For the last few months I've been attending a weekly class unlike any other I've ever experienced. I've been going to theology school. Last Sunday I passed my final exam.
Tonight I face a second examination in church. I just hope to survive that test.
Someone at our church must have made a mistake when they nominated me for the office of deacon. That's the only explanation I can think of.
In our Presbyterian denomination, there are a number of steps to becoming an officer in the church. First of all, someone has to nominate you. Any member can nominate officers. Then the Board of Elders considers your nomination.
If you get the preliminary okay, in our church there's a three months long officer training class taught by the pastor and consisting mostly of a rigorous walkthrough of The Westminster Confession of Faith. After that, you appear before the Elders and answer questions about your life and your understanding of doctrine, and the Elders vote on whether they find you an acceptable candidate. If you're still standing at this point, you then must be elected to the office by the entire membership of the church.
The Westminster Confession of Faith was written in 1646 and guides the Presbyterian Church to this day. It must have been written by Scottish lawyers, because the language can be arcane and difficult to comprehend at times.
Here's a random sentence taken from Chapter 25: Unto this catholic visible church Christ hath given the ministry, oracles, and ordinances of God, for the gathering and perfecting of the saints, in this life, to the end of the world: and doth, by His own presence and Spirit, according to his promise, make them effectual thereunto.
And some of you complain that I write complicated sentences.
Our pastor has a doctorate in theology, and he's just plain smart, so when I thought I'd challenge a point in the Confession to show him how much I thought I knew, he smacked me down like a cat toying with a particularly slow mouse before getting my head right on the subject. How was I to know the point I picked to debate was the subject of his doctoral dissertation?
Three months and thirty-three chapters later, the class finished and it was time to face the Elders. The Elders are a group of church officers who govern the church. Individually they're all nice guys, but when I faced them together in a crowded room and looking stern, I could hardly breathe. It only got worse when they started throwing questions at me. I was ready, but my brain still froze a couple of times at a few of the tougher questions. I guess I did just well enough because the church has notified me that my candidacy has been accepted and I will stand for election next month. I'll let you know how that goes, when the time comes.
Then there's the other test. In a tremendous lapse of judgement, Connie, the music leader at our church has asked me to play my mountain dulcimer in part of a group at tonight's Christmas Eve service. The dulcimer is a lovely instrument, but I'm not an accomplished player of it--far from it. This is like asking Charlie Brown to play quarterback in the Super Bowl or an especially dimwitted four-year-old to appear on Jeopardy. I've been practicing hard and our rehearsal went well, but I have no expectation that this will end in anything other than disaster.
Why me? Why Christmas Eve? Why oh why didn't I just say no? Christmas Eve is the big time when it comes to church services, and the church will likely be full. Ugh. I've had butterflies over this for weeks. If you're going to be there, you'll notice me staring down at the instrument on my lap. It's not that I need to look at the frets to play, it's that I'll be trying not to look up at the congregation and faint.
Even if I do embarrass myself tonight, it will all be okay. I'll do my best to make a joyful noise unto the Lord and hope for the best.
At Christmas there are so many distractions. There are the presents to buy and wrap, food to cook, parties to endure, family obligations and all the rest. This year even church activities have conspired to distract me from the real point of Christmas--remembering the birth of Christ and the significance of that event to all Christians.
We Presbyterians also employ another document called The Shorter Catechism, which answers 107 basic questions about our beliefs. The very first question in The Shorter Catechism is "What is the chief end of man?" The answer may have been written by the same Scottish lawyers who wrote the Confession, but it's so simple that anyone can understand it: "Man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever." I hope your Christmas is like that--glorious, glorifying and filled with joy.
Discerning Reader, whatever your beliefs may be, I wish you a Merry Christmas!
Tonight I face a second examination in church. I just hope to survive that test.
Someone at our church must have made a mistake when they nominated me for the office of deacon. That's the only explanation I can think of.
In our Presbyterian denomination, there are a number of steps to becoming an officer in the church. First of all, someone has to nominate you. Any member can nominate officers. Then the Board of Elders considers your nomination.
If you get the preliminary okay, in our church there's a three months long officer training class taught by the pastor and consisting mostly of a rigorous walkthrough of The Westminster Confession of Faith. After that, you appear before the Elders and answer questions about your life and your understanding of doctrine, and the Elders vote on whether they find you an acceptable candidate. If you're still standing at this point, you then must be elected to the office by the entire membership of the church.
The Westminster Confession of Faith was written in 1646 and guides the Presbyterian Church to this day. It must have been written by Scottish lawyers, because the language can be arcane and difficult to comprehend at times.
Here's a random sentence taken from Chapter 25: Unto this catholic visible church Christ hath given the ministry, oracles, and ordinances of God, for the gathering and perfecting of the saints, in this life, to the end of the world: and doth, by His own presence and Spirit, according to his promise, make them effectual thereunto.
And some of you complain that I write complicated sentences.
Our pastor has a doctorate in theology, and he's just plain smart, so when I thought I'd challenge a point in the Confession to show him how much I thought I knew, he smacked me down like a cat toying with a particularly slow mouse before getting my head right on the subject. How was I to know the point I picked to debate was the subject of his doctoral dissertation?
Three months and thirty-three chapters later, the class finished and it was time to face the Elders. The Elders are a group of church officers who govern the church. Individually they're all nice guys, but when I faced them together in a crowded room and looking stern, I could hardly breathe. It only got worse when they started throwing questions at me. I was ready, but my brain still froze a couple of times at a few of the tougher questions. I guess I did just well enough because the church has notified me that my candidacy has been accepted and I will stand for election next month. I'll let you know how that goes, when the time comes.
Then there's the other test. In a tremendous lapse of judgement, Connie, the music leader at our church has asked me to play my mountain dulcimer in part of a group at tonight's Christmas Eve service. The dulcimer is a lovely instrument, but I'm not an accomplished player of it--far from it. This is like asking Charlie Brown to play quarterback in the Super Bowl or an especially dimwitted four-year-old to appear on Jeopardy. I've been practicing hard and our rehearsal went well, but I have no expectation that this will end in anything other than disaster.
Why me? Why Christmas Eve? Why oh why didn't I just say no? Christmas Eve is the big time when it comes to church services, and the church will likely be full. Ugh. I've had butterflies over this for weeks. If you're going to be there, you'll notice me staring down at the instrument on my lap. It's not that I need to look at the frets to play, it's that I'll be trying not to look up at the congregation and faint.
Even if I do embarrass myself tonight, it will all be okay. I'll do my best to make a joyful noise unto the Lord and hope for the best.
At Christmas there are so many distractions. There are the presents to buy and wrap, food to cook, parties to endure, family obligations and all the rest. This year even church activities have conspired to distract me from the real point of Christmas--remembering the birth of Christ and the significance of that event to all Christians.
We Presbyterians also employ another document called The Shorter Catechism, which answers 107 basic questions about our beliefs. The very first question in The Shorter Catechism is "What is the chief end of man?" The answer may have been written by the same Scottish lawyers who wrote the Confession, but it's so simple that anyone can understand it: "Man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever." I hope your Christmas is like that--glorious, glorifying and filled with joy.
Discerning Reader, whatever your beliefs may be, I wish you a Merry Christmas!
Thanks for another night with all the blessings of the Christmas season. Good luck on the election, I'm sure the dulcimer accompaniment was dazzling.
ReplyDeleteWhat do Presbyterians believe the last words of the Christ to have been?
Did your dulcimer performance positively or negatively impact your run for office? :)
ReplyDeleteVon: We didn't cover that in the class, and I know better than to get in a theological debate with you anywhere other than on your back porch.
ReplyDeleteAnon: I don't know if the dulcimer playing helped or hindered my image, but it went way better than expected.