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!

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.

  

I Gave Jesus a Ride Home Yesterday

I gave Jesus a ride home yesterday. Oddly enough, he lives in Litchfield, Illinois.
He came to the door of the St. Paul UCC Church Office. Actually, I noticed him when he walked by the door as though looking for somewhere or something else, then came back to the door. At first appearance he was wearing a thin tee-shirt, jeans which were spattered with something, those hospital non-skid socks in institutional gray, and flip-flops. He also had hospital wristbands on each wrist. Ringing the bell at the door to the office, he turned his face towards the Conference Room where I was sitting in conversation with a couple of other people and it was then that I also saw his black-eye and bent nose. Clearly this man had been in a brawl at one time or another and was now here at the church needing something.
Not sure of his circumstance and feeling a need to shield our staff from Lord knows what (no pun intended), I went to the door and opened it to him, inviting him in and asking him his name. (I will not share his name here to protect his identity, but let's just call him 'Jesus') Jesus told me his name and then I asked about his hospital bracelets. So it was that Jesus told me his story:
It seems that on Saturday evening Jesus and his wife were home watching television when, suddenly, there was a commotion on their front porch and a pounding on their door. Jesus got up from his chair, went to the front door and opened it only to be met by the fist of a man who was in a drug-induced craze. "He was out of his mind", Jesus said, "and was beatin' everythin' and everyone in his way . . . and, I was jist the one at the door." "Turns out", Jesus continued, "that he had already beaten his uncle nearly to death before gettin' to me." "It was scary, but the po-lice came and got him in cuffs and took him away . . . or so I was told. I don't really remember much since I was knocked out from being hit and what I do remember is pretty hazy. I've got a concussion."
I inquired, "You've got a concussion?"
Jesus continued, "Yeah, that's what they tell me and that's why I was in the hospital. They airlifted me from my home to a hospital in St. Louis because they were afraid I was bleeding in the brain. They done enough tests now to think I'm okay and this morning they turned me loose about 6 or 7 o'clock."
Thinking this a pretty odd story because, really, what kind of a hospital receives a patient airlifted in with a concussion, diagnoses them, pronounces them 'Okay enough to be sent home with a concussion', then turns them out on the street with prescriptions to fill, but with no-one to receive them? Really? I asked him which hospital it was, but he didn't know. So, I asked for some sort of identification. Jesus didn't have anything in any of his blood-spattered pockets (Remember I said earlier his jeans were spattered with something? It was blood, his blood from  being hit.), except . . . except the 'Welcome' folder from the hospital with his prescriptions inside. There on the outside of the folder was the name, "St. Louis University Hospital". So, now we know who turns the beaten man away with no ride home.
Unemployed, probably uninsured (I never asked, simply because it wasn't my business), disabled by a construction accident some years earlier when he fell off a three story home, Jesus was turned out on the streets of St. Louis to figure out in his foggy state how to get home to Litchfield.
As it turns out, Jesus' wife has her own health issues as she battles her second round of cancer and the effects of treatments. She wasn't answering her telephone . . . I tried her number and left a message that Jesus was in our office where someone could pick him up. Then I asked him how he got here. Seems someone had told him to go to the Metro-Link station and get a ride to Illinois and he had managed his way to the Metro-Link station where someone had given him enough money to purchase a ticket which would take him to Illinois. Thank God for good Samaritans along the way! Yet, the Metro-Link only took him as far as Scott Air-Force Base. It seems that once Jesus was at the SAFB station, he was able to convince the driver of one of the Metro buses to give him a lift to Lebanon, where he would at least be on Route 4 and might get a ride North. From the Lebanon bus stop, he went to the Police Station and explained his circumstance and they told him . . . this clearly concussion affected man who was speaking and remembering with no little difficulty, with a black eye, broken nose, a thin tee-shirt on a cool morning, blood spattered pants, hospital bracelets on each wrist, and hospital sock covered feet in flip-flops . . . they told him to walk to St. Paul where he might be able to get some help. Hmmmm.
So it was that Jesus was in the St. Paul Church Office, looking for help to get to Litchfield, to get home to his wife for whom he was worried because she wasn't answering the telephone. I looked at our Office Manager and said, "Well, I was planning to drive to Litchfield sometime this week anyway to visit an old friend in need, there's no reason it can't be today." So, Jesus and I got in the church car and headed North towards his home.
Along the way, Jesus told me he had grown up in the Mississippi bayou, near Biloxi. Since he didn't have much education, he had worked as a laborer nearly all his life . . . well, up until the time he fell off the three story roof and hurt his back.
I asked him what brought him to Litchfield. Jesus looked at me with a twinkle in his dark brown eyes and said, "Well, I came here on a job - and stayed here because of a woman. Isn't that jist the way it goes?" We both laughed a man's laugh at such a thought. Later, driving into Litchfield toward his home, Jesus pointed out the building that had once been the tavern where he had met his wife. "She's a good woman, a hard working woman. Had a job all her life and raised her kids mostly by herself 'til I came along, then we did it together. Been nearly 25 years now. I got kids of my own in another state, but I ain't seen 'em much. Love 'em, just ain't seen 'em much."
I thought, "Isn't that the way things sometimes go for the laborers on the road?", but I didn't say anything. I just kept following Jesus' directions to his house.
Turning into his driveway, there were two men standing outside his modest single story frame home waiting for him. (His wife had called the Church Office after we left and our Office Manager told her we would be there soon.) Between the three of them there were about 16 teeth, but all of their teeth were visible because they were smiling so much to be back together. Jesus was home.
Before Jesus got out of my car he shook my hand and asked if I wanted to come in and meet his wife and have a cup of coffee. I declined the opportunity, reminding Jesus I had given him a ride because I was on the way to see someone else. He just smiled and said, "Thank you for bringing me home. I won't ferget 'yer.", and I firmly believe he won't . . . for I will never forget him.
After visiting with my friend and on the way back, I reflected on giving Jesus a ride home. "How many times in our lives", I wondered, "are we privileged to give Jesus a ride home . . . and don't?" Sometimes we are scared, sometimes we are too busy, sometimes we don't want to be bothered by the 'poor among us', and sometimes we simply can't bear the thought of Jesus riding in our car. But how many times do we miss the opportunity to be the Good Samaritan because Jesus only has a couple of teeth or blood spattered pants or some sort of hand-me-down tee shirt or flip-flops or hospital bracelets on each arm or clearly, doesn't have all his mental capacities because he has a concussion? And this guy had them all. Jesus was left along the side of the road . . .
In the Biblical narrative it is a lawyer who asks Jesus, "Who is my neighbor?" Sometimes, it is life itself which continues to ask such a question of us today.
I gave Jesus a ride home today . . . and I am the one who is at peace and healed because of it.
I just thought you would like to know he lives in Litchfield, at least that is where I took him. Have you met him anywhere today?
Peace on the journey.

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.

Noah Thinks You Are Jesus

Olivia Captain came into the vestry yesterday after the 10:30 a.m. worship service with something clearly on her mind. "Pastor Don", she started, "Noah thinks you are Jesus." Noah is Olivia's younger brother who, for a long time, has been calling me 'Under-God', which in and of itself is a bit of leap for anyone, including me, to either understand or live up to, so I can relate to Olivia's consternation with her brother now thinking that I'm Jesus. Smiling, I said to Olivia, "Well, you know that I'm not Jesus, right?" To which Olivia responded, "Oh sure! I just didn't want Noah to get that messed up."

I knew what Olivia meant, yet I couldn't help but smile at how I had heard it. 'No, Olivia, I don't want Noah to get that messed up, either!'

I am not Jesus, nor am I anywhere near to whom Jesus is. Jesus is the One who is my Lord and Savior. Yet, especially for the young ones among us who are just formulating faith and understanding, seeing and knowing the difference is sometimes a hard thing, particularly when the Jesus of the faith is constantly being spoken about by the one who is Pastor of the congregation. 'Pastor speaks of knowing Jesus' = 'Pastor is Jesus'.

Seem like a leap to you? Not to me, at least when you think of it from a young child's point of view. For Noah, I am to him what he hears about in Jesus. One equals the other. I am touched that he made such a connection. I am also deeply uneasy with the implications . . . as well we all should be.

To those who are new to Jesus, to any who are just in the formative places of faith and understanding, to all who are searching for answers along the way and come to this peculiar community called 'Christian', we who are the ones they encounter, the ones who witness to Him, the ones who embody His welcome, are as Jesus to them. What is it of Jesus that they see in us? What is it of Jesus that they hear in us? What is it of Jesus that feel in their hearts in who we are with them on the journey?

The very thought of it humbles me beyond words. Still, there it is, "Noah thinks you are Jesus." I pray that Noah sees only the best, hears only the words, and knows only the feelings of Jesus in his heart in who he perceives me to be. Maybe that is the truest test of whether or not we Christians are who we pray to be. Time, and Jesus, will only know.

For now, whether known as Under-God or Jesus or just simply Pastor Don, I had better be who God created me to be in the most faithful way I can, for there are little ones watching and I know Who it is that I want them to see: God. Thank you for reminding me of that, Noah, and thank you, Olivia, for trusting me with what you know. I'll try not to get that messed up.

Have a blessed day everyone!

Nancy's Visit to Colorado Springs

Tonight Nancy leaves for Colorado Springs to visit Ched . . . and I'm not going. Nancy asked me this morning if there was anything special I wanted her to tell Ched or give to him. I thought for a moment and said, "Give him a big hug from me and tell him how much I love him."

There is not an ounce of resentment or jealousy in me that Nancy is going to the Springs without me to see Ched. It is just the way our calendars worked and I have other obligations to tend to in the days ahead. I am grateful and glad that Nancy is going . . . but, I do wish I was going with her. Somehow, giving Nancy a hug this morning and asking her to give that hug to Ched just isn't the same as giving him a hug myself. There is something about having your child in your arms, giving them a kiss on the cheek and saying to them personally, "I love you", that makes all the difference in how life itself is ordered.

Maybe that is why Jesus came into our lives. God sent all the prophets ahead of Him to tell the world how much they were loved, to give them a hug, to connect in a 'nearly-present' way, but it just wasn't the same. It's only when Jesus arrives that, at least for the parts of the world ready to receive it, we are given a sense of how much God loves us. Jesus is the embrace of God, the kiss of God, the "I love you" of God, to all who would enter into God's open arms. Jesus makes all the difference in how life itself is ordered.

Nancy and Ched will have a great time together this weekend. There's even a chance Ched will be trying out his new Soaring Instructor Pilot wings on Friday while Mom is watching (weather permitting)! Yet, I know the best part of the visit is not in all the things they will do, it is in the 'being together' in the midst of all the things they do. It is in the hugs, the kisses and the "I love you's", the connections, the touches which make all the difference.

So it should be for all of us, with family, with friends, with God.

Holy Saturday - Day 2

It's Holy Saturday. Day 2. Do you know where Jesus is?Sounds like the beginning of a bad advertisement with the answer waiting somewhere just around the corner, yet it is a legitimate question. Do you know where Jesus is?

The disciples knew where Jesus was. As far as the disciples were concerned, Jesus was dead and lying in a tomb, His body waiting for tomorrow when the women and the disciples would be able to appropriately tend to it. Yet, for today, the disciples were hiding away, afraid of the Jews, afraid of the Romans, afraid of their own fear. Jesus is dead. He isn't going anywhere.

Hmmmm. Funny, how God takes lemons and makes lemonade, how God takes fear and turns it into joy, how God takes death and turns it into life. But, I'm getting ahead of myself. It is so easy to slip into the 'post-resurrection' mode and just wait for what we know will happen . . . . just as the disciples thought they knew then what would happen. It's Holy Saturday. Day 2. Do you know where Jesus is?

New life, Easter life, is not ours to claim as an expected entitlement. New life, Easter life, is God's to grant. We already know that God is a God of great surprises, just ask the shepherds around Bethlehem, or Lazarus, or the ten lepers, or the man with the withered arm, or even Pilate. "What is truth?", Pilate asks. God is about to amaze creation with a truth I'm not sure that we can stand, even today. It is far easier to prepare for an Easter weekend party or worship service, than to prepare to be faithful to God in mindful waiting as we view the truth of Day 2, Holy Saturday, starkly present before us.

I pray for you a blessed and joyous Easter, filled with amazement, not smug in your own cleverness for having figured it out based on the experiences of others, but the kind of amazement that makes you sing for joy with angels above and saints below. I pray for you a blessed and joyous Easter . . . because you are coming to understand what Day 2 is all about.

It's Over

It's over. Done. Kaput.

On April 2, 2012 March Madness was finished. That Kentucky beat Kansas didn't help. I don't dislike Kentucky, I just like Kansas more. Kansas was the underdog - and Kansas was the school our middle son, Raymond, chose to attend to try for their singular walk-on spot not so many years ago. He made it to the final three. It was Roy Williams last year there and Coach told Ray that he was six inches too short and that he couldn't coach height . . . but that's another story for another time.

March Madness is over. This High School and College basketball season is history. Now there is only the professional golf tour, the Masters, the Olympics and professional baseball to occupy time and space until next Fall when, once again, hope and sanity return in the advent of another basketball season. Until then . . . well, until then the world just has to make do, quietly waiting and counting off the days until the next tip-off which signals the return of normalcy in the universe. It's over. Done. Kaput.

And, if I can feel so about a game, how much more did the disciples feel so about Jesus' ministry as He hung on a cross? They had so believed that Jesus would win, that He would triumph, that the Underdog would prevail against the powers-that-be. They had so enjoyed watching Him interact with those around Him, watching Him make short work of the Pharisee's, Scribe's, and Sadducee's. The disciples were amazed at Jesus' capacity to transform a life which seemed irreparably lost into one which made the standing-room-only capacity crowds roar with wonder. They were in awe of His care for the little one's who came to see Him, for those who had nothing to offer Him other than their love and devotion. The disciples were deeply vested in Jesus' season. So, as it came to an abrupt end and the madness quieted into a distant din, were they they one's who sat on the gym floor weeping? Were they the one's who couldn't talk to the press because their emotions got the best of them? Were they the one's who watched the monitor from the tightly closed locker room as the victor claimed the spoils of war?

We will never know for there is, truly, nothing in this world with which to compare the moment, other than the words, "It's over."

Basketball seasons come and go, but Jesus comes and goes on forever. What we see in these days is the prelude for what is to come, but see it we must. For Easter means little if you don't deeply understand, "It's over." Touch the mourning of these moments, but don't get lost in them. A new season is about to emerge. The Underdog has one last thing to show us just as we think the game is over. Keep your eyes open wide, the Game is now just beginning.

Thoughts from an Early Garden

The potatoes are nearly all out of the ground and most are a few inches tall. I have planted four rows (two varieties) of sweet corn, five rows (two varieties) of green beans, eight cabbage plants, eight cauliflower plants, twelve (three varieties) tomato plants, twelve (three varieties) pepper plants, four cucumber plants, four zucchini plants, and five mounds of acorn squash seeds. Additionally, I have two more varieties of tomato plants and two more varieties of pepper plants which are too small to plant outside yet, but are waiting in the wings to be planted in the next two to three weeks. Am I pushing the gardening season?

"I'm not sure," is my calm response as I sit munching on freshly pulled red radishes while trying to decide how much lettuce to cut for supper, "but I'm fairly certain that I have never put a garden out this early before." Sometimes conventional wisdom doesn't fit contemporary circumstances. Sometimes you just have to risk doing things differently. Sometimes you go and do when others urge to sit and wait. What is never risked is never gained. What is never tried will never be known. Sometimes you are the head of the nail . . . and sometimes you are the point.

Wondering how to get the attention and devotion of the very creation God breathed into being, just as God was about to try again to pierce through their hardness of heart, God wondered, "Am I pushing my love for them too hard?" . . . and in Bethlehem a Child was born to Mary . . . and in the Jordan John baptized a Savior . . . and by the Sea of Galilee, like once upon a mountain, a Teacher spoke to the thousands . . . and through the East Gate the Christ rode into Jerusalem upon a foal . . . and in an upper room a Friend said, "My Body", "My Blood" . . . and on trial the Paschal Lamb said nothing at all . . . and on the cross the anticipated Messiah said, "Father, forgive them" . . . and from a tomb known for containing death, there comes shouts of joy, "He is risen!"

"I'm not sure," is God's calm response, "but I'm fairly certain that my people have never seen it done this way before." Sometimes conventional wisdom doesn't fit contemporary circumstances. Sometimes you just have to risk doing things differently. Sometimes you go and do when others urge to sit and wait. What is never risked is never gained. What is never tried will never be known.

Sometimes you are the head of the nail . . . and sometimes you are the point.

On this Holy Week journey with Jesus, ponder deeply God's love for you. What is happening, what is being undertaken, what is being risked may not make sense at all in the current climate yet, then again, sometimes new things have a way of changing our hearts. Sometimes the nail saves.

Amazing, the things you can learn from the garden.

Of Ladders and Faith

I had the aluminum extension ladder out at church this morning to put up some Lenten banners in the sanctuary. The extension ladder has two 14' sections, so the safe extension length of the ladder is somewhere around 21'. Looking at the ladder as I carried it from its storage spot to the sanctuary I realized that the extension section was bent . . . clearly a result of having been extended beyond its safe range, then having someone who is a 'tad overweight' climb up to its furthest reaches (Come on! You really didn't expect me to fess us to be a 'lot overweight', did you??). Having such a notion in your mind as you climb back up that same bent ladder makes one just a bit more cautious as each step upward is taken - all the while humming under my breath, "Nearer My God To Thee". "I was glad when they said unto me . . . " the job is done, you can put the ladder away. 'Whew! Thank you, Jesus! You improved my prayer life a hundredfold in just these few brief moments!'

A bent extension ladder is a practical matter really, after all, bent is not broken. The ladder is still usable until proven otherwise, right?

This got me started thinking about faith. Sometimes it is pretty bent up, fairly strained, nearly stressed to the breaking point, yet, still we keep climbing 'Jacob's ladder'. Still we keep moving upward, sometimes in the face of steady opposition, oft-times the weight of our sins straining every step we make. The ladder creaks and groans, the goal appears distant, even beyond reach.

Therein is grace. Where our faith would break, God's faith in us will not even bend. Where the weight of our sins would compromise the steps we take, God's forgiveness shown to us in a cross and an empty tomb lightens our load. When others would tell of the impracticality of our journey, God whispers of love and peace, granting strength and courage for the way. The ladder we are on in faith is God . . . and the steadfast love of God for each of us will not be broken. We are on sacred ground when we dare to ascend to the heavens in faith.

Maybe it is time to replace the aluminum extension ladder at church, before a step gives way or a section bends beyond safety. But I pray the wisdom never to replace, either the faith God has in me or the faith I have in God's steadfast love for all of humankind. For of such the Kingdom of heaven is made known. Thanks be to God!

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to A Wedding

"Listen and understand: it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles." Matt. 15:10b-11 NRSV

"A funny thing happened on the way to a wedding a few weeks ago."
I know that sounds like a set-up line for a joke, but it isn't . . . or wasn't supposed to be. Nancy and I were invited to attend the wedding of friend in Springfield, Illinois in late July. Upon driving up to the historic downtown Presbyterian Church, I realized that many of the other attendees ahead of me were pulling into the parking lot just South of the church which was clearly marked as belonging to the neighboring Missouri Synod Lutheran Church. Yet, without much thought to it, we parked where others were parking and made our way toward the site of the wedding. Nearing the street where we were to cross, a man came out of the Presbyterian Church announcing to those who could hear, "The Pastor just received a call from the Lutheran Pastor, and if anyone attending the wedding leaves their car in the Lutheran Parking Lot it will be towed during the service." Nancy and I just sort of laughed at the irony, but quickly agreed that she would continue on into the church and I would go back and move our car to a nearby parking garage and meet her in the church later.
Meanwhile, an alarm, which proved to be false, had brought the local Fire Department to the steps of the Presbyterian Church and all of the early arrivals among the guests and wedding party had to be evacuated while it was checked out. Returning from the parking garage after moving our car, I joined Nancy on the steps of the church as wedding guests were, again, being seated. From behind us a rather loud conversation about the 'parking issue' was being held by two men when one of them asked, "Is that a Christian church?" To which the other replied, "Oh, no! That's a Lutheran church!"
The whole crowd on the steps fairly erupted in quiet laughter at both the truth and the irony of what had been spoken, the paradox of which was deepened by the realization that, clearly, neither of the men really understood the significance of what had been stated.
"Listen and understand: it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles."
The easy targets for wry humor in this story are the Lutheran Pastor, who made the reported telephone call about towing cars from the wedding, and the two men who knew so little about mainline Christian churches that neither really understood 'Christian church' and 'Lutheran Church' could be one in the same. Yet, the deeper incongruity lies, not in the story as it is told, but in the heart and soul of nearly everyone else on the steps: for in our nervous laughter at the expense of others is the quiet, undeniable realization of our own culpability in such behaviors. Every one of us has 'ordered cars to be moved' and every one of us has asked the question or given the answer which, in making no sense, told a significant truth about ourselves.
You don't see yourself in this? Remember you are Baptized in the name of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. You are named as a child of God, a disciple of Christ, and a member of the Church universal. Then, remember too . . .
• the times you haven't been charitable about 'that person' who sat in your seat in church;
• the times you haven't been understanding of the child who makes noise in worship;
• the times you didn't like the new hymns;
• the times you gossiped about your neighbor;
• the times you could have offered your hand to a stranger, but turned the other way;
• the times you might have welcomed someone to your table, but didn't;
• the times you said, "I'm sure glad we don't do that here!";
• the times you could have offered forgiveness, but instead held the grudge;
• the times you could have given a few bucks to one in need, but chose not to;
• the times you said, "We have never done it that way before.";
• the times you might have guided the visitor to the sanctuary for worship, but figured they find their own way . . . after all, there are signs everywhere;
• the times you complained about all the hand shaking and hugging in worship;
• the times when you thought 'passing the peace' was just that: passing it on to someone else so it would be their problem now;
• the times you could have offered a ride to your neighbor's children or even your own grandchildren to get to Sunday School, then thought, "Well, it's not my job.";
• the times you thought, "They aren't really in financial need, they just need to plan better";
• the times you could have walked with someone through their tears, but didn't want to deal with the emotions;
• the times you could have stood with Christ in the garden, but ran away from your fears of talking about faith issues;
• the times you could have offered understanding to another, but chose to give them a crown of thorns;
• the times you might have loved the lost, but claimed you didn't have time;
• the times . . . . well, you get it . . . the list if fairly inexhaustible.
At one time or another, we have been either the Lutheran Pastor or the two men on the steps OR in the crowd who stood nearby nervously laughing and said nothing at all about the injustice of any of it. Sometimes, the harshest words spoken are those which are never spoken at all.
"Is that a Christian church?" is right up there with, "Are they really Christian?", "Do Christians really behave that way?", "Is that how Christians really talk?" and "If that's what it means to be a member of the Church or be Christian, then I don't want anything to do with any of it!" It is all a part of the language of the world as it regards the community of the Baptized: Do our words defile or glorify? Do our hearts embrace or reject? Do our actions reflect Presence or absence? And, as Pilate stands before Jesus in the Praetorium once more, with the crowds shouting, "Crucify him! Crucify him!", will you be found at His side or hiding behind the comfort of your closed doors, closed minds, and convenient traditions? Will you order the stranger off the parking lot of your existence? Or, maybe, like I did, laugh at the joke which was never meant to be a joke, and walk away thinking yourself above the fray of another's spiritual wonderment?
A funny thing happened on the way to a wedding a few weeks ago . . .
And Jesus said,
• "Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?" (My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?)
• Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.
And early on the first day of the week, the women went to the tomb and found it empty. God has declared the Truth of God's Word through Christ and the Spirit. What is the truth we declare to the world concerning the Lord of our faith? The words we live reveal the truth in our soul. Somehow, it's not so funny anymore.

In Christ's service, Pastor Don

Getting the Settings Right

In talking with Matt on Sunday evening, he shared with us that in one of his conversations early in the morning a friend had directed him to the 'Mamas and Papas', and their hit, "Monday, Monday"on YouTube. The song found a place with him, so much so that he set up a 'Mamas and Papas' radio station on Pandora and listened to that genre of music all day long.

Having grown up in the generation of the Mamas and Papas, I wasn't sure whether to be glad that Matt had finally 'come to the light' and is now savoring the sounds of 'real music' or get depressed that Matt didn't know that 'Monday, Monday' was a great way to start the week long before he found the video?! Either way, whether the proud father of an emerging music aficionado or a father licking the wounds of his battered pride, my mind started mulling on the whole notion of Pandora and the implications of genre focused music in our daily living.

In an attitude of complete transparency, even as I write these words, the music of the "Wondrous Love" radio station is playing on Pandora on my laptop. I set up that station with the hope that the music played would reflect the hymn "What Wondrous Love Is This?" Instead, I found a rich, varied and eclectic mixture of music that spans generations of hymnody and delves deeply into the diverse genre of cultural and religious experience, often the ready fodder of musical expression. This type of music quiets my soul, stills the busy calendar and focuses my heart on that which is important for the day . . . which brings be back to Matt, "Monday, Monday", and Pandora.

Wouldn't life be better if we could just 'program' what we wanted to hear, what we wanted to see, what we wanted to smell, taste or touch? Wouldn't life be easier if we didn't have to put up with the commercial distractions, the music we didn't like, and the announcers or commentators to which we didn't want to listen? Wouldn't life be more manageable if choices were categorized, if daily decisions could be 'streamed' like satellite radio, and our moment to moment options could find resolution in genre rather than specificity?

Pandora Radio on the Internet hints, in and of its own name, the dichotomy which flows just under the seemingly tranquil surface in opening the box which is Pandora: When you get everything you want and everything you want is exactly the way you want it, how long will it be before 'everything you want' becomes all that you know? Though I'm fairly certain Matt had no idea what his simple Monday evening comment would evoke in my thinking, what he evoked touches much of where we are as a people, as a nation, and as a world: So much time is spent 'getting the settings right' in our lives, making sure that everything we want to hear, see, touch, smell and taste is exactly the way we want it, and that all else is shut out from our daily experience, that we give up the flavor, the wonder and the joy which is the diversity of God's creation. If all animals were giraffe's, if all days were sunny, if all leaves were green, or if all music was the Mamas and Papas, where would be the richness, the sensuousness, the depth of awe in a Black Lab, a rainbow or Bach?

Republicans cannot bear listening to Democrats, just as Democrats won't tolerate the voice of Republicans, even as the Tea Party believes theirs is the only accurate song. The Middle East sees Western cultural aggression, just as the West paints the Middle Eastern desire for sovereignty in tones of religious orthodoxy, and the Far East benefits from everyone else's growing economic debts and military weariness. Christian traditions are denominationally split by the very sacramental practices Jesus instituted to make God's children one, community congregations are divided by 'who's in and who's out' and by 'who's right and who's not', and neighborhoods make distinctions by color, race, economic viability, sexuality, and the employment sector you are in. And, everyone turns to the Pandora station they want to hear, certain little else will meet their needs . . .

Just for the record: Jesus wasn't Christian, nor did He spend all His time in Nazareth, nor would He ignore the lepers, nor would He not feed the hungry, or visit the sick, or tend to the naked, or welcome the stranger, or free the imprisoned. Jesus was not Catholic, nor Protestant. Jesus instituted sacramental living as the way to come to faith, not as a sacramental hammer to batter folks into obedience. Jesus is God's expression of God listening to all the world's music, to hearing all the world's children, and to meeting all the world's needs, not just the ones which agree with God. The Christian tradition which does not reflect the Christ of our faith is neither Christian, nor a tradition, it is just another station on the radio.

You and I might like listening to Pandora, yet in the moment that Pandora Radio becomes the paradigm of our living, life is lost and the freedom we enjoy has become our Master.

Listen to Pandora Radio as one way of experiencing the fullness of all that God offers in the world, not as a way of escaping it. Listen to Pandora as one way of focusing, not as the only way be being. Listen to Pandora as a way of opening the ongoing history of music, not as a way to get stuck in it.

Matt's right: "Monday, Monday" is a great song by the Mamas and Papas. Yet, if we ignore "That Sunday That Summer" by Nat King Cole, we will have missed the rest of the week's music. 'Getting the settings right' in our listening does not mean getting stuck on just one station. Savor all that God is creating and, in so living, God opens us to savor even more.

Why Are You Weeping?

Pastor Don’s Corner . . .

“Woman, why are you weeping?”John 20:13a, 15a NRSV

In the Gospel according to John, this question is asked twice on the third day after Jesus’ death, both times of Mary Magdalene: Once by the two angels in the tomb who were sitting where Jesus’ body had been lain; and, the second by Jesus himself as Mary turned away from the empty tomb and saw him standing nearby.
The question, “Woman, why are you weeping?” could easily be dismissed as a rhetorical question in the face of Mary’s perceived loss in the death and, now, disappearance of her friend, Jesus. Still, that the question is repeated, first by the angels who announce ‘Good News’ both at Jesus’ birth and at Jesus’ resurrection, then by Jesus Himself as he stands near to one who knew Him well and now does not recognize Him, gives even the most casual reader of this account reason to pause. “Woman, why are you weeping?” is a question demanding personal response in this age. “Why are you weeping?”
Don’t you understand?
Don’t you see what God is doing?
After all of these signs, including Lazarus, do you still believe in death’s power?
How can it be that Rome still has such control over your spirit?
How is it that a heart can be led to freedom yet, when challenged, return to slavery?
“Woman, why are you weeping?”
This question is not just of Mary, it is addressed to the Mary in all of us: to the doubt that prevails over faith, to the despair which darkens hope, to the death which tears apart life, to the separation which rends unity. “Woman, why are you weeping?” is heaven’s question of our trembling knees and tear-streaked faces as we look heavenward and cry out for answers in the face of earthly tyrants, all the while facing the Christ of God among us, Alive, Conqueror, King.
“Woman, why are you weeping?” is an invitation to Truth, to Spirit, to New Life, from the lips of the One who shows the way.
Maybe this is why the author of John diminishes the power of death in Jesus speaking our name: “Mary!” At the sound of her name, Mary recognizes Jesus. At the sound of her name, Mary no longer weeps. At the sound of her name, what is lost is Found. At the sound of her name, what was grief becomes Joy. At the sound of her name, what was unrecognizable is now Apparent. At the sound of her name . . . at the sound of our name, Jesus announces a new community and extends His nail-scarred hand to walk with us into it.
In the nearing of Holy Week, in the imminence of Jerusalem, in the shadows of betrayal, in the shame of desertion, in the visage of a cross being borne down the streets of the city, in the starkness of death in Golgotha . . . maybe what all of us long for most is to hear our name upon the lips of Jesus calling us to life from the hell of death surrounding us every day. We weep for earthquake victims, bombing victims, abused children, abused spouses; We weep for diagnosis’ of cancer, MS, CF, Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, and even for the lack of diagnosis; We weep for children who will not grow up and for adults who never mature; We weep for a world that believes more in financing assistance of every kind than offering a hand of any kind; We weep for futures never realized and a present which overwhelms us. We weep outside the tomb while the angels and Jesus ask, “Woman, why are you weeping?” Then He calls our name and we realize we do not have to weep anymore. This is the power of Easter for which Jesus came.
A blessed Easter to all!

Your Servant in Christ,
Pastor Don

Trained to Save

Nine of us spent a couple of hours training yesterday, updating our CPR and AED accreditation, keeping current in the skills helpful in saving lives. It was an afternoon which flew by quickly, partly because the material being covered and the skills being practiced kept all of us focused, but, mostly, because our trainer was interesting, fun-loving, and supportive of our efforts. Our trainer, Bobbie Duffie, is one of God's very special servants, possessing a smile so warm it is believed to contribute to global warming, and with a command of knowledge and application of wisdom that allows her to give great hope in a very troubled world.

When Bobbie walks into a room as an instructor, it is clear that she does not see 'students' in the conventional sense of the word, she sees 'life'. Bobbie has the unique capacity to see beyond young/old, rich/poor, black/white, male/female, large/small - and articulate that vision in her partnering with others to bring life to people and places in the throes of struggle. Bobbie sees God at work in God's children and embodies that insight in her approach to training: God blesses each woman, man and child with unique gifts in differing packages and it is her blessing to help folks to unwrap their giftedness for the sake of others. Is it a wonder students gravitate towards her, that people seek her out, that her life is rooted in medicine and training, that God's Life in her becomes her life breathed out into others?

It got me to thinking about Jesus as he rode into Jerusalem on the foal of an ass, as prophesied in Zechariah 9.9, and what it was that He saw as folks welcomed Him into town. Would those who loved His smile as He welcomed the children into His lap, also love the things He was about to teach them about faithfulness to God? Would those who considered themselves 'privileged' to be His chosen disciples still be so 'up' on the notion after they saw what those who hated Him would do in the days ahead? Would the ones who came running to Him for healing and insight as He walked into their villages and towns, still be running towards Him as He is is lead out of town with a cross upon His back? Would the ones who were quick to ask Him for life to be restored, be equally as quick to restore His life when once Pilate asked them who to save and whom to condemn? Would those who loved Him for His works as He touched them, still love Him for His works when the world crucified Him as untouchable?

Central to understanding Jesus as Son of God is the old cliche, "He is comfortable in His skin." 'Jesus is comfortable in His skin' is more than some erudite saying, it is the truth of His very identity: He is comfortable as God's Son, which is His only mission. He is to live in full relationship with God, no matter where He is, no matter with whom He comes in contact, no matter their response. To live so boldly and comfortably is to live the faith God has in us to walk in fullness of covenant with God. How others receive His comfort, how others receive His skin, is their choosing. Some will nail His comfort and skin to a cross, others will partake of Him and choose to walk with Him.

In comparison, CPR and AED training is seemingly far simpler, yet, upon further review, equally daunting. Bobbie embodies in training what Jesus teaches us in entering Jerusalem: You cannot be anyone else except who God created you to be. All else and all others are beyond your control. Do what you are gifted to do. As Jesus taught those with eyes to see and ears to hear what is faithful and just in walking the walk of faith before God, even unto death upon a cross, so Bobbie has been blessed to teach others how to give life when death looms near. The one major difference: It is Jesus' life which gives Life eternal. His skin given for all. Bobbie knows that and lives her life pointing to His. Maybe that is why she is so effective as a trainer: She is comfortable in her skin, living for His Life that others may have life.

It is amazing what God can do with a good teacher, especially when they live for the Teacher.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don