disciples gathered for prayer and worship. Jesus said, “For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them” (Matt. 18:20). Would you really expect God to enter a room and not make just a little bit of noise? When God arrives, change is in the air.
When I was a monk, we gathered in the chapel at the Little Portion with an expectancy that we would meet with God. The physical acts of worship — kneeling, standing, raising our hands, making the sign of the cross — are designed to involve the whole person in a spiritual act of worship. We cannot separate the spiritual from the physical. Any truly spiritual act will find an expression through our bodies, whether that be in raising our hands as we sing of God’s glory, or stretching out our hands to serve those less fortunate.
You may think it very spiritual to be a monk or a nun who spends most of their days in prayer and contemplation of God. But I know of no monastic tradition, even those who spend up to 19 hours a day alone with God, where no work is done. Please do not get the impression that you’d be more spiritual if you didn’t have a job to go to and all that was required of you was to sit in a comfortable chair and worship God while heavenly music played in the background. Continue Reading
Look at that picture. Yep, that’s me. “Pastor” Jim Thornber. Even though I see the title, I truly do not comprehend the immensity of it all.
Blaise Pascal said, “We must learn our limits. We are all something, but none of us are everything.” Or, as that wise 20th century philosopher Harry Callahan (Clint Eastwood) said in the movie Magnum Force, “A man’s got to know his limitations.”
I had an interesting conversation this summer with a man at a church picnic. Because I had never met him, at first glance I thought he was going through chemotherapy. He wore a knit cap in ninety-degree weather, had no hair on his arms, legs or face, and had penciled in his eyebrows. Only after I sat across from him at lunch did I understand the situation.
For many people, the Christmas (or Chanukah) season is their favorite time of year. The time spent with family, the abundance of favorite foods, and of course the opening of gifts all make this holiday special.
I did not get up this morning intending to write. All I really wanted to do was check my e-mail and a few sports scores, and then settle down and read some nice, comfortable, soothing, spiritually uplifting and self-esteeming Scripture. Why I chose Isaiah is beyond my understanding.
You know the Holy Spirit is on your case when you’re zipping along, joyfully reading Scriptures, feeling good about yourself and your relationship with God, when suddenly you come across a verse that smacks you in the head so hard your feet ache. This verse did that to me about two minutes ago.
