Love Never Ends

“Love never ends.”
I Corinthians 13:8a NRSV

Picking tomatoes in the garden yesterday, this scripture kept swirling around in my thoughts. Love never ends. . . .kind of like tomatoes when in season, except that tomato season ends. Zucchini season ends. Cucumber season ends. Pepper season ends. Sweet corn season ends. Potato season ends. Love never ends.
Unlike the produce gardeners are renown for dropping into the lap, onto the porch, or in the car of the unsuspecting recipient, love is not given to another because we have an abundance from which to be freed. Rather, love can only be given in proportion to the recipient’s willingness to receive. If completely, then completely; if not at all, then not at all. I can love someone with all my heart, soul and mind, yet if they do not wish to receive my love, I cannot slip it into their lap, drop it on their porch, or slide it into their car. It is the anomaly God created in us as God created us in God’s image: God gives us free will. You might be able to leave a bag of vegetables at my front door and retreat into the night without my having consented to receive them, but you cannot leave love at the door without waiting for an answer.
Love never ends. It is an apt description of God: God chooses to love and to be known in love. Love never ends. So the question is not about God’s choice regarding God’s relationship with you: Love never ends. The question is whether or not you will choose to receive God’s love . . . and at what level.
The presence of Jesus in our world is God’s statement of how far God will go that we know the fullest extent of God’s love for all of humankind: I will come and stand at your door and wait for your welcome embrace, says God. Some receive and welcome such intimacy, some slam the door in the face of such boldness, and others nail it to a cross that they not have to face such offers ever again. Incredible! Yet, regardless of how any of us react, Love never ends. Don’t believe it? Look at the empty tomb.
God has just enough love for you, just as you are. I don’t love any of our children because of what they might do for me or how they make me feel in any given moment. I love our children because they are of me. I love my wife because she is of me. I love my friends because they are of me. I cannot no more deny them than I can deny myself, a concept which did not originate in me, but in the One in whom I am capable of love. Love never ends.
Picking the last of the cherry tomatoes and stopping to brush it off a bit, then pop it into my mouth, I savor the delicious sweetness and juiciness of God’s love for me. That I not hunger, God’s love provides. That I not know thirst, God’s love provides. That I not know only bitterness, God’s love provides sweetness. That I not know want, God’s love provides plenty. Love never ends . . . and I fully receive that gift in the moment I extend it to another, standing with them as they choose to receive or not, as God stands with us.
There is a big difference between handing someone a sack of tomatoes and saying, ‘Here’s some of my leftovers,’ and slicing a juicy tomato and handing a half to another and saying, ‘Let’s share this together’. Taking time and sharing space may not be our long suits, but it is what God does with us. Love never ends.
Just some love from the garden which I would share with you.
Your servant in Christ,
Pastor Don

Anniversary Thoughts

As of today, Nancy and I have been married for thirty-three years. Thirty-three years, three sons, two daughters-in-law, and two grandchildren later, it seems that there is still much more to learn about love and marriage. Yet, of these things I am reasonably certain today:

• Love is a gift of God;
• Creation with the capacity to love also has the capacity to begin to see God;
• Love cannot be possessed, neither can it be forced upon another;
• Love is that which allows the heart to perceive the perfection in another;
• Creation with the capacity to love also has the heart to forgive the imperfection in another;
• Love believes in the fullness of unity God places within all things;
• Love hopes for the completeness of soul God intends for creation to share;
• Creation with the capacity to love also has the soul to dwell in unity without distinction;
• Love cannot be extinguished;
• Love will not be forgotten;
• Creation with the capacity to love also has the mind to remember and bear Love's light;
• Love lives beyond human years;
• Love underlies all human undertakings and wisdom;
• Creation with the capacity to love also has the humility to perceive love's eternal nature;
• Love never ends.

It is not a lot that I know about love, but what I know of love I share with you. That Nancy has within her the capacity to love me for so long, in all of my imperfection and weakness, only deepens the faith I have in God to make strong and tender the love I pray to share with her into whatever future we may journey. Praise God for the simplicity and splendor of love, ever unfolding before us, in us, and through us, like the opening of a lily on Easter morn!

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Vacation Days

What is it about vacation days that makes them fly by at something nearing the speed of sound? I am nearing the end of a second week of vacation and, suddenly, this morning realized that there are only four days left for me to 'relax' before getting back to the work-a-day world of ministry.

Don't get me wrong, I love the ministry to which I am called. I am one of the very blessed people of the world who have the privilege of doing every day what it is that they love to do, which by definition means that I do not have a 'job' but, rather, a 'vocation'. Yet, the thought of only a few days left before re-immersion in ministry leaves my head spinning and my heart wondering if it was all just a dream. It also makes me wonder if I have allowed the ministry, that vocation which I so love, to cloud over and make dreary the days I have been given to serve the God of my life.

The institutionalization of religion oft clouds the depth and wonder of faith. The mundurnity of the day-in, day-out paperwork, service preparations, occasional services, visitations, networking, and oversight of staff while serving in a solo pastorate, makes long and sometimes monotonous the time we are given to proclaim the wonders of Jesus Christ. Not that every day has to be a walk in the park, but it gives me pause in my life when I realize that so few of my days are a walk in the park with the Savior of my life or, for that matter, in the love of my family. Time spent on the mountain, in a place apart with Jesus and family, should not be the exception in our days, but the rule. When the joy of God's calling in my life becomes the burden, I have missed the mark of loving obedience to the Christ of my faith and have, instead, given myself over to, " . . . the powers and principalities of this world" (to paraphrase the Apostle Paul).

I cannot believe that God has created the world and all the wonders therein to become the ball and chain of humanity's existence. Neither can I subscribe to the notion that Jesus ever intended discipleship to become a loathsome experience. The Christ of our faith, the God of our salvation, the Spirit of our soul, calls humanity . . . you and me . . . to live the delicate dance of self-giving and self-realizing in the midst of shared journey with others. Too much time spent in either dimension deadens the joy of our time in Christ and extends beyond our reach the nearness of the Kingdom Jesus gives His life that we might know.

Four more days of vacation . . . and a lifetime of wonder in Christ. That is the balance I pray to keep, so that at the end of my days I not be found praying more for the 'peace of eternal rest', than anticipating the ongoing joy of life in my Savior.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Dead End

Dead

End

This is the sign which appeared at the end of a cul-de-sac, the entry of which meets up with Main Street in Culver, Indiana. Not an unusual sign by any stretch of the imagination, certainly one utilized in most towns and cities across our nation. Yet, what makes this one sign stand out in a way others like it cannot mimic is the fact that the employees of the City Street Department of Culver chose to post the sign next to Bonine Funeral Home.

Granted, the sign was posted at the point where Culver's Main Street makes a 90 degree turn to the East - and to proceed straight ahead means that you enter a very short cul-de-sac serving two homes and the garage of the funeral home, still, posting a Dead End sign literally next to Bonine Funeral Home gave no end to all sorts of quips and smart-aleck remarks to be endured by Jim Bonine, the proprietor of Bonine Funeral Home.

I was prompted to recall this sign, posted twenty years ago in my ministry, when I was recently asked, "What is an appropriate age for children to go to a funeral home?"

First of all, is there some sort of aura around ministers that make them the experts on how people will react in a funeral home, regardless the age? Secondly, what is it that we fear children might experience in a funeral home? Death? Life? Questions? Grief? It's makes me wonder.

When I was a child, growing up in the rural Marissa, Illinois area meant that: 1) you were related to nearly everyone in the area; 2) even if you weren't related to them, you or your parents knew nearly everyone in the area; and 3) you learned very early in age that death is just as much a part of life as living itself is. Mom and Dad did not have the luxury of dropping us kids off at some sitter's home while they went to pay their respects to grieving families at Finger Funeral Home. Each of us boys were 'properly attired', told to behave ourselves, were packed into the car and driven the 10 minute drive to the funeral home, unpacked from the car and arranged in chronological order, then followed Dad and Mom through the visitation line offering appropriate condolences for our age. Once the formalities were over, we kids sought out other kids our age in the back room of the funeral home and played games while the adults hashed over the tragedy before us. When things were going really well, or when our parents expected to be a long time at the visitation, we kids were given a couple of dollars each and allowed to go next door to the movie theatre and catch the latest flick on the big screen. Secretly, I think, most of us kids prayed for long visitations, not that we wished any ill-will on any of our favorite relatives, but a long visitation for our parents meant the treat of a good movie for us kids - and, yes, this is back in the day when a movie theatre was a place where you didn't have to worry about what might happen to your children. The Mars Theatre in Marissa was a safe place to be when one was tending to the issues of death next door.

I don't recall ever having issues with death or of having to go through a funeral home when I was a young boy - and I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that my parents never made it an issue. Like the farm on which I was raised and the cattle for which I cared, human life on this earth is not forever. The pastors in the church we attended every Sunday kindly reminded us of that on a regular basis: "Keep your heart right before God for you never know when your day to stand before God will occur." The 'farm kid translation' of which is: Behave! Tomorrow might be your day to be shipped out with the old cows to market! (Crude, but accurate.) It has just never bothered me, nor has it ever occurred to me that life on this earth is permanent.

Maybe that's the issue of the Dead End sign posted next to the funeral home: for too many people today, the sign states an accuracy with which they are incredibly uncomfortable. Crude jokes and smart-aleck comments mask the underlying truth of what is known and understood about death, which is what prompts the question of pastors about at what age it is appropriate for children to attend visitations in the funeral home.

In the moment we begin to attend to the eternal nature of life in God, the transient nature of life in this world is shaped with a far different meaning, robbing the Dead End sign next to the funeral home of its power. Perhaps if parents spent more time talking with their children about the wonders of life and the power of the One who gives life, they would find themselves less perplexed about the questions of death and the timing of adolescent visitation to death's presence among us.

The Dead End sign was removed a mere couple of weeks after being erected, mostly because the funeral director grew quickly tired of the harassment he was receiving every time he stopped by the local restaurants for coffee, prompting him to request of City Council that the sign be removed. Yet, I cannot help but wonder if folks in town, after smirking at the initial irony of the sign's location, didn't want the Dead End sign taken down as well. Sometimes irony prompts deeper questions of ourselves than we are prepared to answer. Better no sign at the end of the street than one which might provoke our children to ask what it means.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

To Hear Our Children Call Out, "Papa!"

“And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act, says the Lord.”
Ezekiel 37:13-14 NRSV
For several years now I have had the extreme pleasure of hearing it, of being the recipient of it, of savoring it, of cherishing it every time our granddaughter, Cailin, said it: “Papa!” With that one simple word, she extends her arms up towards me with the clear and expectant desire that I should pick her up and kiss her, twirling her around in such a way that the world stops spinning around us. Ah, the wonders of being a grandfather!
But, yesterday, something new happened. Our youngest granddaughter, Ava, did the same thing she had observed her older sister doing. She held up her arms to me and said, “Papa!” With a whoop of delight I scooped her into my arms and twirled her around till she giggled and I nearly dizzily fell (Children are soooo much better at the spinning than adults!). Ava made my day in the same way the rising sun warms the Springtime earth, just by toddling towards me, arms held open wide and voice finding joy and expectancy in saying, “Papa!”
Then I wondered, ‘Can it be any less exciting for God than it is for me?’ Every time a child holds their arms up to God, every time a child trusts their happiness and welfare to God, every time a child looks into God’s face and without doubt or hesitation says, “Papa”, can God be any less full of happiness? Can God be any less full of laughter?
There are so many ways that we live each day exempting God from our journey: Prayers without meaning; Choices without prayer; ‘I can do it’ attitudes; Belligerent, foot-stomping tantrums of self-certainty; Lack of hospitality for the stranger right next to us; Trust in tradition over seeking the movement of the Spirit; Religious fervor without regard to the actual need of faith; and the list goes on and on. Yet, God remains faith-full, standing at the threshold of our heart’s home, listening closely for that moment when, out of the blue, we turn to God, hold up our arms and say, “Papa!”
For moments such as this, the grave is opened. For moments such as this, the dry bones come together. For moments such as this, hope overcomes despair. For moments such as this, the Spirit comes into our lives and nothing remains the same. In God’s grace and love, we are given a home not built with human hands and the land yields a bounty of joy inconceivable in human imagination.
“ . . . then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act, says the Lord,” are more than just words at the end of a prophetic text. They are the embodiment of life breathed, promises fulfilled, and decisive action taken on our behalf, all that we might know the wonder of God . . . twirling us around in the midst of the stars with Child-like giggling filling the heavens.
“Papa” is the apocalyptic pronouncement of God’s people coming home for the very first time all over again – and the Spirit’s affirmation that there is Good News to share in every age. Thanks be to God for a granddaughter’s innocent glee!
Your servant in Christ,
Pastor Don

Memorial Day

The first thing I noticed driving into my hometown yesterday were the flags. On every power pole, on every block, at about a forty-five degree angle beginning at about six feet off the ground, was stationed 'The Stars and Stripes' or, more appropriately stated, an American Flag. Approximately three feet by four feet in size, the flags along the mile of Main Street which is Marissa, Illinois, were an impressive reminder of the reason for the celebration, which was Memorial Day. Driving through town, hurrying to make it to the Memorial Day Service being held in the Marissa Cemetery at the Veteran's Memorial, all of the flags passing by my windows in rapid succession, first some on the left, then some on the right, got me to thinking about the lives, dreams, and visions they represented.

Are there enough American Flags flown in the United States of America on Memorial Day to signify every person who has died in defense of our country? Can there ever be enough? I was a History major in college, but never thought of it this way. If you began counting from the time the United States was being settled by the immigrants, not to mention the Native Americans whose lives were lost defending the land against the invasion and aggression of the immigrants, how many people's lives have been lost in defense of our country? Can we ever really know? How many lives are lost yearly in covert operations whose code names and assignments we can only imagine? And what of the lives lost in support of those who do battle, those whose places in the annals of history are in places like a coal mine in Marissa, a farm field in Darmstadt, or a factory in Belleville? Are there enough flags to go around?

Pulling into the cemetery, I quickly realize the service has begun early due to impending inclement weather, so I bring my car to a quiet stop not too far away, and walk up just in time to hear my father-in-law complete the Invocation. Following his prayer he introduced the keynote speaker, the Mayor of Marissa, Jerry Cross, who is an old friend of mine from my High School years. Jerry spoke on many of the 'traditional themes' of Memorial Day, but the one thing that most caught my attention was when he said, "I have never worn a uniform in defense of my country, but my son has served in the United States Marines." He then went on to detail how his appreciation of what is offered up for our liberties, what is suffered for our freedom, and what is endured for a lasting legacy of the pursuit of happiness, has greatly deepened because of what his son and his Marine comrades have taught him.

Hmmmmm. It is not the number of flags you fly, but that you fly the flag. It is not that every life is marked with a flag, but that every flag is marked with life.

As Jerry completed his comments and the Honor Guard fired their salute, the trumpet sounded 'Taps', allowing the notes to drift across the marble of the Veteran's Memorial then out and through the graves of the saints, the soldiers whose names are etched deeper in the hearts of those attending than any stone mason could etch into tombstones. Tears flowed without shame as my gratitude for deliverance by the hands of others could find no more fitting tribute for their sacrifice. Looking up from right in front of me with eyes also flowing with tears, our granddaughter, Mary Cailin, asked me for my handkerchief. A bit surprised, but not wanting her to feel awkward, I said to her, "It's all right, Cailin, Papa's crying, too. We have a lot for which to be thankful." To which she responded, "I remember."

I remember. Every flag is a beacon, every flag is a remembrance. Every flag is a person, every flag is a nation.

If our seven year old granddaughter is capable of such remembering, maybe there is hope for the rest of us. In counting the flags, in counting the cost, in counting the lives, remember the past and become part of the future. For in failing to remember we are condemned to the past, and in failing to become part of the future we give it over to others.

My deepest thanks to all the Veterans, living and dead, whose sacrifice allows such pondering and whose love of Nation inspires mine.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

On the occasion of our youngest son's 17th birthday

In all of God's creative imagination and wisdom, children must bring to God the wry-est of smiles. My mother repeatedly said to me, "I hope your children grow up to be just like you so that you will know what you have done to me!" and, as God would have it, mothers have a way of getting just what they want . . . . . . our children and grandchildren are all perfect, each in their own way, just as is their father. (I am mentally pausing here to let the laughter subside of those who really know me.)

Today is the 17th birthday of our youngest gift of God's perfection among us, Ched, and I cannot let the day pass without saying what is on my heart to him:

My dearest Ched,

I remember the day in May, in South Bend, Indiana, when you were born. We should have known immediately what an interesting journey we were in for with you when, after cutting the umbilical cord, the nurse took you to a scale to weigh you and found you to weigh only about four pounds. The nurse knew the scale was wrong and took you to another scale to weigh you and found you to be healthy and robust at over seven pounds . . . . and you have been living by a different set of scales ever since.

Some people measure life by awards on the wall and, though surely you have already amassed a number of them, you have never been one of those who use such a measuring stick. You have always measured life by the wide diversity of friends around you, the pleasure of listening to music you really like, offering a helpful hand as needed, the pursuit of knowledge which interests you, and the accumulation of wisdom which makes you a better person in the world. Don't ever stop measuring life in such wonderful ways!

Some people believe that being the youngest in the family means that you must have had to grow up in the shadow of those who are before you. Unfortunately, people stuck in such beliefs reflect more of their own challenges than a understanding of who you are. They have never met you. You have never been one to dwell in the shadows of your brothers, you have been (and are) far too busy in the sunshine of God's Light in your life to worry about the shadows others cast. You are as intrigued by the light of the sun as you are curious about the twinkle of the stars. Your life is an undimmed expression of faith, joy and hope, all wrapped up in the tenderness of one who exercises great expectations of what God has yet to reveal in you and through you. You are your own unique light of God in our world and I simply love watching what you are doing to dispel the darkness of the present age.

Some people say that being the youngest of three boys, all who have gone through the same school system, means that you are always having to strive to be better than your brothers were in school. It brings tears to my eyes as I think on how all three of you boys have been your own person throughout your educational and extra-curricular years. As your older brothers before you, you have cut a wide swath in the educational arena, taking the hardest courses, challenging the toughest teachers, and earning the highest grades possible, not because someone else set the standard for you, but because you set high standards for yourself. Equally, on both the field of play and on the stage of group activities, you have earned the respect of advisor and teammate alike in your tenacious capacity to work hard, not only for the sake of personal growth, but for the sake of whole. You do not find it necessary to diminish others in your striving to shine, for you understand the brightness the whole of humanity might offer if everyone works together - and I am humbled by your gracious nature.

Some people say that, at 17, you have a whole lot to learn and little of substance to offer. I say that, at 17, yes, you do have a whole lot to learn, but you, my son, have a substantial wealth of maturity, faith and wisdom to offer all of the 'some peoples' in the world. You have spent 17 years in the fishbowl of a pastor's home, the parsonage or manse as some would call it, and have had to deal with more people with issues of domestic violence, death notifications, hospital emergency calls, marriage crises, non-payment of rent, need for medicine, transients, complaints about the pastor, concerns about the church, and older adults just needing someone to talk to, than anyone would ever, could ever, believe . . . . and always you have treated the ones in need with respect, love and care. Your simple acts of hospitality to the stranger have never made you better than them, but have always made you companions with them in the twistedness of life's journey and, believe me, most folk would rather have a trustworthy caring companion on the journey than all of the well-meaning substantive advice in the world.

I am so proud of you - and of who you are becoming. None of us are the finished product of what God intends in us, but you, at 17, are well on the way. Just as no race in the track meet will ever completely define you, neither will any one event or day contain all that you will become in God. What matters is how you run the race, the tenacity with which you persevere, your capacity to be a gentleman on the track as well as off, your faith in the God who is with you in every step, and your attention to those with whom you share the challenges before you.

We are blessed that you are our son, just as we are blessed with your older brothers. God has made each of you in that most peculiar and particular way which identifies you as one of God's own: Your eyes reflect God's love. On this day I am grateful for all of the basketball games, the soccer games, the track meets, the golf games, the days in the pool, the hours of talking, the projects worked on together, and the times our family has shared laughter and challenge. But, most of all, I am simply, tearfully, joyful that I am blessed, that we are blessed, to call you 'son', for like the Son before you whose actions led His Father to announce from heaven, "With you I am well pleased!" so, too, you are rising from the birthwaters to do what you are gifted to do in God's creation and that is most pleasing to me.

I love you, Ched. Happy 17th birthday!

Dad