At Home

It is Saturday, the day after Christmas 2015, and it is raining, dreary and grey.

So it is that I am at home . . . in my Church Office, preparing for tomorrow's worship services - and I am grateful to be here. Truth be told, I am glad to be so at home in the worship and fellowship facilities of St. Paul UCC, Lebanon . . . I'm feeling the need to be at home in God today.

Earlier in the day I drove to the hospital and spoke with a person who is really struggling with illness and a chronic debilitating condition. Throughout this day my heart has been in constant prayer for friends who are deep in the journey of grief and healing. A few moments ago, I received word from another that a diagnosis had just been received in their life and it was not what they were hoping to hear. For such as these the Gift of Bethlehem comes.

I would invite you to continue the Christmas festivities and gather with me in the pleasure and need of talking with God concerning the world in which we live and our sisters and brothers who are longing for understandable, believable, Spirit-filled answers . . . Will you join me?

Will you join me in Christmas Grace by being gracious to others?

Will you join me in Christmas Joy by sharing joy with others?

Will you join me in Christmas Abundance by giving of yourself for others?

Will you join me in Christmas Healing by sitting with and caring for others?

Will you join me in Christmas Comfort by gathering the uncomfortable into you and your home?

Will you join me in Christmas Love by seeing in others that for which you pray God sees in you?

Will you join me in Christmas Rejoicing by welcoming the opportunity to tell the Story?

Will you join me in Christmas . . . in the Home of God's own heart by praying for others as Christ does for you?

Will you join me in God's Home . . . in the sacred space of family gathered, in community shared, in the quiet of prayer and the raucous wonder of hymns?

Will you join me in God's Home in this day . . . just for the sheer gift of being present with the One who, in Jesus, is Present for you?

The Gospel text for services tomorrow is the story of the 12 year old Jesus lingering in the Temple and saying to his parents, who had thought they had lost him, "Didn't you know that it was necessary for me to be in my Father's house?" 

As it is for Jesus, may it be so for us all. Come, be at Home in God wherever you are, for God has come to be at home, through Jesus, in you.

Blessings in this Christmas Season!

Wrinkled Wrapping Paper Christmas

Mom tried always to use new wrapping paper for our Christmas gifts. I know because I saw the tubes and neatly packaged stacks of it in the closet where she hid them for her elf-like work when we were out the house. It was also in that closet that Mom kept her favorite sharp scissors, tape, bows, bow making ribbon and . . . the occasional gift, though I won't tell you how I came to know that. That story is its' own sweet memory for telling at another time.

Yet, this day, I am remembering the wrinkled wrapping paper which occasionally surrounded Mom's gifts to us kids. I am holding one of those gifts in the hands of my memory even as these words are being written, turning it from side to side, admiring how Mom's careful eye made every corner seem as new, every former tape mark disappear and every crease seem as a part of the design. No, Mom never ever just slapped paper on a box or a gift the way I am often wont to do, she chose carefully the paper, just as she had chosen the gift. Nothing accidental or happenstance here, especially when she used the wrinkled wrapping paper . . . for it was the wrinkles themselves which told you how much Mom was thinking of you. Let me explain . . .

First, Mom never threw anything away. Mom was a child of the Great Depression, the youngest of four children born to her parents three years before the Stock Market crash of 1929. In her eyes, everything was usable, reusable and usable again . . . and again, until it was no longer usable at all. People today know little of such a mindset.

Second, Mom never wanted her children to have to 'make do' the way she did, but she also didn't want us to grow up not appreciating everything we had. Whether what we were given was new, hand-me-down, grown-into or from somewhere else, we always knew from the look in Mom's eye to the way she wrapped our packages for birthdays, Christmas, Easter or whatever other occasion, Mom had made a very intentional decision about the gift and us. What was given and the way it was wrapped was always from Mom's heart to ours.

Lastly, in my mind, some of the most precious gifts I could ever receive were the ones wrapped in wrinkled paper, for the wrinkled paper gifts told me Mom had chosen to reuse some wrapping paper because, whatever the design or appearance, she thought it the best for the gift I was being given. Simply put, the wrinkled paper gifts took more of Mom's love to select, more of Mom's time to wrap, and more of Mom in every fold and tuck. Mom didn't just 'make it work' for the gift, she made it holy in her care. Even today, I miss the wrinkled paper gifts my Mom used to wrap for me . . . Oh, I still occasionally receive wrinkled paper gifts and even a few comic page gifts, but now it is mostly because that was what was handy or cute, rather than chosen just for me. I can tell the difference - and so can you.

Maybe that is the reason God chose to send God's dearest Gift of Love as a Baby . . . wrinkled, wrapped just right and carefully placed where all might come to know Him. Were Jesus just to 'appear' all smooth, starched, new paper, new tape and new ribbon, most folk probably wouldn't have given Him a moment of their time thinking Him unapproachable, too good for them or even beyond their understanding, No, instead of all that fanciness, God chose to come as a Baby with the wrinkled skin of an Infant, the crumpled Grace of new life placed in a manger, wrapped with the carefully swaddled cloths of Mercy, attended to by the Hand-smoothed folds and corners of Hope, all held together with the tenderness and strength of Angel's songs and Shepherds stories, then topped with the bow of Wise Men's gifts. God so loves you, so sees the Good in you, so believes in God's own vision for you that God takes the time to use what everyone else might regard as 'the least desirable', the wrinkled, to wrap the newest and best of Gifts in Life . . . for all people.

Today I am remembering the wrinkled wrapping paper which occasionally surrounded Mom's gifts to us kids . . . and am thanking God for a Mom who loved us so deeply that her life, her choices, even the manner in which she wrapped her gifts all pointed us to Jesus . . . and I am praying you a wrinkled wrapping paper Christmas, too.

Blessings on the Advent journey!  

The Christmas in You and Me

Nearing the 39th Christmas in our marriage, our 46th since first we started going 'steady', what most I want for Christmas is the Christmas in you,Nancy Wagner . . . and what most I want to give you is the Christmas which is in me.
I believe the purest Gift of Christmas is Love, born anew each day in Jesus. If we cannot yearn for it, pray for it, even wish for it in others, especially those nearest and dearest to us, how then can we ever hope to yearn, pray or wish for it in others whom we do not know? How then will the world come to know Christmas if we do not long and live for the Christmas in each other?
Perhaps if we in the church spent less time working to make others become Christian and devoted more of ourselves to living the Christmas in our soul, the Love of God who meets us in Jesus . . . . perhaps, just perhaps, more than a few would see the Light of the Star and journey towards Him.
So, when I say, " . . . what most I want for Christmas is the Christmas in you . . .', I am saying to the love of my life what I long for in everyone . . . and I long to give no less than that of myself to you. It is the greatest gift, for first the Gift comes from God: Love.
Blessings on the Advent journey.

Time to Rethink Christmas

Dare we re-think Christmas? Could it be that the 'Christian understanding' of why God comes to us in Jesus might be flawed? Might a different perspective on the birthing of the Christ help us move in a more positive direction in our care for ourselves and one another?

Such are the questions which have been mulling about in my mind this afternoon. I had just heard the details of the untimely death of a young lady who had been a student of mine when I was Student Teaching back in the early 1980's and that, coupled with ongoing prayers and concerns for the folks in San Bernardino, Paris and Syria . . . and Ferguson, Chicago, Charleston . . . well, suffice it to say, I have been thinking more about the 'why' Jesus comes, than the 'how' Jesus comes. Christmas has to be about more than a star shining in a clear sky over a stable in Bethlehem . . . or Santa is just a generous guy who shows up once a year and takes lots of credit the other 364 days he is hanging around waiting for his big night. The 'why' is critical.

For most of my life, including my professional life as a minister, the language in which I was steeped and by extension have used throughout my ministry is that, 'For a broken, wounded and oppressed world, God sent Jesus that we might find healing, know wholeness and be set free to serve God.' Nearly without fail, I have spoken those words around this time each year, praying they would give some sort of comfort in times of crisis for those most in need, some sort of restoration in peace for those longing for a new day, and some sort of wholeness for those struggling with fragmented living in a missing-puzzle-piece world. 

Then, today, it occurred to me that a functioning theology which requires everything being 'broken' before God is finally driven to act and send the Son is essentially a theology of imperfection with an ongoing expectation of lack and wont. Isn't that the very rationale that expects ISIS to attack, the Middle East to be in eternal conflict, that Republicans and Democrats will never get along, that Russia and the United States must be mortal enemies and Ozzie and Harriet could never really exist in real life? Where, in such an understanding, is the God who looks over creation at the beginning of time and reflects, 'Good'?

What would happen if we look again at the arrival of Jesus, however it is that you want to tell the story of how the Christ-Child arrives, but this time, instead of looking at the 'broken' people around Jesus and focusing on their brokenness as they come to the manger, now see the person needing a walker to move toward the stable as 'Good', just as she is . . . and the beaten spouse as 'Good', just as he is . . . and the soldier as 'Good', just as she is . . . and the man caught in adultery as 'Good', just as he is . . . and the woman with the breast cancer diagnosis as 'Good', just as she is . . . and the shepherds as 'Good', just as they are . . . and the politicians as 'Good', just as they are . . . and the combatants in the Middle East as 'Good', just as they are . . . ? What would happen if we look at the birth scene through the eyes of God, instead of only seeing the ones who are streaming their need towards the 'Deliverer'? What would it mean, if it were even imaginable, that God comes to us in Jesus with a priority for the 'Good' in all of us? That the purpose of the birth of Jesus wasn't so much to 'fix' our problems, but to allow our eyes to see the 'Good' which God sees in us as the very reason God would invest so much of God-self in all of us? What happens to our theology, to Christmas, even to Easter, if we stop for a moment and ponder Christ on the cross for the 'Good' in God's creation, rather than that His blood is only for covering over the evil in our hearts? What would it mean if the celebration of the birth of Jesus were about lifting up the 'Good' which God has envisioned in humanity from the very beginning of time - and now is coming, Face-to-face to underscore what such 'Good' means to God?

Isn't it easier to forgive the one who is 'Good' in your heart, rather than the one who is the dickens? Isn't it easier to live and die for those who, to you, are 'Good' for your soul as family, friends and neighbors, rather than for the stranger whose name you do not know? Isn't there more to be redeemed in the life of one you perceive as essentially 'Good', over the one whom you regard as lost? And if it such things are so with us, how much more with God?

Christmas, the celebration of the birthing of the Son of God into our world, if seen through the eyes of God, rather than through our own visually-impaired souls, is about the 'Good' in God's creation., the 'Good' in you, the 'Good in me. Were that not true, why would God ever dare to say from the very beginning, 'Good'? 

Imagine for a moment the birth narrative scene of the Babe lying in a manger, looking up with those Divine eyes at His parents, the Shepherds and the animals . . . with the angelic song resounding with 'Good'! The One who comes does so for the 'Good' in all creation, including the powerful and rich, the powerless and poor, the ones with tremendous abilities and those who struggle to tie their shoes, the blue collar worker and the white collar executive, the Amish and the Catholic, the Muslim and the Jew, the Christian and the Buddhist, the one who is conceal/carry and the one who would never pull a trigger, the Christian fundamentalist and the Islamic extremist . . . No matter who you are on life's journey, God sees the essential 'Good' in you and comes, in Jesus, to empower the Good . . . over evil, poor choices, lack of discipline, arrogance, anger, hatred, animosity, injustice, inequity, intolerance, poor health, broken bodies, fragile spirits and utter self-loathing. Still, God sees the 'Good' in you and comes to you that you might live fully the 'Good' in your soul. 

What would happen if 'Good' were the basis of Christmas, instead of 'under-repair'?

If we come to accept that God sees us, first and foremost, as 'Good', how much more inclined would we be to see each other as 'Good', first and foremost? And, how would that change the stakes of the political, religious and economic games we are playing at the cost of so many lives around the world? If we can no longer give precedence to being 'sinful' and 'broken' and 'in need of redemption' as the reasons for which Jesus comes - no longer using those images to enslave and punish others because of their imperfections before God, could we become more accepting of differences, more caring for the disadvantaged and more tolerant of the manner in which God expresses and exposes 'Good' in others?

'Good' . . . it's not just for the Genesis story anymore.

In the new Beginning God says, 'Good', again, and does so in tones we can hear as 'Jesus'. 'Good'.

Have you ever wondered why He comes? Jesus comes for the 'Good' in you - and everyone. Live like it. Hopefully, such a faith will make it harder on us all to pull a trigger, detonate a bomb or fire missiles at each other, sacrificing the 'Good' in ourselves in destroying the 'Good' in you.
Maybe it is time to rethink Christmas. 'Good'.

Something to think about on the Advent journey to Bethlehem.

  

Live the Hope - Embody the Joy

"Run, Hide, Fight"

      is what society is reduced to

     when, as a culture, we don't

     live justly, equitable and responsibly

     one-with-the-other.

When you believe you can crucify the Christ

     and you shut Christ in a tomb

     with your privilege, arrogance, and entitlement,

     the Gospel becomes muted and distant

     and others become angry, even ready to lash out.

Blessedly, God is not distant,

     nor will God be muted.

The Son comes to Bethlehem

     and the tomb is empty in Jerusalem.

Stand up with Him and live in faith with others

     as you are birthed to do.

This is not an issue of guns,

     but a lack of value for the Life God intends,

     a break down of cultural and corporate responsibility,

     one-for-the-other.

Live the Hope.

Embody the Joy.

     Lest all you are left with in life is

     "Run, Hide, Fight".

The Bethlehem Star (Shines Only Over the Christian Privileged?)

I saw it again last evening as I drove home. Just North of St. Libory on Route 4, on the South side of the road, a Bethlehem Star shines brightly in the night, each night, announcing the place where Jesus lay (in the hearts of those who welcome Him). How appropriate. It is the Kramper Dairy Farm - and the Star stands high and bright . . . upon the top of their blue Harvestore silo overlooking the large stable of lowing Holsteins below. This singular sacred sight quiets me at the end of a long day.

God is with us, Emmanuel.

God is with us in San Bernardino . . . and in the Siteman Cancer Center . . . in the imprisonments of our body and soul . . . in the shame of being abused by one you love . . . in the wonder of birthing new life . . . in the exultation of doing work you enjoy . . . in the struggle of doing a job you hate . . . in the in-between times of having no work at all . . . in the ongoing construction of our daily lives . . . in the politics and politicians with which we struggle . . . in the animosity of competing religions . . . in the community of sisters and brothers of God . . . in the beauty of a family gathered together around an evening supper table . . . in the loneliness of a singular existence shared with no one else in particular . . . in the messiness of our cow lot existence . . . and in the warmth and safety of His stable birthplace. God is with us, Emmanuel.

Just look at the star shining there along the road . . . which, oddly enough, I am most likely to see and savor when I approach from the East. Hmmmmm, that seems somehow Biblical . . .

I had just been listening to the ongoing reports from the San Bernardino shootings when, turning on the curve of Route 4, and continuing westward towards the Star, the reporter said something which, for the first time, really caught my attention. She said, "The shooters were Muslim." I don't know the reporters name, but I know she wasn't the first one to have said it, nor was it the first time I had heard this particular bit of news, yet hearing it said in just the manner she said it, I wondered, "So, when was it that we began to identify aggressors, terrorists and killers by their religion?"

I thought about it for a while and I think, in my my memory anyway, we probably have to go back to the events in the United States of September 11, 2001. Reporter after reporter, news copy after news copy, politician after politician, average citizen after average citizen was likely to have been found in those days saying something like, 'The terrorists who flew the planes were Muslim' and, ever since, the language has stuck. I wonder why?

Does the Bethlehem Star over the Kramper Dairy Farm, the Light announcing the imminent arrival of Emmanuel, shine only for or over Christians? Is God keeping track of what people are members of what faith tradition as we abuse, terrorize, make war, starve and marginalize others?

Why did the papers not say of the gang member in Chicago who shot the little boy that he was Christian? (I don't know that he was or wasn't.) Why do the newscasts not say of the man who killed so many in the Planned Parenthood Clinic in Colorado Springs that he was Christian? What of the police officer in Chicago? Or Ferguson? Or the shooter in Charleston (who was in a church, after all!)? Why do we not require to know the faith of every perpetrator of every crime? Could it be that Christians are just as inclined to violence as Muslims or Jews? Are we to assume that every crime, if it was not exclusively reported that the aggressor was Muslim, was committed by a Christian? Or Jew? Or Buddhist? Or (your religion du jour)?

As aligned with the current hot topic of 'white privilege', could it be that what is emerging here in this age is 'Christian privilege'? (We won't say anything about your faith background . . . unless you aren't one of 'us', the 'in crowd'.)

I suspect the Star of Bethlehem shining in the ever darkening skies of the nearing Winter of our existence shines there for all and in all. In Emmanuel, God With Us, God isn't calling us to be Christian, God calls us to be faithful, mindful that all people are God's people. Were God to keep 'score' of our religious tradition in relation to our sinfulness, how deeply mired and mucky would the Christian tradition really be? Hmmmmm. 'Christian privilege' . . . the new, yet ancient, way to make the other among us 'the enemy', each according to their faith. Hmmmmm.

There it is shining along the South side of Route 4, just North of St. Libory, the Bethlehem Star. It glimmers and glistens with the soft light of Hope and Love made flesh, Emmanuel, God With Us. God, be with us all in Peace. Please! Oh, and God? Thank you for the using the Kramper's silo to post your Star that we might all see. Help us to see with our hearts what You already know in your Soul and, there, be willing to lay down our assumed privilege that others might find You, too. Amen.

Solo Voices and Players

Our oldest granddaughter, Mary Cailin, sang a solo last evening in the Red Bud Middle School Christmas Concert. Well, it was not exactly a solo . . . Mary was one of approximately 150 students who sang together as a chorus, yet hers was the only voice her Papa heard. In my mind, all others joined in supporting her angelic singing, in harmonizing with her clarity and in expanding the fullness of her rejoicing. It was truly an incredible event organized exclusively for Mary that she might share with the world her operatic skills - and share with the world she did! "Bells of Christmas", "Jingle Bell Rock", "Let It Snow" and "Somewhere in My Memory" were never sung as pure, light and tonally clear as Mary sang them last evening . . . and "Silent Night" simply reduced me to tears as Mary's telling of the story brought the birth of our Savior into the home of my heart. 

Then, were that not enough, Mary Cailin, played a saxophone solo (albeit with the rest of the Junior High Band) that would have made Kenny G or John Coltrane blush with envy. She later told me that she missed one note, but I never heard it. All this Papa heard was her unencumbered joy of music being celebrated before hundreds of her adoring fans. The applause was thunderous, the adoration overwhelming and the lingering of well-wishers long but, what can one so talented do other than acknowledge those who see the gifts of God in her?

Later, after the throngs had dispersed, Mary, her Dad, Matt, and her Nana entered the local eatery where I had gone ahead to reserve a table for the emerging diva and her family at the end of an exhausting evening of performances. As Mary entered the room she opened her arms to her Papa and said, "Thank you for coming! I love you!" . . . and the world stopped spinning for a moment. There are no other words a Papa would rather hear from his granddaughter and, already so proud of her for her accomplishments, now his love for her, his willingness to do anything for her, and his incredible humility in even being recognized by her (in public!) deepens the connection they forging in love far beyond human expression. It is pure Joy. Pure Joy.

'Ask for the world and it is yours', I thought. 'Direct me to slay a dragon for you and it will be done', I mused. 'I will forever be the one who protects you from those who would hurt you', I promised . . . all said in my mind, not out loud, yet none the less true.
"Thank you for coming! I love you!" are the words my oldest granddaughter spoke in my ear last night and, from the depths of her being, I knew she meant every word. Not only can this girl sing and play the saxophone, she knows I would go to the ends of the earth for her . . . and she appreciates it! "God", I thought, "I am so blessed . . .and humbled . . . and grateful for such a gift. Thank you."

Later, as I drove home in my pickup truck, it was my last thought with her that kept coming to the foreground of my mulling along the miles of the journey. "God, I am so blessed . . . and humbled . . . and grateful for such a gift. Thank you." And, if such raw emotion can fill the soul of this Papa as he shares a moment with his granddaughter, how much more is it for You, God, The Papa, as You share each moment with us?

Are each of us 'soloists' in the choir and band? Do You look at me as I looked at our granddaughter and, though You see all the other mouths moving, hear only me? When I play my instrument in Your band, will mine be the instrument You hear above all the others? When I whisper in your ear, "Thank You for coming! I love You!", does your heart melt the way mine did?

Is that what You were trying to say when your angels sang over a stable in Bethlehem? When the heavenly orchestra lifted Your praise into all creation at the birth of Your Son? On each step of His journey, were You gathering us into your arms and reminding us just how much we mean to You? How far You will travel to sit, even in the middle of a crowd, and hear only us? Could it be that, in the moment we rejected your Gift, You still waited at the Table for us to return that, in the emptiness of the Tomb, we would enter Your continual embrace and be moved to say, "Thank you for coming! I love You!"? Do You weep as I wept when "Silent Night" is sung and the story of the birth of our Savior comes home anew into Your heart? And the questions kept coming . . . .

If it is so with we who are human, how much more are such things true for the One who creates us?

Our oldest granddaughter, Mary Cailin, sang and played solos last evening . . . or so it seemed for her Papa . . . and on his way home The Papa reminded him that it no less for any of us in The Papa's heart. Thank you, Papa, for Coming! Thank you, Papa, for Listening when I whisper in Your ear that song I would only have You hear! I love You, Papa! I love You always!

It Never Ceases to Amaze

It never ceases to amaze . . .
The time we give to celebrating a holiday,
While limiting the Child to the margins of our minutes;
The generosity we pour into cash registers,
And the poverty we display at the Stable;
The miles we will travel to see lights that fail,
And the Light which continues to shine in our darkness of soul.
Thanks be to God
Whose Gift of Love
Comes for the least among us
In spite of us. DCW

Thinking of Advent

“Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”
Matthew 25.13 NRSV
As a child, I never thought it odd that Santa Claus came to our home on Christmas Eve while we were attending services at church. The Wagner Farm in rural Southern Illinois, just like all the other homes around us (I was sure), was early on Santa’s route. With all the flying around the earth that Santa had to do and with all of the homes into which he had to take gifts, I was just glad that we were early on his schedule and not late: I just couldn’t imagine what it would be like to wake up with no gifts under the tree, waiting to see when and if Santa would show up! Santa’s ‘early’ arrival at the Wagner home was a blessing for which I have always been grateful, because it saved me having to grow up as an anxious child. I know it is hard to believe, yet, there it is: Some semblance of sanity is granted for a lifetime when the things for which you so wait and long for to happen as a child arrive early and, thereby, shape your adulthood.
These days, Santa arrives at the Wagner home on Christmas morning. His route changed, I suppose. Yet, I am not anxious about being later on the schedule, nor I am worried that he will have the things I am wishing for on his sleigh: I know that he knows me and will not forget me, whenever he arrives.
The season of Advent has become, over the years, a time that I truly cherish, a journey I anticipate walking as we move towards Bethlehem and Christmas Joy. Much in the same way I would pour over catalogs as a child and carefully choose the items I really wanted to see under the tree delivered by the hands of Santa, now I savor the days that mark our preparation to receive the most loving Gift no-one on earth could ever have imagined. Now the days, which once seemed to drag on and on and on before Christmas Eve laughter would fill the air, seem simply to flit by, like a butterfly on the wings of a Fall breeze, coursing its way over the stalks of standing corn through which I move. Now the days fairly run into each other with increasing speed, event blending into event, night quickly following day, week rapidly engulfing week until, much too soon, that for which we were waiting is a diminishing image in the rearview mirror of another Church Year.
So, this year (like many before) I vow to slow down during Advent, this season I love. I pray to be awake as the Gift arrives, not dozing in my easy-chair worn out by ‘events’.
The need for humanity to be in control of all things is what led the early Christian Church to ‘designate’ a day on which Christ was born, that similarly minded people might gather on a singular day to observe and praise God’s Holy Name for such a Wondrous Thought. A good thing, perhaps, yet, a horrible limitation to our spiritual journey: Instead of living towards a Gift, we live towards a day, often herded like cattle towards market by cowboys with visions of profits dancing in their heads. By limiting God’s Gift of Life to arrival on a specific day, we narrow the field of focus and lessen our responsibility to always be attentive. Jesus tells His disciples, “Keep awake . . . you know neither the day nor the hour.” Important words spoken to children lounging on the couch near the fireplace waiting for Santa to arrive, certain as to how and when ‘it’ will happen.
This year I vow to slow down during Advent, the season of blue, the color of the night sky. I’m not sure when He will happen, I just know He will, so I will slow down and stay awake, ready to receive the Gift. I know that He knows me and will not forget me, whenever He arrives.

Have a blessed Advent and a Joyous Christmas!

God's Bailout

Another bailout has been announced this morning, this of the automobile manufacturer's. Like the bailout of the banks before them, this bailout has been given the spin of a 'loan' - with multitudes of strings attached. Yet, with or without strings, this is a loan that will be paid by my tax dollars and yours, by those of our grandchildren, and their grandchildren after them. Bailing out unwise business practices is not cheap - and should make us all stop and count the cost that we not participate in such practices ever again.

Maybe that is why the birth of Jesus is so very much different . . . and so very ironic in the face of such bailouts: Jesus represents God's own bailout of sinful humanity, yet, the only one paying the cost is God - as the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. God is paying the price for our stupidity and arrogance. God is naming the value of our lives in sacrifice and grace. God is facing our creditors and paying the full cost. God, in the person of Jesus Christ and in the presence of the Holy Spirit, God pours out God's own love and abundance that we might be free. No strings attached.

What a difference between God and the government. Our dollar bills say, "In God we trust", but it is the dollar bill we want, the money we worship, the power we crave. God says, "I love you and will never leave you" and that is exactly what God does. God comes to us in Christ and is present for us forever in the Holy Spirit - allowing us freely to choose to accept this gift of life. Again, no strings attached - AND, every generation which follows is offered the same gift, with God paying the cost.

All God asks is that we share the gift, not pay the cost. Tend to each other, not hang on the cross. Serve each other, not face the crowds. Jesus stands before every Congressional subcommittee and testifies on our behalf: Father forgive them, for they know not what they do. How much more proof will we demand before we quit requiring someone else to bail us out of our poor decisions and accept our responsiblity of relationship with God as a gift from which to really live?

It is a question which demands our pondering in the face of Child born in Bethlehem. It is a question which demands an answer of our soul before we accept another dollar of bailout money at the expense of children and grandchildren.

Thank you, God, for the bailing our lives out of the abyss of our sins. Thank you, God, for the gift of Christ-Child.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

A Book You Must Read

In the cold of a day marked by ice and flying snow, the love of God in Jesus Christ fills me in a whole new way.

Yesterday afternoon I purchased a copy of the book, The Shack, by Wm. Young - and finished reading it this morning. I cannot recall a book, a story, a truth, which so captured both my attention and my soul. Already this morning e-mails have been sent to scores of colleagues encouraging them to treat themselves now, in the waning days of Advent, to the heart-warming, faith-filling challenges found within the pages of this fantastic story. Bold enough to deepen the meaning of Christmas, The Shack is a provocative experience which bridges human experience and Divine Presence in such a manner as to lead the reader into the fullness of holy ground.

Remove your shoes and listen. Open your heart and hear. That still small Voice is speaking anew in a manner the humblest among us may understand: God loves you.

This is my Christmas gift to you: The Shack will challenge your most stayed understandings while embracing your deepest desires for the Holy.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

The Season of Caution

Ice and snow on the roads have slowed me down. Careful not to speed up too quickly, nor to have to brake too suddenly, I have entered that season of the year which is not found in any calendar. I have entered the season of Caution.

Caution is what makes us assess the route taken before leaving the garage. Caution is that which causes us to stockpile emergency supplies, both in our cars and in our homes. Caution demands that life not be lived 'pedal to the metal', but at a rate of speed respectfully aware of the dangers at hand. Caution urges attentiveness to the landscape and readiness in the soul. Caution heightens perception and attunes decisiveness.

So little do we enjoy the season of Caution that we throw our very last dollars at it with scatterings of salt and calcium chloride. So derided is the notion of such a season that some will end up in ditches and fields, cursing the ride which placed them there and praying for Caution in others to come and save them. So despised are the behaviors Caution elicits, some are moved to never leave their places of security, demanding others to serve them and still others to act on their behalf. Caution is not perceived to be a joyful season, rather one to be feared and dreaded. Yet, Caution is that one season which, when wholly observed, is holy and sacred in its own right, for Caution is a Rite, a season of delicious, delicate liturgies causing our souls to slow, even while our hearts beat with urgency.

Caution gives us back the Day that we need no longer fear the night. Caution opens to the believer the gates of Paradise, even as the very gates of Hell are closed forever. Caution inspires thought and pondering, while deepening prayer and meditation. Caution allows time and space for words with meaning, and meaning for actions. Caution is a gift from God that is unlike any other gift - and was never meant to be a season through which one might skip.

Caution teaches us to measure our steps, whether to Bethlehem . . . or Jerusalem. Caution opens our ears to hear His words, whether from a Mount or mounted upon a Cross. Caution peals from our eyes the scales of blindness which could not understand earthly faithfulness pointing towards heavenly Lordship. Caution bids our faith to delve into the Word which matters in a manner which moves the Bible from coffee table decoration to kitchen table reading. Caution gives us the heart reason to believe life is more precious than all the things we can accomplish - and nobility of purpose anchored in the Noble One who walks the way with us.

Caution may not be a season marked on the calendar, but it is a season of the Lord requiring our attentive participation that we not miss the very gift of Life itself, Life born in an expected place and time along the way.

Tend to the season of Caution in these hallowed days of Advent.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Ten Days and Counting

We are ten days journey from Bethlehem and I strain my eyes towards the horizon, hoping to catch an early glimpse of the One who is to come. I long for a vision of salvation that neither, the repetitive playing of carols on the public airways, nor all of the 'old Christmas specials' being shown on television, are quite able to fulfill in any meaningful fashion. I seek not the cleverness of our culture, but the humility of God emerging from a stable; not the gaudiness of Hollywood, but the simplicity of a carpenter and a maiden acting in faith, whatever the outcome; not the lavish explanation some self-righteous Biblical scholar offers of 'how it really probably happened', but the common Word of God upon the common lips of God's children singing with the angels of another age a 'Gloria' no earthly choir could manage.

I yearn for deliverance and God's zeal for life . . . and I look to a Baby, the Christ-Child, to lead me home.

The economy may continue to tank, the housing market may long be stagnant, wars and rumors of wars may fill the pages of newsprint, and jobs may become even more hard to find, but in my heart of hearts I believe the Promise,

"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness - on them light has shined. You have multiplied the nation, you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as people exult when dividing plunder. For the yoke of their burden, and the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian. For all the boots of the tramping warriors and all the garments rolled in blood shall be burned as fuel for the fire. For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this." (Isaiah 9:2-7 NRSV)

I believe the 'Zeal' of the Lord is just over the horizon and it is up to me to take the initiative, to show a bit of gumption, to display just a trace of faith, and move towards the light of the star which shows the way. Maybe if more people believed in the Zeal of the Lord, there would be less zealots on the earth to distort the Vision. Ten days may not seem to be such a long time to wait, yet it is a journey which will demand our all.

The 'Zeal' of the Lord is waiting with Baby fingers to touch our lives. The 'Zeal' of the Lord is coming. Believe.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Mulling on the Flat Places

I have been blessed to spend a few precious days at the Wagner farm this Fall helping with harvest. The soybeans ran well and were relatively easy to combine, but the corn, on the other hand, as a result of the severe winds of that Sunday in September, the corn has been a challenge. Every corn field on our farm was affected to various degrees: some stalks were slightly bent to severely bent from the force of the wind, others were/are nearly flat on the ground. Corn harvest has been slow and tedious, yet highly productive. Even given the wind damage, the corn crop is running very well . . . which got me to thinking.
From the road, many of our corn fields might be considered a disaster by those unacquainted with what plants and modern genetics have the capacity to accomplish. Soon after the winds of the storm blew through, I was one of the skeptics who voiced concern what those ‘flattened fields’ would ever be able to yield. Yet, though haltingly harvested, today those wind whipped fields are bringing forth yields which are baffling to even the most seasoned of farmers. God is proving a point: There is something good which can come from Nazareth.
From the poverty of hard labor and slim returns, from the lives of a lowly maiden and a humble carpenter, from the hard-crusted community of an ethnically persecuted people, from the fields of peoples livelihoods laid low by the fickle winds of oppression and politics, God introduces an unexpected and bountiful response to the cynicism of this world’s experts and leadership. There, in the small village of Bethlehem, God speaks a new word of Hope into a despairing attitude. There in the darkened skies above the world’s fields of fear and hurt, God’s angels sing of Courage and Healing, born in abundance in a place of little notice. There along the byways of passing privilege and power, in the heart of flattened dreams and crushed anticipation, God births New Vision and Realized Presence in the unexpected yield of a Holy Baby where no-one, no-one expected any good to emerge.
Is it any wonder that the shepherds were the first ones to hear and take notice? Should it surprise either you or me that, while darkness covered the land and deep darkness the hearts of the people, God placed a magnificent star above the Savior’s birthplace, boldly proclaiming a Mercy never before known, a Grace riding on the waves of gossamer angel songs, piercing the prevailing winds of withering drought and disease with Light above Light, an Answer to Prayer? Have we become so accustomed to hearing the Story of God elevating the Harvest in the planting of the Son, that our own expectations of anything being made different this year in His coming are little higher than the flattest corn? Our lives little more than rote holiday behaviors exercised on an annual basis in the hopes that others might not notice the lack of depth in our soul?
“Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,” says John the baptizer in the Gospel of Mark.
Today is an incredibly wonderful day to see with God’s eyes the potential in those flattened places of our lives. Today is an opportune time to consider with God’s heart the abundant yield that waits to be harvested in those surprising places. Today is an excellent day to ‘Prepare the way of the Lord’, prayerfully expectant of God to bring forth from the birth waters of struggle new Truth, new Life, and new Faith.
I pray you and yours a blessed and bountifully powerful Advent and Christmas. God is entering into the lives of those who are ready and, through the birth of God’s Son, Jesus, the storm’s devastations are rendered new meaning. Come, see the Son, and there find Life Abundant.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don