Let it Go!

December 1, 2014

"What do you want for Christmas?" It's a question I've been asked more times than I can recall, and the answer is consistently, "I don't know what to say. What can I ask for when I have everything I need?" I remember the days when I couldn't come close to affording what I really wanted to buy for Linda, and when we needed things we could barely afford. That's all changed now. We have been blessed far beyond our wildest expectations, and there is literally nothing for which we lack.

So tonight when in men's Bible study we listened to Paul in Philippians 3 telling us about suffering the loss of all things for the sake of knowing Christ, I began to wonder about how this needing nothing impacts my relationship with Christ. How can I claim to be dependent on Jesus when in very practical ways I don't need to rely on him? Paul got to the place where everything was gone except Jesus. As Mother Teresa once said, "You don't know Jesus is all you need till Jesus is all you have." I thought of the athlete who gives up her social life in order to excel in her sport, practicing hours upon end to reach her goal. It's not a matter of giving up stuff for the sake of giving it up. Paul is talking about sacrificing the lesser in order to gain the greater. If we haven't emptied our hands and hearts of that which in reality holds onto us, we are unable to grasp the greater reality of life in Christ.

Am I willing to forego this pleasantry or pleasure for the sake of knowing Jesus? It can be most anything; sleep, recreation, a hobby, the stuff that takes up my time and attention while subtly enticing me away from time with Jesus. The movie "Frozen" has taken the world of childhood by storm. Even our little Gemma knows it, and if you ask her to sing, she'll twirl in circles chanting, "Let it go! Let it go!" I'm not convinced the lyricist was thinking theologically, but she got it right. I don't need more stuff to hold onto this Christmas. I need stuff to let go of. I'm grateful tonight for the Bible lesson. Now, to put it into practice...

Advent Freedom

November 30, 2014

It dawned on me about halfway through today's early worship service. This is the first Advent in over forty years where I haven't had to plan an Advent preaching series, or arrange special Advent wreath devotionals, or figure out what special services and programs we'll sponsor. Just about this time of year for nearly as long as I can remember, I've gotten this sick, panicky feeling in the pit of my stomach, thinking of dinners, Sunday School programs, Christmas Eve services, and the like. I've been blessed with a great team of people who over the years have picked up most of the load so that in recent years, it hasn't been oppressive, but I still worried a lot over it all.

The down side of it all is that I don't get to make the decisions about preaching, but come to think of it, that's the only down side. I wondered how it would feel to turn over the reins to my successor, what it would be like having someone else set the direction and cast the vision. So far, it's been wonderful! I'm able to sit back and enjoy church life, meeting new people and participating as I choose, without feeling that it's my job to follow up every new visitor or staying till the end of every church function to turn out the lights. This afternoon at the end of the community dinner Park sponsored, pastor Joe even herded me out the door, telling me to go home.

I've said it before so often that people either think I'm being paid under the table to sing Joe's praises, or they are just getting tired of it, but I'll say it again: I am so grateful for God's gift to Park church in the form of our pastor. His integrity, his love for Jesus, his leadership, all make it easy to retire. I've witnessed transitions that were disastrous, and am so blessed to be party to one that is a raging success. A year ago, I worried about what I would do if my successor were a dud. Most United Methodist pastors have at least a half dozen churches under their belts by the time they retire, unless they started pastoring as a second career. When that happens, succession doesn't carry the weight it did for me. If I had pastored in a variety of places, it's likely that at least one of them would have transitioned well. If one or two crashed and burned, I would always have had the others to lean on as witness to my ministry. But all my eggs were in Park's basket, and what happens here involves my entire life's work. I am pleased that it's being not only preserved, but used as a launching pad for the future. Its late now, but I lay my head down on my pillow in peace and contentment. Thank you, Joe; and thank you, God!

Expectations Exceeded

November 29, 2014

I backslid today. For the record, I'm not sure anyone really uses that word anymore. It was common enough when I was growing up, describing someone who had at one time been on fire for the Lord, but whose flame had flickered and gone out. Being good Baptists, we were confident that they would return to the fold. Eternal Security worked that way. Either that, or they weren't really genuine believers to begin with. "Backslider" was a word combining disappointment, fear, and hope, all wrapped up in those three syllables; disappointment that they had fallen off the wagon, fear lest it happen to you, and hope that they would eventually return.

I don't hear that word too often anymore. Maybe it sounds too judgmental for our tolerance-loving society, or with the demise of the concept of sin, there's no plateau from which one can actually slide backwards. Well, I am a denizen of an older world, one with definite standards and goals to be gained or lost. Today, I lost ground. It was a needless defeat, and it was my own fault. If I'm not careful, I'll lose even more ground, feeling somewhat proud that in an age where no one is willing to take responsibility for much of anything, I'm willing to admit my error. See what a fine fellow I am? See how easily pride can sneak in and muck up even one's confession?

We were busy doing good, Christmas shopping for a couple needy families. Our kids, grandkids, and Linda's sisters met us at Walmart, we divided up the names and money and were off to the races. It's really quite fun being a secret Santa, and in about an hour, we had five or six shopping carts bulging with gifts. At some point in the program however, I dropped my gaze from the goal and let myself become distracted by a situation that didn't meet my expectations. If thinking about this situation wasn't bad enough, I even gave voice to it, and a day that should have been bright with joy suddenly faded to a dirty grey. Nothing had changed, but everything changed when I changed. In my heart, I withered and shriveled into a Gollum-like creature, concerned only with what might please me. It wasn't pretty, and fortunately I had someone at my side who brought my attention to it. Strange as it seems, the voice of God's Holy Spirit often sounds a lot like Linda.

Happiness is, as the etymology of the word implies, tied to what happens. If something I perceive as good comes along, I am happy; if not, I am not. Jesus never promised us something as ephemeral as happiness. He promised us joy. The difference is that joy isn't dependent on what happens; it is rooted in the spirit. When my spirit is in touch with God's Spirit, joy is the result, no matter what happens around me. When I allow my gaze to drop from the heavenly places where it belongs, joy vanishes like early morning mist before the sun. I'm back now, and grateful for these lessons, for my wife who reminds me where my joy is found, and for the blessing of being on the giving side of life. That my expectations weren't completely met is irrelevant; I am not the center of anyone's universe. Christ is the center, and he always exceeds my expectations.

Blessings' Responsibility

November 28, 2014

All around the world, hatred, fear, greed, and a host of other evils seem to rule the day. Whether it's ISIS in the Middle East, thugs gloating over their rioting and looting in Ferguson, or the parent sitting exhaustedly by the hospital bedside of a child gasping for breath, there is plenty of trouble to go around. Today while all this and more is happening, I plowed the driveway, put what I hope is the finishing touches on the fireplace, sanded and varnished an exquisite little secretary desk, fixed the Christmas lights on the garage, and had a delightful evening sitting by my wife as we both read, listening to Christmas music in the background. We have been blessed with peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, peace with each other, with friends, children, and grandchildren. If I don't pay attention, it becomes easy to feel guilty for the blessings instead of feeling responsible for them.

Jesus said that to whom much is given, much shall be required. I have been given much. To feel guilt for blessings given by the grace of God would be a sin. This kind of guilt is self-centered, focusing on one's own feelings. It is also a dead-end, producing nothing of any value. Taking responsibility for blessings means receiving them with joy and sharing them with others. Tomorrow, we will gather with Linda's family to shop for a family in need. It is but a small gesture, but combined with prayers, practical help with chores, visits to the sick, light begins to dispel the darkness. Throughout Advent and even beyond, we will use our blessings as a platform to bless others.

I am truly grateful to have been placed where I am in life. I could as easily have been born in Afghanistan or North Korea, or on the south side of Chicago. In God's mysterious wisdom, he placed me here, at this time in history. He allowed me to hear and respond to the Gospel, to meet and marry a woman who has helped me be a better man, surrounded me with faithful friends. I will therefore keep praying, keep looking for ways to lift people up and speak of the love of Christ. It is my responsibility. And my privilege.

An Honorable Man

November 27, 2014

It all began over thirty years ago. My brother was working in a machine shop, utilizing the electronic skills for which he had been trained in the Navy, but hating every minute of it. If all the drama and backbiting weren't enough, the confines of the shop just about drove him crazy, so when he had the opportunity to buy into a farm, he jumped. He absolutely loved the farm life, and worked hard at it. It wasn't his fault that under the presidency of Jimmy Carter, we suddenly saw energy costs skyrocket, along with interest rates that rivaled any loan shark of the Prohibition era. I don't know how many small businesses were crushed beneath the fatal combination of recession and inflation, but I know everything necessary to the running of a farm suddenly got more expensive while the price of milk plummeted. When his boys were not yet teenagers, his dream finally died as they sold off everything for which they had worked so hard, paid all their outstanding debts and walked away with the clothes on their backs.

My brother has always been an honorable man, and was never without work. He drove a streetsweeper for some years, worked in a number of small machine shops, but it seemed to me that the fire in his soul had flickered out. We talked occasionally about the future, but he had been hit too hard to try his hand at self-employment again. To my shame, in my own heart, I judged him, wanting him to get back in the fight. It wasn't until years later when Park church nearly folded amidst conflict that I understood what he had gone through. It took me ten years to really get back on my feet, and I didn't lose everything. So, my brother, I apologize, and ask your forgiveness. You are a better man than I.

Through all this, his faith remained strong. He was faithful to his wife, served in his church, never complained, raised four boys to manhood, and finally retired a few years ago.

Today, Linda and I drove to their home in Churchville, NY, for Thanksgiving dinner with him and his wife, my mother, two of his four sons with their children, my sister and her oldest daughter with her husband and children. We had a wonderful time! So often when families gather, the older folks talk amongst themselves while the younger generation does the same. Today, age didn't matter as we talked, ate, and laughed together, young and old alike. Everyone gathered around their tables is a committed follower of Jesus Christ, and there was absolutely nothing in our conversation that failed to build us up and encourage us in life. I've been to family gatherings where the tension was palpable. Here, there was none.

So tonight, I am thankful for my older brother, for the example he has lived out of what it means to be a Christian man, husband, father, and grandfather. He took what to many would have been a fatal blow, and through it showed his sons how a man of God handles adversity. And not only his sons. He showed me, too.

Thanksgiving Traditions

November 26, 2014

Thanksgiving Eve is one of my favorite days of the year! We gather at our daughter's with both our sons and everyone's families; our three children, their spouses and children, numbering seventeen in all. Gathering as a family is not what makes this such a special day; after all, we gather at our home for Sunday dinners on a regular basis. No, Thanksgiving Eve is special because of a family tradition we have had for more than a decade. It's the Thanksgiving Tablecloth. In 2003, Linda bought a plain muslin tablecloth on which we wrote that for which we were thankful in that past year. Every year since, we've added to it till we have to squeeze our gratitude into whatever spaces we can manage to find. It bears a record of blessings we treasure, including the outline of Nathan, laid there when he was but a month old, ever-growing hand tracings of Alex and Abi, illegible scribblings of grandchildren who were toddlers, with parental interpretations, and our own remembrances of everything from merely having made it through the year intact to this year's gratitude for our new pastor and a healthy Park church we've been privileged to hand over to his leadership. These past eleven years have brought much change into our lives, many challenges, but also many blessings. Our tablecloth is one way we have of keeping count.

After this time of recollection and thanksgiving, we gather in the living room to watch a scene in "A Christmas Story," after which son in law Todd ceremoniously brings the Leg Lamp (Yes, he has a genuine, full size Leg Lamp, given to him by his sisters in law some years ago. He sets it on the table in the dining room window, accompanied by appreciative cheers, after which everyone except Jessie troops outdoors, quoting the movie script and cheering while Jessie obligingly moves the lamp to the right and left. For the Andersen/Baileys, the Christmas season has officially begun! Am I grateful? You bet!

Shrinking Horizons, Expanding gratitude

November 25, 2014

These days, my life is lived on a small scale. I'm not by any means one of this world's movers and shakers, so it never was very large, but since retirement, it's shrunk even more. I'm not sure what to make of it. I've watched as my parents went from traveling up and down the eastern seaboard with RVICS, doing volunteer work at Christian camps, colleges, and retreat centers, to living in a retirement home, no longer driving, and finally just staying home reading, watching TV, and spending time with the family. I say "shrunk," but I'm not sure what that means. Sometimes those who seem to be hugely influential in this life find at the end of it that their influence was more illusory than real. The despot or monarch whose word or glance can spell the difference between life and death for hundreds of thousands finds that power is easier to attain than maintain, and that it has its own price. The weight of power is heavy. A recent photo of our president showed him with greying hair that he didn't have when he first took office. I'm not convinced it's just that he's six years older. No matter what one thinks of how he's handled the job, the weight of responsibility has taken its toll. I wonder if at the end of the day it will seem as important to him. I wonder how he manages to be a father to his girls, how he is able to carve out the time needed to talk to them about love, disappointment, broken hearts, and responsibility.

I am grateful to have avoided those dizzying heights of fame and responsibility. What little I've had has garnered enough criticism and enough headaches for me. It's not that I don't want to make my mark on this world for Christ, but as Abraham Lincoln once remarked, "God must love the little man. He made so many of them." I remember wanting to make an impact on the world. That desire diminished when I realized that to make an impact there must be a collision, and collisions are usually destructive, painful experiences. I'm less intimidated by them than I used to be; on the other hand, I don't have much to prove to anyone these days, and no one I need to impress except my wife. I'm discovering more each day that for which to give thanks, most of which would be unimpressive to anyone else, but which fills me with deepening wonder. I've been spared a life lived under a microscope such as our President experiences every day; instead of living under the microscope, I have the privilege of seeing life through a microscope, looking at small blessings and knowing that they are the building blocks of life.

All this is to say that I'm learning how much bigger life is than I perceive, and how grateful I am for the small part I've been able to play in God's grand scheme of things. I'm part of the Body; maybe only a toenail, but I'm a part of it, and humbled to have been chosen, thankful to be given time to reflect and bow before the Mystery of God himself.