Abiding Savior

Advent Message

2011-12-13T22:33:00.002-05:00

This Advent we’ve been focusing on Hope…

We’ve been looking at hope in its various guises, what it may look or feel like, etc.

In the first Sunday of Advent, here in church we read that Paul was telling people to remain faithful – because god is faithful! Those are baptismal words! God is faithful! Paul was preparing for Christ’s imminent return. He believed Jesus would return any day… any day. He knew God would break into our world as God had in the birth of Jesus so many years prior. In our Sunday’s Gospel reading that morning, Jesus says, “This generation will not pass away before all these things take place.” He talked about the destruction of the temple and the return of the Son of Man. So, Paul said… “Listen, you have all you need! You already have every spiritual gift you could ever need. All that remains is for us to stand strong and hold on! God hasn’t abandoned us. Trust that God will get you where you need to go!”

But sometimes it’s hard for us to believe that, isn’t it. Sometimes we don’t believe the promise… it’s hard to see. Sometimes, when it’s hard for us to believe in those promises, when hope is hard to come by, when it doesn’t come from within… it comes from outside of us.

When I was in High School- in 10^th grade, in Geometry class- proving all those theorems was pretty difficult at first. We were given a geometric start-point- like a few line segments, and told to use our theorems, the knowledge we’d accumulated thus far, to build to proof of some kind. Basically we were given a start-point and an end-point, and using our growing skills in geometry, we were to show how to get from the beginning to the end using logical, mathematical, sequential steps.

I remember seeing some problems, thinking… “How am I going to get from here to there?” I could see that it could be done, but I didn’t think I knew enough to prove each step of the way. I could see it was possible, it made sense, but how could I prove it? My teacher knew I could do it, and she would say so- you CAN do it… you have all you need to know! You already know it! Just use it.

I’ve told some of you this story already, but I’ll say it again. When I was a little guy, around aged 3 or four, I remember walking with my father to a ball field. Sports were always a big part of his life in one way or another. On the way to this ball field we had to cross over a very long ditch that seemed to span what to my little eyes seemed a huge distance. That same ditch today I would probably be able to step over with ease, but at that age, that particular expanse seemed very wide! Scary wide! But, as my father straddled the expanse, he encouraged me, “Jump, you can do it!” “I can’t”, I said. “Yes you can.” He knew I had the ability to do it, and I did- only I didn’t believe I had it.

In the Civil War, as it is today, officers and sergeants were tasked with training the young soldiers under their care. Through all the time they spent together, they learned their soldier’s strengths and weaknesses, they knew what their soldiers could and couldn’t do. They knew what they had to train on, and how much they had to train.

In those days battles were often fought on open ground, in lines facing each other. The leaders would form the battle lines as the enemy advanced. The young soldiers, being inexperienced in warfare, were nervous, fearful, anxious, with adrenaline running through their veins as they saw the enemy get closer and closer. Their central nervous systems were telling them then the same thing that soldiers today are told by their most primitive of brains… shoot now!!! Charge!!! Or… Run while you still can!

“Steady… Steady!” would be the command from their leaders. The voice they’d heard in training, telling hem what to do and when to do it. This was the voice they’d learned to trust. “Steady!”

“Shoot NOW!!!” “RUN!” said their primal selves! “Hold, men! Hold!” Hold… Steady… words that seemed to contradict the young soldier’s most basic instincts.

It seemed their leaders knew something about these young men that they themselves probably either weren’t aware of or couldn’t believe at that moment… In that one word- in the steady voice, “Hold”, they heard a message of trust… “You don’t trust you can do this. I know you… I know you can do it… trust me!”

Sometimes our hope… our belief, comes from outside of us.

Sometimes it’s hard for us to see the baptismal promises of God… sometimes it’s hard for us to believe what God has told us. Sometimes it’s too hard to see down the road. But often there’s people around us who can… who can see down the road, who do see more in us that we can see in ourselves. Sometimes God speaks and leads through those around us

- who can trust when we can’t

- who can pray when we can’t

- who can hope when it’s hard for us to do that

Sometimes hope comes in that way- when all the gifts are there even if we can’t perceive them ourselves… and we are enriched and strengthened by hope, in spite of ourselves. May this Advent be a time of learning about hope, in whatever guise it comes to us- from within or without. May it always bring a word of peace from our God. Amen.

God is Present

2011-11-23T11:15:00.001-05:00

When I was a Chaplain in the Army, on occasion I would feel like some soldiers saw me as a “good luck” charm, like a walking, talking amulet to ward off bad things. They wanted me in their armored personnel carriers (tracks), they wanted me to go with them on their missions, be on their ranges. Once when the battalion was flying out on C130 transport planes out of Andrews AFB, some wanted me to get on their aircraft and say a blessing for them before the planes took off. So there I was, just before the propellers started turning, on the tarmac going from aircraft to aircraft, jumping on, looking around at some of the young troops wanting reassurance that they would be alright. After I offered a prayer and blessing, I’d jump off that aircraft, and run to the other one behind it.

Now, not everyone thought of me as a talisman, but no one seemed to turn down a visit from the chaplain, even under “normal” circumstances. They were well trained, disciplined troops, they knew what they were doing, but evidently having the chaplain around anyway never hurt. I think sometimes we feel the same way about God… life is okay for most of us most of the time, but it never hurts to have God somewhere around anyway. Someone recently said about us here in the middle-class suburban world, that sometimes God is like an accessory to an otherwise good life. When things are going well- when the car works, when the schedule is followed and there are no hiccups, when every one is where they are supposed to be when they are supposed to be there, when the weather cooperates, when there’s enough stuff in our pantries and closets, and we have a steady paycheck, our lives are going well… “relying” on God seems sort of redundant. We might describe it more accurately as more like God’s on a ride-along with us as we go about our business. We wouldn’t reject God for sure, and we certainly would never turn down some blessing or other, but over all, God might sometimes look to an objective observer watching most of us, that God is a “nice-to-have”.

Recently a pastor friend from Ghana came to visit. He came to do some work with another church here in the area, and seeing as how we do not see each other very often, we took advantage of his visit here to “catch up”. And he reminded me of how reliant people in Ghana are on God! The way he talks always impresses me this way. He talked about what God was doing there among them, how they needed God, how God was alive among them even in the simplest of things. Being around him reminds me again of the power of a living God… and how we’re so easily lured from that view of God.

When we’re out there in this culture, doing our own thing, it’s easy to forget the view of God that my pastor friend from Ghana has. It’s usually when we’re alone, when we feel pushed to the edge, when we feel there’s no where else to turn that this powerful remembrance of God comes back to us – God IS alive, and God IS there… not as a talisman… but as the creator and life-giver, the one who inspires awe! I think we need each other – so we don’t forget! We need to hear each other’s stories of God and life. We need hear each others stories of God’s presence, of our relationships with God. I want to thank you for your stories of faith and life! When you talk about your faith, about who and what God is in your lives, about how God shows up in your lives, it really is powerful. Coming together once a week is a good way to remember these things. Praying together reminds me how much stronger we are together, and how alive God is in our midst.

Until we see each other again – usually it’s Sunday – may you be open to God’s prompting, may you be open to God’s blessing, may you be aware of God’s presence. And let’s share these good things!

God Bless you!

Pr. C-

Food For The Journey

2011-09-14T21:20:00.008-04:00

What a year so far!

Don't get me wrong, there are good things that have happened - many good things, for sure. But I have to say, lots of heavy things have happened too. I can't say whether I'm struggling in this or not. But it sure seems to have a weight to it.

Yesterday I was with an Army buddy from many years back. I hadn't seen him in years - since back in 1994 when we were in the same unit together. Well, a few days ago I got an email message from someone in my church who knows his mother (what are the odds of that?? -- someone who knows someone who's related to someone you know... from many years ago???). It seems my former Army buddy has an inoperable type of brain cancer, and he's now in hospice care. I'd heard he was struggling with cancer - this church-person I'd mentioned earlier, a few years back asked us all to pray for a particular person... and she named him. And he has a very unique name, so I knew when I heard his name it was the same person. Well, it seemed that he was doing better... experimental drug study and all... But, then the drugs stopped working. And now he's not well. He's in hospice care now... probably won't live to see Christmas.

So I went to see him yesterday. He can't use his right side, his smile is a little lopsided, and his hair is cut very short due to all the surgeries. And he has a lot of trouble talking - getting words out is very difficult for him; he has difficulty finding the words he want to use, and then trying to coordinate the use of his tongue and lips is hard as well. But other than that he seemed to be his old self that I had remembered.

He was seated in a wheel chair in the living room of his home. It's an open and spacious home, with lots of windows and light. Beautiful hardwood flooring, warm colors - paint on the wall, and artwork and furniture all blended together to bring out a sense of the color of his life. The windows were open, and it was such a beautiful morning, almost like Spring - my favorite season.

There was one particular photo on his mantle that struck my eye. It was a color photograph of a little girl around 2 years old, in a white summer dress, leaning over to smell some flowers in a flower bed tucked in a grassy area. The colors weren't vibrant - but they were solid! Real even, almost like I was looking out a little window, watching this little girl It was such a beautiful picture, holding in itself an innocence, a hope of life... of a curiosity of the new, in a safe world. A world without fear or pain, or death.

"Who's this little girl?" I asked. "Th... that.... that's my... my... daughter." She just graduated High School this past May and is now in her first year of college. Life goes on... it moves on with or without you. Life moves on...

He'll be the fourth person this year I've been with who is in the process of dying. One of them being my father. A tough year indeed!

Closer to the time I was leaving, we talked about the next world; what it would be like, what the process would be like, things like that. He asked questions as he was able, but even he would get frustrated by how difficult it was to get words out. So I ended up doing most of the talking.

We talked about forgiveness, and letting go, and what God is... or is not. Now truth be told, how do we really know what God is or isn't, except what we think we know! And what we think we know is based more often than not on what we've been taught, but also on what we want to believe! And we want to believe in life... usually!

We talked. Well, mostly I talked. And just before I got ready to go, I asked him if I could anoint him - a church tradition centered around the healing energy of Christ. He was very okay with this, so I prayed first, asking for God's healing and blessing for him. And then I put my thumb in the container of oil, and as I drew the sign of the cross on his forehead, I said - "I anoint you with oil in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, asking that God continue healing and blessing you."

I could tell this was pretty emotionally charged for him. He held my hand, and with watery eyes, he struggled to tell me how much this had meant to him. Life goes on... and blessings in the midst of it.

It's been a heavy year for sure! Heavy with emotional stuff of all kinds - ups and downs, and sideways. Well, you get the idea.

Just moments ago (actually started this blog entry yesterday... but this part I wrote around noon on Thursday the 15th of Sept), I came back from seeing a guy who just - and I mean "just"... about a few hours ago - got released from prison after being locked up for about 14 years. He's on his way to a treatment center in northern Maryland. He'd come with his brother and his brothers wife. I met him at a cemetery in Ellicott City - on his way he'd stopped to see the grave of his son, who died when he was only a few days old. It was good to see him finally out, but he knew it would be a struggle to get used to all the things we take for granted - like using a cell phone... (or a fork and knife!). He had absolutely no idea how to text.

We talked for a bit - I asked him if there was anything he needed, and he had my number if there was anything he could think of later. But he had to go since they were expecting him up north in a little over an hour from that point.

Life goes on...

I would have loved to see Billy Crystal's one man play - "700 Sunday's". It's a remembrance of him and his father - the role his father played in his life, the time they spent together. His father worked a lot, and died young - when Billy was still growing up. They did a lot of things on Sundays - Sunday's were their special day. They would go see ball games, or play ball together. Seems this idea was pretty important to many men... women too. The way he figured it, he had about 700 hundred Sundays with his father. This play seemed to touch a nerve with many men; many left the play having laughed and cried, understanding from personal experience.

Seemed to have made them remember... to listen to what their hearts had been trying to tell them for a long time. But we're often too busy to listen... or we're not used to listening in that way.

There are some moments in life that sort of cut to the core of our beings. They peel all the BS away and get us to focus... even if it's just for a minute.

What's it all about? I want to say "connecting". It's about connecting. It's about seeing someone else for who they really are, and listening to them without thinking about what we want to say when they shut up. It's about NOT us all the time. It's about 700 Sundays with the people we love. It's about not only the family we're born into... but the family we make, once we recognize we are able to make family that way too. And by "family" in this way I don't necessarily mean the one you get from marriage - although this can be a blessing for sure! I'm thinking of family in a more expansive way though. I'm talking about the friends (ones we're either married to or not) we find ourselves missing when we're away, the ones that make us become better people, the ones that make us smile those warm heart-felt smiles of sheer joy!

Connections. Moments.

It's been a tough year. I've spent some time looking back on some moments like this... ones I've had, and ones I didn't have. Funny how you can "remember" a moment you never had. I think going around that corner into the second half of your life makes you do things like this. Moments... 700 Sundays... talks... walks... memories... connections really!

That's it... it's about connections. When someone holds your hand with their one good one, and tells you they really appreciated you coming over. When you recognize in a split second that what you're doing, and who you're with is really meaningful - Full of meaning! God moments for sure.

But boy do we miss some moments like that - totally oblivious of what's right in front of us. There's a lot we miss along the way. Makes you want to be more vigilant, more prepared to recognize them when they sneak up on you.

I say all this here, not sure if it makes any sense to "you" (out there in Blog-land)... I guess my point here is to get stuff out. Maybe it's a way of making sense of life. Some days it seems there's a lot to make sense of. Oh, well - we live and learn and drive on!

God bless - and keep your eyes open!

Pr. C-

Sermon for September 11th, 2011

2011-09-14T21:10:00.001-04:00

Sermon from 11 September, 2011

In March of 1836, just outside Goliad Texas, 303 Texans were executed by Mexican General Santa Anna. People in Texas at the time were stunned and shocked to hear this news! To old-timer, born-and-bred Texans, the saying “Remember Goliad” still reverberates in their memories.

On that December morning in 1941, President Roosevelt addressed Congress – and the whole nation heard: “Yesterday, December 7^th, 1941, a date which will live in infamy, the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by the naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.” The US had entered World War II… no one was in doubt - the nation was now at war. That moment was seared into their hearts and minds!

“Where were you when you found out that President Kennedy was shot?” – a question that almost every one in the generation before mine can answer. They can answer it because it’s one of those moments with emotions sealed within it.

I can remember clearly the moment I heard the Gulf War started. In 1990-1991, I was a young Second Lieutenant and student at the Military Intelligence Officer Basic Course at Fort Huachuca, Arizona. We were in the secure building (the “SCIF” for you Intel weenies), putting into practice what we’d been learning – we were doing our map work, in the days when they had overlays – not sure if they still have those today. It was after lunch and we were joking, talking, but still centered on our work. Around 1:30 PM, 2LT Kerry Ellis entered the room and spoke four words I’ll never forget: “We just bombed Baghdad!” The room went silent. We all went into our hearts and minds – I don’t think we were all thinking and feeling the same thing, but for the rest of that day, no-one spoke frivolously. The carpool ride home lacked the normal joking banter or idle chit-chat. I remember that day.

And I can remember that Tuesday morning in September of 2001. I’d driven to church after dropping off my daughter at school. Once I arrived in the office, I saw that the other pastor I worked with had wheeled a TV into his office on one of those large TV trays. Because there was no cable there, the reception was in color, but grainy. On the screen I saw two buildings, and one had smoke coming out of it. Then I saw the second plane hit the other building. Then I saw the buildings collapse. Then the phones started ringing.

One of the calls I got was from a pastor friend who was reacting very emotionally – understandably so. I remember asking her if there would be someone there with her for the day. I knew she needed to be with someone.

That day I remember I did what I had to do. That afternoon I went to school, picked up my daughter and took her home. The other pastor was going to be leading an evening prayer service, so I went too. In the service, he read from the passage of ecclesiasts -

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather them together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.

In the middle of this, he started crying. He had a hard time getting through this- and so did many others. It was then I looked at myself – I went inward, trying to touch base with where I was in all this. I’d recognized I felt nothing; I had no real emotions, just the sense that I’d had a job to do and I did it.

I bet you remember where you where when you heard about this attack! I bet you can remember what you were feeling. Did you feel anger? Anxiety? Fear? Helplessness? Despair? It’s been asked before – How were we to respond? … as Americans? …as a country? What should we have done… officially… or unofficially? What were we expected to do? What did we do? How were we supposed to be “good Americans”? Shop? “Don’t change your life!”, we were told.

Is any of this different than the question: How were we supposed to react… as Christians? As Christians, what is our response to this? And how different is that from our reaction as Americans? Or is it different? Or should it be?

We know things have changed as a country! Ten years out, we know things have changed! We’re more security conscious, we’re more suspicious, we’re more nervous perhaps. Has this changed us as Christians? Funny thing – the more Christian we become, the more centered we get in our humanity!

There have been lots of 10 anniversary stories about September 11^th, 2001 – on TV, on the radio, in magazines – everyone has them. Survivors are interviewed again, family members are talked to, there’s stories about survivor guilt from firefighters, how their lives have changed. One story showed a New York Rabbi in morning prayers – he would begin his day chanting. But he wasn’t chanting the psalms, or anything from the Torah. He chanted the recorded messages that people in the towers or on the planes left for their loved ones on machines or voice mail. “Honey, something terrible is happening… I don’t think I’m going to make it. I love you, take care of the children.” “Lori, I love you. I’m in the World Trade Center, and the building was hit by something. I don’t know if I’m going to get out. But I love you very much! I hope I’ll see you later. Bye.” ”Mommy, the building’s on fire. There’s smoke coming through the walls. I can’t breathe. I love you mommy – good bye.”

You can’t hear any of this without being impacted by all this! This is heart stuff! It puts things in perspective for sure!

Usually I as a pastor, as I prepare sermons, I ask myself, what’s the Gospel message in this? Today… what’s the Gospel message here? Today’s Gospel message may not be fun, or happy, or grace-filled, or leave us with a warm and fuzzy. It may not even be comforting. It’s sobering! It leaves us with questions for sure.

How are you living your life? What’s guiding you – your life? Where are you in life? What part of your life is left unlived? What anger do you hold? Against Islam? Or Middle Easterners? Against people in general, or in specific? … And where is God in all this?

10 years removed from this tragic event, the memory still rings loudly in the hearts and minds of many. What’s this supposed to do?

I’ll tell you what it’s supposed to do! Bring us together! Cement our bonds of humanity! If we seek justice… then let it rise from our humanity - let us seek justice, not revenge! Our humanity must prevail… and we will find our faith! Our hearts must be open… and we will find God!

I’m not generally a bleeding heart liberal, but, as a person of faith I must say, the story of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is found in the very human lives of our brothers and sisters. It is there we find the face of Christ! Let the memory of the tragedy of September 11^th, 2001, bring us to faith in a living God!

Amen.

Past Sunday's Sermon

2011-08-23T11:56:00.002-04:00

SERMON FROM 21 Aug, 2011

The Gospel Reading yesterday – Matthew 16:

13 When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples,"Who do people say that the Son of Man is?"*

14 "Well," they replied, "some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, and others say Jeremiah or one of the other prophets."
15 Then he asked them, "But who do you say I am?"
16 Simon Peter answered, "You are the Messiah,* the Son of the living God."
17 Jesus replied, "You are blessed, Simon son of John,* because my Father in heaven has revealed this to you. You did not learn this from any human being.18 Now I say to you that you are Peter (which means 'rock'),* and upon this rock I will build my church, and all the powers of hell* will not conquer it.19 And I will give you the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven. Whatever you forbid* on earth will be forbidden in heaven, and whatever you permit* on earth will be permitted in heaven."
20 Then he sternly warned the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.

Who is Jesus? “Who do you say I am?” The early church, prior to the 4^th century, had a huge spectrum of beliefs the whole Jesus question – including a whole lot of other issues as well. It spanned the spectrum:

He was a wise itinerant rabbi,

he was a very special man (perhaps even somehow touched by God, or even used by God),

he was the return of one of the prophets (it’s in the text above-“Some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, and others say Jeremiah or the other

prophets.”)

Some even thought later that he was part God – perhaps even 50% each.

Some said he was totally spirit, and had no physicality at all!

He was God’s son, and was made so at his baptism…

at his birth…

he was God even prior to his birth!

This variety of belief, as you can see, spanned a real diversity of thought!

Jewish tradition had, and still has, a long history of being held together among even real “difference of beliefs”. What makes/made you a Jew? If we were Jews, we’d say… we live a Jewish life! THAT is what would make us Jews!

Christianity, even in its variety, was different. As a Christian, what distinguished you? What made you a follower of “the way”, was your BELIEF! This is reflected in the story today… “but who do you say I am?” “You are the Messiah, the son of the living God.” This story, and particularly what Peter responds, started out as, and has remained since then, a statement of the Christian faith!

Let’s personalize this. If we’d lived in the time of Jesus, how would our experience of the Jesus of history have impacted us? How would this have impacted our theology? Impacting questions of who God was… what God was… what God expected from us… how we were supposed to live?

These really are the questions the life of Jesus raised, and still raises for us.

How would personal experience of Jesus have impacted us? If you’d been there – and seen Jesus – and heard him speak, about life and God and how we fit into the whole thing – and seen some miracles or something – how would that have impacted your beliefs?... the way you would have lived your life?

Had we been there then… how would this have impacted us?

The thing is… we didn’t live back then! We live NOW! With our theology, our understandings, the things we agree with and disagree with, the theology we accept, and the theology we don’t accept.

I’ve heard theologians critique American Christianity as a “cafeteria style” theology. There are a lot of beliefs out there- Christian and non-Christian… and everything in between. And they see us as going through the cafeteria line, picking and choosing, putting what we like on our trays, and avoiding all together what we don’t like.

I’ve even heard of some pastors who’ve left the ministry because they couldn’t reconcile their personal beliefs with the beliefs of the church. There was too much tension between the two sides; the church and their personal beliefs.

“Who do you say I am?”

The general Christian churches menu of who Jesus is, is much narrower now than it was back in the first few centuries after Jesus. The official church “choices” of who Jesus is, is today rather limited. There are many people –even here perhaps – who still come to church, but still consciously pick from another menu concerning the question… “Who do you say that I am?”

So, here I am… In a religion – Christianity... in a denomination – Lutheran… in a congregation perhaps… where peoples personal beliefs may not agree with church doctrine.

But I am also part of a church of history – a church of doctrine – a church of faith – transmitted from one generation to the next through our teachings, through our beliefs. From generation to generation, our fundamental beliefs are passed on.

“Who do you say I am?”

The church says – this is who Jesus is: 100% God and 100% human, with a life like ours, with experiences like ours, with an origin like ours… except different.

The Apostles Creed and Nicene Creed are a way of moving that faith from one generation to the next, handed down from age to age. And we take our place in this line of saints to receive and hold.

To receive and hold perhaps in tension with the faith we must put into practice in our own lives, in our own time, sometimes through the meat-grinder of our own experiences.

What is the answer to “Who do you say I am?” – in the edgy experience of the inner city

What is the answer to “Who do you say I am?” – from someone living the busy suburban lifestyle

What is the answer to “Who do you say I am?” – as people suffer hunger, disease, underemployment, homelessness

What is the answer to “Who do you say I am?” – as a pregnant teen girl

What is the answer to “Who do you say I am?” – to those suffering with deep guilt or remorse or anger or resentment

What is the answer to “Who do you say I am?” – in the “developed” world – full of it’s technological magic, versus the third world, where life is often a lot harder and a lot shorter.

Who do you say I am? …if our faith has not been tested, or been tested severely?

…if the church says one thing, but your heart and mind say another?

…if doctrine says one thing, but your life experience says another?

Who do you say I am? When the faith of history says this, but the faith of your present says that?

Can we be faithful to the question – Who do you say I am?... really faithful… and hold the two sides in tension… and live in that tension?

Maybe for some, there is no tension at all. Maybe for some there is too much tension, threatening to tear life apart for a while. But maybe for most of us, most of the time, there is enough tension to keep the question very much alive… to keep the faith very much alive… to keep Christianity very much alive… in us!

Maybe we can walk in the footsteps of our spiritual ancestors… maybe we can carry their faith, as charged to us by them… maybe we can look at the pieces – study them – and blend them into our lives… knowing the answer to the question “Who do you say I am?” has a definite start point, but not necessarily a definite end point.

So let’s walk with that, let’s start with that… and let’s look eye to eye with Jesus and – with the gifts of our ancestral past and the gifts of our life experience – begin to answer the question.. .”Who do you say I am?”

This past Sunday

2011-08-10T11:18:00.002-04:00

The first reading was in 1st Kings - where Elijah the prophet is asked by God to go to the mouth o the cave in which he is hiding (evidently the prophets were being hunted down and killed, and he's pretty much the last one left). So he does, and first he experiences a terrible wind that broke rocks off the mountain side, then there was an earthquake, and then some fire. But somehow Elijah knew God was not in any of these powerful and I would have to assume awe-inspiring and terrible natural events. Then there was the "still small voice", or the sound of crushed silence, or in another text, sheer silence. And THERE is where Elijah recognized God.

In the second reading - Romans 1o - Paul writes about believing, about faith! About confessing, not just with your mouth, but with your heart... and knowing this to your core, then salvation is yours.

And the Gospel story is of Jesus walking on water -although there's certainly more to it than that. Jesus has left his disciples to go pray off by himself. They find themselves in a boat, at night, during a raging windstorm. Waves rocking the boat, water splashing all over the place - I'm nausea was the least of their concerns. Then Jesus comes walking towards them. Peter sees this - in fact they all see this - and some start to question: it's a ghost or something like that. Jesus tell s them it's him. Peter says, "Lord, if it's really you, call me to you!" Now, he was probably shouting this over the sound of the wind and waves. So Jesus tells him to come. And Peter gets out and starts walking... and at one point he looks around, gets scared and starts to sink. "Lord, save me!" he says. It's at this point that Jesus grabs him, pulls him up and says the famous- "You of little faith. Why do you doubt!" and at this point the storms stop through Jesus command, and the others in the boat "worshiped" Jesus- which is the gospel writers way of saying they were awe struck by his power.

Considering the first reading... What do all the signs mean? How did Elijah know that God was NOT in the "mighty" wind, or the terrible earthquake, or the fire after? Somehow Elijah knew. I guess he knew how God operated. Maybe he had prior experience with this God? He knew.

What do all the signs mean in our lives? How do we interpret them? Years ago, I was looking for a position out in Wisconsin. I THOUGHT this was part of God's plan! I THOUGHT it would all work out! I trusted totally that it would work... but it didn't! And I was very shocked by this for a while.

In the second reading, Paul is saying - Have Faith! It's not just a matter of head-knowledge, but a deep sense of confidence... of trust!

In the Gospel reading, Peter sees Jesus and says, "Lord if it's you... call me to you," and he walked out. We often slam him for not having enough faith, but truth is... he actually did get out of the boat and walked on water for a little while at least. Peter had to trust that God had him.

I trusted that I'd get that job in Wisconsin - because I wanted it! I wanted my plan to be God's plan. I trusted... in my plan, not necessarily in God's plan.

Many years ago, I was leaving the bed-side of a parishioner at Johns Hopkins hospital, and decided to take the stairs. I went down one of the side stairwells, and was very surprised to find there, seated on one of the steps, the wife of another parishioner. Her husband had had a cerebral aneurysm, and was in a coma. The doc's didn't give much hope at that point. She'd been praying, for weeks. she prayed, and got others to pray. She wasn't sure things would go her way... she wasn't sure her husband would get better much less live.

we sat there talking for a good long while. It was one of those uncommon conversation where you know you have to listen to what the other person is saying because they're talking about life- their life, and their belief, and their God.

She talked about her faith, and how in times like this, it was hard to believe. We talked about God, and what God might or might not be like. And, in that empty stair-well, we prayed. Well, as time went on, her husband not only came out of the coma, but recovered fully. And the medical people called it a medical miracle.

But sometimes, it doesn't turn out that good. Have you ever been in a situation where you couldn't even feel God's presence? Have you ever been in a situation where you doubted? To really wonder, I think, sometimes can be a part of the human experience. Perhaps, to sometimes wonder if God really has your back!

For Paul - your thoughts... your ideas, your ideas, your doubts, don't matter! It's the ideas of God that matter... so trust that! And it's about telling that story! Of that kind of God! Of what it means to be God's own! ...Even in times of crisis, of despair, doubt!

Keep walking... even if it's in a storm... keep walking, even if it's in a crisis... even if it's on water... keep walking! Even if you have to say, "Lord, save me", (which, BTW is an act of faith!)... keep walking.

When I got to seminary, one of the professors told us, "if you haven't had a crisis of faith yet, you will before you graduate here!" Well, I had mine back in undergraduate school. I got to the point where I questioned whether there even was a God or not. It was my dark night of the soul. But I kept walking... sometimes it felt more like a crawl, gasping for air. But I came out of it on the other side a changed person. God changed for me... my experience of God changed, my beliefs about God changed.

Sometimes as a pastor, I can talk from the point of view of pure doctrine, dogma and theology... theology void of the messy human experience

Sometimes as a pastor I can talk about the human experience and almost never use any of the expensive theological words... or not even mention words like God, or Jesus, or sacraments.

Sometimes as pastor I can talk about the human experience and not help but talk about a God that's real and alive and active in the world.

And sometimes as a human being I have a hard time remaining a theologian... sometimes it's hard to bring the word of hope in a desperate situation.

Sometimes saying, "it'll get better", or "God loves you", even though I may believe that... can sound hollow to someone mourning the death of a loved one, or the loss of a job, or a home, or a marriage.

In my story of despair, I kept walking... on my knees, crawling on my belly sometimes. Yet how helpful can this story be when someone else is in despair? I kept walking... then, and still now! I can walk with you if you want.

Boil it down in fact, and that's really all we can say to each other..."I'll walk with you." "And someday I may need you to walk with me."

On this side of the Eschaton (a big theological word having to do with the end-times), we do not have ultimate answers! We may not even have ultimate trust (it's hard to get our "stuff" out of the way of God's stuff for us) What we want to have happen seems to trump what God wants to have happen for us.

There's a lot we have to work through, a lot we have to let go of. It's a process for sure. But - we have to fall back on something! Ultimately it may not be a matter of we think or feel, or question, or doubt, or believe, or struggle with... but a question of who God is... as best we get - A God of Life, and Love and Relationship.

So... we keep walking!

Food For The Journey

2011-07-11T14:33:00.002-04:00

Food For The Journey

I’ve had a few conversations recently that have gotten me to think about something I hadn’t thought about in a little while – hadn’t thought about consciously, that is. And I think that’s what this has to do with – consciousness.

Have you ever looked at some old pictures of family members from generations ago? A picture of your great grandfather when he was younger… a baby picture of your great aunt? Or a painting of someone related to you from before they had photography? Makes you feel something doesn’t it. Makes you feel like you’re somehow connected – granted not super personal, but that you’re able to actually see an ancestor you may not even have known existed. That’s a person you came from, a person connected to you… and a person you are connected to as well – however tenuous the historical linkage may be… in a very real sense, their blood does run through your veins! And their history runs through you. It can be a pretty moving experience when you allow yourself to be there with that idea for a little bit. Makes you wonder what they were like, what their lives might have been like, what was important to them? And what was sacred to them? What were they thinking or feeling as they walked the earth?

Yesterday after a meeting here at church, I was speaking with the pastor over at Kittamaqundi Church. She told me again about a movie she’d seen, “Cave of Forgotten Dreams”, the Werner Hertzog (3D) film of the cave found in Chauvet Cave in France back in 1994, with paintings and prints (both hand and foot) dating back to possibly 32,000 years ago. That in itself is amazing. Now, evidently the film isn’t an action-packed thriller, but it brings out not so much something old… as something “ancient”. Here we have something that has been around for what to us may seem like eons. Even our best quality “stuff” doesn’t last more than a few decades. And here we have some remnants of life among our super ancestors dating back to possibly 32,000 years ago. Okay, could be that it was a little later than that – say, 28,000 years ago. At that age, what’s 4 thousand years?! The Great Pyramid of Giza was built around 4,500 years ago! And these cave paintings are at least 6 times older than that!

And the cave paintings present not only a part of life of the people who did the paintings, but I have to imagine, a part of their beliefs (I haven’t seen this movie yet, but I want to- considering what she told me about it). How did they connect, relate, with their god, or gods? And what image or images – mental or otherwise, did they even have of this deity? How did they even conceptualize this?

I don’t necessarily mean how did these people understand their god or gods? I mostly mean, how did their experience of these gods inform their lives. And again, I don’t mean this on an intellectual level! I mean it on a very basic and experiential level – more even on a pre-conscious level.

Our lives seem pretty domesticated. As much as we talk about how we really do not control things in life, we sure do make a good effort; we have climate-controlled work and home, and car. We have controlled the electron enough to make it do stuff for us, we have controlled our lives pretty well with schedules and calendars. We’ve really done a good job domesticating our souls to such a degree that perhaps a case could be made that we’ve even domesticated our Spirits, our God, our souls.

I remember my Old Testament Theology professors talked about the ancient Israelites views of God. Their view of God was one of Power! Remember the scene in the movie "Indiana Jones and the temple of Doom", where they open the Ark of the Covenant? And the spirits/angels come out? THAT'S the kind of power they believed in! God had real power, and if you didn't work either it or God right... you died!

I challenge any liberal minded main-line denominational pastor (don't worry, I are one) to teach THAT kind of God! Not a chance! You ask the average church going person to describe God, and they likely will not describe that kind of God - but more a God of love and grace, and forgiveness. Not necessarily the Ancient-Near-Eastern view!

But there are times, rare times now-a-days I think, where we get a glimmer of that ancient energy, of that ancient way of looking at Life and the Sacred. These moments come, reminding us of something more, something grander… something older we’re most definitely a part of!

Last night at Home Church we were talking about this in a round-about way. And someone brought up a couple of stories – they are anecdotal at this point anecdotal; there are no references, no notes, no studies to them. So- here goes. The first has to do with a lion cage in some national zoo. It seems the lions had lived a lot of their lives in the “Lion Pen”. They had become what some people refer to as “institutionalized”. I’d heard this term when I did Prison Ministry; it refers to the way a person lives – behaviorally it looks like this: no matter what door they walk up to, they’ll stop and wait for someone to open it, they won’t move until someone tells them to, they won’t eat until someone tells them to…etc. Well these lions pretty much did what they were told too. They were for sure wild animals, but wild in the sense that they were not domesticated. They were not wild in the sense that they could do what they by nature are supposed to do.

Evidently unbeknownst to any of the zoo staff, either a deer native to the area, or a gazelle from the gazelle cage that got lose, somehow made a terrible mistake (for the deer) and jumped into the lions’ den. Well, not long after, the poor deer was no longer alive. And when the zoo keepers came back in the next day to take care of the lions, the lions seemed more alert, more alive, more animated, more… well… lion-like!

And another zoo story on the same idea – this time involving an enclosed space with some kind of monkeys in it. They were bored, didn’t really do much. Someone seemed to have the idea of either going to the place where these monkeys were from and recording their “free” cousins, or somehow acquiring a recording of the sounds of the free monkeys in the wild. They set up speakers and started to play the recordings. Well, the caged monkeys heard this, and they came alive again. It seemed something had awakened in them… something of their true nature.

Now, I’m not so much trying to talk about the “true nature” of things as much as the idea of the awakening the ancient. I remember a conversation I’d heard years ago. I was at a conference about ministry in a health care setting over at Holy Cross Hospital, and one of the speakers talked about connecting to something old in us. In his opening comments (if I remember rightly), this Rabbi spoke of a Christian colleague who would say – “whenever we talk, you bring out the ancient in me!”

That’s what I’m talking about. Have you ever felt this part of us has been missing somewhere along the way? How are we like the caged lions, or the penned up monkeys? In what way are out of touch with the ancient parts of us, of our psyches, of our souls? I’m not so much talking about old-ness as being better just because it’s old, or getting back to basics (although there may be something to that- depending on how one uses the term) nor am I talking about giving license to our baser natures.

What’s our “equivalent” of hearing the recordings of our free and ancient ancestors? What makes us “remember” something ancient in us? I’m talking about connecting to that part of us that carries the DNA of our 28,000 year old ancestor, and their view of the world, of the Sacred. I’m talking about that part of us that recognizes the sacred in walking on the earth. Or that can sense the holy in being fully present in the moment.

How do you connect with that ancient part in you? Or do you? Or do you even want to anymore?

Sabbath Moments - Finding The Center

2011-07-08T11:47:00.003-04:00

Hope this helps you to relax a little, have a moment of peace… just a moment in a busy day!

And to help remind you that there’s more to all we do than just “stuff”.

Sabbath time finding the center

2011-07-07T10:31:00.000-04:00

Here’s a website called The Moth. They specialize in telling stories! Some are funny stories, some are sad, poignant, miraculous, etc.

It started many years ago when a group of friends were on a porch somewhere, and they began to tell stories – and “remembered” once again what human beings have known for thousands of years – that we love to tell and hear stories: Stories – about life, about mistakes, about hopes, about love (found, lost, and/or lost and found), about being human!

When my daughter was little, as we were putting her to bed, she used to ask us to tell her stories about when we were little. And that got me to remembering things I’d forgotten, about things that had happened, about places we’d gone when I was a kid, about the fun we had, or the accidents I can laugh about now.

My son more wants me to make up stories- stories about super heroes and what they can do, or the powers they have. Basically he seems to want me to make up a comic book for the mind. But stories none-the-less!

Have you ever been around a campfire? At some point, what always happens? Stories start to get told! Can you remember a good scary story you heard around a campfire? Remember the one about the guy who lost his arm and goes around looking for it? And he found it… you know who had it? YOU DID!!! Remember that one?

Well, they called it The Moth, as they were on the porch telling stories, there were moths flying around the bulb on the porch…. What they found people still do as someone begins to tell a good story… they come around the story-teller like moths around a light bulb. They have developed to such a degree, more and more people started coming around the story-tellers, that they had to increase their venues and have spread across the country.

Take some time… some “Sabbath” time… to hear a good story on The Moth! Remember what your ancestors did – return to some ancient ways… and remember! Here’s the website… enjoy!

http://themoth.org/stories

Simplicity - Sabbath

2011-07-05T12:13:00.000-04:00

In our world, there’s something to be said for simplicity! There’s something to be said for taking time. Of course- no one disputes that, in theory!

The thing we’re all having a problem with is finding the time to DO THAT! Can I get an AMEN out there!?

Quitting our jobs, and moving to the country, as enticing as that may sound to some, is mostly not realistic or most. So now what? What do we do? How do we simplify? How do we take time? Well, we do what we can – when we can… how we can. And it may mean us taking a pretty hard and serious look at our lives. Some of you may say- “My life is VERY busy… I don’t like the stress, the activity, the business, the life-style (whatever), but really, there’s nothing I can do to improve it!” Well- what can you do with that? Nothing! This person is preparing for an early grave- no matter how old they are.

But knowing we can do something and making the efforts to do something are very different. It doesn’t make “simplifying life” easier, does it? As I said yesterday in my sermon, if you ever had to chop bushes back (in your yard or wherever), you know that if left unattended, they WILL come back! They WILL creep back into your space! Little by little, they re-claim that which is not attended to! Simplifying and de-cluttering, and taking seriously the Sabbath is NOT easy… ironically NOT simple! Our normal, life-stuff WILL re-claim our lives if we do not attend to it!

We middle-class suburbanites seemed plagued by mental and physical clutter: driving here and there, meetings, preparing dinners, responsibilities to kids and/or parents, pets, home projects, work projects, etc. Always there’s something more to do, causing a lot of stress – and that stress really does affect our minds and bodies! It really does.

So, I’d like to help in some way with this. This is not designed to make anyone feel guilty – if any of this can help, use it. If it brings a smile to your face, great! If it helps you sit still for a second to find that quiet place, fantastic. If you see this as totally unrealistic crap… then feel no pressure to seek further! If this makes you feel guilty that you CAN’T find the peace you’re looking for… then stop. I don’t want to add more guilt on you.

I’m interested in sending a daily (or there-about) message centered around the ideas of Sabbath, simplifying life, living a life with meaning, etc. Hope it helps to cut the brush back a little!

Just some ideas… enjoy:

http://simplemom.net/7-principles-to-simplify-your-family-life/

C-

Sermon for Jeff Swope's Memorial Service

2011-06-28T11:01:00.002-04:00

Jeff Swope, a pillar of our congregation, died after a long struggle with cancer at still a relatively young age-66. His memorial service, this past Friday, was such a moving tribute to not only his life, but how he impacted others. His death is still fresh in all our hearts and minds; we still expect him to come walking through the doors, or see him here at church somewhere as we did before.

Some words I said at his memorial service.

Preached at Jeff Swope’s Memorial Service – June 24^th, 2011 – First Lutheran Church, Ellicott City

On the last visit with Jeff where we were able to share for some length of time, Friday the 10^th, we talked about a lot of things;

From practical stuff- the memorial service, which cemetery to use to spiritual stuff- about God, and life beyond, etc. but we also talked about life!

I said I’ve been with a number of people at and or around the time of their deaths and I’ve always seen grace! I’ve always seen grace present!

I put some pieces together with Jeff that day evening! Why do we baptize babies in our traditions? There are a number of reasons, but one of he biggies is to show that God is the first mover! Before babies have any notion of God… God is there! Before a child can call on God… God is there first! Before a child can even acknowledge the existence of God… God is there first!

We came into this world wrapped in God’s grace!

And we have nothing but Grace at the end – The quiet grace of souls transitioning to the next world – the deep mystery of a soul’s work as it leaves one world for another – the sacred grace, in spite of the pain of loss, of recognizing there really is something beyond!

And between these two brackets of grace… like 2 bookends, holding us up… we live our lives!

And his life was certainly grace-filled! That visit was bookended for me with Grace! When I entered the house, he couldn’t get up, so I went to him where he was, on the couch. He grabbed my hand with both of his, and kissed the back of my hand. Then he held my hand to his forehead. In some cultures, this is a sign of blessing! Then as it was getting closer for the time for me to go, I said- usually people expect me to say something, to say some prayer, to speak some words of meaning – of God – of some meaning in that way. But I had to say… sometimes I can’t find the words. Sometimes they escape me. And I didn’t know what to say.

It’s at times like these, I said, I feel like I have to honor the silence – to acknowledge the Spirit in that way… in the silence… without words.

Then not long after, as I was about to leave, Jeff grabbed my hands – he apologized for not being able to get up – and he began to pray; he thanked God for my strength! I was amazed at this prayer!

As poignant as this whole visit was – and it really was bittersweet; we had a very good talk, but it would be the last time I’d talk with him in this way – it was so grace-filled! I was blessed!

This is what he did… he blessed!

Even if I weren’t clergy – even if I weren’t representing a religious tradition – I must tell you, what I’ve seen, what I’ve experienced, what I felt and heard… I have no doubt there is something more than what our five senses tell us.

I recognize I’m saying this to a group of people mourning a loss, who feel an empty place in their hearts! I have heard people say things at funerals, well intended things, sometimes insensitive things, and when they comfort you, sometimes they pat you on the back saying, “it’s okay”, when what they really mean is – Please stop crying, you’re making me anxious. But what they really way is – “you’ll get over it.” I say, don’t ever get over it!... ever! We learn to live with the hole – that empty space in our hearts that belongs to the person we love and miss.

Our faith speaks of Resurrection and New Life. I believe it! I really do. I’ve seen it!

Yet… we mourn! I can tell you Jeff lives – he does! I know it! It’s real!... but not here… anymore! That’s reality too! To be truly honest – to be truly human – we must acknowledge these two realities!

There is so much I feel I’d like to say at a time like this. I’d like to say, how in the midst of anxiety and deep sadness, I still felt such peace at their home! I was drawn to it – I remember thinking consciously that I didn’t want to leave… so I stayed and waited for the sun to rise the next morning.

But I want to say…. This life is a Sacred Mystery! A Holy Mystery! And we’re all a part of it! Jeff, and all those I’ve had the honor and privilege to be with as they travelled to the next world: my father, Michael, Sophie, Marty, Nellie, my grandmother… and many more… remind, me over and over again… there is an author of this world, and this life! An author who writes with a sacred pen in a sacred book… a sacred text!

Thank you Jeff, for reminding me and blessing me!

God bless you!

Sermon from Day of Pentecost- last Sunday

2011-06-15T09:20:00.001-04:00

From Sermon Pentecost Sunday 2011

I’d heard a story of a rabbi who was known for seeing people as something holy. It was said he made you feel as if you were the only person in the world for him, at that moment. Evidently he’d collected peoples names and phone numbers on scraps of paper, and he had them all over the house, in pockets, in drawers. The story goes that one day he found a name and number- and not believing in coincidences, he decided to call the number. When the man on the other end picked up the phone, the rabbi calls out, “Holy brother!” which is what he called people – Holy bother or Holy sister. “I found your number and knew I had to call you- how are you? How are things?” When the phone rang, the man on the other end was standing on a chair, and was planning to throw a rope over one of the beams in his house.

You’re probably wondering what this may have to do with Pentecost!

I have just come from a very emotional experience recently. For the last two years it seems, I have been working through my fathers’ decline and death. And it certainly culminated in his funeral Mass two Saturdays ago. It wasn’t emotional in the sense that I was crying all day. But more in the sense that the loss of a parent, or of someone you love, can move you to another place where you look at things differently, a little deeper… where you’re moved to see people differently, even for a little while.

During and after the funeral Mass mostly, I was left with the want, the need, perhaps the realization, that I wanted to connect with people. It seems I was “seeing” them in a different way – a deeper way – in a much more real way.

I bet you’re still wondering what this may have to do with Pentecost?

I think by now many of you have seen the movie “Avatar”. In the movie, the people who populate this fictional planet – the Na’vi – greet each other with a specific phrase. “I see you”. Here’s a part of an article- using the movie to talk about the differences between Pantheism, Panentheism, and how these relate to the monotheistic interpretations of traditional religions. The author is Jay Michaelson, an Jewish author who seems to focus on things spiritual. The article was published in the Huffington Post, on December 22^nd, 2009, and is entitled “The Meaning Of Avatar: Everything is God (A Response to Ross Douthat And Other Naysayers of “Pantheism)”. Here’s the part of the article I’m referring to…

“In the Na'Vi cosmology, what's really happening is the Ai'Wa in me is connecting with the Ai'Wa in you. This is echoed in their greeting, "I see you," a direct translation of the Sanskrit Namaste, which means the same thing. ("Avatar" is also from the Sanskrit, though the film plays on the word's two meanings of an image used in a role-playing game, and a deity appearing on Earth.) As the Na'Vi explain in the film, though, "I see you" doesn't mean ordinary seeing - it, like Namaste, really means "the God in me sees the God in you." I see Myself, in your eyes.“

Are you still wondering what this all has to do with Pentecost?

Pentecost celebrates the idea of the Holy Spirit primarily through the story of the Holy Spirit descending on the disciples on that day in Jerusalem, and they began speaking in tongues. A case can certainly be made (and many theologians have) that this is the beginning of the “church”. And yet I’m left with the results of a rather profound experience… something that we’ll all face, have faced, and will face.

Truly – what we have – can be boiled down to an essence: we want to connect with someone, somehow, someway. And we want to recognize that there is “divine” in us and around us.

This past Friday, I went to see Jeff Swope (I have Jeff and Donna’s permission to use this story). As you know, he has been struggling with cancer and the effects of cancer, for a few years now. When I entered their house, he was sitting on the couch. I walked around to be in front of him, extending my right hand to shake and hug. He grasped my hand with both of his, held my hand, kissed the back of my hand, and held it to his forehead. I’m sure he didn’t know, but in many cultures what he did was a gesture of blessing. I’m nor often greeted that way- being blessed like that! It was one whole person being greeted by another whole person… in a most spirit-filled way!

Now do you see the connection with Pentecost?

I know, it’s hard to go through our whole days with this mindset – tuned in like this. It’s hard to set our hearts in this way. We have deadlines, arguments, rush hour, routines, errands, and all the normal stuff… things that make “seeing” someone, really seeing them, their essence – their life history wrapped up in who they are – there in front of you at that very moment – difficult! It’s not like that all the time! Maybe it’s to hard for us! But sometimes, in some places we want to be like that, we are like that. And that, Holy Brother and Holy Sisters… is also Pentecost!

Here’s a “poem” (I think) from a person named Oriah Mountain Dreamer – (her name is a story all its own. See here – look under the section “The Name” to learn about it – http://www.oriahmountaindreamer.com/ ). She says it in different words than many of us might have used… here it is:

The Invitation

by Oriah Mountain Dreamer, Indian Elder

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your hearts longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals, or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true, I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me who you are, or how you came to be here- I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

May 1994

There are people in some of our churches that do not like to share the Peace! For whatever reason, some people mostly want to leave others alone, and want to be left alone. Sometimes it’s okay – it’s right – it fits – to be left alone! But… not here! Not on Sunday mornings! When we share the Peace, when we greet people… don’t forget… there’s more than just what you see in front of you! There’s a whole life-story there. There’s a mind, a body, a soul, a spirit, there… and it’s all holy! And if we look and listen closely enough – it’ll remind us of Pentecost!

God Bless you all!

In memorium

2011-06-15T09:17:00.002-04:00

I tried to post this about a week or more back- but for some reason it didn't make it, and I didn't want to spend the time to get it up and out. But I did post it on FaceBook, and here it is from there.

In memory of my father - who died early morning of June 2nd, just after midnight... Simple Haiku style...

Rivers still flowing
Old memories left behind
I must say goodbye

I love you!

Sacred Space Tue evening May 31st

2011-05-31T00:11:00.001-04:00

Folks,

A reminder about Sacred Space…

We know most of us have busy lives. We know that most of us do not have too many places we can go to find some quiet time, some reflective time, some time with ourselves, some time with God.

Knowing this, we hope this time is beneficial for you

We’ve tried to make this time a time to help find that center again.

We’ve tried to help you re-connect with what’s important for you, re-connect with God, with that voice within, with the sacred in all the other ways in which we might encounter the sacred by opening up some space.

…If you can make it, I hope this time is a blessing to you!

Abiding Savior Lutheran Church – Columbia MD

Tuesday, May 31st

7PM

Memorial Day Sunday Sermon

2011-05-30T11:24:00.004-04:00

Tomorrow is Memorial Day

Memorial Day used to be called Decoration Day- because people would travel to the grave sides of fallen service members and decorate and clean their graves. And even have picnics at the grave side.

Memorial Day is one of those National days of Remembrance. We are invited to Remember! We are invited to remember the names and faces, and lives of those who offered themselves; whether selflessly or not, whether angrily, bitterly, dutifully, honorably, or not, gave up their lives while in Uniform.

Maybe we might no one or two names of people killed in combat – maybe 1 or 2 lives that touched ours – maybe 1 or 2 faces we remember.

Why ought we remember? Well, there certainly is an obvious patriotic element to this. There’s the theme of selfless duty in service to the greater good.

Certainly it is an honorable theme indeed. But we should also remember they were men and women just like you and I – like our brothers and sisters. In a way, like our family.

I didn’t think I would be “preaching” on the significance of Memorial Day. At least not in a civilian parish. There is not one word here about Jesus or God or the Holy Spirit – and yet what I am saying here is indeed sacred to me!

I want you to know a few people, just a few of many, worth remembering:

U S Army Specialist Lori Piestewa was killed in the same Iraqi Army attack in which fellow soldiers Shoshana Johnson, and Jessica Lynch sustained injuries. A member of the Hopi tribe,

Piestewa was the first woman in the United States Armed Forces killed in the 2003 invasion of Iraq and the first Native American woman in history to die in combat while serving in the United States Military.

This comes from the prologue of the book We Were Soldiers Once, And Young, by Harold Moore, the Bn Commander of the 7^th Cavalry, who led the attack in the battle of Ia Drang Valley, November 1965,

and the co-author, Joseph Galloway, the combat photographer that accompanied them in the battle:

So once, just this once, this is how it all began, what it was really like, what it meant to us and what we meant to each other. It was no movie. When it was over the dead did not get up and dust

themselves off and walk away. The wounded did not wash away the red and go on with life unhurt. Those who were, miraculously, unscratched were by no means untouched. Not one of us left Vietnam

the same young man he was when he arrived.

This story, then, is our testament, and our tribute to 234 young Americans who died beside us during four days in Landing Zone X-Ray and Landing Zone Albany in the Valley of Death, 1965. That is

more Americans than were killed in any regiment, north or south, at the Battle of Gettysburg, and far more than were killed in combat in the entire Persian Gulf War. Seventy more of our comrades died

in the Ia Drang in desperate skirmishes before and after the big battles at X-Ray and Albany. All the names, 305 of them, are engraved on the third panel to the right of the apex, Panel 3-East, of the

Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C., and on our hearts. This is also the story of the suffering of families whose lives were forever shattered by the death of a father, a son, a husband, a brother in that Valley.

While those who have never known war may fail to see the logic, this story also stands as tribute to the hundreds of young men of the 320th, 33rd and 66th Regiments of the Peoples Army of Vietnam

who died by our hand in that place. They, too, fought and died bravely. They were a worthy enemy. We who killed them pray that their bones were recovered from that wild, desolate place where we left them,

and taken home for decent and honorable burial. This is our story and theirs. For we were soldiers once, and young.

Another story of a fallen hero comes from the journal entry of LtCol Michael Strobl. He escorted the body of Marine Lance Corporal Chance Phelps, of the 3^rd Battalion, 11^th Marine Regiment, killed in action in mahmudiya Iraq on 9 April 2004.

Taking Chance

By U.S. Marine Corps Lieutenant Colonel Michael Strobl

When we arrived at Billings, I was the first off the plane. The funeral director had driven five hours up from Riverton, Wyoming, to meet us. He shook my hand as if I had personally lost a brother.

I picked up my rental car and followed Chance for the five hours back to Riverton. During the long trip I imagined how my meeting with Chance's parents would go. I didn't know anything about Chance Phelps;

not even what he looked like. I wondered about his family and what it would be like to meet them. I was very nervous about that.

When we finally arrived at the funeral home, I felt I needed to inspect Chance's uniform to ensure everything was proper.

Earlier in the day I wasn't sure how I'd handle this moment. Suddenly, the casket was open and I got my first look at Chance Phelps. His uniform was immaculate—a tribute to the professionalism

of the Marines at Dover. I noticed that he wore six ribbons over his marksmanship badge; the senior one was his Purple Heart. I had been in the Corps for more than seventeen years, including a combat

tour, and was wearing eight ribbons. This private first class, with less than a year in the Corps, had already earned six.

The next morning, I wore my dress blues and followed the hearse for the trip up to Dubois, population about 900, some ninety miles away. This was the most difficult leg of our trip for me.

I was bracing for the moment when I would meet his parents and hoping I would find the right words as I presented them with Chance's personal effects. We got to the high school about four

hours before the service was to begin.

In short order I met Chance's step-mom and father, followed by his step-dad and, at last, his mom.

I told them about our trip. I told them how, at every step, Chance was treated with respect, dignity, and honor. I didn't know how to express to these people my sympathy for their loss and my

gratitude for their sacrifice. Now, however, they were repeatedly thanking me for bringing their son home and for my service. I was humbled beyond words.

The service was a fitting tribute to this hero. When it was over, we stood as the casket was wheeled out with the family following. The casket was placed onto a horse-drawn carriage for the

mile-long trip from the gym, down the main street, then up the steep hill to the cemetery. I stood alone and saluted as the carriage departed the high school.

All along the route, people had lined the street and were waving small American flags. The flags that were otherwise posted were all at half-staff. For the last quarter mile up the hill, local boy scouts,

spaced about twenty feet apart, all in uniform, held large flags. At the foot of the hill, I could look up and back and see how enormous the procession was. I wondered how many people would be at this

funeral if it were in, say, Detroit or Los Angeles—probably not as many as were here in little Dubois, Wyoming.

The carriage stopped about fifteen yards from the grave. Once the entire crowd was in place, the pallbearers came to attention and began to remove the casket from the caisson. As I had done all week,

I came to attention and executed a slow ceremonial salute as Chance was being transferred from one mode of transport to another.

From Dover to Philadelphia, Philadelphia to Minneapolis, Minneapolis to Billings, Billings to Riverton, and Riverton to Dubois, we had been together. Now, as I watched them carry him the final fifteen yards,

I was choking up. I felt that, as long as he was still moving, he was somehow still alive. Then they positioned him over his grave. He had stopped moving.

Now, he was home to stay and I suddenly felt at once sad, relieved, and useless. It had been my honor to take Chance Phelps to his final post. Now he is on the high ground overlooking his town.

I miss him.

In one of my past lives in the Army, as a Chaplain, I had the real honor of laying a fellow soldier to rest. As I knelt down on one knee, looking into the eyes of his widow and presenting her with the folded flag, I spoke these words – solemn, holy words – words spoken by many, many, officers before me:

“On behalf of the President of the United States and the people of a grateful nation, may I present this flag as a token of appreciation for the honorable and faithful service your loved one rendered this nation.”

In 2009 I ran the Marine Corps Marathon. It finished just steps away from the Iwo Jima Memorial. In the memorial there are the figures of six men raising a pole with an American flag on it.

This commemorates the raising of the second American flag on Mount Suribachi, during the battle of Iwo Jima in 1945. Of the six men pictured in the famous photograph, and subsequent statue,

three were killed in action. Sergeant Michael Strank was killed six days later by a shell, likely fired from an offshore American destroyer. Corporal Harlan Block was killed a few hours later by a mortar shell.

And Private First Class Franklin Sousley was killed by an enemy sniper on March 21^st, a few days before the island was declared secure.

And a way in which the fallen are honored by some of their own:

The Tomb of the Unknowns in Arlington, where the bodies of some unidentified warriors from a few of our wars are guarded - honorably - remembered not for who they were, but for what they did.

The tomb of the Unknowns has been guarded continuously, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, since July 2, 1937. Inclement weather does not cause the watch to cease. The tomb Guards are part of a special platoon within the 3rd Infantry Regiment (The Old Guard). It is considered one of the highest honors to serve as a ceremonial guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns. Fewer than 20% of all volunteers are accepted for training, and of those only a fraction pass training to become full-fledged Tomb Guards. "The Sentinels", as they are called, do not wear rank insignia on their uniforms so they do not out-rank the unknowns, whatever rank they might have been.

There is a meticulous ritual the Guard follows when watching over the graves:

The soldier walks 21 steps across the tomb. This alludes to the 21 gun salute, which is the highest honor given to any military or foreign dignitary in America. Their weapon is always on the shoulder opposite the tomb.
On the 21st step, the soldier turns and faces the tomb for 21 seconds.
The soldier then turns and faces the other way, across the tomb, and changes his or her weapon to the outside shoulder.
After 21 seconds, the first step is repeated.

This is ritual is repeated until the soldier is relieved of duty at the changing of the guard.

They do this to honor the dead soldier, sailor, airman or marine who died in combat in service to their country. They do this as a fellow brother in arms.

Why do we honor these dead soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines? Why do people commemorate battles with huge blocks of marble, or shape rock in the form of famous generals on horse-back? Or build statues- like the ones in Gettysburg, or paint scenes of battles, or chisel names in granite like the one on the Mall in DC commemorating the soldiers who died in Vietnam? Why do we do this?

We do this, because the lives of those men and women meant something to someone. We do this because we want to honor their memory and their lives, no matter who they might have been, or how they might have lived their lives.

We have a few of these collective national days of remembrance that come around year after year. But they seem to be drowned out by the freedom we have to go shopping, or to enjoy the day in the

company of friends and family, or watch TV. These things aren’t bad. But to never remember… because we’re out there shopping or having fun or watching TV… is not good.

To never remember those who have given of themselves for the greater good does not do justice to their lives and deaths.

I have heard it said that today, in these wars we find ourselves in, the military is at war… but the country is not. During this time of war the military men and women are often asked to go up to their

psychological, spiritual, and emotional limits… and sometimes beyond. Frankly, there is a lot asked of these brave men and women. Throughout our history they have answered the call of duty for

patriotic reasons, for personal reasons, for financial reason, or who knows how many other reasons. And thousands upon thousands have died in answer to that call. Would that our country faced

no more wars, so our men and women would no longer die in this way. And yet they still serve, and they still die!

The least we can do is remember!

Most recent visit to South America

2011-05-17T09:28:00.003-04:00

So I've just come back from visiting my parents in South America. And it wasn't necessarily a "good" trip. I'd gotten a call from my mother about a week before I left that my father was in the ICU at one of the hospitals around where they live. It seems he was admitted with a severe cough and trouble breathing and all the attendant issues with that (pale skin, lack of movement, tiredness, etc). In succeeding conversations with my mother and the docs, it turned out that he had a pretty bad case of pneumonia, and had to be treated with an aggressive antibiotic treatment. He had to be on a respirator, and have a feeding tube put in, along with a whole bunch of other things as well. He may have aspirated something in to his lungs as a result of dementia most likely. Dementia can often cause the disintegration of the neural and electrical pathways that tell the body what to do. So even the autonomic functions, such as the ability to swallow and other automatic activity- things we do without thinking - start to fall apart. And this may have been a result of some physical diminishment. Even if he got something in his lungs again, he doesn't have the strength to cough and get it out. The doc's say it's pretty likely he may very well get out sometime soon - he's doing a lot better... in the short term... but in the long term, the picture may not be as rosie.

Well, I'm not sure what to do, or even what to think of this. So I've just learned to settle with what is. So- I've decided to write about this... so I wrote a Haiku poem about the diminishment of his cognitive ability (I'm very attracted to the simplicity and sort of austerity of the discipline), and then something after the last day I saw him- the day before I left.

Falling unattached

disassembled memories

bridges slowly burn

Last visit with my father - May 11th 2011

It's hard to hug - too many wires and tubes, too many monitors that angrily beep when crimped - monitoring vitals; heart rate, O2 saturation, respiration rate, tubes delivering nutrition and medications, the trache tube.

Possibly some more lucid moments today. I hope I get through his fog more today. It's time to go- I pause - time to say goodbye. I'm leaving tomorrow! He's lying there - looks like my father. A snap-shot in time! My father - father's and sons. A long moment- and archetypal moment. All the years, all the memories - crowding their way in. All seeming to want to be present to say Good-bye. Today was a good day - but does he know I'm here?

What do you say to someone you may never see again? What do you say to your father?

I've already asked my grandfather- his father- whom he adored, whom he loved dearly and had a very, very good father-son relationship with - to watch over him when it's time, to help him have clarity of mind so he can pass solidly and strongly into the next world. Lord, may his dementia die as well when it's time, so he can see the next world with clear eyes and a clear perception. I've already anointed him, praying for his healing.

"I'll see you on the other side", I say - seemed like the right thing. This is a moment - frozen - bracketed - holding off the regular current, as other moments pass by - other moments of life with him - father-son stuff; the struggles, the joys, the "regular" moments - start popping up one after the other.

He still breathes. He's been slowly dying for years now. But it's more real now. "I love you!" He doesn't respond. He's still looking away. Doesn't matter though. As I walk away - to the end of the bed,a few steps past - I look back - wave - "Bye, Pa." Still nothing - yet.

I walk away, taking my memories with me. Before I reach the entrance to the hospital, a path I've walked every day for two weeks, I have to stop and write this! I know exactly where to sit - but not exactly what to write. But I remember.

Today's Easter Homily

2011-04-24T20:57:00.001-04:00

A few years back, when I was Associate Pastor at another church, the other pastor and I would alternate the Easter Sermon. When it was his turn to preach, he would get up on Easter morning and head over to the nearest place to pick up the latest copy of the daily tabloid to see what unearthly or un-natural events were “news”. There’d probably be something about Elvis’ love baby, or something about aliens, or who-knows-what-else. He’d pick the most outlandish story and bring it to church and start his sermon with that – Totally out there… but “true”. This would be the pre-cursor to the story of the dead itinerant Jewish preacher/miracle worker, who was killed by the Romans, and came back to life again – perhaps equally outlandish to some! Totally out there… but true.

Yet, back then, in the Ancient Near Eastern religions, this idea was not quite as outlandish as first thought. Many religions at and before the time of Jesus, particularly in that part of the world, (Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Persian, Babylonian [at least]) had stories of a “God-man” dying, and rising again. Some of these stories are eerily similar to our story of Jesus.

I’d brought up this idea before in other places, that all the themes we might have in Christianity have appeared somewhere else in other religions, other places;

the eating of a sacred meal, a ritual cleansing with water, the special prophecies announcing the birth of a “God-man”, the supernatural birth of the “God-man”, the death of the “God-man”, and the resurrection of the “God-man”, the eating of the flesh of the “God-man”, and many other ideas. (The themes seem to be the same, although the theological overlays might differ). So in one sense it’s not as outlandish as first thought.

I talked about this at one church and one of the people listening commented something like, “but we’ve (meaning Christianity) cleaned the stories up.” The idea seemed to me like we Christians were needed to legitimize these ideas, almost like we were needed to “make them right”.

Here’s my take on all these stories; We could ask – why do these themes keep coming up across cultures? I don’t know any culture that doesn’t have some kind of ritual cleansing with water. Could be that deep-down, we recognize water as a gift! And it can certainly be used for cleansing. I’ll bet there’s been at least one time in your life where you may have used water to help clean your soul – metaphorically speaking – to wash away something you’ve needed to cleanse yourself from.

Why does the idea of God/the divine/the Sacred being coming to earth in human form keep coming back up? I’d say it’s because we have always been drawn to connect with that which we identify as grander than ourselves! I’d say it’s because we have always believed we are not alone! I’d say it’s because we have always believed – perhaps since the dawn of humanity – that whatever it is we believe is out there… is calling us to be connection with it!

Have we “cleaned” these stories up? I guess you can think that if you want to… can’t hurt I suppose.

But I see millennia upon millennia, generations upon generations, of our human ancestors reaching… connecting… lifting hands, voices, hearts – in whatever way they knew how, in the way they came to understand… the Grand Creator, what the people called the Sacred Mystery. It makes our lives just that much more sacred!

So we tell the story of Jesus- his life, his ministry, his death, and his resurrection – as an act of faith… as an act of hope!

We tell this story because – as outlandish as we think it may be – it’s a story that has been flowing through the veins of our ancestors… and now flows in ours as well. It’s a story that has been transmitted from generation to generation in the DNA of faith – however understood… since the beginning!

So here we stand- telling this story once again, hearing this story once again, a story that has been told and re-told across eons about a God come down to earth, who lived in human form as one of us, who died as one of us, and who was raised up again. I could ask – what does this tell you about God? And we could talk about this. But another question might be- what does this tell you about you and me? What does believing in the resurrection of Jesus tell you about you? About your life? Your faith? Your humanity? At the very least is says you believe in a God of Life!

Do you believe in resurrection? I do! Do you believe in a God that can bring New Life? I do! I’ve seen it too many times to NOT believe! Today we celebrate Life. Death is not the final answer! In the midst of mourning and loss… we can look up! In the midst of doubt… we can look up! In the midst of struggle… we can look up!

This is the ultimate “tomorrow is a new day” story! Today we don’t do it alone! We celebrate together – as our ancestors did in the dawn of time, in the ancient days. There IS a God! And this is a God of life!

So we say, with all faith and hope- Alleluia, Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia!

Happy Easter to you… and God bless you!

Holy Week Meditation

2011-04-20T10:34:00.002-04:00

Rumi was a Sufi mystic who expressed his mysticism more often in his poetry.

Here is a poem of his printed in a book entitled, “Life Prayers”, under the section - “The Dark Night of the Soul”.

The Dark Night of the Soul- And yet here in Spring, can we even have the Dark Night of the Soul?

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning is a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

Some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of it’s furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

– Rumi

This week

2011-04-17T23:42:00.001-04:00

We’re in Holy Week, that time on the church year where we focus specifically on the final days and hours of Jesus Christ.

How different will this Holy Week be from others you’ve experienced in the past? For that matter, how different is this week from any other? I’m sure you’ve “been there-done that” many times before. I’m sure that, in the grand scheme, this week may not be that different from other weeks.

Our lives have joy for sure! We have people, places, events, memories, in our lives we can look at and smile! For sure.

But perhaps in this week, we bring out the story of injustice, of the scapegoat, of pain and deep sorrows, re-directed in “sacred story”… and re-tell it. We re-tell it perhaps almost as a way to focus our tears and pain. We tell this story of suffering… but also of redemption! …Of pain… but also of healing!

We tell this story! We tell it in our hearts. We tell it in our own lives… every year. We tell it in the words not spoken. We tell it in the weary lines of our faces. We tell it in the unpacked boxes of our lives. We tell it in the not-telling of this story – the stories we dare not speak lest the images crack a bit more. We tell it… over and over… Lord, we tell it, let us tell it! Let us speak this story, Lord… in the story of Jesus. Let his story be ours… this week.

Lord, let this week speak to us! Let this week be something we live through! Let our living through this be the refiner’s fire. Lord, let our anger… our pain… our brokenness… come up and be identified… when the time is right. Let this week be a time to drop all our stuff on the story of Jesus- his pain, his suffering, his consequences.

And as this story progresses, let it lead us to redemption and resurrection… if not next week, then maybe next month, or next year. And let us re-tell this next year again!

Lord, let this week be different for us.

I pray this with tears in my eyes for all those who are in pain. Let us tell this story together.

This week, let’s hang on to each other, looking at the story of Jesus’ final days and hours.

This week… let’s be together- present in body, spirit, or heart. This week… let’s mourn together our unspoken losses. This week… let’s grieve the emptiness of broken memories. Lord, let’s be together this week.

And let’s look up together once more… let’s look up together once more.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRMz8fKkG2g

This week… let’s look up together!

Amen!

God bless you!

Words from Yesterday

2011-04-11T19:56:00.001-04:00

Yesterday’s Story of Resurrection… Jesus brings Lazarus back from the dead… is certainly an Easter story isn’t it! And we have Easter coming up in just a few weeks!

It’s a story of New Life! I can talk about that! I love talking about that! I’ve told that story! And we’ve heard about stories like that a few years ago. We invited people to come and share their stories of resurrection in the season after Easter.

We heard stories of people who came back to life again after events such as war, where there was a real fear of death! And from someone in Living Word, we heard a story of a change in the seasons of life – of someone who was looking at the ending of one career and the beginning of another one- although they both share in aspects of science and art, yet one was more centered around the sciences, and the other centered around the arts.

We recognize the gifts of blessings along the way in the season of Resurrection!

But what about us? What about not squandering our gifts… what about not squandering what we’ve been given?

I look at us here, in this community and this culture – we’ve been given so much! So much opportunity, so many choices. And I think… “don’t squander this!”

I look at my younger years and remember the quote – “Youth is wasted on the young!” Perhaps I would have taken more opportunities as they came my way… if only I’d have the benefit of hindsight!

When I was in my early twenties, I had the opportunity to sign up for US Army Jungle School in Panama- two fun filled weeks in the jungles of Panama! Well, as it turned out, the school was full- but they put my name down as the alternate. So if anyone on the list could not go, I would be next. So they offered me a chance for a three-week Troop Leader Training in Schofield Barracks, Hawaii. About a month before my time for Hawaii, someone came to me saying a slot had opened up at Jungle School, and did I want to go there instead of Hawaii? “No”, I said, “I’ll stick with Hawaii.” Now, look back on that wishing I’d taken the gig in the jungle.

Now this is not a huge regret, but knowing what I know now, I would have chosen differently.

But what about the other opportunities we have placed in front of us? Through blessing or pain, we sometimes have opportunities placed before us… here’s a story from the Saturday Morning NPR program “Weekend Edition with Scott Simon”.

When Derrick Lemon was 8 years old in 1994, he saw two boys throw his 5-year-old brother, Eric Morse, out of a window of the Chicago housing project in which they lived.

Derrick tried to stop them. But the boys bit and scratched him. He ran down 14 flights of stairs to try to catch his little brother. But Eric died.

The boys, who were 10 and 11, also stabbed and beat Eric and became the youngest people in U.S. history to be jailed for murder.

The case shocked and saddened people around the world. A fund was started for Derrick Lemon, to help support a troubled boy who had tried to save his brother, and whose mother was strung out on drugs.

Lemon is 24 now. This week, he was sent to prison for 71 years for murdering a man named Illya Glover. Lemon was choking his own aunt at a family gathering when Glover, a neighbor, tried to stop him. Lemon shot him.

Derrick Lemon's attorneys argued that he had grown up a casualty of a singularly cruel crime. But Judge Thomas Hennelly told his courtroom, "People experience tragedy in this building every day — mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers. ... It doesn't give someone carte blanche to act like a bully and a brute and act like he's above the law."

And Illya Glover's daughter Crystal asked Lemon, "Why did you do this to my dad? ... You know how it feels to lose a loved one."

Derrick Lemon got more than $1 million after his family sued the Chicago Housing Authority for not securing the windows in the housing project. But even before his brother's death, he had skipped school, picked fights and ran with gangs. He was convicted of burglary when he was 18 and got probation. While awaiting trial for the murder of Illya Glover, he was arrested for threatening someone with a gun.

Illya's sister, Gail Glover, said of Derrick Lemon, "he got all this money and he could have done something. ... Instead he wanted to hang out on the corner."

Justice required the judge to deliver a sentence that will prevent Lemon from hurting or killing another human being, and to levy the most severe punishment possible in Illinois for the worst crime. Glover's family may point out that it's still hardly as harsh as murder.

But you can look at Derrick Lemon and wonder how he might have stopped himself from leaping headlong into the same spiral of violence that killed the brother he had once tried so bravely to save.

It’s a bitter story to hear! It’s a story of choices leading up to some terrible outcomes. It’s a hard story to hear- bitter endings for a young man with such possibilities!

I can look at my kid’s lives – and see they are given the gift of time! And I want to say- “Don’t squander this opportunity!”

I wonder what the old trees would say to us as we pass by beneath their towering limbs, day-in and day-out… with our plans, and our ideas, and our decisions?

Is the permanent sky impassive to our choices? Are the clouds the sky’s way of saying “DON’T PASS THIS UP!”

Or is thunder God’s way of telling us to WAKE UP! To open our eyes to what is before us! To see what is in front of us!

Choose resurrection!

There really is so much to say about resurrection- about choosing the paths of life! To be honest, I can only say so much about this! So I’ll focus on taking opportunities… because although so many of us have them… there are many that don’t!

Take something from this… anything. Even if it’s just something little. Use it to remind you to live! Live well!

We do need reminders… when we’re dry bones (like the first reading from Ezekiel – remember, the valley full of dry bones, and God called Ezekiel to prophesy to them, and they came back to life!)…

…Remember the Spirit of God! Remember life in front of you! Remember the Spirit of God!

Life is way too short! Choose the path that leads out of the tomb… and into the glory of God!

God bless you!

Lenten Message

2011-04-11T19:55:00.001-04:00

Heard a prayer on an NPR program yesterday – Carrie Newcomber, a Quaker song-writer, was interviewed on a show called Interfaith Voices. She shared a prayer a friend taught her… a prayer that seems to fit at the end of the day. It’s supposed to help one recognize ones accomplishments while being aware of ones limitations, take a breath and let go of that which needs to be let go of.

What has been done, has been done. What has not been done, has not been done. Let it be! Amen!

May it bless you!

Lenten Message

2011-04-04T21:51:00.002-04:00

I’m part of a very blessed clergy group here in Columbia. I’m the lone Lutheran – there’s a couple of United Church of Christ pastors and one Episcopalian priest, and me. And yet… I fear not! It’s blessed because the conversation is honest, real. The conversation covers issues related to our families, our ministries, our work, our projects- we bounce things off each other, we seek guidance from each other, we seek good counsel. And they are each very experienced not only in ministry, but in life… wisdom tempered with grace and compassion.

I leave there each month with at least a nugget or two of some practical idea, some wise advice, or some profound thought. We met today, and I have again departed from that holy place and time with something worth remembering!

Remember yesterday’s Gospel reading was from the Gospel of John… Jesus uses his otherworldly power to bring sight to a man born blind. Not a bad thing, to perform a miracle! “He’s a man of God!” However the juxtaposition here comes from the perspective of those following the traditional Jewish practices... in this case observing the Sabbath. Jesus heals the man on a Sabbath. He has broken a rule! Rules are there to help us make sense of life, of God. They bring order to our lives for sure, in many ways. Therefore, at least from this perspective: “He’s a sinner!”

Now the Jewish tradition honors the Sabbath… it’s holy. It’s ostensibly a time of rest, of centeredness, of remembering your place before God and the world. Thus the idea behind the rule that any thing and any activity that distracts us from that which helps us recognize the presence of the divine is to be avoided. In our action-packed, electronic-gadget-filled, e-mail-twitter-Facebook world, this honestly doesn’t seem like a bad thing to avoid… at least ONE day a week!

So, to be honest, observing the Sabbath is not a bad thing! Well, this has historically entailed not working. What exactly “not working” means has been up for interpretation over the years and among the people. But evidently the ones who seemed the most critical of Jesus, at least in this Gospel, seemed to be ones that had a very high regard for order and rules. Now to be honest, to the Jewish people, there is something to be said for being clear about their identity. In the history of the Israelites, they’d lived among and around many different peoples, with such disparate customs and practices… and the fear (and in some Jewish circles still remains) was that they might lose their distinctiveness… unless they made some effort to live their beliefs – beliefs that were often quite different from the panoply of choices out there.

In the Gospel story, the “Pharisees” are very angry at Jesus (again), for seeming to flaunt the rules, for dismissing a practice that, among others, made them part of the Hebrew people. Today- what makes you a Jew is how you live your life… belief is not a far second, but a second none-the-less. Orthopraxy (right action - basically how you live your faith) trumps orthodoxy (right belief - or, what you believe). I'd probably even go so far as to say that, as a Jew, it’s through orthopraxy that one can demonstrate one’s orthodoxy.

Jesus was not living into the practices of his ancestors – at least not in this story! He was not honoring that which made them Hebrew! And in a world with a tenuous hold on stability… in a world where the Romans ruled, and could do what they willed, when they willed, Jesus was certainly threatening their corner of the world they lived in.

Today, in our discussion, I was reminded how threatening Jesus’ actions may have been to some. Did they not like that he healed people? Did they not respect that a rabbi was able to bring sight to a blind person? I have to think it obviously wasn’t that simple. Jesus couldn't have been to ONLY one that had different thoughts or beliefs? He couldn't have been the ONLY one that interpreted his faith differently?

They were afraid of change! They were afraid change would change them… and in a world of potential political, economic and religious change… this was a threat!

We live in a world like that! In our world of activity and constant motion, and economic change, and insecurities of various kinds… we’re more prone to hold on to whatever ideas and ideologies are important to us in times of change. It’s hard for us to risk in times of change. We want to hold on to our beliefs and customs because they offer the stability we crave. “This, at least, doesn’t change!” – Whatever “this” is.

Got me to thinking… what belief, what ideology, what doctrine (personal, religious, political, or otherwise) has become so important to us… that it has become an inadvertent obstacle to God’s presence and action in our lives? It’s easy to look at those terrible, close-minded Pharisees and point fingers at them – “they didn’t get it!” – but not even question our own assumptions.

How are we “Pharisees”? This is in no way an original question! I’m not making any new statements here for sure… just an invitation for us, during this time of Lent, to hold up our “sacred cows” in full light of day and see if we’re missing the boat in part or in whole... and perhaps offer them up as gourmet burgers.

Bon appetite!

The March... continued

2011-04-03T21:18:00.006-04:00

There's more to this interesting event for sure!

The four of us that went to this event are part of a Home Church group. This evening the rest of the group graciously allowed us to take some time to share - in an informal, yet ritualized, setting, and thus process in a more holistic sense - this marathon event. For that I am grateful.

In many indigenous cultures, after some powerful, transformative event, the group would invite the participants to come and talk about their experiences - whether it was something as "simple" as a dream (you know, the significant one, the visions), or as complex as men returning from combat. This not only cemented their connections to their people; their family, clan, or tribe, but the act of speaking their piece allowed them to "get out" any lingering damaging effects. Today we would call this Critical Incident Stress Management (a science in its own right!). It also allowed the participants to ritually de-compress, to detoxify, and re-integrate into their people in a more whole way.

So this is what our Home Church group did for us tonight in allowing us to speak about this profoundly moving event. After our opening rituals, we started this portion of our evening together with some sharing. We took some time to share a few words about the event from our own personal perspectives. Each in turn - those who went, and those that stayed here - shared. Maybe it was a statement of the effect it had on us, or maybe it was a question. But each of us shared as we were moved to share. And we had some space (about 5-10 seconds) between each speaker to allow the words to sink in.

We are now almost exactly a week removed from the event; a week of time for us to make some personal sense of what that was like. A week of time removed to intellectually and emotionally make some meaning of this.

In community, we talked, used various descriptors, shared. Some good words were spoken then. And the descriptor that has more meaning to me than others is "Rite of Passage". That phrase seems so loaded with meaning. We, today, want meaning... badly! We search for it, perhaps often unbeknownst to ourselves even. We often think of them as events like graduations, like first jobs, like first homes, etc. Sometimes the places in our lives that are recognized as "rites of passage" are void of any healthy meaning - such as prison, or our "first" DWI, or our first kill (if we're in a gang)

Or if these rites of passage are religious in nature, they might be lacking real and meaningful significance - such as Confirmation or Bar/Bat Mitzvah. It's not that these rituals have NO meaning, but that these religious rituals perhaps don't seem to go far enough in their boldness or challenge, and are more intellectual or academic in nature.

What are some characteristics of "rites of passage"? Well, not having researched this, but going off my gut and brain, I'd say there are a few things that make for true or deep rites of passage:

Perhaps they involve a challenge of some kind - usually physical. A "test" - or maybe the "testing" is more what the young students might face in school. And school might not have the same sense of rite-of-passage as I'm talking about.

Perhaps they involve some sort of an experience that invites transformation. When you're done with a "rite of passage", like in the old days perhaps... you're changed. Now, granted, you're still the same person, but through the rite of passage, if done well, you've grown, you've become something more than you were... something to grow into as well.

Perhaps they are communal in nature - meaning they are done as individuals, but done in a communal context. You don't endure them just for yourself, but also for the benefit of, and inclusion of, the community. For good or for ill, you are a product of your people.

To me, this event, without the desire to over inflate it, was a rite of passage! It certainly was a physical challenge... one that tested us. And speaking of "us", it was certainly communal. I did it. But I did it with others. And it was transformative. We are all changed as a result of this. And I'm glad I did this.

Here I think I've over-done this stuff... blogging about this event over and over. But alas, it is my blog. And I can write about what I want, and use it to make sense of my own personal stuff... It's all about me! ha-ha. 'Course the other thing is- nobody wants to hear me talk anyway, and I'm probably the only one that reads this blog, so... allow me to work things out here! Cheaper than a shrink I guess! Wadda ya gonna do!?!?

Lenten Message

2011-04-01T19:37:00.001-04:00

A good, deep, poem that stands on its own:

I love the dark hours of my being.

My mind deepens into them.

There I can find, as in old letters,

the days of my life already lived,

and held like a legend, and understood.

Then the knowing comes: I can open

to another life that’s wide and timeless.

So I am sometimes like a tree

rustling over a gravesite

and making real the dream

of the one its living roots embrace:

a dream once lost

among the sorrows and songs.

– Rainer Maria Rilke

(Translated by Anita Barrows and Joanna Marcy)

Lenten Message

2011-03-31T12:12:00.001-04:00

Here’s a poem by Mark Van Doren

Captain, you know my sins.

You kept the log; you cannot have forgotten

That sleeping at the wheel. We did not founder,

And yet I closed my eyes, and a wave came

So broadside, we shivered.

Master on sea, on land, you know my weakness:

Sloth, and a love of slumber;

Days wasted, beautiful deeds

Not done when I could have done them.

Or could I? Who can say? Breathe now

The truth upon me, even if it

Blasts me.

Now is the time, the midnight hour

When I am low,

Am longing to confess.

Or wait till I grow proud again, the memory

Of all this gone from me. If it is better thus,

Smite them. You are the swordsman,

I am the receiver. As you will,

O, executioner with lifted arm.

My neck is bare.

Is this about guilt? About living with something done or undone, etched in the rock of time, that cannot be changed? Is it about being ready to change?

Below is a video from a group called Creed – the song “My Own Prison”, is probably over 10 years old. And by the lyrics you can probably figure out it’s about “guilt”… the guilt we carry around with us, the effects of it, etc. We all carry a burden or two – things we should have done but didn’t, a memory of some actions or words, etc., something that comes with us from place to place. And it’s about feeling imprisoned by them… about being judged and sentenced by them.

It may not be obvious all the time, but in the quiet moments, these memories can make their presence known.

The video clip comes from a movie called “Return to Paradise”, with Anne Heche, Vince Vaughn, and Joaquin Phoenix - about a couple of friends (Phoenix and Vaughn) who end up transporting drugs through Malaysia. Phoenix’s character gets caught – and Vaughn leaves him behind to do some time there. Phoenix will probably face some stiff time, and probably a caning or something like that. Heche plays Phoenix’s sister, goes to see Vaughn on his return to the US, to convince him to “do the right thing”, and go back and tell the judge that Phoenix was not alone, that he did not carry the burden by himself. Maybe this would help her brother return to the US more quickly. That doesn’t work – he says No!... that is, until guilt, remorse, and a sense of justice overtake him, and he returns to Malaysia to face the music.

By this point, Heche is back in Malaysia making a big political stink there- talking to the media, putting pressure on the justice system, etc. By the time Phoenix goes to trial, Vaughn is already there, doing his time. The opening scene in the clip is where Phoenix’s character is sentenced to death. Heche’s character has put so much pressure on the judge, that he felt he would have lost face had he done anything short of sentence her brother to death.

Then the clip moves to the scene’s of Phoenix’s character being moved to the gallows. All this while accompanied by the rather serious song. Why do the song and the video fit together? Because sometimes we feel the burdens we carry can be as oppressive as being on death row (or at least as oppressive as we assume death row may be like – don’t know anyone who has ever been on death row!) Or maybe it’s that sometimes our guilt can feel like it’s condemning us to death.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P7kL4WZxRXA

What’s the final word here? That guilt and justice prevail? That we are condemned? When I did prison ministry… the themes that people longed to hear were Grace and Compassion… and Forgiveness… so they could forgive themselves.

Sometimes in the long road of life, in those long nights, we can be overcome by self-guilt and condemnation, until we wake up and let the glorious morning sun burn off the memories of the long night. Until they come again… and we have to deal with them once more.

Lord… help me.

We have fallen before the cross, on our knees

Lord… help me. I can’t do this alone.

And there are the words… and a hand…

Stand up, and walk! Your sins are forgiven! Be free once more!

Free from your own prison! Le the light shine on you forever more!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pOzZu0MDz6s&feature=related Enjoy this one!

Yikes!

2011-03-30T00:02:00.003-04:00

I have noticed I've been mis-spelling words all over the place! I have to tell you up front- I seem to get so into what I'm trying to do that I don't take the time to review and make it right. I see some of what I've written, and I think - oh my gosh, what an uneducated dolt! Forgive my spelling, just look at what I'm trying to say, and I'll promise to be more careful!

After Action Review on the "Event" - MAKING SENSE OF IT ALL!!!

2011-03-29T01:03:00.003-04:00

I've had a day to make some sense of this pretty powerful experience experience. And I've started wondering something - If someone asks "what was it like?" unless they give me time to explain, or are aware that there's more to the experience than what I am able to say, or know that there's more meaning in the words between the words, then it will be hard to get this across. Plus, I'm left wondering, in our fast-paced world, how long do people give you to tell them about the most physically challenging (and as a result, something laden with tremendous emotional content) event I have ever done before they start to get tired and want to disengage and get back to their world?

If you ask me, will you give me time to talk? Will you take the time to listen to the words that I'm unable to say? I don't know that I can express myself well enough to convey be able to get it out in a sound-byte... so will you wait?

But then I wonder about the rest of our communications among ourselves - we talk, and ask each other things, and wait for the sound-byte, or even try and formulate our responses ahead of time so when someone asks we'll be ready. But how often do we listen for the words within the words... or the story within the story? Experiences like this help remind us about two things primarily, One- words cannot always express the significance or meaning of an event. And two- how often do we give people the space to let them process in words what they have experienced? If it's hard to find words to express something, do we give them time to find those words? Do we take the time to enter into the story with them?

You can see how this event has given me many things to think about. We've spent pretty much the day, off and on, making sense of what happened yesterday. We talked about the hard parts, about the people we saw, about what it made us feel (good and bad), about the pain and blessings along the way, about the pain we're feeling today... and will feel tomorrow after we wake up. We toasted our accomplishment, and offered prayers together.

I have no idea who reads this, but even if now one does, I'm glad I did this because it allowed me the chance to make some sense of this. If you've read this, I don't know if for you this was interesting, informative, boring, or what... but thanks for letting me share this with you anyway, it helped me!

What an experience!

2011-03-28T13:00:00.004-04:00

Well, we did it! 26.2 miles through the desert. It only took a little over 11 hours and 22 minutes. It was hot, dusty, windy, painful, torturous, picturesque, inspiring, satisfying, exhilarating! So many words to describe this event. I got a call from someone at church when I was on one of the killer inclines around mile 9 and a half - I guess church had ended and there were people standing around talking, wondering where ol' Pastor Chad was at this point. So this person called me on the cell phone and asked me where I was at that point. "I'm at mile 9." "People here want to know why you're doing this." And the first thing I could think to say was, "Because it's here!" Truth is, I think it is a very hard to explain why I did this. There are many reason, but hard to explain. Adventure?... Maybe. Facing a personal challenge?... That's certainly a factor. But there's certainly more to it... and to be honest, there's more that I don't think I could explain well. Well, as I'm reading over what I write, it doesn't sound very eloquent either, so I'll just blame it on the water loss and heat stroke!

Yesterday morning I woke up around 2:40 to go to the bathroom (we'd been very conscious of hydrating) but since we'd planned to wake up- and start getting ready around 3AM, I figured it would just be harder to try and fall asleep for 20 minutes and have the alarm wake me up, than to just stay up and start getting ready. Once we all got ready, we all got our gear and went to the car and drove off towards Post.

There was a pretty constant flow of traffic heading towards the front gate of Post, but still, it wasn't too bad getting through security. They asked us for ID, then wanted to confirm we were there for the Memorial Bataan March. We said yes, and he must have thought we weren't very motivated, because he wanted us to be a little more enthusiastic about it. We would have choked him, but it was too early to move so fast... plus he had a gun.

Then we followed the traffic to the parking area, found ourselves a spot, and sat and waited... and waited... and waited. We had a few trips out- to go to the bathroom (remember the hydration thing?). We went to find out where we needed to go, what we might have needed to do - us, and the six thousand other people! The people!! Amazing. And we'd go back to our vehicle and wait some more. Partly we waited there because the wind was VERY strong and steady. That was our introduction to the desert grit.

Once we got to our place in the starting area, we got a chance to be part of the starting events. First they had the color guard carry out the American flag, and played the national anthem. It really felt powerful to be able to salute again at the National Anthem. And in a simple but moving ceremony, they played reveille in honor of those who fell at Bataan, and then read the names of those survivors who died since the last memorial march. Then they played Taps, and all the military people again went to attention and saluted to honor fallen brothers.

Then they fired the start cannon, and off we went! And by "off we went" I mean we all sort of shuffled ahead with everyone, following the people in front of us, as we moved like a bunch of sardines in a very large tin. And once we crossed the start line, the chips we'd tied to our boot laces caused the electronic counter to beep... and since there were so many of us crossing all at once, the individual beep sounds ended up sounding like one long electronic tone.

The first 3 miles were still located on the populated part of post, and to put the number of participants in perspective, we were still all lumped together for probably the first 6 or seven miles. And it wasn't until about mile 10 that people didn't start spreading out. And by that I mean there were just a few less people... still pretty crowded. And then by about mile 17 was where the people really did spread out. In fact around that point, there were times that you didn't see anyone for a while. Imagine walking in the desert, on a dirt, dusty path, with wind blowing dusty grit on pretty much anything... and not seeing anyone!

Let me paint you a picture of what any random mile was like... you're walking, trying to not let the pain stop you - pain in your feet, pain in your hips, pain in your back and knees - but more, having your mind control your body. You will keep going! You will keep walking! You will make it! as the wind blows grit on you - every time I'd wipe sweat off my brow, I'd take off my sunglasses, and I'd see dust all over them. I stopped bothering to do that after the first ten miles. The path would periodically change from hard road, to hard packed dirt, to the infamous "sand box", about a mile and a half long stretch of sand (at around mile 21).

We ended up stretching out along the path. One of us got a fun Blackhawk (helicopter) ride to Memorial Medical Center in Las Cruces where he got treated for heat exhaustion... but he made it to mile 18 and a half! Still a tremendous accomplishment in itself!

And miss Karen to to be treated for a separated toe nail, so her plan was to keep going- at her pace - and see how long she could go and then stop, if need be. And Mike and I just kept going to try and beat the 8PM time limit. We ended up separating at about mile 22, where her toe got treated by the medics at the Aid station. (There were water points and medical stations placed across the route- and people on four-wheelers and trucks going up and down the trail looking for injured people.)

So Mike and I ended up walking along until the end together. We weren't talking too much after about mile 24- it was basically keeping one foot in front of the other, and walking through the pain. The last few miles took us around the back of the house on post, we walked on the dirt trail abutting the wall separating the the housing from the desert. And those miles seemed so long! At mile marker 23 there was a water point, and a little girl offering us small American flags for us to carry. I took one, but I'd already been carrying a little flag I got prior. So by this point I had two flags. Then I ended up seeing another of those small flags on the ground, and since I don't like seeing the American flag on the ground, I picked up that one as well- so by that point I ended up with 3 flags.

Mile 25 to 26.2 was the longest mile! It kept going on and on and on! And the last tenth of a mile, we turned off that dirt trail to cross the the finish line. Just before we got to the finish line... Mike took it upon himself to start sprinting, so I took it upon myself to sprint with him. And we crossed the line - at 11 hours and 22 minutes! And what an experience that was. Certainly a strong emotional experience! At the end, people in the "heavy" division had to weigh their packs so I had to get it weighed - ended up being just a little over 50 lbs. And 16 minutes later... miss Karen comes across the line, with a missing toenail and all!!!!

What an experience! and we all did well! We faced the dragon, and have made it our friend! What a trip this was! I'm proud of our accomplishment and achievement! We did well - all of us! There is more to say, beside the thoughts on the even itself, that have more to do with the the motivation, with what we endured, with the challenge of it all, with the sense of surpassing your physical limits and continuing to move forward in spite of the pain. Theres' something to say about how this has changed us. But that's for another day.

Would we do this again? Ask me next month!

Lenten trip to New Mexico

2011-03-26T21:50:00.002-04:00

Well, here we are - not in the sense of "we're we are in NM", but more in thee sense of "here we are about ready to embark on the challenge part of our journey". Here we are about to do what we've come to do. In about 7 hours we'll be getting up (3AM local time) to go to White Sands Missile Range. We've got our stuff ready to go- had to figure out what I was going to carry, where it was going to go, pack my ruck, make any adjustments, and make whatever last minute decisions and preparations we needed to make.

I had some trouble with my boot- I changed my insoles and had to cut them to make them fit better, but one of them just wouldn't cooperate, so I had to go get another pair, and then wear them around all day and see how they'd fit. Turns out, they fit really well. I'm also going to take my old insoles along with me just in case I need them. They have some indentations in them - supposedly to help massage the feet, but over a long period, they actually are not too comfortable. I've already worn those insoles for some pretty long practice walks- 12-15 miles each, and they're okay, but not like what I need. So, they'll do as secondary supports but not as the primary ones.

See, here's the thing - this "journey" started long before we arrived here. I'm more and more aware how this is really more than some physically grueling activity. It's more like a physical and spiritual exercise. Like a labyrinth, the course we'll be going on ends where it starts. And like a labyrinth, it can move us into a place of spirit as well as body, a place where your awareness moves to things deeper than just your physical needs and life. Now the Labyrinth analogy begins to break-down after that, but the point is still that if we let it, this can be a tool for deepening the faith journey.

We've been asking each other, why we're doing this- what made us WANT to do this. The theme of the knight going off to fight the dragon came up prior to our departure, and it seemed to resonate with some in our group. Why would the knight go and fight the dragon? Well, in Jungian psychology, this is more an archetype... meaning it speaks to the human condition more than a specific individuals case. The knight is the person on a quest, or facing a challenge, the one that protects others -or as the quote goes (attributed to George Orwell) "people sleep peaceably in their beds at night because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf". The knight stands watch over the people they are duty bound to protect, (or so the archetype goes... even though history is more filled with knights as brigands with a badge, hooligans abusing their people more than protecting them- but lets continue with the archetype) to face and confront fears on their behalf. THIS is why it is an archetype. We are all called to be knights at some point in our lives maybe. Knights are prepared... ready... they have done the hard work of life, and are able to confront not only physical challenges, but psychological ones, even spiritual ones... precisely because they have faced their own dragons- their dark sides, their not so noble nature.

We've prayed about this, we've even talked about the dreams we may have had even up to last night. I think we'll feel lot's of emotions as we walk - what an understatement! I packed my ruck today, heaved it on my back for a test run, and... well, let's just say this IS going to be a challenge! But I am ready! Ready, I tell you!

Actually I do feel more and more there will be something more to this than just the hard walk! Again back to the labyrinth - we'll walk a path of self-discovery, around the desert wilderness, confronting a very inhospitable landscape, confronting perhaps things about ourselves, we'll need to rely on each other, and on the mercy and generosity city of strangers... and we'll need to be generous as well, and then returning to the place we started- hours later returning to the place where the journey began, only coming back changed- tested, challenged, perhaps having confronted a dragon or two.

Well, I need to get to bed- wake-up is in 6 and 1/2 hours! Who needs sleep when you're getting ready to fight dragons!

New Mexico trip... Lenten Journey for sure!

2011-03-25T23:15:00.002-04:00

This really is a Lenten experience. We're here in the desert! We got up early today- I woke up around 5:30 local time, spent some time on the computer, got ready, then went to eat breakfast, and by 8:40 we were on the road to In-process over at White Sands Missile Range, the US Army post where this event will take place on Sunday morning.

There's nothing out there but desert! It certainly has it's own beauty for sure. As were were driving out there, there were times when all four of us where quiet as we looked at the vista. The mountains were really awe-inspiring. They're tall and jagged, sharp. Like rows of sentinels guarding the long, long view. For most of human history, deserts have been unforgiving, inhospitable places! But from the car window, driving through it, there was a real beauty in the brush and sand and rocks. Almost like it was a giant Zen garden, arranged with simple beauty in mind.

I used to live in El Paso, TX, just across the state line from Las Cruces. We left back in '93- almost 18 years ago. We landed in El Paso yesterday afternoon, and ended up icking up a few things before making our 40 minute drive to Las Cruces. I asked if we could go by where I used to live - I remembered there was a grocery story out there, and my old house was very close to it. So off we went. And seeing my old house - the first house my wife and I bought as a married couple - brought back a lot of memories.

This trip has been filled with memories so far; our former home, our former church, places we used to go, things we used to do... the adobe, the colors, the smells, all this brings me back to yesterday as if it really were yesterday. I still feel like I'm 23! I've done another revolution in the spiral- but I bring with me almost twenty years of life, of experiences - the same... only different. How fast the time goes. It's hard not to look back on this time and ask how these last twenty years have been spent.

Did I spend it well? Did I make the right choices along the way? The road less traveled...??? Had we made this decision or that one, where would my wife and I have ended up? Truth is- we could play "second-guessing" all day. We're together, and we have two beautiful children. I don't know what could have been had we done this, or not done that, just as I don't know what will happen tomorrow. But we're a family now, today. All we can do is do our best together and take it one day at a time.

We in-processed at the Family Center on Post. We got our March numbers, our chips to put on our boots, we got our commemorative T-shirts, and of course had the opportunity to get a whole lot of memorabilia from this event - some of it cool, but a lot of it over-priced I thought.

But we did get a chance to see three Bataan Death March survivors from back in 1943. The things these men went through is absolutely unreal! But that they could be there talking about it, signing autographs and laughing... after what they went through is phenomenal! "The Battling Bastards of Bataan - no mama, no papa, no Uncle Sam!"

Once we got all that done, we came back to Las Cruces, and made our way to a small - and very historic place call ed Old Mesilla... a place where Pancho Villa came to, a place where Billy the Kid was tried and sentenced to death. Around a main town square- from right out of the movies it seemed (think back to "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly") with an old church at one end and very old buildings all around the periphery of the square. They housed mostly stores, selling everything from touristy trinkets to high-end jewelry.

We had lunch there, then headed back to pick up any last minute things we might need. We've been mentally going through our check-lists: do we have enough food for the march? Do we need anything to keep the wind off us? We have to be arriving on Post no later than 4:30 AM, and it is supposed to be pretty cold at that hour. I have to make sure I have enough stuff to go in my ruck; I've got to carry what I'll need, plus make sure I have anything extra so my rick weighs enough. We are encouraged to bring food to donate to the food-bank (last year, the marchers brought enough to make over 11 thousand pounds of food!). I have three 10-pound bags of rice, plus my gear (changes of boots, socks, shirt, pants, towel, food, water, and some incidentals), so I should be okay... I think.

As I was in-processing, an older lady activated my boot chip. As my name came up on her computer, she said- "There you are- Chad Kline, 45 years of age. Oh, you're in the "heavy" division (meaning I'd be carrying a ruck) huh? Well, very good. Good luck." What the heck lady!?!?! What, do I look too old to be doing this?!?!?! Way to inspire me!

No... we're going to make it! All four of us are going to make it! Drive on!... All the way!

Thing is, this is just as much mental as it is physical. We saw parts of the route as we drove in and out of post - there's this hill we're supposed to go up and over... somewhere around mile 17. This is before the "sand pit" we'll be hitting further down the road. Sounds more grueling by the day. Drive on!

Well, it's the end of the day, we just had dinner, and I've been here for about an hour typing- 10 PM local time- but for me, it's after midnight- time for bed! Tomorrow we relax, do our last minute prep, pack our rucks, make sure our gear is in order. And we get ready in our heads! And sleep! because it'll be a VERY early day!

more later-

2011-03-25T08:05:00.004-04:00

Well, I never talked about it here, but for some time now (a few years at least), I've felt something that I wasn't able to expplain. It's somethign internal, somethign in my psychology. I've felt a real resonance with the idea of being challenged - physically. SOrt of like the story of the knight who goes off to face the dragon. There's some risk there for sure, some peril. And the knight certainly has to be prepared - so training is involved, not just physical training (you know, proficiency with his sword, shield and lance) but psychological preparedness as well (it's a DRAGON!!!!!).

So, I've had this sense of needing to face a challenge for some time now. About 6 years ago, a neighbor of mone and I trained for the local metric marathon (26.2 kilometers instead of miles). We did that a few years together. We trained together, and ran it together... lot's of fun indeed. Actually no, it wasn't "fun", but the sense of accomplishment after was good.

I used to be in the Army, and back wneh I was younger I did all these tought and fun stuff. I spent a lot of time in the woods being, as I called it "hungry, wet, cold and tired", but then I'd have something to tell stories about once I got back. We'd also compete against other teams in some pretty challenging events that dealt mostly with Infantry skills; like shooting, first aid, map reading and land navigation, patrolling, and a ten mile ruck march with combat load (web gear, weapon, and 50 pound pack), and since we were competing, it ended up being a 10 mile run instead of a march. But back when I was in my early 20's (It's now 20 years later - where does the time go???) I could put my body through a whole lot of abuse like that and still some out pretty okay.

Well, the years passed, and it seems I've come to my mid-life crisis. I say that, not with a desire to leave my wife, buy a red corvette, or anything like that, but more as a sense of assessing my last 20 years of adult life. I've become VERY conscious of my remaining years- whatever they are. I've had a close friend die about 2 and a half years ago die of pancreatic cancer, and being a pastor, I've seen quite a few people die in the congregations I've been with. The most recent was a young man who was my age. I remember thinking how young he was! And he was about two months older than me.

So, it seems every person faces their own mortality iin some fashion or other. And this brings with it many questions, brings up many issues. Although we seem to hear most about the people who don't handle this transition well - they run away from their responsibilities (like family and marriages, or work), but I also think our society doesn't see this as the transition it is, and therefore there probably are many people who don't, let's say, transition well.

And I have to say, this really is a transition. The symbol that I keep coming back to is the spiral - as you travel the spiral length, you come back to the same place, only closer (or farther away) from the center, depending on the direction of travel. I'm still attracted to the saem things - but in a differnet way. For example, I really do believe in God, as I did 20 years ago... but over these 20 years, I've seen things, experienced things, enought to say that YES there is a God... but all the answers I used to have don't seem to apply anymore. But the answers I DO have left, I believe with my whole heart!

I'm still the same person - but not exactly. Basically I'm the same person - still Chad - but I do sense some changes in me that I wouldn't have experienced years ago. I'm more comfortable in my own skin now than I used to be. I'm not as threatened by people and situations as I used to be. Love is different now - I've learned what it's like not only to have a spouse for over 20 years, but to have children - and love them so much. And friends- friendship now seems more permanent, more a needed thing in life. And the dragons are still there too... only different. We all have dragons in our lives - those challenges that seem insurmountable, too scary to face.

This time of transition has drawn me in. Seems I've recognized in it something sacred. It came more fully clear as I was preparing for the "real" marathon back in 2009. About two years ago, I decided I would run a full marathon. A metric marathon is 26.2 kilometers, which is a little over 16 miles. So, this would be adding on another 10 miles on top of what I'd already done. When I did my first metric marathon, I remember thinking -"there's no way I can run 10 more miles!"

Well, I decided I had to face that dragon. But this time it was different. My friend had moved away, and I had non one else to train with. So I ended up training alone - miles and miles of thinking... no one there but me, myself, and I.

Well, not exactly. I remember feeling the presence of my grandfather, a man I didn't know too well sive we lived so far away from them. He'd died in 1980 at the age of 60. He was a career Army man, a tough exterior, a grizzled WWII vet. But he really loved us grandkids- showed a much softer side to us. He'd been a very good father to my father as well, it seems. My father spoke of his youth, of times with his father, with deep respect. No disrespect to my Mother's side of the family, but I think in your mid life you also end up dealing with your "father" issues. Now, I don't mean "issues" per se (although that's certainly possible) but I mean (for guys perhaps more) whatever "father" stuff you have, seems to come up more... thus the Grandfather and Father stuff on my runs.

In retrospect, these training runs were very important to me. They helped me sort through things. Perhaps not in a talk-with-a-therapist way... but in a slow, mile after mile, one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, let your mind wander and see what comes up, kind of way. And things did come up- as I prepared to face my dragon.

I trained by myself for that marathon, I registered by myself, and I ran it by myself. It was a solitary experience, but not a lonely one. It felt right that I did it alone. I had to face it myself. And I did. And I dedicated my run to my daughter. Aside from being obviously a very physical experience, it really ended up being a very spiritual one as well.

And here I am, a year and a half later facing another challenge - I'm here in Las Cruces New Mexico in a hotel at 7:00 local time writing this. I'm here to face another dragon - the annual memorial Bataan Death March. It commemorates the WWII event - the Japanese invaded and took the Philippine islands, and marched the prisoners (American and Philippine soldiers) to their prison camp miles and miles away. MANY didn't make it. They died from lack of water, food, morale, violence. New Mexico had a unit that was captured... so they commemorate it here every year. You can compete in the light division - without a pack, or in the heavy division - with a pack. So I'll be walking 26 miles with a pack.

I'm here with three other people - this time it's a team effort. And this has been a very intense training time as well. It seems, again, there is somethign more to this than just the walking. The event is on Sunday morning - so we're gearing up for this, and waiting to see how it will play itself out.

More to come soon!

Lenten Meditation

2011-03-21T21:57:00.001-04:00

We’ve been watching what the Japanese people have been going through for over a week now. And we’ve been tuned in to what the populous in some Middle Eastern countries have been trying to do for over a month now. There really has been a lot going on on the international scene. Our world is changing; political boundaries are relatively stable, but what’s happening within those boundaries seems to be up for grabs. Our hearts and prayers go out to all people in the midst of suffering – whether due to natural disaster or political change.

This Lent, we’re seeing things happen that weren’t on our collective radars even a few years (or months even) ago. As we pray for those in our world needing prayer; those suffering loss, hunger, devastation, illnesses of various kinds… let us remember to hold our loved ones close. As we pray for them, we pray for ourselves. Let us not fall into the trap of seeing natural or political events as just another thing covered by the media. Let us not fall into the trap of seeing such things as just one more even that doesn’t really concern us.

But what can we do? Well, usually, not too much. We can’t leave our homes and families to volunteer our time feeding people, or running a shelter. Most of us can’t afford to leave like that (in money or time). We have children to care for, or parents (or grandparents) to tend to, or certainly other responsibilities to manage. And even if we could go… there are people all over this globe of ours that need someone to care for them, someone to help them, to give them hope… we’d be working until we fell from exhaustion. So what can we do? Well, we can give money. But considering all the disasters and appeals for money over these last few years… (Indonesian tsunami – 2004, Katrina – 2005, Haiti Earthquake – 2010, Deep Water Horizon oil spill – 2010, New Zealand earthquake – 2011, Japan Earthquake – 2011… and this is just the big stuff, and I didn’t even list the other 4 major earthquakes since 2005). That would be a lot of money… money that many now-a-days don’t even have to spend for necessities, much less luxuries. We could send money… every day, somewhere, to someone who really needs it!

It really is so much easier to just turn off the TV, the radio, or the internet, and let the world fend for itself- even if we do care! I’ve not said all this to make you feel bad, or even to highlight our inadequate ability to alleviate pain and suffering in the world. I didn’t say any of this to be a downer (we REALLY DO NOT like to hear about disasters and tragedies!). On the contrary, I REALLY DO believe we are people of hope, people of light!

We can look up! We can pray. We can live well. We can remember those places in our lives we need to work on, and work on them. We can become people of as much honor and integrity as we can muster. We can love the people in our lives with as clear a conscience as we are able. We can hold our friends close (cuz let me tell you, in a culture like ours… they can be hard to come by!) – hold them tight, tell them you’re glad they’re your friends.

Folks, we’re not powerless! We can make a difference in our world… our world… the little part of it we live in! I don’t necessarily mean adopting an insincere polly-anna approach to life, as we look for old ladies to help cross the street. I mean as we go about our day, we can look at our thoughts, and adopt a glass-half-full mentality as best we can. What can we do with what we have, where we are? What words can we say… or not say… that can make a difference to those around us?

May God bless you… BLESS YOU… tomorrow! And somehow, some way… may you have the honor and blessing to be a blessing to someone else!

Peace,

Lenten Message

2011-03-20T22:20:00.001-04:00

Lent is a time, certainly of preparation and introspection. Last week the Gospel reading had to do with Jesus being in the desert for 40 days. He went there seeking something. What was he seeking?

We know he was tested. We know he was being prepared. But perhaps he was seeking clarity as well.

The story is that at the end of his time, he was tempted to give up, to stop, to succumb to the temptations we are all faced with;

The temptation to appease our appetites of self-gratification

The temptation to using God for our own ends

The temptation of power

If you could go to a deserted place… what would you seek? Rest? Solitude? Preparation? Clarity?

Another video- this one of the desert.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hbx1UDMHL5o

Lenten Message

2011-03-16T23:05:00.001-04:00

Where is God?

Here’s the interesting thing about this God-thing, I know there is something out there. I’ve experienced it, I’ve seen it, I know there’s something. You know, the “coincidences”, the serendipitous moments, the times where the planets have lined up, where the veil between the two worlds parts just a little bit. I’ve been with others when something miraculous happens – rooms full of people, or with just a handful and I’ve been alone when something other-worldly has happened. So, yeah, I’ve been there! I know there’s something out there!

And yet, you know, I can’t tell you where God is. “God” isn’t local. I mean, I can tell you where my car is. It’s somewhere. I can tell you where my kids are… they’re somewhere- all the time. Somewhere. These things are physical. Obviously physical things are always somewhere. So, where’s God? Well, God isn’t physical, so… where is God?

Okay, God is “in our hearts”. Sounds good. But that really means something related to our emotions. When we say that, we mean we have a feeling of some kind, like compassion. We feel love. Now these things are not bad… feelings can help us to engage in the world, to motivate us to make a difference. Yet God isn’t really in our hearts. Again -there’s that physical thing. When we say this, couldn’t we just as easily replace God with an emotion and it would be just as valid? Love is in my heart. Mercy is in my heart. Compassion is in my heart. Could we say these things and still go out there and make the world a better place? Could we say these things and still feel connected to something bigger than us? Yeah, I think so.

Is God in heaven? Okay… where and what is heaven? It’s not “up there” somewhere. We’ve been up there, and it’s just empty (or mostly empty) space… and it get’s super cold and dark past our atmosphere. What do you mean by “up there”? Makes no sense in terms of the physical world.

So, maybe we talk about the spiritual world… God is in the Spirit world! Okay, sounds like that makes sense. What’s the spirit world? Another realm… another dimension? Hey, could be.

Where’s God? I would have to say, I don’t know. Is God real? Yep! Is God somehow connected to all the stuff out here? Yep! Is God connected to us somehow? Yep! Yet I can’t tell you where God is.

I spend my days thinking about God, talking about God – people expect me to say something profound about God… not once, not twice, but every week… in public! Granted, there’s more to this gig than just sitting around staring at “God”, but God seems pretty important in my line of work. And yet… What can I say about God?

I can tell you my experience! I can tell you my story! I can tell you where all this has led me in terms of God! I can tell you what all this has meant to me! I can tell you about you and me, and how that connects me to God.

I can tell my story! And as I tell my story, if you’re listening… listening… listen with your spirit… you’ll hear in the story where God is.

And if you tell me your story… tell me where you came from, what motivates you in life, what your fears are, how you see yourself, what you believe in, when you were broken, when you were built up… I’ll hear where God is.

So where’s God? What would you say?

Lenten Message

2011-03-13T21:39:00.001-04:00

Where is God? If we answer that question, it’s often answered in some very expected way – “in my heart”, or something like that. Not bad for sure, better there than not, right? But have you thought of seeing Jesus in the ones we middle-class suburbanites rarely see… the broken of our culture; the poor, the people from inner-city neighborhoods, the drug addict (whether middle-class or not), the inmate, the homeless?

“We must not seek the child Jesus in the pretty figures of our Christmas cribs. We must seek him among the undernourished children who have gone to bed with nothing to eat, among the poor newsboys who will sleep covered with newspapers in doorways” – Archbishop Oscar Romero, December 24^th, 1979

Why? Why must we seek Jesus there?

Lenten Meditation

2011-03-12T18:30:00.000-05:00

A Lenten message – may it bless you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEtsHWFE6-w

Pr. C-

Lenten Meditation for Fri March 11

2011-03-10T23:21:00.002-05:00

Simplicity has attracted me for a long time; the simplicity of order, of few motions, of simple words, of quietness. I work in a world where I am paid to speak... for some people what I say is too much, for others it's not enough. There is no happy medium. Some want you to explain more, again, again, more. Others say -enough.

I have had enough myself some days!

So, I take refuge in simplicity, as a wandering, seeking soul takes refuge in the Dharma.

The discipline of simplicity -

So, if I try poetry, the simplicity of Haiku seems to hold most promise. How can you say what you want to say in as few syllables (not words) as possible. As you count 'em... make 'em count. (Sort of like your breathes - you only have so many, make 'em count, right?!)

The perfect moment

Rests between adjacent breathes

Hiding in full view

My father still breathes

I mourn his loss day by day

His mind slowly dies

I chose a path once

Walking I found another

Has it chosen me?

Grasping at stillness

Cannot be done – yet why grasp

Wasted energy – just be

Join me... enter this discipline of simplicity and see what comes out.

Lenten Meditation

2011-03-10T09:06:00.001-05:00

Hope you enjoy the video – and although the message that comes with it is pretty old, it still has something to say to us today!

Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dPDO3Tfab0

Remember, Lent reminds us being human means more than filling our time and lives with stuff. Remember the people you love- sometimes we find God right there in their midst.

Peace,

Pr. C-

Ash Wed

2011-03-09T17:09:00.002-05:00

Folks,

Today begins the 40+ day journey of Lent. For most of us, Lent isn’t that much different than any other time in the year; we’re always busy running around doing this or that, running errand, working, taking the kids here and there, working to keep the house picked-up, feeling guilty about the things we haven’t gotten to but need to, and in there somewhere we have to eat and sleep some perhaps- if we have time. I used to say- “I’ll sleep next year!”

And in the middle of this we look for meaning! Some of you may remember a rather edgie British film called “Alfie” (in 1966 there was a whole wing of our culture that was edgie) – about a self-absorbed guy who uses people for his own pleasure. Then at some point has a come-to-Jesus moment where he questions his all of his life; his motivations, his lifestyle, his choices, and decides to straighten up his life- only to be let down by the effects of his choices. The lyrics of the title song still ring true to us today:

Alfie Lyrics
Artist(Band):Joss Stone

What's it all about, Alfie?
Is it just for the moment we live?
What's it all about when you sort it out, Alfie?
Are we meant to take more than we give
Or are we meant to be kind?
And if only fools are kind, Alfie,
Then I guess it's wise to be cruel.
And if life belongs only to the strong, Alfie,
What will you lend on an old golden rule?
As sure as I believe there's a heaven above, Alfie,
I know there's something much more,
Something even non-believers can believe in.
I believe in love, Alfie.
Without true love we just exist, Alfie.
Until you find the love you've missed you're nothing, Alfie.
When you walk let your heart lead the way
And you'll find love any day, Alfie, Alfie
would you tell me what's it all about?
what's it all about? Alfie, Alfie, Alfie.
What's it all about? Whats this all about?
what's it all about Alfie? tell me
what's it all about Alfie? what's it all about Alfie?
just tell me yeah. what's it all about?
what's it all about?

And yet more Americans claim to be religious and/or spiritual than not. So what’s my job in the midst of middle-class suburbia where we all seem to be so busy, yet so interested in spirituality and wanting to lead a life of meaning and depth? Perhaps it has to do with speaking the truth that we are so busy (for one)… too busy some times… and offer some ways and practices to help us counter-act the pressures of our life-style, the currents around us that pull us towards selfish abundance, and incline us towards circling our wagons in self-protection-cocooning ourselves in from the greater world.

One of those ways is to take back control of our own spirits! We do not have to be subject to the greater whims of “culture” and “schedule”. Now, no-one is saying this is easy! Or that it can be done in one sitting! Countering our “life-styles” of activity and time pressures takes a lot of discipline for sure.

And that’s what I wanted to share about – discipline.

Usually Lent is a time, we’ve often been taught, to give something up- more often than not, something we like (like for me would be dark chocolate). If that works for you, great! If that helps you bring your mind and heart on those things that are more meaningful, (like family, or doing good work in the world), then more power to you! If that helps you remember that you aren’t the only person in the world, and part of your “divine mission” in life is to help make the world a better place, then keep that practice up!

Thing is, these things we give up are usually temporary (like I can only go so long without my dark chocolate). We usually end up resuming the very things we gave up for Lent after Lent is over! So, I would offer something to those who are looking to do something else – instead of giving up something, perhaps think of adding something- like practices that help you connect to your God and your world. “How in the world am I going to ADD something else into this schedule?” Well, I don’t mean going on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, or building a church in your spare time. I mean something doable like saying “At 12 noon every day I’m going to take some quiet time – 5 minutes or some time like that – and be with God” in prayer, in meditation, in bible reading, or whatever is important to you. Or how about taking a walk every day, a short or long walk (depending on the time you have available) just to be alone with your thoughts, without distractions- some time to look at the sky, or see the flowers growing, or whatever helps you remember you are also part of the world! Practicing Muslims in our culture take time (5 times actually) to set aside whatever they are doing, and take a few minutes to focus on God and what God may be speaking to them. And in our world, in the way we live life, I can’t imagine having the discipline to pray 5 times a day is a bad thing!

This Lent, let our Lenten discipline be to find the gaps in the busy lifestyles we lead, and widen them just a little, being conscious to do the work of letting the Light of God in a little more. In Lutheran parlance this is called “Sanctification” – the living out of our faith in our daily lives.

And please pray for this gathering of people and the community it serves – during these 40 days of Lent… pray with me for us, for guidance.

I, we, need pray-ers, people to pray for us and our work. Will you commit to daily prayer for us?

If this is something you can do, and commit to, during this time of Lent, please let me know. I’ll put you on a separate list for e-mail and/or snail-mail and/or phone call (some do not have e-mail) and connect with you all that way.

Peace,

Pastor C-

Here we are

2011-03-07T22:52:00.001-05:00

Folks,

I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, particularly in relation to being here full-time, to Michael’s struggle with cancer and his too-early death. And there are a few more things, but these are the biggest I guess.

And here we are coming to Lent- Ash Wednesday will be upon us VERY soon! And we enter 40 days of Lent… 40 days that ostensibly call us to deeper contemplation, to enter into some more intimate space, into a time of assessing our place before the divine, a time of assessing our own human relationships (because perhaps there is a connection between our human connections and the divine… perhaps!?!)

During the debate among the leaders here at ASLC about whether ASLC could afford having a full-time pastor, about whether it could afford to pay not only increased salary, but all the other expenses that go along with a full-time package. The answer was- we can do it… probably… and for probably no more than 2 years max – assuming nothing changes!

We all, in theory at least, seem to like the idea of a full-time pastor. But the concern, and this is a valid concern, really seems to boil down to money – Will ASLC have enough money to maintain a full-time pastor? Assuming nothing changes, the even horizon is very short.

How can we assume nothing will change? Things have changed since we’ve been together. Over four years ago, I came to a congregation that I think any pastor would have coveted! As many of you know, I was on the verge of leaving ministry – at least in this sense. But yet here I am, still here (not only in ministry, but here at ASLC), after 4 and a half years later. And in those almost five years, a lot has happened; bible studies, prayer groups, youth ministry in different ways – connection to other churches, etc., fellowship activities, a depth of spirit in worship and life, a sense of freedom and grace among this community. I remember Pastor Michel told as I was preparing to come here, that this was the most spiritual congregation he had ever seen.

And I certainly don’t mean to imply I’m the catalyst for this change. Truth is, things have been changing since the beginning of ASLC! Those of you who have been here longer than, say, 10 years… think back… you’ve seen a number of changes! Now, some things stayed the same right!?!? Like people… yeah, I bet every one you knew back then is still the same as they were back then! Folks, nothing is the same as it was back then! Not the people, not the building, not the other “static” element of life. So, let’s see, even the things we thought were the same, have changed as well. Change is the way of life! And yet the better question is – what will these changes bring?

I don’t know exactly. But I do know this – I trust that we’re in this together for a reason! A good reason! I trust that we can stand strong against the winds of fear and doubt… together… and work and build, and change, and deepen, and flourish as time goes on.

And today I helped bury Michael Deets – a child of this congregation in a very real sense. I mourn his death, and will do so for a very long time. He was many things; he was centered, he enjoyed life, he was a rather private person, he was compassionate, in a sense traditional, lived with dignity, politically conservative, and more… but also a child of this congregation, and child of God.

For some of you, the list of those whom you’ve loved, but who are no longer here, seems to grow longer every year. Yet at some point we get to the place where we say… we still live. Whether we keep walking for them or for us… we keep walking.

The memorial service for Michael will be this Saturday, and it will be more a celebration of his life. I can think of no greater way of moving forward – us, here at ASLC, than to move forward into an unknown future, looking back on those times and people we’ve loved as they walked here with us… but moving forward in celebration – for what God has done and what God will do in our lives, and in our congregation- among us and in us and with us.

We are the inheritors of those who’ve gone before us. Even though there may be times we may not want to move forward, we may not want to take another step… we can walk forward because they have been with us. At some point we will be able to get to a place of being able to lift up our voices, lift up our faces to the heavens and, in spite of our losses, be able to say, “Lord, I may not understand, I may not get it… but I’m still here, among others… and I still believe!”

Without denying the pain, (and there will be pain) we’ll hold hands together, and sing together, and look at each other in the eyes and hug, and welcome new faces, and meet new people, and bring new children into the world, and say good-bye, and we’ll tell our stories in faith, and we’ll wonder where we’re going to need to build, and help each other heal from pain, and we’ll walk, and worship! And we’ll celebrate!

Sounds kind of Polly-anna-ish… so sue me! I believe this!

Trust God; to plan or not

2011-03-01T11:45:00.000-05:00

Folks,

This past Sundays Gospel reading was Matthew 6:24-34 – basically Jesus saying; Don’t worry about your life, what you’ll eat or wear. Isn’t life more than food and drink and clothes? Then Jesus talks about the birds of the air – how they don’t sow or reap or gather into barns… yet God takes care of them. Then there’s the famous “Consider the lilies of the field” section, where Jesus talks about how they don’t work or spin (I guess in terms of making wool or something- you know, you have to spin wool in order to use it for clothing), and yet, says Jesus, in all his splendor, Solomon was not dressed as lovely as these flowers are… and yet if God so clothes the plants of the field, which today look so lovely, and tomorrow are gathered up and thrown into the ovens, won’t God more clothe you… Oh you of little faith? So, says Jesus, don’t worry about what you’ll eat or wear. God knows you need these things already. But seek first God’s will, and the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added to you. Don’t worry about tomorrow – so ends the reading – for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Today has enough trouble of its own!

Well, what do you make of that?

When I was in Chile, dealing with issues regarding my parents- my parents were preparing to move from their place, and with my father’s dementia, he had to be in an elder care place for at least a little while until my mother could get herself settled in the new place. And of course my mother is dealing with her own health issues. So there were a whole slew of things that had to happen. We had to make sure the movers were scheduled, that she had a place to move to, that my father was in a good place, even though it was temporary, and of course all that went into planning such big things.

In my past life I was an Army Intelligence office, and my job was to be the “threat expert”. I was trained to know how the enemy thought, acted, moved, and operated. And myself and the operations guys would “War-game” scenarios… “if you do this, then we (the enemy) would do this”. We would run scenarios like this to plan ahead for as much contingency as we could anticipate. That way we would be as well prepared for as many eventualities as we could.

I say this because I end up war-gaming life-stuff as well. My default more is to plan ahead for certain contingencies I think may happen. Well, in Chile, there were a lot of things that needed to happen, and I started planning for contingencies; what if plan A didn’t work… what could plan B be? I’d tell my mother; “We’ll need to have X, and Y in place before we can get to Z.” and so on. And in my planning I’d try and think through the possibility of plan A NOT working out, so I could then be prepared for plan B… and maybe plan C if needed. Her reaction to me was to say I was such a negative thinker!

“You always think the worst!”

“Well, of course! I don’t want to get caught unprepared – we don’t have enough time to spare as it is, we don’t want to be fumbling around wasting time.”

This is how she saw me – A “negative” thinker

This is how I saw her – “It’ll all work out!”… without a plan thought through ahead of time.

My first reaction to this past weeks Gospel reading was, “Don’t worry, be happy”! Remember “Hacuna Matata”, the Swahili phrase made famous in the “Lion King” movies? [As an aside - I lived in Swahili speaking country in my youth, and I never remember hearing this phrase… could be Hollywood!?!}

Now, contrast all this with another phrase I heard – possible from the British SAS, can’t remember… “Luck favors the prepared!”

Remember the story of Mary and Martha in the Gospels? There’s one scene where Mary is sitting at Jesus’ feet hearing his words, while Martha is in the kitchen cooking and preparing to feed all the people Jesus had brought in. And Martha gets mad! And she complains to Jesus- and he says that Mary has made the better choice since they wouldn’t always have Jesus with them. Who are you more like – Mary, who is more the “live in the moment”, take it as it comes, kind of person… or Martha, the planner, and organizer? We may all have both Mary and Martha in us, but maybe we have a propensity for one more than the other.

Don’t be anxious! Don’t worry! Let tomorrow take care of itself! If you’re more Martha than Mary, that can sure sound very irresponsible! If taken literally, we wouldn’t be ready for anything. How would we get food? Or clothes? Or anything else for that matter? I can’t imagine living like this… leaving so much up to chance.

And yet… Sophie Suah used to say – “God is in control!” She had a tremendous faith! She had a tremendous trust in God’s providence! She had a tremendous trust that God would come through! Did she have worries? Absolutely! Was she concerned about things? Absolutely! But in the midst of that… she still trusted in God’s actions in the world, in her life!

So the question is, what do I get out of this reading? It’s not – “Don’t plan”! Sorry, I can’t live like that. I can’t think not planning is very responsible, especially when I have a family to take care of!

But maybe it’s; when it comes time to fall back on something – what is that? When the chips are down – where do you turn?

There are people I have met over the years who have such deep faiths- my mother being one! Often they remind me their first and ultimate trust is in God! One person I met years ago, in one of our conversations about faith, they talked about praying on their knees, about actually getting down on their knees in prayer. They talked about something personal, about being in relationship with this greater intelligence… and their being on their knees was a way to remind them of their act of trust in God. Until that point, I hadn’t prayed like that in years! Prayer can certainly take on a different tone when your on your knees than when you’re driving in the car.

I’m usually the last one to bed often. And our bedroom and our kid’s bedrooms are all on the same floor. Before I go to bed, I’ll often kneel on one knee right between my two kids bedrooms, and put my hands on each of their doors and pray for God’s guidance and protection for both of them, and thank God for them!

In situations like this, your body reminds you, not just your head, that God is in control – that God is there! There is an early Christian prayer posture called prostration- or laying face down on the ground, symbolically in front of God, in prayer. The Muslim tradition has a very similar posture, where the prayer kneels down, then bends forward to touch their foreheads to the ground. In these traditions, our bodies remind us whom we are praying to.

Do I think Jesus said don’t plan? Don’t think ahead? Don’t take care of your kids? Don’t be responsible? No, I can’t agree with that! That can’t be right!

But I think it is reminding us who often over-plan, who can worry too much, who don’t sleep well thinking about the things that need to get done, who get anxious about what tomorrow may bring… I think Jesus is saying… when you pray, get on your knees, or lie face down (whether literally or metaphorically) and lay it all out for God! Tell it to God like it is – Your worries, your concerns, what you think you need to do, where you think you need to go, etc. Once you’ve done that, Let God help you back up again! And Live… as best you’re able… and with as much life as you can muster… trusting that God will be there!

Food For The Journey

2011-02-23T10:45:00.001-05:00

Yesterday we had a good Sacred Space, our last one for a few months. Our theme, as you’ve heard, was “Letting Go”. We all seem to have stuff to let go of, from old baggage that’s not helpful to us anymore, old hurts or memories. Sometimes we are forced to let go of something due to circumstance beyond our control; such as age, physical limitations (that seem to grow over the years), etc.

Last night, in keeping with our tradition, we had a reading (or two) to introduce our evening. I want to share one of our two poems with you- one that certainly does speak to us of letting go. What does this say to you? Listen to the ideas within the words.

Gentle me,

Holy One,

into an unclenched moment,

a deep breath,

a letting go

of heavy experiences,

of shriveling anxieties,

of dead certainties,

that, softened by the silence,

surrounded by the light,

and open to the mystery,

I may be found by wholeness,

upheld by the unfathomable,

entranced by the simple,

and filled with the joy

that is you.

– Ted Loder

“Gentle me, Holy one, into an unclenched moment…”

“Gentle me”… a passive voice, an action being done to us. Perhaps assuming we do not often Gentle ourselves.

And how many moments in our lives are clenched? Clenched with expectations, clenched by whatever baggage we carry into our days, or our relationships? Hold on – to your assumptions, to what you think is true! Hold on! Don’t let go! What would happen if you did, though? Seems to take some gentleness for sure to be able to do that.

“…a letting go of heavy experiences…”

Heavy experiences indeed. As a pastor for over a decade now, I am struck by how heavy some people’s burdens are, by what people with them day to day, burdens brought on often by heavy experiences. What weight we carry.

“…of shriveling anxieties… of dead certainties…”

Someone commented last night about this portion of the poem, on how anxieties can shrivel us, as they suck our energy, our thoughts, our lives out of us. Shriveling anxieties… those seeds of doubt, of worry, of uncertainties that can grow into suffocating weeds of paralysis and distress.

And what are “dead certainties”? Perhaps those things that are realities in our lives that mean nothing. How often I have heard of people in well-paying jobs who feel the job is slowly strangling them.

I don’t advocate divorce easily! But there are some times where divorce may be the better choice! Would feeling the weight of needing to stay in a destructive relationship qualify as a dead certainty? Dead certainty… How many of those do we have in our lives?

“…that, softened by the silence,

surrounded by the light,

and open to the mystery,

I may be found by wholeness…”

“I may be found by wholeness…” a passive waiting, an unclenched moment of openness that only allows for the mystery to find us. So counter intuitive! Many years ago, when I was in High School overseas (my father was in the Government), I lived Kenya, and as part of one of our school trips we had a chance to go to the coast, to the Indian Ocean. Well, as part of this week out there, I went snorkeling for the first time. I’d been told to go down with some bread and as the bread would dissolve, they told me, the fish would come!

Well, I took bread underwater with me, put a piece between my hands and began rubbing them back and forth. And within a few seconds, I was surrounded by dozens of brightly colored fish of various sizes. It was like a National Geographic moment for sure. I was almost immediately tempted to reach out to touch these fish… but I couldn’t. They were way too fast! Again, I tried. And again. No fish! But I could feel their fins, the pressure their tails made when they quickly turned back and forth. So I just held out my hands, palms open, fingers cupped, and let them fill the empty space my hands made. Did I “hold” the fish? No… but were they in my grasp? Yep. I had to let go of the idea of “grabbing” the fish and let them come to me – a passive shift in perspective.

“…I may be found…” Not “I will seek”, or “I will find”. But that it may find me… once I have been gentled enough into an unclenched moment, opened enough to be found by… “wholeness, upheld by the unfathomable, entranced by the simple, and filled with the joy that is you.

May the empty spaces of your lettings-go be found by Grace and Peace.

Pr. C-

Meditation... mostly

2011-02-17T10:40:00.000-05:00

Another good meditation/”deep thought” by Jack Handy

“Whenever I see an old lady slip and fall on a wet sidewalk,

my first instinct is to laugh. But then I think, what if I was an ant,

and she fell on me. Then it wouldn’t be so funny.”

Hope it made you laugh, even just a little. I was reading a list of Jack Handy’s stuff and it made me laugh… a lot. He’s so weird and twisted- just like me!

Laughing is good for the soul.

Peace,

Pr. C-

Meditation

2011-02-16T09:36:00.000-05:00

From the book “One Door Away From Heaven” by Dean Koontz

From Geneva Davis to her niece just released from prison.

“Change isn’t easy, Micky. Changing the way you live means changing the way you think. Changing the way you think means changing what you believe about life. That’s hard, sweetie. When we make our own misery, we sometimes cling to it even when we want so bad to change, because the misery is something we know. The misery is comfortable.” Chapter 1, page 8

If you want to change your life, you have to change how you think- if you want to change how you think, you have to change what you believe. Wow, powerful words! When I first read these words they struck me like a ton of bricks. I was working with inmates- people like everyone else, only more so. People who often haven’t learned what many learn along the way; patience, delayed gratification, self discipline, etc. It wasn’t uncommon for me to hear people talk with surprise about why they kept doing the same thing over and over again – like some women who kept asking why they kept aligning themselves with destructive men, or the guys who asked why they kept going back to the same destructive behaviors like drugs.

We have to change what we believe – what do we believe? Is it healthy? Does it deserve to be changed? “Just change your belief that your worthless, think of yourself as work-ful, and it’ll all be better!” Obviously it’s not that easy, but it’s certainly not impossible.

I’ve come back to these words over and over again through the years. Change what you believe; about life, about humanity, about religion, God… what else? Change what we believe… and our lives can change along with that. Yeah, I buy!

Meditation

2011-02-15T13:20:00.000-05:00

Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart

and try to love the questions themselves…

Don’t search for the answers,

which could not be given to you now,

because you would not be able to live them.

And the point is, to live everything.

Live the questions now.

Perhaps then, someday far in the future,

you will gradually, without even noticing it,

live your way into the answer.

– Rainer Maria Rilke