A Simple Wedding Made Beautiful

August 31, 2014

This will be short tonight, as it's late (actually early, since it's past midnight). I had the privilege of officiating at my nephew's wedding this evening. Things were a bit dicey at first, since it was a garden wedding and at 4:00 the skies opened up with a deluge of nearly Biblical proportions. The mother of the groom was somewhat nervous, and it was almost decided to move operations to the nearby church, but in talking with the bride, I wasn't convinced it's what she really wanted to do. Steve (the nephew) double-checked the weather radar and reported that by 7 pm (showtime!), it should be all over. It was, and everything came off without a hitch, except for the couple themselves, who did get hitched.

The tiny white lights on the backdrop, the tealight luminaries down the back steps and stretching down the path to the wedding site, and hanging from the tents set up in the side yard, added a fairy-tale setting to the occasion. Getting everything to look that nice took a lot of work, and it was our girls who were front and center for the task. Jess, Deb, and Jeanine pitched in stringing lights, helping with the table settings, while the guys helped Steve's dad Ken set up extra tents, tables, and chairs. Even the grandkids got in on the act. We arrived around 4:00 pm to a single tent and tables, and by 7:00, all was in beautiful readiness.

Sisters Linda, Barb, and Pen worked the kitchen, I grilled the chicken, and everything fell into place. The old saying is true: "Teamwork makes the dream work." I am grateful for my daughter and daughters-in-law, for my sons and son-in-law, who jumped right in, both before and after the wedding. It was a memorable evening, a gift of love for family, and Linda and I get the added blessing of knowing it was our kids who helped make it all happen.

Bloodied in a Berry Patch

August 30, 2014

This morning we attended the funeral for Debbra's grandfather Sliter. He was a WWII vet who fought in the Battle of the Bulge, a fact few in his family knew until recently. He was of that generation that did what they had to do to save Western Civilization, then came home to raise a family and live honorably. Our son Nathan, Debbra's husband, officiated, and in doing so, said something that got me to thinking. In short, I learned something important from my son today.

As he presented the Gospel, he told of picking blackberries for Debbra. He had to fight his way through the brambles and vines to get to the berries, and came out of it somewhat bloodied by the ordeal. Relating it to death and grieving, he spoke of the difficult business of letting go; we get so intertwined with each other in life that we don't go through it without getting a bit bloodied in the process. Then he switched gears a bit and talked about the cost of forgiveness. The Scripture tells us that without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sins (Hebrews 9:22). Nate concluded from this text that forgiveness (the word literally means "to let go") is a costly, bloody, difficult ordeal. The fruit God was seeking lay in the middle of a briar patch of our sins that cling and cut anyone who dares venture in for the berries. Letting go is bloody business, and it took going through the thorns and briars, getting bloodied at the cross for God to let go of our sins. It's not just a sacrificial theme; it's the way life works. Hebrews 12:2 tells us that Jesus went through it all because he could see the berries in the patch, ie. the goal of our salvation. But getting there took the shedding of blood.

I'd never before looked at those texts in quite that manner. Whenever I considered the sacrificial texts, there was always in my mind the picture of an innocent lamb, throat slit and bloodied upon an altar, but never a berry patch. It's an image that draws me in and gives me a new appreciation for what Christ did for us. Just as Nate waded into that berry patch for love of Deb who loves blackberries, Jesus waded into this life, getting bloodied at the cross because in his love for us, he could see the goal and said, "You are worth it." Tonight, I am grateful for the Gospel lesson I learned from my son at a funeral.

For the Love of Christ

August 29, 2014

For over forty years, I haven't been able to figure it out. But today I did. A situation arose recently that's brought a measure of distress into the lives of some of our Park church young adults. I was made aware of it last night, and today, I took some time out and paid a couple of them a visit. Two months ago, it would have been a pastoral call; today, it was simply a gift of love. Forty four years; that's how long I've been preaching, and all that time, I've never been able to figure out whether what I do is purely Christian charity or if it's just my job. I've never been able to actually volunteer, I've never known for sure what it's like to serve purely out of love for Christ. The lines have always been blurry, but today they were clear and precise.

I didn't have to go. I had other things to do, but made a choice because some people I love were hurting, and although there was nothing I could do to alter the situation and make it better, I was able to let them know of my concern for them; I was able to listen and to pray.

I'm not saying any of this to brag or draw attention to myself. The people I've pastored for these more than four decades have been doing this sort of thing day in and day out for years. They've gone out of their way, given of themselves, showed up with a shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen. None of them have ever been paid to do these things. They have acted again and again simply for love of Christ. I suspect that I've not recognized as I should have, the value of these daily gifts of love, and now I am grateful to finally walk in their shoes and live as a Christian, not because I'm paid to do so, but for love of Christ. It is a good feeling, and a good place to be...finally.

The Myth of General Gratitude

August 28, 2014

Each evening, I write about something for which I am thankful. It's been a good discipline that has yielded the unexpected benefits of peace of mind, greater happiness, and a deeper understanding of God's grace. But even with all these blessings, I've noticed that lately I've been waking up with that same old ennui that plagued me for so many years; maybe not with the same intensity, but it does seem to have returned to nip at my heels again. I suspect that keeping my eyes peeled for some particular relationship, event, or thing, while beneficial in one sense, has at the same time distracted me from simply seeing what IS.

This morning as I awoke, I lay in bed not wondering what I would be thankful for today, but instead actually praying and thanking God for the blessings I've received. I thanked him for people in my life, for health and home, for the goodness and grace that continues to pursue me in spite of myself. I prayed for people in need, for our country and its leaders, for this sad and weary world that teeters on the edge of armageddon.

I had to go to town later in the day, and on the way, I was overwhelmed with life itself. It was a beautiful sunny day, with wisps of clouds overhead, cool temperatures, and a slight breeze; just right for the bike. My errands took me slowly through Amish country with its horse-drawn buggies, bonnet-topped girls, and barefoot boys. I passed a pair of Clydesdales hauling a wagon load of wood out of a field. Their homes are simple, always painted white, and often with a vegetable stand out front. For the entire twenty minute ride, I just lived in the moment, grateful for what I was seeing, for what I've been given, for life itself. Again I prayed, because generalized gratitude is slippery and elusive. I should know. It's one thing to be generally grateful; it's quite another to actually thank God. Without him, my gratitude is only partial. Thankfully, I do have him to thank, and today, I am not just thankful; I am thankful to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Author and Giver of life.

My Industrial Revolution

August 27, 2014

Some have claimed that it's responsible for the Industrial Revolution, and I partly believe it. It certainly gave a boost to my industrial capacity today. The lowly coffee bean; originally cultivated in Ethiopia, it is now grown all around the world in the tropical belt north and south of the Equator. I've often wondered whatever possessed someone to pick the coffee cherry, throw away the outside, dry and roast and crush the bean, then boil it in water, throw it away and drink what's left. I can't imagine doing that with peanuts or cashews!

In 18th Century England, water in the cities was unfit to drink, so beer, wine, and rum lubricated all classes of society, which wasn't particularly conducive to productivity in the work force. Tea was of course, the quintessential English drink, but it did little to keep laborers working the long hours required by their overseers. Enter coffee. Suddenly, people could work longer hours without the limitations of ordinary weariness. A cup mid-morning, at lunch, and mid-afternoon kept workers alert and energized, which helped spike productivity. At least, so goes the tale.

My story is not the stuff of history, but it is worth noting (to me, at least). I just didn't feel like having a cup of joe this morning; sometimes it just doesn't appeal to me. So I ate my Cheerios and half a bagel with the requisite peanut butter, and sat down to read my Bible. That always brings on the sleepies; I think the devil's favorite and most useful helper is the Sandman. I bravely fought him off, said my prayers, and started my workday. Today was slated for preparing the bathroom ceiling for new tile. I can't do much more with the cupboards till I know where the ceiling is going to be, so I had to remove the fluorescents and install two by fours crossways in a valiant attempt to level things up so it will look at least halfway decent when I'm done.

Jessie brought her three kiddos for a visit while she went to the hairdresser at 11:00, so work came to a halt for an hour and a half, then it was back to the salt mines. About two o'clock, I told Linda I felt like I could barely keep moving. She encouraged me to quit for the day and take a nap, but I want to get this project done, and naps aren't much help in that department. Then I remembered; I hadn't had any coffee in the morning. It's odd; I've given it up twice for Lent, with the only noticeable effect being feeling a bit fuzzy-headed for a couple days at the start, but today it felt like my entire body was like a 78 LP playing at 33 1/3 (For those whose memory goes no further back than CD's or cassette tapes, I was in slo-mo).

Linda brewed me up a pot of my Starbucks Italian blend (gosh, that's good stuff!), and after a brief sipping and talking respite on our back deck, I was back to work. Twenty minutes later, I felt great, and worked until about 8:00 pm, with a short break for supper. I've never thought myself dependent on the stuff, but it sure was a life-saver today! Again, nothing here that's going to make the evening news, but I am very thankful today for that Ethiopian discovery hundreds of years ago. It blessed me today.

A Quiet Heart for Troubled Times

August 26, 2014

This morning our Tuesday pastor's prayer meeting began as it always does, with a meditation by one of the pastors. Today's presenter talked about some of the popular prophetic teachings that have been making the rounds lately. He spoke of Blood Moons, seven year cycles that correspond with the ancient Jewish feasts, relating them to some of the significant world events in recent years. He correlated these cycles with the birth of the modern state of Israel, the 1967 Six Day War, the attack on the Twin Towers, and the rise of ISIS.

It took me back to when I was a teenager. I remember the Six Day War, and the evangelical press aftermath. Books and articles by the hundreds hit the shelves and magazines, all of them relating the then current events to the "prophetic calendar," and positing our entry into the Last Days. That was nearly fifty years ago! The popular authors of the day wrote prolifically about eschatological events that were supposedly happening right before our eyes. Hal Lindsay and Tim LaHaye led the charge, but there were many others beating the same drum.

I respect our morning's presenter, and all those gathered in the room who seemed to be in complete agreement with him, and I almost spoke up, but others were quicker to chime in, and I didn't get the chance. I appreciate the different gifts God has given to the Church, among which are scholars, people fascinated with obscure Biblical events and interpretations. The fact is however, that I am not among this crowd. I find it hard to get excited by such stuff, I suppose because I've seen it all before. On the other hand, they may be right, and we could be staring The End in the face. My grandfather fully expected to see the Lord's return in his lifetime. He didn't, but the Scriptures do tell us to stay awake, to read the signs of the times, and be ready at any time for Christ's return.

Today's presenter suggested that as pastors, it was our responsibility to make sure our people know these things, in which case I've failed miserably. It would have been somewhat of a guilt trip for me except I remembered the 131st Psalm, which was written for simple people like myself.

It is titled, "A Song of Ascents," which means it was sung as God's people processed up the hill to worship at the temple. It was a time of remembrance and of joy, this being just one of many praise songs the melody and lyrics of which would have filled the air as the people climbed the hill. John Michael Talbot wrote a beautiful song based on this psalm for his 1980's album "Come to the Quiet." It was this song that prompted me years ago to take this psalm seriously. It goes like this:

"LORD, my heart is not haughty,
   Nor my eyes lofty.
Neither do I concern myself with great matters,
  Nor with things too profound for me.
Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul,
  Like a weaned child with his mother;
  Like a weaned child is my soul within me.
O Israel, hope in the LORD
  From this time forth and forever."

George Washington Carver is said to have prayed for God to allow him to make some great scientific discovery that would bring world peace. God told him that was too big for him, so he prayed to be able to discover the cure for some horrible diseases. God told him even that was too much for him. So he asked God what was more his size. "How about the peanut?" God answered.

I am grateful for those fascinated by these prophetic teachings, but as I say, I can't get interested, much less worked up by them. There are great matters in the world today, but God hasn't called me to concern myself with them. It takes all I can do to calm and quiet my soul before God, but this I must do if I am to be of any use to God and his Kingdom. So I listen politely, then go back to my own calling. And I remember that my hope (and yours) is not in whether we understand the latest teachings about blood moons or prophetic correlations with current events. Our hope is in, and only in the LORD, now and forever.

Church as it Should Be

August 25, 2014

Some jobs just can't be interrupted without doing harm to the entire project. Today I laid the tile for the bathroom floor. Once the thinset is mixed, it's work till you're done; if it dries out, it's no good. So, knowing that cutting around the toilet drain and its supply line is a bit tricky and takes extra time, I only mixed half a bag at a time. It was a good thing that I did; otherwise half of it would have set up before I was finished.

About 6:15, it was time to head to church for our men's and women's Bible studies, but I was in the middle of the job, so Linda went on without me. I don't like bailing out like that, but I had little choice if I didn't want to waste my thinset, which I didn't want to do. There really wasn't that much left to do, so I figured I could wrap it up in half an hour and get there at least somewhat on time. Time management has never been my forte. Linda was pulling in the driveway at 9:00 just as I had turned out the lights in the garage after cleaning up all the tools.

I like laying tile. I like seeing the pattern I've chosen unfolding before my eyes, tile by tile. I like the feel of the ceramic. But I don't like missing our men's Bible study. It's partially about the study, but it's mostly about the men. I've never understood people who worship hit and miss. The connection we've built over the years is a rare treasure. I've read the statistics. Most men can't name one close friend they could count on in a pinch. I've got a dozen and more. We talk. We laugh. We give each other friendly jabs. But we also pray and hold each other accountable.

Roman Catholic doctrine holds that there is no salvation outside the Church. In its purest form, this references the Roman Catholic denomination, and in this sense, I wouldn't be able to agree. But the word "Catholic" really means universal, and technically refers to the entire body of believers who comprise the Body of Christ. In that sense, this doctrine is absolutely true. When we are baptized, we are baptized into the family of God. Baptism isn't a private rite, "just you and me, Jesus." It is a corporate act where individuals through faith in what Christ accomplished in his death and resurrection on our behalf are brought into the sphere of salvation, ie. the Church, the Body of Christ.

The Holy Spirit we have been given is strictly speaking, the Holy Spirit of Christ. God doesn't spray the Holy Spirit around willy-nilly. The Holy Spirit while everywhere present, uniquely inhabits the Church, the Body of Christ. I've chronicled before the frequent difficulties I have maintaining a devotional life. Often, my Bible reading feels stale and my prayers powerless. But when I am with other believers, something in me is energized. There is a connection between the Spirit of Christ in me and the Spirit of Christ in my brothers and sisters that brings an aliveness that sweeps through me like the mighty rushing wind mentioned in Acts 2. Together, there is more than just two or three gathered; Christ is there too, just as he promised.

I missed being with the guys tonight. And I am so grateful for these men who build into my life, enriching it in ways beyond imagination. They are more than friends; they are brothers through whom God loves and works and speaks into my life.