Psalm 8 Moments.

There are good philosophical arguments against the idea that there is a God. I bumped into those in my philosophy classes in college.

Bright people have worked hard to construct solid reasons why the very idea of God seems far fetched. And there are several rather articulate atheists whose books are on the best seller lists right now.

I know that.

And then there are moments like the last two mornings. If you've been up early enough, you have seen a full moon in the sky. It's been breath-taking.

When I went out to get the morning papers at 5:30 yesterday morning, I looked up and the beauty over my head stopped me in my tracks. I stood there flat-footed with amazement. A few minutes later I was in the car, heading west and south, and the moon continued to move towards the west. Glowing with the sun's light. Reflecting the light from the sun back down on these prairie fields of early Spring.

I am not good at memorizing scripture. Standing there with the newspapers in my hands, and then later driving down the road, the words of Psalm 8 did come to mind: When I look at the sky, which you have made, at the moon and the stars, which you set in their places- what are human beings, that you think of them; mere mortals, that you care for them?

Later that morning, in Franklin, Indiana, I sat with two good friends at the funeral service for the mother of another buddy. The woman had died after years of being a near invalid, but she had lived with joy. "Help people as you can," was her favorite phrase. From the stories I heard not only was Dave's Mom a woman of deep faith who loved her family but she loved strangers. She had a way of listening to people that they recognized as a great gift. And she had a wicked, delightful, Irish-tinted sense of humor.

Where does the beauty and the goodness in the world come from? The stars and the moon above our heads in the stillness of an early Spring morning. Or the life of a woman who had every reason to pull in, retreat into self-pity, but who continued to love, give and listen. Where does it all come from?

I know there are all sorts of reasons people give for doubting the existence of God. But I think the moon and stars above my head, and one woman's life well lived, say something else.

Wondering.

It's Easter evening. Surveys of preachers talk about the "post preaching" emotional dip. It's sort of like a "post partum depression" (on a small scale). You work and pray over the message...if things go well there is this moment when God shows up and faith spreads to some hearts that haven't been sure. Then, the service ends. The preachers feels a bit lost... wondering what to do with himself or herself.


Some pastors, according to the survey, just want to go off...be left alone. They go home and curl up with a book...take a nap...go for a walk. Others throw themselves into a frenzy of activity...out to lunch with friends...phone calls to visitors...the evening youth group gathering... doing a load of laundry. (Never been tempted to do that last thing...on a Sunday evening.)


It's Easter evening and I am not suffering from a post-preaching "dip." The services have been amazing...not because of our skill or brilliance but because God has this way of showing. Because the story of the Empty Tomb is true...and Jesus is loose.


The worship gatherings have been stunning...moments with the children. Energy and praise from our Praise Team. Music from our Chancel Choir and Handbell Choir and Orchestra that just took our breath away...eliciting a very unprofessional "Oh, my!" from the Lead Pastor at Trinity in the middle of worship. There was the moment when I handed newly baptized Aubrey Ann to a tough guy...expert in security systems...who wasn't sure what to do with a baby! And there was the little girl who, during the children's moment, said, "There were so many people here today that I didn't know where you were... but I looked down from the balcony and saw your bald head and knew where to go!"

So it has been good. All good. My Dad came over...Ella and her folks were here. Before Ella and her parents headed back to Columbus, Ohio she grabbed the index finger of my left hand and took me for a walk...over to see some daffodils...and then we circled the car before Mommy put her in the car seat. I've been watching The Masters and reading the New York Times.

All good. No dip. Just thanksgiving...tonight.

Luke 24 tells us that Simon Peter leaves the empty tomb not sure about what God is up to...but he is "wondering" if the empty tomb story is true. If Jesus is, in fact, alive.

Here is what I am hoping for: I am hoping that the news that Christ is Risen will stick with people. That it doesn't get tossed, after a few days, like the flowers in the centerpiece on the dining room table. That it doesn't set aside. I am hoping that this faith, this hope, Jesus brings sticks... and just keeps showing up in the lives of people. In rough moments and sweet moments. Big times and little times.

It's Easter evening. Tomorrow is Monday. And Jesus is on the road ahead of us...out there. I'm so glad...so very glad...and hopeful.