Sometimes Silence is Good.

After 13 years serving a congregation you get to a point where you don't have the energy to play church. You get real. You get honest.

This weekend was one of those days when we talked, in worship, about some real stuff.

You can tell when the message is getting close to the hearts of people, you can tell when you are shaking some of the foundations and assumptions of peoples' lives, because they get very, very quiet.

This weekend it was like people had stopped breathing.

We were talking about how determined Joseph and Mary were to love their son, and introduce him to the God who loves him with everything he has. They had their son circumcised and named on the 8th day after his birth. They took him all the way to Jerusalem 40 days after his birth for the Jewish ritual of purification. They took their son to synagogue every week. They told him the stories of the faith.

A look at attendance patterns in our Sunday school shows the children from our most active families are present about once every three weeks. So we talked about this. We talked about how parents fool themselves into thinking their children are getting a spiritual foundation when we are only around enough to give our children spiritual quicksand.

I challenged parents to make God a commitment -not an afterthought. I reminded them that if they are here now and then, their child is always going to feel like an outsider...a stranger. I spoke to those who are sort of on the fence about being here because they have heard of a better nursery or children's ministry or youth center or teaching ministry in another church down the road. I said what most pastors would say: "If your heart is somewhere else, then go! Don't stay on the fence, sort of here and sort of not, because you're not helping your children...our church...or the other place. Go! Be all in or all out...but make a decision!"

It was quiet.

Sometimes silence is good, I think.

The people attending the synagogue in Nazareth, when Jesus preached from the prophet Isaiah, tried to kill him. They didn't like what he was saying.

No one threw a shoe today. No crowd tried to throw me off the sledding hill at Oxbow Park.

It was just quiet.

And I think that is okay.

Risking the Rocking Chair.

The sixteen month old I know as "beautiful Ella" is walking. Taking about five and six steps at a time before she plops back down on the floor.

One of her favorite activities, right now, is to crawl up on a white, plastic rocking chair in the living room of her parents' home. The chair looks like one of those office waiting room chairs from the 1960's or 70's. The thing is not all that stable.

But Ella likes to crawl up on it and rock -while standing up!

Mom and Dad have warned her about this. Encouraged her to sit down. "On the bottom," they say. "Sit on your bottom." But the view is more exciting, and the rocking is more pronounced, when she pulls herself up on the plastic chair with the low sides, and stands.

Life is an exercise in risk taking, isn't it? And one of the most frustrating things for a parent is not being able to protect our children from themselves. You know the risk...you can see the accident waiting to happen...but the toddler sees only the excitement of what they want to do.

Sometimes we are able to warn the people we love and know away from a decision or course of action that is going to bring all kinds of pain their way. They listen to the warnings. They are "teachable." But so often we refuse to listen...to be coached...and we say, "I'll do it myself. I'll figure this out myself. I'll try this on for size myself." What usually results is pain. Bumps and bruises. Maybe a trip to the ER. Certainly tears. This is "learning the hard way" and it seems to be the learning option of choice for many of us.

Sometimes, unfortunately, experience is the best teacher. But the lessons can be harsh.

Jesus warned a rich, young man that if he held onto his wealth....if he continued to value money over God and relationships...he was going to be miserable. But the man wouldn't believe Jesus. He chose to hang onto money as the defining reality of his life.

Being a parent can be tough, you know? We love...we want to protect...but when you give life you release a new generation to learn lessons. You turn them loose to exercise their freedom. Sometimes they choose well... and sometimes they fall, get hurt, and end up running to you.

God knows something about having kids who insist on doing things their way...learning the hard way. I wonder if he has ever revisited his decision, in those first moments of creation, to give his sons and daughters the gift of freewill.

Sit down on the rocking chair, Ella. Sit down, please. I don't want to see you hurt. Grandpa doesn't want to see you hurt. Please.