The fall of 1980, I was newly married, fresh off a summer with my parents and new bride (which is a story for another time), and was newly enrolled in Perkins School of Theology for my Masters in Theology that would prepare me to launch into the ordained ministry of the United Methodist Church. It seems like forever ago, another world, another me. And yet there are some things That are as though they happened yesterday. One of those was my first Ministers Week at Perkins, which might have been second semester now that I think about it. It was an impressive time with big names in theology and church history coming to shore up clergy from all over and to set seminary students heads spinning in amazement. I don’t remember the big names who came, to be honest. But there was one man who made a powerful impact who it seems I shall never forget.
He was not an impressive looking specimen, quite short, balding, glasses and spoke with an east Tennessee mountain twang. His subject was preaching, and the subject was “How Loud Should the Sermon be?” I was not sure what to expect, frankly. But what happened was that I was held spellbound for three hour plus lectures over the course of two days. What happened was I was caught up in the power of words and preaching as the hope of the church and the empowerment of the people of God. What happened was that I found myself in those lectures, I finally understood this sense of call that I had and this deep love for the church and for worship that had been implanted in my very soul.
The little man from the hills of east Tennessee what the Rev. Dr. Fred B. Craddock, the Bandy Professor of Preaching at Candler School of Theology at Emory University in Atlanta. And he turned my life around. Inside out and upside down. And I was forever grateful. I wanted more and read everything he wrote. I even drove to Princeton University later in my ministry to attend a workshop he was leading there and foolishly raised my hand to be one who would preach during the workshop so that he and the rest of the group could dissect my preaching like it was a dead frog in formaldehyde. I took that risk so that I could receive his blessing on my preaching ministry. Like Jacob disguised to fool his father into giving the blessing, I dressed up like a preacher who had a clue what he was doing hoping I could fool Dr. Craddock into blessing me. Whether I fooled him or not, I don’t know, but he did bless me, and sent me off on my path that took me to Edinburgh for a PhD in preaching, and to Geneva to lecture, and Malaysia and Kenya and Ethiopia and then back home to Indiana, to teach and to preach and to attempt to capture a tiny fraction of the passion and power that Fred Craddock poured out like honey from that pulpit on the campus of Southern Methodist University thirty-five years ago.
One of the secrets Craddock shared was that if you weren’t connected to the vine, then the fruit wouldn’t grow. OK, he didn’t come up with that on his own. He read it someplace. Dr. Craddock was a New Testament scholar so he must have been aware of our text for this week about abiding.
John 15:8-14 My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples. 9 As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. 10 If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love. 11 I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. 12 "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. 13 No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends. 14 You are my friends if you do what I command you.
This is, of course, part of the larger piece called the “farewell discourse.” This is Jesus trying to give them everything they would need to go on without him as he had been with them. These verse follow the description of the vine. Jesus says “I am the vine and you are branches, abide in me” That’s they only way to bear fruit. And if we really want to glorify God, which is what we say when we worship, then we do it by bearing fruit. But doing something. By branching out. Sorry, couldn’t resist.
But Jesus tells us to stay connected. To abide in him, abide in his love. That makes a wonderful picture. Just hanging out with Jesus. Just being filled up, like a buffet table with all our favorite foods. Just being restored like a long lazy morning when you don’t have to get out of bed until you want to. Abide in my love. Like being wrapped up in loving arms and letting those arms be the buffer between our wounded hearts and the less than gentle world. Abide. Sounds nice. Let’s get some of that. So, Jesus, how do we go about this abiding thing?
“If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love.” Sounds a little more involved than just hanging out with Jesus. Sounds like another one of those doing kind of things. Keep my commandment ... and this is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. We abide in love when we love. We receive more of Christ’s sustaining love, strengthening power, transforming presence, when we sustain others with our love, when we strengthen those around us with our love, when we work for transformation in those who we encounter. It’s kinda like saying when we set out to love like Christ loves, we can’t ever run out.
When Fred Craddock retired from teaching preachers to be in the seminary, he couldn’t quit sharing what he learned. He moved back to the mountains, north Georgia this time, and set up a teaching facility where those who couldn’t go to seminary could come and work on their preaching. He then discovered that many of the children of those mountains were under served by the public education in the area, so he established the Craddock center that ministered to children - feeding and clothing and mentoring - from Georgia, Tennessee and North Carolina. He also preached regularly at Cherry Log Christian Church even into his 80's. It was like he didn’t know how to stop loving like Christ loved.
That’s how it happens, this abiding thing. It is when you venture out. When you wrap the love of Christ around you and take a step into the unknown, to give of yourself, you are abiding. I know, it doesn’t make sense. Abiding sounds stationary. Abiding sounds settled. But Jesus redefines abiding.
Or maybe he is just giving directions so we can find him to abide. Remember the Easter declaration? (I know, this is the third Sunday in Lent, we shouldn’t be giving away the ending, should we?) “He is not here, he is risen! And he is going before you...” You want to abide in Jesus? You have to keep moving. Because He keeps moving. He goes where the hurt is, He goes where the hunger is, He goes where the love is least so he can pour out more. And he invites us to go with him.
And here’s the bonus. This is where joy is. This abiding on the road thing. This stepping out in love journey. This is where the joy is. “I have said these things to you,” Jesus says, “so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” Complete joy. Wow, what would that be like? We get glimpses, we get moments, we get a taste of joy from time to time, if we’re lucky. But Jesus is offering something else, something more. Complete joy.
Complete because it is shared. That is the nature of joy. Mark Twain said that “grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with.” Joy is a shared experience, rather than a solitary one. Joy is of the community, even if the community is just you and Jesus. You and one other, with whom you can share and know joy. What a blessing.
One other who takes up residence in your heart and helps make you who you are. I have more than one, I suspect you do too. But one of those, Dr. Fred Craddock, died yesterday at the age of 86 from complications of Parkinson’s disease and other issues. I mourn his passing, even as I give God thanks for his witness and his service. I give God thanks that he knew how to abide in Christ’s love. And pray that to honor him and so many others, I will learn to abide as well. Thanks be to God.
Shalom,
Derek
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