Holy Saturday

March 31, 2018

From a rollicking Easter egg hunt this morning to an enormous tree crashing through our daughter’s barn this evening, it’s been quite a day. The sun was bright, the couple dozen kids and their parents had a great time; it was a morning filled with smiles, good food, and great friends. The afternoon I spent studying Ecclesiastes as part of the teaching I’ll be doing in Cuba. Turns out, the study is a timely framework for the tree that has Jessie’s barn leaning like a drunk hanging onto a lamppost. 

Ecclesiastes is a rather cynical (or if you prefer, realistic) view of life. “Time and chance happen to all,” the author states. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Life is unpredictable, and if we limit our observations and ruminations to the boundaries of birth and death, it’s pretty hard to make sense of it all. It is meaningless, empty, vain, a chasing after the wind. It’s the wind that brought the tree down on our daughter’s barn instead of her neighbor’s garage. He felt lucky; it was his tree, but her barn. Jessie and Todd’s faithful living didn’t spare them; we are grateful no one was hurt, but she is grieving the Christmas ornaments that were crushed. 

Things like this serve little purpose if this world and life is all there is. Life isn’t fair, justice often is not served, so as Christians, we place our hope in that which is eternal, and that is centered in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Good Friday and Holy Saturday (today) recall the worst that this world can throw at us, and the often difficult waiting before the resurrection breaks all the old molds with the promise of new life. 

No one likes going through Good Friday’s. No one enjoys the waiting and wondering of Holy Saturday. But tomorrow is Sunday, and not just any Sunday; it is Easter, and the cry will reverberate throughout the world: “Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!”

Chew On It

March 31, 2018

“Isaac went out in the evening to meditate in the field.” Genesis 24:63. I wonder what Isaac would do in the evening if he lived in the modern world. Watch TV? Surf the Net? Tweet and Text? It’s hard for us to imagine life without electronics and media, but less than a generation ago, entertainment consisted of three network channels and radio. No one walked down the street with their nose in a phone. People actually carried on conversations with one another. And without all the devices giving us minute by minute updates on everything from fashion to politics, people actually took time to think about their lives, the world around them, and God.

It was called meditation; the Hebrew word came from the agricultural world—it was the word used of a cow chewing its cud. For those who don’t know, a cow has four stomachs. Actually, it’s one stomach with four compartments. The cow chews the grass or hay just enough to swallow it. The chewed food enters the first of the stomachs where it is stored. Later, the cow regurgitates the partially digested food and chews, extracting every bit of nutrient possible before swallowing again for complete digestion. 

Biblical meditation is unlike that of the Eastern religions like Buddhism. Eastern meditation is the attempt to empty the mind of all thought. Biblical meditation is different; instead of emptying the mind, it is the filling of the mind with thoughts of God. Jews and Christians do this by repeatedly going over the chosen text, attempting to extract every bit of meaning from it. Joshua 1:8 instructs us to not let “this book of the Law...depart out of our mouths, but we meditate on it day and night, [with the result that we have] good success and make our way prosperous.” 

I am as guilty as the next person when it comes to neglecting this important discipline. We are so used to being spoon fed whatever the media is dishing out, that we have forgotten how to think for ourselves, to our own peril. I am thankful for this reminder to use the evening hours for something deeper and more significant than the latest offering this world is pushing. Resisting the urge to simply vegetate means I might even hear from God. THAT would be something worth my thanksgiving!

Terror and Glory

March 29, 2018

The fog this morning lay thick and opaque as I drove up the hill towards Cassadaga, headlights not even denting the mist that swirled and billowed around me. Everything looks different through a fog; perspective is all askew. But sometimes that different perspective helps us see more clearly.

The Biblical story of Samson begins with an angel. Samson’s mother isn’t even named. Apparently, she wasn’t significant enough to be remembered with a name, but it was to her, not her husband Manoah, that the angel appeared, telling her she would give birth to a very unusual child. When she told her husband of this visitation, she described a man who looked like an angel of God. 

Angels in the Bible aren’t the cute chubby cherubs depicted in Renaissance art. Nor are they the effeminate, feathery beings portrayed in much modern art. Whenever they appear, humans tremble in fear before them. When Samson’s mother describes this messenger, she adds a different twist that most translations gloss over. Eugene Peterson’s ‘The Message’ captures the essence of her words with startling clarity: “He looked like...terror laced with glory.” 

I have often thought that with all the blessings of the Incarnation of Christ, it has had the unfortunate side effect of bringing God so near and accessible that many Christians have lost any sense of transcendence and majesty. Jesus is often described as some sort of divine buddy, but rarely as the risen and glorified Christ. I wonder what it would be like if in a prayer meeting or worship service, God met us as ‘terror laced with glory?” Would our prayers change? Would our worship remain casual? Would we go to our homes like someone who has avoided a serious accident by a hair’s breadth, amazed that we have been spared God’s wrath and judgment, overwhelmed by his majesty? Do we even want to encounter God like this?

These words have haunted me all day. The terror of Good Friday is near; the glory of Easter follows close behind. May we not meet an emasculated Jesus, but our Savior and Risen Lord, Terror and Glory personified.

The Nudge

March 28, 2018

“I just got off the phone with Yala. They want us to lead a day’s seminar on the Wisdom Literature. I’ll do Job, so you can do the Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, or Song of Solomon.” Joel hung up while I wondered what in the world I could possibly do with any of those in a half day seminar. I suppose I should have jumped into the Psalms. I could talk about Hebrew poetry, about the different kinds of Psalms, their organization, and the Messianic psalms. It could only be an introductory overview, but I think I could manage it. 

Unfortunately, my first thought went to Ecclesiastes, a rather pessimistic philosophical tome that historically, many have wondered why it was included in the canon of Scripture. The key word in Ecclesiastes is “vanity;” in which the author speaks of the futility of life and the emptiness of human effort. It’s perhaps the darkest book in the Bible, even surpassing the dirge of Lamentations that bemoans the destruction of Jerusalem by the Babylonian armies. I haven’t paid much attention to Ecclesiastes since college days when I took a course on Wisdom Literature, in which this book took a minor role. I have to admit I’m a bit nervous; I have less than a week to put this teaching together. On the other hand, the challenge is a gift, one of those hard blessings that force us to rise to the occasion or go under. I don’t plan on doing the latter, so I guess I’ll have to do the former, thankful for the nudge to dig into the text and learn.

Mercy Me

March 27, 2018

“You’ll always wonder, ‘Could I have made it?’ if you don’t try.” I spoke those words probably twenty years ago to a talented young man who wanted to move to New York City to see if he could make it in the music world. A gifted keyboardist and songwriter, he had put out a couple cds locally, and was ready to spread his wings except for one thing: his parents thought he should settle down and get a real job. “You’re young; you have no responsibilities; you have the rest of your life to settle down. You don’t want to spend that rest of your life asking, “What if...?” 

His parents probably weren’t too happy with me when he took my advice. When he moved back into the area some years later, I wonder if they wanted to look me up and say, “See? We could have told you so!” They didn’t, so all is well that ends well. Rik is married, has an equally talented son (more so, if you ask Rik), and owns a small music store. I guess he settled down to a real job.

My wife and I just returned from watching the movie, “I Can Only Imagine,” the story behind the song of that name. Bart Millard, who wrote the song, grew up with an abusive father who told him never to follow his dreams because dreams never come true. He and his band were good, but something was lacking. It’s hard to put one’s finger on it, but authenticity is what separates good from great. It wasn’t until he came to terms with his father’s abuse and learned to forgive that he was able to write the song that defines the band. 

It is often the case that it takes great tragedy, deep sorrow, and brokenness before one is able to reach deep enough to attain greatness. And while there is plenty of tragedy in the world, not everyone has gone through the kinds of problems Bart Millard endured. And for every superstar, every success story, there are thousands of also-rans; people who do their best, work their hardest, but lack the talent, and perhaps haven’t suffered enough to connect deeply with those they’re trying to reach. Whether you are a musician, a pastor, a social worker, or a teacher, the likelihood of becoming an Amy Grant, or a Billy Graham is pretty slim. 

Which is why I am grateful that while God has a few bright suns shining in all their glory, he also has far more ordinary stars. They don’t light up the sky, but quietly twinkle and sparkle in the night. I’m no super pastor. I preach passably well, know how to listen, am a terrible administrator, have written a few mediocre songs. I’ve done my job as well as I knew how, made plenty of mistakes, had failure and success. All of it is in God’s hands, where it rightly belongs. The good news is that God doesn’t depend on our ability; he is more interested in our availability, for his purposes are dependent on his power, not ours. St. Paul tells us that God didn’t choose many wise or powerful or wealthy; instead, he prefers to use the foolish, the weak, and the poor, so that it can be evident to all that anything that has any substance is God’s work, not ours. 

So tonight, I am grateful for those who have blessed millions with their gifts. I am grateful for those who have blessed thousands. And I am grateful to have over the course of a lifetime, been able to bless a few. Most of all, I am grateful to have been chosen to be a co-laborer with Christ. He didn’t have to choose me; he could have made a better servant from the stones beneath my feet, but he has given me the privilege of serving him as imperfectly as I do, and blessing it with mercy and grace.

Taking it For Granted

March 26, 2018

The box on the front seat of my truck is loaded with medicines. Over the counter stuff like vitamins, Tylenol, decongestants, and even bandaids. These are things to which we usually give little thought because they are so readily available any time we need them. But for Cubans, the relief we so easily come by is often unavailable at any price. One year when we visited, we opened two suitcases filled with even prescription medications in the presence of a physician who simply sat down and wept at the sight of life-saving medications that were unavailable to him. 

If I am to believe the news polls, our young adults are favorably viewing socialism in record numbers, apparently bewitched by its promises of equality and generosity. But as the UK’s former prime minister Margaret Thatcher once observed, socialism works just fine until you run out of other people’s money. Like every other country where it has been implemented, socialism impoverishes and enslaves its people. These same young adults who famously recite Santayana’s quote, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,” apparently haven’t done much more than remember the quote. They certainly haven’t studied the past.

Capitalism isn’t perfect. It hasn’t ushered in Utopia, but it has enabled more people to prosper than any other system. It will not produce the Kingdom of God, but no less than Jesus himself taught us to make friends with “unrighteous mammon,” (i.e. money), that it may serve higher purposes—not quite kingdom building, but close. 

I do not write tonight to rant about economics or politics, but simply to state my gratitude for a political and economic system that has enabled me to take for granted such things as aspirin and vitamins. Many live and die without the benefit of stuff we don’t even think about. I’m thinking about it tonight, and am humbled.

Speech

March 25, 2018

Three years ago, my friend Rick lost his ability to speak as a result of a stroke. Whatever connection the brain has to the tongue apparently has been severed, leaving him able to understand, but unable to communicate anything he is thinking. My visits with him end up being short. He is cooped up in his apartment, so one day is not much different from another. There wouldn’t be much to talk about even if he were able to speak. I try my best to keep him abreast of what’s happening in my world, but I’m not sure that’s much of a comfort or interest to him.

I’m thinking of Rick today because I was able to preach this morning. My voice was a bit froggy, but fortunately I didn’t have a coughing fit. I was able to present the Word of God as ably as I can, without interruption. I cannot imagine having things to say and not being able to find words to give expression to my thoughts and feelings. Language and the ability to communicate are amazing gifts we so often take for granted. St. John says that in the beginning was the Word; expression and communication is at the very heart of God himself. I believe it is one of the basic building blocks of what it means to be human. Without it, we become locked in a world of solitary silence, shrunken to the limitations of our inner thoughts. Today I am grateful for the ability to speak, to preach, to communicate the great love and power of God to people I love.

Breath

March 24, 2018

My only aunt was recently diagnosed with COPD. An oxygen cannula is her constant companion as she struggles for breath. I cannot imagine struggling for every breath. Well actually, I can. Slightly. I’ve been struggling with a chest cold that has me coughing and wheezing almost uncontrollably. I don’t like it one bit, but there is a silver lining in this cloud—unlike COPD, it will eventually disperse, and I will breathe freely again. 

I am grateful tonight for all the breaths I have taken and taken for granted. When one struggles to inhale, each breath is a gift and a reminder to pray for those who will never breathe easily again. It is a horrible way to live, and even worse way to die. I live, and give thanks and prayers for breath.

What We Don’t Have

March 23, 2018

A man was sentenced to 107 years in prison today for attempted murder of his girlfriend, and her father and mother. A young man is in prison for the beating death of his girlfriend’s baby, while she has been indicted for endangering the welfare of a child. Another woman was acquitted in the death of her boyfriend, but sentenced for a weapons violation. That’s just in one day in our area. 

My day was not quite so momentous. Talking and praying with a friend, counseling and praying for a young man, finishing my Sunday’s sermon, jazz band rehearsal, dinner and our grandkids’ school musical. Pretty ordinary stuff, most of which is of little concern or interest to others, so although I give thanks, in and of itself, this day is not much to write about. Except for one fact. 

Sometimes we are thankful not only for what has happened, but even more for what didn’t. We weren’t the victims of violence, nor were we perpetrators. We continue to benefit from the example and instruction of our parents, and from wise decisions made when we weren’t wise enough to make them. Instead of a family torn apart by anger and violence, we sat with family and friends enjoying the performance of three of our granddaughters. We go to bed tonight tired, but in peace and gratitude not just for what we have, but for what we do not have. Sometimes the best blessings are in the minus column.

Predatory Violence

March 22, 2018

The recent school shootings have headlined the news and captured the angst of the nation. Editorials praising the students who are inundating their representatives’ offices and others who have walked out of classes fill the papers and the talk shows. The NRA is vilified as a terrorist organization, and calls for more gun control echo through state houses and Congress. The NRA fires back, reminding us of the myriad of gun control laws already on the books that are ignored by criminals and unenforced by our courts. 

I have yet to hear anyone question the inherent racism in all the rhetoric. Minority children are being killed daily in our cities, with no one paying much attention. But when it’s a suburban white community, all of a sudden we sit up and take notice. And all the while, we guard what we value with armed guards at banks, and put up gun free zone signs in schools. 

I invested today in a seminar hosted by our county sheriff’s department which dealt with security and safety in churches, including dealing with active shooter situations. The presenter, nationally known and respected for her expertise in this area, related how parents have told her how afraid they are to send their children to school. “Your child is 500 times more likely to be killed in a car accident than in a shooting incident,” was her reply. These stories make the news, but they are far eclipsed by other dangers we accept without even a whimper. This is not to minimize the issue, but to put some balance into the discussion. The seminar went on to show us some of the indicators of predatory violence, and the steps we can take to minimize the risk. 

It was a good reality check, and a reminder that while we live in an unpredictable world, there is much we can do to minimize the risk of such incidents, most of which can be summarized in the words we’ve heard dozens of times: “See something, Say something.” The Parkland shootings was a tragedy that was preventable. Those who in response, push for more gun control have recently been ridiculing those who offer their prayers, but prayers and preparedness can do more than another layer of laws, unless those laws help us deal more effectively with mental illness. 

I am grateful tonight that while the world remains an often evil place, it is for most of us not nearly as frightening as the media would have us believe, and that there is much that we as ordinary people can do to prevent these kinds of incidents in the future.

Election

“If nominated, I will not run, and if elected, I will not serve.” So said William Tecumseh Sherman when approached about mounting a presidential campaign following the Civil War. That quote came to mind last night when I received a message from a friend asking if I had heard about Sinclairville’s election.

“No,” I replied; then asked why he asked.

“Rumor has it James Bailey was elected trustee with 3 votes.”

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“Totally serious. I should ask you on the record, ‘Will you accept?’” Not knowing what all it involved, I wasn’t sure, and replied that I’d have to check with a few people. I did, and will. 

God works in strange ways. I retired, and last summer was asked to “fill in” pulpit supply.  It started out as a couple Sundays, and here I am, still at it. Now this. Not too many people can say they won an election they didn’t even know they were in. Not sure whether that’s good or bad; I guess I’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, I have a lot to learn, and am thankful for an opportunity to serve my community in a new way. Give it a few months; we’ll see if anyone else is thankful.

Mocking the Powers

March 20, 2018

Christians around the world are approaching Holy Week, commemorating the last week of Jesus’ earthly life, beginning with the Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, and culminating in the crucifixion and resurrection on Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Those of other faiths and those of no faith at all don’t understand all the fuss and bother, but there is ample reason to observe this week with special services and celebrations.

For years, the Triumphal Entry of Jesus into Jerusalem didn’t make a lot of sense to me.  Why celebrate a rag-tag parade where the cheers would turn to jeers inside of a week? At first glance, it seems a lot like the runner who celebrates crossing the finish line prematurely, only to find to his chagrin that he was passed by the second place athlete.

If we examine the texts carefully, we see Jesus running what looks like a clandestine operation, sending his disciples out two-by-two with special passwords and detailed instructions on what they are to do and not to do. Luke 10 details much of this. And now in the 19th chapter of Luke, he sends them ahead into the city to look for a specific donkey, and again, with a password that releases the animal for his use. Nothing was left to chance; this was a carefully planned mission, for he was finally coming out in the open. It was time to act, and act, he did.

This parade was a deliberate lampooning of Rome’s power. The rulers of the various provinces would parade into conquered territory on war horses, often riding over the bodies of vanquished prisoners as their banners and standards fluttered in the wind. Jesus is mocking this show of power, riding instead on a donkey over the cloaks of his followers who wave the symbol of Jewish independence—palm branches while chanting “God save!” (Hosanna). The authorities watching from a distance would have understood exactly what he was doing; symbolically mocking their power and might. They would have their revenge on Friday, but Jesus had the last laugh. 

Confronting the powers of this world is always dangerous business. The powers don’t like to be challenged, much less mocked. They will have their revenge, but the last word always is with Jesus. Whatever power we confront today, whether addiction, lust, greed, pride, education, politics, or religion—they will fight back, but in the darkest night we can take courage because Jesus always has the last word. That makes me thankful tonight.

Royalty

March 20, 2018

Little girls often imagine themselves as royalty, beautiful princesses living in castles, clothed in gowns and crowns. Even adults are mesmerized by the glamour of royal life. We don’t have a monarch, but the stars of Hollywood and the high offices of state come with the splendor and pageantry that once were the sole provenance of royal courts. 

Linda and I have been watching “The Crown,” a Netflix series portraying the life and reign of Queen Elizabeth II. The settings and costumes are impeccable, portraying a magnificence and opulence most of us can only imagine. In the back of our minds we are saying, “I could get used to that!”

Until reality sets in. The duties of monarchy, the roles that tradition had forced upon the Queen and her husband Philip made their marriage unlike any other, with stresses and challenges we never have to think about. The Queen’s responsibilities as head of state and head of the Anglican Church meant that she had to make decisions that would tear at the very core of her family. If the series even approaches accuracy, royal constraints would in the end, affect everyone in the immediate family, either with limitations that would force them to toe a line most of us would find oppressive, or that served as a challenge to break barriers at will. 

The vanity and sterility of royal life is not anything I would choose. And yet, one doesn’t have to be royalty to be trapped in rigid tradition or wild abandon. There is much to be said for simplicity, purity, and integrity. Linda slumbers beside me. We are at peace, and have not the cares and responsibilities of royalty, even though in Christ, we are a royal priesthood, according to St. Peter. I’ll take that kind of royalty any day. It is a much happier life.

God’s Got It

March 18, 2018

The English is old, but the message is as up to date as tomorrow’s news. It’s from the daily devotional Linda and I use:

“I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep. — The foundation of God stands sure, having this seal, “The Lord knows them that are his.” And, “Let every one that names the name of Christ depart from iniquity.”

The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knows them that trust in him...

After you believed, you were sealed with that holy Spirit of promise, which is the earnest of our inheritance. — Now he who establishes us with you in Christ, and has anointed us, is God; who has also sealed us, and given the earnest of the Spirit in our hearts.”

Life has a way of cutting us down to size. Disappointment, difficulties, catastrophes of all sorts are sure to come our way. Being a child of God offers no exemption from heartache, no “Get Out of Jail Free” card as we navigate the board of life. At times, it’s hard to avoid wondering what God is up to, or if for some reason he has abandoned us. 

One of the most difficult life lessons is that our feelings lie to us. Feeling abandoned is very different from actually being abandoned. Feeling defeated doesn’t mean we are defeated. One of the most important lessons is that our experience of God is not the same as the God of our experience. My experience of God is always somewhat less than all he is. And the Bible tells us that he holds us securely—no one can pluck us out of his hand. 

In the Scripture quoted above, God does four things: he establishes us in Christ, anoints us, sealed us, and given us the earnest, or downpayment of the Holy Spirit. If I establish a business or ministry, I own it; it’s my dream child; it belongs to me. In Bible times, anointing was the sign of being specially chosen for divine purposes. In Bible times, the seal was a sign of ownership and authority. The earnest, or downpayment is just what a downpayment is today—a commitment to greater things to come.

All of this God has given us in Jesus Christ. No matter what I may or may not feel, God has acted on our behalf, and continues to do so. We may not always understand or like what life brings, but we can trust the One who brings it to us. For that, I am grateful tonight.

Patrick

March 17, 2018

Today is the day for corned beef and cabbage, and if you’re so inclined, green beer. St. Patrick Day’s parades used to be a big deal in cities like New York, Boston, Chicago, and Buffalo. I didn’t hear any mention of parades this year; perhaps their politicization last year when the LGBTQ community was granted permission to march has soured people. What I have observed is that politics poisons almost everything it touches, and it insists on touching everything.

That’s too much complaining for today, so I’ll stick to my point. St. Patrick was just that—a saint. But he wasn’t Irish. He was British (or Welsh, if you want to be a stickler), born around 390 AD, captured by pirates when he was sixteen, and taken to Ireland where he was enslaved till his mid-twenties. While there, he was converted. He finally managed to escape and made his way back home, where he subsequently had a dream in which he saw the Irish coming to him asking him to return. He did, never to return to his homeland. In his own words, he “came to the people of Ireland to preach the Gospel, and to suffer insult from the unbelievers, bearing the reproach of my going abroad and many persecutions even unto bonds, and to give my free birth for the benefit of others.”

Patrick faced such opposition that he wrote, “Daily I expect murder, fraud, or captivity.” He was undaunted by the difficulties, insisting that, “I cannot be silent about the great benefits and the great grace which the Lord has deigned to bestow upon me in the land of my captivity; for this we can give to God in return after having been chastened by him, to exalt and praise his wonders before every nation that is anywhere under heaven.” 

The celebrations we expect to see on this day are a far cry from the character of the man in whose honor the day is named, a man whose faithful devotion to Christ literally changed the course of a nation. Whenever I begin to feel overworked, overwhelmed, or just plain sorry for myself, I am glad to be able to claim the heritage of men like Patrick who challenge me to be better and do more than otherwise I might.

Incomprehensible Love

March 16, 2018

In Deuteronomy 31-34, God directs Moses to give a farewell speech to Israel, in which God peels off a list of all the ways Israel will betray and abandon the One True God. It is stated matter-of-factly; God knows these people and knows what they will do. He has already decided how he will respond by refusing to hear their prayers, by sending drought and pestilence, and by giving them up into the hands of their enemies. 

And yet, he refuses to abandon them completely. These are four amazing chapters in which God declares his faithfulness in spite of Israel’s faithlessness. Most of us have at one time or another had someone or multiple someone’s in our lives who started out well, declaring their loyalty, only to have them simply walk out of our lives at the least sign of trouble. Someone described a friend as someone who walks in when everyone else walks out. I’ve had both, and have had those who walked in later be the very ones who walked out. On one occasion, the man who had been my prayer partner listened to a trouble maker while we were on vacation. When I came back, he told me he couldn’t pray with me anymore. No explanation; just abandonment. Had I known at the beginning that he would turn on me, I would have been much more cautious in my friendship. In fact, I probably would have steered away right from the start.

God knew! And he knows every sin I will ever commit. Not only what I’ve already done, but he already knows when I will fall short, step aside, pursue my own desires. He sees it all, and it must cause him great pain. He knows this about every one of his children. Still, he chooses to claim us. There are times when he disciplines us, but he values our love so greatly that rather than orchestrate complete and unquestioned obedience, he gives us the freedom to choose whether or not we will follow him. And even when we don’t, he loves and remains faithful to us. It is incomprehensible, and I am eternally and humbly grateful for such prodigal love.

Sunshine

March 15, 2018

“Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy 

Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry 

Sunshine on the water looks so lovely 

Sunshine almost always makes me high…”

In 1971, I graduated from college, and John Denver came out with “Sunshine” on his “Poems, Prayers, and Promises” album. The world understandably paid more attention to his song than to my graduation. This song began running through my mind today as I drove to Rochester to visit my mother. It was snowing when I left home, the clouds scudding across a grey sky. Half an hour later, the clouds began to break up, revealing beautiful blue that lifted my spirits. Waking to those grey skies a few hours before, I had to pray myself into a good mood, reminding myself that my feelings don’t necessarily reflect reality. It’s a lesson that took me years to learn, but it’s one of the most important truths I’ve ever discovered: that I have the power to choose how I feel by remembering what I believe. Sadly, the world is filled with people who let their circumstances or the people around them to dictate how they see themselves and how they feel.

Admittedly, it’s easier when the sun is shining. Years ago when I was in seminary, my Systematic Theology professor did his doctoral work in Edinburgh, Scotland. He came away convinced that John Knox’s dour Presbyterian theology was a direct result of the bleak Scottish weather. He may have been right. Driving from dreary to delightful, from snow to sunshine certainly made me feel better. My prayers didn’t hurt, either; they started me out on the right foot. All I had to do was keep walking and keep praying. And when on the way home, I drove from sunshine back into blizzard, I was still praying, praising, and thanking God for his peace and joy that are freely given to anyone who is willing to believe and receive. So, John Denver, your song was beautiful, but it’s Jesus Christ whose Sonshine makes all the difference.

Unexpected Paths

March 14, 2018

The weatherman said we would get snow. This time, he really meant it. I’ve thought for years that the main requirement for being a weather forecaster is to fail a lie detector test, but this time, he was right on the money. It started in the night, and by dawn, we already had about six inches. And it just kept coming. I called the church to let them know I’d be a tad late. They were incredulous; the roads were still bare at noon. Plowing our driveway and our son’s (with a couple small jobs in between) took all morning; I never did get to work. 

It was a good day. I love the plowing, and had plenty of time to do it. It will need to be done again in the morning, but I am blessed with the equipment to handle it. The Carhartt overalls and jacket that Linda gave me for Christmas keep me toasty warm. Writing my sermon by the fire in the back room was an added bonus. 

The day didn’t go quite as planned, but it worked out. God has a way of doing that. We make plans, expect things to go in a certain way, until they don’t. My unexpectedly spending the day home instead of at work was a small matter, but life’s twists and turns are often catastrophic. We go through life, making plans that implode; a marriage ends, health breaks down, we get the pink slip. We are surprised, but God never is. And he always has a way through. When I can’t see my way; when I don’t understand the path I’ve been given, when I can’t feel God’s hand, I can trust his heart, and for that I amm thankful.

Snowbirds

March 13, 2018

A lot of folks my age believe that the best way to deal with Western New York blizzards is to quit the shoveling and plowing altogether and head south until it’s all over. It’s understandable, and certainly better than griping; when my parents wintered in Florida, a week’s visit in February was just what the doctor ordered to get me through the dreariness of endless cold and overcast skies. Stepping off the airplane into seventy and sunshine, flowers and palm trees, and inhaling the fragrance of orange blossoms never failed to invigorate me.

But a week was enough. Eating out every day, strolling through the enormous flea market next door to their mobile home park, attending the senior’s Bible studies, and doing minor repairs and maintenance on their home kept me busy enough, but after a week in sunshine, I was ready to come home to snow.

This morning, driving to Dunkirk as the day broke in all its cloudy glory, I gave thanks to God for the privilege of living where I do, snow and all. And to be able to work with such wonderful people. There’s no place I’d rather be, nothing I’d rather be doing. I only wish I had another ten years in me. God is good, and I am grateful.

Able

March 12, 2018

I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able.

Able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think.

Able to make all grace abound toward you; that you, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work.

Able to help those who are tempted.

Able ... to save to the uttermost those who come unto God by him, seeing he ever lives to make intercession for them.

Able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy.

Able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day.

He shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to the working whereby he is able even to subdue all things unto himself.

Do you believe that I am able to do this? ... Yes, Lord. According to your faith be it unto you.

—2 Tim. 1:12.  Eph. 3:20. 2 Cor. 9:8. Heb. 2:18. Heb. 7:25. Jude 24. 2 Tim. 1:12. Phil.3:21. Matt. 9:28,29.

These Scriptures were the March 8 evening reading from Our Daily Light, and have been rolling around inside my mind for the past three days. Like most people, I suppose, when confronted with a challenge that seems insurmountable, my first reaction is, “I can’t.” 

“I can’t pass this test. I can’t resist this temptation. I can’t give a tithe (10%) of my income. I can’t lose weight. I can’t learn another language. I can’t follow my dream. I can’t forgive.” The list goes on and on. I’ve uttered most of these words more than once. The problem with this kind of thinking is its focus. The issue in life is never what I can or cannot do; it is only what God can or cannot do. And when it comes to God, the cans far outweigh the cannons. He cannot lie. He cannot abandon his own. He cannot fail. 

The older I get, the easier it is to say, “I can’t.” But when I look at these Scriptures and see what he is able to do, my inability fades into obscurity. When God can, how dare I say, “I cannot?” When Caleb was 85, he begged Moses for another mountain to conquer. Years before, whenever we read his name, it is with these words: “except for Caleb.” He refused to follow the crowd, instead choosing to believe the promise of God that the land he had surveyed he was able to claim. Forty years later, his vision, energy, and passion had not diminished. “I am as strong today as I was forty years ago; So give me this mountain God promised me.” (Joshua 14:11-12). Most 85 year old men would have long before settled into a comfortable retirement. Not Caleb. He was able because he knew his God was able.

So today, instead of complaining that whatever is before me is too hard, or I’m too tired, or I have other things I want to do, I’m going to re-read these Scriptures and remind myself that no matter how I feel, no matter how big the mountain, God is able. And if he is able, I am, too.

Excellence

March 11, 2018

Those of us who plod through life admire talent and excellence from a distance. We recognize it when we see it, even if we can’t produce it ourselves. Last night, we attended our local school’s production of “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.” What is amazing to me is these kids memorizing all those lines and melodies and the choreography that went along with it. One of the narrators unfortunately lost her voice near the beginning of the show, but the others stepped right in without missing a beat. The auditorium was filled, and we were treated to excellence—the result of months of hard work. Excellence usually is.

Tonight our son presented his sister, sister in law, and mother each with a special kitchen knife he forged from the tines of his grandfather’s hay rake. Matt has worked for years perfecting his craft, and his attention to detail is another way of saying “excellence,” so much so that he has been invited to be on the TV show, “Forged in Fire.” Excellence is a synonym for sweat and refusal to settle for “good enough.” 

Our granddaughter Abi showed me a photo of her pointillist representation of her pet ducks which was so precise it was like looking at a photo. She has natural talent, but works long and hard to produce her works of art.

Whether it’s music, art, mechanics, research, or most any pursuit, people will line up for excellence. Most of us are average, but we know excellence when we see it. I’ve seen plenty of it lately, and it encourages me to pursue it myself. I may never get there, but the pursuit has value in itself. Tonight I am grateful for those whose pursuit challenges me. I see better because of their vision; I am better because of their effort.