Fire In the Family

Pastor Don's Corner . . .
* Pastor's note: Before anything more is written, I must confess that my mind and heart are heavily weighed down by the fire in the home of Rhetta Newsome and her son, Kevin. Standing with Kyle and Paula and Kevin as the Lebanon, O'Fallon and Sugar Loaf Township Firemen did their work quickly and well, there just are not adequate words for the feelings that were carried into the sky on the wisps of smoke that once were the wood and fiber of the Newsome home. Watching Rhetta's gentle tears and listening to her low moans of grief, then tending to the scene with Kevin, Kyle and Paula as it became clear that the fire was arson . . . and knowing that heaven's angels had been watching over Rhetta and Kevin, keeping them from harm, brings me to this moment in a both a grateful and a pensive prayer mood. As Kevin said it, "This was personal." Every tire on every car Kevin had on their lot had been flattened. An accelerant had been used on multiple sites on the property. Someone(s) had been intentional about sending a message.
Now it is imperative that the community send a message on behalf of the Newsome's and everyone like them: No more! This behavior will not be tolerated. This lack of respect for the property and livelihood of others will not be overlooked. This lack of basic human concern for the welfare of others will not be ignored. Not here, not there, not ever. No more!
Just as it takes a village to raise a child, so it takes a community living justly to ensure justice. If the burning of the Newsome home does not motivate the Lebanon community, and communities just like us around the world, to live towards a higher plane of faith, behavior and responsibility, expecting of each other that higher plane of faith, behavior and responsibility, then every home, every life is in jeopardy, for what 'that someone(s)' said today is that neither life, nor property matter: "Only what I want, what I believe, and what I think I need matters. And, I will do anything I want, to anybody I want, to get that point across." That, my friends, is base terrorist behavior - and this terrorist is not across the sea.
I am not advocating vigilante justice. I am advocating a faithful Christian expression of life lived well, as a disciple of Jesus Christ who, by the way, did not turn away from injustices, but squarely faced them in the eye and addressed them from the Mount, the Praetorium, and the cross. This is not a yearning for justice which is for the weak of heart. It is a way of life which demands our all.
That said . . .
As I sat before my computer this evening after spending the day with the Newsome's and prayed God's guidance before opening my Bible, I could never have anticipated what text my Bible would open to:
"Then Peter came and said to him, "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times."" (Matthew 18.21-22 NRSV)
"Forgiveness?!", I thought. "Great. Nice text, Lord. Next you'll want me to talk about loving my enemies and really putting my faith on the line. All that nice writing about justice in the community just before this, then Your Spirit leads me to this text in Matthew about forgiveness. What's up with that?"
Then I looked up the word translated as 'forgive' in the Greek, did a word study and began to understand a bit more of what the Lord was pointing me towards. The word in the Matthew text translated as 'forgive' is "ă-phā'-sō", meaning "to send away, dismiss, suffer to depart". So, essentially, Peter is asking, "Lord, another member of the church sins against me, how often should I send them away, dismiss them, or suffer them to depart?" Forgiveness, in this context, is not about saying, 'Everything's okay' and forgetting about it. The kind of forgiveness Jesus talks about in this text (and the following story about the unjust servant) is about not carrying the issue with you, thereby giving the offender continued power and influence over you. The king who set the unjust servant free sent him away out of pity, then, later re-jailed the unjust servant for not showing understanding towards another who owed him money. Forgiveness, in this context, does not forget the trespass, but chooses to dismiss the offender, rather than continue to be consumed by the offense.
So, what is it we pray for when we ask God, " . . . and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors . . ."? Do we pray for God to forget our sins? Do we pray that God doesn't notice our sins? Do we pray that God will just forgive our sins? Are we praying to 'make a deal' with God about our sins, according to how we forgive the sins of others? Are we praying that God's sense of justice just overlooks whatever it is that we do? Are we praying for the courage, the will, the faith to forgive others as we pray God forgives us? And, if all is forgiven, where is the justice in this, either for ourselves who offend or for those who offend us? What of justice for God? What is justice before God?
In the Matthew 18 exchange between Peter and Jesus, then again in the following parable about the unjust servant, we need to note: to forgive does not mean the indiscretion, nor the debt, disappears. Rather, the one offended, the one to whom the debt is owed, extends pity over punishment, dismissal over imprisonment, choosing to send away - over dealing with them day after day. Forgiveness, then, is more about the one doing the forgiving than it is about the one being forgiven. The debt owed, the sin committed, speaks loudly enough to the community on its own.
To forgive is to intentionally choose not to give power, nor time, to the one who is unquestionably guilty. Sin's verdict has its own justice and guilt its own punishment. Yet, to forgive is to step away from being the one forced to carry the bad behaviors of others and claim freedom in the simple act of moving on. Forgiveness is to cast off the burden another has placed upon you in favor of the freedom God offers in living justly and equitably with others. Forgiveness is about the one sinned against - and the choices they make. Accepting forgiveness means to live out of the newly found freedom one has been given, extending that 'relief' to another and choosing, too, to live differently.
All that said, forgiveness is hard work, hard work indeed. We are a people skilled in seeing the speck in another's eye, yet boorishly slow in recognizing the log in our own. It is easy to tell others what they need to be forgiving and how they need to live as a people forgiven, yet is it an agonizing trek towards becoming personally forgiving and living as one forgiven of far more than we could ever imagine.
This particular night, I am finding it very hard to even consider forgiveness of those who have done such damage to the Newsome's home, livelihood, and lives, still, I am not sure how far or how long I want to carry those who did this to them. I'm not certain I want them to have that much power, nor am I certain that forgiveness is mine to offer. What I am certain of is that friends of mine are hurting through no fault of their own . . . and I am angry and hungry for justice on their behalf. How forgiveness fits into all of this is something I will have to pray about for a time, even while praying God will find forgiveness in God's heart for me.
Your servant in Christ,
Pastor Don

Truth and Lies

"Our town is a quaint little town with little crime and no prejudice whatsoever." "When someone in our family speaks, everyone listens. They have to, there are so many of us!" "I don't have the capacity to be prejudiced. I believe in live and let live, no matter how wrong they are." "I said to her, "I don't care whether you are Catholic or Christian, you just need to go to church somewhere!"" "I believe in God and all that . . . I'm just not so certain God believes in the Church. So, I'm not gonna put my time in there until I know it matters to God." "I'm a Democrat because I can't stand Republicans!" "I'm a Republican because I can't imagine being a liberal Democrat!" "I'm going to wait out the downturn in the economy until my unemployment runs out." "So far I haven't been able to find a job that meets my salary requirements." "I'm overqualified for hourly jobs and underqualified for management." "If it weren't for all the *%@#* (__fill in your favorite category here __), the world would be a better place."

These are just a few of the statements people make to me on a fairly regular basis. It is the world as people see it through their own lens, their own context, their own experience. It is what people choose to believe, to embrace, to advocate. They are the 'truth and lies' of our daily experience.

Why is it easier to believe the lies of generalization than to deal with the truth of particularity? i.e., " . . . there's no prejudice in our town." Does the truth frighten us so much that it is simply safer to speak a lie than to be forced to wrestle the truth in our own life? What do we protect by putting responsibility for . . . whatever . . . on someone or something else? Our honor? Our pride? Our values? Our morals?

Is it simply easier to believe that the Republicans, or the Democrats, or the Catholics, or the Protestants, or the Muslims, or the (name the ethnicity), or the (name the race), or the (name the trade union), or the (name the government agency), or the (name the government program), or the (name the legislator), or the . . . whomever, are responsible for all the issues which daily journey with us than to glance in the mirror of personal choices and own our participation in the outcome?

Is there truth in the lies? Yes. Are there lies in the truth? Yes. Everyone tells the story from their own perspective . . . and nearly everyone is telling exactly what they believe is happening. But, does that grant license to polarize the conversation with our belabored certainites? Only if we fear discerning a truth we can't handle more than living a lie we can manage.

"The mind of fools is in their mouth, but the mouth of the wise is in their mind." Sirach 21.26 It's something to be remembered the next time you hear the words, " . . . and I'm telling you the truth!"

Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth and the life." Let us measure our words, our way, our truth and our lives by the measuring stick of His life.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

When I Have An Extra Moment

I have a nagging suspicion that, when my days on this earth are over, the headstone my wife and children will place where I am laid to rest will simply read,

Rev. Dr. Donald C. Wagner

"Finally, an extra moment to . . ."

An extra moment to read the books lined up on my shelves; An extra moment to do the writing I've always imagined I could do; An extra moment to play golf with those folks who have been persistent in inviting me; An extra moment to go hunting with my friends who know my passion; An extra moment to get caught up on the correspondence with family; An extra moment to get the Wagner family cousins together for a reunion; An extra moment to see the plays and musicals I have always wanted to see; An extra moment to see the world through Ross Brewer's eyes as I listen to all of his wonderful travel stories; An extra moment to work on the garden I always knew I could grow; An extra moment to landscape our home; An extra moment to build the home of my dreams, in the place of my dreams; An extra moment to listen to Christine Brewer sing; An extra moment to do mission trips; An extra moment to work at disaster relief; An extra moment to plant flowers; An extra moment to savor the music of jazz greats like Miles Davis, John Coltrane, and Sadao Watanabe; An extra moment to visit with my Dad, Melvin, and his wife, Dorothy; An extra moment to visit with my brothers and their families; An extra moment to visit with my wife's family; An extra moment (or two or three) to work on the farm; An extra moment to cherish our children, Matthew (Bethany), Raymond (Kara) and Ched, and our beautiful granddaughters, Mary Cailin, Ava & Norah; and, especially, An extra moment to delight in the love of my life, Nancy.

Notably missing on such a list are: An extra moment to write another liturgy; An extra moment to preach another sermon; An extra moment to attend another meeting; An extra moment to raise money for another worthy project; An extra moment to get caught up on paperwork; and, An extra moment to make sure my calendar is up to date.

Not missing on my first list are: An extra moment with God; An extra moment with Jesus; An extra moment with the Spirit; or, An extra moment in the Body of Christ, the Church. All my moments, regardless of activity, are rooted in such holy relationships: They were before I was born and will be after I am long gone. Thanks be to God!

I have observed with great interest folks around me who seem always to have the time to do whatever it is they want to do. It seems their pace is slower, their countenance more relaxed, their demeanor more intentional AND I am forever bumping into them with smiles on their faces and laughter on their lips. They are so disgusting!

Maybe, when I have an extra moment I can be like them . . . but then, will I be able to be who I am called to be? Gifted to be? Led to be?

Does my life still have meaning if I am not getting everything done? If I'm not toiling 24/7/365? If I am not meeting everyone's expectations? If, even for only a moment, I don't give a thought to making sure everyone else is happy (which I don't always do anyway!)?

I am quite capable of preaching a pretty good sermon about taking Sabbath rest, about caring for the soul as well as the heart, and about putting the important things in life first. Yet, listening to that sermon . . . well, maybe I will give that some time when I have an extra moment . . .

Let's just pray I find it before I have eternity to ponder what that extra moment might have been!

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Lessons to Learn on Memorial Day

May 30, 2011 is Memorial Day in the United States of America, a day established by law as a time to remember those who have made the supreme sacrifice of life to defend and preserve the freedoms and liberty enjoyed by the citizens of our nation. Too, this particular Memorial Day is one I pray I will never forget.

As is our family custom, we gathered at the Marissa Cemetery, Marissa, Illinois, near the Veterans Memorial where the Memorial Day Service is held at 11:00 a.m. each Memorial Day. My wife's father, William Norton, Sr., arrived just a few minutes prior to the service, parking his car as close as he could to where the service was to be held. Bill has a hard time 'getting his air' these days and long walks are no longer a part of his regimen, so he was especially grateful for the lawn chair we brought so that he could closely observe the events of the day.

An Army Air Corps veteran of WWII, trained as a tail-gunner in the B-17, Bill has attended and participated in these services for 60 years, never missing one, and he was not about to miss this one, though today he wouldn't be participating as in year's past. His health just wouldn't allow it.

Still, when the colors were advanced to the area, with assistance Bill stood, saluting. Near the end of the service, when the colors were presented, the riflemen volleyed their salute, and the bugler played Taps, Bill stood, saluting, his left arm firmly held by his oldest grandson, our son, Matt, who had his hand over his heart. Bill's health couldn't hold him back from that. Love of country, commitment to defense of our liberties and freedoms, respect for others who have given so much, and understanding of citizenship, all combined in that one moment, that one tin-type picture of grandfather and grandson, saluting the flag as they honored the memory of so many fallen in service to country . . . and I wept. I couldn't help it.

In an age of instantaneous communication and 4G equipment, one man spoke volumes to our nation about patriotism in simply standing when the flag approached, never touching a cell phone or computer. In the midst of rampant cultural concern for political correctness, one man stood saluting what makes such conversations possible. In the milieu of backyard grilling, holiday camping trips, shopping center sales pitches, and relief at having a 'paid day off work', one man stood at attention, supported by a grandson and surrounded by his family, honoring the dead while reminding the living of the cost for such freedoms.

Some accost the American Public Education System for not teaching enough of what children today really need. Yet, after viewing today's events, I would suggest that what children in the United States of America really need begins, not in the classroom, but in the home; not at a computer or cell phone, but with their parents; not in expecting entitlements, but in accepting responsibility; not in claiming the rights of freedom, but in participating in the works of liberty; and not in wearing the stars, bars, and colors of our flag as a fashion statement, but in giving of self as a citizen of the nation to what those things mean, both in our history and to our future as a country.

It is not cliche to stand at attention when the flag passes, nor is it inappropriate to sing the words of the National Anthem as they are played: It is what the flag means and what the words evoke in us that causes us, as those before us, to willingly give the last measure . . . or risk losing it to those of other nations who will.

One 86 year old veteran taught our Nation a lesson today and I am humbled to have been there to witness it. Thank you, Bill, for your continuing service to the United States of America. This Memorial Day, we remember and we will not forget.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Writing Is a Luxury

Sometimes it seems writing is a luxury -

and I am a poor man standing at the showroom window looking in.

For a person who grew up not liking to sit at a desk and do his homework, in my middle years I find myself strangely, even ironically drawn to the miraculous turning of the English language and time spent crafting story and image. It's not a easy craft, either to learn or practice, nor is it an art to be splashed upon the waiting canvas of convention. Rather, at least for me, writing is a gift to be opened slowly, savoring the design of the wrapping, the intricate tying of the bow, and pondering the intention of the giver. To spend a moment of my life allowing my mind to wander, my heart to ponder, and my soul to express faith, is to dive deeply into my origins for, indeed, the God who created me, created me in God's own image. So, to express something of that image is to utter a word of God's own activities through me and that notion alone gives me pause. The fingers of a poor man handle the luxury and sacredness of the word - and I dare not drop it.

Nor can I turn away from it.

Long before the advent of the printing press, before the time of monkish labors over copied text, before scrolls bore the perspiration of those who made them from papyrus, or stones reflected the articulation of chiseled idea, the word existed. Story shaped experience, even as experience found life in the telling, and in the hearing of the word new perspectives found their genesis, and narrative formed community. Cultures chronicled the best places to fish and the right times to plant. Yarns around the fire became legends shared with the young - and the word established the parameters of race and ethnicity, poverty and power, wholeness and despair, triumph and failure, even life and death.

The authority of the word was not in and of itself, but in the reverence it commanded as a gift of the Word from whom all things come. Thus, even today, to misuse a word is to abuse the Word and to render the gift as little more than a tool of manipulation. Similarly, to ignore the word is to deny one's own existence and to forfeit the luxury set in our hands.

Thus, I find myself once again moving from showroom window to cluttered desk, endeavoring with trembling lips to articulate that which is yearning to be known, that which is emerging to be seen, the One who is Word before all words. I pray for the Word in you, as well.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Psalm 30 & Auschwitz-Birkenau

"You have turned my mourning into dancing: you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, so that my soul may praise you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever." Psalm 30:11-12 NRSV

Recently, in doing research for worship, I came across a YouTube video that instantly stopped all other work. The video is of modern day snow covered railroad tracks leading into the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp in Oswiecim, Poland, with the voice of Alex Jacobowitz reading Psalm 30 in the original Hebrew. The paradox is stunning and the dichotomy haunting.
Only those who survived such horrors can speak with legitimate and poignant understanding of Hebrew scriptures being recited in places of such deep darkness. Yet, as the words, "O Lord God, forever will I give you thanks" linger on the screen against the background of the train tracks, Auschwitz-Birkenau and Jacobwitz's own footsteps slowly fading away in the snow, even a person such as I am bowed in utter disbelief and disdain, heart scored by the searing hot knife of guilt and horror.
How could such a thing happen? How could our 'civilized' world allow it to happen? And, happen not once, not twice, but millions of times? How is it that brick on brick could be laid knowing that human flesh would fuel the fires of the furnaces being built? How could rail be placed against rail knowing that the trains traveling these same tracks would carry a cargo of sisters and brothers, mothers and fathers, neighbors and friends? How could poisonous gas be offered instead of a drink of water? Or the glut of human greed transform race into a curse, rifling a dead man's pockets to be sure no treasure is lost? How does moldy, worm infested bread and lice ridden rags become the acceptable standard of hospitality? Or the demands of slave labor in abhorrent conditions the acceptable practice?
My mind cannot comprehend it. My heart cannot condone it. My spirit cannot fathom it. Still, someone's mind did comprehend it. Someone's heart did condone it. Someone's spirit did fathom it . . . and the collusion of the three tried to silence the voice of God's people. Like nails through hands and feet, power and arrogant self-righteousness propelled hatred and prejudice through the soft-tissues of God's defenseless children, burning those one who could not be controlled, yoking those would not otherwise submit, and piercing with derision those who would not die.
Still God's Word echoes in Auschwitz-Birkenau. Generation after generation rises up from the ashes of this world's conceit and announces praise of the One true Master. Generation after generation speaks for the silenced, releases the enslaved, and brings hope to the forgotten. Generation after generation tears up the tracks, even as they tear down the ovens and dismantle the camps. Generation after generation announces the praise of God, whose Word is final and whose Life is complete.
"O Lord God, forever will I give you thanks" is both Doxology and Benediction in the liturgy of a people who believe that God, indeed, will turn mourning into dancing and remove from their backs the sackcloth of grieving that they might be clothed with joy. If such a faith can be lived, can be claimed, can be spoken to the powers that be in the name of 'I AM', then who are we in this age to live less prophetically, less faithfully, less fully? "Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning." Ps. 30.5b May the Word of God keep you into every morning.

God vs the Sheen's of the World

"I want you to go to your window, I want you to open it ... I want you to join our chant: winning, winning, winning ..."

copied from MSN.com, 03-29-11: Charlie Sheen regarding recent allegations leading to being fired from CBS

In twenty-two years of ministry, I could never have imagined leading a newsletter article with a quote from Charlie Sheen yet, here it is. Self-proclaimed as 'clean' and 'never more in charge of his faculties', possessing 'tiger's blood' in his veins and a 'vision for the future' in his mind, Sheen is taking on CBS and anyone else who dares to challenge his persona, his wealth, his position, or his life choices. Sheen perceives himself as being 'more' than an ordinary person, he perceives himself as something of a god, with god-like qualities, never-to-be-questioned, never-to-be-doubted, always-to-be-admired. For Charlie Sheen, and all of the other Charlie Sheen's of the world, the world is their tromping ground, their place of pleasure and provision with other 'mere mortals' scrambling to meet their every need, whim and desire. 'Responsibility to others' is little more than a catch-phrase of vocabulary words spewed upon backside-kissing hangers-on who desire to service the position more than the man, the sum of whom, once the money or the fame - or both, run out, will move on to the next 'up-and-coming, rising star' who will care for them, more than they care for themselves.

Seem harsh? Maybe, yet such are the qualities continuing to be possessed by, and possessing, those who treasure themselves above all and at the cost of all. Such was Caiaphas, the high priest, and Annas, his father-in-law. Such was Pilate and Herod of Rome. Such were those who worshipped them and those who tended them. Such were those who incited the crowds in Jerusalem in those fateful days and such were those who drove nails through hands and feet. Such were those who ordered the door of the tomb be sealed and guarded and such were those who persecuted the Apostles who remained.

Identifying threads of commonality between Sheen's behavior in current times with that of folks who lived at the time of Jesus might be something of a stretch, but then again, is it so hard to see those same threads of commonality coming out in the Church itself throughout the ages? In the names of the Inquisition, the Crusades, and the dogmatic controversies which have polarized generations of believers, even into the current generation regarding sexual orientation, AIDS, and birth control, those who proclaim " . . . winning, winning, winning . . ." are united with those who say, "In the name of Christ, death to the heathen." In one way or another, the goodness of God's creation present in each one of us is distorted beyond recognition by the emergence of a narcissistic bent, requiring the world to bow at the feet of those who deem themselves to be god, while countless souls suffer and die like Lazarus, with dogs licking their wounds, or like Jesus, with guards casting lots for his cloak. Where does it stop?

The boorish behavior of the powerful, the rich, the deluded and the self-absorbed stops, not where humanity can stop it, but where God says it will stop: at the door of an empty tomb. When, according to the Gospel of John, Mary Magdalene, herself scorned and reviled by many, yet loved of Jesus, came to the tomb of Jesus early on the third day and saw the angels sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, what she witnessed first-hand is what crystallizes hope and faith in the heart of the believer. In the Risen Christ, God announces God's power, even over death, subjecting the tyrants of every age to a judgment they could never pronounce: LIFE! Easter is God's gift of grace to the world, that all who fear and despair might run to the window and shout to the world, "He lives! He lives! He lives!" and know the true meaning of 'winning'.