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Friday, December 31, 2010

For the New Year

Here's a chance for Christian cooperation:  95% of Christians believe, together and in common, 95% of Christian doctrine.  The 5 and 5 outside of that generally disagree on very minor issues (which they often make into HUGE issues), giving the appearance of disunity.

Here's one fundamental agreement:  there was one day that changed everything, a single day that has had more impact than any other day in all of human history.  Jesus' last earthly day:  Last Supper to Gethsemane to Crucifixion.  That 24 hour period has influenced more people, for more years, than any other day.  And the significance of that DAY was underlined by the HOUR of the discovery of Resurrection!

A friend said it this way:  "I just missed seeing the biggest bass that ever was in this lake, but I DID see the splash!"  An unbeliever with an open mind searching for historical verification of the whole event has to objectively consider the SPLASH, even when no camera took the pictures.  After all, that's the only proof for any event we didn't personally witness.  (All of history, sacred and secular, agrees on that level of proof.)  And it is sufficient.

We don't follow Jesus blindly, or just with a dedication to high hopes, or just because Grandpa did!  We follow Jesus when the objective reality of that unique combination of events is totally verified by the witness of the Holy Spirit.  That convinces.  God did that.

And that is the core of Christian unity:  when the Spirit verifies the record.  Other things?  Lots of them are in the pile that says "I can take it or leave it."  This one is the Christian fundamental that underlies all the rest of Christian doctrine.

So, tell yourself "Happy New Year".  God did it.  2000 years of human history teaches us far too much about  conflict and division based in human nature, but it also confirms for us that God did it, for you and me!

Go celebrate.  Toot a horn.  Make a cheerful resolution.  Spend time with your best friend.  And smile as 2010 gives way to 2011.  It's another good year on God's calendar.  Thank God for Jesus!!

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Granny Sez......

..."always tell the truth, then you don't have to remember what you said!"

A little like Jesus said:  Let your yes be yes and your no be no.

Every gathering brings entertainment, you know.  Like the friend who wants to reminisce about a long-ago childhood.  Year by year, that childhood has changed.   (Do you have a friend  like that?)   The birth family that once was dysfunctional, poor, and sent my friend to live with others (not so dramatic as with strangers), has changed.  Over the years, that family has become a model of excellent farming, prosperous, mutually supportive and loving, a pathway for young women to find their way into the Daughters of the American Revolution.  And next year, there will be "enhancements" for every detail.

In my first pastorate, there was a woman who was a certified hypochondriac.  She was always "sick".  Ask her how she feels today;  the answer was always the same:  "Oh, I been sufferin' death!"  And then one day, she got sick.  Real sickness.  No-fooling-sickness.  And she didn't have words to express it, but that was just fine, because no one was asking anymore.  She had found that particular kind of loneliness that follows on never telling the truth.

It's like the folk-story of the boy who cried "wolf" until people quit responding, and then he met a wolf along the road.  Uh oh.

(And in a polarized political climate, all of us meet the people who never stop manipulating, but never remember yesterday's story, which often wasn't true either.  Their conversation is often a collection of bumper-stickers, strung end to end.)

I find that some conversations fade away.   I stop listening to those who are always sick, always fearful, always "pitiable", because often they are just acting out their own need to manipulate the social scene.  Because that filtering is actually the only way to keep open to those who are ACTUALLY living out a real drama, not one of their own inventing.

So, who do you and I listen to?  We like the plain-spoken.  I need the conversation with the one who truly cares about issues, real life, is concerned about the well-being of their neighbor, is celebrating life's conquest of whatever difficulty is met along the way.  I need conversation with the real person.  If we are to deal with real life, real and credible conversation is a powerful tool.  When my friend has conquered, it strengthens me.

 Granny got it right:  just tell the truth, it's so much simpler than trying to remember what you said yesterday!  Just keep it simple, plain, and honest.  (Feel free to copy my Granny and send to anyone you think might not have yet gotten the memo on this!)

Thursday, December 23, 2010

The Guide, OR Who Did Jesus Come For?


In Budapest, she took up her little banner and led us from the bus to the patriotic Hero's Square, and began. At once, we realized that our guide was NOT politically neutral, intended to hit LOTS of "hot buttons", and was passionately patriotic.

As we toured squares and churches, we asked each other, "I wonder what faith our guide holds?"  Bit by bit, while  we weighed the conversation, she talked about the decline of the church, and the heritage days of shamanism. Soon, our opinion began to firm. 


From a Catholic family, raised during the strictest days of Communism, never much to practice Catholicism, intensely patriotic with a love for Hungary's older heritage..........she had a deep respect for shamanism. And what religious element survived, within her materialism, was that ancient connection to the shaman.

The individual and community spiritualism in Hungary that endured the barbarians, the Huns, the Romans, the Turks, the Holy Roman Empire, the Nazis, the Communists, and now endured modern materialism took the shape of the "old reliable" and surfaced in her conversations.

She might only pray when she needed to, but when that happened, it seemed clear that it would be in the framework of the old gods. 


In our time, the football coach might say: "We gonna dance with who brung us." In every time, people go with who and what they trust. In our culture, materialism seems to be winning the day, with a polite nod to the Christian vocabulary, but material to the bone! In a culture, like Hungary (or ours!), that has been tossed from one set of absolutes to another, one of the systems will win.


So, the question: for her, who has every good reason to trust nothing OTHER than shamanism, does God turn away from her or still do His very best to love HER? She'll never use the LANGUAGE of either church or mosque, because she doesn't trust either one. 


BUT..........................................
And Jesus said: "I have other sheep not of this fold..........."
A very provocative short statement in John's Gospel............................ including WHO?

Judge? Nope. Just do my best to walk by the light given to me.......................


Jesus was born in Bethlehem FOR?   God so loved the WORLD that He gave His Son......  The whole world, all of it, in all its varieties and differences.  God loves the people who don't trust Him, just yet, because they've not seen a trustworthy DISCIPLE.  I wonder how God feels about that?


And I wonder if this is not the BIGGEST question for disciples .................... am I being trustworthy in the sight of those around me??????  Not really "Who's right?" and "Who's wrong?"  But.......do I show Jesus in a trustworthy fashion?


Blessings for Christmas, the gift that's still mysterious!

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Christmas Adoptees

Part of the celebration of Christmas is the celebration of beautiful branches grafted onto the sometimes-older vine.  Things such as evergreen Christmas trees, St. Nicholas, even the December dating, are all "add-ins" to the original story, each bringing/brought by believers who were then new to the faith.  Some of the things are older, some younger, but all are gifts to you and me in our time.  And every one has brought new believers along.

If you were to count the religions that interpret winter solstice as a significant promise of new life, first harbinger of spring, it would be the whole list.  If the most insightful psychology says that we are hard-wired for faith in God, then surely this is one of those points built into us. 

As the days stop their shortening and slightly begin to lengthen, astronomers ancient and modern have pointed to the event.  From the astronomical observatories at Chaco Canyon to the Central American religions, to the Egyptians and Greeks, ancient astronomy was hardly primitive on this point.  And it has fascinated the children of God in every age.  "The LIGHT is coming back!!!"

On what day was Jesus actually born?  I don't know.   On what day did the early Christians decide to celebrate His birth?  Within the solstice festival, when "the light is coming back"; that's when we celebrate the birth of the Light of the World. 

Over and over, festival days, heroes, and theology come to be grafted into the story.  Thank God for that.  Christmas is always expanding!

Monday, December 20, 2010

When the Baby Grew Up in a Hard, Hard World

Traveling in Europe last fall, we came to one small town where there were three small square brass labels in the stone sidewalk, just outside the thresh-hold of one front door.  It marked where a Jewish man, his daughter, and grand-daughter had lived,  They gave the dates the three were taken away, and the dates they died in the Holocaust.


It was a reminder that evil triumphs when good people are too silent!  


While a student, I had a chance to meet and to hear Pastor Martin Niemoller, an opponent of Hitler and his plan to finance the German church, thus intending to silence any word about justice for all people.  Speaking about the beginning of the terrible times, Niemoller said:


“When the Nazis came for the Communists, I didn't speak up, because I was not a Communist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak up because I was not a Jew. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist. Then they came for the Catholics, and I was a Protestant, so I didn't speak up. Then they came for me ... and by that time, there was no one left to stand up for me.”


He survived, because they came for him very late in the conflict.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a colleague of his, was hanged just days before the liberation of Berlin.  Feeling such guilt over his silence in the face of Hitler, Niemoller became a ferocious combatant against Communism in East Germany.  He was never silent again in the face of oppression for any of God's people


The parable in this?  If you live like Jesus, you tend to say some of the same things the grown-up Jesus said!  That means you often find yourself an advocate for the poor, the outcast, the whole "lower rung" of society.  (Every society defines a lower rung, and it's pretty easy to find Jesus there!)  Some folks were (and are) greatly angered by Jesus' care for the poor; but then you know the rest of the story.  It was (and is) a hard, hard world to which God sent the angels to sing!
Is this ancient stuff?  Not at all.  It is current events with Jesus, every day.


Blessings.

Friday, December 17, 2010

One Happy Tradition


December has some special traditions/tasks around everyone's house.  One of ours is a year-end Christmas gift.  We finish our gifts to the church, to special ministries like UMCOR, a gift to Haiti relief, and a couple of charities we've supported for a long time.

Then, we have the "family collection" from all our extended family.  We go to the Heifer Project website.  Based on what different parts of our family put in, we pick a gift for subsistence farmers.  I like their plan, because they require gift recipients to share the gift, giving away seeds, or the off-spring of animals, passing on the help and creating a network of people helping people.

We make four cards for the grand-children to read at Christmas lunch.  This year we give bees, ducks, chickens, trees and one extra wild card (a pig) as a thanksgiving and gift for others.  As a gardener, I truly enjoy doing this for someone else!

As a Methodist, I like contributing through the regular budget for missions, for the American Bible Society, for colleges and universities, for evangelism, and to support pastors in sometimes impoverished situations, and all the rest.  There are lots of things to feel good about in this Christmas season.

Heifer Project is just a personal one that colors the celebration in fine ways for us.

I hope you have happy traditions when your family gathers, as well.

Blessings for all your celebrations.

If Necessary, Use Words

There are a couple of varieties of the slogan about showing Jesus to the world around us.  All varieties say that words are secondary!  It's the visible communication that matters.  Christmas decorations communicate well.  This year, there is so much less decoration in yards than I've seen before.  I like the lights and the messages, and I'm not sure why there are so few this year.  (I'm not too keen on the "deflatables" that lose air and fall over in the yard - - - not sure what THAT message is.)

Long ago, the Greeks decided what God was like by philosophy (strange and shaky ground for knowing God);  the Hebrews decided what God was like by what He DID.  They didn't have any philosophical framework for the pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night, but they were absolutely sure of the God who DID it.  And the re-telling of the story of God's deeds, over and over, shaped a thousand years of confidence.

We communicate without words.  In a study session in my doctoral program, the presenter was asked about his own training: where he did his doctorate, and what his language study was.  Hugh Halverstadt (born in Africa to a missionary couple) said simply:  "Not German or French, but Body Language".  For a moment, that froze the group, as we were all very aware he could understand what we DIDN'T say.

Body language, the communication without words, says all the positive and negative things we feel.  There are welcome signs, affirming signs, acceptance signs, calming and comforting signs.  And there are the negatives.  We all understand the rolling of the eyes and the looking down the nose, and the long sighs to negate something we've said.  Every good salesman and persuader becomes very attentive to the signals.

I used to wonder how we could control that body language.  Lots of it, almost all of it, just happens, as we show what's really in our hearts.  And if we try to manipulate it, we find that's almost impossible to do, believably.   If our hearts are pure and we do love Jesus, that colors everything we proclaim.

For this Christmas, proclaim Jesus, and if necessary, use words.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

When It's a Blue-Gray Christmas

The title lifts straight from the UM Reporter, the concern lifts straight from the lives of good friends.  Some of us are vulnerable to the Christmas-blues, emotions overloaded by the loss of a loved-one, a new loss or a long-ago loss.  The heart really doesn't keep a calendar, does it?

Long shadows of winter days magnify loneliness, people missing from the family roll-call live in our imagination so vividly, and the light-hearted good cheer all around may just amplify.

In those moments, blessed are those who have caring, sensitive, aware Christian friends.  An arm around a shoulder, a solid hand-shake, a simple knowing that someone understands and remembers with you, all these are precious.  Julie Yarborough, widow of the late Leighton Farrell, former pastor of Highland Park UMC in Dallas has written a book:  Inside the Broken Heart.  There's insight and help there for those of us who really want to be a helper.

As people of faith, we are aware of the empty chair, and as we focus on Jesus's birth, it tugs on our hearts to help us conquer that empty spot.

It's o.k. to remember and help someone reminisce, it's o.k. to talk about those not with us this year, and it's o.k. to allow a tear to show.

And it is MOST o.k. to love one another through difficult moments, especially the ones that slide into our awareness just as everyone else sings the joyful songs.  It's o.k.  It becomes a good mix.

Bring that to Jesus, too.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Christmas Wars

I understand the Atheists and the Catholics are posting big billboards in California, concerning whether Christmas is mythical.  Mythical is a big and difficult word.

Santa Claus is at best mythical, and at worst just legendary.  But don't mess with Santa!!!!!  There was a Saint Nicholas, but a long way from the "ho ho ho" of today.  Some of the most powerful statements of all religions are framed as myths.  It's a literary FORM only, and sometimes myths are more true than the prosaic words of the phone book.

O.K., so Santa is a myth, and he stands for the generosity of spirit that Christ stirs up in most folks.  BUT, old Santa is kinda weak, at least as ancient mythology goes.  And that's the truth, just be careful where you say it.  People who don't believe in myths, at all, ever, will defend THAT one ferociously!  (At least until the children are of a certain age, and then you have to walk through the "moment" of "I know we said that, but Santa's only pretend.  It's Jesus that's really real."  Not a helpful moment for credibility, but then we didn't design it, we just inherited it.)

Jesus is not a myth.  Underline that one!   Jesus is not a myth!

But, one of the huge "Christmas Wars" of the very first celebrating generation was over the date of December 25.  Just after the winter solstice, just when you could be SURE that the season was changing and the days were lengthening again, EVERY ancient religion had a festival day.  It was the birthday of the sun, the resurrection of the Sun-god, the re-birth of the earth, the first movement toward spring, depending on which one you were checking.  It was basic. 

The church had no real celebration of Christmas, at first.  Easter was the day.  Easter defined Sunday as the Lord's Day.  Already claimed by the Sun-god as a worship day, THAT was a definition-war, as well.  It became the church's day, Resurrection Day, with a totally obvious rationale.  Not mythical at all, very literal, and carrying an incredibly full meaning.

But Christmas came later, and with no recorded DATE for the birth of Jesus (although summer ranks high as a probability), the Church CHOSE December 25, to CONVERT the date and with it, to convert as many as possible from the worship of other Gods to the following of Christ.  That was a big deal in the history of the church.  It was intentionally crafted.

Actually one of the biggest wars-of-conversion is the modern one (we're in it now): the changing of the "12 Days of Christmas" FROM the 12 days moving from Christmas Day to the celebration of Epiphany, INTO the last 12 shopping days for Christmas presents.  That is where we are losing the war, as faith-statements are out-shouted by marketing statements.  Using Jesus to sell a sofa is just offensive to me.  

That's the biggest one:  the dumbing-down of Christmas from "the Word made flesh" into the biggest shopping season for glorious consumerism in the whole year!  And all in the name of the one born poor in a barn, who chose poverty as a total life-style, who witnessed that he had no where to lay his head, especially a super-engineered reclining couch!  And no matter how often you hear it, it still makes no sense at all.

So what's worth defending?  I'm not into the Merry-Christmas-marketing thing.  I'm pretty much into the Jesus celebration.   It's simple:  we could do without the presents; but we can't do without the Lord of every season.  And if we sing the songs, worship together, and renew our commitments as the New Year approaches, we will have had Christmas in the fundamental ways.  Even if we don't get a present or even SEE a red bow.  We will have honored Jesus, in a small way.  And that's a big thing.

Millions of Birds

At the start of breakfast this morning, enjoying watching a cloud moving north, then suddenly the birds.  Using the golf course fairway as a path of sorts, millions of birds, moving south.  From ground level to 100 feet up, then as the procession continued, never touching down, staying in the lower 6 feet.  Continuous flow for at least 10 minutes, millions of birds.

Jesus said that strange thing, you know:  "...not a sparrow falls..." without God's notice.

A perspective moment.

Which is easier to say:  He is MY God?  OR  I am His child?  Actually, I am just one piece of His very large and very complex world.  And I am grateful that He pays some attention to me.  Is that humbling?  Is that a "lifting up"?

As I watched the millions of His other creatures stream past, we gave thanks for breakfast, and wondered a moment about our place.    In a world that proclaims loudly "it's all about ME" we need to see a parade of God's creatures, all of whom have His attention.  Then we can say, "and me, too", which does create a whole flood of gratitude.

(I feel like a "doxology" - - - - you might want to hum one, just all by yourself.  Good thing for us to do!)

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

The Man at the Door

Dark already.  The house sits 150 yards from the street, among the trees.  Only one neighbor past, at the end of the street, with just the woods beyond.

The door-bell rings.  No car in the drive, just a man standing in the middle of the porch.  Disheveled and wet from running, long and hard.  Wants to use the phone to call his mother.

Man of the house engages the visitor in non-threatening conversation, through the glass of the closed door, while wife and children move to the far end of the house and call 911.    He's confused, knows that the pharmaceutical companies are all out to poison him;  but he got away.  He ran from the mental hospital 20 miles away, ran all the way, through the woods, exhausted now.

The police come up the long drive quickly and quietly, no lights, no siren.  They've been looking for the man for two hours.  It seems he was used to being cuffed and put in the back seat.  No resistance, just resignation.  All went quietly.

He was non-threatening, confused, scared, tired, but no one wanted to deal with all the bad potential that was on that porch.  Police took him back to the hospital.  Drama done.

There's an old, trite saying:  "problem people are people with problems", and we'll never know what his was.  He was handled kindly, the police handled him professionally, no harm was done.

But in the quiet of the early morning hours, a little girl is still wide awake, not so much frightened as just on edge, realizing that living out of sight does not mean isolated safety.  She'll grow from it, but her world is a little rougher now than it was before.  She's seen what she didn't know was there in the dark woods.

Blessings to all who take away the fear from children in the night.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Ah, Innocence

Such an innocent question.  As the new pastor in the first Sunday in a new appointment, meeting the afternoon youth group came at the end of a long day.  I was invited to meet with the youth, have some get-acquainted time, some face to face time.

We sat in a big circle.  It got very quiet.  Then a girl asked a question (she had prepared for the moment!) and everyone got totally quiet for the answer.  It was transparent that this was, for someone, THE QUESTION, and somehow, for me, the TEST QUESTION.

"Do you believe in the devil?"  Total silence.  48 eyes focused on me, waiting.  Now, this was a unique moment in youth ministry!

I paused, and responded:  "Do you?"

"Well, ya!  Of COURSE I do!  Why do you think I'm being good?????"

Cause and effect is fascinating, when it comes to deciding "whether or not to be good", isn't it?  It took a while to get all the content out of that loaded, first Sunday question.  But we had fun and built friendships doing it.

Oh, and the girl actually found ANOTHER reason for being good!  The love of Jesus out-ran the fear of the devil.  Always does.  Every time.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Monsignor

Our Catholic friends have this fine word for it.  I met a Monsignor Friday night at the Community Theater presentation of "The Greatest Christmas Pageant Ever".  It was the night when the young, red-haired "angel of the Lord" showed a hint of her future in theater with a fine first-time performance.

As I visited with Monsignor, he reminded me that it was a fine title for retirement, but it only meant the title was retired.  He was busy every weekend, somewhere.  Sounded a bit like my preferences, with a splendid title.  I've often said I flunked retirement, but that's not so dignified.  It's not any different in terms of personal mission, just less dignified.

It was nice to meet something of a kindred spirit.  Travel is fun, something of a "free schedule" is fun, and my Bucket List is long, long, long.  But nothing is so good as coming to the end of the day knowing that good things happened on your watch.

Today: one sermon delivered, fellowship with choristers between services, singing with orchestra in a cantata (and a minor solo shared with two other guys), one baptism, a nursing home communion service (two served individually outside of the service), and a visit in a hospice room.

Retirement?  Sure, I'm interested, as long as I get to keep my involvement with the life-stories and personal histories of God's children.  THAT is where my heart gets fed, after all.  It's hard to REALLY retire and still get the blessing of doing all that.

A friend used to say:  "May you be so involved in faith's journey with Jesus that you die in the middle of your tactics."  Not a bad wish for any of us - may you be useful for the entire journey, every moment of it.

It's been a good day.  The same for you, I pray.

Blessings.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Poverty and Potato Chips

Home-made potato chips.  Use a peeler, skin and shave the potato down, deep oil and a basket, and you've got a production line going.  It felt like we had to be kinda poor at that moment, making your own potato chips, but my dad loved it!  Actually, we were poor, with him back in college.

Today, I enjoyed potato chips with lunch, the paid-for kind.  $3.99 for 8 1/2 ounces of nutritionally correct, very good potato chips.  Not better than Dad's, but very good.  Let's see, that adds up to $7.51 per pound!  Really?

How much potato can I buy for $7.51 - - 10 pounds, 15 or 20 on sale, maybe.  Gee, am I RICH enough to pay $7.51 per pound for processed potatoes?  What else could I get for that money?  You do the math, but for that money, I could get a pre-cooked rotisserie chicken, a can of beans, and a small loaf of bread;  or a pound of potato chips.

Got me to wondering if, just maybe, Dad wasn't on to a good idea.  Maybe our delight in processed foods is a luxury.  Maybe.

Next time you feel impoverished, to some degree, remember what we all feel comfortable spending, without a second thought.  And think about those uncounted millions of people who live on less than $1 per day.

Usually, there's not much to reflect on, just in a potato chip.  But, sometimes.........

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Grass Widow

His mother was a widow.  That was "the story" all his life, and he had never known his father.  He went to work in the state Capitol in Austin as a page for a Senator at age 12, grateful for a job and an income just before the Depression hit.

Walking one day between the statues and the old artesian well on the Capitol front lawn, he saw a man approach.  It was a surprising greeting:   "How's Laura and Sallie?  And how's Nell?"  Dad said he was surprised, and asked the stranger how he knew those three sisters, his aunts and his mother.  "Oh, I just do.  Used to travel through East Texas a lot.  Fine ladies, those three."  They exchanged a few more pleasantries, there were questions about his life ambitions,  the man shook his hand and wished him well, and walked away.  He never introduced himself at all.

On the next trip home, Dad asked Laura and Sallie, and his mother, Nell, about the conversation.  They looked nervously at each other, and then the story emerged.  Nell was not exactly a "widow".  She was what was called a "grass widow", where the husband just left.  Everyone knew Will had no plan to return to Texas, and Nell had no intention of ever leaving Bullard.  There was no formal divorce or separation, since it was clear that he had gone for good to another part of the world.  The three sisters were totally surprised that Will had come back into Texas.

The man, of course, had been Dad's dad.  The meeting in Austin was not a chance meeting, but a moment Will had planned with great (but temporary) nostalgia. Having found what he needed to know, he vanished again into whatever "far country" he wanted.

Always moving, my grandfather Will, from Tennessee, had traveled from coast to coast, finally settling in Florida.  He died at the age of 37.  Old friends later said he died of two things:  bad habits and pneumonia.

People choose their lives.  Some nest.  Some flit like a hummingbird, all motion and  no permanence.  Some lives turn out to be long and fruitful.  Some lives are short with no discernible point, and no relationships that outlive the moment.  And some women, like the "grass widow" turn out to be durable, accountable, and persistent, loving their families for a life-time, pouring energy fueled by faith into fine and honorable lives.

And what did Jesus say about all this?  I have come to bring life, and that abundant.  Grandfather, working hard to stay free from all responsibilities, never quite figured that out.  Grandmother, the "grass widow", took that seeming disability and worked past it to live a long life of love, honor and (Jesus definition) abundance.

We choose our lives.  Almost always.  And a loving God wants to help.  Will never knew.  Nell never forgot!

Dying Well In Turn

Recommending a book in a class setting, a friend brought back a memory of one who died very well, and had a powerful impact on me.

Hugh was a lead baritone soloist with The Tidelanders, Houston's BIG barbershop group.  In hospital for a "second opinion" on pancreatic cancer, there sat Hugh on a gurney.  Blue cap and matching little house-shoes, too-small hospital gown, his smile still managed a humorous dignity.   Mary Rose sat beside him and said he looked cute.  A nurse, older, experienced, a little tired, came in the small room to do routine things, just as Hugh began to sing in that magnificent voice.

"I asked the Lord to comfort me, when things weren't going my way........."

Shocked, the tired nurse decided it was time to GO, before Hugh finished the song.  She wasn't used to singing with that diagnosis.

Several days later, I had an appointment to visit.  Hugh wasn't home.  I waited.  15 minutes later, his pickup pulled in the drive way.  "Sorry I'm late - had to get a haircut!  Dr. said the chemo would cause hair loss this next week, and I do LOVE getting my hair cut."  Great, sweeping, very Southern grey hair.  Worth one more cut, just for the fun of it.

Through a variety of treatments, slowly declining, with a spirit as powerful as his voice, Hugh slipped physically, but never in personality.  Mary Rose and I stood there as he died one day.

For his funeral, the choir put his robe over his chair in the center of the choir loft, back row.  It stayed there for a year, as a vibrant memorial to one who died well, acting out exactly the New Testament covenant.

Two years later, she passed with great dignity.  For her service, piano only with no organ (it had been her instrument for years), but on the organ console, her robe and a red rose.

It was just the way disciples ought to do it.  Dying well.  Living the promise.  Marching at full tempo into the valley of the shadow of death knowing that you are also marching OUT the other side, confident in the Lord's grace.

It's good to remember.  It's good to share.  It's good to wish "the same" for you and me, when we take our turns.

Blessings.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

A Shopping Moment

Just a moment to do it - buy a mouse for grandson's new computer - no big deal.  I declined the "extended warranty" for only $5.99, asking if I could just bring it back if it didn't work.  Well, actually, no.  Only within 14 days.  And today is the 7th, so if it doesn't work, what do we do with Christmas being 18 days away, not 14.  With the manager's intervention, and lots of reluctance, I left with the mouse and a certificate.  Not much caring.  My concern was just an annoyance.

Brown's prediction?  They are soon to go the way of BlockBuster!  There was a hollowness to the whole matter.

On the way, I drove past a small mechanic shop that has been servicing and rebuilding Volkswagen Beetles for over 30 years (maybe more).  They have established themselves as reliable!  Trustworthy!  Economic stresses really don't "collapse" the fundamentals.  You live in this area, drive a Beetle, they're your friend.

Remember what Jesus said:  "...who is faithful in a little...".  In all His teachings, there is a fundamental respect for doing the deed well, honoring covenants, being trustworthy.

So many places, doing whatever job is often a matter of minimums, "just barely" attitudes, and avoiding getting caught. Life really gets so much better when we greet each day with the intention of ringing the bell, rather than just getting by.

And as a second thing, it does make excellent business sense.  The harder the times, the more we gravitate to those we really trust.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Validating an Old Parable


New species of rust-eating bacteria destroying Titanic:  a new old parable.


Jesus said it clearly:  heavenly treasures last, earthly ones don't.  Rust and moths, thieves and rot, mildew and simple loss, join to make the "things" we treasure rather fragile and vulnerable.

We easily take it for granted that shipwrecks just tend to stay down there, waiting for us to explore them at our leisure.  Not so.  The old wisdom is repeated by some of the newest studies.  Rust forms, and a specially recognized bacterium eats rust!

All that we see is passing.  Really is.  As the old saying put it, only what's done for/with Christ will last.

And that is worth thinking about when you set up your plan, isn't it?

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Sam Rayburn's Rule

"Don't stir up more snakes than you can kill at any one moment!"

Sure, it was his RULE of politics, but no one seriously believes it was ever only for politics, then or now.  Sam Rayburn, the long-serving Speaker of the House, was one of the most powerful leaders of the last 100 years.  His basic political rule works well for all of life, just from the sheer management element.

Politicians promise too much (because voters want too much).  Like the North-easterner who promised mill workers in a depressed area a full return of outsourced jobs.  Their average "former" pay:  $26/hour.  Foreign equivalent workers pay:  $3/hour.  Now that is several snakes all at once.  If you stir up all that emotion, how do you resolve it?  If you create an expectation, how do you satisfy it?  Who is it that makes water run uphill?

A college student graduates with a liberal arts degree and $200,000 indebtedness.  Now, how many snakes does THAT stir up all at once?   Best Rayburn rule for solving THAT:  don't EVER get INTO that position.

Have our cake and eat it too, and lose weight at the same time without exercise, and be a slim couch potato.  That, for some, is the multi-snake American ideal.  Won't work.  Best Rayburn rule for solving THAT:  don't try it all in the first place.

Jesus said that where your heart is, there will your treasure be.  Something comes first.  Doesn't sound like the Rayburn rule on the surface, but the two protocols are at least cousins!!!!

Don't try to life three lives at once.  Focus!

Get the one priority first, get the others after the first one is right.  Genesis to Revelation, an honorable and honoring relationship with God the Father of the Lord Jesus Christ is the FIRST one.  Get that going, and the rest flows easily.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Flagrant Crime Award

It had to be the most flagrant theft ever.  Travelers down a busy highway inside town paid no attention to the crew busily removing brick from a vacant house.  Must be a remodel, like others along the road, converted into businesses.  They paid no attention when appliances and fittings, windows and doors, were trucked away.

Then, a friend of the out-of-town owner couldn't stand the curiosity and called:  "What ARE you doing with your house?"  "Not a thing."  Oooooops.

Police investigated, found the "removed" parts stored, except those which had already been installed elsewhere.  Out of work day-laborers, who had no idea of the criminal part of the act, had provided material for a local craftsman's "other" jobs.

Human nature repeats itself, doesn't it?  Over and over again.  And it always seems like such a bright and fool-proof idea, and "we'll never get caught".

We don't talk about this much.  This is the season of the "polite and optimistic" Jesus who improves life for us and always says cheerful things.  We don't talk about the dark side of human nature.  Which means we don't bring it back to the manufacturer for renovation.  Which is what salvation means, after all.  The word is totally parallel to "making healthy", isn't it?

The most flagrant ever?  Well, until the next one.  And there will be a next one, because human nature repeats itself through new actors.  And about me?  Well, seems like confession and forgiveness is always on my agenda, and I am profoundly grateful for the patience of God.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

A Favorite Pillar and a Button

Sunday, I saw one of my very favorite "pillars of the church", as enthusiastic and energetic as ever, delighted with the celebration of the day.  And we remembered the button.

Once upon an important day (as it turned out), she taught me a lesson in accountability.  Walking down the side aisle of the sanctuary to the sacristy near the front, I noticed a button in a window sill.  Reaching to pick it up, I heard her voice:  "Don't touch that button!  That's my TEST button."

Seems the custodian had been lax in cleaning.  The button had been there for six weeks, and she was counting.

Accountability is SO basic, did ya know even God has test buttons??????

You and I can smile and laugh as we sweep (sometimes energetically) things under the various rugs of life.  But God looks under the rugs, too!

If we are first of all accountable to Him, why not just confess, repent, welcome his gracious forgiveness and start over.  After all, THAT is His idea of how it oughta go!

When Mission Matures in Cote d'Ivoire

A missionary goes to uncharted territory, and there is a dramatic sense of doing God's will.  When God has time to work in that mission, the result is phenomenal.  And what does it look like to say:  "Every child is a child of God, and should be given every opportunity to learn, grow, and become all that God created them to be."

It looks like Ivory Coast, Africa.  17,000 students are part of the United Methodist School System of Cote d'Ivoire.  Our annual conference partners with theirs.  49 schools offer elementary and kindergarten classes.  (In our partnership, $600 scholarships a child for a year.  Texans have selected 65 children for scholarships this year, and half are funded.)

We still have over 600 full-time missionaries working around the world.  But Cote d'Ivoire is now a strong, growing, serving conference composed of large churches in cities and small rural churches.  (We partnered with the NBA and Cote d'Ivoire Conference to carry out the "Nothing but Nets" anti-malaria program.)  We are grateful to be able to honor leaders and pastors who grew up in that nation, and now lead a vibrant church.

And for the children, we know what eagerness-to-learn looks like in the face of a child;  we who have much also have an opportunity:  For a Child  If this moves you, and you follow through, let me know.  It will be an encouragement.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Write Your History Well

The Tyler paper on Monday published material on an historical marker remembering Tomas Pollard.  Among his contributions to our area is a very personal one with great impact on my family.

When he prepared to go to the Senate in Austin, he asked permission of my grandmother in Bullard to take her son, Ellwood, to Austin as his page.  The session and the people had a profound impact.  After the legislative session ended, my father remained in Austin, having gained a life-long fascination with history and political science.  He was quite proud to show us the photo of his group of pages from that session.

By the age of 15, he was writing for a newspaper in Austin.  He had his own apartment, and was self-supporting in the Depression years which saw so many out of work.  After WWII's service in the U.S. Navy, his fascination with history took him for two degrees from Sam Houston, and into the doctoral program at the University of Texas.

As an honor student there, he was quick to give credit for his introduction to the greater world outside of his very small home-town, and to the world of learning, to that experience serving as page to Tom Pollard.  The man was a public servant with a very long reach, and it is good to see him honored.

All of us stand at the very "present" end of a line of influences and impressions left by people who have cared about us.  And the history which we write is absolutely just as important as the history we have received.  

May you write well today!

Sunday, November 28, 2010

A Holy Place Restored

Church arsonists, for whatever reasons, burned churches in East Texas some months ago.  Today, one was re-dedicated.  Russell Memorial United Methodist Church in Wills Point had a dedication Sunday this morning.  A packed sanctuary, restored to be one of the most beautiful anywhere, was overflowing.  With God's help, a congregation had rebuilt their worship house.  We celebrated, lifted Bibles and hymnals in dedication, asked God to bless again the Baptismal font and Altar, and heard words of promise about being useful to God.

For the congregation, for the former pastors gathered, for everyone, it was a powerful experience.  A few months ago, a congregation stood on a bare slab, cleaned off after the burning.  They said, "Here is where we meet God together, dedicate our children, make covenants, and memorialize loved ones.  We meet God here, and the place should be beautiful."  Today, it was, with the promise that it will be, from now on.

The meeting with God and His congregation is life's most important business.  We need to be there.  It shapes us.  And there is a simple insight and commitment:  the place where this happens should be honored by being the best and most beautiful that we can provide.

Today, I watched a congregation I once served, say that.  They dedicated a place for a future of many years, to be a place prepared for meeting with God.  The place, and the process, was beautiful to share for a moment.  It was today's gift from God.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Reality Check

Oops!  Sometimes that reality check can make an impression!

A student pilot crossed an invisible line, into Washington, D. C., where he was "notified" and escorted away by a pair of fighter jets!  There are protected areas.  When my son interned in D. C., I asked him about the "homeless" in Lafayette Park, across from the White House.  Aren't some of them the same all the time?  Are some of those really Secret Service in disguise?  What IS under the canvas on the roof of the White House?

There are some border-lines we protect.  Every individual has some, every family.

Friends have done the "Financial Peace University" program lately, with Dave Ramsey.  There are some debt-levels you just can't safely enter.  Those borders ought to be marked with red tape.  Some clear line, so that the boundary is so visible just when the spending urge hits.  Ah, but the friendly credit cards make those lines disappear, don't they?

Now, when government debt is soaring, state spending is in crisis because it can't really do deficits, and personal debt across the nation rises to an all-time high, maybe we just crossed a line somewhere.  Maybe.

But there aren't any fighter-jets to warn us back.  Just that little voice that says:  "If you're in the hole, quit digging."  And if we miss the signal?  There's a significant thump as one, or more, of the systems just quit functioning.

Is there a way out?  Well, Jesus says quite a lot about this.  Where your heart is, there will your treasure be.  Do not put your trust in princes or chariots (power, money, and military strength).  And on almost every page of the New Testament.  He doesn't yell, but He does tell us the truth.

He got it right.  Do we listen?

Monday, November 22, 2010

Taking Your Christmas Temperature

What's the reading?  What makes you happy?  Is the usage of the word CHRISTMAS a key element?

What says Christmas?

Is this issue really all about how retailers market the season?  It this cause for joy?  Or have we just moved another notch into the complete commercialization of the thing.

Christmas is about:  _________________________________.  You fill in the blank, but the point is that it is NOT about marketing.  Somehow, the more times the word CHRISTMAS is linked to "buy stuff" the less content it has, and certainly the less persuasive it is.  The Lord of Christmas once said He had nowhere to lay His head, among other denials of the virtues of conspicuous consumption.

So, am I delighted that we'll have "Merry Christmas" instead of "Happy Holidays" this year?  Oh, not so much one way or the other.  Being pre-empted for advertisements doesn't exactly bring honor to Jesus.

But, then, that's just my opinion.  Yours?

A Hug From L.B.

Big man on a mower, it wasn't his usual place.  He worked the dock, inside the warehouse, handling huge loads, but a back problem sent him to a new job.  Lay Leader in his church, just a few blocks from the port, L.B. was a good friend.

As I walked across the big lawn to the Seafarer's Center, L.B. drove his mower right to me, got off, walked to me and wrapped an arm around me in a huge hug.  "L.B., what's this?  We're not huggy, are we?"  He said:  "See those two boys there?"  The two "boys" were in their 20's, body-builders, looking a bit on the rough side.  "Wave at 'em, now!"  They waved back and smiled.

"They're gang guys.  They won't give you ANY trouble now, though."  L.B got back on his mower, and went back to cutting grass.  He had sent a message to some rough friends, and from that day forward, they were friendly, polite, easy-going.

Strong messages can be sent and received in the mildest manner.  But, I suspect the two "boys" knew L.B. was not always gentle, if the need arose.  And they knew he would never back away from anything.

Gentle strength, quiet messages, still convey meanings in a world where too many are shouting and too few are thinking.  Maybe that's a gift from God.  Maybe that's part of what it means to follow Jesus.  And maybe you've had a friend stand by you.  Give thanks.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

The Point

There's a new category recently:  tipping point.  It's that moment when you're going along, each stimulus getting the same reaction, then suddenly it reverses.  Survival issues, environmental issues, relationship issues, health issues, idea issues all show "tipping points".  In our personal life, we have those.  After many, many "whatevers" happen, we get to the point when we just don't want to accept "whatever" anymore.

News people say we've found another one:  TSA backlash is happening very quickly.  The search business that was tolerable last month has hit a tipping point.  Whatever the arguments pro or con, that "point" becomes an event.  Whether or not the tipping point obscures the process and the reasons for it will be a very public decision.

Our faith comes into play at those idea or ethical or experienced points when we've just had all we can tolerate of something.  The patience of Job, or whoever, is a helpful phrase, for we do admire those who cruise through situations that break the resolve, or the patience of those all around.  Poets have celebrated that quality for generations.  "...if you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs, then....." for one.

Whether it is environmental or behavioral, a TSA screening or a person's behavior, the faith of a Christian is often tested, and always shows itself, by calmness in that tipping point.  In this case, whatever the irritation, we will NOT let the terrorists win and destroy by disruption.

Today's International Lesson Series was on Psalm 91.  Within the purposes of the covenant, sustained by God for His purposes (and not necessarily for our comfort) we are expected, even in tipping point moments, to calmly (by grace) maintain a thoughtful and servant posture.

A wise man once said, in the midst of all sorts of trials, may your faith set your goals, your heart set your strategy, and your clear mind set your tactics.  Then, keep faith.  And this blessing:  may your personal end come in the midst of your tactics, faithful.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Few Words, Strong Faith

Walking by, he stopped to talk a moment.  Talked about his life changes, wife's illness.  Turning to go, he said:  "Pray for us.  Her name's Jane.  Jesus knows her well."

Now THAT is an affirmation.  Short words that affirm deep faith.  Tremendous invitation to pray.

Jesus know you well?

Artist and Healer

One of my white stoles is silk on one side, linen on the other.  It was a gift, and the artistic creation, of a very special pediatrician in Houston.  Dr. Nora ..... discovered that her practice in the Medical Center was prospering.  She opened a second office in a very poor Hispanic section of Houston, and divided her work week, caring for many who just could not pay.  Very busy, she also found time to craft beautiful silk and linen paraments for her church.  When she delivered them, she said:  "The altar cloths are for the church, and these stoles are for the other ministers to use. This one is for you to keep;  take it with you when the Bishop moves you."

Her work is a witness to me every time I use that stole.  There are other artist/healer witnesses, too.  One appears in today's Upper Room devotional, written by an eye doctor in India, re-telling Jesus' invitation to children and a child-like trust in Him.  She sees those ancient children, repeated,  in the ones in front of her every day.

I'm grateful today for doctors who serve:  surgeons who work in mission hospitals, physicians who develop trusting friendships in the slums to bring people away from modern shamans to modern medicine, for Bethesda Health Clinic in Tyler where the working poor are served, and for the enormous charity work done by local hospitals.  And I am thankful for so many specific faces in personal memory along this line.

Jesus' children who come to him in open trust, always express a reflection of that trust in caring for others.  What an enormous blessing pours out of that trust, fresh for some child today and every day.

Do you have someone in mind?  Thank and encourage them.  (and let me know;  I'd love to know their story)

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Kin-Folks

It's in the news:  Prince William's Kate (fiancee) has famous relatives in the US.  George Washington, George Patton, Meriwether Lewis, are among the cousins (up to 13th cousin 3 times removed, whatever that is!).

I, on the other hand, have no relatives of note.  National Geographic advertised a program to trace my "deep" ancestry (not genealogy) for only $99.  For such a fee, I expect them to skip any horse thieves they encounter along the way, but that would only tell me what continent my ancient ancestors inhabited.

Breaking out of genealogy, I have been informed on good authority that I am the adopted child of the Creator of the Universe.  Somehow, that trumps being a 13th cousin to most anyone, seems to me.  And the adoption line is still open, by the way, in case you're interested.  But, then, you probably already knew all this.

Aren't there wonderful things on our thanksgiving list?  Jesus first.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

My Personal Wounded Warrior

Ross was 6'4"and skinny, wore jeans that were about 28 waist and 36 length, and was the most amazing dog man that I ever knew.  He could find a stray dog along the road, connect and communicate within 5 minutes, and the dog was "his".  Stunning to watch those first five minutes, wondering how he could do that.

Ross was, not so long ago,  45 going on 17.  Never grew up.  Almost got a court-martial in Viet Nam for adopting animals.  Decided once to be a rodeo clown, until hiding behind a gate at bull-riding time meant that the gate rolled back on his new boots and 7X hat!

Carpenter, electrician, welder, on and on and on, but never kept a job.  Even a police officer once, which was a bad idea for law enforcement.

Ross was a little wounded before he went to war.  When he came back, no one really paid any attention that his mental state was totally out of range.  No violence, ever.  But Ross was the eternal gypsy, never made a commitment, never grew up.  One after another, he checked himself in to Veteran's hospitals, always realizing that psychiatric help was the answer, but never connecting with it.

And when he died at 55, Ross was still a teen.  All of us in the family loved Ross.  None of us knew how to help.

Thank God that He loves the odd ones among us, the ones that never produce, never connect, never learn to love.  No one else could reach Ross.  God could.

Thank God for it all!

Credible

If it is all about and only about "books", then most of us aren't really interested.  If it gets to be about people, better.  About people close and personal, it reels us in.

Radio interview today, with the author of "When the Danube Ran Red", a Holocaust story.  At first, arms' length, honestly.  Except for September's experience:  three brass squares in a Regensburg, Germany sidewalk, marking the house where three generations of Jews were taken out to the camps.

And even that remains a bit distant, were it not for a personal experience almost 40 years ago.  I was a port chaplain, visiting an ocean-going tug that was the most amazing piece of machinery I'd ever seen.  It had come to tow a semi-submersible drilling rig to the North Sea.

As we went into the machine shop on board, I just asked the Captain:  "What's your story?"

He said nothing, just reached over and pulled up his left sleeve, to the elbow, revealing a crudely done black set of numbers:  Auschwitz numbers.  Eyes met.  Quiet moment.  Real story.  The aura of one of the toughest men I ever met.  A man who could walk the tough streets, and cause a street gang to back away with a look.

As history becomes more bookish for new generations, it's normal for "deniers" to arise, for whatever purpose.  But for those who connect in personal ways, personal relationships, personal realizations, there is no denial that actually persuades.  Real life wins the debate.

2000 years ago, the Word became flesh.  It's denied.  Book knowledge won't cut it.  Personal experience validates the book knowledge (theologians and poets say it better) and there you have the abundant life.  It never has been anything less, and there is nothing in the world better.

Christmas is coming.  Forget the tinsel and bows.  Get credible with the Man.

Blessings.   B

Wounded Warrior Outcast

Bob came to church every Sunday, but he didn't come in.  His old friend Gerald was the head usher, so Bob just  stuck his head in the door, waved at Gerald, and handed him a $5 bill.  Sometimes he'd slip into the foyer just long enough to hear the sermon, sometimes not, but always unseen, except by Gerald.  He knew his old friend would be waiting there for him.  Gerald didn't come into the sanctuary on any Sunday until Bob had made his visit.

A 1950 high school graduate, the annual listed him as both best-dressed and most likely to succeed.  Bright, and with family wealth behind him, he was set for college and career.  Korea came, and Bob went.  Bob came home stuck in a crippling mental disorder.  Shell-shocked.  No help available.

Healthy otherwise, with more money than he needed, Bob just existed.  Always dressed in the same sport coat and slacks, stained and soiled beyond belief, but hand washed at home.  A tie that had to be at least 40 years old.   Ancient shoes wrapped in duct-tape.  Shaggy hair, driving a 20 year old Ford.

I saw his car at the burger place one day, mid-afternoon, and went in to visit with him.  He was enjoying a burger.  We were the only customers, and the entire staff stared at us, wondering why in the world I was having a conversation with "that man".

Bob never asked for anything, lived almost like a walking-around-hermit, in the house of his parents in an older part of town.  He never missed a Sunday, and, in my experience, proved to be approachable only that one time. His only true link to the rest of the world was his friend, Gerald.

I am positive that God delights in Gerald!  And every one who does the same thing, reaching into the "fog" where one of God's children lives isolated, never letting go, and providing just one link.  Thank God for the "Geralds" around us.

Monday, November 15, 2010

When Tulip Goes Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Our family in the Pacific Northwest bought some rural property, with two other families.  Beautiful place, it already had a garden, and some fruit trees, but no chicken house.  Son-in-law, a fine re-modeler, promptly built what has been called a "five-star-chicken-house", excellent in every way.

Spring came on, and the grandchildren bought (more or less, their parents did help) some baby chicks.  Of course, little girls want to name chicks.  Flower names, they chose.  Their favorite was Tulip.  Chicks grow.  Soon it was time to move them out to the chicken house and yard.

All chickens are not created equal, and it soon became apparent that Tulip was not going to lay eggs!  Tulip was, in fact, a rooster.  And he'll tell you all about it, frequently, loudly, and early.  Which is fine!  If my grand-daughters name their rooster Tulip, who am I to complain.  They are among my favorite people in the world.

Life goes like that sometimes.  Lovable folks name and define things, and we just go along.  Even if we end up with a rooster named Tulip.  That's just fine.  And sometimes lovable folks, who really don't have any idea about what they are defining, put us in some strange positions.

I often remember, and chuckle to myself at appropriate times, the old vaudeville disclaimer:  "I'm not a doctor, I never went to a real medical school, but I did hang around drug-stores a lot when I was a kid."  It helps when someone speaks so authoritatively about medical matters, of which they have no actual knowledge.  At all.  Not that I do, but often I'm really sure the self-assured diagnoses, often of someone never even met personally, are certainly among the more non-helpful things in life.  Especially when we lift those definitions up to God in prayer, to the One who is not mystified by anything medical, to say the least.

Now, I can smile, and simply whisper to myself:  "Tulip!"  and if it just continues interminably, I can keep smiling and whisper to myself:  "Vaudeville doctor!"  And smile.  And try to be helpful.  And not criticize.  After all, God loves us even when we get it wrong, which is most of the time, at best.

Everybody needs a little smile-generator like that, if you set out to be a real and helpful friend.  It really helps!

Smile - - - and be a blessing.

Learn Something Every Day

Just out of seminary, I was excited about a new book one day, and mentioned it to my senior pastor.  His reply?  "I'm solid, don't need it!.  I don't read new books anymore!"

Well, that sure closed a door!  He remained an admired friend for lots of other reasons, but that closed off a whole area of life.

I like scanning blogs.  I'm a follower of one photography blog that features abandoned hotels and amusement parks.  I'm a follower of one that has a huge discussion spin-off:  http://rachelheldevans.com.  Today's is a provocative question about God's care for Anne Frank.  I write three, and enjoy reading several.  Always something new to learn EVERY day.  And I appreciate the responses to this little instrument, you know.

I like teaching, because students and other participants always bring a fresh insight.  And I thrive on preaching, because it is so much more of a conversation than most people think.  There is NO sermon in which I don't LEARN, from the spoken and visual responses that occur in the moment.  Those responses bring the Word to the speaker at least as clearly as to the hearer.

In fact, all of the community that God has built is a blessing to all of us.  And the more you look around, the more blessed you feel.

Thank YOU for being one who reads and discovers.  Blessings on your day.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Bread Truck Reminder

"Aroma Therapy" said the sign on the side of the Mrs. Baird's truck.  Great reminder of driving into Dallas, turning off Central toward SMU, and being enveloped by the aroma from Mrs. Bairds!  Now THAT was aroma therapy.

Early mornings at Lamar in Beaumont, marching band first thing in the morning, downwind from Texas Coffee Company, roasting the good blend early in the day.  THAT was aroma therapy!

Sights and sounds and smells are special blessings.  They don't do much for survival, except in specific instances, but to enhance the day, to stretch the mind, and to bless the heart, they are superb gifts.

Isn't there a lot that's worth a fine "thanksgiving", just in the ordinary days we take for granted?

Friday, November 12, 2010

The Prayer Guy

Some days he just springs into my mind.

I guess he was my favorite in-law.  In assisted living quarters,  the entire staff would come by, one by one, to have prayer with Ervin.  One soon volunteered to serve as a door-opener to the nursing home area, where he'd visit room after room, just for prayer time.

A journeyman welder, pipe-fitter, boiler-maker, and the senior pipe bender at Texas Pipe in Pasadena, Ervin pre-fabbed the last "new" refinery built, at the end of a long career.  His "Pipebender's Bible" is a staple in the union hall.  But  his life as a Bible-teacher and prayer warrior was his real legacy.

As a pastor, I'm often asked how we can lift up "so and so" and their legacy.  It is a wonderful thing to HAVE a legacy to lift up, which isn't all politeness and "froth".

During Ervin's funeral, I paused somehow longer than I intended (this frog suddenly sprang up in my throat) after asking:  "And what could we hear him say from across the river today?"  From the back of the room came the answer (his hallmark phrase) I had been intending to speak :  "Just right!"  Then laughter and folks repeated his slogan with a smile.  Through the valley of the shadow of death, with a smile and a "just right!"

That's a legacy!

How's life going?

After prayer:  "Just right!"

Most times, that's enough said.

Faith and Flu

Flu season was full speed.  Lots of it was "going around".  Sunday noon came, I was shaking hands at the door, when a man walked up to me, grabbed my hand.  His other hand gripped my shoulder as he stepped close.

"Preacher, I'm just barely going, but this flu isn't keeping me at home, no sir!"

I wondered whether or not to thank him.  But it does raise a rather self-answering question:  "When IS it good to stay home from worship?"

Sometimes loving our neighbor means keeping our distance, rather than complicating life's issues.  And that's always a hard one, isn't it?  Not so much hard to answer when the issue is clear, but hard to calculate when we seriously do try to love our neighbor.

Jesus said we are to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.  That has to be one of the biggest challenges He ever laid out!

Thursday, November 11, 2010

The Yellow Rose Wedding

The man rushed into my office in Navasota.  "You the preacher?"  he asked. I nodded and he quickly asked, "Got boots?"  I nodded, and he was so relieved!  (and I was so curious.)

He launched into the story.  The marriage was to take place in two days and the minister was very ill.  Could I do it?  Oh, probably.  Would I wear the boots?  Sure, but now I was totally curious.

The scene played out well.  We gathered on the front porch of the long-abandoned Masonic lodge building in Plantersville, TX, an almost empty old cross-roads town.  An enormous Texas flag was draped to form the backdrop, cascades of yellow roses were on the columns, and the bridal party rolled up in wagons.  The preacher DID wear boots.  The wagon train rolled out after the ceremony, headed to a backwoods barbecue reception.

Happy people, having fun, with almost all the symbols flipped beyond recognition.  Like lots of folks, the priority list was totally garbled.

1.  Preacher wears boots.
2.  Do this on the front porch of a now abandoned house of honorable commitments.
3.  Yellow roses everywhere - - true to the song, but not really.  (The "yellow rose of Texas" was actually a high-yellow mulatto camp follower that Sam Houston sent to "entertain" Santa Anna during his siesta time, causing General Santa Anna to be totally distracted and surprised by the Texian attack.)

It was probably the happiest, most "mixed signal" celebration ever.

Sometimes we take great and powerful poetry and symbols (often Old Testament stories and American history) and re-present them in a way the originals would never recognize.  Which may not amount to anything earth-shaking, except that it cheapens and dumbs down our greatest treasures into decor and window dressing.  In this case, a couple's highest commitment was wrapped in pretty shabby choices.  The wrapping took center stage, distracting from their own promises.

I wondered why they didn't have a simpler celebration that focused on high and honorable commitments, or even on the love they probably shared with each other.

I bet God wonders why we all do that kind of thing, over and over.  Of course, it doesn't HAVE to be that way, if we choose.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

It Really Is There

For a long time, I believed that the Nielsen ratings were a "figment", but then.................

Aha, I'm in!  I actually have a TV diary to complete, send in, and obviously make great changes in TV programming.   Well, probably not, but at least it is real.

Sometimes folks mistake Christian FAITH for believing the unbelievable, and that causes a great deal of stress.  But, the whole witness of the Bible is that God acts in human history, and faith is a matter of TRUST, not simply blind belief.  Credible witnesses, personal experience, the "warmed heart", the guidance of the Holy Spirit in understanding the Word, recognizing that God shares Himself with us in so many ways, all of these build trust in our hearts.

Great comfort in that, I find.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

The Lost Memorial

The historical marker stood on US 69, north of Lindale, Texas, just where the old highway met the new one.  Just before the road got to the Sabine River bottoms, there was a marker.  Then  one day it was just gone, the post sawed off at ground level, and now the entire site has been included in the re-paving work on the highway itself.

I saw it one day, and resolved to bring a camera on the next trip down the road.  When I did, I found the cut pipe post, and the marker gone.

What had it memorialized?  the area just west of the highway was a rather level field, where a small "force" had gathered, spent the night, and made an early morning attack to wipe out an Indian group camped somewhere a few miles to the west.  The historical marker had the old language of the Indian wars.  Which someone, unknown, decided it was time to stop remembering.  And so, the marker disappeared.  I wondered for a long time if it would come back. It seems gone for good.

Time does that.  A grand old idea becomes a bit of an embarrassment, and history is edited.  When we traveled in Europe this fall, we found Germans that were passionately and totally angry at Hitler.  Hitler's Mein Kampf is no longer a legal document in Germany, only graduate history students can buy a copy.  Hitler's monuments are preserved only as lessons on what NOT to do as responsible citizens.  Concentration camps are preserved as penitent reminders of horror.

Perhaps God uses the passage of time to let us get our history straight, to drop the old embarrassments of human nature, and to make a fresh start.  It seems a slow process, but it does move us forward, perhaps in His own good time.