Listening in Heat and Drought

What does one say to a farmer in 108 degree drought conditions as they watch corn stalks roast, soybeans wilt and alfalfa wither in the fields?

You say nothing. You 'stand with' always. You pray unceasingly.

My Dad is telling stories of 1954 when it got up to 112 degrees and the corn turned white, in one day. There's a lot of that going on right now . . . remembering. Remembering when, in a time gone past, crops didn't produce, livestock struggled, income shrunk, families went broke, farms were vacated, neighbors helped one another, friends shared resources, and the faith community became that one refuge of respite in the midst of the storm. Remembering when prayers were lifted up and rains did not come falling down. Remembering when the coolness of the servant soul was tested by the heat of the Summer sun. Remembering when the hopes of Spring planting hit the wall of weather's reality. Remembering . . . and wondering what these days will bring.

On days like this, I try to do a lot of listening for it's in the telling of stories that the balm is remembered in Gilead. I am not God, nor am I in a position of defending God when things aren't going well (Though, Lord only knows that everyone and their brother wants to take credit for 'having influence with God'when everything is going well and prosperity is the gospel upon which kingdoms are built!), yet as a servant of Jesus Christ I am called, in season and out of season, to witness to the Presence of God, the nearness of the Kingom, even when the world seems painful and despairing. I am called to 'stand with' those in deepest distress, not with words of explanation, but with the same heart of compassion Jesus shared with the lepers, the tax collectors, the sinners, and the oppressed.

Sometimes, when words finally fail, the Spirit can break in - making new the hope that was left back in the land so long ago.

It is going to be hot and dry today . . . again. The God who was with you in the days of adequate rainfall and moderate temperatures is with you also in the days of drought and heat. Listen.

Ched Is Home

Ched is home.


In our thirty six years of marriage, Nancy and I have learned that there are few words sweeter to say . . . not just about Ched, (Though having him home is abso-tively su-onderful!) but about each of our children. To say, "Matt is home", or "Ray is home", or "Ched is home", is to savor a moment in time that always seems to pass far too quickly.

Each of our boys now have their own home settings, certainly, and with Matt and Ray, each has their own family obligations, yet, when they walk in the door of our home, they have come home to our hearts. The same would be true no matter where we lived. The ones birthed in the love two people share become co-inheritors of that family legacy. It gives me a deeper appreciation for the father of the Prodigal Son, who ran down the long lane of his estate to meet his youngest son as he returned home: 'The one once lost to whatever the world has to offer has now returned to spend time in the home of my heart.' Such moments are rarely rational to the casual observer and motivations are oft-times questioned, still, to the parent, 'Our child has come home' are the words of sacred liturgy few worship services are blessed to speak.

Hugging my Dad yesterday as we gathered for a different family celebration, I confess to hanging on just a little longer, to saying, "I love you" with a lot more meaning, and to appreciating a whole lot more all that he has done for each of us boys over the years. Even trying in these moments to give language to what only the heart can express leaves my eyes a bit teary in the failing of my words, for I wonder how many times my Dad and Mom said exactly the same thing of me . . . . and I went merrily on, not understanding how much my most casual visit meant. And, if so for we who are here on earth, how much more is it so for God, the Parent of all creation?

Ched is home . . . and I will cherish these days for the gift they are. Thank you, God, for this simple and powerful blessing. May I return the joy in being Home in You, always.

Marriage: A Covenantal Gift of God

I was incredibly blessed to officiate the marriage of our niece, Melissa Wagner, to Corwin Kelly last evening at the Drumm Farm Golf Club in Independence, Missouri. It was the perfect evening, on the perfect place of a golf course, with just the right number of family and friends gathered around, with beautiful music, great food, a great set of attendants, and, of course, a storybook love shared by two incredible people. God is at work here and we are the privileged observers.

The older I become and the longer I am in ministry the more convinced I am that marriage is, indeed, a sacred and holy covenant between two people, a covenant which begins in God, not in the government, nor the church. Biblically speaking, God is the Holy Covenant-Maker. Humanity, at best, tries to keep covenant with God in every moment and aspect of our living. When two people come together in love what is seen in each other, what is seen by those around them, is the presence of God at work in covenant. God binds two hearts together in Spirit and blesses them in grace and mercy, a covenantal process which begins long before two people ever share a marriage vow. God does not need our legalities, our ceremonies, or our approval. God does as God has always done in the midst of humankind: God creates in love and binds in Self-sacrifice for the other. Everything else we add as human-folderol, the vanity of believing we have control and authority over what God is doing, all in the name of maintaining cultural norms and acceptability. Truth be told, if God wanted humanity in charge of maintaining cultural norms and acceptability, Jesus would not have been necessary . . . which may say something about why He was crucified . . . and why God raised Him on the third day.

Reflecting on Cory and Melissa's wedding, I am awestruck and totally amazed at God's breathtaking work, none of which had anything to do with the ceremony and all of which had to do with the two of them. Hollywood is incapable of capturing the essence of what we are honored to view as two people look into each other's eyes and see God's perfection manifest. Such is what humbles me nearly every time I officiate a wedding: Though a servant of Christ in the Church and, for the sake of this one moment in time, a minion of the State as an officiant, I am first and foremost blessed to see God transforming life, embodying dreams, fulfilling visions, and starting new creation. Words may be spoken, vows may be shared, but what God is doing requires no other affirmation than what one person sees in another's heart and trusts 'till death do us part'. It's not sappy, it's true. I know, for I'm married, too.

God bless you, Melissa and Cory, in what God is doing in and through you. May you always find God's Peace strengthening you, not in the vows you have spoken, but in the Covenant you keep for the sake of the other. Such is the love God has for you - and for all who believe.

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take . . . "


Evening prayers . . . the words of which taught my young mind and heart the transiency of life and the need to trust all our days to be in the Lord's hands. These words are followed by petitions for blessings to surround family, friends, the church, and anyone/anything else which might be on your mind.

This prayer, along with "Come, Lord Jesus, be Thou our guest and let this food to us be blessed. Amen." were the two prayers that shaped my early prayer life most profoundly and consistently, primarily because they were spoken every day and, often, with my parents.

How many parents still pray with their children? How many children witness their parent's bowed heads, folded hands, and heartfelt words? How many times do young eyes see and developing ears hear a humble cry, a faith-based appeal, or a praise of thanksgiving rendered unto God? How many children grow up with the sense of God's imminence because someone who loved them sat with them and prayed with them? How many parents or even grandparents dare to render devotion and worship of Something/Someone greater than themselves with those who are depending on them to give them real survival skills?

"I can do it myself!" are the words of child wanting to take on the next big step and prove to another their abilities. "I can do all things in the One who saves me" are the words of wisdom and faith which are grounded in life's toughest experiences. Which are the words, the actions, you are teaching the most impressionable around you?

Thank you, God, for parents, grandparents, a church family and a loving community, all of whom taught me to love and trust You! Grant me the wisdom, faith and pace to do the same for those who most depend upon me. Amen.

Prayers for Friends

This morning my soul is troubled for two young friends who are struggling mightily with their health. The questions they and their parents ask of God, of their mortality, and of their worthiness to be 'normal' (elusive as that may be for all of us), are both legion and eternal. Personally, my heart aches for they and their parents in these days of such severe trials, and pastorally, my soul cries out to God to hear their cries, to make it better, to tend to their pain.


Sometimes the hardest part of hearing those first words of Psalm 22 cross Jesus' lips upon the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" is remembering to continue reading the Psalm after verse one. Much like it is when someone tells a familiar story and after the first couple of words you instantly know the whole of the story, so it is with Psalms among God's people: The first words spoken invite the listening audience to re-member the whole of the story. In the midst of great pain and undeserved suffering, in the stir of angry crowds and vitriolic language, and in the trial of both body and soul in such a public arena, Jesus' call to God in the speaking of these words is both petition and confession: 'This is a hard spot to be in, God, I don't deserve it', and yet, 'I trust You, God, with all that I was, all that I am, and all that I ever will be. My life is in Your hands for all eternity. Use me to your glory.' (Read Ps. 22:25-31)

There is a part of every one of us which wants to assign a reason for what is happening, to issue blame, to understand the rationale. There is language in our culture which shifts the outcome of our mortality to God with phrases like, 'God won't give you more than you can bear', or 'God is testing you', or 'You must have done something to offend God', or 'God must have really wanted them in heaven' . . . . all of which makes God the 'bad Guy' (not that God can't take such accusations) and takes away the power of the cross and an empty tomb. You just can't root that sort of language in Jesus or the Gospels, it isn't there.

What is found in Jesus, what is written in the Gospels, is the good news itself, especially for those who suffer in this world: God has heard your cries and is come to meet you where you are and walk with you in it all. You are not alone, which is the nearness of the Kingdom embodied. Were that not true, Jesus would not have endured the cross in faithfulness to God. Everyone there waited for Him to step down from those wooden beams and steel nails of pain and say, 'No more!' Yet, what Jesus did was even more profound: He took on our daily suffering, He took on our questions, He took on our deepest anger and confusion . . . and endures with us every moment of it all and, that we not lose faith in the midst of it all, He walked out of the tomb and emptied death of its oppressive power.

God is not giving you pain to bear, God is bearing the pain with you in Christ. God is not testing you, God is undergoing the frailty of mortality with you in Christ. God has not taken offense with you, God is expressing favor for you in Christ. God does not take you away from your life, your friends, your family, prematurely just for the sake of having you next to God in heaven, but when the world conspires against you, when your body doesn't heal they way we would hope that it does, or when accidents in this life occur, God in Christ claims your very life as God's own and holds you in God's arms of deepest compassion, much as a parent holds a child in their lap and presses them against their breast.

I pray for my friends this day, even as I pray for all those who endure life's challenges, that there be healing, peace and assurance from the very hand of God through the Holy Spirit in the love and nearness of Christ. And, I pray the faith, strength and love to be the best friend I can be as a disciple of Christ, whose Good News is Life itself. Always.

It's Raining

It's raining. There are few words which will, in the driest of times, stir a farmers heart like those two little words: It's raining.

Driving back from a St. Louis hospital this morning(in the rain, hee-hee!) one of the local radio personalities was bemoaning the overcast, rainy weather we are having and I thought, "It's clear you don't earn your living from the land, nor do you know the difference this rain makes in the quality or cost of the food you buy." I know, I know, most people can only see their own self-interest and what affects it, yet, as dry as it has been one might think a word of joy might be appropriate . . . .

So, rather than bemoan the voice of uninformed ignorance, I take this moment to thank God for prayers answered. I thank God for hearing the cries of the truly 1% of the American population (American farmers) who live in this neck of the woods. I thank God for tending to the needs of the 100% of the people around the world who depend on their labors, their furrowed brows in such times, their clasped hands in humble connection with our Creator, and their unending faith even when prayers for rain are not answered. I thank God for the luxury of praying for the health of crops which grow in responsive joy to the Care they are given. And, I thank God for the grace given to such poor 'schlookers' like me who don't deserve such an abundant gift, yet from whom no good gift is withheld.

Thank you, God, for the rain today. Like the sound of an empty tomb when death is thought to hold sway, it is sweet music to my ears and the kindest of gifts You could offer for the people of the land with whom You work each day. We sing Your praises!

Thoughts on the Farmers Among Us

Driving through the country on my way to a hospital this afternoon, the mounting heat combined with the ongoing dry conditions in our region left me feeling really worried for the farmers. The corn is starting to whorl and the beans are looking a sickly lime green. Dust-devils spin their way through acres of field and pastures, giving the sky the tannish-hue of baby poop. The birds are perched in shaded protection, leaving only the occasional Turkey Vulture to scout the roads for a wayside buffet. Livestock are seeking out the remaining mud puddles of winding creeks and watering trough overflows. Even the barnyard dogs have left their watchful positions, seeking the cool earth underneath hibiscus plants and grape arbors.

It is a worrisome time for those who have invested so much to feed so many and, despite the very best of varieties and tillage practices, still find their gaze lingering on the sun drenched skies, piercing the blue for the prayer of a cloud bank. It is as if a faucet has been turned off. Those who have never farmed will never fully understand the intimate connectedness of a farmer's hand with that of God in tending to all of God's creation and, for those who deny either the connectedness or God . . . . well, they are denying even their own existence for wont of the 'logical' explanation.

The farmers I know are the true high priests of the faith, for they are constantly on bended knee before the One who calls them to labor mightily for the sake of the other. Theirs are the hands that feel the soil and know its worth, whether in need or in abundance. Theirs are the eyes that can scan the earth and see the vision of Eden proclaimed before them. Theirs are the ears which hear the most ancient of Voices call them to labor in the fields which were long before them and will survive long after them. Theirs are the taste buds which savor the wonder of a sprig of alfalfa in the same way they marvel at the first of tomatoes, the sweetness of new potatoes, and the humbling awe of grape jelly made from the sweat of their brow. Theirs is the sense of smell which can discern the ripeness of wheat, the warmth of the soil, the nearness of rain, and the majesty of country lilacs . . . all without having to take a step off the front porch of their home.

Farmers are the ones among us who should be the honored guests in every home, yet are most likely to be among the lowly who enter from the back door and settle at a seat in the kitchen, a glass of water or a cup of coffee their only request. Farmers rise with the emerging sun to meet the pressing need and are often found lingering on the smallest of chores long after the moon has claimed its spot in the sky. Farmers speak the liturgy of Body and Blood in the birthing of calves, their care for foaling, and their attention to lambing. Farmers baptize in water and Spirit all that is holy in the presence of God as they nurture the tenderest of shoots with the same passion and conviction as given to the tallest of trees and the broadest of fields. With sweat marked caps and grease spotted shirts and pants, farmers take on the yoke of Eternal Ordination unlike any the Church could ever know, for they are called and equipped for the highest of service in the feeding of God's children and the care of God's creation. No priestly stole is necessary, for the simple folded hands of a farmer in prayer are sign and seal to all who would observe that these are a special people in the sight of the One who sets them apart for service.

I have no doubt in these driest of days, God hears the voice of the farmers and will tend to their cries. There is a balm in Gilead and we, who so depend upon the faithfulness and labors of farmers, would do well to pray for them and with them in equal measure. The Service of Word and Sacrament begun in the Spring moves steadily towards the Benediction of Winter's lingering response. God bless us, everyone, in this life of worship, but especially the farmer, God's truly chosen and appointed servant.

Storm Cabbage

Two days ago, Nancy took a head of cabbage to my Dad's home and another to my brother's home, a 'sharing of the gifts', if you will. The heads of cabbage are nearly as big as bowling balls and are as sweet and thick as cabbages could hope to be, (said as modestly as a gardener might) some of the best we have ever raised and . . .

These heads of cabbage were the 'storm cabbages'. They were ravaged by the intense hail storm we had some weeks back and I was ready to pull them out and start over, so complete their 'destruction'. God's creation is simply remarkable in its capacity to regenerate and begin anew and we, you and I, are constantly invited to be witnesses to such a profound truth expressed in such organic a manner.

Which got me to thinking about the ways we threaten and coerce each other, not just globally, but also locally and even personally. Do we really believe that we hold such power over others and creation? Do we really believe that we are the 'master' of our fate and control the fate of others? Do we really believe that ours is the final voice that matters? Do we really believe that we can rain down the power of hail - or of bombs - or of legislation - or of special interests - or of political correctness - or of abusive relationships - or of isolationist self-interest, covering the ground, filling the sky, polluting the air . . . and our Creator God won't have the final word about the outcome?

The cabbage tastes good. Our 'storm cauliflower' was delicious. Our 'storm banana peppers' are incredible and our 'storm tomatoes' are not far away.

Perhaps we would be well served to study the world around us and ponder our place in the universe in considering our relationship with each other. We are not as big as we think, neither are we as determinant as we believe. If plants like cabbage, cauliflower, peppers and tomatoes can arise from their grave of hail and produce abundantly, what else might God be capable of despite us?

Just when we think we are at the top of the food chain . . . we find God already is. I love it . . . and pray you do, too.

Jesus Laughing

Humor is a gift of God and it is often the only thing that gets me through the tough stuff. I'm not talking about the profanity laced bits that fill our airwaves, burning our ears and searing our souls, no, I'm talking about the kinds of things that made true comedians like Bill Cosby and Jeff Foxworthy icons in our age. Everyday happenings, mixed in equal portions with irony, with a sprinkling of the 'wink of an eye', and you have the recipe for the kind of thing that will make me guffaw and nose snort for hours on end. Humor is a gift of God.

Jesus used it all the time. Remember when he was being tested about paying taxes and His reply was, "Bring me a denarius and let me see it.", then said to them, "Whose head is this, and whose title?" They responded, "The emperor's." Jesus responds (with a wink and nod, I think), "Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's." Now that's great humor based on irony! Or the question raised with Him about the woman who married seven brothers, each after the one before them died, and having no children by any of them? They wanted to know whose wife she would be in the resurrection. Jesus' response left the crowds chuckling because they (and we?) assume heavenly orders are just like earthly experiences. (God, I hope not!) (Check it out in Mark 12:24-27) Or the time when the disciples left Jesus praying on one side of the lake and took off in a boat to the other side of the lake . . . and He came walking over the water to meet them? They were frightened and Jesus must have been giggling . . . they just didn't get it. (The movie, "Bruce Almighty", used this scene very effectively.)

Humor. Doesn't it make you wonder what God thinks about how seriously we take ourselves with all of our politically correct language and culturally correct clothing, while not giving two hoots about feeding the poor and clothing the naked and giving a drink to the thirsty and welcoming the stranger and sharing good news with the imprisoned?

In my office, on the wall directly in front of me, is a picture of Jesus Laughing. I see it every day and it reminds me that I am not always as right as I think I am, I'm not as pure as I want to be, I'm not as kind as I should be, and I'm not as certain as I put on, yet, in the midst of it all, it is God's grace which saves me, Christ's love which encompasses me, and the Spirit's Presence which guides me. God is the constant upon which my life should be built, not my self-assured arrogance. Jesus Laughs . . . and so should we. (I wonder how this would play in Rome?)

Maybe if we could learn to laugh a bit more at ourselves and trust the good-natured laughter of God, we could see the other more as friend and less as adversary - and, in so living, would point our lives to the One who is the Saving Joy for all to share.

Laugh with Jesus a bit today and see if it doesn't make a difference.

Moving On

It's time for my annual physical. Actually, it is past time, but why do today what can be put off till tomorrow? (Especially when what has to be done includes the drawing of blood!)

So, there I was at 7:00 this morning in the lab of the hospital with this really nice lady looking down her nose at my blood draw order muttering out loud, "Well, you put this off as long as you could." What did she want me to say? Something like, 'Well, you know, I am a man' or 'I would have put it off longer had I known how put out you would be' or even, 'Had it not been for my doctor requiring it, I would have waited for the mortician to handle it'? But, no, Christian that I am and guilty as charged, I simply relied on the obvious, "Have you been talking with my wife? Because she said the same thing to me just the other day.", which brought a smile to her face and prompted her to say, "When it comes to dealing with men, we women all work from the same handbook . . . . and you will never get a copy of it!" Great retort, ice broken, tension defused, guilt assuaged, and nerves relaxed.

I really do not like having blood drawn and, I think, with good reason: Several years ago, while giving blood at a Red Cross event, the nurse tending to me groused a bit about how slowly I was pumping blood into the bag so, to increase the rate of flow, she adjusted the needle in my arm, not once, not twice, but three times. After the last time, I asked her to take the needle out of my arm, moved to the snack table and promptly passed out. Do you have any idea how much chewing gum is stuck to the bottom side of most serving tables? A lot! And that was the first thing which registered in my mind as I came to.

The nurse was really nice about it at this point. Not wanting to have any culpability in what had just transpired, she suggested that maybe I would be better served at the next blood drive to make sandwiches instead of give blood. Thus, my dilemma with any kind of a blood draw . . . I immediately go to the refrigerator for solace to calm my mounting nerves, wanting to prepare a sandwich rather than contemplate researching the amount of chewing gum on the bottom of tables. Is it any wonder that I wait as long as I can to have a physical?

Ah, but isn't this what we do to God all the time? God offers us peace in relationship, extends healing in our broken living, redeems life from death, and all that we can think about is the hurt we experienced one time or another at the hands of one of God's 'helpers'. We allow a bad experience in one worship setting to become the excuse for not becoming a part of any worship family. In harboring resentment towards another person, our spiritual well-being and our relationship with God falls victim to neglect. And the biggest loser? Ourselves, for we have abdicated responsibility for our life, our health and our love in God to the hands of another, which is way too sad.

Those who really know me and know my story lovingly cajole me about being a woosie when it comes to giving blood. Maybe they are right. All that I know is that, if I stop and think about it, I can still remember the feeling of that needle being moved around in my arm and the subsequent aftermath. I can still remember . . . .

The lady who drew my blood today was a pro. I never felt a thing, not even a sting. Perhaps it's time to start forming new memories and stop allowing the past to hold me and my health hostage. Perhaps it's time to live the present moment with the confidence of one not bound by the behaviors of others. How about you?

It's Sunday

It's Sunday.


"I don't want to go to church. I don't have to go to church. You can't make me go to church. I have better things to do than go to church."

"Dad, what do you mean, 'Am I a Christian?' Of course, I'm a Christian! I've been baptized, I've made First Communion, I've been Confirmed, and whenever something happens in our family I know that the church is the first place I can go. But, that doesn't mean I have to go to church on Sunday. After all, sitting in a church no more makes me a Christian than sitting in a garage makes me a car."

"Mom, yes, even I take really good care of my car. In fact, that's one of the things I want to do today: I'm going to wax my car. If I go to church, I won't have time to wax my car. And, yes, I do regularly change the oil, make sure the coolant is right and check the transmission fluid, all because I don't want my car to break down. But, how will I get that done if I spend all my Sunday mornings in church?

"No, my car doesn't mean more to me than my life. I just want to take care of it. I just want to make sure all my friends know that what matters to me has my attention. I just want to make sure my investment lasts . . . . . ."

. . . .which is precisely why God invited you to worship today: to make sure God's investment in you lasts.

It's Sunday.

Which is worth more? Your car or your life?

Pray to see you in church . . . to wipe away the dullness of broken living, to top off the essential fluids of God's Word to guide you in your days, and to fill you with the Sacraments to strengthen your daily journey. Make sure God's investment in you lasts.

It's Sunday. Where will God find you today?

Atheists and Gardens

A friend of mine poses the question, "Can you be a gardener and an atheist at the same time?" This question arose out of, both, her obvious enjoyment of gardening and her sense of connectedness to a Creator God.

As I pondered her question, the thought occurred to me that, "Yes, you can be a gardener and an atheist at the same time." Here's why: An atheist believes there is no God. Yet, what atheist's don't understand is that God doesn't deny their existence. That is called, 'free will'. The atheist has free will not to believe in God and God has free will to know and love the atheist anyway . . . which must just burn the atheist's butt on a regular basis!

God didn't send Jesus to save the faithful, the healthy don't need the physician. God sent Jesus (and those who subsequently follow Him and bear His name) to live in faithfulness in the midst of a world that doesn't know or love God. The atheist plants his/her garden, the rains water it, it grows and produces abundantly, and the atheist thinks, "I am god. Look what I've done." God sees the planting, observes the labors of one of God's children, sends the rain in due time, the plants thrive, the garden is harvested, and, even as there is no acknowledgment of God's part in all this, God smiles when God's children are fed, regardless of what the children believe or think. God knows who is God and can only act as God. God is not dependent upon our recognition or approval that God is God, even when we deny God in the garden. Oddly enough, isn't that where Judas betrayed Jesus and Jesus' disciples denied Him as they ran away? In the Garden of Gethsemane?

We are who we are and we believe what we believe, even when in the garden, but, God is always God . . . . and it rains on the just and unjust alike precisely because God is God. Atheist's may garden and atheist's may deny the existence of God . . . but thank God that God never denies either us or our gardens! For if we were cared for by God only on the basis of our faith, how hungry would our world be?

The real shame of the atheist gardener? They will never see or understand true Love that claims them fully, always, even in the garden of their discontent . . . . which doesn't make those who have faith in God 'better', it just makes God's choice to be steadfast in love more dynamic and profound. The atheist's loss, the believer's gain, God's ongoing grace . . . all revealed in a question about a garden.

Have a blessed day in the garden of God's goodness to you!

Life Happens

Life happens.

Let me explain: I firmly believe that each of us is a gift of God, whose final sum journey is inconceivable to consider from its beginning. Yet, it is in the course of those days which we name as 'life', that we encounter the life journey of others and from those encounters, some chance, some intended, we experience that which 'happens'.

Life happens.

Birth happens, growth happens, language happens, family relationships happen, community relationships happen, education happens, world events happen, economic events happen, and intimate relationships happen. On a more focused scale, love happens, anger happens, prejudice happens, hatred happens, division happens, unity happens, connectedness happens, teamwork happens, vision happens, dreams happen, and completeness happens. And, in the midst of all that happens in life are the accidents, the stumbles, the inadvertent words, the pain in the patooties, the recalcitrant children, the unheeding parents, the nosey neighbors, and the effects of all sorts of ongoing wars, both global and local.

Life happens.

Which is exactly where God meets us in Jesus Christ . . . where life happens. There is nothing inside or outside of your life beyond the presence of God. As life happens to you, God is with you in the happenings. God does not inflict you or test you or see how much of life's happenings you can stand . . . that is not the God we come to know in Jesus. God is with you in your leprosy, in your challenge, in your oppression, in your hope to lead, in your fall from grace, in your standing up and in lying down, in your betrayal, in your trial, and in your crucifixion. God is with you as life happens because, from the very beginning of time, God has wanted nothing more than to share the happenings of life with you - and when that happens, Life Really Happens. The tomb is empty. Death is defeated. All that this world can cause in your life to happen gives way to what God Happens.

Life happens. Have faith in the midst of it all, for the fullness of joy this world cannot see or know awaits those who dare to trust that God Happens Always. That is the Kingdom, that is Eternity, that is the truest of Love. God Happens Always. Always has. Always is. Always will be.

Allow your life to happen in God today.