Who Am I Not to Be?

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”   

Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love:  Reflections On the Principles of a Course in Miracles.

The first time I saw this quote was in the movie Akeelah and The Bee.  I watched it with my sister and daughter a few years ago.  It's a wonderful movie and I highly recommend it!  The one error of the movie that I feel obligated to highlight is that this quote is mistakenly attributed to Nelson Mandela.  Maybe Mr. Mandela said it, but he was quoting Marianne Williamson.  

I've drifted, I know.  As the main  character, Akeelah, reads these words out loud, I don't remember thinking anything specific.  But I do remember feeling something.  Recognition perhaps?  A glimmer of hope?  

You see, the first time I heard this quote, I was not the person I am today.

That may be slightly misleading.  Deep down, I was the person I am today, and yet I wasn't.  "Deep down" is the key to understanding the point I'm bumbling toward.  Deep down, the Amy that I know better now was there.  Somewhere.  But she was dying.  I realize that sounds melodramatic and a bit over the top.  But I can't state it more clearly.  That Amy was dying.  I was dying.  Spiritually.  Emotionally.  Mentally.  Physically.  Dying.

There are lots of nice ways to put what I need to say.  I let myself go.  I had gotten heavy.  I put on quite a few pounds.  But the truth is, I was fat.  My BMI (body mass index) read in the obese category.  I was fat.

It still hurts to write that.  Although that truth was obvious to anyone who looked at me, I couldn't face it.  I knew it -- once again deep down -- but I couldn't face it.  I could barely stand to face myself.  Looking in the mirror was an enterprise in pain and self loathing, and something I avoided at all costs.  I didn't recognize me.  I didn't like me.  I didn't want to be me.

A little over a year ago, I received an e-mail from a good friend that was a lifeline I didn't even know I needed.  And from that e-mail, I started a medically based diet program and lost 75 pounds.
I'm not writing this because I want to toot my own weight loss horn.  Nor am I writing it because I think of myself in ugly duckling into beautiful swan terms.  I don't see this as a girl gets thin, girl changes life, all things are wonderful kind of story.  I also don't want anyone to think that we should be judged solely on a number on a scale or a clothing size.  This isn't meant to be a celebration of thinness.

I'm writing this because losing weight forced me to examine the reasons why I gained weight.  A few years ago, I wouldn't discuss my weight with even the closest of close friends, much less write about it.  I certainly wouldn't share that writing for any and all to see.  There are lots of reasons why I was fat.  I've always struggled with weight.  It's in my genetic make up.  I wasn't alone.  Our country is experiencing an obesity epidemic.  But the ultimate cause, the most basic underlying reason was despair.  

I despaired of myself.  I gave up on myself.  I loved my family.  I had good friends and colleagues.  But I despaired of  me.  And the paradox of my life was that the larger my body became, the more invisible Amy became.  I hid behind my weight.  I believed I had nothing to offer, no glory to let shine. I despaired of me.

That is tragic.  I don't say that only because it's me I'm talking about.  It is tragic for anyone.  Despair kills hope.  Despair robs us of seeing the amazing people we were created to be.  It threatens the spark of the divine that's in all of us.  Despair makes us believe that nothing and no one matters.  Despair drives some people to drink, some people to drugs.  It drove me to food.  I may not have been proactively seeking to kill myself, but I was on the road of slow death just the same.  

By now you're probably saying to yourself, "Too much information, Amy!  TMI!"  But maybe you aren't.  I don't think I was alone in my despair, in giving up, in pushing my true, fun, fabulous self down because I was too afraid to shine.  Maybe one of you has felt the same way.  Maybe seeing a glimpse of the path I've been on will make your own a little easier to navigate.  

I'm learning, day by day, that allowing myself to shine, to be the person God created me to be, does not mean that others will be eclipsed in my wake.  Giving up on myself will not make it better for someone else.  It seems to me that the power of the human spirit is that we have the ability to hope, to believe in something better, and to act in a way that brings that hope to fruition.  Despair can't stand up to that!


Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?  Who am I not to be?

Risky Business

“A Risky Business”

Matthew 25:14-30

November 13, 2011

           

            The weather in Oklahoma reminds me a lot of the weather I grew up with in Tennessee.  Well except for the incredibly high winds.  And the frequency of tornadoes.  And the earthquakes.  Although I’m not sure you can call an earthquake a weather event.  But Oklahoma and Tennessee both get really hot in the summertime.  And Oklahoma and Tennessee can have bad ice in the winter time.  I realize I haven’t lived here during the winter yet, but I suspect that the public response to the threat of a snowstorm or an ice storm is similar to Tennessee as well.  Let me guess, everyone runs to the grocery store and stocks up on basic necessities, then hunkers down and waits.  Am I right?

            With snow and ice come snow days.  I lived for snow days as a kid.  Whenever we would have a snow day, the neighborhood kids would show up at our house and we’d settle in for a marathon of the game LIFE. 

            LIFE is a risky business kind of game, but I am, sad to say, a cautious LIFE player.  I always go the college route.  Even as a kid, I made sure I got a good education and tried to finagle a good job.  I never allowed whoever was acting as the banker to forget that I had crossed a payday space.  I kept my money in neat orderly piles, and I only spent money that I had to according to the instructions of the game.  I played by the rules, and I didn’t want to take anything more than calculated risks. 

            One of my friends – who shall remain nameless – did not play like I did.  She was a risk taker.  In the game of LIFE you have the opportunity to play the stock market.  And my friend loved to play the stock market.  If her car landed on a stock market space, she would always try to risk the cash and capital she had accumulated.

          Sometimes it paid off, and she’d win a bundle.  Sometimes it didn’t.  I watched her lose everything more than once, but she never seemed to mind.  She was never afraid to take a chance.  She was never afraid to make the gamble.  And more often than not her willingness to risk what she had would often make her the really big winner at game’s end.  She gambled big but it would pay off big as well.

            Personally I thought she was crazy.  I did not like to play the stock market.  I preferred to stockpile my money, save it for a rainy day as it were.  I couldn’t understand the appeal the stock market held for my friend.  I especially couldn’t understand why she seemed so unafraid to take the risk.  My attitude was, “just give me my money and let me go.  I’ll take what I’ve got and bury it before I waste it gambling on the stock market – even the imaginary stock market.”  Even though LIFE is just a game, I still struggle with the fact that a percentage of my money is tied up in stocks and mutual funds, etc.  Struggling economy aside, I don’t trust, never have trusted, the stock market. 

Because of this I’m especially empathetic to the plight of the third slave in this parable from Matthew.  The Master is about to go on a journey, and he calls his three slaves to him and entrusts them with the responsibility of caring for his property and his assets.  He gives each of them talents according to their unique abilities.

            When I first heard the word “talent” in this context, I thought of the God given gifts and abilities that each of us have.  And I’ve certainly heard other preachers preach that meaning in sermons on this text.  But Jesus was talking about something other than special skills and aptitudes. 

            One talent was equal to a common laborer’s wages for 15 years.  That means that the first slave got 15 years’ worth of salary times five.  In other words, if your yearly salary is 10,000 dollars, you would receive 150,000 dollars in one talent.  So if you received five talents that would be 750,000 dollars.

            This was a pretty generous master.  Not only did he give each slave a huge lump sum, he also gave them the keys to the Cadillac, the swimming pool, hot tub, the summer house on the lake and whatever other kind of luxury we can imagine.  And then the master leaves.  No specific directions; he just trusts that each slave will do the right thing.  A risky business.

            So the first slave takes his five talents, trades them and makes five more.  The second slave takes the two talents, trades them and makes two more.  But the third slave, ever cautious and hesitant about any kind of risky business, digs a hole in the ground and buries the talent entrusted to him.  This all works out fine – until the Master comes home and settles accounts.

            The first slave comes forward and says, “Look Master, you gave me five talents and I made you five more.  And the Master rewards him with, “Well done, good and trustworthy slave, you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things, enter into the joy of your Master.”

            The second slave then comes forward and says, “Master, you gave me two talents and I’ve made two more talents.”  And the Master basically gives him the same reply.  “Ya done good.  I’m going to increase your responsibilities, now enter into the joy of your Master.”

            And then there’s the third slave.  Poor guy.  I can relate to this third slave.  I guess that’s probably why I feel so sorry for him because it seems that the Master’s response to him is unreasonable and harsh.  I mean, after all, he didn’t lose any of his Master’s money; he just didn’t do anything with it.  In fact this slave followed the Jewish law to the letter.  Jewish law states that if you’re entrusted with someone else’s money or property and you bury it, you cannot be held responsible if something should happen to it, because you’ve chosen the safest course available.

            The safest course available. 

For many of us that statement accurately describes the way we handle our finances and the way we live.  Like I said, it’s true of me.  Financial risks feel like a scary, unsure thing.  Heck, I’m scared to even gamble on the stocks in a LIFE game.  Real life is a whole different world.

            So why does the Master become so enraged at the third slave?  Why does the slave lose even what he has to the first one?  And then to top it off, he’s thrown into the outer darkness where there’s weeping and gnashing of teeth.  All because he didn’t take any chances, he risked nothing with what he’d been given.  The punishment does not seem to fit the crime.

            As far as preaching goes it would be much easier to skip over this part of the story and just talk about the need for us to not hoard – we shouldn’t hoard our talents, our money or the skills and abilities that God has given us.  It would be far easier to leave the ending of the story alone. 

            I could just leave it alone and encourage all of you – and me – to not bury what has been given us, but take a risk, step out in faith, and receive more than you ever imagined.  This is an important point to make and I do want to emphasize just that.

            But this parable has an ending I can’t ignore.  It does seem that the Master really beats up on the little guy, the cautious slave, who did nothing with his talent but bury it for safekeeping.  His reaction to the slave was over the top.  It was extreme.  But think about the beginning of the parable.  That was extreme and completely over the top as well.   Who initiated the giving?  The Master.  Who was generous with everything he had?  The Master.  This story is placed near the end of Matthew’s gospel.  In just a few more chapters Jesus will make his way to Calvary.  On his way to the cross, Jesus tells a story about a man who calls his servants together and gives them everything.  Jesus is also about to go to the cross and give everything.

            Does that put the Master’s anger in a more understandable context?  William Willimon tells a story about a telephone call he overheard one day in college.  A fellow student was on the verge of completely flunking out.  He received a terrible set of grades one semester and in this phone call he was trying to explain this to his mother.  And she was on the warpath.  Apparently she was letting him have it.  Willimon figured she was just being a parent and yelling when she was supposed to yell.

            But later on, when he talked to the other student, he found out that his mother was working two jobs.  An extremely difficult one during the day, plus she had taken on a cleaning job at night – all to pay his college expenses.  Her anger and disappointment in her son makes even more sense, doesn’t it?  She was working twice as hard to put him through college as he was in being a student.  She had every right to be angry, furious with her son for goofing off.

            And so does the Master.  If I started off thinking, “How could you be so mean to that poor little guy?” I’ve come to the end of this passage thinking, “Lord, how can I take your sacrifice and your generosity and your giving of everything good and necessary and take all of it for granted?”  “What am I really doing with what I have been given?”

            What are we doing with what we’ve been given?  What are we doing with the talents entrusted to our care?  How are we using them?  How are we investing them?  Are we just burying them for safekeeping or are we taking the truly risky step of using them, expanding on them for the sake of the gospel?

            Listening to commentaries and podcasts this week, one of the points that was made was that this passage doesn’t just address individual risk.  It’s not just about what I am called to do or what you are called to do as individuals.  But it’s about our risk.  What risky business do we as a congregation need to engage in for the sake of the gospel?  What risky business is God calling us to do?  Together?

            Last week we conducted a service based on risk – my installation as your pastor.  It is a risk.  You took a risk in calling a full-time minister.  I took a risk in moving my family and my entire life to Oklahoma.  We have agreed to enter into the risk of ministry together.  We have covenanted not just to further the aims of this church in this community, but to be the living, breathing gospel of Christ in the world – together.  How that will look we are still trying to figure out, but it is a risk.  Ministry, in every shape and form it comes in, is risky because it calls us to put our very lives on the line for what we believe.  It calls us to be faithful.  William Sloane Coffin said that “Faith is not believing in what you cannot see.  Instead it is trust without reservation.”

            Trust without reservation. 

Faith and faithfulness is a risky business.  But God has entrusted us with an overflowing bounty.  God has been generous to the extreme.  Maybe it’s time for us to give back in the same way – to the extreme.  What have we been given?  What are we doing with the talents entrusted to our care?  Thank God for this risky business.  Alleluia!   Amen.

Earthquakes and Installations ... Oh My!

This past Sunday afternoon, November 6, 2011 at 4:30 p.m., I was installed as the Teaching Elder (Pastor) of the United Presbyterian Church of Shawnee, Oklahoma. It was a beautiful service filled with wonderful music, inspiring words and a lot of love.

My husband, Matt, gave a rousing charge to the congregation, reminding them about the importance of vision and reaching out.  My daughter, Phoebe, not only sang in the choir, she had a solo!  I couldn't believe that grown up young woman was my little girl.  My son, Zach, was the acolyte, lighting and extinguishing the candles with great care and dedication, even willing to don an acolyte's robe for the occasion.

I was honored to have two dear friends participate.  My friend, Jim Hawley -- whose blog inspired me to give blogging a try, and one that many of you have read thanks to Facebook -- preached a sermon based on the story of Ruth and the importance of relationship and community.  It was so powerful that members of my church told him if I didn't work out, he'd always have a place in Shawnee.  And trust me, it was indeed that good! I'm proud he's my friend.

And my dear friend, Ellen Brantley, who preached at her own church then drove four-and-a-half hours to be at my service, gave me the charge in the form of a poem she wrote just for me.  She also designed and created the stole which I wore (and will continue to wear) with pride. Her willingness to do both of these things was not only a tribute to me, but to the friendship we've built over the years.

My congregation went all out for the occasion.  The service was beautiful.  The music was beyond words, complete with guest musicians.  Members of the Achena Presbyterian Church, a nearby Seminole congregation came and sang and led the Lord's Prayer in Seminole.  And my church folks gave me the best gift of all -- my parents.  They brought my mom and dad down for the weekend.

I am also grateful for the members of Indian Nations Presbytery, and the women and men who served on my Administrative Commission.  For those of you not familiar with Presbyterian polity, these are the folks who actually made up the committee (Presbyterians LOVE committees!) that installed me on behalf of the presbytery.  Still don't fully understand?  I'll explain later.

It's been over a decade since I've been installed in a church, and I wanted this service to be as amazing as possible.  I got my wish and more.

I even got an earthquake.

It's true.  Actually we've had at least two earthquakes plus significant aftershocks over the last few days.  Are you paging up to the top of the blog, checking to make sure I wrote Shawnee, Oklahoma and not California?  You read it correctly.  We've been having earthquakes in Oklahoma.

I can honestly say that's not what I expected when I moved here.  Tornadoes -- sure.  (And in fact, western Oklahoma had a few of those on Monday.)  Wind -- absolutely.  Dust -- why not?  But earthquakes?

At about 2:30 Saturday morning Zach, Matt and I felt the first one rumble through.  Felt is an understatement.  The house shook.  The bed shook.  We shook, moving back and forth like we were on a ride at Disney World. Phoebe slept peacefully through the whole thing.

That night, at about 11:00 p.m., Phoebe experienced a quake in full force because we had another, stronger quake.  It was 5.6 on the Richter scale according to the news and the U.S. geological site.  I was proud of myself that while the second one was happening, I was wearing the heels I'd bought for the installation the next day (anyone whose ever worn heels knows that you have to break them in) and I managed to remain upright. 

But in spite of my ability to remain standing, I was unnerved by the whole event.  I've never experienced earthquakes before.  I don't think I want to experience anymore of them. And even though I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, I was worried that two earthquakes in 24 hours the day before my installation was an omen.  A bad omen.

But my sister who lives in Greece and has survived a number of earthquakes over the years reassured me.  The earthquakes, when looked at from a non-scientific perspective, might well be an omen, but not a bad one.  A good one.

People discern God's call in a number of ways.  Maybe they hear a voice in dreams or visions.  Perhaps they are presented with an opportunity they never thought of before.  I discerned God's call to do this new thing in this new place in an unceasing restlessness.  I needed to shake things up.  I needed to be shaken up.  I just didn't know how literal that shaking would be.

So, according to my sister, the earthquake signified the fact that I will shake things up around these parts.  That is great, but I also know that I will be shaken.  Shaken by the great need of the people in this community.  In the days following my installation, I've seen the hunger in a little boy's eyes to be read to, just read to.  I've been approached by one of the homeless men who comes to our community dinner.  He didn't want money, he just wanted a place for he and his wife to stay for the night.  It was cold and he was tired of sleeping in the park and being hungry, always hungry.  There is another homeless person sleeping on a semi-enclosed side porch of our church.  I don't begrudge this child of God the shelter, but I worry that the ceiling above him or her will come crashing down.  This is an old building that needs a lot of love ... and repair.

I am being shaken -- up, down and sideways.  The need is great, and I don't pretend to be a super pastor or a super woman with all the answers.  Far from it.  But I trust one thing, and that's the belief that I was called here by God for a reason.  The installation may be over, but the ministry has just begun.  Let's get shaking!

The One Foundation

“The One Foundation”

Matthew 23:1-12

October 30, 2011

Reformation Sunday/All Saint’s Day

            “The church’s one foundation is Jesus Christ her Lord.  She is His new creation by water and the word; from heaven He came and sought her to be His holy bride; with His own blood he bought her, and for her life He died.”[1]

            This is a hymn that I grew up singing.  The tune was written by Samuel Sebastian Wesley, grandson of Charles Wesley, one of the leaders of the Methodist movement in England. 

            Although this isn’t one we would consider a typical example of a Reformation hymn, I do think it represents the underlying purpose of the Reformation which was to get back to what really mattered in faith, our one and true foundation – Jesus Christ. 

            Isn’t that what Martin Luther wanted to make clear when he nailed his 95 theses to the door of the Wittenburg Castle?  He wanted the church to address the ways that it had gone astray from the teachings of Christ.  He wanted the church to acknowledge that it had forgotten its foundation.  Luther wanted reform, not for the sake of reform alone, and certainly not to start a new church in his name, but to get back to what was the true foundation, the one foundation – Jesus the Christ.

            John Calvin, the spiritual father of Presbyterians, also took up that battle cry.  What is the true foundation of the church?  Is it church doctrine?  Rules?  Regulations?  Church law?  Or is it God in Jesus Christ?  And if it is Jesus Christ, then what is the first and foremost source of our knowledge?

            The answer to that question was scripture. Sola Scriptura.  Scripture alone. Not doctrine or teachings created by the church, but scripture.

            In an article on the Reformation and the purpose of celebrating Reformation Sunday, writer Lukas Vischer reminds us that the time of the Reformation was not as idealized or as romanticized as we sometimes make it out to be.  The Reformation was a time of struggle and conflict, often violent conflict. 

            Luther carried a price on his head, and it’s actually amazing that he was able to live out a relatively normal life span.  Many of the reformers were persecuted for their willingness to defy the traditions and teachings of the church. 

            John Calvin was originally banished from Geneva by the very people who had asked him to come there and to bring reform to the entire city.    

            And I’ll never forget my first Presbyterian minister, Al Tisdale, telling us in officer training that John Knox didn’t come to this country just because he was eager to bring the principles of Reformation to America.  He came because he had to get the heck out of Scotland. 

            The days of the reformation were often dark ones.  As Vischer wrote, “The Reformation was a turbulent period.  It was characterized by harsh debates and struggles.  It led to a deep rift in Western Christianity, and even to violence and military conflicts.” [2]

            But at the heart of the Reformation was the realization that the true source of the church was nothing that it could create itself.  It was only Christ.  Christ was the true source.  Christ was the one foundation. 

            And what was true for the reformers is true for the church today.  What is the true source of our very being?  It’s not our traditions, although we love them dearly and tradition itself is not inherently bad or wrong.  It’s not our structures or our polity – and trust me, I may not have grown up Presbyterian, but I am a good one.  I resonate with our church governance as much if not more than some people I know who come from generations of Presbyterians. 

            The source of our being as Presbyterians, as Reformed Christians, as Christians in general, is Christ. 

            Christ is our one foundation.

            I contemplated seriously just ignoring the gospel passage this morning, although when I started off the week I was determined to preach from it.  It’s another challenging passage from Matthew’s gospel, and we’ve had so many challenging passages in these last weeks that, frankly, I’m just worn out from them. 

            And I know I’m not alone in this, because even on the sermon podcast that I listen to, the biblical scholars and professors were eager to move on as quickly as possible from these verses in Matthew and talk about the other scripture passages for today.  So we were all in the same boat as it were when it comes to preaching this passage.

            What’s really daunting about taking on these opening verses from Matthew 23 is that Jesus is talking to the religious teachers and leaders, you know, people like me, rather than just the folks in the crowds around him. 

            So if I were preaching this passage before a gathering of my minister colleagues, it might be more appropriate.  It would call all of us to task for what we do and say.  It would call us on the carpet as to whether we practice what we teach or if we just like the attention that we get because we’re in positions of authority.    

            Yet even as I say that, I think this passage has particular meaning in what we observe and celebrate today on Reformation Sunday. 

            As I understand it, Jesus is challenging the religious teachers and leaders for caring more about the external trappings of the faith than for what faith is really about.  He’s saying, “Listen, you ask the people who put their trust in you to carry burdens that you won’t carry.  You care more about showing off how faithful you are, than you do about actually being faithful.  You love the benefits of your position more than you love God.” 

            Isn’t that what the Reformers asked of the church?  Isn’t that what we have to ask of ourselves?

            Luther was driven not only by his own feeling of never being worthy enough for God, but also by the burdens the church laid on the common people.  In essence the church asked them to buy their way to heaven by buying indulgences, a way of buying their way or a loved one’s way out of purgatory into heaven.  These indulgences supported the cost of being the church.  Luther could not abide by that.  So he questioned that practice and others.  And his willingness to question, to challenge began a process of change, of reform. 

            Calvin believed our whole lives should reflect the glory of God.  For him it wasn’t just about the reform of the church.  He wanted reform to be widespread, in our actions, our teachings, our living. 

            Both of these men and so many others wanted the church to find again its one foundation.

            Perhaps that’s what our celebration of this day really needs to be about.  It’s not about celebrating the Reformers themselves.  As Lukas Vischer made clear in his article, John Calvin would not have wanted to be celebrated for himself.  None of the reformers would have wanted that.  Luther, Calvin, and the rest of the reformers were not trying to point to themselves, they were pointing to Christ. 

            So when we celebrate this day, we also have to figure out if we’re pointing solely to our structures and traditions or to Christ.  It seems to me that that’s what the Reformation was all about.  It was a reorienting back to the true source of the church. 

            And even though the historical Reformation happened centuries ago, we can never stop asking the same questions that the original reformers asked.  Have we forgotten our true source?  Have we gotten so caught up in the external trappings of our faith, that we forget why we’re here at all?

            What reformation needs to happen today? 

            That’s a loaded question, because I guarantee that each one of us would answer that question differently and use scripture to justify our response.  But to me that just proves that the Spirit which guided the Reformers is alive and well and breathing new life in the church today. 

            That’s the one factor that we can’t forget.  The Holy Spirit.  I have no doubt that the power of the Holy Spirit was moving during the Reformation, calling new life into old ways.  And I give thanks everyday for later reformers who were also guided by the Holy Spirit to challenge old ways.  Without them, without their courage and conviction, a woman would not be standing in the pulpit before you this morning. 

            So on this day of remembering, of reformers and saints, let us remember that our one foundation, the only foundation is Christ.  We are the church because of Christ.  We are here because of Christ.  The Spirit of Christ guides us, calls us, pushes us, moves us.  Our past is in Christ.  Our present is in Christ.  Our future is in Christ.  God in Christ calls us to be reformed and ever reforming.

            “Yet she on earth has union with God the Three in One, and mystic sweet communion with those whose rest is won:  O happy ones and holy!  Lord, give us grace that we, like them, the meek and lowly, may live eternally.”  [3]

            Alleluia!  Amen.

---

[1] The Church’s One Foundation by Samuel Sebastian Wesley and Samuel John Stone; The Presbyterian Hymnal, Westminster/John Knox Press, Louisville, KY, 1990.

[2] Vischer, Lukas, “The Significance of the Reformation in Our World Today”.

[3] The Church’s One Foundation by Samuel Sebastian Wesley and Samuel John Stone; The Presbyterian Hymnal, Westminster/John Knox Press, 1990.