Pondering Pentecost

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house . . . . Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.
(Acts 2:1-4 NRSV)

Imagine you were there, in the city for the Pentecost festival, celebrating and giving thanks for the first fruits of the wheat harvest. Maybe you traveled some distance to attend, as was expected of the devout worshippers of the One God. Others were present as residents of Jerusalem, having made the City of David their home some years prior. Whatever the situation, just 50 days prior you had been present for the Passover festival, and now it was Pentecost.

Your memories from Passover were still fresh. You had been among the pilgrims when the One they called Messiah entered the city. You were aware of his arrest just a few days later. Then you heard he had been crucified – another victim of Rome’s brutal sense of justice.

But the most astonishing reports had circulated in the days that followed, that he was somehow once again alive! These reports even reached your home town miles and days away from Jerusalem. Could it be true? Now, back in the Holy City, reports from the grapevine newsfeed were that his followers had resurfaced, and were preaching and teaching in this risen One’s name.

Coming to Jerusalem for a major festival was always a melting pot experience. People of different lands, languages and ethnicities gathered in the common cause of faith and devotion. Jews and God Fearers alike occupied the city, with some Gentiles around, looking to profit off the business opportunities a crowd brings. And, of course, the ever present Romans, keeping – enforcing – the peace.

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The Ministry of Free Agency

Since February of 2023 I have been telling friends and family, and others who inquire, that I’m in the “free agent” portion of my vocational life. For me this means that I’m not partnered with one particular employer in a ministry call or covenant relationship, but rather I’ve been able to pick and choose what I want to do with my time to cobble together an income and professional routine.

To date the pieces of this puzzle have included becoming a PRN chaplain with a large hospital – working two to three shifts a week; teaching adult English language learning classes two evenings a week; doing some freelance writing; serving an Interim pastorate, as well as engaging in some contract work in theological education for a denominational partner group.

These are all things that bring me some level of fulfillment. They offer the opportunity to make meaningful contributions and draw on my expertise, experience and giftedness; without consuming all of my time, energy or focus in just one arena. Keeping the schedule straight can be a challenge, but to this point the variety and pace has been a welcome addition in this season of life. But is it truly free agency?

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A New Commandment

The more memorable congregational moments in my tenure as a pastor often coincided with one of the supporting service types of worship experiences found alongside a high holy season. It wasn’t the Christmas Eve service, for example, so much as perhaps an Advent service leading up to Christmas. And it wasn’t Easter worship, for me, as much as the Maundy Thursday service a few days prior.

I’m thinking of this today on Maundy Thursday. It’s the beginning of the Triduum, the three days beginning with Thursday evening through Easter Sunday, that mark the Paschal celebration of Jesus’ last supper, Garden prayers, arrest, trial, death by crucifixion, burial and resurrection. Each of the events of these days are significant, and each worthy of our attention. But there is an intimacy and togetherness found in the Maundy Thursday observance that has always deeply moved me.

Maybe it was the scene of that upper room, prepared for Jesus and the Twelve to share the Passover. I can imagine these men coming together for their celebration. Already the week in Jerusalem had produced surprising outcomes. There had been the triumphal entry parade, the cleansing of the moneychangers from the Temple, and significant teaching moments by the Messiah. Sharing a Passover meal would be a welcome respite and time of reflection away from the crowds. Yet, this night began with such an unexpected, and to some extent unwelcome, overture from Jesus as he insisted on washing their feet!

Writing this last sentence brings to mind prior Maundy Thursday services where we had some version of foot washing. Truly this act of service is one that makes its recipient humbled. How like Jesus to provide such an object lesson for the Twelve. It must have set a tone for their time together. Through their mix of shame (why didn’t one of them do this?) and having been humbled, they must now have been ready to listen to the Teacher.

Yet, what followed was no less astonishing. Jesus repurposed the Passover to tell of his coming death, assigning new meaning to the bread and the cup, representations of His body and blood which was to be broken and shed for sin – all sin, their sin and ours. Then, as the evening was drawing to a close, John tells us (John 13:34) that He gave them a new commandment. Here is where we get the term “maundy” from the Latin word “mandatum” meaning mandate or command: “love one another, just as I have loved you”.

A good teacher will tell you that presenting a lesson through varied methods raises the likelihood of its being remembered. People retain information more, for example, when they not only hear words, but also put their other senses to the retention. If we “see” a picture retention increases. If we have a “hands on” discovery of learning retention grows even more pronounced. Jesus was a good teacher. He gave His disciples a well-rounded lesson this night that engaged them through multiple mediums of presentation. They heard his words, but they also saw his actions, and they felt his touch. This new commandment, to love one another as He had loved them, would stick because of all the ways His life had and would demonstrate love.

As I reflect back over some of the more meaningful Maundy Thursday worship experiences of years gone by, I think part of their meaning came from the multisensory connections they utilized – sight, sound, touch, taste, light, darkness, silence and more. Jesus did so much more than tell us to love one another, he showed us what love is. He lived love, touched our lives with it, gave us a way to remember it, celebrate it, and share it. Standing on the cusp of another Triduum I’m mindful of this. Maundy Thursday was the opening scene in what would prove to be a meaningful beyond description last act of Jesus’ earthly life and ministry. Just as it prepared His Disciples to become attuned to what was coming, so might it help us to grasp the meaning of these days once again. So might it help us in obedience to His command: “love one another, just as I have loved you”.

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Parade Rest

On this Palm Sunday we turn our attention to the readings of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem (Mark 11:1ff; Matthew 21:1ff; Luke 19:28ff; John 12:12ff). This is such a story of juxtaposition. On the one hand we have the celebratory acts of what appears to be a spontaneous parade of welcome. People line the street and then cover i,t with their cloaks and palm branches in advance of Jesus’ passing by on the donkey’s colt. It’s the fulfillment of prophecy (Zech. 9:10-11) and in the tradition of a royal or military entrance into the city. Herod or Pilate, in the name of Caesar would have made these kinds of entrances into Jerusalem, though with more might and prestige.

But on the other hand, Jesus’ entrance into the Holy City of David on what we’ve come to call Palm Sunday, while triumphant, was also humble and surrounded with feelings and acts of sorrow and contemplation. Luke records the pause Jesus makes at a scenic overlook (19:41ff) to weep over the city and announce it’s one day overthrow. He then takes the reader with Jesus and the Disciples to the cleansing of the Temple (19:45ff). How can one day encapsulate such differing outcomes?

This is what makes Palm/Passion Sunday such a perfect entry point into Holy Week. It holds in tension these various and opposite emotions that will continue to play forth through this week. We are alerted from the beginning that things are moving toward a climax, which will involve sorrow, suffering, anguish and triumph and victory.

How often life holds these same tensions together. How often gain is companioned by loss, pain comes with joy, suffering precedes celebration. The oxymoron term “parade rest” feels a fit descriptor of this day and all it stands for. Which is it going to be, a parade, or rest? Turns out, both. Jesus will parade into the city in triumph, with the joy and praise of the people, the climax of his mission within sight. And Jesus will rest with the awful truth of what is about to transpire at Calvary. The Disciples will rest with the tension of a Messiah who is at once both the answer to all they’ve prayed for, and an unexpected if not down right confusing messenger of how those prayers will be answered.

The only fitting response to Palm Sunday is to throw ourselves into the mixed responses. We too should proclaim with praise and joy that the King is coming. We should worship this King Jesus and welcome Him into our day, this week, and our lives. But, knowing as we do what lies past the threshold of the week’s opening act, let us also be prepared to “rest” with our King. Let us be ready to visit the hard places of the week, to reflect, confess, weep and keep vigil in the throws of grief and loss. Let us give these days their due as we join the parade and rest along its route.

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A Spirituality of Geography

If you have lived in different regions of the country, or nations of the world, you have likely observed, even at an unconscious level, that geography – or location, some might say “land” – often impacts spirituality. In other words, we are often shaped and formed, even spiritually, by where we live.  The landscape becomes an influence on how we perceive life, interpret the Creator, and participate in our own spiritual identity. 

We hear about this influence of land or region with respect to other aspects of life.  For example, who among us Americans is not familiar with the political moniker of “red” states and “blue” states?  This way of describing political affiliation with a more conservative (red) or progressive (blue) political identity has been in vogue for decades now.  Today we are even hearing about “purple” states!  If pressed, we could most likely color in our own map – a simplified paint by numbers exercise – of where these states are located.

Another influence of geographic location might be correlated to one’s pace of life.  Those who inhabit a more urban landscape with its busy streets, bustling congestion and condensed population are typically more likely to associate with a faster pace to living.  Interpersonal greetings between unfamiliar “strangers” can be rare in these locales.  “Keep your eyes down and go!”, seems the norm.  Whereas those in a more rural part of the country may find affinity with a less hectic pace.  And to not return a “hello” or “good morning” would simply be considered rude.

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Goals Help Us Move Forward

Are you a goal setter? A new year is often a time when persons put some thought into what they hope to accomplish on the blank canvass of a fresh calendar. Whether engaged in with intentionality or as a passing musing while on a long drive, there is something about looking out the windshield into another year that prompts us to reflect. In doing so, we may consider what we want, need, or hope to accomplish with the gift of this next year. Setting a few goals can make a difference toward these thoughts becoming more than mere wishful thinking.

Perhaps you’ve heard about SMART goals? SMART is an acronym that can help one realistically establish direction in goal setting. SMART stands for: Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant and Time-Bound. These are the kinds of goals that can propel an individual or organization forward. For example, let’s say I have a goal to get in better physical shape in 2023. Phrased in this way, the goal is admirable, but not too particular from the general “wish” of many people. If I want to improve my goal in a way that fits the SMART framework, I might edit it as follows: In 2023 I will work to lose 10 pounds by June 1, while following a heart healthy diet, exercising 45 minutes 5 days a week, averaging eight hours of sleep per night, using a health app on my smartphone for accountability. With this wording, I’ve created a specific, measurable, achievable, relevant and time-bound goal.

I promise you that there are multitudes of folks with good intentions contemplating gym memberships as the new year begins, but those with SMART goals will likely follow through on those intentions at a much higher rate than those without. So, if this is true of our behavior individually, what about congregationally? Should we, as a church, have goals? Would it help for us to be as specific and thoughtful about our ministry goals as we might be concerning our individual goals? What does a SMART church goal even look like?

We will never know if we don’t attempt to formulate one. Would such a conversation energize your leadership team? Could you, as a leader, bring up the topic and invite others to collaborate with you around it? I’m guessing almost every congregation might benefit from some goal setting in one area or another. Here are some potential general arenas of ministry that might be ripe for goals: Evangelism (introducing others to a relationship with Jesus Christ), Discipleship (helping believers grow in faith formation), Stewardship (educating and shaping disciples in their practices of giving), Missional expression (taking steps as a congregation toward greater outward expressions of ministry with the community), Fellowship (working to build relationships, provide tools for reconciliation as needed, and strengthen true expressions of covenantal community).

Any of those general ministry areas would benefit from reflection on Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, Time-bound goal setting. So why not have the conversation? Pick one or two areas of ministry that you feel led to work toward together in 2023 and begin formulating goals that are specific, measurable, achievable, relevant and time-bound. Be sure to incorporate times of prayer (collective and individual) into the process, so the goals that emerge are led of God. In this process you will unleash imagination, energize participation, and realistically set direction for the coming days, weeks and months.

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A Christmas Prayer

During Advent this year I have been working through a devotional resource called The Promised One published online by Christianity Today. The reading for Sunday, December 18 contained this line that has stayed with me, “Zechariah and Elizabeth’s story offers us perspective on our own seasons of waiting. We’re reminded that there’s no expiration date on our prayers.

I have always found the inclusion of the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth, John the Baptist’s parents, in Luke’s gospel (Luke 1:5-24, 57-80) to be interesting. There are a couple of Old Testament prototypes that foreshadow their story. Abraham and Sarah, as well as Hannah come to mind. These too were folks who knew what it was to wait in prayer. The specific prayer they had on their hearts, like the prayers of Zechariah and Elizabeth, and many couples yet today; was the prayer for a baby. They longed to conceive and become parents, but were hindered in those efforts due to some cause of infertility. Scripture often pronounces it much more pointedly, stating but “Elizabeth was barren, and both were getting on in years.” Have you ever noticed in these instances that it’s usually the woman who is blamed and named as barren? Just saying! Then, to add insult to injury, there’s that comment about their age! It reminds me of trips to the doctor in recent years when his response began “well, at your age”.

But let’s come back to the topic of prayer, and specifically prayer waiting. This line from the devotion, “there’s no expiration date on our prayers” is one that should offer every long suffering prayer warrior hope. Keep praying. Whatever it may be that you are praying about, keep praying.

What lies behind this admonition? Do we “keep praying” in the belief that our prayer will one day be answered as we hope? I’m not sure that’s the rationale. Yes, it worked out for Zechariah and Elizabeth in that their prayer for a baby was finally answered. But there are so many other couples who’ve struggled with infertility that have not had that prayer answered in the same way. So, the admonition to keep praying may not be because prayer will be answered in the way we’ve prescribed, but that prayer will be answered. Prayer will be answered in the way God determines. That may align with our hopes. God may be moved in that direction. But the prayer might also be answered in a different way, an unexpected way.

I suspect the admonition to “keep praying”, as a response to there being no expiration date on our prayers, is an acknowledgement that God’s time is so often not our time. This is where I lift up those Greek words for “time” that we’ve heard, or used, in a sermon: “chronos” and “kairos”. One word speaks to chronology, the sequential measurement of time, as with a calendar; the other speaks to the fullness of time, or God’s time and timing, as with perfect timing or the right time.

The answer to Zechariah and Elizabeth’s prayer, after untold years of praying and maybe being on the verge of giving up, came in the fullness of time as the incarnation came about. Their unexpired prayer was in the ears and on the heart of God as other events aligned in a perfect timing kind of way. John would come as the forerunner of Christ, to prepare the way. The prayers of this faithful couple would come to fruition in ways they’d never imagined. Zechariahs’ temple discovery was that God hears prayers, and God has a long memory when it comes to those prayers.

This reminds me of an experience I had more than once in pastoral ministry alongside the prayers of a faithful spouse, most often a wife, who had spent a lifetime of marriage praying her husband would come to know the Lord. Day in and day out, Sunday in and Sunday out, those prayers were lifted up as she kept her daily practices of faith, and took the children to worship, seated alone without her mate. Perchance he would join her at Easter or Christmas, but there was no pretense of a new pattern, until for some reason there was. I can recall two such men, husbands both who had been prayed over faithfully by believing wives, and others they’d conscripted to pray, who finally gave their hearts to Christ and followed in a profession of faith through baptism. No one was more overjoyed than those faithful praying spouses! They had kept praying, believing that there is no expiration date on a prayer.

At Christmas I’ve often felt led to pray for our world, our nation, and other big items in a special way. I guess it harkens back to the angel’s announcement of “peace on earth and goodwill toward humankind”. This year’s Christmas prayer will include some oft repeated prayers of mine from the past year and years. I pray, for example, for peace in Europe, specifically for the people of Ukraine; but also for peace in Myanmar, and in Haiti and all other parts of the globe where war and violence reign. I pray for a more peaceful nation and homeland, where differences in opinion and outlook are not allowed to fester and divide, where statesmanship will again replace partisanship. I pray for migrant people, many on the move to flee violence, to find peace and know a better life. I pray for mercy from the lands where they go, the shores on which they arrive. I pray for health for all, and that we not weaponize or politicize efforts at healthcare, and that their be greater equity for all people to gain access to it. I pray for congregations to be united and at peace, working together in the cause of Christ’s kingdom. I pray for missionaries who take the good news next door, across the state, nation and globe. I pray for pastors who preach, counsel, guide and work among disciples of Jesus – may they be encouraged in their work, and renewed in their energy. And I pray for families who are apart, that they may be together in-person if possible, and through technology if not, or in spirit at the very least.

I pray these prayers, and invite you to add yours, in the conviction that all prayers are heard, and that no prayers have an expiration date. Merry Christmas. What are you waiting in prayer for this year?

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Matthew’s version of Ancestry.com

In the first chapter of the Gospel of Matthew we encounter a genealogy list. It’s the lineage of Jesus, going back 42 generations. It is listed in three groups of fourteen (Jesus to the Exile, the Exile to King David, and David to Abraham). Ho hum, you might think, as you stumble across all these names; especially if genealogy is not your thing. But let me invite you to linger with this list for a moment. Much as those who dive into Ancestry.com often discover hidden truths, or those who have swabbed their cheek and sent in a “23 and Me” DNA sample learn unknown aspects of their heritage; sitting with Matthew’s version of Jesus’ family tree has its own lessons to reveal.

In addition to such high caliber hall of fame type ancestral names (think Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, David and Hezekiah), there appear the names of five women in Jesus’ genealogy. Not only would it have been uncommon for women to be listed in a patriarchal society, but why the inclusion of these particular women in a male driven system of reporting? What is it that Matthew wants us to know and reflect on as we read names like Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba (listed simply as Uriah’s wife), and Mary?

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The Wonder of Waiting

Meanwhile the people were waiting for Zechariah, and wondered at his delay in the sanctuary. – Luke 1:21 NRSV

I have met very few people who enjoy waiting. Yet, here we are again in the season of Advent, with one of it’s major themes being “waiting”. We await the advent of King Jesus. Wait a minute, you may think, hasn’t Jesus already come? Isn’t Christmas the celebration of his birth? His incarnate arrival on earth?

Yes, but of course this is true. Yet, Advent is also about our wait for the return of King Jesus. We await his second coming, even as we remember and celebrate the advent (or arrival) of his first coming. We wait for the consummation of the age. We wait for the kingdom of God, inaugurated in Jesus’ first coming, to fully arrive in his next coming. Come, King Jesus! How we need you today.

As this Advent season takes hold I have been discovering a new understanding of what it means to wait. You see, I’m in a liminal season myself. It’s a time of new beginnings and transitions professionally and personally. While the new chapter of ministry has begun and continues to unfold with all kinds of new discoveries, challenges and opportunities; it feels like the personal transition is a bit delayed. I’ve already begun this new life among Baptists in the Dakotas, but my wife and household have yet to arrive. This was all by design, a choice we made as my beginning took place alongside the beginning of another academic year for my teacher spouse. Knowing her to be the caring and considerate professional she is, I didn’t want her to have to jump ship mid-year on the lively group of first graders she was just beginning to round into form. So, we wait. I wait. What has already begun is not yet fully realized. What has started will one day be continued, be complete – our move, the relocation of our household and partnership to the same location of shared experience yet again.

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The Importance of Culture in a Pastoral Fit

Last week I wrote a blog post on when cultures collide. I’ve continued to think about the topic of culture, but want to address a more specific aspect as it relates to a church calling a pastoral leader. In this congregational process, which we American Baptists honor as part of our polity, culture can be a determining factor as to whether the call is productive or not.

In working alongside pastoral search committees I have often said that there are two aspects of the cultural fit which a committee, congregation, and prospective pastor must pay attention. One is what I will call the “theological cultural fit”. The second is what I call the “social cultural fit”. Let me explain.

A theologically conservative congregation does not usually want to call a pastor who is not theologically conservative. Similarly a theologically moderate church will probably not do well with a far-right theologically conservative pastor. This may seem like a given, however it’s a conversation that needs to be explored in the search process. Too often persons assume agreement on the basics of Christian doctrine and do not explore the nuances of a topic. For example, I can be a theologically conservative pastor who has a high view of Scripture, sound understanding of soteriology (salvation), traditional views of Christology, missiology and ecclesiology. And I may also affirm the role of women in leadership and ministry, as a conservative pastor or congregation. Yet if I am matched with a pastor, or church, who also espouses a conservative identification, but does not also agree with the view of women in ministry and leadership; there will be tension and strife within this match from day one.

Another arena within the theological cultural fit has to do with one’s understanding of congregational polity and leadership. As an American Baptist I affirm the autonomy of the local church, including it’s right to call whom it discerns God has led to be pastor. I also affirm that the pastor, while called to an office or role within the church, is not to function as as an autocrat but a leader among leaders, working alongside staff and lay leadership (male and female) for the good of the whole. This collaborative style of leadership is one that will not function well within a congregational system that looks to the pastor for authoritative leadership; nor will the authoritative pastoral leader function well in the midst of true congregational polity.

These are but two examples where due consideration of the theological match in the search and call process is critical, and worth more than one conversation. In a time when longer tenured pastoral calls show congregations with greater stability and health, let’s not get in such a hurry that we short-circuit the process and end up repeating it in a couple of years, leaving both a weakened clergyperson and congregation in the wake!

The other cultural fit I identified above is what I termed a “social cultural fit”. By this I mean that the pastor and congregation would do well to come from a shared social understanding or background. The most common example I have used is that a rural congregation is likely to fare better with a pastor who has some understanding of rural life, verses one who’s only life and ministry experience has been urban. The reverse of this is true as well. Of course there will be exceptions to the rule, and we never want to deny someone the capacity to grow and stretch in their appreciation of a different context. Nonetheless, more often than not when we assume the social cultural fit is not that important, in the end it usually proves to have been.

The additional caveat I would include in this post is a combination of the above “fits” as it concerns denominational affiliation. We are clearly living in a day when denominational labels and traditions are not given as much weight as they once were. Congregants choose affiliation with congregations today for a wide host of reasons, with denominational affinity being down the list, especially for younger generations. Pastoral candidates are tempted to do the same. Afterall Baptist is Baptist, right? Well, maybe not!

As a regional judicatory minster who has more than once been called on to mitigate the differences that surfaced between a long established denominational church, and it’s recently called non-denominational, or other denominational pastor; I can promise you that this “fit” is also important. Search committee, pastoral candidate, and congregation take heed. God does work in mysterious ways, but God also works among those who’s streams of spirituality and ministry are most similarly aligned.

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When Culture Collides

The Miriam-Webster dictionary defines “culture” as “the customary beliefs, social forms, and material traits of a racial, religious, or social group”. We are all part of culture, or more than likely a part of several different “sub-cultures”. For example, your cultures might include your family of origin, your family of formation, your work culture, church culture, social culture, educational culture, social media culture, and others.

What cultures or cultural groups do you share an affinity with? These may be variously defined by the kind of music you listen to, how you vote, spend your free time, your choices in media consumption, exercise, worship, what you read, and who you cheer for. But culture runs deeper than surface labels or associations. Culture is felt. It is a core representation of one’s person, the heartbeat we walk to, the song we carry in our heart.

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The Ways We Say “Hello”

It’s been a while since I was faced with saying a general “hello” to a new group of people. I did it 15 years ago when I assumed a new pastoral ministry role with a congregation. I’ve done it since, of course, in meeting new people or small groups. But how do you go about saying “hello” to a group of congregations, pastors and congregants as their regional ministry partner – what we call in our American Baptist tradition – their Executive Minister? That’s the question I’ve been pondering over the past six weeks as I transitioned from the pastorate into a regional judicatory role once again.

Of course I do know some of the “how”. There will be phone calls, zoom calls, emails, texts and messages – maybe even a hand written letter or two. This blog is also a medium I plan to utilize in my hello. But experience tells me that nothing will take the place of, nor be as effective as, a face to face hello. Investing in getting to know someone, or a group/congregation, face to face and person to person(s) is invaluable in the work of ministry. Such encounters teach and show us so much more than the other “stand-ins” can possibly offer. For example, some of the most important ways we communicate are through our facial expression, body language, tone of voice and other non-verbal presentations. You cannot possibly cover all of that by email, text or phone. Even video has its limitations. Some things are simply old school – “hello” is one of those things, in my opinion.

Which means “hello” if done well, requires an investment of time and attention, effort and participation much of today’s culture has found inconvenient and too time consuming. In a day and age when communication is counted in tweets (limited to just so many characters), posts, likes and links; a quality interpersonal “hello” is endangered. Yet the old adage holds, doesn’t it? “You only get one opportunity to make a first impression.”

I spent the past six weeks of “good-byes” in order to be on a good footing for the coming “hellos”. Yet it occurs to me that many (maybe most?) of the people I’m anxious to say hello to, may not feel anywhere nearly as excited about the introduction. That’s the hurdle, sometimes, in regional judicatory ministry. I represent a regional denominational partner, in an interdependent system of congregational polity that is variously valued in today’s world. Some value the connections greatly, and I know I will be warmly welcomed by them as a representative of the greater church, and partner in ministry. Others may be indifferent, lacking understanding of the history, or otherwise occupied with busy lives. I get it. But I’m also praying for the opportunities to make some meaningful initial contacts and introductions that will lead to significant ministry relationships.

I would be remiss to say that these “hellos” are from ground zero. I do already know some of the partners and faces I hope to deepen connection with. The members of the Executive Minister search committee and other staff have already been welcoming from a distance. Now that distance has been bridged and it’s time to roll up our sleeves and serve side by side. What a great opportunity awaits.

I’m sure my “hello” will be different from others. I’ll perhaps not do it quite like the last person, or the one before that. I’m just going to be me and not try to be someone I’m not. So, “hello” ABC of the Dakotas, this Midwestern Indiana grandson of a farmer and small business owner, son of a self-employed hard working dad, husband to a dedicated elementary teacher, father of three and grandad of the three more, looks forward to making your acquaintance. I’m eager to learn what God is up to in your lives, your congregation or ministry, and your community. And I’m hopeful as I learn more about our Dakota Mission, including how we can serve together to advance the Kingdom of God throughout this region and beyond.

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A Generous Life

What does a generous life look like? This has been a question I’ve been spending some time with lately. “A Generous Life” is the theme for the 2023 Stewardship emphasis at FBC Columbus (Sept. 25 & Oct. 2) but it’s also a terrific goal for us as Christ followers.

Are you living a generous life? Consider that question. Don’t be too quick to dismiss or move past it. Think about it. But I have to warn you, it can be convicting!

I believe a generous life is within reach of each of us when we find its roots in who we are becoming in Jesus. In John 14:9 Jesus shares a conversation with his disciple Phillip. Philip has said, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” To which Jesus responds, “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.” It’s easy to skip past this insight, but let’s not do that. When we see Jesus, when we know him, experience him, discover more about him; we are in fact looking at the very nature of God. Jesus is God. God is Jesus. That’s what he wanted Philip, and what he wants us to know.

So, what do we see in Jesus? We see one who is generous. He is generous with his time, with his attention, with his capacity to heal, to forgive, to give people a second chance. Jesus is generous with his love. Why? Because God is generous. God is at God’s very nature a giver. “For God so loved the world that He gave . . . (John 3:16)”

Living a generous life is not about being rich in the ways the world measures richness. It is about how we share our resources, but those resources include so much more than our financial wealth. We, like Jesus, are called as his followers to be generous with our time, our attention, the gifts God has given us, our love, our extending forgiveness.

What is a generous life? It’s a question answered in multiple ways. You know it when you see it. And you also recognize it’s absence in the lives of others you see. For example, when someone is too guarded with his or her time, talent, or treasure generosity is most likely not to be found. If we are more concerned about our “boundaries” or “being taken advantage of” or not doing more than “contractually required” – generosity is not part of our obvious makeup. It just isn’t.

I write this rather bluntly because it’s something I’ve had to learn. I strive to live in more generous ways as I continue to mature in Jesus. For me, one who is inclined to guard or measure energy as an introvert, or time as a busy person, or investment as a thrifty person; this has meant allowing Jesus to rule my day, my calendar, my checkbook – my life.

If you are living a generous life in today’s western, consumer culture of “me, my, and mine” (the unholy trinity) – or just trying to; good for you! You are swimming upstream against a fast cultural current. But you are also swimming the strokes of Jesus, the ways of God, and the faith of a Christ follower.

We need more generosity in our world today. We just do. We need it in the Church and outside the Church. We need it in the workplace, the neighborhood, in our schools and helping institutions. Jesus invites us to grow into this characteristic of his – to make it our own, to live generously. Will we? That’s the rest of the story that remains before us to be written. Let’s write it well.

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The Ways We Say “Thanks”

Expressing thanks can and does take many forms in the diversity of the human population. There is a part of our inner being that causes us to want to express gratitude toward those who have done something for us, meant something to us, impacted our life, or helped us along life’s way. Yet, the ways we give expression to this need for thanks giving are as unique as our personalities and DNA.

Let’s consider some of the ways the sharing of thanks takes form:
Gift giving is a common means employed. The gift is symbolic of whatever gratitude needs to be acknowledged. People can spend vast amounts of time pondering just what the right gift should be. There’s a bit of risk here, because the spirit in which gifts are given and received are not always aligned. Gifts given with all sincerity can be overlooked or under appreciated, making the gesture fall short. As a rule, I think all gifts (even those that perplex the recipient) should be received with graciousness.
Cards can be a frequent expression of gratitude. In cleaning out some files recently I discovered a whole group of cards and notes I’d received. Reading back through them was a trip down memory lane. I not only relived the event, but did so in connection with those with whom it was shared – those who sent the cards.
Hand Written Notes might companion a card, giving it an even more personalized stature. Or such notes might be in place of a card. This medium is rare in today’s world where texts and instant messages have taken over. A hand written note conveys an investment of time and self that warms the heart. The notes that are homemade have carried special meaning for me – whether sent from a grandson or a friend.
Verbal expressions are another means of thanks. These can be informal, as in “I want to tell you what that meant to me”, or formal – in the context of a speech or public acknowledgement. When shared interpersonally, face to face, such efforts span the chasm between people in a way I assume makes God smile.
Acts of Kindness or Service make the list. Have you ever been taken out to eat as an expression of thanks? Had someone step in to take care of a chore or task that is usually yours? This type of thanks giving is a primary language for some.
Bonuses or Monetary gestures are often employed in the business world. The intent is to show someone that their worth is valued, and their service acknowledged. These are practical, bottom line kinds of gestures which can be greatly appreciated and helpful. One hopes they are companioned by some of the softer expressions referenced above.
Receptions, Parties, and Gatherings are also often used for such thankful sharing. We are social beings and find reasons for coming together around food and fellowship, to commemorate friendship and relationships that have built into our lives.

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The Ways We Say Goodbye

I have long been a student of human behavior. Even as a kid I can remember thinking about how people said goodbye in such different ways. Whenever Dad called the house from work and one of us kids answered, he was pretty cut and dry. He stated the purpose of his call, asked his questions and hung up. I hardly ever remember my dad formally saying goodbye. Even when I watched him at work, taking orders over the phone, he would conclude the call with something like, “Well, Ok then” and drop the receiver.

My mother made much more of a production of saying goodbye. She would insist on a hug and kiss on the cheek, and demand reciprocation. She lingered over the goodbyes she gave her children and grandchildren. You could not in good conscience depart her home without participating in the goodbye ritual.

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A Tribute to Mom K.

When it comes to mother-in-laws I won the lottery. That’s not just sentimental hyperbole, I believe it to be true. I write this as the Kline family prepares itself to pay tribute to and honor their matriarch, Joan J. Kline, who passed from this life on July 16, 2022. After a life well-lived (95 years and 9 months) she finished her race.

I first met Mrs. K in the Fall of 1982. The campus ministry of which her daughter Lori and I were participants held a retreat at Tippecanoe Baptist Camp. We stayed in the recently constructed lodge and were hosted by the Kline’s, in their role as resident camp managers. Mrs. K cooked for us and saw to any hospitality needs we might have had.

A few months later I found myself as a guest in her home, as members of that same campus ministry group had shared a deputation service at the Miami Baptist Church. Lunch, with all the fixins was provided by Mom K, with Mr. K. assisting. It was obvious then that large groups of people did not phase her, in fact she thrived in those moments.

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When Freedom Rings

Across horizons of time and land,
responding to justice’s demand,
comes a clarion call for liberty – when freedom rings.

Unfettered chains, repurposed hearts,
it comes at times in fits and starts,
as if a fragile breaking forth – when freedom rings.

Rehearsed in cadences of speech,
brass, woodwind and percussion reach,
to proclaim an overture of peace – when freedom rings.

People going to the polls,
making votes and opinions known,
accepting outcomes, peacefully – when freedom rings.

Quiet classrooms – or chaotic ones,
minus the threat of unwanted guns,
teachers trusted with our young – when freedom rings.

Gold and blue flags wave in summer breeze,
sunflowers unfold toward sunlit ease,
symbols of hope amid war’s disease – when freedom rings.

Opposites consider peace,
first steps hard made by each,
negotiated, bargained and agreed – when freedom rings.

Sight beyond barriers,
determined to become carriers,
of better ways, days and outcomes – when freedom rings.

Redemption won at Calvary,
welcomed by the Highest King,
who the Son sets free is free indeed – when freedom rings.

Rest for all – earth, sky and sea,
God’s creation on tiptoe will be,
as the bells begin to toll – when freedom rings.


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Mirage Meanderings

According to Merriam-Webster a “mirage” is “an optical effect that is sometimes seen at sea, in the desert, or over hot pavement.” It may have the appearance of a pool of water, but it is an illusory or unattainable reality. It also happens to be the name Mitsubishi gave its compact hatchback – an economy car if ever one was made – which I recently drove on vacation over 1500 miles in the great American West.

Our trip took us from Denver, Colorado to Phoenix, Arizona along a circuitous route that passed through Alamosa, CO; Moab, UT; Williams, Flagstaff and Sedona AZ. Along the way we hiked, explored and photographed five national parks, a national monument, a couple of tourist traps, two of America’s metropolitan centers, and some state and local municipal parks. We spent time with family & friends and had plenty of windshield time to reflect.

As I coaxed the aforementioned Mirage up and over mountain passes, through valleys, forests and deserts, even managing once or twice to pass slower traffic; I kept coming back to the irony of its name in connection with it’s performance. While it had the “illusory” appearance of a car, you had to make an appointment with the accelerator to get up to speed. Long term comfort was “unattainable” given they way it hugged the pavement, revealing each and every crack, crevasse, seal, bump, alteration and pothole. Loading luggage was equivalent to working a jigsaw puzzle, as it only fit in one particular configuration. There was plenty of time for thinking with road noise making conversation challenging. And more than once we had a hard time locating where we had parked the thing, given it’s knack for disappearing between larger vehicles.

Please do not get me wrong. This first world problem of transportation did not inhibit our trip or in any lasting way make us suffer. We made all our planned connections, saw the destinations we had counted on, and rediscovered the beauty and wonder of our nation. It was a wonderful vacation on which the Mirage became something we laughed about. Sometimes it even surprised us, proving advantageous when it came to parking in crowded lots and prompting a smile at the gas pump.

In today’s hectic and turbulent world, a vacation can be as illusory or unattainable for some as a mirage. Our ten plus days in the West and Southwest afforded a disengagement from the news as well as the responsibilities of daily life. I disciplined myself not to check work email, to mostly stay away from news sources, and shun social media. Still, the harsh and horrid scenes of the war in Ukraine, and mass shooting in Uvalde came forth. When, if ever, might those individuals find days of extended leisure, travel, or disengagement from life’s hard truths? Such dreams must seem a mirage.

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Life in 3D

For several years I received an in office visit from a traveling salesman inviting me to try some curriculum and services provided by the publishing house he represented. Although I never did make a purchase, he continued to stop by, and we often had interesting conversations. This man had been a local church pastor in a previous chapter of life and carried his understanding of that experience with him. He would say things like, “How are things going Pastor Dan? Are you busy with the 3 D’s?” “The 3 D’s?”, I would ask. “Yes, you know the 3 D’s of pastoral ministry: death, disease, and dysfunction. That’s what pastors always have to deal with.”

I try not to carry such a pessimistic view of the pastoral vocation, but I can appreciate where he was coming from, having had a fair amount of exposure to those 3 D’s over the years. And it’s telling that his reference has stayed with me through time.

This week the United States surpassed the one million mark for lives lost to Covid-19. As I have with each 100,000 milestone, I wanted to acknowledge this one. I choose to do so by assigning the coronavirus those 3 D’s my friend introduced me to. Death, disease and dysfunction have certainly been companions of the virus. One million (and counting) is now the number associated with deaths, in this country, due to Covid-19. World wide the number is much higher. The disease is still circulating. Thankfully not with as much potency locally as the devastating outcomes of before. This is thanks to mitigation efforts including new treatments and vaccinations, along with a higher communal immunity level, due to the prior widespread contagion of the virus. Many of us have had it. More continue to yet today. Dysfunction? Well, surely I don’t need to relitigate the multiple ways dysfunction has companioned the pandemic! Yes, that D is well represented.

My salesman friend has offered an apt description of the past couple of years, and those of us less impacted would do well to remember the many who continue to grieve as they attempt to put their lives back together. But, just as I didn’t want to yield to his description of pastoral ministry, I would rather add a few of more “D’s” to our vocabulary when it comes to our future with Covid than leave it with just those three. Determination is word that comes to mind, as in let’s be determined to move forward doing better by one another and public health in general. We can add discernment, as we learn to listen, watch and promote patient engagement with one another in a mid or post-Covid world. How about discovery as an option? We can discover new opportunities, new expressions of community and compassion in these emerging days. Development may lead us to better cooperation and building better responses. Decency is due all in our common humanity. Being diligent in our hygiene, health protocols and consideration of our neighbor can’t hurt. Maybe this can all contribute toward dynamic changes in how we treat the next crisis of life?

Finally, I look to the Divine One – whom I know as God and Creator, our Savior Jesus, and the Holy Spirit – with humility and intercession, asking God’s grace for our nation and world. What other “D’s” would you add to the conversation?

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Boomerang

His AKC registered name was “Hogan’s High Dollar Boomerang” but we knew him as “Boomer”. His sire was an award winning Welsh Pembroke Corgi, so he came from good stock. Sadly, he succumbed to lymphoma at the age of 9.

When we adopted Boomer at the tender age of 8 weeks we were not looking for a show dog, just a family dog from a breed we had enjoyed before. He was our second Corgi, little short-legged dogs with big dog attitudes, best known as the preferred dog of the Queen of England. High energy, herding instincts, loyalty, curiosity (some would say “nosey”) are all characteristics of this breed. Boomer had them all.

He spent countless hours looking out the front window of our home, watching over the neighborhood, alerting us if something was slightly different. He had his nemesis’ – the squirrels that ran the fence tops of the back lawn, chucking at him with derision as he stood sentry, barking from below; and (for some reason) a certain greyhound who’s owner walked him past daily (never figured out what he took offense to there – maybe it was the long legs?). He faithfully chased rabbits away, nearly catching one or two young ones in the past, but uncertain what to do with them when he had them cornered.

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An Easter Foot Race

Each of the Gospels has its own unique emphasis as it shares the Good News of Jesus’ resurrection. In John chapter 20 we are told how Peter and John ran to the tomb after Mary reported it was empty. Verse four says, “The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first.” Why was this detail of having arrived first, important to John? Did it give him bragging rights? “I beat Peter to the tomb!” I have often puzzled over this aside within the Easter story. On Easter there was a race and John outran Peter. It seems like the kind of detail one commits to memory around a life changing event. It’s the event that is important, but it’s importance is mirrored in the details that are remembered around it. For John, outrunning Peter was one of those details.

But they were not the first to run that morning. Backing up to verse two we see that Mary Magdalene was the first to run. She ran from the tomb to tell Peter and John what had been discovered: the tomb was empty. They ran to the tomb to verify her claim and see for themselves. Lot’s of running.

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When Things Are More Than You Knew

I love to learn new things. It’s part of my personality. Just about the only thing I enjoy more than learning something new is finding a way to practically share it with someone. I guess that is part of what drives my writing and speaking.

Recently I learned something new while on a day trip with my wife to the Falls of the Ohio State Park. This is a lovely little part located on the Ohio River in Clarksville, Indiana. It had long been a destination on a bucket list of places I wanted to visit but had not yet been to. I know, you may be questioning how exciting my bucket list is, but as one who had often driven past the signage for this park, I usually thought, “Someday I’m going to stop there.” So we did. In fact we went there on purpose.

My attraction to the Falls of the Ohio was from having read about this place of geography and its alignment with the story of Lewis and Clark and the Corps of Discovery, and prior to them it’s association with George Rogers Clark, the Revolutionary War hero and frontiersman for whom the city of Clarksville is named. You see the Falls of the Ohio is the place George Rogers Clark called home, and where Merriweather Lewis met up with William Clark (George’s younger brother) to begin their excursion to the great Northwest, a commissioned expedition of the United States government to explore the land of the Louisiana Purchase.

Had I been alive around the year 1800 I would’ve loved to have been part of the Corps of Discovery. Just imagine setting out from the Falls of the Ohio on a 3 year round trip journey, looking for a water passage to the Pacific, and discovering instead a formidable land/water route across the Rockies! I am sure the expedition itself would have proven vigorous and challenging beyond belief, but what I have read of it (see Stephen Ambrose’ book Undaunted Courage) is exciting. So, any chance I’ve had to see the sites visited by Lewis and Clark and their crew, in person I have embraced. This has included listening to Ambrose’s book while we moved from the Midwest to the Pacific Northwest, passing many of the landmarks along the way. I’ve imagined what it was like to set sail up the Mississippi to the Missouri River. I’ve envisioned the winter camp among the Mandan Indians, burying the cache of goods as they pared down their supplies to make an overland route. I’ve surmised what it was to discover and explore the Colorado River, to face the perils of the Northern Rockies in modern day Idaho, and to canoe the rapids of the majestic Columbia all the way to Fort Clatsop on the Oregon coast.

I’ve also thought about the mosquitos, the bitter cold and summer heat, the illnesses and injuries, the adventure and challenge each new turn in the journey brought. I’ve considered the human factors of traveling with people for that long, the different personalities, squabbles over authority and influence, and decisions that had to be made and followed. It’s a remarkable story, this story of the Corps of Discovery, with Lewis and Clark front and center – two friends and colleagues of very different skills and interests. And it all began at the Falls of the Ohio, which despite my proximity to – living just an hour north – I had never visited, until last week.

I knew there was an interpretive center at the State Park, the expected water views, and an obligatory statue of the sojourners (see picture). But I thought I was going to primarily visit the starting point of the Lewis and Clark story. Imagine my surprise to learn that the Falls of the Ohio is so much more. The interpretive center does a fabulous job of taking you through the history, geology and geography of this landmark – a roughly 26 foot drop in elevation over a series of rapids. It’s a unique place of geological preservation where fossils and artifacts of history can be found detailing a much longer story of the earth’s creation and evolution to present day.

We learned about ancient historic periods, including the ice age and it’s impact on the formation of the Ohio and its Falls. We learned of the natural human gathering place this landmark created, it’s influence on history, discovery and settlement of communities yesterday to today. Can I say I was both surprised and impressed? I was. It was the unpacking of a treasure trove of information that far exceeded the primary purpose of my visit. But it included information and imagination about that event in history as well. So there we were, at the very point of departure of Lewis and Clark, but also at a point of land where much, much more has been documented and studied and learned about.

Sometimes the best discoveries are those that are closest to home, or more than one hopes for. If you’ve not been, the next time you are about to cross over the Ohio river on I-65, take exit one on the Indiana side and give yourself permission to learn something new. I think you will be glad you did.

Lewis, Clark and Cash arriving roughly 220 years too late.

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Not This Time

The Preacher of Ecclesiastes, commonly thought to be Solomon, writes in Ecclesiastes 3 “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven“. He then proceeds to list the various things for which there is a time, including in verse 8: “a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.” I must confess to having struggled with that next to last one over the years, and most especially again recently.

I do not understand the reasons Russia, and her autocratic leader Mr. Putin, would feel entitled to wage war against their peaceful neighbor Ukraine. I do not understand the aggression, the violence, the carnage, the hostility and death. It makes no sense to me. It is heart breaking to hear the voices and see the pictures of Ukrainians being forced from their homeland as refugees, and being forced to defend their nation as soldiers.

Many years ago when different war drums were being beaten on the world’s stage I remember discussing with a mentor in ministry how one who follows Christ should feel about this. His response, which has always stayed with me, was “I believe God is always sad when there is war.”

More than any other emotion it has been “sadness” that I’ve felt in response to the news reports, pictures and stories emerging from the ongoing invasion of Ukraine. Lives have been forever upended and altered because of this needless war.

I invite you to add your prayers for peace to those of the multitudes the world over who are engaged in intercession for the people of Ukraine, along with the people of Russia most of whom did not want this war either.

In his appeal to the member bodies of the Baptist World Alliance, General Secretary Elijah Brown said this: “As brothers and sisters within a global Baptist family, we are all called to be both peacemakers and people of prayer,” says Brown. “As one Baptist family rooted in Jesus Christ as Lord, we bear witness to the biblical truth that ‘if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it.’ It is vital for Baptists around the world to stand with those who are suffering and to fervently pray for peace.

Lord, Have Mercy!

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02-22-2022

There are certain calendar dates that get your attention. You know what I mean, right? We all know the date 9-11-2001. Many of you remember 12-07-1941. What about 11-22-1963 or 04-04-1968? Those are the dates of John F. Kennedy’s and Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassinations. Then there is 1-28-1986? That’s the day of the Challenger’s explosion. What about 11-11-1918? That’s the date a cease fire was signed (at 11 a.m.) to stop the hostilities of WW I. Then there’s 5-8-1945 (VE Day) and 8-14-1945 (VJ Day or Victory in the Pacific Day). Every generation has it’s significant dates we commemorate. Some are great, some are sad, most are never to be forgotten.

When you add in your own personal dates, birthdates, anniversary dates, death dates of loved ones, we each have a number of dates we more or less keep track of. They may not be on our minds every day, but when that day rolls around on the calendar, we pay attention to it.

My wife teaches first grade. In first grade they keep track of days. For example the 101st day of school is a big day. It might be associated with 101 Dalmatians. The 180th day of school is an even bigger day – it’s the last day of school for the year. Lori told me that her class would be observing today’s date as well. It’s not often one comes across a date like 02-22-2022. That’s six “2’s”! One of our grandson’s recently turned 2 years old. I think he would be excited about all those “2’s” in todays day. Are you?

On March 2 the first graders always celebrate Dr. Seuss day – its the birthday of Dr. Theodor Seuss Geisel – he of the rhymes and writings of all things seussical. It also happens to be my birthday. I’m not too proud to say there have been years when I was not all that excited to share the day with a guy that has been dead for so long! I’m still trying to get over it.

What are the days and dates that you recall. My Grandma Cash always spoke of “old blue Monday”. Monday, it seems, was the day my Grandpa Cash, her husband, died. She commemorated that day of the week often in his absence. Do you have any days of the week like that? What about days of the month or year?

I have not always done a good job remembering dates associated with loved ones. FaceBook helps me remember birthdays now – sometimes a little too much! But I do remember my Dad’s birthday – 04-07-1929, and my Mother’s 03-08-1932. I could not, however, tell you when their Anniversary comes around – sometime in October.

Sometimes a date only means something to an individual or a handful of individuals. For example, I remember the date I started my current pastorate. My first Sunday was 11-11-2007. This past year I was surprised when a church member mentioned the day to me and told me she had it written on her calendar.

Sundays have always been dates that featured prominently in my memory. It stands to reason that pastor’s know the calendar dates of a year’s Sundays. They are kind of big days in our routine. What are the big days in your routine?

Maybe on this unusual day – 02-22-2022 – it’s a good time to reflect on the days and dates of your life. Give thanks for those that bring a smile to your face. Try to move past the ones that make you frown or worry or bitter. Most of all, thank God for today. There’s never going to be another one like it.

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Why?

*Note: It has been my practice through the pandemic to acknowledge the 100K milestones in deaths in the USA with a post. Sadly, its time for another post as America surpasses 900,000 deaths due to Covid-19. When one factors in unreported and excess mortality numbers (deaths over and above the norm during a crisis situation) 900K is most likely the low end of this data!

The United States has long prided itself on being a leader on the world’s stage. We like to think of ourselves as the best, or at least among the best. This past week we were right there again, leading the way (or at least among the leaders) when it comes to persons who have died from Covid-19. Why?

It astounds me, and embarrasses me, to be affiliated with such a callous national approach to the death toll this pandemic has racked up in our nation. Because it doesn’t have to be this way. It didn’t have to be this bad. Sure, initially while the world and science was trying to get its thinking around the virus, how it spread and why it seemed to attack those most vulnerable; death was on equal ground globally. But then we acquired knowledge on how to mitigate the spread, and then we acquired tools – incredible tools like vaccines – to further mitigate the spread and impact, including the number of deaths.

The response to those tools in the land of the free? Don’t inhibit my freedom! Don’t tell me what to do! Rather than embrace these tools as the gift of science and hope they represent, the tools themselves became politicized and . . . . well, if you’re paying attention at all, you know the mess we’ve found ourselves in. Why?

I think it’s a question worth thinking about? Why? For example, why in a society that continues to have such heated debate on the right to life, protecting the unborn, do we show such disregard for the right to continue living on the other end of life? Why? Why in a nation where we show pride and respect for those who go to war to protect the freedoms and lives of others internationally, do we find it so difficult to agree on measures for fighting a viral enemy at home? I don’t understand.

It does little good to rant, I know this. I have lamented these same things elsewhere, and unless you happen to agree with me, you are probably not paying attention or your just tired of it all and want it to go away. 900,000 no more gets the attention of the masses than did 800,000 or 700,000. It’s just a number – except, of course, it’s not. It’s a name, a face, a person, a loved one, a family member, a parent, a child, a friend, a spouse.

One of my less generous responses to those who want to dismiss the virus as “just the flu” or something with consequences to be ignored, has been to ask: “Have you ever officiated a funeral for someone who died from Covid-19?” Yeah, that’s usually a conversation stopper. But the point is, I have. I’ve looked in the eyes of those who lost a loved one and wished for a different outcome. It was and is very personal, very difficult, and very real.

So, 900,000 is a number that gives me pause, as did the other milestone numbers prior. It’s a number I lament because it represents lives lost. Why?

TOPSHOT – White flags are seen on the National Mall near the Washington Monument in Washington, DC on September 19, 2021. – The project, by artist Suzanne Brennan Firstenberg, uses over 600,000 miniature white flags to symbolize the lives lost to Covid-19 in the US. (Photo by Daniel SLIM / AFP) (Photo by DANIEL SLIM/AFP via Getty Images)

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What I’ve Learned From Having Covid-19

It was bound to happen. My son often says, “I think we’re all going to get it eventually.” I had begun to assume he was correct with the highly contagious omicron variant in high transmission. And, last Thursday, despite my fully vaccinated and boosted status, I tested positive for Covid-19. My first thought, a couple of days before, was that it was another cold, or the resurgence of a cold and sinus infection I had a month ago. But by Thursday things were a different. Achy muscles, low grade fever, congestion, a slight cough along with the prior sore throat from sinus drainage – these were the symptoms. It felt prudent to pay attention to them.

It was nearly impossible to find a test. All the test sites in our county were booked up until the following Monday – four days later! Graciously, a colleague dropped off an at home Covid-19 Antigen Self Test, which proved to be both easy to use and “positive”. I wasn’t really surprised.

Still, I had been careful, not only in getting vaccinated but wearing a mask, avoiding large indoor gatherings, keeping social distance when possible, sanitizing, eating at home or only eating take out with very few exceptions for the past two years. I happen to be married to a very cautious and diligent woman who has stressed these precautions in our home for a variety of reasons: a) Her 95 year old mother with whom we have regular contact, b) three grandsons all too young to be vaccinated, and c) a class of 25 first graders half of whom are not currently, and probably will not become, vaccinated. Plus, as a pastor I did not want to become a carrier of the virus to those in my care, nor be rendered unable to respond to needs that may arise. Nonetheless, while it may have been caution that kept me/us virus free for nearly two years, now I had it.

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A Winter Spirituality

The poetry of Christina Rossetti, who gives us the hymn lyrics for In the Bleak Midwinter asks the reader/singer to pause and consider the spiritual gifts of this season.  Later composed into a hymn by Gustav Holst, this poem, originally titled A Christmas Carol, is replete with the imagery and feeling of this dormant season. Consider a few of the phrases she uses to conjure the imagery of winter’s starkness:

  • “Frosty wind made moan”
  • “Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone”
  • “Snow on snow on snow”

It makes one cold and chilled just reading it! Yet, there is a purpose in winter’s fallow days. It is a season of replenishment as the rains and snows fall upon the earth. It is a season that marks the end to another cycle of growth and life – trees letting go of last year’s leaves and putting final touches on another ring of growth to gird their trunk. Winter is more than a mere season of meteorology, it is a spiritual season as well.

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A Weary World Rejoices

In my experience some of the best ideas in life and ministry are borrowed, so with a nod to Pastor Adam Hamilton of Resurrection United Methodist Church, who’s Christmas Service message bears the title “A Weary World Rejoices”; I offer my own musings on that theme. I assume Hamilton is borrowing the title from the well-known lyric of “O Holy Night”. One can quickly go down a rabbit hole searching the origin of that song, but let’s assume, for the sake of giving credit, that it was an adaptation of a French-language poem by poet Placide Cappeau, written in 1843, composed to music in 1847 by Adolphe Adam.

I confess ignorance as to what may have prompted reflection on being weary in 1840’s Europe, but I imagine each age has its own reasons to feel weary. Indeed it is the juxtaposition of that phrase “a weary world” that can yet “rejoice” that captures my eye and ear. We are a weary world these days, are we not? Weary in so many ways. Let’s recount just a few: We are, of course, weary of the Covid-19 pandemic, weary of death and disease, weary of yet another variant and spike in cases the world over. We are weary of tests, weary of masks, weary of wondering if it’s safe to gather, and what the vaccination status of our neighbor or extended family member at those gatherings may or may not be. In addition, we are worn out by the residual layers that have piled on and fueled our fatigue: division, politics, protests, animosity, recklessness, selfishness, anxiety, stress, and a lack of regard for the other. Yes, weary comes in all kinds of expressions these days the world over. But is it any worse, any more severe than in days past? Even the days that greeted the birth of the Messiah?

That world, at least the part of the world into which Jesus was born, had to have been weary. The people of Judea knew occupation, the absence of true self-rule, oppression at the hands of a foreign empire which taxed them economically, socially and spiritually. It was a world divided, where various sects and groups sought a better future through varied means – strict legalism, power through political partnerships, zealous separatism. Disease and a short life expectancy were also common place for the common person. Weary? There was surely some weariness present in Herod’s, Caesar’s and Caiphas’ world. This was the world of Joseph and Mary, pilgrims who trod from Nazareth to Bethlehem, a long three-days journey by foot, to comply with a mandated registration.

Yet, it was into that world that rejoicing broke forth. Luke tells us that an angel of the Lord broke the joyous news to shepherds, near Bethlehem: I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. (Lk 2:10-11) In response a “multitude” of angels brought forth a celestial flash mob singing: Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors! (Lk 2:14)

Yes, a weary world rejoiced. Shepherds and angels among the flocks and fields of Bethlehem, and not far away a young couple who had just experienced the miracle of birth and new life – swaddling their son in cloth and putting him down for a first nap in a manger. Weariness and joy are natural partners in childbirth, when it goes well.

So, I ask: If then, why not now? Why can’t the weary world of today wrap its collective self around this simple yet profound natal story and rejoice yet again? To think, ours is a world with a benevolent Creator, who having given us free-will did not then walk away from the creation, but set forth a plan to redeem it. Ours is a world created by a God who loves us, seeks restoration with us, and came to be among us – one of us – in order to sort out the mess we humans had made of things. Isn’t that a cause for rejoicing?

We humans continue to make a mess of things, in my opinion. We can no more come to agreement, much less collaborate for the common good, today than in the days of the Herod’s and Caesar’s. The names of those in power have changed, but the behavior isn’t much different. Nations continue to be at odds with one another. Rather than rally together in response to a virus that threatens life, we’ve splintered into camps that point fingers and seek to lay blame. Might we instead set aside the discord for the harmony of Christmas? Can we come together in this season to once again rejoice in the birth of a Savior? That in itself might serve as a balm for our weariness. The act of rejoicing, joining in common joy, thanksgiving, and praise; it’s an other centered act. It takes our focus away from self and puts it on the reason for joy. It’s a recipe for the thwarting of weariness. Let’s try it. What do we have to lose?

Consider afresh the lyrics from the carol, O Holy Night.

O holy night, the stars are brightly shining
It is the night of our dear Savior’s birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
The thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees,
Oh, hear the angel voices
O night divine,
O night when Christ was born
O night divine,
O night, O night divine,

The thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees,
Oh, hear the angel voices
O night divine,
O night when Christ was born
O night divine,
O night, O night divine,

O holy night

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A Word Salad of Sorrows

*Note: Each time the United States has surpassed a 100K marker in deaths due to the Covid-19 pandemic I have felt compelled to lament those who’ve lost their lives. Early on, when there were no vaccinations, this observance felt like a common public lament. Now, when science tells us that vaccinations will safely curb the outcome of deaths and tremendously reduce the chance of hospitalizations, the “common” element seems to have fractured into camps standing in opposition. This is sad. As one who hopes and prays for the greater good, and advocates for public health and love of neighbor; I confess frustration with the stubborn nature of humankind. So often, when presented with a better path, we prove reluctant to take it, and seemingly so determined to stand with a fist. So, putting my cards on the table and owning my opinion, I pray for changed hearts and once again offer this lament on the occasion of our nation having now surpassed 800,000 deaths due to Covid-19. What follows are simply words that came to mind as I took time to reflect on the sad milestone reported on the news today.

A Word Salad of Sorrows

800,000
Lives Lost
Families Grieving
Futures Changed

Variants Identified
Vaccinations Shunned
Pandemic Prolonged
Science Ignored

A Weary World
Silent Nights
Long Haulers with . . .
. . a Different Supply Chain

Prayers Recited
Boosters Offered
Patience Thin
Patients a Plenty

Choosing the Other
Loving a Neighbor
Common Good
Balcony View

Finding the Will
Cooperating Together
Mitigating the Spread
Avoiding 900,000?

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What Giving Thanks Can Prompt

I thank my God every time I remember you . . .“. Those are the opening words of Paul’s prayerful greeting to the members of the church at Philippi. (Philippians 1:3 NRSV). It’s truly a beautiful and bold statement, one of my favorite beginnings to a New Testament Pauline letter. So, it seems a fitting jumping off place for some thoughts on giving thanks in this Thanksgiving season.

Here are three statements about Paul’s thankful statement and what giving thanks can lead to:

A BIG STATEMENT
Not only is Paul’s opening statement bold, it’s also BIG. To so emphatically declare that he is thankful “every” time he remembers these brothers and sisters in Christ must indicate that they hold a special place in his heart. Yet, if we stop and think about it, I would guess we might each have someone for whom this is true – someone for whom we give thanks when we think of them?

Maybe it’s a spouse, child, grandchild, friend or parent. Maybe it’s the person who led us to Christ, or the prayer partner we share our heart with? Who is it for you? Search your mind for a moment to see. Then give thanks for them. Then, tell them! Part of what makes Paul’s statement so BIG is that he shares it with the Philippians. Have you told the “someone(s)” you give thanks for when you think of them, how you feel? Go for it! Thanksgivings that are shared have more impact than those held too close.

A TRUE STATEMENT
I do not get the sense that Paul is engaged in any kind of hyperbole or stretching of the truth with his claim. This is not “preacher speak” or the buttering up of an audience. He is being truthful and vulnerable. Thanksgiving wells up in him when he thinks of these friends as he prays for them. They have been partners in ministry with him. They have stood with him during his imprisonment and separation from them. He knows that they “hold him in their heart”, just as he most assuredly does them.

Sharing a thanksgiving like this requires a certain amount of vulnerability. Many of us are not all that comfortable with such openness, yet that is part of what makes this prayer of Paul’s so memorable and touching. He’s taking the risk of being completely open and honest with his partners in the faith. When were you last this open and honest with someone? What was the outcome? Did you feel even more thankful for them after they returned some form or empathy or understanding? True statements of thanksgiving are often received with reciprocity.

A HOPEFUL STATEMENT
When we are thankful, we are by nature more hopeful. Would you agree? In my experience, both in being around thankful people and practicing thanksgiving myself, I have seen the relationship that grows between thankfulness and hopefulness. It is as if a thankful thought or comment prompts one to look forward with greater optimism and promise. Thankfulness, in this way, becomes a seedbed for hopefulness.

This past summer I expanded my vegetable garden, adding some additional space to the preexisting garden. The land I took in, however, was not in very good shape. It had been occupied for several years by a dead pine tree that over the years had dropped many pine needles and cones. Not only did I have to remove the pine tree and it’s stump, I then needed to cultivate the soil. I began to do this by bringing in some additional dirt, working it in with the existing dirt, and removing (by hand) rocks and other debris that surfaced in the cultivation of the plot. While I improved the seedbed it did not yield as nice or productive a harvest of vegetables as the preexisting garden plot did. I will need to continue working on the foundation of this new seedbed so that it will produce a better yield.

Thankfulness leads to the improvement of our hopefulness seedbed. When we practice thanksgiving it’s as if we aerate the soil, infusing it with oxygen and nutrients that will produce better results. In life those better results from cultivating thanksgiving frequently translate into a more positive, hopeful disposition.

No wonder Paul was so purposeful in the verbiage of his opening prayer to the Philippians. It’s as if he knew that his Big, True and Hopeful statement about giving thanks was going to have a lasting impact on that community of faith (and others) far exceeding his own life. Here’s hoping your expressions of thanksgiving can yield similar dividends this year and beyond.

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For All the Saints

The tradition of celebrating All Saints Sunday is one that goes way back in the life of the greater church. At FBC Columbus it’s a tradition we’ve observed for the past few decades. Our practice on this day is to remember those church and family members who have passed away in the prior twelve months. This is done as an element of worship as members of the FBC Foundation lead in a memorial service within the morning’s worship liturgy. Even though I know it’s planned, and that we will be sharing names and photos of those we’ve mourned on the screen, each time it happens I’m still caught up short with feelings of loss and reflection as we revisit the deaths of a prior year.

On more than one occasion there have been names of my own family members on the screen, and each year multiple names and photos of persons whom it was my pleasure to serve with in congregational ministry, many who’s funeral or memorial service I officiated. It is a special day, filled with meaning for the congregation and family of those honored.

This year I will be using the occasion of All Saints to invite our reflection on that term “saints” that the Apostle Paul used so often in his New Testament epistles. In Ephesians 1:1 he writes “to all the saints”. It’s a title intentionally chosen, not because of that community’s holiness, nor in anticipation of their later veneration, having gone through a beatification process. No, Paul uses the term “saints” much as we might say “believers” or “Christians” in our day. He is describing the collective people of God, in the case of Ephesians, who reside and worship at the Church of Ephesus. In using the term, however, I can’t help but imagine that he’s calling them to an identity in Christ he truly wants them to think about.

In the Apostle’s Creed there is a phrase, “the communion of the saints”. As with Paul’s letter to the Ephesians the term is plural – saints with an “s” and not singular. This seems fitting as a communion is of course more than just one. In the case of the saints of Christ said communion represents both those who follow Jesus on this earth, and those who have gone on to live in Christ, awaiting the Day of the Lord. The saints, then, includes what the writer of Hebrews calls the “great cloud of witnesses” and the living congregants, Christ followers who occupy the churches and homes of today’s world. Together we make up a communion of like-minded, like identified people in Jesus. If you are a believer in Jesus Christ, you are part of this communion, you are one of the saints. When you stop and contemplate the number of persons you’ve known who’ve gone home to glory, multiplied by the number of believers over all time who’ve died in Christ, the cloud of witnesses is “great” indeed!

Often, on All Saints Sunday, I like to imagine the sanctuary filled with those who made this their spiritual home during their lifetimes. So, in addition to the population of those in the pews, gathered for worship, I imagine the saints who’ve gone before. In my minds eye I see their familiar faces, remembering where they often sat, and before long I have a pretty full congregation gathered. This, of course only includes those saints whom I’ve known at FBC. What of the many others who’ve worshipped among this family of faith for it’s now nearly 170 years? Once you begin doing the math, you can’t begin to squeeze everyone into the worship space! Thus the cloud, I guess. Clouds of witnesses to me invite us to consider unlimited seating and participation.

One day we will each experience this gathering with Jesus, face to face. We will bend our knee at his throne and declare our worship in the courts of heaven. We will be part of that cloud of witnesses. Every day will be All Saints day and we will be in the presence of the risen Lord forever. Until then, may the purpose of our worship and our lives be to the “praise of his glory”. May we remember the promise that we are sealed with the Holy Spirit. And may the resurrection power that brought forth Jesus from the grave, empower us, the communion of the saints, to live saintly lives.

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700,000

The sisters of Our Lady of Grace, a Benedictine Monastery in Beech Grove, Indiana toll a bell for every Hoosier who died that day from Covid-19 during their evening prayers. (see link to news story below) They began this practice on July 29, 2020 and have tolled the bell roughly 10,000 times to date. Had they begun in March of 2020 the bell would’ve tolled 15,165 times by now – once for each life lost to Covid-19 in Indiana. One day in December 2020 it tolled 164 times. Were these nuns to take on a national bell tolling, this week the bell would have surpassed 700,000 tolls. Globally the number is now in excess of 4.55 million who have died from the coronavirus.

There is something quite somber about the tolling of a single, solitary bell. It has the capacity to catch your ear, stop and settle your mind, and call you to prayer. The unique ring and tone are quite foreign to the daily noise of life, an exception in the cacophony of sound with which we’ve become too familiar. A bell tolling can cut through the noise, calling for silence and reflection.

This must be the intent behind the nuns’ daily prayer vigil. As the bell is tolled, however many times called for by that day, each ring is given it’s just due – moments of reflection and prayer offered for another life lost. During the week ending September 29, 2021 the bell tolled another 31 times as that many of our fellow Hoosiers gave up the fight, overcome by the effects of Covid-19.

While I cannot speak for the impact this practice has had on the sisters, I suspect it to be wearing and weighty. It seems much of society has moved past a daily reckoning of Covid-19 data, but not the nuns of Our Lady of Grace. No, the bell continues to toll, as many times as needed during evening prayers, in the monastery just south of Indy. These servants of Christ are keeping watch, and holding vigil, for those for whom the bell tolls. I thank them for their ministry.

For Whom the Bell Tolls
by
John Donne
 No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

WTHR story of Our Lady of Grace

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Up and Away

On a recent Sunday morning as I stood outside the front entrance of the church, getting some air and waiting to greet folks as they arrived, I looked up to see a hot air balloon aloft in the distance. Initially hardly more than a speck, the balloon gained in size as it closed the gap between us. Making use of a substantive air current, in just a few minutes it was overhead to the delight of a growing group of worship arrivals. Many, like me, were snapping photos, angling to catch both the balloon and the peak of the church building in their picture. Others were speculating who the pilot might be, naming a local man known to have flown balloons for some time. Some arrived commenting on how they had been watching the balloon as they drove in that morning. Still others were recalling prior hot air balloon experiences they’d had – a ride while traveling in Australia, attendance at the Albuquerque, New Mexico festival.

Photo taken by Dan Cash

I rather wished we could’ve relocated worship outdoors that morning, given the blue sky and warm weather. Then speculated how challenging it would be to keep a congregation’s attention while a hot air balloon went over. Not a chance! I think you’d have to call an audible, suspending whatever was happening in worship, to let people enjoy the sight.

There is something rather uplifting and serene about seeing a hot air balloon aloft. I was immediately taken back a few weeks to having witnessed four in flight together over Colorado while taking a morning walk. Then recalled another occasion, years prior, also in Colorado, having come upon a balloon festival near Aspen. The fields were in full color that day as the balloons dotted the landscape. Maybe it’s the size, colors or the silence of these airborne vessels that can stop you short when you see them. Their hushed travel interrupted by the occasional plume of fire gushing more air into the balloon. It’s the rhythmic music of rests with the occasional whole note of gas, igniting the elevated air ship to greater heights and distance.

Some years ago our church observed our own neighborhood celebration with tethered hot air balloon rides on the lawn. People lined up and waited for their turn in the basket, young and old alike, a quick up and down ride that offered a taste of what such travel might entail. It was a great part of a fun day together, it’s memory brought back by the unexpected spotting of our Sunday morning balloon guest.

FBC Faithful at 50 Celebration in 2014.

Worship is sometimes described as that which creates or facilitates an encounter with God, causing the worshipper to acknowledge God’s sovereignty and holiness. Much effort can go into the elements that lead to worship on a typical Sunday. A preacher will spend hours crafting a sermon. Musicians will rehearse. Worship leaders give much thought the service’s flow. Then there are the other moments, like the one that spontaneously developed outside the front entrance to the church this past Sunday. A moment when an unexpected worship leader caused us to look up, reflect, and notice the wonders of life as God has created it.

Turns out we didn’t need to relocate worship outside the church, it had already happened. We had been called to a moment through the artistry and simplicity of an overhead leader causing us to stop and worship God outdoors, before we went inside to continue.

Photo taken by Wayne Lovelace

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Passageways

I’m drawn to them, those places and images that invite a going through or coming toward. They are passageways, entry and exit points from what has been to what will be. Thresholds and more, offering promise and prompting thanksgiving. Call it a professional hazard of one who has been present as folks unite to cross a threshold, welcome a new beginning, or share a “farewell” and “see you later”. To be present at the passageway times of life – birth, marriage, death – is sacred work. It’s also humbling work, peeking into the intimacy of a family system and coming to share a presence and a word.

These passageways crop up in life, in nature, in travel and in the mundane. It seems we are always coming and going, sometimes with a lack of awareness and abandon that approaches the cliffs in danger; other times in a measured gait that belies our reluctance to enter the work at all.

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Podcast Preview: “Hearing Jesus” – A series on Jeremiah

I’d like to invite you to listen to a conversation I have with my colleagues Daniel Kane and Reilly Jones about our coming worship/sermon series from Jeremiah titled “Hearing Jesus”. You can find the podcast here. Or download it where you listen to podcasts.

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Think on These Things

Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.
– Philippians 4:8 NRSV

There’s an old popular adage that says, “You are what you eat”. I’d like to modify that a bit to “you are what you think!” The same principal applies: If poor nutrition will result in poor physical condition; poor thinking (or thinking on the unhealthy things) will result in poor spiritual condition. Are you controlling the things you think about? What type of “content” do you admit into your thinking, which then incubates in your brain, thus producing thought-plaque and other undesirables?

As inhabitants of the digitized world of information, we need to take responsibility to be the curators of our own thoughts. Just because it’s available, doesn’t mean we need to read it. Just because it appears in our newsfeed, email, or on our entertainment screen doesn’t mean we can’t delete it, block it or refuse to engage.

What if you were to conduct an information audit? That is, for a week or two-week period of time you logged how much time you devote to various mediums of information: social media accounts, news media forums, entertainment media, print media, podcast content, audio books, devotional media and so forth. At the end of the period, tally up the totals and weigh them against one another. What might your comparison exercise reveal? What does it reveal not only about the mediums you utilize, but the content absorbed from them?

Would this type of evaluative exercise point toward a need for change in behavior? In thought content? Were you to make these changes, what results do you suspect you would notice in your thinking?

I’m not sure what all was going on with the Church at Philippi to whom Paul wrote Philippians. But toward the end of the letter he advises them to change what they think about. Philippians 4:8 is a remarkable encouragement verse that calls us to higher, better and more honorable thinking. In doing so it also calls us to higher, better and more honorable living.

Seems to me what was good for Christ followers in the 1st Century should still be good for those who follow Jesus today. Give it some thought!

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Who is Jesus? A Podcast Previewing series on Hebrews

The purpose of this post is to invite you to listen to a conversation I share with Pastor Daniel Kane, our Worship Pastor at FBC Columbus, on a coming worship/sermon series we are sharing on Hebrews titled “Who is Jesus?”.

Please follow this link to listen in.

Hebrews was written to a group of Jewish believers in Jesus whom the writer felt needed encouragement to keep faithful and not grow weary or lose hope. To counter their tendency toward walking away from faith, or falling back into other patterns of faith pre-Jesus, the writer shares a couple of patterns: 1. How Jesus is Greater and 2. Words of Warning designed to encourage their covenant relationship with Christ and the Church.

The Bible Project offers a good overview video of Hebrews.

Right Now Media has a more in depth video study with New Testament teacher Chad Ragsdale.

Be sure to check in with us at FBC Columbus during August as we learn more about “Who is Jesus?” through Hebrews.

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The Freedom Trail

On a recent family excursion to Boston we explored the famed “Freedom Trail”. This is a 2.5 mile path that meanders through downtown Boston, passing by 16 historic locations significant in the nation’s colonial journey toward independence and freedom. It’s an interesting walk that combines the preserved markers of history in the middle of a contemporary urban center that is filled with the sights and sounds of progress. One particular visual that I found noteworthy was an old burying ground adorned with weathered markers and headstones, some of which were located flat against the foundation of a modern office building. The office building’s windows overlook the resting place of revolutionary heroes, buried just feet beyond. Such is the juxtaposition of contemporary life in the midst of history.

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Another Milestone Passed

This week the number of deaths in the United States due to Covid-19 surpassed 600,000. The worldwide death toll is now estimated to be 3.84 million. As the number of cases has significantly dropped in the U.S., in direct correlation to the availability and distribution of vaccines, it’s easy to move past these numbers and this news. We have become somewhat numb to all the numbers, the data overload of cases, tests administered, vaccinations given, and (sadly) deaths. This is especially true if your life has not been directly impacted by Covid-19. Perhaps you had a mild case, don’t know anyone who has been seriously ill, or lost their life. Perhaps you’ve bought into the conspiracy theories too frequently boosted by the politics of it all. You may be an anti covider (anti-mask, anti-vaccine). Afterall we each have the “freedoms” to think what we will, right?

Freedom, however, cuts at least two ways when it is immersed in an ethic of Christ following faith. If I am a follower of Jesus, I am not just free to do what I choose – come what may; I am free to act for the good of others – the love of others, as Jesus put it. In other words, I don’t just make decisions and choices based on what is best, easiest, or most comfortable for me; I consider the other as I live my life “freely”. I am free from the tyranny of oppression, but free for the expression of social good. I am free from the dictates of the state when it comes to worship, but free for the safe gathering of the body of Christ in worship. I am free from sin through the blood and love of Jesus, and free to not knowingly sin against others. Freedom is never just understood or expressed in terms of its individual application. Freedom, for those who know it in Jesus, always has the other in mind too.

For over 600,000 of our fellow countrymen and women Covid-19 brought the worst possible outcome – their death. In the confusion of understanding the disease and how it is contracted, persons often unwittingly shared it with family, friends, co-workers and neighbors. Now, however, we are in a different place. We have a greater understanding of how the disease spreads. We also have (at least in the USA) wide access to mitigating vaccines that have proven very effective in combating the disease. We are free to receive these inoculations. They are even being distributed for free. Our best chance of circumventing another Covid-19 spike and it’s related consequences is directly tied to the good public health practices we have all learned, capped off by becoming vaccinated.

For some, due to complicated health histories, this may not be possible. But for the vast majority of us, it is. Those who are hesitant would do well to speak with their primary care physician and get their questions answered one by one. Then they will be free to make an informed medical and public health decision. Not a political decision. Not a decision driven by fear or bias. A decision made with the best advice of medical science.

Yes, it’s a free choice. There is no mandate. No one can tell you what to do, or make you do it. This is America – at it’s best and it’s worst. But I imagine, many if not most of that 600,000, could they wind the clock backwards, and be given an opportunity to become vaccinated against Covid-19; I imagine many would freely choose to do so.

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Clipping In

In 2013 I took up road cycling as a means of exercise. Living in a community blessed with a growing public trail system and bike lanes on several city streets, this is a method of exercise that I enjoy. I quickly learned that having the right equipment can enhance the cycling experience. This includes having a good helmet, a well working bike, and the right pedals and shoes. The pedals you want are the kind where your shoes “clip in” keeping your feet from slipping off, and giving you a secure connection where you are “one with the bike”. “Efficiency, power, confidence, control and freedom” are all listed reasons one would consider being “clipped in”.

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Brood X and Living in the Present

It’s been 17 years since we’ve seen these creatures, or at least the prior generation of their kind. Some cicadas are annual visitors, but Brood X , the current emerging generation of cicadas (also known as the Great Eastern Brood) are now coming out and up from a 17 year subterranean gestational period to do their thing topside. What is their thing? Finding a mate is a top priority so they can perpetuate the species and come calling again in the year 2038.

Looking Back: 17 years ago my family and I were living in Bloomington, Indiana a densely tree populated part of the state, giving us a front row experience with these dude’s parents. I remember that time well, not just from of the overhead drone of cicada mating calls, but because of other things going on at the time. My oldest sister, Ruth, had passed away that Memorial Day weekend after too short a battle with glioblastoma (brain cancer), and we were participating in her funeral. Driving back and forth between Bloomington and Greencastle, we traversed the forested lands of Monroe, Owen and Putnam counties with the constant musical hum of the full-throated cicada choir in the canopies overhead.

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Logs, Specks and Neighbors

Recently, after a day working in the lawn and garden, I became aware that part of my face felt funny. High on my forehead where my cap fit snug against my temple, there was a little discomfort. I brushed my fingers against it and felt a bump. Occasionally it seemed a little itchy, so I scratched at it. Later that evening I looked in the mirror and discovered the bump was now swollen, puffing out my left cheek and causing my left eyelid to droop.

What’s a guy to do? I showed it to my wife. Complained a little. Took some Benadryl, and went to bed. By the next morning the swelling extended across the top and down below my eye, making it difficult to hold my eye fully open. Weird. I still had no idea what had caused this new look. I did not remember being bitten by any insect, wondered if it was poison ivy, ruled out shingles, and resolved not to google other possibilities.

Later in the day I remembered that Jesus had something to say about folks who are having trouble with their vision. Specifically he said: Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor’s eye. (Matthew 7:3-5 NRSV)

Jesus had a way with words, didn’t he? That particular saying did not win him any friends among the scribes and Pharisees. But, coupled with my own temporary eye impairment, it got me thinking. One of the tragic side effects of the Covid-19 pandemic has been the need to distance oneself from others, especially those of other households. This was true in the pre-vaccination months, but even today we are repeatedly cautioned to maintain “social distance”.

The trouble with such practice, reinforced over months and months, is that keeping one’s distance can lead to isolation, which can lead to myopia in lifestyle, which might result in self-centeredness. (You ever read the book If you give a mouse a cookie? One thing does lead to the next!) One of the social side effects of Covid-19 is the tendency it has awakened in us to critique our neighbor’s speckled vision, when we’ve got lumber trouble in our own eyesight! Why is this?

My faith teaches me that people need people. We were created to be in community. That often translates to a faith community, or to Jesus’ command to love your neighbor. We are social creatures – even the most antisocial among us needs someone. And when we are able to come together and socialize, meeting unencumbered, face to face, there are certain norms of conduct that guide those interactions. In short, we might see some specks on our neighbors eye glasses, but we would never comment on them.

Removed from face to face proximity, the norms seem to change. I’ve noticed over the last many months that persons have said and shared things via the distance of technology (social media, text, email) that they never would have face to face. It’s as though social distance has given permission for some of the norms to be abandoned. We are quicker to point out specks than ever before. The current cultural-political divides are evidence of this. Unfortunately, what has been modeled at the highest levels, when it comes to vilification of others, has filtered down to workplaces, neighborhoods, PTA’s, faith communities and other forums of grass roots level living.

Which brings me back to my temporarily impaired vision. When your eye is swollen it’s hard to see past that. Your vision is a little blurry as you catch the shadow of eyelids, eye lashes, and squint through extra tears. After a day of this you want to go sit in the Lazyboy chair and close your eyes. It’s rather like coming to the end of a day of video calls, or screen work from home. Just about the last thing on your mind is your neighbor, unless of course that neighbor has done something that irks or annoys you just a bit.

The ability to move past such impairment and distortion in eyesight requires us to focus our vision beyond self again. Jesus had things to say about this as well. When asked what is the greatest commandment, he replied: love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. (And) … love your neighbor as yourself. (Matthew 22:37-39)

Could it be that in pointing us toward the love of others, and not just a love of self, that Jesus is revealing how we can deal with the log in our own eye, and graciously overlook the speck in another’s? It seems that this ongoing time of pandemic is calling each of us to deploy what my sister sometimes calls “EGR” living. EGR stands for “extra grace required”. Many of the self-help gurus have counseled this for self during these challenging days. “Give yourself some grace. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” But what about applying that same generosity toward others? Looking outward, not just inward, will improve the eyesight and vision of us all.

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Living the Joy of Easter

This morning I began my day with some time in Psalm 47 and a prayer guide titled The Songs of Jesus by Timothy Keller. Psalm 47:1 says: Clap your hands, all you peoples; shout to God with loud songs of joy. In his reflection on this psalm, Keller writes: “Rather than think of ourselves as an embattled, political minority or persecuted underdogs, Christians should be so over-flowing with the joy of our salvation that we feel the privilege of singing his praise to those who do not know him.” (p.98 The Songs of Jesus)

As Christ followers we serve and follow a risen Savior. He is King Jesus, the One who overcome sin and death. His resurrection, celebrated just last Sunday, makes it possible for you and I to know joy. We can know the joy of our own redemption from sin. We can know the joy of abundant life in Christ. We can know the joy of a promise of eternal life with him when, one day, we enter into our life after death. In short, there is so much to be joyful about.

Yet how often do we project a different message through our countenance, our words, or our behavior? When we go through life long-faced, despondent, complaining or piously encumbered, we act more like that “embattled minority” Keller counsel us to avoid representing. My experience of Easter this year was joyful, was yours?

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Holy Week Pilgrimage

*Note: This blog post is also available as a podcast on “Dan’s Sunday Preview“, a podcast by Pastor Dan Cash which can be accessed at https://anchor.fm/daniel-cash, Apple podcasts and a variety of other sites.

Growing up in a Christian home, Holy Week was a time in the Christian year when I was reminded that as Baptists, we were not alone in this journey of faith.  You see during Holy Week we came together for a series of “special services” with our Methodist and Disciples of Christ brothers and sisters to commemorate the season.

These three congregations in my home community took turns hosting one of three special services – Maundy Thursday, Good Friday or Easter Sunrise – providing special music and preaching on the occasions when they weren’t serving as host.  I found the whole enterprise to be quite interesting.  Sitting in the pews in another congregation was a new experience.  Seeing people from the greater community who were members there, or at another church.  Listening to another preacher – my favorite was the Methodist pastor because he never preached longer than 15 minutes!  In contrast it seemed like our pastor couldn’t wind it down under 30!

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500,000

An unwelcome milestone crossed by a weary nation
“mask up”
“six feet apart”
“wash your hands”
Markers all of public fear fatigue

For some, like the boy who cried “wolf”
disregarded
inconvenient
an assualt on freedom
Not so for those who know an empty place

How does one return to “normal’ when normal left?
missing voice
missing face
missing presence
Slipped away, isolated, no visitors allowed

Repeated across the land, the absence felt
our curve is flat
our goodbyes muted
when we reassemble it will be with missing parts
A quotidian grief

Numbers mount
you speak of the herd
we see the one
now disappeared but never gone
Don’t pretend

Grief denied will resurface

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Leaning into Lent

I was not raised in a family or faith tradition that observed the season of Lent. As Baptists we were what some might call “low church” or of the “free church” tradition. That is to say the liturgical calendar, aside from Easter and Christmas, was not something we consulted on a regular basis. As for Lent, as I’ve often said, that was something you cleaned from the dryer trap.

Upon attending seminary and serving a Chicagoland church as a seminary intern, I learned about the Church Year and had opportunity to participate for the first time in the Lenten season. I learned that Lent was a period of 40 days, plus 7 Sundays, largely patterned after Jesus’ 40 days of temptation in the wilderness. I learned it was a time of spiritual preparation and reflection leading up to Easter. I learned it wasn’t something weird or other, but rather a season in which I could take on some spiritual practices in prayer, study or even mission to focus my own discipleship.

The church I served in seminary had a tradition of holding an annual Lenten Arts series. This was a time when some aspect of the fine arts were displayed in the sanctuary and became part of our worship space. One year it was art from a local sculptor. Another year we borrowed paintings of Jesus’ twelve disciples to display. This was a further enhancement of my experience with the season, and a good reminder – especially for someone who is word focused – that other media can speak to us. I remember studying the faces of the disciples during those Sundays and thinking about what they must have experienced with Jesus.

Today it has become more common for those of us from the “low/free” church tradition to acknowledge and observe the seasons of the Church year. As an American Baptist pastor, who has often felt I have one foot in the mainline and the other in the evangelical traditions, the Lenten season has become one I not only lean into, but encourage congregants to as well.

For me it’s not so much a focus on giving up something for the season, although that’s a fine practice if it works for you. I prefer to think about what practice I might “take on” for Lent. Usually that means reading through one or more devotional books, or changing a prayer pattern for the season, or engaging in some type of mission focus (beyond normal duties). The possibilities for such practices are truly endless. Especially during this ongoing pandemic, it might be meaningful to take on a practice of connection with someone who is isolated; or a good deed to one who needs extra help during the challenges of winter’s snow, ice and cold.

The hope is that these Lenten practices can help us to see life, see others, and see Christ with eyes that are refreshed or refocused. When we live beyond ourselves – helping others, praying for others, connecting with others – we engage in the acts of Christ who called us to love one another. That’s something worth leaning into, not just for a season, but for a lifetime.

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Names, Faces and Stories

You turn us back to dust, and say, “Turn back, you mortals.” For a thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past, or like a watch in the night. (Psalm 90:3-4)

It was my good fortune during a ministry chapter in my life to make the acquaintance of a man who was both a pastor, educator and community chaplain. He may not have officially carried that last title, but in reality he functioned within his community in that way. This man, over 40+ years of serving the same congregation, working in school administration and living in the same community was well known. To sit with him for lunch in the local café was to have your meal interrupted time and again by folks who dropped by just to share some news, a prayer concern, or extend a friendly hello. Over the time that I knew this gentleman I became aware that he had officiated at over 1,000 weddings and funerals in that community.

By comparison, in my now 30+ years of ordained ministry, I have officiated over 170 funerals and about one third of that number of weddings. I think of those numbers, and especially my friend’s tally, as the United States surpasses 400,000 deaths due to Covid-19. This milestone comes roughly one month after we passed by the 300K marker, meaning that the death rate has vastly accelerated. It’s a number that exceeds all the American casualties in World War II, which occurred over a few years. This 400,000 number came in just 9 months. I could hardly fathom the 1,000 count of services my friend had lived and officiated in his small community over a lifetime. But as I sat over coffee with him in that local café he’d comment about the passers-by: “I did their wedding.” Or, “I did her husband’s funeral”. My point is, by and large, he could put a name and face and story to the many services he had officiated. They weren’t just numbers, they were people.

The same is true, of course, of the 400,000 plus Americans who’ve lost their lives to the virus. You probably know one, or know of someone. They may have been your mother or dad, your brother or uncle, grandparent, neighbor or friend. They are more than a number. They are a name, a face and a story. I applaud the efforts of news organizations who try and tell some of those stories each week. If we fail to do so, we become numb to the numbers.

I was moved this week by the display of light in our nation’s capital surrounding the Lincoln Memorial Reflection Pool in honor of the 400,000. It is a solemn and worthy tribute to all who’ve died. May their names be shared, their faces remembered, and their stories told.

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New Year Hope

What are you hoping for in the new year? Have you been thinking about that? The past few days have been filled with people saying how glad they will be to see 2020 go, moved to the year view mirror, or made a distant memory. Those are the sentiments the misery of facing a global pandemic will churn in us. If only it were as easy as turning the page on the calendar. Sadly, disappointingly, we’re likely to awaken to a 2021 that looks a lot like the end of 2020. I don’t mean to be a Daniel Downer, and I am optimistic that 2021 is going to eventually bring a brighter future, it’s just going to take a while.

So, realistically, what are your hopes for 2021? I’ve heard things like “being able to hug my (fill in the blank) – Mom, Grandma, grandchildren, neighbor . . . Having never been one that was too keen on hugs I’d have to say this one is not that high on my list, but I can understand the sentiment behind it. We’ve had to be so distanced from one another this past year, the need for compassionate touch is real. Handshakes, fist bumps, side hugs and even bear hugs will be welcomed (for the most part) in 2021. I envision a day when we can have a big facemask bonfire, shake hands at church again, and serve each other communion (though perhaps those things do not happen all together).

What else might we be hoping for? Speaking of church, I’m hoping for the resumption of in-person worship. We did 20 weeks of online only worship in our congregation in 2020 and we will begin 2021 that same way. I have not seen some people face to face since early March of 2020. While I am thankful for the ability to be connected in that way, I’m ready to see people in the pews again. Aren’t you?

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300K

“Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid . . . “ (Isaiah 40:1-2a NRSV)

This week the United States will surpass 300,000 deaths due to the Covid-19 virus. That is equivalent to a pretty good sized city. Pittsburgh was given as an example on one news report I heard today. I’ve been to Pittsburgh. Went there on a Sabbatical trip a few years ago to visit a couple of churches. I took time to walk around down town, through the farmer’s market and revitalized warehouse district. I went down to the waterfront and spent some time where the three rivers meet at Point State Park. I saw a lot of people that day, out enjoying their city – individuals and couples and families. It would be hard to imagine that vibrant city suddenly empty of it’s population. Yet, that’s the number of lives lost so far in 2020 to the coronavirus in the United States.

Sure, 300K out of the roughly 328 million USA residents may not register much of an impact percentage wise, but it does exceed the number of United States combat deaths during World War II. Over the past few days the daily death toll has risen to exceed the number killed in the attacks of 9/11 or Pearl Harbor. Perhaps you’ve known someone who lost their life? Perhaps you know someone who is fighting for their life? Maybe you are among those who work on the front lines of healthcare trying to preserve lives, or – sadly – representing humanity as lives slip away. Thank you.

Empathy is the ability to express concern because of a similar lived experience. Those who’ve lost loved ones bring empathy to their comforting efforts with others. Sympathy is the capacity to understand that someone is hurting or suffering. As we pass this milestone in the midst of the ongoing pandemic, our neighbors and fellow citizens who have suffered the direct loss of a loved one this year deserve our sympathy, at the least, and our empathy if we are able to share it. 300,000 holiday celebrations across this land will be missing someone. 300,000 households, families, or sets of friends will remember who should be with them, but isn’t.

No, it’s not the same as losing the population of a good sized city all at once. The pain isn’t that geographically concentrated. It’s more diffuse, easier to avoid noticing – especially if you’ve escaped direct impact. But it is still painful, and very real, and needs to be acknowledged.

The prophet Isaiah’s words, quoted atop this post, were shared to a people who faced the horrors of exile. Amidst that tragic event in the nation’s history, God sent a word, but not to spare the nation from what was happening. They still had to endure the exile and go through its suffering and loss. But God, through the prophet, let them know they were not alone. God brought a word of comfort to their grief and loss. It seems the least we can do, in God’s name, for those who suffer now.

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Best Laid Plans

2020 has been a year of plans made, plans re-made, plans announced, plans adjusted, plans cancelled, and plans repurposed. Most all of this has been due to the Coronavirus and it’s ebbs and flows, spikes and surges. Businesses, schools, families and congregations have had to adjust their plans accordingly. Just when we think we’ve arrived at a plan that will work, some adjustment is required in response to the ever changing situations driven, writ large, by the virus.

This has caused me to think about God’s plans – or, namely God’s plan – announced and reviewed during Advent. We often turn to the prophets during this time of year, most especially Isaiah, to remember how God announced the plan of the Messiah. Texts such as Isaiah 7:10-17 (v.14 says, the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel) or 9:2-7 (v.6 says For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace) offer snippets of the plan. The plan is further announced in Isaiah 61, a passage Jesus quotes for his first sermon in Luke 4:18ff: The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news. . .

When we consider the full story of the Bible, we come to view God’s plan not so much as an unaltered script unrolled at creation, but a plan that has been edited and revised, always with the purposes of God’s love and justice in mind. Consider that on the seventh day, God rested having pronounced the creation very good. Yet shortly thereafter humankind yields to sin and what was perfect is marred. Does God give up on the plan? Hardly! God sets about redeeming and restoring creation, including the redemption of the crown jewel of that creation – humankind.

The plan is altered, revisited, and unfolds in a sequence of narratives from the do-over of the flood and covenant made with Noah, to the covenant with Abraham (a redemption covenant through which all persons shall be blessed), to the covenant with Moses, then David (who will have an heir that reigns and rules forever). The plan is nuanced and flexed to include such unlikely persons as Rahab and Ruth. It overcomes the fickle and imperfect lives of David and Solomon, incorporates the humble lives of Mary and Joseph; yet all along the Lord works the plan. Throughout it is the same plan, just altered and revised so as to account for the unpredictability of free choice, and the ever present love of the Creator who designed it in the beginning.

The plan comes into a greater focus at Bethlehem with the birth of Jesus, though the Christ is present and foreshadowed in many prior ways. It’s in Jesus’ life, ministry, death and resurrection that the plan follows its course toward creation’s restoration. And one day this plan will come to a perfect conclusion, upon the return of King Jesus, as a new heaven and new earth are revealed.

We revisit and rehearse this plan during Advent, and throughout the Church Year. Why? All for the purpose of finding ourselves in it, I suppose. We play a small part, though I suspect the Lord would say there are no small parts. As the object of God’s love and joy with creation, we are part of that which was first pronounced “good” so long ago. It’s in restoration of that “goodness” that this plan has continued to be followed and fulfilled. Sometimes plans are worth revision. Despite the throw away tendencies of our own time, some plans are just too important to abandon. Aren’t you glad?

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Daffodil Delight

A few years ago now we purchased a home where a prior owner had planted a varied assortment of daffodils.  These clusters of bulbs gave growth to shoots of green in the early to middle weeks of February, about the time of our move in.  In the ensuing days we would delight in watching how they bloomed, and their varied displays of spring color.  We discovered traditional yellow daffodils, some with a white outer bloom and yellow, almost orange, center; and still more that were miniature versions of the aforementioned traditional yellows.   Clusters of these flowers came forth among the landscaped beds that bordered the back, side and front lawns.  Some clusters even emerged amidst the lawn.  There was no mistaking the fact that the one who had planted them loved her daffodils. 

That first spring of our occupancy happened to coincide with the global pandemic of 2020, which gave the daffodil show even more meaning in my book.  While the world was trying to come to grips with what the pandemic meant, embracing lockdowns and quarantines, our lawn was virtually bursting forth with brilliant color.  It was a not-so-subtle message of hope amidst the news of despair that continued to bombard us. 

This now is the third spring since, and once again the daffodils are doing their thing.  They got off to an early start as warmer weather prompted their cycle of growth this year.  Shoots were emerging in January, with first blooms coming mid to late February, or sooner if in a protected pocket where the warmth of the sun coaxed them forth.  I’ve transplanted most of the lawn bulbs back into the landscaping with mixed results.  All have come up, but some seem to protest their relocation by refusing to bloom.  Still, overall we’ve had a customary show of yellow, white and orange dazzle against the backdrop of a greening lawn and the beige of mulched flowerbeds.

Then, over the past few days, as is typical during an Indiana March, a cold snap has hit.  The immediate impact on the daffodil blooms was an obvious shock that found them with lowered foliage, and drooping heads.  A few flakes of snow rested on the blooms, with more covering the surrounding lawn.  Had our hopeful friends misjudged the timing of their show?  Would they now succumb to an early end? 

Sadly, some – those in the less protected pockets of exposure – seem worse for wear.  Yet, others purposefully bounce back as the sun rises higher and warms their faces.  They once again display their resilience as an early spring flower, combating the less than friendly environs of their stage.  They will not be silent nor allow their contribution to this change in season to be easily thwarted.  Once again, they speak hope into the world for those who will pause long enough to notice.

Hope is a message of near constant need for the human condition.  Hope assuages the uglier messages of despair and doom of which our ears and eyes more often partake.  I wonder, as I contemplate this year’s daffodil show in our lawn if daffodils bloom in Ukraine?  I wonder if they adorn the table tops and bedsides of those who’ve suffered loss, as they often adorn our dining room table?  They are for me a symbol of the need and possibility of persistent hope in the human condition.  May their message be seen and heard with regularity!

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