Going Home

June 7, 2020

When the sun is shining and the thermometer reads 60 or above, it’s time to ditch four wheels for three. Riding to church this morning was glorious! Backroads at 45 mph are just the ticket; I can enjoy the scenery, smell the fragrance of the locusts in full bloom, notice little things that are missed at 55 or more. People outside working waved cheerful greetings as I drove by, no face masks required. If there were no media to fan the flames of discontent, it would be possible to believe the old saying, “God is in his heaven; all is right with the world.” The first part is true, the second sadly, is not.

Cities lie smoldering, police are under siege by mobs, media, and politicians, and trust in the societal contract that binds us together as a nation has been shattered. Just this weekend in Chicago, 92 people were shot, 27 fatally, none by the police. In Buffalo, after two officers were arrested for pushing a professional agitator who had been asked by other protesters to leave, cops resigned en masse from the special unit designed to handle protests and riots. All across the country, we are seeing similar events playing out, and we wonder how it will all end up.

Meanwhile, I ride on, soaking up the sunshine, drinking deeply from the well of beauty all around me, knowing countless others annoy escape their surroundings which are anything but peaceful. It’s tempting to feel guilty about the blessings that I enjoy which so many others never have the opportunity to experience until I remember the words of my Cuban friend Willie Santiago. Years ago when we first learned of his work in Cuba, he would tell us, “Don’t feel guilty about your blessings. Thank God for them, and enjoy them.” This, coming from someone who experienced deprivation and persecution such as we had never known. There was no shaming, no guilt-mongering, just the exhortation to give thanks.

For the first time in three months, at the end of my ride I had the privilege of leading worship in person, face to face with my brothers and sisters in Dunkirk. It is hard to put into words what it meant to me to see each one, to look them in the eyes, to serve them communion. I am grateful for the technology that enabled us to stay somewhat connected and to worship online, but online pales in comparison to the real thing. It is impossible to be fully Christian by yourself. We need one another, and for the first time in months, it felt like I was finally home again. The text for today’s sermon expresses what I feel today:

“When the LORD brought back the captivity of Zion, 

We were like those who dream. 

Then our mouth was filled with laughter, 

And our tongue with singing.” —Psalm 126:1-2 NKJV

I sang today as I have not sung since before Easter, and it was wonderful!

50

June 6, 2020

7:20 pm. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Fifty years ago. By 10:30, on our way to our home, we had our first meal together as a married couple. The only thing open between Frewsburg and Alma was a hot dog stand in Allegany. It was only 6:00, but there wasn’t much more open today. We did a little better than hot dogs, but it wouldn’t have mattered if our golden anniversary were celebrated with Johnny’s or AJ’s. It’s the together that made the day, just as it has for fifty years. 

We have just passed a milestone, one of many and of many to come. It’s not the years that are important, but the life we have poured into them; laughter and tears, sweat and rest, love and commitment. Tomorrow we begin the next leg of the journey as we began the last, in worship and thanksgiving for the great gift of God’s Son and the life we’ve found together in him. It’s been good...very good, but the best is yet to come.

Rio Lobo

June 5, 2020

As a rule, I don’t watch movies a second time. What’s the point? I already know how it’s going to turn out, and unless it is really compelling, once is enough. Tonight, I may make an exception. 

Most of the time, were you to ask me what I was doing on a particular date, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. The melodramatic courtroom scene where the prosecutor asks, “Where were you on the night of May 21st?” would have me completely stumped. I might as well say, “Lock me up; I have no alibi.” I have a hard time telling you what I did yesterday, let alone a week or a month ago. 

But I can tell you exactly where I was and what I was doing this evening fifty years ago. I was stretched out on the living room floor of my soon-to-be brother and sister in law, watching John Wayne and Dean Martin in the Western “Rio Lobo.” It was a typical John Wayne movie; lots of bravado, shooting, and the good guys winning in the end. It even had a cowboy song sung by Dean Martin himself. 

The reason I know all this is because the next day, I was getting married. The rehearsal was over, and now it was just waiting it out. The movie was nothing; the wedding was something; the marriage is everything. Maybe I’ll watch it again tonight, this time with Linda by my side instead of my best friend Tom Walker. I doubt that she will enjoy it as much as we did, but who knows? After fifty years, I’m still learning things about her. It would be something if after all this time, I find out she’s a secret admirer of John Wayne.

Sun and Shade

June 4, 2020

It’s hard to believe that just last month the cold and snow had us huddled by the fire in our back room. We got our April weather in May this year, and sitting on the patio in the evening was out of the question. Tonight, it was glorious, a far cry from the urban unrest plaguing our cities.

It was so warm this morning that I took my Bible, iPad, and notes out on the deck overlooking the creek. Twin trees, an ash and maple, rise overhead about forty feet, giving the shade I needed as refuge from the sun baking down on the patio as I finished up Sunday’s sermon. It felt good to be writing again, preparing to preach. It’s been a long time and I’m ready to go. 

Our Dunkirk congregation has endured some pretty hard knocks over the past few years, dwindling to a handful of faithful and sturdy folks who know a thing or two about endurance. In a strange twist of Providence, our small numbers is now working to our advantage. We could max out and still have plenty of room for social distancing in that huge sanctuary, so that’s what we’re going to do. It will be good to see everyone again, masks and all. The other day, as I was coming out of Home Depot, I bumped into one of our members. I had removed my mask as I walked out the door, but Janine had hers on as she entered. I knew it was her by her eyes even before she greeted me. She has kind eyes, revealing the soul behind them. A mask can’t hide a genuine smile. I’m looking forward to seeing lots of them Sunday. In the meantime, I am thankful for today’s sun and sermon in this little corner of the world.

A Break in the Action

June 3, 2020

COVID-19 has been on everyone’s mind for the past three months, only to be eclipsed by the needless and abhorrent death of George Floyd and the resulting rioting that is sweeping across our country. It’s enough to put us into emotional overload, so I thought it would be good tonight to shift gears for awhile and reflect on other matters.

Yesterday evening, family members gathered at Linda’s sister’s home to sing Happy Birthday to her. I won’t disclose her age, other than to say she has entered a new decade. We hung around afterward, talking.  More than thirty years of history with her and her husband Dennis, added to the peacefulness of the woods, made for a soul-refreshing hour of conversation and fellowship. The two of them live pretty much off the grid, with no electricity. Their lamps are propane, they heat with wood, their water is from a spring fed hydraulic ram, as they live in the log house Dennis built more than 25 years ago. Whenever I need a break from the craziness and pace of modern life, I head to the woods, a cup of coffee, and a sit-down with them.

For the first time in nearly three months, our Wednesday pastor’s prayer group met face to face. Zoom meetings are OK, but there is a dynamic present when we’re together that cannot be replicated through media. In his trilogy on the Powers, Walter Wink discusses the language of power in the New Testament. His premise is that human experience hasn’t changed much in millennia; we have technology, think we are more sophisticated, but human beings still love, hate, grieve, and ponder the mysteries of life and death as they have done since before the beginning of recorded time. Then he asks the question, “What did First Century people experience that caused them to speak of angels and demons, of as St. Paul put it, “principalities, powers, rulers of darkness in heavenly places? And what language do we use to describe those same experiences?” The experiences are the same; the language is different. We describe these events in political, social, psychological, or educational language, where they used religious language. 

We still use the old language occasionally. We speak of “corporate spirit,” or referencing recent events, “mob spirit” or “mob mentality.” Wink states that such things as mob spirit are real; when the mob disperses, so does the spirit that moved it to action. The same people meeting via Zoom would never have caused the destruction that resulted from their being together physically. If that is true for mobs of young people looting and burning businesses, why should it be any less true in a positive sense when God’s people gather together? The Spirit of God and the Presence of Jesus Christ is palpable when we are actually together in a way that is not possible when we are apart and seeing each other only through a screen. Being together this morning was like streams in the desert, and I drank deeply in the real presence of Christ.

Today I fired up my backhoe and dug the hole to plant my new apple tree. I’ve been working on the digger for the past month, getting a broken bracket welded, then having to buy a new float for the carburetor, and fiddle and adjust, fiddle and adjust. It’s not running perfectly, but I got the hole dug and the tree planted before bumping it with the hoe and breaking the top off it. I bound it together and hope it’ll survive, but I’m living proof that a college education doesn’t make you any smarter in the practical matters of life. Nevertheless, I am thankful tonight for a wife who only snickered a little when I told her of my misfortune. At almost fifty years together, I guess she’s still a keeper.

Preaching

June 2, 2020

It’s been a long time coming and I’m getting itchy. Since last September, I’ve been on a preaching rotation that got me into the pulpit for two Sundays every six weeks. We had barely gotten started when COVID broke out, cancelling Easter, one of the Sundays I was scheduled for. We just passed Pentecost, and I’m on tap for Sunday, June 7, the day after our 50th wedding anniversary. It’s not like we’re going anywhere, so preaching it is!

I was wondering what it would be like, what my topic would be, how I would get back into the swing of things. Sermon preparation is different than devotional reading, and I missed it. For the past week or so, I’ve been getting back in the groove, and I’m getting excited...and nervous. I never take it lightly. Handling the Word of Life is no laughing matter, and no small responsibility. Every time I stepped into the pulpit for the past fifty years, I felt the weight of it. Proclaiming the Good News of Jesus Christ is much more than merely preparing a lecture. I am not the originator of the Message; merely the conduit. But if I fail to communicate clearly and accurately what God is saying and doing, people will miss out on grace and salvation. It is even possible to lead people astray, proclaiming a gospel that is skewed. Such a word may be powerful, but it cannot save.

“Lift High the Cross,” says one of our Methodist hymns. To do otherwise is to pervert the Message. Jesus said, “If I be lifted up, I’ll draw all men to me.” All I have to do is lift him up. Platitudes cannot do that. Good advice cannot do that. People can get good advice anywhere. The only place they can get Good News is at the foot of the Cross. THAT is the message; THAT is what excites me tonight; THAT is what I intend to proclaim Sunday.

Blessedness

June 1, 2020

“Blessed is the man 

Who walks not in the counsel of the ungodly, 

Nor stands in the path of sinners, 

Nor sits in the seat of the scornful; 

But his delight is in the law of the LORD, 

And in His law he meditates day and night. 

He shall be like a tree Planted by the rivers of water, 

That brings forth its fruit in its season, 

Whose leaf also shall not wither; 

And whatever he does shall prosper.”

—Psalm 1:1-3 NKJV

It is amazing the number of people who are glued to their televisions and computers during this pandemic. Listening to the news, one would think nothing else in the world is happening, and being stuck at home, people are listening to the news 24/7, either broadcast or online, and almost all of it is fear mongering. If we fail to wear masks or social distance we could be responsible for someone getting sick and dying. If we open businesses too soon, or if schools open in the fall, we could be in for a second wave, worse than the first. It’s no wonder people are nervous and uneasy. Add in the recent death of Mr. Floyd and the protests and ensuing violence, and it’s no wonder people are worried and fearful. 

When watching the news is the first thing we do in the morning and the last thing we do at night, we are doing the very thing this very first psalm tells us not to do. We are walking in the counsel of the ungodly, standing in the path of sinners, and sitting in the seat of the scornful. Note the progression: walking, standing, sitting. The more we tune in to this stuff, the more comfortable we get with it. There is no blessing in such behavior. We may pat ourselves on the back for not actually being on the streets throwing bricks at store windows, setting fire to buildings, or looting, but when it comes to having a healthy soul, vicariously participating in such things is just as damaging as if we were there in person. What we take in affects us, which is why we are told instead to delight in and meditate on the law of God. 

Sending down roots into the old news of this world is like trying to grow in a desert. Planting ourselves in the Garden of God’s Word is the only way to blossom and bear fruit that nourishes the soul. We become like whatever we worship, whatever we set our attention upon:

“The idols of the nations are silver and gold, 

The work of men’s hands. 

They have mouths, but they do not speak; 

Eyes they have, but they do not see; They have ears, but they do not hear; 

Nor is there any breath in their mouths. 

Those who make them are like them; So is everyone who trusts in them.”

—Psalm 135:15-18 NKJV

Notice the last sentence. If I set my attention upon the things of this world, I will become as jaded, worried, and hopeless as those we are watching. Only when I focus on God my Savior do I find hope and rest. Only then does my spirit flourish.