Wednesday, January 23, 2013

In pursuit of The Dream


     Seated in the second row of the beautiful, refurbished church, I listened and watched enthralled as the speakers compared the Children of Israel’s enslavement with that of the American Negro and their struggles for freedom from bondage.  The speakers and guests represented every religious denomination in the town: Baptist, Methodist, Catholic, Society of Friends (Quaker), Jewish Synagogue, Episcopalian, AME (African Methodist Episcopalian) and Lutheran. They presented a truly beautiful picture of people of varying backgrounds coming together with a common, unifying purpose. As each speech ended, an individual or group from that speaker’s congregation presented a musical number. It was Sunday evening. The occasion was in celebration of the life and work of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  
     From my vantage point I marveled at the warmth in the room and the sense of one-ness. There were no overt signs or perception of aloofness or division. No “us” and “them”. The music – from old hymns to newer praise songs - was familiar to most. The congregation sang along with the performers, standing, clapping, and celebrating. This is the way it should be, I thought. This is how we’ll worship in heaven.
     Later, I re-examined what I had witnessed...and realized that of all the choirs, worship teams, and musical groups present, only one group was truly integrated.  Only one group had singers of more than one race, leading me to conclude that only one church could claim to be ethnically diverse. America, it seems, is still segregated on Sunday mornings. I left with conflicting emotions.
    We've made progress. Our neighborhoods, schools and colleges boast equal opportunity for people of all ethnicities; there is more diversity at the corporate management level than at any other time in our history; and there seems to be acceptance – or at least tolerance - towards marriage between people of different races; but on Sunday mornings we still worship at white churches or black churches
 
     But there is hope. Just recently a woman shared with me that her daughter had left their home church to worship at a face of America church. It was a moment before I realized that face of America was not a new-age denomination, but a description of the racial makeup of that congregation. Face of America. I like the description. It speaks of the hope that Dr. King had for America, a nation living and worshiping together in peace. It speaks of a heavenly worship experience where we will sing and speak with one voice. We’re not there yet...but we’re close.
 
MaxineThomas

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Glancing backwards; Peering ahead


Happy
     New
        Year
 
   Does it serve any useful purpose to look backwards? And while looking backwards, does it serve any purpose to pray for or about incidents that have already passed?
   In his first newsletter for the New Year, our pastor shared a discussion he had with another pastor: “... [We] were talking about prayer and he told me that he prays for Civil War generals. ... He explained that God sits outside of time, meaning God is not bound by time, so He can be at work in all times simultaneously....Maybe the outcome we know [from  the Civil War] is because God has already considered these prayers I offer today.” Wow!

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Poor Old Michael Finnegan

     Throughout my childhood and into adulthood, songs, and music in general, have had an integral role in my life. Music has helped me block out peripheral noises when studying; I’ve put to music Scripture verses and long Shakespearean passages to help in memorization; and, in times of stress, music has been a healing balm to my tortured soul. And, of course, songs of praise gently usher me into the presence of God.  
 
      Yesterday a childhood song popped into my head and has been like an ear worm ever since: There was an old man named Michael Finnegan. I have not been able to get this song out of my head. Nor have I been able to ignore the message. Poor Michael Finnegan encountered many absurd challenges in his life, but he was always encouraged to start over... and the song would repeat with another absurd account of Michael Finnegan's life events.

   What does this have to do with my first post of January? It’s the encouragement in the last line of each verse: Poor old Michael Finnegan, begin again. The song came to mind at a time when I’ve been chastising myself for having started this blog and not kept to my commitment to post three times a week. I don’t like to set goals and miss them. I don’t like to fail. (No, I’m not a perfectionist, just a perfectionist wannabe). Granted I have spent many hours promoting my new novel, Very Truly Yours since its October 2012 release. Since October I’ve had three book signings and made trips to New York, Florida and to Virginia twice. Add to that my church commitments as worship team leader and commitments to home and family and I have had an extremely busy holiday season. I've decided to take heart from the Michael Finnegan song, forgive myself and and begin again. It’s the New Year. What better time to start over?
 
   So my blog goal for 2013 is to cut back blog posts to once a week. I hope you will continue to follow me.

 Season’s Greetings.
Max

Very Truly Yours
A story of enduring faith in the face of adversity.

Available from www.Amazon.com and www.BN.com