Ushers to God

June 1, 2015

Yesterday I wrote about the strenuous difficulty of entering into God's promised rest. This morning, I woke later than usual, making me hurry to get ready for church. Just as I was heading out the door, Harry called me, wondering when I would arrive and enter the songs into the presentation program. Somehow, I missed the email with the month's schedule. Linda had taken the truck to Matt's for breakfast, her car was getting some bodywork done, so rain or no rain, I hopped on the bike and was at the church in five minutes, only slightly wet. Fortunately, Bob was already there and on the job, covering for me. Did I mention what a great team we have at Park church? If that weren't enough for which to be thankful, there was more on tap.

We are twice-blessed at Park, with two youth bands, "Path of Grace," our junior band consisting of our elementary-aged youth, and "Faces of the Ground," our senior band. The younger kids led us in our opening worship song, providing voice with guitar and keyboard accompaniment. The older youth had full band. What was impressive was their heart. They weren't just playing notes and singing lyrics. They led us with their hearts. It's a good thing they did, because with my early morning rush, I hadn't even begun to enter into God's rest. I wasn't ready for worship, and it took their worship to lead me in. Frankly, it wasn't easy.

In the Biblical story of Esther, one couldn't enter the presence of the king unless bidden. Access to royalty and privilege is never easy. The protocol for entering the presence of a head of state is strict and lengthy; one doesn't just waltz in lackadaisically. One must be ushered in by a trusted associate. Rushed as I was earlier, I hadn't taken the time nor had I striven to enter God's rest, and I couldn't walk right in on my own. These kids today were God's associates, ushering me into his Presence, for which I am very thankful.

Strenuous Rest

May 29 and 30, 2015

Yesterday was our granddaughter Alexandria's 17th birthday, which alone is enough reason to give thanks. She is a delightful young woman, beautiful inside and out, blessing everyone she meets with words of encouragement, and a listening heart. She will spend the summer on the mission field in Uganda working with a young woman from Park church. Are we proud of her? You bet!

For me, the day was spent in Syracuse for Annual Conference, then the ride home with pastor Joe. We were both thankful that the rainy weather predicted for both the ride out and the ride back didn't materialize, and the helmet intercom set Linda bought me for Christmas worked perfectly. Though separated by up to a quarter mile at times, we were able to talk about ministry issues the entire way home. The weather was perfect, and we repeatedly gave thanks for safety and the joy of riding.

This morning I read an article about praying the Scriptures, then read in Hebrews 4:11 about striving to enter God's rest. It's an odd phrase, and is not accidental. How does one strive for rest? On the surface, it doesn't make sense. But as I meditated on it, and offered this text as a prayer, I thought about how often I've imagined I could almost saunter my way into God's presence, or lazily read the Scriptures expecting to meet the Lord. God's rest doesn't work that way. This afternoon, Linda and I were sitting on our back deck talking. We had been there about five minutes when she jumped up, grabbed a broom, and started to sweep off the debris that accumulated through the night. "You'd hardly believe I did this just yesterday," she exclaimed. The deck clean, she sat down and said, "It is so hard for me to sit. I start reading my Bible, and see something that needs to be done. It takes me forever to just sit down and focus."

I don't have the same eye for clutter, but I understand the problem. Entering into rest, especially God's rest, is never easy. We are easily distracted, and there is the Enemy of our souls, constantly at work doing whatever he can to keep us from resting in Christ, even if it's as innocuous as sweeping a deck. But if we don't persist, if we don't strive to enter, we can never discover the deep soul-rest God wants us to experience. I can't just slide comfortably into the Presence of God. There are too many barriers in this old world. That Presence is a place that must be fought for, with all the energy and strength we have. To do less dooms us to a restlessness that is characteristic of this lazy, distracted world. I am thankful tonight for God's rest, and pray for strength and grace to strive mightily enough to enter in.

Why I've Stayed

May 28, 2015

Tonight after dinner, the guys who are staying at the house instead of the hotel decided to just go home. Well, not quite. They wanted to go out for pizza, so I found myself back on the road again, with the one caveat: I was NOT going to stay out till 1:30 like they did last night. I'm working on being an old man, after all. I'm getting pretty good at going to bed early; now I'll have to start working on my crustiness and curmudging. I think I'll be able to pick it up a lot quicker than the Spanish I've been working on for the past five years.

One of the other pastors wanted to ride in the sidecar, and having an extra helmet, I obliged. He was like a kid on a roller coaster, hands in the air and laughing like a maniac. Well, maybe not maniacally, but close enough for my purposes. We got to our destination, ordered the pizzas, and sat down to debrief on the day's activities. The big event today was the roundtable discussion time where everyone sat at tables to talk about homosexuality. A number of petitions were again brought to Conference with the hopes that they would be affirmed, basically striking all wording that speaks of homosexual behavior as "incompatible with Christian teaching," as well as anything that could be construed as "hurtful." We've been talking about this for 40 years, and may be coming to a tipping point for the denomination. There's been talk of "amicable separation;" It will be a sad day when (I believe it is a matter of 'when' rather than 'if.') that separation finally comes. On the one hand, maybe we will finally be able to focus on our mission of making disciples of Jesus Christ, a mission that has gotten shoved to the back burner for a generation, as evidenced by our hemorrhaging membership. On the other hand, my more liberal friends have taught me to listen more carefully, and to not just write them off. I cannot say as some would, that they don't love Jesus or take the Scriptures seriously. I believe their hearts may be right, but their heads are wrong. I will miss the challenge they give me to search the Scriptures and my own heart, trying to cut through my own biases. When we only talk with those with whom we agree, we don't grow.

I don't know when the day will come, and I could be wrong. It's happened before. But it appears as I've said, that we are getting close to a tipping point. Although it has been often a bumpy ride, I've appreciated what I've learned in my not-always-beloved denomination. I am grateful that some 45 years ago, God led me to the United Methodist Church. I was asked today why as a conservative, I've stayed. The answer is simple: I am convinced God led me here. Actually, he railroaded me, dragged me kicking and screaming, and slammed doors shut so I couldn't leave. Doesn't sound very complimentary, but it's the truth. And in truth, though it's often been a love-hate relationship, it's been good for me, and the church has been good to me. Divorce is a terrible thing, whether it's a marriage or a church. It's not something to be entered into lightly. I've been married for 45 years, and if my wife left me every time I did something stupid or sinful, we wouldn't have lasted a single one of those 45 years. Is our marriage perfect? No, but it keeps getting better. I keep hoping for the same with my church, and in the meantime, thanking God for the lessons I couldn't have learned anywhere else, for the difficult times that stretched me, and for the nourishing times that have filled my soul. I've had both, and I believe both have been equally, God's gift of grace to me.

Meeting together

May 27, 2015

Anyone who knows me knows I am not much of a fan of the Annual Conference of our denomination. Part of it has to do with the generally more liberal (I don't use the word "Progressive" because I'm not sure the positions taken by those who claim the nomenclature are actually advancing much except for the continuing decline of our church), stance of that body, but much of it is due to my wife's love rubbing off on me. I just don't like being away from her. Yesterday before I left for the ride to Syracuse, we drove to Hamburg together for a doctor's checkup (fyi, everything's fine). I had stuff to do around home, but I just like being with her. Being away is like only half of me being here. If it were a scenic ride, or hanging out with people we both know and love, I would love having here here. But she knows almost no one from the Conference, and would not have a fun time sitting through the meetings, so it's better for me to miss her than to have her here, not enjoying herself.

The forty-plus years I've been coming to Annual Conference have had their benefits. I've gotten to know and appreciate people whose perspectives on life and faith are vastly different than mine. Forty years ago, I would likely have written them off as apostate unbelievers. I could possibly do that today with some of them today, but I've made some wonderful friendships that have enriched me and helped me see things in ways that wouldn't have been possible before.

And there are those times between the formal sessions where we just sit and talk, building friendships that will, Lord willing, last for years to come. We have some great people, most of whom know how to disagree without being spiteful and vindictive. I've often said that if we spent half our time at conference just talking with each other, and the other half worshipping together, we wouldn't be wasting so much time on issues that pit us against each other adversarially. Any time a vote is taken, there are winners and losers; the whole process is designed to polarize people. Why we ever adopted this model for what we call "Holy Conferencing" is beyond me. It often ends up being far from holy, and with precious little conferencing. Maybe someday we'll be smart enough to change the way we make decisions. Maybe if instead of offering a quick prayer before we take a vote, we spent the entire time praying, we wouldn't even need to vote. Maybe the Spirit would descend as at Pentecost because we finally prayed our way through to be of the same mind. Now THAT would be a Holy Conference!

It hasn't happened in my lifetime, but who knows? If enough people get tired of our inertia, we might just try something new (or would it be old?). Until then, I am grateful for the opportunities to worship, talk, and pray, even if we don't do enough of it. After all, we are Methodists, and Methodists are as Wesley put it, "going on to perfection." We haven't yet arrived, but hopefully, we aren't just sitting still. If I can be thankful for Conference, at least I know that I'm not sitting still.

A Good Ride

May 26, 2015

Today's post is a bit late. The evening was spent not at home writing, but on the road to Annual Conference. Yep, you heard it correctly; I am back at Annual Conference. A couple weeks ago, when talking with a fellow clergyman, somehow the subject came up, to which he responded, "You're retired! Why are you going to Annual Conference? Are you crazy?" For those unfamiliar with the term 'Annual Conference,' it is the once-yearly meeting of pastors and laity for we United Methodists, where business is conducted, new pastors are voted in, retired are voted out, resolutions and budgets are passed (or not), and worship is offered. Except for the preaching of our bishop, which is the best I've ever heard from a bishop, much of it, in spite of valiant efforts to the contrary, is bureaucratic, and therefore (in my humble opinion) dreadfully boring. So my friend's question had a certain level of relevance.

My answer apparently wasn't very impressive. "Pastor Joe asked if I would ride motorcycle with him."

"Are you crazy?" He was maddeningly fixated upon that question.

"I must be," was the only response I could think of that would end the interrogation while being somewhat close to the truth. Thus, my being on the road for four and a half hours. The trip to Syracuse normally doesn't take quite that long, but I'm riding the Ural, which doesn't like speeds much above 55. When I say, "doesn't like," I mean at prolonged high speeds parts can begin to fall off, or the engine can begin to internally disintegrate. So we poked along at 55, with semis and other vehicles whizzing by us. It was actually quite a pleasant ride. By the time we got to Rochester, it was dark, and the Thruway was pretty traffic-free. The evening air was warm, and occasionally the sweet fragrance of locust blossoms wafted across my face.

I was, and am grateful for the incredible life I've been given, with the freedom to ride, and a motorcycle that can carry two full toolboxes, a suitcase, backpack, and duffle bag, besides various other tools and equipment. (Joe's brother rode two up with him to Rochester, while I carried his tools and gear) Sidecars are one of God's gifts to mankind! Or maybe just to me.

Memorial Day

May 25, 2015 Memorial Day

For about a month, I've been limping around with a sore foot. The podiatrist said it is "Plantar Fascitis," essentially tennis elbow of the foot. He gave me some steroid pills that really helped, but once they were gone, the pain returned. He gave me a steroid shot in the heel; lots of fun, I can say! That too, wore off, and for the past week, I've been hobbling around like an old man, which I will not admit to. With the yard and garden work we've been attacking over the weekend, it's really flared up.

But I refuse to complain. Memorial Day is a reminder of the life and death sacrifices made by our military. So many died horribly painful deaths from their injuries, while countless others survived, but broken in body and soul, suffering daily, often for years. Whatever discomfort my foot gives me is merely that...discomfort, not worth comparing to the disfigurement, disability, and pain they live with constantly. I am grateful tonight for their sacrifices and for the life I am privileged to live because of them.

Blessed Beyond Belief

May 24, 2015

How would it be possible to be more thankful than I am tonight? I had the privilege of preaching the Good News that no matter what the future has in store, with Jesus Christ we can face it confidently because he who loved us enough to die for us has promised to never leave or forsake us. Then a beautiful bike ride home (the ride to Frewsburg at 8 am was a bit chilly) to family dinner followed by a rousing baseball game in the side yard. We only had to fish the ball out of the creek three or four times! How many families get to do this kind of stuff together?

I had to unload the old Gravely off the truck so Linda could get a load of horse manure for the garden, and as long as it was back on the ground, I decided to give it one more shot at tilling. It still needed a little mechanical tinkering, so I tore into it, then at 5:15 it was on to SOTA (School of the Arts), where I taught bass to Abi, John, and Harley, in preparation for the youth leading worship next week. Home again, and back to the garden where I fired up the Gravely, and the rotary plow actually turned! This particular machine was the old 1948 model given me by Rich Thies. I gave it to Steve Carlson when we moved back to Sinclairville, since I didn't have a place to store it. It ran like a champ, but smoked so badly that at one point I looked down the lawn behind the house and actually thought someone had started a tire fire down the road. Over the entire back yard (all 2 1/2 acres of it) hung a blue pall. Two birds with one stone: till the garden and fog for mosquitoes!

The evening ended as Linda and I watched the annual National Memorial Day concert in Washington, DC, where tribute was given to the soldiers who have given so much for our freedoms. It was as always, a moving experience. Tomorrow will bring parades and services, followed by picnics and celebrations. May we not lose sight of the real reason for the day, honoring our veterans whose service has secured, and continues to secure our freedoms as Americans. Many live every day with pain and challenges I cannot imagine. Am I thankful tonight? You bet I am!