I’m finally having to retire my old wooden bat. It cracked the other night in our first tournament game in the men’s church softball league. Before my first game with it two years ago, Drew kidded me that he didn’t think I’d get a hit with it. He even said he’d buy my lunch if I did. Turns out, I got a hit on my very first at-bat with it! I’ve been using that bat ever since. Players from the opposing team often kid me about my wooden bat, too. For example, John, the catcher for St. Augustine, always instructs the outfielders to come in when I step up to the plate, which just inspires me even more to find the hole. I like to tell him and all the other skeptics and doubters that Jesus used a wooden bat. I’ve been called “Roy Hobbs” (after the main character of the finest baseball movie ever made, The Natural) and my bat referred to as “Wonder Boy” (the name of Roy’s wooden bat). But I’m grateful that my fellow Holey Sox teammates have treated it with respect. I’ve offered to let them use it, too, but they’re all afraid they’d break it, and none of them wanted that hanging over their heads! So the other night at my last at-bat, I popped one up, but it sounded weird. My teammates immediately said, “Sounds like you’ve got a cracked bat.” We carefully inspected it, and sure enough, there was a crack in the handle. But it still managed to bring a runner home on its last hurrah, so you could say it went down swinging! The origin of this bat remains somewhat clouded in my mind, but I believe it came into my hands around 1980, when I was about 6 years old. My brother and I used some S&H Green Stamps (the young people might need to Google what those were) to purchase some baseball gloves and equipment. That bat got a lot of use for several years in the playing field in our neighborhood, and then it stood silent in our family’s garage for decades until we cleaned out the house in 2018 to get it ready to sell. That’s when I found that old bat again and realized I couldn’t part with it but wanted it in my garage. So when I got called up to the church softball league in summer 2023, I knew it was time to get it back out again. That old bat has gotten me thinking about something Jesus said. He was teaching a bunch of parables, which are stories about what the kingdom of heaven is like. Stories about seeds, about weeds and wheat, about precious pearls and such. He wraps it all up by asking his disciples if they’ve understood any of it. They say they do. And then he told them “every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old” (Matthew 13:52). There’s a lot of new things in this world, and we can give thanks for a lot of them. But there are still a few old things lying around, too. Things that have stood the test of time. Things that don’t break or crack under pressure. Things like faith, hope, and love (1 Corinthians 13:13). Things like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). We’d drive ourselves batty, wooden we, if we let go of these things?

A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to boat down the Hiwassee River with Russell Hill, one of our church members, along with his brother and nephew. I had kayaked down the Hiwassee a few times, but the last time I went I swamped my flatwater kayak going through one of the rapids. So Russell asked me if I’d like to try one of his open-boat canoes. I thought that sounded like fun. A new adventure! So we loaded up the boats one Friday morning and headed for the river. Along the way, he gave me an orientation on how canoeing is different from kayaking. Kayakers use a double-bladed paddle which allows you to paddle on both sides of the boat, but canoeists use a single-bladed paddle, which will get you going in circles if you don’t know what you’re doing! He said paddling in a straight line will be the hardest thing I’ll learn to do, and he was right. He showed me how to do it though, and after some practice in that first stretch of the river, I began to get the hang of it. As we approached each of the small class 1 and 2 rapids, he would give me a little orientation to how we would navigate them. Then he simply said to me, “Follow me.” And I did the best I could to follow the exact line through the rapids that he did. By the end of the afternoon, I hadn’t swamped my boat or fallen out of it a single time! I consider that a successful—and fun—river ride! Russell said he couldn’t count the number of times he’d gone down the Hiwassee River. Possibly 150 times or more. He’s long since graduated up to much rougher, tougher rivers like the Ocoee and the Nantahala. He’s quite the skilled river runner, in the same “boat” (so to speak) as some other church members like Bill Mitchum, Henry Allen, and Hugh Bullock. Russell was an experienced guide and a patient teacher. And he led me down the river with two simple words: “Follow me.” In other words, go where I go. Do what I do. I’ll lead you safely through. It just so happens that “follow me” are the same two simple words Jesus has been saying to folks in boats since the days of Simon and Andrew, James and John (Matthew 4:19, Mark 1:17). He says these two words at least twenty different times across the Gospels. And they are among his last words to his disciples; he told Peter no less than two times at the end of John, “Follow me” (John 21:19, 22). Just like the Hiwassee River, our lives can sometimes roll along pretty smoothly, and other times there can be some bumps, some choppy waters. But the call is the same. Follow me. Go where I go. Do what I do. I’ll lead you safely through.

Love God. Love People. That was the goal for our Signal Crest Summer Camp Staff this summer! We focused on Matthew 22:37–39: “He said to him, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” Our Camp Staff “loved God” by pursuing God daily as they prepared lessons for their groups. They spent time each morning connecting with God in prayer and praying for the day ahead. They also “loved God” by caring for His creation and His children. Signal Crest Summer Camps are unique and special because of our Camp Staff and volunteers. This year, our team was comprised of Gracie Ellis, our assistant camp director, five college students, and five high school juniors and seniors. We were also blessed with more than 25 youth volunteers throughout the summer. Each staff member and volunteer used their unique gifts to connect with campers and love their neighbor. We were grateful to connect with 230 campers over four weeks of camp. In addition, our Camp Staff connected with 75 campers at the Chambliss Center for Children as we partnered with their summer camp. All the campers, staff, and volunteers shared God’s love through service. Throughout our camps, campers created: 78 birthday bags for the Bethlehem Center Food Pantry 175 homeless care packs 275 teacher appreciation gifts for Howard and the Chambliss Center 400+ sack lunches for the Mustard Tree Ministry During our outreach camp, 10 middle school students served at the Bethlehem Center, Chambliss Center, Crabtree Farms, and Mustard Tree. Every camper learned how to share God’s love through action. It was a great summer of sharing God’s love! As we move into fall, I encourage you to think about how you can “Love God and Love People.” Blessings, Drew Barton Signal Crest Summer Camp Director

One of the most interesting architectural features of our sanctuary is the large wood and metal cross that hangs from the ceiling above the chancel area. It’s not easily or immediately visible, however, because it blends in with the latticework that soars above the choir loft all the way up to the skylights. Someone was commenting to me this week that it’s curious that the cross, the central symbol of our Christian faith, doesn’t stand out more prominently in the front of our sanctuary. I remember thinking the same thing when I arrived here as pastor three years ago. But I also realized that from where I stand on Sunday mornings, facing the congregation, the cross in the back of the sanctuary, above the balcony, stands out strongly, starkly. You can’t miss it. This got me to wondering whether the architects were trying to communicate something about how we enter into worship and how we leave worship. I wonder if we enter into worship on Sundays, so formed and shaped by the ways of the world around us, that the cross, though definitely present among us, is difficult for us to discern, to distinguish. But maybe it is through our worship together—through the practice of singing our praises to God, offering our prayers to God, sharing our gifts to the glory of God, and listening to and pondering together the Word of God, especially words of Jesus like “whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:27)—that the countercultural, self-giving, other-serving way of Christ, the way of the cross, becomes much more clearly seen as standing out in stark contrast to the consumptive, self-serving ways of the world. And then maybe we can leave worship with a much clearer view of the cross we are called by Christ to take up in this world. Christians are called not to blend in, but to stand out. That’s what the word “holy” means—set apart, different from. Our worship together is one of the ways we are formed and shaped as God’s holy people, so that whether anyone else in all the world ever sees the cross in our sanctuary, they at least will see the cross in you and me.

Where do you go to find a sense of peace? Maybe you go for a hike out in the woods. Maybe you go out to the lake or along the river. Maybe you have a quiet place in your home. One of the places I find particularly peaceful is the memorial garden here at the church. In addition to occasional worship services (like our Good Friday Tenebrae) and the preschool’s annual butterfly release, the trustees have approved the use of this space for the burial or spreading of ashes, so that it can be an enduring memorial garden for church members and their loved ones. This space has received some refreshment in these past few months. A local landscaper, Asher Powers, has installed some new stone decks and walkways, planted several different ferns and other flowering plants, and spread some mulch, and all of this has given the memorial garden a fresh new look. But one of the features has remained—the peace pole. The peace pole stands to the side under one of the trees. It has the prayer “May peace prevail on the earth” posted in eight different languages, including Hebrew, Arabic, and Spanish. Every time I find myself in the memorial garden, I find my eyes drawn to this pole and its prayer, and I am drawn more deeply into a sense of peace. At the center of the church’s “footprint” on this earth is this place of peace. Peace, not only for those who have passed on to glory, but peace for the living. If you are trying to find a greater sense of peace in your life, in your faith, in this world, perhaps you might want to spend some time sitting on a bench, by the peace pole under the tree in our memorial garden.

One hundred years ago this week, on July 10, 1925, the nation’s attention was drawn to a legal drama just up the road from us in the small town of Dayton, Tennessee. It was the so-called “Scopes Monkey Trial.” John T. Scopes was a young high school teacher who was charged with violating the state’s Butler Act, which essentially prohibited the teaching of the theory of evolution. Major national figures were involved in the trial. William Jennings Bryan, a three-time Democratic presidential nominee, former Secretary of State, and outspoken opponent of evolutionary teaching, prosecuted the case; Clarence Darrow, the “Matlock” of his day, served as the defense attorney. It was a major media event; over 200 national reporters came to town to cover the case. In the end, Scopes was convicted and the Butler Act was upheld, but religious fundamentalism suffered a humiliation that it has spent the last century recovering from and rising to new life in various contemporary movements. I first became acquainted with the Scopes trial when I was in college and was given a big part in the 1955 play Inherit the Wind that was based on this story. As the local feed store clerk and hot dog salesman, I provided the comic relief! But the experience indelibly introduced in my mind the question of the relationship between religion and science. This is a question our culture is still trying to sort out. It seems that many in our society want to frame the relationship as one of conflict. Religion and science can’t both be true, the story goes; it’s got to be either one or the other. But I don’t see it that way. I think they can both be true, in their own ways. They each address different kinds of questions. Science asks when and how questions; religion asks who and why. Evolution may say how and when the world was created; but revelation says who created it and why. And we need both science and religion; we have much to learn from both. And I worry that, just like we ignore matters of religious faith at our own ultimately eternal peril, so too do we ignore matters of scientific research at our own earthly peril. One of the scriptures that helps me keep things in their proper perspective is Psalm 8, which asks that great question: “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them? Yet you have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honor” (Psalm 8:3-5). How simultaneously humbling and uplifting! The psalm both begins and ends with the same acclamation of praise to God: “O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!” (Psalm 8:1, 9). How majestic indeed!

As we celebrate this week our nation’s independence from British colonialism, I’m pondering whether there might be a virtue higher and greater than independence. Like our nation itself, all of us start out our lives dependent upon others—our parents, grandparents, caretakers—for food, for clothing, for shelter. As infants, toddlers, and small children, we cannot care for ourselves. We are completely dependent upon others to do for us what we cannot do for ourselves. As we grow older—become adolescents, teenagers, young adults—we gradually gain more of a sense of independence . I remember when I turned 16 and got my driver’s license, I felt like I had finally arrived. I could go where I wanted, when I wanted. I was independent! But who was paying for my gas, for my insurance, for the car itself? Maybe I wasn’t as independent as I wanted to think I was! We value independence so very much. It’s what we want for ourselves. It’s what we want for our kids and grandkids. We want them to grow up and become independent. And a sense of independence can be healthy, especially when one seeks to be free from oppressive governments or oppressive relationships. But I wonder if there is a virtue even more valuable than independence. It seems to me that the Bible teaches us that God ultimately calls us not to independence but to interdependence upon God and one another. We are completely dependent upon God for life, for salvation, for everything! But God is also depending upon us to be God’s witnesses, to shine forth God’s image in the world around us. And as we are exploring in our summer worship series, God calls us to a life of interdependence with one another. We’re called to love one another, to welcome one another, to bear one another’s burdens, to forgive one another, to encourage one another, to pray for one another. God calls us beyond our dependence, and even our independence, to interdependence. So this week, as we join in the celebration of our nation’s independence, let us also remember that God calls us—as individuals, as congregations, and even as a nation—to the higher virtue of interdependence, a way of relating with God and one another that reflects the interdependence of God as a Trinity.

Prayer is a spiritual practice that I feel I’ve always had a high level of “want to” but a relatively low level of quite knowing “how to.” But a card on one of the tables in the display area at our annual conference a couple of weeks ago caught my eye. It was entitled “H.O.W. Do I Begin?” I thought I’d share this acronym with you in case you’ve ever wanted to grow in your practice of “HOW to” pray. The H in the acronym stands for “honest.” Paul’s confession in Romans 8:26 that “we do not know how to pray as we ought” strikes me as refreshingly honest. So too does the prayer by the Quaker author Richard Foster that is provided on this card. I am, O God, a jumbled mass of motives. One moment I am adoring you, and the next I am shaking my fist at you. I vacillate between mounting hope, and deepening despair. I am full of faith, and full of doubt. I want the best for others, and am jealous when they get it. Even so, God, I will not run from your presence. Nor will I pretend to be what I am not. Thank you for accepting me with all my contradictions. Amen. The O stands for “open.” The practice of prayer opens our heart to God and God’s heart to us. The prayer provided for “open” on this card is by the mystic Howard Thurman: Open unto me—light for my darkness. Open unto me—courage for my fear. Open unto me—hope for my despair. Open unto me—peace for my turmoil. Open unto me—joy for my sorrow. Open unto me—strength for my weakness. Open unto me—wisdom for my confusion. Open unto me—forgiveness for my sins. Open unto me—tenderness for my toughness. Open unto me—love for my hates. Open unto me—Thy self for myself. Lord, Lord, open unto me! Amen. The W stands for “ willing .” I am reminded of Jesus’ famous prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane the night of his arrest: “Lord, let this cup pass from me, but not my will but yours be done” (Matthew 26:39). A prayer in a similar spirit is that of Julian of Norwich: Lord, you know what I desire, but I desire it only if it is your will that I should have it. If it is not your will, good Lord, do not be displeased, for my will is to do your will. Amen. So HOWever it is that you may pray, may our praying with God be honest, open, and willing.

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