We United Methodists are a friendly, chatty family. Even in worship. When we pastors invite people to greet the people around them, the members of our congregation jump up and its like a family reunion (without the watermelon seed spitting contest). The room just roars with conversation and laughter!
Even during the sermon there is a low-level "buzz" or hum in the congregation. Not that people are jawing away at one another, outloud. (Well, okay, there are some people who turn to their neighbors and just talk and talk and talk while the preaching is going on. But those verbal non-conformists are few.) But there is a hum in the room.
Every now and then, though, the rooms gets absolutely still. It's like people have stopped breathing.
Now, as a preacher you know people can get quiet because they have fallen into a deep sleep. The way the young man, Eutychus, falls asleep when Paul is preaching in Acts 20:9.
There are other times, though, when the people are absolutely still because the preacher has stepped into a place...a subject...that is so real to them they almost can't bear it. Sometimes people stop whispering to their neighbor, they stop scribbling out their shopping list, and sit absolutely still because they didn't think anyone else in the whole world knew how they were hurting...and apparently the preacher knows. Because she is talking about it as if she is very familiar with the territory of the parishioner's silent, desperate pain. "I didn't think anyone else knew about that," people think to themselves. "In fact...I have been trying to pretend my life, in that particular area, isn't torn wide open."
So you have to interpret the silence.
It is almost always surprising to me, as a preacher. We are working along, the room is humming, and then I make a statement and suddenly everyone is still. When that happens I -deep inside- lean back, and tell myself, "Okay...we have arrived. We're someplace important for these people I love." It's must be the way a deer feels when he walks out of the dense, shaded, undercover and finds himself unexpectedly standing in a open space in the woods. The air is still...the sunlight is bright...and nothing seems to be moving.
"The Lord is in his holy temple," Habakkuk 2:20 says. "Let all the earth be silent before him."
The silent spaces in worship, during the sermon, when the hum stops and people almost stop breathing? They are usually a surprise...unexpected. And they are almost always holy ground.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Can You See the Stretch Marks?
A web site on metal says this: "The term tensile strength refers to the amount of tensile (stretching) stress a material can withstand before breaking or failing."
This has been a beautiful day...great worship, an afternoon getting the house ready for the senior high youth group, a visit with a wonderful couple who are facing some challenges, and an evening on the patio watching the sun go down. Still, the last two weeks have been a pastoral whitewater trip: lots of rocks, churning water, and spray. You use your paddle, dig as hard as you can to get through one situation, and then the raft dips and you are into another rough stretch.
You get a call one night, and sit with a couple as they tell their children the marriage may be ending. That's how one week begins. It ends with an email from a friend whose marriage has just collapsed. In between is a friend's battle with cancer, a man in the community whose hidden addiction has suddenly come out in the open, a 80-year old whose 47-year old daughter is dying. This is "normal" stuff. People whose lives -their rafts- are hitting some large rocks. Everything normal is spun around. Maybe turned upside-down.
And there has been other stuff. Seems like every time I have turned around there has been someone who is upset with something we have done (or not done). These are people I love, and so their frustration...their sense that we should do ministry differently...hurts. I want everyone to be happy and yet sometimes they aren't. These hurting moments come at a time when the church is growing...when the vital signs are so strong in so many areas.
A friend told me, "Just keep praying. And leading. That's the only thing you can do."
So I have been thinking about tensil strength. It's the capacity of a material to bend...to handle stress...without breaking. Can the wings stretch enough to handle the added pressure when the jet runs into turbulence?
Tensil strength is an important quality in life. Some people have this way of "bouncing" back. Others hit turbulence and they come apart.
Women aren't -I know I'm going out on a limb here- very eager to show off their "stretch marks" to the world. I hear things advertised that are supposed to cover up those marks...make them disappear.
We tend to keep our psychological and emotional "stretch marks" hidden, don't we? Whether we are a teacher in a tough situation, or a social worker with an overwhelming caseload, or a doctor who spent half the night working to keep a patient alive and then was in the office for that first 8 o'clock appointment, or a business person trying to keep the doors open and the employees working for another month. We all have "whitewater" times. We all go through times when we are flying along and hit turbulence.
I don't know what keeps you going, but I would suggest prayer. And I would suggest remembering that you need to take good care of yourself... remember to walk away now and then. Take a breath. Focusing on today and letting tomorrow wait...can help.
Paul, in 2nd Corinthians 4:16, says he doesn't lose heart because he has confidence that the God who was able to raise Jesus Christ from the dead will also raise us up with Jesus.
You may be doing a good job of keeping your "stretch marks" hidden. Not letting people know about the rocks you have been hitting, the whitewater you have been paddling through, but God knows. You're not alone. Hang in there. Bend, flex, give, and keep coming back, okay?
This has been a beautiful day...great worship, an afternoon getting the house ready for the senior high youth group, a visit with a wonderful couple who are facing some challenges, and an evening on the patio watching the sun go down. Still, the last two weeks have been a pastoral whitewater trip: lots of rocks, churning water, and spray. You use your paddle, dig as hard as you can to get through one situation, and then the raft dips and you are into another rough stretch.
You get a call one night, and sit with a couple as they tell their children the marriage may be ending. That's how one week begins. It ends with an email from a friend whose marriage has just collapsed. In between is a friend's battle with cancer, a man in the community whose hidden addiction has suddenly come out in the open, a 80-year old whose 47-year old daughter is dying. This is "normal" stuff. People whose lives -their rafts- are hitting some large rocks. Everything normal is spun around. Maybe turned upside-down.
And there has been other stuff. Seems like every time I have turned around there has been someone who is upset with something we have done (or not done). These are people I love, and so their frustration...their sense that we should do ministry differently...hurts. I want everyone to be happy and yet sometimes they aren't. These hurting moments come at a time when the church is growing...when the vital signs are so strong in so many areas.
A friend told me, "Just keep praying. And leading. That's the only thing you can do."
So I have been thinking about tensil strength. It's the capacity of a material to bend...to handle stress...without breaking. Can the wings stretch enough to handle the added pressure when the jet runs into turbulence?
Tensil strength is an important quality in life. Some people have this way of "bouncing" back. Others hit turbulence and they come apart.
Women aren't -I know I'm going out on a limb here- very eager to show off their "stretch marks" to the world. I hear things advertised that are supposed to cover up those marks...make them disappear.
We tend to keep our psychological and emotional "stretch marks" hidden, don't we? Whether we are a teacher in a tough situation, or a social worker with an overwhelming caseload, or a doctor who spent half the night working to keep a patient alive and then was in the office for that first 8 o'clock appointment, or a business person trying to keep the doors open and the employees working for another month. We all have "whitewater" times. We all go through times when we are flying along and hit turbulence.
I don't know what keeps you going, but I would suggest prayer. And I would suggest remembering that you need to take good care of yourself... remember to walk away now and then. Take a breath. Focusing on today and letting tomorrow wait...can help.
Paul, in 2nd Corinthians 4:16, says he doesn't lose heart because he has confidence that the God who was able to raise Jesus Christ from the dead will also raise us up with Jesus.
You may be doing a good job of keeping your "stretch marks" hidden. Not letting people know about the rocks you have been hitting, the whitewater you have been paddling through, but God knows. You're not alone. Hang in there. Bend, flex, give, and keep coming back, okay?
Watching People Wave Goodbye.
Saturday evening after our worship service I slipped over to the Roosevelt Community Center where the good people of Prairie Street Mennonite Church were celebrating the ministry of their soon-to-depart pastor, the Reverend Andrew Kreider.
The reason I went, sat in a corner of the room, and watched this church family say things like "We love you," "Thanks," and "Goodbye" is -first- that I was invited to the party.
I raced over late, and slipped in after missing the meal, for another reason: Prairie is a lively Christian community and they have been especially strong under Andrew's leadership. You can tell, you can sense, when a congregation has a strong heartbeat. When they are alive. Making a difference. And I have sensed that about Prairie Street. When I heard Andrew had resigned so that he could support his wife in a new chapter in her work, I was surprised and saddened. Because I love this community, I know how healthy, vital churches can make a difference in a neighborhood, and I don't take outstanding pastoral leaders for granted. The truth is people who can do ministry the way Andrew does ministry are few and far between.
So I sat there...and listened to the stories.
As people talked about Andrew's preaching and the movement of the Holy Spirit, I found myself wishing I had slipped over there to worship on a Sunday morning. And I could tell what preaching means to a community of Christians.
I also found myself thinking about the night (or day) when the people at Trinity will gather together to say goodbye to me. Bless me and release me to whatever is next. Who will be there? When will it be? What will people say?
And I sat near the back of the crowd and began praying for that congregation. Every church is much more than the pastor who happens to serve it at the time. I know that. I say that. I remind laity of that when pastors come and go. But I also know that some "matches" are really amazing. Particularly effective. So I was praying because you could hear, in the people's voices, their recognition that this change meant something profound to all of them. While they were saying they were confident the creative ministries and outreach efforts would continue in the future, if you listened closely enough you might have heard them wondering if it would be okay.
I remember when Lucchese's -one of Elkhart's fine local, Italian restaurants- changed bakers. You'd think finding someone to bake the bread your customers have come to know and love would be pretty easy to do. But it -the transition- proved to be tricky. The new baker did it differently...some people liked the change. Others didn't. So the new baker tried to learn the old recipes and also introduce something new.
Guess ministry and baking bread may have a few things in common, when it comes to change and transition.
In this letter to a young Christian leader, 2nd Timothy 4:2-8 (NIV) likens Christian ministry to running a race...being in a 15-round fight:
Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage--with great patience and careful instruction. {3} For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. {4} They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths. {5} But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry.
{6} For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time has come for my departure. {7} I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. {8} Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day--and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.
Maybe this sounds odd coming from a pastor, but I am so thankful to those men and women who love Jesus and serve creatively, faithfully...in local congregations. I'm grateful, Andrew. I've been watching from across, town and you have done good work, my friend. Good work!
The reason I went, sat in a corner of the room, and watched this church family say things like "We love you," "Thanks," and "Goodbye" is -first- that I was invited to the party.
I raced over late, and slipped in after missing the meal, for another reason: Prairie is a lively Christian community and they have been especially strong under Andrew's leadership. You can tell, you can sense, when a congregation has a strong heartbeat. When they are alive. Making a difference. And I have sensed that about Prairie Street. When I heard Andrew had resigned so that he could support his wife in a new chapter in her work, I was surprised and saddened. Because I love this community, I know how healthy, vital churches can make a difference in a neighborhood, and I don't take outstanding pastoral leaders for granted. The truth is people who can do ministry the way Andrew does ministry are few and far between.
So I sat there...and listened to the stories.
As people talked about Andrew's preaching and the movement of the Holy Spirit, I found myself wishing I had slipped over there to worship on a Sunday morning. And I could tell what preaching means to a community of Christians.
I also found myself thinking about the night (or day) when the people at Trinity will gather together to say goodbye to me. Bless me and release me to whatever is next. Who will be there? When will it be? What will people say?
And I sat near the back of the crowd and began praying for that congregation. Every church is much more than the pastor who happens to serve it at the time. I know that. I say that. I remind laity of that when pastors come and go. But I also know that some "matches" are really amazing. Particularly effective. So I was praying because you could hear, in the people's voices, their recognition that this change meant something profound to all of them. While they were saying they were confident the creative ministries and outreach efforts would continue in the future, if you listened closely enough you might have heard them wondering if it would be okay.
I remember when Lucchese's -one of Elkhart's fine local, Italian restaurants- changed bakers. You'd think finding someone to bake the bread your customers have come to know and love would be pretty easy to do. But it -the transition- proved to be tricky. The new baker did it differently...some people liked the change. Others didn't. So the new baker tried to learn the old recipes and also introduce something new.
Guess ministry and baking bread may have a few things in common, when it comes to change and transition.
In this letter to a young Christian leader, 2nd Timothy 4:2-8 (NIV) likens Christian ministry to running a race...being in a 15-round fight:
Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage--with great patience and careful instruction. {3} For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. {4} They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths. {5} But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry.
{6} For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time has come for my departure. {7} I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. {8} Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day--and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.
Maybe this sounds odd coming from a pastor, but I am so thankful to those men and women who love Jesus and serve creatively, faithfully...in local congregations. I'm grateful, Andrew. I've been watching from across, town and you have done good work, my friend. Good work!
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Graced Filled Waffles.
They've always been places I drove by, those ubiquitous Waffle House restaurants along main highways and interstates. The last time I remember being in one, before this Spring, was the Fall of 1975 in Durham, North Carolina.
They just never were a place I wanted to stop.
A few weeks ago, though, I found myself in Buckhead, Georgia. Attending a conference of preachers. It was late enough the cool coffee shop down the road had closed up. So two friends and I found the only place open that might offer an inexpensive cup of coffee: a Waffle House.
Other than ourselves, there was only one other paying customer. Three employees were working the place. All African-Americans. They seemed glad to see us. Seemed thankful for the company. Stood nearby while we had our coffee and our raisin toast...our slice of pie...and talked with us. About the weather and traffic in Atlanta and the way folks from South Carolina talk. About the weather up north. One woman told us about her son, who is graduating from Oberlin College, and her youngest who is doing well in school...she sees to that! There was such a gracious spirit in that place!
Last night, here in Columbus, we didn't leave the hospital -where our second granddaughter had just been born the day before- until after 11. None of us had supper. Not many options at 11:20 at night if you are looking for something other than a hamburger. So I pulled into another Waffle House located across from a truck stop...and adjacent to I-670 West.
Ella, our 21-month old granddaughter, was a bit worn around the edges. Sharon rocked her. We ordered something to eat and then Sharon walked Ella outside. They stood there in the night air, under a nearly full moon, and the little girl found her second wind.
Our waitress was young. Doing her best. Working behind the counter. Unaware that her co-workers had taped a ragged piece of white paper to her back that said, KICK ME. When she forgot my decafe coffee she came over and apologized. Then, tried to finish a cheeseburger she had ordered, and which was growing cold on the plate sitting on the counter.
Sharon, Ella and I sat in the booth. Ella refused any food...but she did dip her finger in the syrup on my waffle and lick the sweetness off her finger! An older woman was sitting in a booth, by herself, about twelve feet away from us. She watched us...watched Ella. Sharon told her about Ella...how old she is.
Before we left the older woman, Agnes, approached our table. She bent down to talk with Ella. Asked her if she had a piggy bank. Ella looked perplexed. The woman opened her hand to reveal two quarters. "Put one in your piggy bank," she said quietly, "and put one in the piggy bank of your new, little sister."
The woman didn't look like she had two nickles to rub together -let alone quarters to give away.
I found myself thinking about the widow in the Jerusalem temple. Putting her last copper coins in the temple's offering box as a way of saying "thank you" to God. No one else noticed what she did, but Jesus had his eyes on her the whole time. And he told us about her.
I also found myself thinking of the Sermon on the Mount. Where Jesus says the poor and the humble and the seekers after God will be blessed.
Looking around, as I paid my bill, I had a hunch Jesus would have hung out in places like that...with people like that. We sing and talk a lot about God's grace in churches. Theologians write about that in journals and books too heavy to lift. Then, you pull into the parking lot of a Waffle House. The sound of tractor-trailers a non-musical backdrop to the scene. A nearly full moon adding a touch of beauty to such an ordinary setting. And you come face-to-face with grace.
It's surprising...which is a kind of judgement, you know? We talk about God's grace being loose in the world, and then we are surprised when we run into it.
Somehow, as I drive north and west tonight, towards home...I hunch that these places...glowing with their yellow lights late into the night...will not look the same to me.
They just never were a place I wanted to stop.
A few weeks ago, though, I found myself in Buckhead, Georgia. Attending a conference of preachers. It was late enough the cool coffee shop down the road had closed up. So two friends and I found the only place open that might offer an inexpensive cup of coffee: a Waffle House.
Other than ourselves, there was only one other paying customer. Three employees were working the place. All African-Americans. They seemed glad to see us. Seemed thankful for the company. Stood nearby while we had our coffee and our raisin toast...our slice of pie...and talked with us. About the weather and traffic in Atlanta and the way folks from South Carolina talk. About the weather up north. One woman told us about her son, who is graduating from Oberlin College, and her youngest who is doing well in school...she sees to that! There was such a gracious spirit in that place!
Last night, here in Columbus, we didn't leave the hospital -where our second granddaughter had just been born the day before- until after 11. None of us had supper. Not many options at 11:20 at night if you are looking for something other than a hamburger. So I pulled into another Waffle House located across from a truck stop...and adjacent to I-670 West.
Ella, our 21-month old granddaughter, was a bit worn around the edges. Sharon rocked her. We ordered something to eat and then Sharon walked Ella outside. They stood there in the night air, under a nearly full moon, and the little girl found her second wind.
Our waitress was young. Doing her best. Working behind the counter. Unaware that her co-workers had taped a ragged piece of white paper to her back that said, KICK ME. When she forgot my decafe coffee she came over and apologized. Then, tried to finish a cheeseburger she had ordered, and which was growing cold on the plate sitting on the counter.
Sharon, Ella and I sat in the booth. Ella refused any food...but she did dip her finger in the syrup on my waffle and lick the sweetness off her finger! An older woman was sitting in a booth, by herself, about twelve feet away from us. She watched us...watched Ella. Sharon told her about Ella...how old she is.
Before we left the older woman, Agnes, approached our table. She bent down to talk with Ella. Asked her if she had a piggy bank. Ella looked perplexed. The woman opened her hand to reveal two quarters. "Put one in your piggy bank," she said quietly, "and put one in the piggy bank of your new, little sister."
The woman didn't look like she had two nickles to rub together -let alone quarters to give away.
I found myself thinking about the widow in the Jerusalem temple. Putting her last copper coins in the temple's offering box as a way of saying "thank you" to God. No one else noticed what she did, but Jesus had his eyes on her the whole time. And he told us about her.
I also found myself thinking of the Sermon on the Mount. Where Jesus says the poor and the humble and the seekers after God will be blessed.
Looking around, as I paid my bill, I had a hunch Jesus would have hung out in places like that...with people like that. We sing and talk a lot about God's grace in churches. Theologians write about that in journals and books too heavy to lift. Then, you pull into the parking lot of a Waffle House. The sound of tractor-trailers a non-musical backdrop to the scene. A nearly full moon adding a touch of beauty to such an ordinary setting. And you come face-to-face with grace.
It's surprising...which is a kind of judgement, you know? We talk about God's grace being loose in the world, and then we are surprised when we run into it.
Somehow, as I drive north and west tonight, towards home...I hunch that these places...glowing with their yellow lights late into the night...will not look the same to me.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Sometimes You Just Have to Tip-Toe In.
You rarely dive all the way under, in June, when you want to go swimming in Lake Michigan. You wade out a few feet. Let part of your body get used to the cold. And then you go all the way under.
There are all moments in life when that is true. I know people say it's better to pull a Band-Aid off all at once, but there are many moments when it takes us awhile to get our heads -and hearts- around some big change. Some big truth. There are times when gradual is better...easy does it.
That was never more apparent than during the last 24 hours. Our second granddaughter, Olivia Rose, was born yesterday around 2:50 p.m. It was late afternoon before Sharon and I brought Olivia's 21-month old big sister up to the hospital here in Columbus. Olivia was out of the room when we entered Joleen's room. Ella was unsettled by the sight of her Mommy in a hospital bed. She teared up when she say the IV's in her Mommy's arm. But she ended up sitting next to Mommy in the hospital bed. Watching a video on her Mommy's i-Phone.
When the nurse brought Olivia into the room, Ella looked up for a second, glanced at this little bundle that was placed in her Mommy's arms, and then went right back to her video. There was hardly a ripple of recognition that something was different....but you could tell she knew the universe was shifting.
Ella paid little attention to Olivia, and preferred to walk up and down the halls with Grandpa. Work the elevator. When I would say, "Do you want to go see Mommy?" Ella would respond with, "No...no way." Late in the evening, though, I held her as she looked through the glass into the Nursery. I pointed out Olivia to her, and a nurse brought Olivia to the windows. Ella studied her little sister and quietly said, "Baby sister."
Today when we went to the hospital, Daddy was holding Olivia. Ella sat down next to them. Reached out...carefully touched her little sister's feet. Bent over and kissed them...kissed Olivia's knees...and her lips. After about 20 minutes, though, she was ready to go...said, "Grandpa...elevator!"
So we left...headed to McDonald's and the Columbus Zoo.
It has been something watching the mixture of emotions in this 21-month old. It has been something to see her carefully taking in this big thing that has happened. Not trying to "get it" all at once. There is recognition... and then there is some time getting close...and then there will be more discoveries to come.
Life changes and we tip-toe up on the reality of what this means. I think that is just fine, you know? Sometimes, if you dive into the cold water all it once, it almost makes your heart stop. (And that's not a good thing!)
Jesus didn't, in the beginning, tell Simon Peter what he said three years later in John 21. "You're going to be taken where you don't want to go, and there going to put you away." No, Jesus said, "Come, follow me, and I'll show you how to catch people." The rest of it Peter -and the others- would learn along the way. Begin to understand along the way.
So one evening she glances over for a second, and then looks away. The next day she sits close, tenderly touches those small feet, and then is ready to run the halls. It will only be sometime later that she will fully understand what it means to share the world...the house...Mommy and Daddy...with someone who is your sister.
There are all moments in life when that is true. I know people say it's better to pull a Band-Aid off all at once, but there are many moments when it takes us awhile to get our heads -and hearts- around some big change. Some big truth. There are times when gradual is better...easy does it.
That was never more apparent than during the last 24 hours. Our second granddaughter, Olivia Rose, was born yesterday around 2:50 p.m. It was late afternoon before Sharon and I brought Olivia's 21-month old big sister up to the hospital here in Columbus. Olivia was out of the room when we entered Joleen's room. Ella was unsettled by the sight of her Mommy in a hospital bed. She teared up when she say the IV's in her Mommy's arm. But she ended up sitting next to Mommy in the hospital bed. Watching a video on her Mommy's i-Phone.
When the nurse brought Olivia into the room, Ella looked up for a second, glanced at this little bundle that was placed in her Mommy's arms, and then went right back to her video. There was hardly a ripple of recognition that something was different....but you could tell she knew the universe was shifting.
Ella paid little attention to Olivia, and preferred to walk up and down the halls with Grandpa. Work the elevator. When I would say, "Do you want to go see Mommy?" Ella would respond with, "No...no way." Late in the evening, though, I held her as she looked through the glass into the Nursery. I pointed out Olivia to her, and a nurse brought Olivia to the windows. Ella studied her little sister and quietly said, "Baby sister."
Today when we went to the hospital, Daddy was holding Olivia. Ella sat down next to them. Reached out...carefully touched her little sister's feet. Bent over and kissed them...kissed Olivia's knees...and her lips. After about 20 minutes, though, she was ready to go...said, "Grandpa...elevator!"
So we left...headed to McDonald's and the Columbus Zoo.
It has been something watching the mixture of emotions in this 21-month old. It has been something to see her carefully taking in this big thing that has happened. Not trying to "get it" all at once. There is recognition... and then there is some time getting close...and then there will be more discoveries to come.
Life changes and we tip-toe up on the reality of what this means. I think that is just fine, you know? Sometimes, if you dive into the cold water all it once, it almost makes your heart stop. (And that's not a good thing!)
Jesus didn't, in the beginning, tell Simon Peter what he said three years later in John 21. "You're going to be taken where you don't want to go, and there going to put you away." No, Jesus said, "Come, follow me, and I'll show you how to catch people." The rest of it Peter -and the others- would learn along the way. Begin to understand along the way.
So one evening she glances over for a second, and then looks away. The next day she sits close, tenderly touches those small feet, and then is ready to run the halls. It will only be sometime later that she will fully understand what it means to share the world...the house...Mommy and Daddy...with someone who is your sister.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Love Multiplies.
This is a big week. On Friday afternoon our second granddaughter, Olivia Rose, is to be born at 2:30 p.m. in Columbus, Ohio. (Being an IU grad and having your granddaughters born in the heart of Ohio State country is really tough...I feel like a rabbi whose kids have moved to Teheran!)
Those of you who know me, know how crazy I am about Beautiful Ella. Being a Grandpa has surprised me...this 21-month old has my heart. She tells me she misses me over the phone. She squeals and jumps into my arms when her Mom comes her way to change her diaper or give her a bath. When we watch basketball on tv she even imitates my muttered, "Oh, come on!" when the refs don't make the call.
So Olivia is on the way. I wonder how I can feel the same kind of delight...and yet I know I will.
Love has this way of multiplying...the heart has this way of expanding. When there are more people to love, God gives us the gift of more love. There is always enough.
I've been in a conversation with a friend who is thrilled with her small group at Trinity. She and her friends are so delighted that they hesitate to divide the group and help grow some new groups with that same kind of gracious, loving, Jesus-centered DNA. I tell her God will multiply the love.
Sometimes, when I talk with people in churches where there is a proposal to go from one weekly worship service to two, or two to three, I hear them say, "We won't know everyone." I tell them, "Yes, you're right. If we need to know everyone in the church then the church is going to have to stay really small. Which means we turn our backs on all sorts of folks who want to know Jesus...know God...experience grace-filled community." I tell people it is okay...God will multiply the love.
Paul, the tough, old rabbi turned Christian preacher, is writing to the early Christians in 1st Thessalonians 2:7b, uses the image of a nursing mother to describe his relationship as pastor. He talks about how much he loves them and has worked among them. Truth is, though, he says the same thing to Christians in other early churches. He loves them...all. God multiplies the love. There is always enough to go around when we hang out with Jesus.
Olivia Rose.
I think I'll call her, Lovely Olivia.
I'm ready to welcome you and love you, Olivia. And we'll make sure Ella doesn't get lost in the celebration...there will be enough love to go around.
Those of you who know me, know how crazy I am about Beautiful Ella. Being a Grandpa has surprised me...this 21-month old has my heart. She tells me she misses me over the phone. She squeals and jumps into my arms when her Mom comes her way to change her diaper or give her a bath. When we watch basketball on tv she even imitates my muttered, "Oh, come on!" when the refs don't make the call.
So Olivia is on the way. I wonder how I can feel the same kind of delight...and yet I know I will.
Love has this way of multiplying...the heart has this way of expanding. When there are more people to love, God gives us the gift of more love. There is always enough.
I've been in a conversation with a friend who is thrilled with her small group at Trinity. She and her friends are so delighted that they hesitate to divide the group and help grow some new groups with that same kind of gracious, loving, Jesus-centered DNA. I tell her God will multiply the love.
Sometimes, when I talk with people in churches where there is a proposal to go from one weekly worship service to two, or two to three, I hear them say, "We won't know everyone." I tell them, "Yes, you're right. If we need to know everyone in the church then the church is going to have to stay really small. Which means we turn our backs on all sorts of folks who want to know Jesus...know God...experience grace-filled community." I tell people it is okay...God will multiply the love.
Paul, the tough, old rabbi turned Christian preacher, is writing to the early Christians in 1st Thessalonians 2:7b, uses the image of a nursing mother to describe his relationship as pastor. He talks about how much he loves them and has worked among them. Truth is, though, he says the same thing to Christians in other early churches. He loves them...all. God multiplies the love. There is always enough to go around when we hang out with Jesus.
Olivia Rose.
I think I'll call her, Lovely Olivia.
I'm ready to welcome you and love you, Olivia. And we'll make sure Ella doesn't get lost in the celebration...there will be enough love to go around.
Forgetting the Basics.
One of my favorite parts of summer is water skiing. I learned how to do that late one summer afternoon about eight years ago, and I have a blast getting out on the water about an hour before sunset...when the lake is still and most sensible people have gone in for the day.
This past Sunday afternoon we zipped down to Koontz Lake (after a quick stop to pick up a plastic, push, toy lawnmower for Beautiful Ella). Nervous about the cold water, I set the skis in the boat, climbed into my suit and a wet suit, got in the boat...and we headed out into the middle of the lake.
When Sharon stopped the boat, I took a deep breath...grabbed a ski in one arm...and jumped in. As I struggled to put on the skis I realized I had forgotten to put on a ski/life jacket. So we had to go back to shore to pick up that particular little item.
Sometimes we get so focused on something that we forget the basics. We do that in life, don't we? Jesus said, "Seek first the kingdom of God." It's easy, as we are trying to balance our budgets or look for a job or muddle through a tough situation at work, to forget that basic kingdom stuff. I was so worried about the cold water that I forget the life jacket...had never done that before. What has you so worried that you are tempted to forget the basics of life with God?
This past Sunday afternoon we zipped down to Koontz Lake (after a quick stop to pick up a plastic, push, toy lawnmower for Beautiful Ella). Nervous about the cold water, I set the skis in the boat, climbed into my suit and a wet suit, got in the boat...and we headed out into the middle of the lake.
When Sharon stopped the boat, I took a deep breath...grabbed a ski in one arm...and jumped in. As I struggled to put on the skis I realized I had forgotten to put on a ski/life jacket. So we had to go back to shore to pick up that particular little item.
Sometimes we get so focused on something that we forget the basics. We do that in life, don't we? Jesus said, "Seek first the kingdom of God." It's easy, as we are trying to balance our budgets or look for a job or muddle through a tough situation at work, to forget that basic kingdom stuff. I was so worried about the cold water that I forget the life jacket...had never done that before. What has you so worried that you are tempted to forget the basics of life with God?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)