“That same day Pharaoh commanded the taskmasters of the people, as well as their supervisors, “You shall no longer give the people straw to make bricks, as before; let them go and gather straw for themselves. But you shall require of them the same quantity of bricks as they have made previously; do not diminish it, for they are lazy; that is why they cry, ‘Let us go and offer sacrifice to our God.’ Let heavier work be laid on them; then they will labor at it and pay no attention to deceptive words.” Exodus 5:6-9 NRSV
Seldom do we hear the name, ‘Pharaoh’, anymore, outside of history classes, museums and Egypt, yet often we see Pharaoh hard at work, giving orders in our current age as he strives to obscure people’s minds with labor so hard they cannot even think. ‘Heaven forbid people have time to worship the Lord our God. Heaven forbid people have time to think. Heaven forbid people have time to spend with each other. Heaven forbid that God should have a voice in how people behave . . .’
What Pharaoh does not understand is that God will not be obscured by the manipulations and treachery of any Pharaoh in any age, nor will Heaven forbid access to any of God’s children as they beseech the One who is Holy above all. Still, Pharaoh persists in Pharaoh’s commanding, exerting insidious influence upon those who are least able to speak for themselves, willing monuments and vast empires to be built upon the backs of ‘those people’ who make many bricks from nothing at all.
You don’t see Pharaoh today, you say?
What portion of your local community’s economy has been adversely affected by the advent of major discount stores like Wal-Mart, Target, and K-Mart?
What portion of your local community’s economy has been eliminated by the exodus of neighborhood grocery stores bowing down to the presence of Schnucks, Dierbergs, and Wal-Mart?
What portion of every dollar you earn goes to pay Federal taxes, State taxes, local taxes (not that support of the government is a bad thing, but do you know?)?
What portion of your tax dollars are used to prop up a ‘free-market system’ riddled with mismanagement but in need of your bail-out ‘assistance’?
What portion of your leadership in local, State, and Federal levels, live with the same level of healthcare and cost as do you?
What are the interest rates you earn for the money you are able to save or invest?
What are the interest rates you are charged if you have to borrow money or use credit cards?
Now that we have been seduced by cheap travel and nearly every person having at least one car, how much of your income is being required pay for cars, gas, service, and roads?
How much of your insurance costs are a direct result of extravagant court settlements?
How much of your income goes to fund a union hierarchy that is meant to ‘protect you’?
How much of your income is handed to those who are able-bodied, but under/unemployed?
How much straw are you collecting and how many bricks are you making today?
The season of Lent is about reminding us that Pharaoh is not God and God is not amused by Pharaoh. Sometimes the cost of deliverance from such systems of oppression is the First-Born.
Sometimes we need to be reminded of Whose we are in the journey towards the Promised Land and at what cost has come our covenantal identity. Do not mistake this, God hears your voice and God comes to save. The question is, “Are you ready to leave Egypt?”
Your servant in Christ,
Pastor Don
Monday, February 22, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Forgiveness
I was recently asked a question regarding forgiveness, which led me to offer the following observations:
Forgiveness is hard stuff, hard stuff. It is easier to ‘love the sinner’ than to forgive the transgression which has impacted our living, all of which makes Jesus upon the cross saying, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do”, all the more poignant.
A couple of things cross my mind in response to your questions:
1. Forgiveness is a process, not an event.
2. Forgiveness gives you permission not to be enslaved by the choices of others.
3. Forgiveness does not mean ‘forgetting’, rather the practice extends peace in the place of anger and/or guilt.
4. Forgiveness is an acknowledgement before God of how much we all struggle with our behaviors.
5. Forgiveness is an extension of God’s grace to others, not a guarantee that they will receive it or be changed by it.
6. Forgiveness is more about the heart of the one offering it, than the transformation of the one receiving it.
7. Forgiveness has to be practiced daily, even moment after moment.
8. The more you practice the forgiveness of others, the greater your capacity to receive it from God.
9. Little that others may say of forgiveness makes it easier for you to embody it.
10. Finally, forgiveness is between you and God. Others may only receive of your relationship with God, not shape it.
1. Forgiveness is a process, not an event.
2. Forgiveness gives you permission not to be enslaved by the choices of others.
3. Forgiveness does not mean ‘forgetting’, rather the practice extends peace in the place of anger and/or guilt.
4. Forgiveness is an acknowledgement before God of how much we all struggle with our behaviors.
5. Forgiveness is an extension of God’s grace to others, not a guarantee that they will receive it or be changed by it.
6. Forgiveness is more about the heart of the one offering it, than the transformation of the one receiving it.
7. Forgiveness has to be practiced daily, even moment after moment.
8. The more you practice the forgiveness of others, the greater your capacity to receive it from God.
9. Little that others may say of forgiveness makes it easier for you to embody it.
10. Finally, forgiveness is between you and God. Others may only receive of your relationship with God, not shape it.
Just some things to ponder on your daily journey of faith.
Your servant in Christ,
Pastor Don
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
My Dad's Voice
“I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.” John 10:14-16 NRSV
I recently attended the Sparta Mid-Winter Classic basketball tournament to watch our youngest son, Ched, play. Mid-way in one of the games, while rooting on our Lebanon Greyhounds, a gentleman made his way up the bleachers towards where I was sitting. Though I really hadn’t paid much attention to him as he stepped his way carefully up the bleachers, his voice calling my name quickly pulled me out of my ‘game mode’. A distant cousin whom I had not seen in quite some time, Loren warmly smiled and offered his hand to shake as he sat down then said, “When I walked into the gym I heard a voice above the others encouraging the Greyhounds and thought to myself, ‘I know that voice’. I knew it was you.” Laughingly, I asked him, “How did you know me in the midst of all the other voices?” To which he replied, “You sound just like your Dad.”
I told him not to hold that against my Dad, he’s a good guy even if I sound like him, and then moved the conversation on to mutual friends and family. Yet, his words, even today, resonated in my soul, “You sound just like your Dad.”
I really hope that Loren’s observation is true because, in my heart, my Dad’s voice is one of wisdom and faith. When I hear my Dad speaking, I listen, not because I have to, but because I want to. He knows me and I know him. To be known by others because my voice sounds like his is a blessing to me – and a challenge, for his voice speaks of the Presence of God.
Jesus invites us into a similar, yet even deeper relationship with the words, “I know my own and my own know me . . . .” and “ . . . . they will listen to my voice.”
In a world not unlike a basketball tournament setting, with competing voices resonating throughout the venue of our existence, knowing (and being known by) His voice is a gift beyond understanding. His voice is our root, our calling, our being. His voice creates and nurtures, challenges and sustains, chastises and praises, sends out and welcomes home. His voice calms our weeping and shares in our laughter, tells the Story and listens to our experience of that Story, paints the landscapes of our journey and defines the nature of our existence. His voice brings life. Others may speak the words, yet only one Voice is the Word. Others may give direction, yet only one Voice is the Way. Others may council and prod, yet only one Voice is Wisdom and Calling. His voice is the voice by which I would, both, love to be known and make known to others. His voice is the core of my being.
As much as I think my Dad would be flattered to know the pride that I feel in being known by the sound of his voice, I have to acknowledge, too, he would be the first one to point me beyond himself. That is what makes my Dad so wise and full of faith, he points me to the God whose Voice has his ear.
In these days approaching Lent, whose voice is it that has your ear? And, by whose voice are you known? I pray for you, “I know my own and my own know me . . .” is the One who has your ear, your voice . . . and your heart.
I recently attended the Sparta Mid-Winter Classic basketball tournament to watch our youngest son, Ched, play. Mid-way in one of the games, while rooting on our Lebanon Greyhounds, a gentleman made his way up the bleachers towards where I was sitting. Though I really hadn’t paid much attention to him as he stepped his way carefully up the bleachers, his voice calling my name quickly pulled me out of my ‘game mode’. A distant cousin whom I had not seen in quite some time, Loren warmly smiled and offered his hand to shake as he sat down then said, “When I walked into the gym I heard a voice above the others encouraging the Greyhounds and thought to myself, ‘I know that voice’. I knew it was you.” Laughingly, I asked him, “How did you know me in the midst of all the other voices?” To which he replied, “You sound just like your Dad.”
I told him not to hold that against my Dad, he’s a good guy even if I sound like him, and then moved the conversation on to mutual friends and family. Yet, his words, even today, resonated in my soul, “You sound just like your Dad.”
I really hope that Loren’s observation is true because, in my heart, my Dad’s voice is one of wisdom and faith. When I hear my Dad speaking, I listen, not because I have to, but because I want to. He knows me and I know him. To be known by others because my voice sounds like his is a blessing to me – and a challenge, for his voice speaks of the Presence of God.
Jesus invites us into a similar, yet even deeper relationship with the words, “I know my own and my own know me . . . .” and “ . . . . they will listen to my voice.”
In a world not unlike a basketball tournament setting, with competing voices resonating throughout the venue of our existence, knowing (and being known by) His voice is a gift beyond understanding. His voice is our root, our calling, our being. His voice creates and nurtures, challenges and sustains, chastises and praises, sends out and welcomes home. His voice calms our weeping and shares in our laughter, tells the Story and listens to our experience of that Story, paints the landscapes of our journey and defines the nature of our existence. His voice brings life. Others may speak the words, yet only one Voice is the Word. Others may give direction, yet only one Voice is the Way. Others may council and prod, yet only one Voice is Wisdom and Calling. His voice is the voice by which I would, both, love to be known and make known to others. His voice is the core of my being.
As much as I think my Dad would be flattered to know the pride that I feel in being known by the sound of his voice, I have to acknowledge, too, he would be the first one to point me beyond himself. That is what makes my Dad so wise and full of faith, he points me to the God whose Voice has his ear.
In these days approaching Lent, whose voice is it that has your ear? And, by whose voice are you known? I pray for you, “I know my own and my own know me . . .” is the One who has your ear, your voice . . . and your heart.
Your servant in Christ,
Pastor Don
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Watching A Soldier Go Home
We stood along the highway near our home and watched the procession pass through our town. This was not one of those parades you can't wait to see, it was a procession of family, comrades, and friends, all taking a soldier home. Folks standing along the highway did so with tears in their eyes, hands over their hearts, and flags flying at half-mast as the white hearse, tended to by a Patriot's Guard, made its way towards a neighboring town from whence the young man hailed. A young widow, with their infant daughter at her side, rode in a limousine pondering the days ahead without the presence of the Airman she so dearly loved.
War does not respect hometowns, family, loved ones, hopes, children, dreams, or ambitions. Shrapnel, copper-coated bullets, and other such dealers of death claim their victims with wild abandon . . . as hearts break and those closest are left to make sense out of gifts unopened, talents unused, and love silenced.
Our community exercised its grateful voice of support and consolation for those who remain as we took our places, stopping in the midst of our busy-ness to share one soldier's journey home. Yet, one can only wonder after the last flag is put away and the last fire truck turns off its lights: How many such processions will it take? How many such processions will be enough? How many tears must fall? How many hearts must break? How many children must grow up without parents . . . before we, the world collectively, listens to Micah: "And what does God require of you, O mortal, but to do justice, to love mercy, and walk humbly with your God?" . . . and answers with peace, equity and sharing.
One can only wonder as another soldier makes his final journey home.
Your servant in Christ,
Pastor Don
Friday, November 20, 2009
In the Days of Life
In the days of life between here and There
God’s love has guided the way,
Held always by Heaven’s Spirit
Every night is lived as day.
We cannot imagine our world
Outside the salvation history of God,
For before we were, God was,
And after we will be, there still is God.
Human life arrives and passes away,
Kingdoms totter and fall,
Armies ride into yet another battle
And come face to face with a wall:
The one enemy they cannot conquer
Is, in fact, the one that limits them,
Death holds it sway in a mortal world
Severing mother from child like a limb.
Yet, all of Pharaoh’s armies
And all of Caesar’s men,
Proved what God knew from the beginning,
The tomb shall be empty in Him. DCW
God’s love has guided the way,
Held always by Heaven’s Spirit
Every night is lived as day.
We cannot imagine our world
Outside the salvation history of God,
For before we were, God was,
And after we will be, there still is God.
Human life arrives and passes away,
Kingdoms totter and fall,
Armies ride into yet another battle
And come face to face with a wall:
The one enemy they cannot conquer
Is, in fact, the one that limits them,
Death holds it sway in a mortal world
Severing mother from child like a limb.
Yet, all of Pharaoh’s armies
And all of Caesar’s men,
Proved what God knew from the beginning,
The tomb shall be empty in Him. DCW
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
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.
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!
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