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Lectionary Passages for week of August 12  – 18, 2019

Isaiah 5:1-7   •   Psalm 80:1-19 & 82   •   Jeremiah 23:23-29   •   Hebrews 11:29-12:2   •   Luke 12:49-56

Backstory for worship passages for Sunday, August 18, 2019

Two Prophets (Isaiah 5:1-7 and Jeremiah 23:23-29)

Isaiah compared the leaders, and people, of Judah and Jerusalem to the leaders of Sodom and Gomorrah – they had turned from God. They pretended a ‘holiness facade’ with their religious practices and rituals, along with ‘holy sounding’ deceptive religious talk, in an attempt to cover up their rebellion against God.  Isaiah prophesied about two centuries before the conquer of the Judah.  The unpleasant message of Isaiah was to call the people out of their faith numbness and wickedness – to return to God.  In this Sunday’s passage, Isaiah, speaking on behalf of God, shares a ‘love note’ to the people. It is an honest and brutal message in which he reminds the people of all that God has lovingly given to them. It is a blunt note to inform them that God has set them up for success yet they have turned their backs on his gifts placing themselves at risk.

While most of Isaiah’s message was to call the people back to God, the majority of Jeremiah’s message, a century later, was to prepare the people for God’s coming correction.  Jeremiah’s negative sounding confrontational words became increasingly repugnant to the leaders and people. He was hated – they did not want to hear his message.  They began accepting the words coming from the false prophets.  These individuals would say what the leaders and people wanted to hear.  Words of prosperity and riches, words of affirmation and approval. Words of false and deceptive hope.  While God was calling out these false prophets, he was also confronting the people who were eager and quick to accept these pleasant lies.

The Savior (Luke 12:49-46)

The words of Jesus, in Sunday’s passage, are surprisingly blunt and fierce.  Most would describe his words (and also the words of Jeremiah and Isaiah) as apoplectic – indignant, fierce, and full of rage.  Desperate words because Jesus is acting as a passionate father desiring that his children see the truth sooner rather than later.  The cross and end of the physical life of Jesus was fast approaching and he was fully aware of the time crunch; he was preparing the followers for life after the ascension.   Like the words of the prophets, Jesus words, come from a place of love and hope for his followers.

A Reminder of Faith (Hebrews 11:29-12:2)

In our responsive reading this Sunday we are reminded of the faith of our ancestors. The variety of individuals who held on to their faith even when they did not see any hope or rescue.  These faithful individuals stand as a testimony of God’s faithfulness; they serve as witness for us to God’s love and mercy.

Our Call to the Marathon

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bostonrunner2On Tuesday morning of this week, at 12:18 am, Mary Shertenlieb finished the Boston Marathon over thirteen hours after she began.  Mary had been diagnosed with an aggressive form of leukemia five years before and had endured intense treatment suffering two relapses.  Around mile fifteen of the marathon, health concerns required that she return home with her husband.  There, she recouped, took a shower and returned to the marathon to finish miles later. At the finish line on Boston’s Boylston Street stood fans cheering for this, the final runner of the marathon, who had shown them how to run and how to finish.  It was not the way she imagined the marathon to go, or even the day she expected to finish, but she did run and she did finish.

A Marathon for the Kids

As I dropped Andrea off at school on Monday, it was weird.  She was back after two weeks away due to the teacher walk out.  She was ready to be back with, and for, her kids but with a new disillusioned attitude and no remaining hints of political naivety.

teacher walkout 2It was easy for Andrea, and her professional peers, to feel like the previous weeks had been a complete waste.  Ten days gathering in the sun, standing in the Capitol and sitting in legislators’ offices often being treated disrespectfully and unimportant.  They stood on the Capitol grounds as our governor seemed to find every reason to be elsewhere and the Secretary of Education managed to belittle and diminish the entire effort from the isolation of her D.C. office.

It had also been a hopeful ten days, teachers bonding, receiving unforgettable support from parents and our communities, even witnessing an amazing outpouring of encouragement from outside of the state.

Then it seemed to be over; over with basically no progress to be seen.

pablo (57)The teachers had received a pay raise prior to the walkout but felt they could not settle on a note, even though warranted, of self interest.  They stayed out of the classrooms because they knew that their students deserved better. They deserved to have enough educated and certified teachers – not classes of thirty-four kids packed in an inadequately sized room; they deserved a space where there were enough chairs and desks and to not have to sit in folding chairs borrowed from a local church; they deserved up-to-date textbooks and basic supplies not purchased from their teacher’s limited personal income.  They deserved so much more.

Decades ago, Oklahoma decided that public education was not important.  Evangelicals talked about God being ‘taken out of the schools’ while, at the same time, the very hard working and caring teachers hid in the pews praying, and hurting, for their students.  Politicians realized that reducing taxes was a reelection coup and that the ‘unGodly’ schools were an easy target of budgetary reduction.  ProLife became the holy label while the birthed children, along with their education, healthcare, mental health, shelter and food, carelessly became the casualty.

The truth was, and is, that God remained in the schools because the most vulnerable of those created in his image had been abandoned.  Abandoned by those tasked with being a light to the world.

On Monday, as their one success, their raises, was being targeted, the teachers returned to the classrooms anyway.  They returned to prepare their students for required exams and to the very real future that is tough, if not impossible, without adequate knowledge.  A truth that even Christ himself addressed. The teachers returned thinking that they had failed those very students.

They had not failed.

Author Anne Lamott writes that Change is not a sprint but a marathon. Our teachers began a marathon. They, battered and abused, passed the baton on to others so that they could get back to their beloved kids.

On the Sunday in the middle of the walkout I shared with my congregation that I had truly experienced the presence of the Holy Spirit while on the capitol grounds the previous week.  Even though we doubtfully feel it, it is still there and all over the state.  The Spirit is in classrooms, it is in the homes, it will be with the voters prompting them in the upcoming elections.  The Spirit will be everywhere that children are clamoring to climb up on the lap of Jesus. Everywhere that Jesus is saying, “let the little children come unto me!”

The Spirit will continue to be in our state.  In our churches, in our homes, and in our classrooms. Anywhere we are willing to accept, listen and follow, the Spirit will be there.

It’s not over, it is a marathon.  We still have a ways to go.

My Marathon Experience

child backpackAlmost twenty years ago I dropped my oldest child off at Monroe Elementary for a typical day of first grade. I did not know that day would set me off on a marathon.  As he shut the door of the van, I could not help but notice, as my tiny first grader ran in, there were may unrecognized adults exiting the doors of the school.  He had to squeeze through them to get to the building and to his classroom. 

I soon saw the “Vote Here” signs which brought clarity. Our school was a polling station and that these unknown adults were wandering throughout the school after having voted.  While I loved the idea of my kids witnessing democracy in action, I also knew that we live in a world which is not always so idealistic and sometimes very bad persons take advantage of very positive idealistic situations.

This unexpected morning experience set me on personal marathon that would take twenty years. I spoke to the principal about this influx of unknown adults venturing throughout the building, she sent me to the School Administration who sent me to the County Election Board.  The Election Board sent me on a mission to find a better place for the voting.  I ended up at a Mormon Church who agreed to host the voting.  I victoriously returned to the Election Board who informed me that this would be an unacceptable location since the election workers could not drink coffee or smoke at the church building. Not yet willing to give up I went to the election workers who unanimously agreed to abstain from any forbidden vices for voting days.  A return visit to the Election Board led to the revelation that my solution was an unacceptable and would not be implemented.  My final journey was to my mailbox where I found a letter from the Election Board telling me to leave them alone.

I had failed. I quit the marathon. Kind of….

As a result of my efforts, the principal asked me to begin a program for dads at our school called WatchDogs. It was the first WatchDog program in the city and the state. An amazing group of dads in our school took a day off of work each month to patrol the halls and help where needed. Dads that had never regularly been in the school before were now integral parts of the day to day operations.  Their children were proud to have them there and the dads were engaging with their own children in a manner they had never done before. Dads provided security, but more importantly became acquainted with the peers of their children, the teachers and staff of the school, and found that they could be a part of this all important essential element of their community.  The program is now all over our city and state.

Sometimes our marathon take us to places, and makes things happen, that were never in our planned running route.

I also continued my call for more school security and a plethora of areas of concerns.  One of these areas was to campaign to have the school playground off limits during school hours.  It alarmed me to watch as complete strangers were permitted to walk across the campus, through the middle of children, during recess.  I was told that the school was not allowed to restrict such access to members of the community.

Voter IDA couple of months ago, twenty years after I began my marathon, I received a new voter ID card, it was for a new location.  Our public schools have reconfigured all buildings for increased security and voting does not fit into the increased security plan.School sign

On an evening walk, I then cut through the playground of Monroe Elementary.  There I saw a sign that restricted access to the playground during school hours.  I took a picture, stood and stared, and realized that I had crossed a finish line.

As I thought about all it took to get that sign I began to think of all the others who were part of my marathon, a list that included my own mother.  I attended this same elementary school and would pablo (55) walk to school each day.  One year, homeowners of a house on a busy street which was part of my walk, planted new grass and restricted pedestrians from walking on their lawn. This meant children like me, on our way to school, would be walking on the heavily traveled street.  My mom, possibly the original safety marathon runner, went and had a very frustrating talk with the homeowners.  They refused to budge on their restrictions and she refused to quit the marathon. She called the city and did anything else that might lead to an acceptable solution.  Facing defeat at every turn, she revisited the owners of the house several times, who eventually worked with my mom to come up with a safe solution.  She raised her arms in victory and ran under the finish banner and then passed the baton on to someone else which eventually came to me.

marathonA Call to the Marathon

Teachers, your time has not been wasted.  You have run the toughest part of the marathon.  Raise your arms out to pass on the baton.  Pass it to the parents who are now at the capitol, to the voters who will soon cast their ballots for change, to all the other Oklahomans who care about the children, and to those who echo the words of Christ as he said, “Let them come to me!”

It is not about quitting but rather about enlarging the marathon, including others to run with the baton.

To the rest of us, look for the marathon that God has waiting for you. I can’t say what your marathon will be but I can say that it will be about God’s created and His creation. It will be about those created in His image which widens the possibilities to everyone everywhere. It will be about being a demonstration of the actions and life of Christ much more than the words of a preacher.  It will be about love.

Our marathon is what John talks about as Walking in the Light and then later in I John refers to it as Abiding.  The Apostle Paul call it a race.  It is about life, led to reveal God’s love and to live smack dab in the middle of the life Christ has called us to.

It’s a life long marathon.

Let’s run.

Rick

Transitions are Tough

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hungry birdsOver the past few months we have had the honor of witnessing the birth of several birds in nests scattered outside our house.  

About two weeks ago, there was an even greater thrill as we happened to be watching as three little birds prepared to leave the nest outside our bedroom window.  We realized this was taking place as they began to take turns flapping their wings while jumping around the nest.  

Then it got interesting. The largest of three walked to the edge and stood there.  Teasing us with many “will he fly off now?” moments.  Finally, he took the leap, and it was truly a leap, straight to the ground with a thud.  The remaining two birds, a bit more hesitant, followed the example, and seemed to have the same failure as their larger sibling.  From what we could see, none of the three succeeded in the art of flight, they all just fell to the hard earth. We were certain that this was the end, they had all failed flying and we would soon be in the bird burial business.

Even in the surety of their failure, we continued to watch, often having to run to windows in different bedrooms.  We saw the squirrels coming closer as if they had been waiting for this moment.  We also knew that there were other, more aggressive and larger, birds witnessing this embarrassment, or, should I say, opportunity, unfolding.

We, in our infinite wisdom, were sure that these little birds we had become intimately attached to, had not been ready to attempt flying and had met their doom.

As we continued to watch, however, we noticed their mom and dad.  Neither was grieving or blaming the other.  Instead, Dad was watching from the highest branch on a bush near the back fence, while mom was standing on the ground, strategically positioned between dad and the babies.  As she stood there you could see her aggressive stance ready to attack the other opportunistic creatures.  One at a time, mom escorted the tiny poor fliers to the bush by our back fence, their new home, where dad received and congratulated each one with the bird equivalent of a high five.  It was not long before all three ‘not yet ready for flight’ birds were back with mom and dad and ready to continue their journey and their training….only now with more privacy, at least from the nosey Anthony family.

I have to be honest however, for the four humans watching, it was a pretty scary process. We gave up hope many times.

Later, as I thought through the experience, I remembered I had been awakened that morning to a very busy, and noisy, mom and dad.  While I had grown accustom to the parents feeding the birds early each morning, this morning, the morning of the kids’ first attempt at flight, mom and dad seemed to be executing the feeding process with a special and intense urgency. The children were receiving an extra portion of breakfast with a veracity that, as to yet, had been unseen. Don’t be fooled, they had always enjoyed feeding time but nothing matching the intensity of this day.  Mom and Dad knew the kids were going to need even more strength and power than ever before.  The kids, for their part, were taking advantage of this preparatory process for an adventure that was far greater, and riskier, than anything the nest had ever offered over the course of their entire lives.

The preparation before, during, and even after, was calculated and amazingly exhausting and emotionally draining.  At least it was to us humans, we were exhausted and spent even after having only experienced it from the spectator seats.  As the five birds disappeared into the bush, we four humans headed to the kitchen to feed ourselves and to prepare for the semi-calculated and amazingly exhausting and emotionally draining adventure of our average day that lay ahead.

I cannot claim to have any real empathy with a mom and dad watching their children take a necessary and deadly leap in order to move ahead in life. 

I can, however, say I watched my oldest child walk up the ramp to enter pre-K at Monroe elementary in August of 1998 and then, not too much later in the day, driving by the school to assure myself that he was not standing in the middle of the busy street (my wife later admitted to having done the same thing).  I actually remember watching, and hating, the transition, as each of my five kids walked the same ramp over the next five years, and driving by later just to make sure they, too, were not standing in the middle of the street.

Then, this year I watched as that same son walked another ramp to receive his college diploma followed by a drive to Stillwater later in the week to enroll my fourth child in her first year of college.  This means that we will be driving her to live in a place that is not our house in less than two months.  In the meantime, we have taken our third child to the airport to fly away to a summer volunteering experience in Hawaii as number two headed to Colorado for her summer job.  Finally,  I have listened each day as our youngest has gotten himself out of bed very early each morning for cross country practice and lawn mowing.

I lay in bed wandering when we transitioned to a time when he no longer needed me to wake him up and take him to practice or work.  I lay in bed wandering when he, our fifth little bird, approached the edge of the nest.

Maybe I do have a little bit of empathy for my dear mom and dad red bird friends that lived for a short time outside my bedroom window.

Paying Attention,

Rick

totalled Toyota VanOh… and we had to say goodbye to our Toyota van on May 4th due to the fact that we were rear ended by a school bus as I was driving Andrea to school (the irony has not gone unnoticed).  Goodbye to the van that each of our children learned to drive in and where almost 300,000 miles of memories took place.  It was tough to see it driven away on the tow truck.


Transitions are tough.

What Do You Have?

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oilShe was frustrated and somewhat angry, she was miserable and hopeless, she was at the end of her rope and there, in front of her, was her dead husband’s former boss.  She approached him and said, “My husband gave his all for you, he was your servant, and now he is gone. And, in return for his faithfulness to you, his widow and children, are now penniless and sliding deeper into a pit of despair.”


The boss queried, “What do you need?”

This was an easy yet difficult answer for the woman.  It was easy because the needs were all she had thought about since the loss of her husband.  The question was difficult because she was not sure where to begin.  It didn’t take long, however, for her to respond, “I’m about to lose my children.”

The boss followed with another question, “What do you have?”

This was also an easy yet difficult answer.  Easy because she didn’t have much, difficult because what she did have seemed insignificant and not worthy of being mentioned.

It was also difficult because relinquishing the little that she did have, regardless of how insignificant, was scary.

This is the story of Elisha and the widow documented in II Kings 4.  It is a story of the wife of a servant of Elisha following the death of her husband.  She was being hounded by creditors who were now about to take her children and sell them into slavery.

It is the story of each of us.

The widow was desperate.  She was hopeless.  She was mad.

Just like us.

When Elisha asked “What do you have?”, she replied “nothing, except a jar of oil”.

Oil was a forgettable possession since it seemed so meaningless.  At the same time, it was an essential possession, as was seen in the story of Elijah and a diffent widow. 

It was also forgettable, at least verbally, because giving over control of the only thing we think we have is difficult.  It is our basic humanity to hold on to it with all our might, not trusting anyone to take it away.  It was, and is, difficult because trusting often means things will not go as we hoped or planned.  It means we will give up control.

Ultimately, she handed over the oil.  In return, Elisha pointed out that she had so much more.  She had her children, she had other vessels and she had neighbors who also had vessels. In the end she saved her children, gave the neighbors back their vessels, and gained a security that permitted her to live, work, and survive.

All because she realized what she had and trusted it to one who could meet her need.

What do you have?

Next Door Blessings

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lizard 2Around dusk, I ventured up the street to our neighbor’s house.  They are on vacation and we have been taking care of their lizard, fish, plants, mail, and newspapers.   We go up twice a day to feed the fish, water, collect newspapers and mail, and turn on/off the lizard’s lamp.  The lizard still has crickets hopping around so there is no need to feed him (or her, we don’t know) until he cleans his seven-day-old plate.  We love these neighbors.  I have known the husband since seventh-grade, but have really only had consistent interaction with him over the course of our decade in the neighborhood.  The recent interaction has made me wish I had branched out from my own group of friends in high school.  We love the way they live, the way they raise their kids, the way they have integrated their two different faiths, and the way they make you feel very important with every engagement.

Across the street from them is a retired couple who are also wonderful. They are Jewish.  The husband grew up as the son of a Rabbi.  There is a reason I mention their faith. It is Christmas Cookiepertinent and not just my attempt to convince you that I am open-minded.  In all of my adult years, they are the only neighbors who have ever brought us homemade – and decorated – Christmas cookies.  They frequently ask me about our church and our kids.  They are genuinely interested.

Across the street from us are recent transplants from Britain. They are very kind and respectful and join us in our skepticism of the local television weatherpersons when it comes tornado season.  They take refuge in our tornado shelter and, together, we attempt to estimate which of the broadcasters’ rants need to be taken seriously.  They are very smart. He is a physics professor at the local university. Regardless of actual intellect, however, all they have to do is begin speaking with their British accents and we automatically give them credit for great wisdom and discernment. It is like having sat in the living room with soccer goalMaggie Smith at Highclere Castle wondering for weeks afterwards if you were insulted or complimented.

On one side of our house, we have a neighbor with a huge soccer goal cemented in the front yard.  When we initially moved into our house, they invited our soccer-playing children over to use the net anytime.  I have always appreciated the eye-catching net for use as a landmark when giving directions to our house.  I don’t think the previous owner of our house liked the net, or these neighbors.  She repeatedly called the police when they attempted to cut the limbs from her old and gigantic tree which were resting on their vehicles.  The police would inform her that the neighbors were permitted to cut the limbs which were stretching over their property, but she continued to call and complain anyway.  During the first year living in our home, a devastating ice storm toppled that entire tree, causing a section of the trunk to fall and strategically land on three of their cars.  No insurance lawncovered the damage – ours nor theirs.  They never complained to us and have always been beyond gracious.

On our other side is a retired widow who has taught us the meaning of tenacity and determination.  She is always there to express concern and offer help.  She has admitted that one of her chief goals in life is to make me look bad, her strategy is to spend every day either re-mowing or perfecting her already perfect lawn.  Andrea, and the kids, often ask, “Why can’t our lawn look like that?” as we pull into our garage.  When the other trunk of our tree fell onto our roof, this neighbor climbed the ladder to our steep, and icy, roof to help me place a tarp over the holes caused by the fallen tree.

We are very blessed.

I often fail to recognize and appreciate the blessings we have on our street.  I often fail to look around and pay attention.  I often neglect to fathom these and so many other next door blessings.  I often let every nature of meaningless and trivial distractions keep me from seeing what is right in front of my eyes.

I am determined to pay better attention, I’m determined to see those blessings right next door….beginning today.

Paying Attention,

Rick

Amazed and Terrified

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So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement 

had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

Mark 16:8

On the day following the Sabbath which followed the crucifixion, the first day they could truly venture out, a group of the followers of Christ traveled to the gravesite.

Mary was the first one to arrive and she quickly made a U-turn traveling back to the tell the male disciples that the body of Christ was gone.  It was not at the grave, there was no real evidence of malicious foul play, the body was just…gone.

The male disciples ran to the grave and discovered Mary was correct, the body was gone.  They stood in consternation with wrinkled brows and then they left, the males went back home, they headed back to their safe place.  They didn’t say much on their way home, or even when they arrived, for they were terrified and afraid.  They didn’t talk about it at all, they were uncharacteristically silent.

Why they were afraid is a matter of speculation.  It would have been a valid human emotion to be afraid for their own safety, afterall, they were now the hunted.  Another possibility may have been an assumption that the body had been removed via a plan cooked up by the religious leadership, or government. I think, however, they left because they had seen what they came to see.  They went to the grave to verify, as Mary had said, that the body was missing, so, when they did not see the body, they went home.

They went straight home, they didn’t stop for breakfast or even for a early morning cup of coffee.  They went home afraid and amazed.  They couldn’t explain the bodiless grave. They felt the rush of excitement mixed with an equal amount of fear. They were terrified, yet there was a sudden inexplicable hint of hope.  Hope had been a scarce commodity over the previous week and here it was teasing them.

This human emotive response of the fear and hope combination has been the unofficial tagline for the leadership of Grace Fellowship recently.  We have just come through a couple of years of bad news — times when hope was in scarce supply.  We haven’t understood all which has taken place but we have hung on, sometimes hopeless and sometimes just plain concerned and terrified.

Now, we have begun to see that God was working when we thought we were just looking at a bodiless grave.  Alongside the blessing of sight and understanding, we are now seeing the way God is inviting us into his plan.  It is a blessing that usually seems overwhelming and often presents as very risky.  It is a blessing that places us in a vulnerable position.  It is a blessing that none of us want to miss.

This past April we paid off our building and property mortgage.  Before we were even able to celebrate this milestone, God led us to lease the building to a wonderful church in our community. Now there are two churches taking an amazing and yet terrifying and hugely vulnerable step. God then led us to lease a downtown meeting hall for Sunday worship gatherings as well as to rent a small office space.  On August 7, we will begin meeting in this new space where, each week, we will set up and tear down every Sunday.

There are a multitude of details which I never imagined would be a factor when we first began this phase of our journey. I have received an education about portable sound systems, worked with our children’s teachers to adjust to small and fewer spaces, discussed and decided on a logo and web page, and found myself immersed in contracts, insurance, as well as possibilities and hope.

Along the way, I have seen God’s miraculous provisions and directions.  I have witnessed my family dig in and do all they could think to do, a team of church leaders who have gone above and beyond in every way imaginable, a church who has willingly adapted to the idea of relinquishing the comforts of a building and place and, instead, walked into the amusement park and onto the roller coaster knowing that the ride is going to be incredible. I now have new people in my life who I did not know three months ago but have already proven themselves valuable beyond measure.

Back at the empty grave, following the exit of the male followers of Christ, Mary stood there.  She did not come to the grave to see a missing body — she came to see Jesus. She was not leaving until she saw him.  So, she stood there…..and stayed there.  That was her purpose, that was her mission. While Mary stood there, she met some angels who told her that Jesus was not there – a fact she had already ascertained.  She talked to the gardener, whom she did not recognize, but who soon made it clear that he knew Mary.

She saw Jesus.

Times of terror and amazement are the exact perfect times to stick around and look for Jesus.  He may be hidden in the insurmountable and overwhelming pile of details and tasks. He may even be invisible due to the sea of grief and disappointment which has us panicked paddling just to keep our head above water. It is at those times, however, that Jesus is standing right next to us wearing a gardener’s hat, ready to reveal himself, and his plan, to his followers who are ready to listen.

Amazed and Terrified yet still paying attention,

Rick

Sticking Around

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On the morning after the Sabbath, Mary Magdalene headed to the grave to anoint the body of Jesus.  She could not get there quick enough; she was beyond grateful for the impact He had made on her life.  He delivered her from demons and the extensive mental and emotional baggage accompanying such a traumatic experience.  He brought peace to a life that had been consistently and constantly at war.  He restored joy and hope, and brought the stability to face the struggles and demons that life would throw at her.  Jesus had delivered Mary, and she was beyond grateful. She was committed.

She arrived at the tomb determined to see Jesus and was shocked to find nothing.  The tomb was empty.

While the disciples witnessed the empty grave and headed home, Mary stuck around.  She was not leaving until she saw Jesus.  She kept looking.  Even though the men had left after seeing all they needed to see, or not see, she stuck around.  Peter and John saw that the grave was empty and therefore they believed that the grave was empty.  That was all they thought there was to see and to believe.  The left satisfied, and somewhat amazed, even though they saw nothing.  Mary needed to see something; Mary had a purpose, a mission.  She needed to see Jesus.  Mary stuck around.

Although he did not realize this truth, John needed to see Jesus.  Jesus had become his closest friend.  Peter was also unaware of his need to see Jesus.  He desperately needed to experience release and forgiveness for the guilt and shame of his triple denial of Christ.  However, both of these men were satisfied with seeing nothing.  They went home.

Not Mary, she was sticking around.

She remained at the tomb.

Even though Mary had also seen nothing, and all hope seemed to be gone, she stuck around.

Eventually Mary saw two angels.  Then she saw Jesus. She didn’t recognize him until he said her name, then she saw what she came to see.  She knew that voice due to the fact that she had been a constant seeker of that voice.  She had experienced the full scope of what it meant to depend upon and know Jesus.  She knew that this was Jesus.  She grabbed hold of him and was not about to let go.

She was sticking around.

Later, when the men finally saw Jesus, He told them to stick around.  To wait until God sent their needed helper, the Holy Spirit.

This time they stuck around.

Paying Attention,

Rick

Canceling Church

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trees in snow landscapeI did something yesterday that I would have scoffed at half a decade ago.  I cancelled church.  I sent out the email….

canstockphoto22576949No Worship Gathering Tomorrow

Tomorrow, Sunday, March 1, we will not gather for worship.  Even though I hate the idea of canceling our time together, a drive out to the church building convinced me it is the best decision.  While the main roads are sanded, the side roads, including 60th Ave. NW,  are still slick in most spots.  That combined with predictions of coming sleet confirm that the best place for all of us to be tomorrow morning is at home. Let’s all take a moment of personal worship, 10:30am tomorrow at home, and we will still be having corporate worship, only without the amazing coffee (no comments are welcome regarding my coffee)!   If you know of someone who does not regularly look at their email, give them a call and let them know to not drive out to the church tomorrow….however, do tell them to drive out next Sunday, March 8.

Be Safe,  Rick

In addition to the email, I sent out a text, posted it on the ‘closings’ feed on each local television stations, changed the outgoing phone message and finally put a sign on the church building door.  A great thing about having a small church is that it is easy to feel confident that you have contacted everyone.

For the remainder of my Saturday I lost at high stakes games of Monopoly and Risk with my kids, and called/lectured my kids that are away at college about the value of being safe when considering driving on the icy roads.

The entire day I comfortably rested in my decision to cancel church.

Four years ago I cancelled a Sunday gathering for the first time and it was anguishing.  I refused to make a call on Saturday, even though the weather made it obvious.  On Sunday morning I drove out to the church building at the edge of town to convince myself that canceling was the right decision, and then I paced the floors.  Our music team even showed up at the building before I finally decided, after hearing their harrowing driving experiences, I knew that I had to cancel our worship gathering.   Still, I worried, I worried what our church people would think, if the community would criticize, I worried that other pastors would judge, I worried it would make me look like a wimp.  Finally, my wife pointed out that the people that would still get in their cars and drive on the dangerous roads to the church building were our older folks who did not need to be on the road or sidewalks.

Still, in the years since, I have been hesitant to cancel church.  I watch the news feed to see if other churches are canceling in an attempt to justify my decision.  Still, I pace the floors and anguished over the decision.

This year was different, this year I made a quick decision, largely thanks to Ms. Barbara.

Ms. Barbara is a perfectly behaved senior adult in our church.  She endured a liver transplant and is still around over fifteen years beyond the medical community’s predictions of life expectancy.  She has diabetes, and countless other medical conditions and diagnosis.  She is known to my kids as the woman with the exploding toe; I won’t go into details except to say that the toe is not her only casualty to diabetes.  She is also the most polite and respectful person I have ever known.  She is always perfectly behaved and respectful to all.  I have a difficult time checking in on her because she always wants to know about my family when I am attempting to find out about her.  She is just that type of person.

Actually, she is perfectly behaved until she is a bit doped up in the hospital, especially days within a special hospital procedure.  She has had a lot of special procedures over the years I have been her pastor.  I love visiting Ms. Barbara within the pain medicine time period. During pain medicine time she is the person I always wish I could be.  The person that can say anything and get away with it.

On a hospital ststanwyckay years ago I told her that she was truly a ‘tough old broad’ in the example of Barbara Stanwyck.  She laughed.

On her most recent hospital stay I visited her room on Friday.  I got to her room at a moment of true chaos.  The weather was getting bad just as the meteorologists had predicted, and she had just finished her physical therapy following surgery after a very serious fall.  The nurse was on the phone with Ms. Barbara’s daughter attempting to explain the current situation while trying to get an oxygen count.  During all of this, Ms. Barbara noticed that her IV had come out and something was flowing out of her arm.  Everything was loud and busy.  However, not too busy for Ms. Barbara to yell at me as I walked into the door that I should not be out in this weather and that I need to cancel church for the coming Sunday.

“We have too many old people like me and they do not need to be out on the roads,” she yelled.

I stuck around for the chaos and as I left, after the nurse had loaded warm blankets on Ms. Barbara in an attempt to get an oxygen count, I was lectured again. Even as I was walking out the door she was still yelling that I needed to ‘cancel church.’

She was right and, as I drove away, I knew that I had to cancel our gathering on Sunday.  I had to because it was not about me, snow bridgeit was not about what others would think or how they could judge.  It was, and is, about what is best for the church, the people that are the church.  It was best that we all stayed home.

I didn’t need to pace anymore, I just had to keep my focus on what is right.

Stay Safe and Keep Focused, Rick

Let

Posted on by

“When scientists jubilantly announced last week that a telescope at the South Pole had detected ripples in space from the very beginning of time, the reverberations went far beyond the potential validation of astronomers’ most cherished model of the Big Bang.”*

Bicep 2 Telescope near South Pole

Bicep 2 Telescope near South Pole

 

The news of this detection peaked my curiosity. It got my attention not because I am a scientist, I am not, or because I understand much of the article Mr. Overby wrote, I really did try, it got my attention because of the monumental interesting topic that it is.

The beginning of time!

It is not supposed to get my attention, especially in a positive way, but it did. I am a pastor from a conservative, almost fundamental background, who is expected to walk hand in hand with young earth literal creationist. I should be rolling my eyes in disgust at this article. I am not. I should be critical, but instead I am intrigued. I am very blessed to be a pastor of a church who are patient with me and my excursions into the excitement of God and His creation.  Also, I must say that have no problem with those who hold to a literal view, I believe it is possible. However, I really believe that the creation account in scripture was given in order that we could gain a great deal more than a simple science lesson. I believe that the creation account holds the foundational truths that set us up for a full understanding of God. So, seeing ripples that may be from close to the start of it all, the start of the creation, is pretty cool.

What I would really love is a telescope that could show me the LET of creation.

“Let there be light” and there was light.

“Let the waters gather” and the waters gathered,

“Let there be vegetation” and there was vegetation,

“Let there be light” and there was light,

“Let the waters swarm with living creatures and the birds fly across the sky” and there were creatures swarming and birds flying across the sky,

“Let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind” and there were all kinds of living creatures,

“Let Us create humankind in our image according to our likeness and let them have dominion over the fish, birds, cattle, all kinds of animals, and over every creeping thing that creeps” and that is just what happened.**

I think I know what Let really is, it is the same as when my own kids were very young and they would yell “Let me go”. They wanted to see something exciting or do something even more exciting. I was the only thing holding them back and I was not about to let them go until it was right. When it was the right thing, the right place, the right time I would let them go. And they would go. They had been waiting for this moment and it was finally here, they were let go. They would spring forth with such excitement and joy that I could not wait until the next let.*** It is the same Let. They are both a work of letting go, halting the holding back, the restriction from activity. Restriction from creation. All the time before this glorious creation, God had been holding the creation back. Holding it back until just the right time, the perfect time. Creation was at the gate ready to roll just waiting on God to let loose of His grip. Finally the perfect time, the right time arrived. Finally God let it flow out of Him.

God Let Go.

And what a mighty and exhausting Let it was. Compared to the work of the creation that came from Him, the holding back must have seemed like a piece of cake. Letting go was exhausting. So much so that after He finished letting it go, He rested. He rested for a full day. I only do something that exhausting when it is something I love, for someone I love, because I am fully committed to the person I love and the action of let that is required of me. That was why God let creation go, He let it come forth. He fully loved the creation, He created for those He fully loved, and He was completely committed to the created.

While the first Old Testament phrase

In the beginning God

sets up an unarguable truth foundation for the remainder of God’s Word,

Let

gives us the needed foundational understanding of the character and nature of God. We immediately see the depth of God’s love for us by His exhausting first recorded actions for us.

LET

It is all the more amazing then that we miss this truth and even the truth that in the beginning there was God, already there, before creation.

INSTEAD

we argue over all the different ways that He Let. The strategies, the formulas, the blueprint for the how, while missing the all important what. We try to force our agenda about the creation on a world that has no understanding of the beginning, the Let, and therefore the Father, the coming Messiah and Holy Spirit. They miss it because they first did not get to meet the God who lovingly and passionately created a world that is all they know. They hear about young earth, literal days, and maybe even where the dinosaurs fit in, but they don’t first get to see God. The God they don’t know they are missing who loves them enough to exhaustingly let go for them.

They miss it because we have missed the focus, the point.

We argue over methods and theories. We attempt to force nonbelievers to teach and learn an unbelievable account that few scientist can even fathom instead of showing them this God that loves them enough to create, to let. We spend so much time on our agenda of how, that we miss God artistically and beautifully explaining why. I have heard many say that it is impossible to grasp and receive salvation if you don’t first ascribe to a certain theory of creation. Secondly I have heard it said that God does not care and love for His creation or the created. That it will ultimately burn so why spend the exhaustive effort to take care of it. The first thought I don’t understand, the second I find tragic.

Years ago, on an NPR interview, a renowned atheistic scientist said that his biggest complaint about Christians is that they diminish the majesty of the universe. He said, that we minimize how awesome the universe is in our attempts to shrink it down to a six day endeavor by a magical God. I didn’t catch the name of the scientist, nor evidently did any on at NPR who have repeatedly been unable to figure out who I am inquiring about. I did, however, catch what I think was his Holy Spirit inspired statement. We do miss the majesty of God’s magnificent work of LET when we insist it happened in such a simplistic manner. We miss the foundational signal of love and compassion that was core to His exhaustive work.

I wonder what it would do to our understanding, and even following of God, if we were to grasp the Let.

RAA

* Overbye, Dennis. “Ripples From the Big Bang.” The New York Times. The New York Times, 24 Mar. 2014. Web. 25 Mar. 2014 (pictures are from the article as well)

**Genesis, NRSV

***My wife birthed five kids in five and a half years, she is a saint. This was not our plan but we are very thankful for better plans. However, I must admit that the word joy at letting go of my toddlers’ hands is probably more of a ten year old memory lapse that has allowed me to forget the exhaustion of those moments. Interesting, in that way we did understand, at least a little bit, what God’s let really felt like.