Thursday, April 30, 2015

Knowing God

April 30, 2015

This morning's Scripture reading highlighted a pair of texts from 1 John; 2:3 (We know that we have come to know him if we keep his commands.), 3:6 (No one who lives in him keeps on sinning. No one who continues to sin has either seen him or known him.), and 4:17 (By this, love is perfected with us so we may have confidence). I've often wondered about what the NT writers had in mind when they spoke about knowing God. The way many modern writers describe it, knowing Christ is primarily a subjective emotional experience, which is something I relate to only with great difficulty. I know what it means to follow Christ (which is what he commanded his disciples), and I know what it is like to learn about him (Matthew 11:29), but when people talk about having a relationship with Christ, I'm not always sure what they mean. For me, it has often felt like a celestial cat and mouse game. I don't mean to be disrespectful, but when I hear people say that God wants to make himself known to us, I again wonder what they mean by that. I believe that God took the initiative to make himself known, but there have also been plenty of times he has chosen to remain hidden. Jesus himself said as much when he spoke of the Kingdom of God being like a treasure hidden in a field, or when he said that his speaking in parables was intended to hide truth from some people.

But John says something very profound here. Knowing God is intimately linked with obeying his Word/keeping his commands. Obedience is so much the deciding factor that John says love is perfected, (or completed) in it. Obedience gives us spiritual confidence, as anyone can attest by the sense of guilt and loss of confidence that comes when we sin. Proverbs 28:1 gives us the converse of that guilt when it teaches that "The righteous are bold as lions." Keeping God's Word is key to knowing him, so much so that John relates in his gospel Jesus' words that "Whoever has my commands and keeps them is the one who loves me. The one who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love him and show myself to him." We cannot keep God's commandments in our own strength, so seeking him for strength and grace is not only essential, but when we seek the gifts, we also find the Giver.

I am thankful tonight that knowing God has less to do with any emotional sense of well-being, and everything to do with knowing and obeying his Word. For when I study the Scriptures, they always leads me to know Christ, as he said, "they testify of me."

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Help from a Stranger

April 28, 2015

While in town today, I needed to pick up a pair of small needlenose pliers for adjusting the reeds on my bassoon. So after having coffee and conversation with my friend Cameron, I headed from Starbucks across the road to Home Depot. While there, I decided to pick up a stinkin'' trinket for Linda. We used to have a collapsible leaf rake the tines of which were adjustable from about 8 inches wide to over two feet. It was handy for getting in between the plants in her gardens, so when it disappeared, she wasn't happy about it, and I thought that today would be a good time to replace it.

I checked out the garden department, but couldn't find what I was looking for. Just about then, a worker walked by and asked if I had found everything I wanted. I told him, no, I hadn't, and proceeded to describe the rake. "I've never seen anything like that here," he replied. I turned to go when a man called out to me.

"You looking for a collapsible lawn rake?" he asked.

"Sure am," was my reply.

"Well, I had one in my hands just a few minutes ago. I was at the Dollar General down on 3rd street next to the Farm Fresh. You know where I mean?"

"I do. Thank you."

"It was pretty sturdy, too; not one of these flimsy things that falls apart after you use it a couple times."

I left Home Depot and drove straight to the Dollar General. Sure enough, they had a box of them on a shelf. Six bucks apiece. I bought two, and tonight I am grateful for a stranger who overheard a conversation and stopped long enough to tip me off about this rake I wanted to get for Linda, but couldn't find in Home Depot. Without his intervention, I never would have thought to try out the Dollar General. It's pretty small stuff in light of the riots in Baltimore and the earthquake in Nepal, but most of life is small stuff, and since there's so much of it, it pays to be thankful for it.

Monday, April 27, 2015

Confidence Worth Keeping

April 27, 2015

Hebrews 10:35-36 warns us to not "throw away our confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance..." This comes on the heels of his commending his readers for their faithful endurance in a time of testing and the encouragement they gave to others in the same. Past success is no guarantee of future faithfulness. We have all known people who were models of faithfulness through tremendously difficult times, who later collapsed in the face of relatively minor trials.

This 'throwing away of our confidence' intrigues me. There seems to be a fine line between a confidence in Christ that carries us through hard times, and a careless boldness that ignores both the disciplines that strengthen our faith and the danger signals that warn us of brewing trouble. This "throwing away" of our confidence seems more than the mere carelessness or weakness that plagues us all at times; it is an active negation of faith such as often happens when God's actions don't line up with our expectations. We get disappointed, and our disappointment often ends up in our actively throwing away, or abandoning our confidence in God.

Confidence in the faithfulness, love, and sovereignty of God is absolutely essential if we are to endure life's troubles. The text ends with the promise of Christ's return, and the reminder that "the just live by faith." In this life, we don't always get to see clearly the work and plan of God. St. Paul says, "We see through a glass, darkly." In his mysterious sovereignty, God doesn't often choose to reveal to us his plans. We may be able to discern the broad outlines of it, but the details baffle us. How does yesterday's earthquake in Nepal, with its devastation and loss of life fit into God's plan? How would we go about explaining God's work to a mother grieving the discovery of her daughter's body in the rubble of Kathmandu? We see darkly, at best, which is where faith comes in. Faith in the wisdom, mercy, and love of the Almighty Father of our Lord Jesus Christ is what gets us through those parts of life that make no sense to us.

But that faith; that confidence, is easily thrown away. It doesn't take much to divert our attention to the problems and troubles of this world. There is plenty going on that has the capability of destroying our confidence, and when confidence is gone, so is hope. We maintain our confidence by actively focusing on Christ and his promises. To let go of these would be fatal. But we hold on because as St. Paul says in his letter to the Philippians, "Christ has taken hold of us" (3:12). I am grateful tonight that Christ has taken hold of me. It is his grip on me that gives me the confidence I refuse to throw away. It takes faith to hold on, and faith comes through God's Word (Romans 10:17). So I keep reading, that I may develop the faith I need to hold on to that which I dare not discard. And I am thankful tonight for the warning the Scriptures give me to hold on and not let go.

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Sweating it Out

April 25, 2015

Although it was cool outside, I was sweating. Linda informed me this morning that I needed to make a choice: wire the garage or clean up the brush pile. I ducked and dodged as best as I could, but she was relentless, and I finally gave in. The brush pile it was. I was a bit worried that the ground wasn't yet hard enough to drive on, but it handled the truck and trailer quite well. Two years ago, we began to clear out some of the sumac and thornbriars in our back yard along the creek. We didn't have a trailer at the time, so I just piled it, thinking I could burn it when it dried out. As it turned out, sumac doesn't dry particularly well, and is so punky it doesn't burn. Last summer, we added to the pile. Dragging the larger pieces out of the pile and loading them onto the trailer was quite a job, hence the sweat.

We got one load delivered to the village compost pile, but have at least another load to go, not counting the brush we haven't yet tackled. It makes me appreciate those homesteaders who moved into this area two hundred years ago to clear the land for planting. I'm dealing with brush; they cut down entire forests.

Earlier today, Linda was showing me a family history with photographs of some of her ancestors. She had visited her aunt Kayla in the nursing home the day before, and they had gone through some of the family tree. Aunt Kayla is getting frail, so Linda wanted to do this so the memories wouldn't be lost. The actual family tree is just names, but when you see the photos of those men and women scowling at the camera lens, you know you are looking at hardy stock. They scowled because the photographic process back then was so primitive that it took a minute or more for the chemicals on the plates to react to the light. No one could hold a smile that long. Even so, you know you're looking at some very tough people. Their surroundings are either quite sumptuous if the picture was taken in a studio, or completely spartan if taken on location.

We didn't go through my family albums. I can trace family photographs back to the Civil War, and someday I'll organize them, but today was work day. My arms are scratched up, but my muscles aren't sore. I've cooled down from the sweaty mess of this afternoon, and am grateful tonight for the creature comforts I enjoy. My home is warm; I have hot or cold water at the twist of the tap, my chair is stuffed and my bed is soft. The amenities I take for granted would have been the envy of kings a mere 200 years ago. Less than 100 years ago, my grandfather who operated a linotype machine for the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle, couldn't imagine typing on an iPad and posting it online for all to see. Again, I hear the words of Christ ringing in my ears, "To whom much is given, much shall be required," and I tremble at the thought.

Friday, April 24, 2015

Time to Even the Score

April 24, 2015

Poppa Henthorn (my maternal grandfather) thought that someday I'd kill my brother. I can't remember how many times over the course of years I've heard that from my mother and father. Apparently I had a pretty violent temper, although I don't remember it, except for the time I stabbed a kid in junior high. My parents repeatedly reminded me of the time I chased my brother through the house with a baseball bat. He was older and bigger than I, but I guess a baseball bat is an equalizer.

The day began with writer's club at the library, followed by a visit with my friend Rick in the hospital. Then after band rehearsal, I drove straight to prison for Friday evening Bible study. In our discussion group, one man who received Christ at the Keryx weekend told of how he used to wake up depressed because of his surroundings, but how he now wakes up happy. Another mentioned the difficulties he's faced this past week, and a third spoke of how he's been witnessing to his bunkies, and of how he likes to paint and hopes for a painting job in the prison. He's been there for 25 years.

I can't imagine prison doors clanging shut behind me, knowing this is my life for the next 25 years or more. The man beside me tonight who is doing that kind of time is about my age. He was a young man when he entered, and will be an old man when or if he gets out. I can't even imagine living there for two or three years. The men are there because of crimes they committed, but as I drove home, I remembered my mother's words and know it is only the grace of God that has spared me from a life behind bars. Tonight I'm lying in bed beside my wife as I type, and I am deeply grateful that God spared me. Why me, and not them, I'll never know, but I am thankful tonight that he did, and know the truth of Jesus' statement, "To whom is given much, much shall be required." One thing I know: I owe these men. I've received much; they have not. It's time to do my best to even the score.

Thursday, April 23, 2015

Cheap Grace

April 23, 2015

A friend recently sent me a manuscript, asking for my opinion. Apparently, being a pastor qualifies one to critique a book on Christian discipleship, which is what this particular book is about. His basic premise is that we of the Christian West have watered down the Gospel, diluting it to the point where it would be almost unrecognizable to the Biblical writers. In the 1940's, Dietrich Bonhoeffer in his book "The Cost of Discipleship," wrote of cheap grace that has the outward appearance of the Gospel, but is devoid of its power. Sadly, there is much cheap grace being bandied about these days, and my friend is deeply and rightly concerned about it.

Just the other day in a conversation in which we talked of some people who had recently professed faith in Christ. They prayed "the sinner's prayer," but of those three people, to my knowledge, only one has followed up their profession by showing up at worship. This is unfortunately, more of a pattern than we would like to admit. With media preachers spewing a prosperity gospel that essentially tells people what they want to hear, viz. that God wants us all prosperous, the demands of Jesus to take up our cross and follow him sound unattractive by comparison. And yet, that is exactly what Jesus commands. He is clear that being his follower will sooner or later bring trouble our way.

Discipleship...REAL discipleship is only possible when we walk through the door of repentance, recognizing the breadth of the breach between us and God that our sin has caused, and turning our backs on the course of life that only widens that gulf. It is founded upon the realization that sin is so heinous and ruinous that the only remedy was the sacrifice of God's only Son. And it is only when we understand this that grace and forgiveness can do its work in us. After all, if I don't see the need for grace, it won't be valued or trusted for what it is; the expression of the heart of God.

Tonight, I am grateful for this reminder that grace isn't cheap, that our salvation was won at an enormous price which was payable only by Jesus' divine sacrifice of himself for love of us. "The one who is forgiven much, loves much," Jesus said. Knowing the enormity of our sin enables us to experience the vastness of grace...and to give thanks.

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

I'm Not Alone!

April 22, 2015

A couple weeks ago, our granddaughter Alex came down with some sort of rash. It looked like a bad case of hives, which might not have seemed problematic until a day or so later, her lips started to swell. Her mother has a severe allergic reaction to shellfish that can swell her throat tissues, making it hard to swallow or breathe, so this was nothing to ignore. We got a call in the middle of the night telling us that her dad was taking her to the emergency room. I took the call on my cell phone that I keep on the nightstand by our bed, and in the dark and my sleepy state, I set it down in the cup of tea that I hadn't finished earlier. It was past time to replace it anyhow.

Today, I had an appointment with my audiologist for a hearing test. For about a month now, everything has sounded muffled, like my head was under a pillow (You can spare me the snide remarks; I've probably thought of most of them anyhow). A week ago my left hearing aid quit altogether, and the right one is just barely hanging on. Before I can get them replaced, we needed the test as a present benchmark to see how much my hearing has changed since the last test eight years ago. I tell you this to say, "I have an excuse." I am often the butt of family jokes when at the dinner table I ask a question that has just been discussed. Turns out, I missed the conversation except for perhaps a word or two that must have sparked something in my subconscious. As I say, this happens all the time.

Monday night we gave Al a ride home from church. It was only a short hop from the church to their house, but we had enough time to ask about her medical situation. Al told us that although she was much better, her throat still felt itchy and sore, whereupon Linda asked, "And how does that feel?" Al in the back seat, and I in the driver's seat simultaneously looked at Linda and began to laugh. I think I laughed the loudest. It felt good to know I'm not the only one who asks dumb questions, but even better to know that I'm the only one to have an excuse. Obviously, not everything I'm thankful for is spiritual, but that doesn't make me any less thankful tonight. In fact, I'm pretty happy just thinking about it. Linda however, may not be, when she wakes up in the morning and reads this for herself. I'm either brave or stupid, but I'll risk it.

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Practice Makes Permanent

April 21, 2015

Tonight I practiced both my bass and my bassoon. In our upcoming New Horizons Jazz Band performance, there are a couple places where the bass line amounts to a solo, and I don't want to mess it up. I've been working regularly on the pieces we'll be performing, and bit by bit, I'm moving towards being able to play it flawlessly. For these fumbling fingers, that's quite an accomplishment. On the bassoon, I began working on the lesson book I bought last week. Bassoons have one of the widest ranges of the scale of any wind instrument, a full three octaves and more. The fingering of the highest notes of the upper register are oddballs that don't follow a logical order. I've learned a few of them, but I have to keep checking my fingering charts. My lesson book is taking me to places I've never been before, but again, bit by bit, I'm learning them.

Pastor and motivational speaker John Maxwell, once said that "Practice doesn't make perfect; practice makes permanent." Anyone who's tried to unlearn a bad habit, whether it's a golf stroke, swinging a baseball bat, or the mishandling of a firearm, know the truth of his statement. Practice is a good thing, so long as we are practicing the right things in the right way.

My favorite quote regarding practice is "You can't get by trying what takes training to achieve." In Christian circles, we tend to think that trying harder will help us be the persons we ought to be. Of course, such thinking is nothing more than legalism. And it doesn't work. I could try all day to bench press 300 pounds, but no amount of trying will get the job done. People who have trained, adding weights a little at a time, are able to do it with ease.

When I first picked up the bassoon after a fifty year hiatus, I tried hard, but my playing was pretty dismal. One evening while I was practicing, Linda was talking with her sister on the phone. "What is that noise?" Penny asked. I have to admit, it sounded like a moose in labor. But I've been practicing, and bit by bit, it's sounding better and I can play stuff that was beyond my abilities a mere months ago.

It's the same in life. The Christian disciplines of prayer, Bible study, meditation, worship, tithing, the sacraments, and such, are not meant to earn our salvation; they are the means by which we practice holiness "without which we will not see the Lord" (Hebrews 12:14). Just as in any discipline, if we practice the wrong things or do it the wrong way, we won't get the results we need or want. Casual skimming of Scripture and disjointed or selfish prayers won't help us in our desire to grow closer to Christ. Neither will giving or worship in which we are more concerned with how we appear than that Christ is honored.

Tonight, I am grateful for musical disciplines that remind me of the spiritual disciplines I need. I am too prone to laziness and carelessness, and need the reminder that my instrumental practice gives me, calling me to give God the same kind of dedication as I give my music.

Monday, April 20, 2015

Making Music

April 20, 2015

One of my music books came in the mail today! That probably doesn't mean much to anyone but me, but I am delighted. With the spring band sessions ending in a couple weeks, I wanted something to help me keep in playing shape, so I ordered a few books online. This that arrived today is no ordinary music book. It is one of the series I used in high school when I learned to play the bassoon. AND, it is the advanced book! The best part is as I looked through it (I haven't yet had time to actually try out its routines), I think I can actually play much of it. A year ago, I wouldn't have been able to say that. The instrument I was using was getting in the way of my progress, but the instrument I now have is allowing me to actually improve. I'll never be a virtuoso, but getting better so I can actually make music pleases me greatly.

There aren't too many places to play a bassoon. Church bands don't generally have a place for the bassoon, and I can't remember the last time I saw a rock or country band advertise for one. Almost any other instrument you can name can cross from one musical genre to another; violins, trumpets, flutes, clarinets, saxophones are found in concert bands and orchestras, in jazz bands, dixieland, big bands, and others. The bassoon? Not so much. Years ago, I had an LP of a jazz bassoonist, but that was like the instrument, a bit of an oddity. I can truly say that I play for my own enjoyment. Except for the bi-annual concert given by the New Horizons Band, my wife is the only one likely to hear me play, which is probably just as well. In another week, a couple more books I ordered should arrive, keeping me in music till band starts again next fall. There are many things for which I am thankful tonight; music is but one of them. Listening to it is nice, but making it is better, even on a bassoon. Tomorrow, after I finish the work projects I have planned, I think I'll do just that.

Sunday, April 19, 2015

A Job Unsought

April 19, 2015

Between worship services today, I had an interesting conversation with my friend Steve, who was in prison ministry with me last weekend. Part of the ministry includes Friday night Bible studies with the inmates, one of which Steve attended two evenings ago. With nine grandchildren showing up at our house for the weekend overnight, I was unable to attend.

"I've got a new job for you," he announced,smiling facetiously.

"Really?" I responded, somewhat incredulous. "And what would that be?"

"Pastor of the prison church," he responded. "The guys all thought you should be the replacement for the pastor who is retiring after twenty-some years. All the guys who were at our table want you, as do the others."

I'm not thinking that's going to happen. First of all, I am retired, and not looking for another full time job, which that would be. Secondly, I'm pretty sure the prisoners don't get to choose who gets hired as chaplain of the prison. My third reason these men blew out of the water. When I agreed to be spiritual director for the weekend, it was with loads of hesitation. Prison ministry is outside my comfort zone; WAY outside! I feel like a fish out of water. And this spring, my schedule prohibited me from attending most of the preparatory meetings. When our granddaughters' school musical got postponed to that weekend, I was ready to bail until I remembered something my mother taught me as a child: "When you make a commitment, you stick to it, even if something better comes along." I reluctantly followed through on my commitment, and at the closing program told the men how hesitant I was, but how much I learn and receive from being with them.

At the Koinonia closing program tonight, Linda was talking with one of the women who reported how much her husband thought of me after working together on one of the teams. "You need to listen to them," she admonished. "You are better than you think you are." Well, that may be so; I'm not fully convinced, but it is humbling as well as honoring to hear these things. I've believed for many years now that volunteerism is not particularly compatible with the Gospel. Jesus never asked for volunteers; he chose the men he wanted. So I never volunteer. But when someone calls, I have to consider whether God's call resides within the human invitation. I doubt that I'll be the next pastor of the prison church, but I can't simply ignore this invitation. I've been asking God what he has in store for this next stage of life's journey, and am grateful for the possibilities that have been presented to me. Prison ministry still doesn't feel very comfortable, but comfort is not the measure of God's call. I must consider whether or not God is speaking through this invitation. Tonight, I am thankful that God isn't done with me yet, even though I'm not yet sure of his direction. So in addition to being my being thankful tonight, I am using this post to request prayers that I might discern God's leading in this. Request made; response waiting.

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Fifty Years of Memories

April 18, 2015

Fifty years is a long time. Or not. Tonight we joined family and friends to celebrate Barb and Gary's fiftieth wedding anniversary. For those who may not know, Barb is Linda's sister. On the way over to the Nickel, Linda and I talked about fifty years. We will celebrate our 45th in June; years before, we couldn't imagine what 45 years together would be like; now we can't remember what being single was like. And yet it doesn't seem like that long. Yesterday I was talking with Linda's aunt Kayla, who is working hard to regain her strength so she can trade the nursing home for her own. She is in her eighties, but I remember when she and Linda's mom ran the Train Station restaurant in Warren. I told her of an encyclopedia salesman who came to my door perhaps thirty years ago. He was in his sixties, but as we talked, he drew his hand across his neck and said, "From here up, I'm still eighteen."

I remember staying overnight at my grandparents when I was a boy, and thinking how old they were. Today I'm older by at least ten years than they were when I stayed with them, and it doesn't seem old at all. The only thing that gives us away is our wrinkles and weariness. And our music. We bought Gary and Barb tickets to a Beach Boys concert for their anniversary gift, and tonight we talked with one of their granddaughters, who only vaguely knew who they were. "This was OUR music," we told them. Of course, only one of the originals is still alive. On my birthday this summer, the Rolling Stones will be in concert at the Ralph in Buffalo. That the four of them are still alive (although we're not sure about Keith Richards; he's looked more dead than alive for about the last fifteen years) is pretty amazing, considering all the stuff they've put into their bodies over the decades. They are all in their seventies, and Mick is still prancing around like a teenager. I think I'll pass on their concert.

So here we are, along with Barb and Gary, sharing a lifetime together. Not many families can recall common memories that go back that far. we are blessed to be able to do so, for which I am thankful tonight.

Friday, April 17, 2015

Filling Prayers with Faith

April 17, 2015

This morning, I was reflecting on my prayer life, which often feels anemic and tepid. I think one of the reasons this is so is due to "Scripture-less" prayers. Romans 10:17 tells us that "faith comes...by the Word of God." If this is so, it follows that if Scripture isn't a central component of my prayers, faith cannot be present. And prayer without faith is futile, according to Hebrews 11:6 ("The one coming to God must first believe that he is(i.e. that God exists), and that he is a rewarder of those who diligently seek him."). The faith, or expectation that God is there and will actually respond to prayer is a direct result of Scripture.

I suspect that faithless prayers are also a result of faithless living. If I never attempt anything that is impossible apart from God, I'll never pray and seek him with the necessary diligence; I won't give God the opportunity to demonstrate his power. Most of us live within the constraints of the ordinary, and while I like it's comfort, ordinary doesn't stir the soul or engender faith.

I must confess to have been feeling somewhat spiritually flatlined lately; my prayers have seemed somewhat blasé. But something is stirring within me I want to see the power of the Gospel to change lives. I don't want to live in the shadows. I want to bask even if only for a moment, in the full blaze of God's glory. My prayer is simply this: "Lord, give me your eyes, your heart, your mind, that I may see, love, and think as you do, for the salvation of the world." But here's my question: I've often prayed for God to reveal himself to me. So if the Holy Spirit dwells within us, what does that prayer really mean, and what will it's answer look like? What will the revelation of the God who resides within his people be like?

I suspect it goes back to Scripture-based prayer and faithful living. Prayers soaked in Scripture cannot help but move us to live more faith-fully, stepping out of our comfort zones because the Holy Spirit within us is on the move, requiring us to move also. I'm not sure where this will take me, but I am convinced that the adventure is far from over unless I bring it to a premature end by refusing to align myself with the activity of God. Repeatedly, Scripture testifies to the reality of answered prayer. I am determined to pray such prayers the answers to which cannot be ignored. I am through with weak, spineless, vague prayers that no one would be able to determine if they were answered because they were so innocuous. Tonight, I am thankful for times of reflection and for the Scriptures which in their own way and time, water my prayers with faith till the answers begin to sprout.

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Impromptu Expressions of Love

April 17, 2015

Awhile back, a leak developed somewhere in Nate and Deb's bathroom plumbing. They first noticed something was wrong when water started coming out of the ceiling lights at the foot of the stairs. That was a pretty sure sign that something wasn't right, so last week Nate tore out the old tub and shower to get ready for the carpenter he had hired to remodel the bathroom. Their home is old school, and that's the only tub and shower in the house, so when a thorough scrubbing is in order, they've been trotting next door to the Pascoes or down the road to our house. I know it's an inconvenience for them, but it's been pretty nice for us when the girls pop in for a quick shower and a short visit. It's not that we never see them, but these short impromptu visits have been an added blessing.

Tonight while at a media team meeting, Debbra took a call. As we got ready to leave somewhat later, she said to me, "On your way home, Abi needs a ride." I picked her up and brought her to our house, where before showering, she showed us a photo of her latest art project. We talked for a couple minutes, she took her shower, and when she came out, said something about someone standing by her, whereupon I broke into a butchered rendition of "Stand By Me," complete with my signature Bailey dance moves. She and Linda of course, broke into maniacal laughter which deterred me not in the least. Abi and I sang the song all the way to her house.

Over the past several months, we have had some people close to us move from the area due to jobs or family situations. Often when that happens, they imagine that with the advent of such things as Facetime and Skype, the relationships won't change. But they do. It takes regular face-to-face time to keep relationships intimate. Last weekend as we ministered in prison, I talked with two different inmates, one of whom had almost no contact with his family since entering, and another whose wife was still waiting for him after 23 years of incarceration. The former is typical; the latter very unusual. I am thankful tonight for the impromptu occasions when we get to spend even short visits with our grandchildren. Whether it's times like tonight, or those occasions when Jess walks across town with Gemma, who always wants to come to Meema's house to see her "best friend," (which isn't me), or Friday nights when we have the entire crew overnight, hopefully we are building into their lives with dependable love. I know they are building into ours.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Tax Gratitude

April 16, 2015

Well, tax day has come and gone. It's usually an "Grrr" day; at least it has been for me. Living in New York State is not the happiest experience on April 15, since we have the highest taxes and cost of living in the nation, thanks to the downstate politicians who have apparently never seen a tax they don't like. But I've turned over a new leaf and am not complaining. Griping doesn't help, and I've learned it is actually a sin that hinders my walk with Christ by shifting my focus from him to whatever is irritating me at the moment. Anything that comes between the Christian and Christ is sin. So I'm not dwelling on how much money we're forking over to Washington and Albany (although I must admit, I growled a bit at first). Linda reminded me a couple weeks ago when we sent a couple thousand more in addition to the thousands we've already paid, that there are plenty of people who would happily pay our taxes if it meant they could have the income behind them. It was a good word that got me back on track, reminding me that in the Bible, complaining is forbidden.

Therefore, tonight I am grateful to be able to pay my taxes, even when I don't enjoy doing it. Sending in that check reminds me that my standard of living would be the envy of royalty of past generations. Henry VIII wouldn't have been able in his wildest dreams to imagine the conveniences I take for granted, and for which I give thanks this evening.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Gratitude in All Things

April 14, 2015

In 1 Thessalonians 5:18, St. Paul tells us it is God's will for Christians to give thanks in everything. As a former melancholic, this always seemed a little idealistic to me, but after a year or so of daily gratitude, it moved from ideal to reality. To be honest, it's not very hard to live the life I've been given. I would be a particularly despicable ingrate to fail to be thankful for all the blessings and benefits that populate my life.

This morning, I started to change the shocks on my truck. I picked up new ones at AutoZone, and parked the truck in the driveway in front of the garage near my compressor and electrical supply. I had to saw through the end of the old shock to get it off, only to discover that the store had given me the wrong ones. Of course, being parked where I was, I can't get the car out of the garage to go exchange them. I would take the bike, but the brake light is stuck on, which is a tad less safe than I would like. I might chance it in my truck, but getting rear-ended on a motorcycle is not quite my cup of tea. Do I give thanks? Of course! It's a minor irritation, not a catastrophe.

Last night, Linda came down with the flu. She's been sleeping on the couch since about 3 am, feeling pretty miserable. Do I give thanks? I'm not thankful that she's sick; but I am thankful to be able to serve her while she's out of commission. Unfortunately, there's not much I can do. I'm not much of a nurse, and my cooking would only make her sicker. I couldn't lead her exercise class, and can't take her piano lesson tomorrow. I could have tomorrow's breakfast with Beth and Sue for her, but I don't think that would particularly do her much good. I was able to fill in for her at the library volunteer dinner, so for now, that'll have to do.

Monday, April 13, 2015

Ordinary is Just Fine

April 13, 2015

Tonight, I'm sore. My back aches, my right foot hurts, and I am just plain tired. But I'm not complaining. My sore muscles are the result of levering some large rocks and chaining them to the backblade of the old 8N. It's the first day I've been able to do any outside work this spring. The weekend would have been perfect for such labors, but I was in prison. Today, it was time to get cracking, so I changed the oil on my truck, fought with the rocks, took the chains off the tractor, and made a pretty successful day of it. The rocks now reside at the far end of the property where people have this annoying habit of parking on the lawn instead of the side of the road. Last year there were ruts halfway across the lawn. It will be interesting to see if the county has anything to say about it.

Sore muscles are a good thing. I know people who wish they could be active enough to be sore. Tonight, Linda rubbed my back with some liniment, so I should sleep well, and after a long weekend, I'm back in my own bed, with her by my side. It's pretty ordinary stuff, but that's what most of life is. Some people crave adventure and danger; for me, ordinary is just fine.

Sunday, April 12, 2015

Home Free

April 12, 2015

The air is warm and fragrant, the sky a glorious blue as we head for the car. Steve and I have just finished four days of prison ministry with a team of over forty people from all walks of life, a half dozen different denominations, ranging in age from twenty to eighty four. The prisoners with whom we have ministered are serving sentences from a few years to more than twenty five. Many have found Christ in prison, and when they worship, it is as powerful and heartfelt as you will find anywhere. It's pretty sobering, though.

I had committed to serving this weekend long before the Panama girls basketball team won sectionals and a trip to States. This win meant that their scheduled musical was postponed to... you guessed it: this weekend. I was on track to miss Izzy's debut in a lead role, Alex's solo, and Abi's participation in the chorus. I was fortunate to have been able to attend dress rehearsal. It wasn't quite the real thing, but close enough. Had I not done so, I would have been hard put to minister in prison and miss the performance.

Every man in prison is there for a reason. Each one committed a crime; some violent, some not. Many are there for felony DWI. Many have parents, wives, and children from whom they are separated, usually for years. Some of them are completely missing their children's childhood. I talked with a couple of men who have been in for over twenty years and have years to go. More than one spoke of never having experienced genuine love before.

Steve and I walked out into the sunshine and drove home to our wives. Before the week is over, we will see our grown children and hug our grandchildren. The men with whom we talked were not blaming anyone else for their incarceration. They freely acknowledged the choices they made that put them behind bars. One spoke of the daily joy and happiness he has, not because of where he is, but no matter where he is, because he is in Christ. He spoke to  me of his wife and children who have been faithfully waiting for him. I wonder what kind of attitude I would have if at the end of the weekend I had to return to a cell instead of a home. I wonder how my life would have turned out had I been raised in the homes some of these men knew as little boys. I have been blessed beyond measure, and am eternally grateful tonight simply to end the day on the outside of those prison walls.

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Spiritual Gifts and Spiritual Calling

April 11, 2015

Over the past twenty five years or so, it has become quite common for churches to utilize spiritual gift inventories to determine where and how Christians engage in ministry. It began back in the '70s with Ray Stedman's book "Body Life," which enumerated various gifts of the Holy Spirit as outlined in a few choice Scriptures. His book spawned hundreds of others, as authors suddenly discovered people were hungry for ministries that fit their personalities and temperaments, instead of finding themselves shoehorned into ministry that just didn't seem to fit. The spiritual gifts model for ministry has helped countless people engage in service to Christ that is meaningful and satisfying. It has been immensely helpful to me, explaining why some types of ministry have worked for me, and why some just never get off the ground.

There is a danger however, in over-utilizing a spiritual gifts model of ministry. Although those who write spiritual gift curricula and inventories are careful to remind people that their materials are not the end-all in ministry (The Saddleback church takes great pains to tell the people using their material that foundational to spiritual gift-based ministry is the prior willingness to serve anywhere.), it is always tempting to limit one's service to those areas where we feel comfortable, believing that God surely wouldn't ask us to do something for which we are not suited. I've not found that to be true. God doesn't seem to particularly care how comfortable we feel about ministry. In fact, he seems to take great delight in calling us to service so far out of our comfort zone, we can't even find it.

That's what prison ministry is like for me. We are thrust into a group of men with whom I haven't much in common, and immediately have to mix it up with them. Our time together is limited, so we get right at it. I am not comfortable in large crowds. I can't hear well, and introverted me doesn't do well with small talk. And in prison, you don't get far asking what they do for a living, or how their day was. I keep telling myself that I'm not ever doing this again, but then over the course of the weekend, I see how God is orchestrating things to change lives, till I start asking, "How can I possibly miss out on all this?" I feel like a fish out of water, but it's not about me or my comfort; it's about obeying God.

I don't know what the Lord has in store for me with this ministry. I'd prefer to not do it, just because I prefer things for which I feel more suited. The other guys on team are so excited about doing this; I just do it, grateful that somehow God uses what I have to offer, but unable to get cranked up about it the way the others do. Listening to God is not always as easy as it sounds. Is prison ministry my calling? I don't think so, but my discomfort with it is not enough to rule it out. Wesley once said, "Do all the good you can, in every way you can, in every place you can, as long as ever you can." That's what I'm trying to do, and today, I had the privilege of assisting in the birth of a new believer into God's family, and was able to help another let go of a burden of guilt that he's been carrying around for 25 years. And we're not done yet! How can I not be thankful when God so richly blesses even my stumbling and faltering attempts at faithful service?

Friday, April 10, 2015

Grace Before Us

April 10, 2015

One of the mistakes Christians often make when serving in missions or ministry is that of imagining that we are "taking the Gospel to..." whomever. In a sense, that is true, but in another sense, it makes no sense. Wherever we go, God has been there before us, and if we are able to do any good whatsoever, it's because he has paved the way in people's hearts. In Romans 9, Paul says that the word has gone forth into all the world, and before we ever speak a single syllable, God has been silently speaking into people's lives through circumstances, and often through the direct influence of his Holy Spirit upon their conscience. John Wesley called it "prevenient grace," i.e., that grace of God that precedes human activity. Our doctrine of Original Sin tells us that Adam's sin has so infected the human race that without the initiative of God, we couldn't even respond to his goodness.

This is both a humbling and encouraging fact. Humbling, because it circumscribes the limits of our abilities and influence. Often after preaching, people would tell me, "Good sermon, pastor." Their comments are examples of social grace, and sometimes they were genuine expressions of something or other I had said that particularly impressed or influenced them. But I was always aware that apart from the work of the Holy Spirit, the best I could do was no better than the worst I could do. Any good that ever came out of my preaching or ministry is completely a miracle of grace. Period. That is humbling.

On the other hand, it is a great encouragement, because ultimately the results of the message are not dependent on the skill or cleverness with which it is given. There have been many times I felt unprepared to preach. Either I hadn't put enough time or prayer into it, or was struggling with my own issues that made it difficult to stand in front of people to proclaim the power of the Gospel (Yes, preachers have issues, too. Often, lots of them.). Yet it was often at these very times when I felt the sermon had fallen completely flat that people would comment on how I had spoken exactly the words they needed to hear. "Really?" was my amazed response. How could that be, other than grace? It is a humble encouragement to know that the power of the Gospel rests not in my ability, but in the sovereign work of God.

So when we minister, we don't take God to the mission field, into the world or any part of it. God is already there. All we are doing is listening carefully and watching for what he is doing so we can jump on his bandwagon and have the privilege of enjoying the ride. I think I can give thanks for that tonight.

Grace Before Us

April 10, 2015

One of the mistakes Christians often make when serving in missions or ministry is that of imagining that we are "taking the Gospel to..." whomever. In a sense, that is true, but in another sense, it makes no sense. Wherever we go, God has been there before us, and if we are able to do any good whatsoever, it's because he has paved the way in people's hearts. In Romans 9, Paul says that the word has gone forth into all the world, and before we ever speak a single syllable, God has been silently speaking into people's lives through circumstances, and often through the direct influence of his Holy Spirit upon their conscience. John Wesley called it "prevenient grace," i.e., that grace of God that precedes human activity. Our doctrine of Original Sin tells us that Adam's sin has so infected the human race that without the initiative of God, we couldn't even respond to his goodness.

This is both a humbling and encouraging fact. Humbling, because it circumscribes the limits of our abilities and influence. Often after preaching, people would tell me, "Good sermon, pastor." Their comments are examples of social grace, and sometimes they were genuine expressions of something or other I had said that particularly impressed or influenced them. But I was always aware that apart from the work of the Holy Spirit, the best I could do was no better than the worst I could do. Any good that ever came out of my preaching or ministry is completely a miracle of grace. Period. That is humbling.

On the other hand, it is a great encouragement, because ultimately the results of the message are not dependent on the skill or cleverness with which it is given. There have been many times I felt unprepared to preach. Either I hadn't put enough time or prayer into it, or was struggling with my own issues that made it difficult to stand in front of people to proclaim the power of the Gospel (Yes, preachers have issues, too. Often, lots of them.). Yet it was often at these very times when I felt the sermon had fallen completely flat that people would comment on how I had spoken exactly the words they needed to hear. "Really?" was my amazed response. How could that be, other than grace? It is a humble encouragement to know that the power of the Gospel rests not in my ability, but in the sovereign work of God.

So when we minister, we don't take God to the mission field, into the world or any part of it. God is already there. All we are doing is listening carefully and watching for what he is doing so we can jump on his bandwagon and have the privilege of enjoying the ride. I think I can give thanks for that tonight.

Grace Before Us

April 10, 2015

One of the mistakes Christians often make when serving in missions or ministry is that of imagining that we are "taking the Gospel to..." whomever. In a sense, that is true, but in another sense, it makes no sense. Wherever we go, God has been there before us, and if we are able to do any good whatsoever, it's because he has paved the way in people's hearts. In Romans 9, Paul says that the word has gone forth into all the world, and before we ever speak a single syllable, God has been silently speaking into people's lives through circumstances, and often through the direct influence of his Holy Spirit upon their conscience. John Wesley called it "prevenient grace," i.e., that grace of God that precedes human activity. Our doctrine of Original Sin tells us that Adam's sin has so infected the human race that without the initiative of God, we couldn't even respond to his goodness.

This is both a humbling and encouraging fact. Humbling, because it circumscribes the limits of our abilities and influence. Often after preaching, people would tell me, "Good sermon, pastor." Their comments are examples of social grace, and sometimes they were genuine expressions of something or other I had said that particularly impressed or influenced them. But I was always aware that apart from the work of the Holy Spirit, the best I could do was no better than the worst I could do. Any good that ever came out of my preaching or ministry is completely a miracle of grace. Period. That is humbling.

On the other hand, it is a great encouragement, because ultimately the results of the message are not dependent on the skill or cleverness with which it is given. There have been many times I felt unprepared to preach. Either I hadn't put enough time or prayer into it, or was struggling with my own issues that made it difficult to stand in front of people to proclaim the power of the Gospel (Yes, preachers have issues, too. Often, lots of them.). Yet it was often at these very times when I felt the sermon had fallen completely flat that people would comment on how I had spoken exactly the words they needed to hear. "Really?" was my amazed response. How could that be, other than grace? It is a humble encouragement to know that the power of the Gospel rests not in my ability, but in the sovereign work of God.

So when we minister, we don't take God to the mission field, into the world or any part of it. God is already there. All we are doing is listening carefully and watching for what he is doing so we can jump on his bandwagon and have the privilege of enjoying the ride. I think I can give thanks for that tonight.

Amazing Grace

Last night, by the time the day's work was done, it was way too late to post. Here it is.

April 9, 2015

It's nearly 1 am, and I've only now finished the day's work. I don't often put in days like today, for which I am very thankful. It was Day One of this year's Keryx prison ministry; pretty low key at first. It will intensify tomorrow. We were done and back at the church where the team stays the night by ten or ten-thirty. Chapel, then supper, followed by rehearsing the music for tomorrow, which was quite a challenge with the arrangements being written in two different keys, depending on which book we used, and the fact that Dick and I had not played together before. After that, I had to address fifty four letters to the inmates. So, it's late.

I am struck again this year as I was last time, with the brief biographies the men told us in their introductions. We went around giving names, where we're from, family, what we do for a living, and hobbies. So many of the men spoke of wives, children, grandchildren, aged parents whom they loved and missed. If you were to pass them on the street, you'd never guess they had spent time in prison. So many destinies impacted by a decision made in anger, under the influence, or in desperation. I thought of the children they left behind, who are growing up without them, but also of those who needed the slap in the face that prison gave them, to turn their lives around. I am missing my granddaughter's musical debut to be here. Fortunately, I was able to make the dress rehearsal last night. There are men here who are missing much more than a granddaughter's musical. They are missing out on whole years of their children's lives. But there are also men here who gave up their freedom in society, only to find it in Christ during their stay here. I am grateful it didn't take prison to open my eyes, and am grateful for the opportunity to minister to, and to learn from these men who are learning the hard way what it means to be a man of God.

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Praiseworthy Body Language

April 8, 2015

As I left visiting my friend Rick in the hospital, the attendant in the garage ramp bid me a good day, to which I thought, "Any day I'm on the outside of a hospital is a good one." It's true. At times I've struggled to come up with something worth writing about in the evening; talking about my blessings is redundant, and to those who haven't been similarly blessed, I imagine it can feel like a slap in the face. And if I'm not careful, I can become somewhat cavalier about the blessings, almost taking them for granted. Today, seeing my friend unable to speak or move his right arm due to a stroke, I am aware of the fragility of life, and of how precious is the ability to move, to communicate, to be to some measure in control of one's own body. These are gifts denied to many. The day comes for all of us when our bodies will fail, and finally cease to support the spirit within.

When that day comes, we Christians have the hope and promise of God, rooted in the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, of our own resurrection to a bodily life that is more full and vibrant than anything we have known here. Our gratitude is thus not contained within the confines of our body's well-being, but stretches towards that which we can at present only imagine.

This evening, Linda and I attended the dress rehearsal for Panama school's musical, "Mary Poppins." Due to the prison ministry to which I had previously committed, when Panama rescheduled their musical, I was presented with a dilemma. Three of our granddaughters are in the play, with Izzi having her debut in a leading role, which I was determined not to miss. Fortunately this option was available to me, so I am able to keep my earlier commitment. Watching the kids sing and dance, I am always impressed by minds that can memorize lines and sing them while completing intricate dance moves. Our bodies and minds are amazing gifts of God, usually capable of far more than we demand of them. I am grateful tonight for that which God has given to me, and to these young people. They sang, acted, and danced well, which is in itself a gift of, and to God. And I got to see it all. I am truly blessed!

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Theoretical Retirement

April 7, 2015

So, this is what retirement looks like! The day began ordinarily enough: breakfast with my friend Willie, followed by the usual mentoring hour with Cameron (although "mentoring" is hardly an adequate word for the conversations and friendship we share). While we were talking this morning, I received a phone call telling me that my friend Rick, who had open heart surgery yesterday, had a stroke this morning. It wasn't too long afterwards that I got a call from our friend Kelly, who is on her way to Virginia to be with her mother who is dying from cancer, telling me that if I wanted to talk with her mother, now was the time. So I called, and we had a wonderful conversation about life, death, and faith in Christ. Jill had asked me over a year ago if I would officiate at her funeral when the time came, and of course, I said I would. That time may be fast approaching, so we talked about what that service will look like. One thing for sure: no one had better wear black! Beyond that, we'll proclaim the Gospel of resurrection life in the Christ in whom she recently has come to trust.

My conversation with Jill was followed by a phone call to another Willie, to talk and pray. He had asked me a couple years ago to be chaplain for his ministry, so a weekly phone call keeps me informed of his needs, and allows me to ask how well is his soul, a question we all need to hear regularly.

Finally, Linda and I had dinner tonight with some dear friends who are struggling with some family issues, and before another 48 hours passes, I'll be in prison for a weekend's ministry with a few dozen inmates. In the past nine months, I've been asked more times than I can remember how I like retirement. My standard answer is, "I don't know." It's OK; I'd hate to retire only to discover that it only made me suddenly irrelevant. I haven't even begun to figure out this retirement business, but I guess figuring things out isn't always what it's cracked up to be. Being available to Jesus Christ is. Tonight I am thankful that although I'm officially retired, God doesn't seem to be done with me yet.

Monday, April 6, 2015

A Morning Drive

April 6, 2015

First light for me is always the best time for driving. I didn't quite make it this morning, but it was close enough, with the sun rising in a clear blue sky on the warmest day we've seen in months. I was on my way to Erie to spend some time with my old friend Rick, who was scheduled for open heart surgery. Driving the expressways in the morning always takes me back more than 40 years, to our Chicago days, when after driving all night from Western NY, we would pull into the city just as daylight spread its early morning skyscraper shadows across the metro area. On one of these mornings, Crystal Gayle was on the radio singing "Don't You Make My Brown Eyes Blue." To this day, I can't make a morning expressway run without that song ringing in my ears.

After a long, hard winter, the snow is finally giving way to the warmth and the rain. It won't be long before it is but a memory, and people will be griping about the heat, the rain, or all the yard work that needs to be done. For my part, I am grateful for the changing of the seasons. Sure, it'll be messy and muddy for about a month, but that is a small price to pay for the promise of summer. Tonight, the air had a new aroma; a freshness born of last fall's detritus being set free on the breeze from its snowy imprisonment. In just a few weeks, the buds will begin popping out on the trees, with their staggering variety of greens. I never cease to be amazed at how many shades of green early spring offers, from the deep hues of the conifers to the yellow-tinted poplars and willows. By the middle of May, they will all have settled into an almost uniform green that signals the fullness of the summer to come. That there should be so many gradations of a single color is simply astounding. To the cynic or skeptic, perhaps it is to be taken in stride. As a Christian, it is one more piece of evidence of the magnificence of the mind and imagination of God. Crystal Gayle singing in my mind is just an added bonus.

Sunday, April 5, 2015

Christ's Blood on Our Hands

April 5, 2015

Easter Sunday! 5 am, the alarm rang, and the day began. After three worship services a church breakfast and family dinner, by 5 pm, it was time to relax a bit. Everyone had gone home by then, and I sat down to write some letters for Keryx. At 9 pm, the special TV series on the book of Acts debuted; I was determined to watch it, and am glad  I did. There was one scene that took me by surprise. After Jesus' crucifixion, Joseph of Arimathea requested the body of Jesus for burial, which request was granted. It was a dangerous move both by Joseph, and by Pilate. Had he refused this request, the body would have remained on the cross to decay and be devoured by carrion-feeding birds. This would have closed the door to any talk of resurrection. Pilate's action was inadvertently (on his part) a crucial piece of the puzzle, setting the stage for the resurrection.

But the scene that really caught my attention was Mary and the other women washing Jesus' body for burial, followed by their washing their hands of his blood. We use the expression, "His blood is on our hands," meaning that it was our sins that put him on the cross. But Jesus' blood was literally on the hands of those who loved him most--his mother, Mary Magdalene, and perhaps a few others. It is one thing for his blood to be on my hands due to my sin; it is quite another for this to be so because of my faithfulness and love. May it be from this day on, the latter. Tonight, I am grateful that his blood was shed for us, and that he has risen from the dead, giving to all who believe the possibility that his blood could be on our hands for love of him instead of for our sins.

Saturday, April 4, 2015

Holy Saturday

April 4, 2015

This morning at our annual Bailey Easter Egg Hunt ("Bailey" only because it's held at Nate and Deb's; it involves a half dozen families with nearly two dozen kids chasing all over five acres in the snow), pastor Joe and I were talking about Holy Saturday, and what Jesus was accomplishing in the Spirit while his body lay in the tomb. The Scriptures don't tell us much, other than that Jesus was crucified, buried, and raised on the third day. There are however, a small number of texts that are intriguing, and which are the basis of that part of the Apostles' Creed which tells us that "he descended into hell.."

Peter asserts that "Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God. He was put to death in the body but made alive in the Spirit. After being made alive, he went and made proclamation to the imprisoned spirits—to those who were disobedient long ago..." (1 Peter 3:18-20). Later, he adds, "this is the reason the gospel was preached even to those who are now dead, so that they might be judged according to human standards in regard to the body, but live according to God in regard to the spirit." (1 Peter 4:6).

Paul himself gets in on the act when he offers a question; "What does "he ascended" mean except that he also descended to the lower, earthly regions?" (Ephesians 4:9). There are a couple more, but these are sufficient for the doctrine, and for our morning conversation. Biblical theology tells us that before the Cross, those who died went to a rather nebulous place of the dead called Sheol in Hebrew, or Hades in the Greek. It wasn't a place of torment; it could be likened more to a holding place for all the dead.

According to Peter, Jesus' descent to this place was that he might proclaim to those held there the Good News that salvation was accomplished, and those who believed were finally able to be received into their heavenly reward, while those who had opposed God in life were relegated to that place we call hell. The Creed's statement is subtle testimony to the activity of Christ as his body lay in the tomb. While we cannot be as certain of this as of other tenets of our faith, we might assume from our own struggles with evil that the devil doesn't release his prisoners easily. But yield, he must, then, and now, for which we give joyful thanks and praise tomorrow as we celebrate the resurrection.

Friday, April 3, 2015

Phone Swim and Financial Stuff

April 3, 2015

Trust me; being a financial dolt is not a good thing. It's a good thing that Linda has always done the finances in our home. She has said it more than once: If I were in charge of the finances, we'd be flat broke. Instead, she squirrels money away at every opportunity, which is why in retirement, we are not be living hand to mouth, but are able to bless others.

Last night about 12:30, we received a phone call from daughter in law Deb, telling us that Nate had taken their daughter Alex to the emergency room. A couple days ago, she had a sudden reaction to something; we didn't know what. All we know is she had swelling all over her body, somewhat like severe reaction to bug bites, only she hadn't been bitten by anything. She had already made one visit to the Urgent Care facility, where they treated and released her. Now, we got this late night call. It was dark, I was groggy, and when I placed the phone back on the nightstand, it landed in my cup of tea; end of phone; end of story. Well, actually, the beginning of the story.

This morning, I made an unplanned trip to the phone store. I'm pretty cheap when it comes to stuff like that. My old phone has been on life support for months now. I have trouble getting the charger to stay in place; sometimes it charges, sometimes it doesn't. But it still worked, so I was in no hurry to spend the scratch to upgrade. I'd talked with them before, but always walked away. Today, I was phoneless, calendarless, contact-listless. So here I am, in the store, trying to sort through the myriad of plans available. On the advice of the salesperson, I settled on a plan I understood to be a 24 month contract that was cheaper than buying the phone outright. I signed on the electronic dotted line, and walked out of the store with a new phone.

Tonight, Linda asked me why I had spent so much money on a phone, when I had told her before I left that I wouldn't spend that much money on a phone. The amount on the receipt wasn't what I had thought it was; of course, I had never even looked at the receipt. So, I have a nice phone, but have to go back to sort out the plan that turns out not to be what I had expected. I guess I need to take Linda with me whenever I make a purchase much larger than a candy bar. Tonight, I am grateful that she handles our finances and still loves me even when my financial sense makes no sense whatsoever.

Thursday, April 2, 2015

No Condemnation

April 2, 2015

For the past few weeks I've felt that my relationship with God has flatlined. No highs, no lows, just flat. Tonight, Linda and I attended the One in Christ Maundy Thursday service at the Reg Lenna theater. For the second year in a row, the local pastor's prayer group, dubbed "CPR'" for Chautauqua Prayer Revival," has organized this event, to which perhaps 600 people from more than a dozen area churches come together to praise and worship The Lord. The music was powerful, the preaching even more so, but for most of the evening as we sang, and people lifted hearts and hands to the Lord, it felt as if I were only going through the motions. Flatlined. As others sang, I prayed, "Lord, what's wrong with me?"

Then pastor LeCroft Clarke began to preach, and boy, did he pour on the power! I am so grateful tonight for this brother in Christ! In a masterful presentation of the Gospel, at one point he read from Romans 8, where Paul said, "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus," and later, "Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us." Suddenly, it became clear to me. There is only one who condemns; the enemy of our souls, the Accuser of the brethren, the devil himself. Why would I want to listen to, and believe this father of lies? I'd been in the middle of spiritual warfare, and didn't even realize it. As soon as the Word of God shed light on my condition, and I took my stand upon the promises of God, the condemnation evaporated.

It's really quite simple. Every day, I must choose who I will believe, who I will follow. Every day, I must decide whether I believe in the grace of God, or will accept the condemnation of the devil. I got to thinking about that word, "condemnation." It's root is damnation. With the prefix added, it basically means that if I accept it, I am agreeing with the pronouncement of damnation upon my life. Again, why would I want to do that? I must admit, there is always enough failure, enough sin, enough ugliness and dirt in me to justify that judgment. My mind often settles upon the failure, and my feelings then follow, but the Bible tells me to set my mind upon things above, where Christ sits at the right hand of the Father, and to think about that which is good, honorable, praiseworthy, and pure. Grace says, "Through the death of Jesus upon the Cross, I am forgiven, and by his blood, I am washed clean." I can choose to believe that, or not. Tonight, I choose to believe in the grace of God, and in doing so, to reject the condemnation the devil has been throwing my way. I think I'll just throw it back at him. It belongs to him, after all.

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

No Joke

April 1, 2015

Today I am very thankful to be retired. This morning I popped into pastor Joe's office to ask a quick question about Sunday's Easter service, only to see him busily at work preparing for it. Tomorrow night is the community Maundy Thursday service, Friday our Good Friday service, then three services on Sunday. I know what the pressure of all that preparation feels like to a pastor who is conscious of the weight of responsibility preaching affords. If it were merely lectures he has to give, it wouldn't be so bad, but these are sermons; those vehicles God has chosen to share his heart with his people. I was always concerned about whether or not what I had prepared was what God wanted for that moment, and whether I had prepared adequately enough to help people connect with the message.

This year, I have none of that hanging over my head. Instead, I have letters to write and a talk to prepare for Keryx, the prison ministry weekend coming up seven short days from now. There have been a couple glitches in communication that made for a late start on one of the talks I am to give, and I've had a few unexpected alterations to my plans for preparation. Had I had multiple sermons to prepare in addition to what I'm already doing, I'd be in a mild panic by now. Linda says I'm much easier to live with since I've retired, and I believe it. It's also easier for me to live, now that the burden has lifted.

I'm still casting about, trying to discern God's overall plan for me in retirement. It hasn't yet become clear, but I am sure it will. I'm doing my best to pay attention to the hints and signs he places before me, but it's still pretty fuzzy. Until I get clarity, I keep praying, worshipping, and serving as best I know how, trusting that when needed, the guidance will come. Until then, I am thankful to be heading into Easter without having to preach. It will be good to hear from someone else that old story that gives new life.