To Hear Our Children Call Out, "Papa!"

“And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act, says the Lord.”
Ezekiel 37:13-14 NRSV
For several years now I have had the extreme pleasure of hearing it, of being the recipient of it, of savoring it, of cherishing it every time our granddaughter, Cailin, said it: “Papa!” With that one simple word, she extends her arms up towards me with the clear and expectant desire that I should pick her up and kiss her, twirling her around in such a way that the world stops spinning around us. Ah, the wonders of being a grandfather!
But, yesterday, something new happened. Our youngest granddaughter, Ava, did the same thing she had observed her older sister doing. She held up her arms to me and said, “Papa!” With a whoop of delight I scooped her into my arms and twirled her around till she giggled and I nearly dizzily fell (Children are soooo much better at the spinning than adults!). Ava made my day in the same way the rising sun warms the Springtime earth, just by toddling towards me, arms held open wide and voice finding joy and expectancy in saying, “Papa!”
Then I wondered, ‘Can it be any less exciting for God than it is for me?’ Every time a child holds their arms up to God, every time a child trusts their happiness and welfare to God, every time a child looks into God’s face and without doubt or hesitation says, “Papa”, can God be any less full of happiness? Can God be any less full of laughter?
There are so many ways that we live each day exempting God from our journey: Prayers without meaning; Choices without prayer; ‘I can do it’ attitudes; Belligerent, foot-stomping tantrums of self-certainty; Lack of hospitality for the stranger right next to us; Trust in tradition over seeking the movement of the Spirit; Religious fervor without regard to the actual need of faith; and the list goes on and on. Yet, God remains faith-full, standing at the threshold of our heart’s home, listening closely for that moment when, out of the blue, we turn to God, hold up our arms and say, “Papa!”
For moments such as this, the grave is opened. For moments such as this, the dry bones come together. For moments such as this, hope overcomes despair. For moments such as this, the Spirit comes into our lives and nothing remains the same. In God’s grace and love, we are given a home not built with human hands and the land yields a bounty of joy inconceivable in human imagination.
“ . . . then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act, says the Lord,” are more than just words at the end of a prophetic text. They are the embodiment of life breathed, promises fulfilled, and decisive action taken on our behalf, all that we might know the wonder of God . . . twirling us around in the midst of the stars with Child-like giggling filling the heavens.
“Papa” is the apocalyptic pronouncement of God’s people coming home for the very first time all over again – and the Spirit’s affirmation that there is Good News to share in every age. Thanks be to God for a granddaughter’s innocent glee!
Your servant in Christ,
Pastor Don

Memorial Day

The first thing I noticed driving into my hometown yesterday were the flags. On every power pole, on every block, at about a forty-five degree angle beginning at about six feet off the ground, was stationed 'The Stars and Stripes' or, more appropriately stated, an American Flag. Approximately three feet by four feet in size, the flags along the mile of Main Street which is Marissa, Illinois, were an impressive reminder of the reason for the celebration, which was Memorial Day. Driving through town, hurrying to make it to the Memorial Day Service being held in the Marissa Cemetery at the Veteran's Memorial, all of the flags passing by my windows in rapid succession, first some on the left, then some on the right, got me to thinking about the lives, dreams, and visions they represented.

Are there enough American Flags flown in the United States of America on Memorial Day to signify every person who has died in defense of our country? Can there ever be enough? I was a History major in college, but never thought of it this way. If you began counting from the time the United States was being settled by the immigrants, not to mention the Native Americans whose lives were lost defending the land against the invasion and aggression of the immigrants, how many people's lives have been lost in defense of our country? Can we ever really know? How many lives are lost yearly in covert operations whose code names and assignments we can only imagine? And what of the lives lost in support of those who do battle, those whose places in the annals of history are in places like a coal mine in Marissa, a farm field in Darmstadt, or a factory in Belleville? Are there enough flags to go around?

Pulling into the cemetery, I quickly realize the service has begun early due to impending inclement weather, so I bring my car to a quiet stop not too far away, and walk up just in time to hear my father-in-law complete the Invocation. Following his prayer he introduced the keynote speaker, the Mayor of Marissa, Jerry Cross, who is an old friend of mine from my High School years. Jerry spoke on many of the 'traditional themes' of Memorial Day, but the one thing that most caught my attention was when he said, "I have never worn a uniform in defense of my country, but my son has served in the United States Marines." He then went on to detail how his appreciation of what is offered up for our liberties, what is suffered for our freedom, and what is endured for a lasting legacy of the pursuit of happiness, has greatly deepened because of what his son and his Marine comrades have taught him.

Hmmmmm. It is not the number of flags you fly, but that you fly the flag. It is not that every life is marked with a flag, but that every flag is marked with life.

As Jerry completed his comments and the Honor Guard fired their salute, the trumpet sounded 'Taps', allowing the notes to drift across the marble of the Veteran's Memorial then out and through the graves of the saints, the soldiers whose names are etched deeper in the hearts of those attending than any stone mason could etch into tombstones. Tears flowed without shame as my gratitude for deliverance by the hands of others could find no more fitting tribute for their sacrifice. Looking up from right in front of me with eyes also flowing with tears, our granddaughter, Mary Cailin, asked me for my handkerchief. A bit surprised, but not wanting her to feel awkward, I said to her, "It's all right, Cailin, Papa's crying, too. We have a lot for which to be thankful." To which she responded, "I remember."

I remember. Every flag is a beacon, every flag is a remembrance. Every flag is a person, every flag is a nation.

If our seven year old granddaughter is capable of such remembering, maybe there is hope for the rest of us. In counting the flags, in counting the cost, in counting the lives, remember the past and become part of the future. For in failing to remember we are condemned to the past, and in failing to become part of the future we give it over to others.

My deepest thanks to all the Veterans, living and dead, whose sacrifice allows such pondering and whose love of Nation inspires mine.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

On the occasion of our youngest son's 17th birthday

In all of God's creative imagination and wisdom, children must bring to God the wry-est of smiles. My mother repeatedly said to me, "I hope your children grow up to be just like you so that you will know what you have done to me!" and, as God would have it, mothers have a way of getting just what they want . . . . . . our children and grandchildren are all perfect, each in their own way, just as is their father. (I am mentally pausing here to let the laughter subside of those who really know me.)

Today is the 17th birthday of our youngest gift of God's perfection among us, Ched, and I cannot let the day pass without saying what is on my heart to him:

My dearest Ched,

I remember the day in May, in South Bend, Indiana, when you were born. We should have known immediately what an interesting journey we were in for with you when, after cutting the umbilical cord, the nurse took you to a scale to weigh you and found you to weigh only about four pounds. The nurse knew the scale was wrong and took you to another scale to weigh you and found you to be healthy and robust at over seven pounds . . . . and you have been living by a different set of scales ever since.

Some people measure life by awards on the wall and, though surely you have already amassed a number of them, you have never been one of those who use such a measuring stick. You have always measured life by the wide diversity of friends around you, the pleasure of listening to music you really like, offering a helpful hand as needed, the pursuit of knowledge which interests you, and the accumulation of wisdom which makes you a better person in the world. Don't ever stop measuring life in such wonderful ways!

Some people believe that being the youngest in the family means that you must have had to grow up in the shadow of those who are before you. Unfortunately, people stuck in such beliefs reflect more of their own challenges than a understanding of who you are. They have never met you. You have never been one to dwell in the shadows of your brothers, you have been (and are) far too busy in the sunshine of God's Light in your life to worry about the shadows others cast. You are as intrigued by the light of the sun as you are curious about the twinkle of the stars. Your life is an undimmed expression of faith, joy and hope, all wrapped up in the tenderness of one who exercises great expectations of what God has yet to reveal in you and through you. You are your own unique light of God in our world and I simply love watching what you are doing to dispel the darkness of the present age.

Some people say that being the youngest of three boys, all who have gone through the same school system, means that you are always having to strive to be better than your brothers were in school. It brings tears to my eyes as I think on how all three of you boys have been your own person throughout your educational and extra-curricular years. As your older brothers before you, you have cut a wide swath in the educational arena, taking the hardest courses, challenging the toughest teachers, and earning the highest grades possible, not because someone else set the standard for you, but because you set high standards for yourself. Equally, on both the field of play and on the stage of group activities, you have earned the respect of advisor and teammate alike in your tenacious capacity to work hard, not only for the sake of personal growth, but for the sake of whole. You do not find it necessary to diminish others in your striving to shine, for you understand the brightness the whole of humanity might offer if everyone works together - and I am humbled by your gracious nature.

Some people say that, at 17, you have a whole lot to learn and little of substance to offer. I say that, at 17, yes, you do have a whole lot to learn, but you, my son, have a substantial wealth of maturity, faith and wisdom to offer all of the 'some peoples' in the world. You have spent 17 years in the fishbowl of a pastor's home, the parsonage or manse as some would call it, and have had to deal with more people with issues of domestic violence, death notifications, hospital emergency calls, marriage crises, non-payment of rent, need for medicine, transients, complaints about the pastor, concerns about the church, and older adults just needing someone to talk to, than anyone would ever, could ever, believe . . . . and always you have treated the ones in need with respect, love and care. Your simple acts of hospitality to the stranger have never made you better than them, but have always made you companions with them in the twistedness of life's journey and, believe me, most folk would rather have a trustworthy caring companion on the journey than all of the well-meaning substantive advice in the world.

I am so proud of you - and of who you are becoming. None of us are the finished product of what God intends in us, but you, at 17, are well on the way. Just as no race in the track meet will ever completely define you, neither will any one event or day contain all that you will become in God. What matters is how you run the race, the tenacity with which you persevere, your capacity to be a gentleman on the track as well as off, your faith in the God who is with you in every step, and your attention to those with whom you share the challenges before you.

We are blessed that you are our son, just as we are blessed with your older brothers. God has made each of you in that most peculiar and particular way which identifies you as one of God's own: Your eyes reflect God's love. On this day I am grateful for all of the basketball games, the soccer games, the track meets, the golf games, the days in the pool, the hours of talking, the projects worked on together, and the times our family has shared laughter and challenge. But, most of all, I am simply, tearfully, joyful that I am blessed, that we are blessed, to call you 'son', for like the Son before you whose actions led His Father to announce from heaven, "With you I am well pleased!" so, too, you are rising from the birthwaters to do what you are gifted to do in God's creation and that is most pleasing to me.

I love you, Ched. Happy 17th birthday!

Dad

Stephanie

“My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” II Corinthians 12.9a NRSV

Stephanie is one of those folks in your life that you can count on one hand: a friend. I use the word “is” because, like friendship itself, she will always be with me in my heart and because, like faith itself, she is a gift of God extending throughout eternity. Last week Stephanie passed from this life into life eternal following thirty years of life with Multiple Sclerosis, M.S. Multiple Sclerosis did not define Stephanie any more than did Stephanie define Multiple Sclerosis. Rather, however such things occur, Stephanie and M.S. found themselves to be traveling companions in life’s ongoing journey, a relationship through which Stephanie opened the door for God to embody grace and strength in midst of a world consumed with defining her life, and others like her, as either ‘a cure’ or ‘a casualty’. In Stephanie, God’s power to transform weakness into perfection had little to do with ridding her body of M.S., yet had everything to do with the sufficiency of God’s grace to shine through Stephanie’s life every day of her journey, a delineation which empowered Stephanie to be such a good friend to nearly everyone who knew her. To spend time with Stephanie was to know God is at work redeeming a sinful and difficult world – and to know that God is thus engaged in the life of humanity is to experience the fullness of God’s grace - which is sufficient to see you through any challenge, even the challenge of M.S.
I first met Stephanie twenty-six years ago when she served as one of my Supervising Teachers at Marissa High School where I did my Student Teaching while in college. Stephanie, then recently diagnosed with M.S., taught Special Education and saw her own diagnosis, not as an impediment, but as an opportunity to more intimately touch the lives with whom she worked. Understanding the importance of students to see themselves as responsible for their choices and making choices which are responsible, Stephanie modeled such choices in the manner through which she walked the walk with M.S.: Stephanie’s life would not be defined by a diagnosis, but by the God with Whom she met every challenge.
This is not to say that Stephanie was ‘perfect’, but as the Scripture proclaims, “ . . . power is made perfect in weakness.” Stephanie exercised the fullness of her humanity as she met God face-to-face and questioned God about M.S., both about her having it and in its very existence. Stephanie wrestled with her faith, not in God, but in her own capacity to see her journey through. And Stephanie pondered how such a disease could claim the capacity to shatter family ties in spite of her personal determination to keep everyone together. “Nothing is easy, but I know that God is with me always,” she would say – and I would bow my head in humble wonder as she, again, taught me what it means to be a faithful friend. Truth among friends is absolute and absolute friends are always in Truth, God’s Truth.
Stephanie’s death in this life wasn’t unexpected, but what has been a delightful lesson in faith has been in how death is overcome by life: tears are dried by laughter; grief is eased with the embrace of friends; absence is addressed by community; questions find their answers in God’s unending Presence; and Easter is announced over and over again in the perfection of a stone rolled away from the door of the tomb. True friendship lives eternally, even as Christ lives for you and me.
With the Church living towards the celebration of Pentecost at the end of May, Stephanie reminds me that God’s Holy Spirit births and nurtures grace sufficient to meet every challenge, whether it be the challenge of crowds of people who question and dispute the Good News of Jesus Christ there in the city of Jerusalem on that first Pentecost or the challenge of a diagnosis that the medical community pronounces with the solemnity of a death sentence. God’s Holy Spirit is sufficient for the words needed to speak Truth before power. God’s Holy Spirit is sufficient for the strength necessary to meet the adversaries and adversities. God’s Holy Spirit is sufficient to give grace in relationship, forming and reforming communities of intimate, trusting friendships which will endure throughout the ages. Of such Spirit is the Church birthed in power and of such Spirit has Stephanie lived her life into life eternal. May God’s power be made perfect in each of us as our imperfections live into, and depend fully upon, the grace of God for sufficiency in each moment of Pentecostal witness. Like the disciples before us in every age, the question is not whether we will have the opportunity to be a friend in Christ through Love, but rather, how we embrace in the Spirit our times of challenge to be the witness, the apostle, God intends us to be in the breath of the Spirit.
May we find it within our souls to live with the faith of Christ and the graciousness of the Stephanie’s among us, whatever our lot may be, that the Holy Spirit of God breathe life and vitality into all our days and the Church be made alive again and again in the perfection of True Friendship that comes only through Christ our Lord.
Your servant in Christ,
Pastor Don

Good Friday

I just returned from the Community Good Friday Stations of the Cross service which was attended by approximately 30 people. Granted, it was raining, and there was visitation for a prominent woman of the town who had died, and there was a funeral for another gentleman of the community who had died, and some were at yet another funeral of the father of a woman in town, and the firemen in town host a fish fry on Good Friday evening each year and were getting ready for the fry - but, I know there were not 3,500 people at all of the other events. There were 30 people who attended the Community Good Friday Stations of the Cross. 30 people.

Yet, it was in the midst of the 30 people, in the midst of the liturgy, in the midst of the "O Sacred Head Now Wounded", that it occurred to me that this Good Friday was very much like that first Good Friday on which Jesus was crucified: People were dying and dead; People were going to visitations and funerals; fund-raisers were going on around Jerusalem; market places were open and people were buying and selling; visitors to town had absolutely no idea of what was going on; and others chose just to stay at home and ignore the hubbub of the crowds. What is a 'really big thing' to devoted Christians - is just another day in the life of the world for everyone else. Jesus on the cross is pivotal only to those who recognize their need for His deliverance. Jesus on the cross is central only to the existence of those whose life and soul are intertwined with God's own will and desire for humankind. To all others . . . it is just another day in the city. Though they may all show up in three days for Sunrise Services, what already is gone is the moment which gives birth to Easter.

In retrospect, 30 people at the cross on Good Friday probably isn't such a bad turnout. Lord only knows how many others have turned and gone away from such a scene through all the intervening years. Maybe thirty is the new holy number this year, for 30 dared to stay. It is something to ponder as, in writing this article, the clock strikes 3:00 pm, the ninth hour.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Trained to Save

Nine of us spent a couple of hours training yesterday, updating our CPR and AED accreditation, keeping current in the skills helpful in saving lives. It was an afternoon which flew by quickly, partly because the material being covered and the skills being practiced kept all of us focused, but, mostly, because our trainer was interesting, fun-loving, and supportive of our efforts. Our trainer, Bobbie Duffie, is one of God's very special servants, possessing a smile so warm it is believed to contribute to global warming, and with a command of knowledge and application of wisdom that allows her to give great hope in a very troubled world.

When Bobbie walks into a room as an instructor, it is clear that she does not see 'students' in the conventional sense of the word, she sees 'life'. Bobbie has the unique capacity to see beyond young/old, rich/poor, black/white, male/female, large/small - and articulate that vision in her partnering with others to bring life to people and places in the throes of struggle. Bobbie sees God at work in God's children and embodies that insight in her approach to training: God blesses each woman, man and child with unique gifts in differing packages and it is her blessing to help folks to unwrap their giftedness for the sake of others. Is it a wonder students gravitate towards her, that people seek her out, that her life is rooted in medicine and training, that God's Life in her becomes her life breathed out into others?

It got me to thinking about Jesus as he rode into Jerusalem on the foal of an ass, as prophesied in Zechariah 9.9, and what it was that He saw as folks welcomed Him into town. Would those who loved His smile as He welcomed the children into His lap, also love the things He was about to teach them about faithfulness to God? Would those who considered themselves 'privileged' to be His chosen disciples still be so 'up' on the notion after they saw what those who hated Him would do in the days ahead? Would the ones who came running to Him for healing and insight as He walked into their villages and towns, still be running towards Him as He is is lead out of town with a cross upon His back? Would the ones who were quick to ask Him for life to be restored, be equally as quick to restore His life when once Pilate asked them who to save and whom to condemn? Would those who loved Him for His works as He touched them, still love Him for His works when the world crucified Him as untouchable?

Central to understanding Jesus as Son of God is the old cliche, "He is comfortable in His skin." 'Jesus is comfortable in His skin' is more than some erudite saying, it is the truth of His very identity: He is comfortable as God's Son, which is His only mission. He is to live in full relationship with God, no matter where He is, no matter with whom He comes in contact, no matter their response. To live so boldly and comfortably is to live the faith God has in us to walk in fullness of covenant with God. How others receive His comfort, how others receive His skin, is their choosing. Some will nail His comfort and skin to a cross, others will partake of Him and choose to walk with Him.

In comparison, CPR and AED training is seemingly far simpler, yet, upon further review, equally daunting. Bobbie embodies in training what Jesus teaches us in entering Jerusalem: You cannot be anyone else except who God created you to be. All else and all others are beyond your control. Do what you are gifted to do. As Jesus taught those with eyes to see and ears to hear what is faithful and just in walking the walk of faith before God, even unto death upon a cross, so Bobbie has been blessed to teach others how to give life when death looms near. The one major difference: It is Jesus' life which gives Life eternal. His skin given for all. Bobbie knows that and lives her life pointing to His. Maybe that is why she is so effective as a trainer: She is comfortable in her skin, living for His Life that others may have life.

It is amazing what God can do with a good teacher, especially when they live for the Teacher.

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don

Hard Questions On the Journey

““Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back.” (Mark 16:3b-4)

The question of the women on their way to the tomb is a question that seems to be reappearing in many conversations these days. “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” is being culturally translated into: Who will help me get a job? Who will help me feed my family? Who will help me with the cost of medicines? Who will help me with my rising power bills? Who will help me sort out my life? Who will help me with my parents who are aging into children? Who will help me with my children who are aging into teenagers? Who is it that cares about me, besides me? What difference does my life make any more? Which way do I need to turn to find peace? Will there ever again be the notion of security in my life? Who will roll away the permanency of dying and death that seems to encompass my living?
Three women on their way to Jesus’ tomb, on their way with spices to anoint the dead, ponder the harsh realities of their situation: None of the men ‘dared’ come out of hiding for fear of those who crucified Jesus; Women are practically invisible in a patriarchal society; Jesus is very, very dead; They had watched Hope be crucified on a cross; They had observed the victory of hatred and animosity; They knew the size of the stone, the mass of power and prejudice, which sealed the Good News of God in a tomb; They knew they could not move the stone; They knew they would have to have help; and, They knew they had to go take care of their friend. They are caught in an untenable situation: Go to take care of their friend and hope someone would help them or stay at home and allow the stench of death to consume the One they loved. They couldn’t stay at home, but neither did they have an answer as to who might be bold enough to help them.
Answers to the hard questions of faith and life are seldom found in the privacy of safe places. Just as the answer to “Who will roll the stone away . . . .” was revealed at the site of the stone and the tomb itself so, too, are the answers to the hard questions of our time most likely to be revealed while on the journey. Well we are able to name ‘death’ and the causes of ‘death’ in our lives: Joblessness, homelessness, bankruptcy, depletion of retirement investments, failure of stock market investments, the housing market, the auto market, AIG, Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac, Rod Blagojevich, Illinois Legislature, Washington D.C. politics, rising taxes, lowering services, and the list goes on and on. But, are we willing and able to journey with our Friend, Jesus, in the face of death and meet the One who rolls the stone away? Are we believing enough, maybe even doubtful enough yet seeking a wonder, to walk out the doors of the locked rooms – in which we tuck all our insecurities and ‘knowledge’ away – to seek the answers only God can give? Or are we so wrapped up and invested in the perceived ability of government “ . . . to deliver us from evil” (words of our Lord’s Prayer) that we are incapable of recognizing deliverance coming from any other source?
Not to move out of our safe places to walk with Jesus is granting unto death another victim. Not to move in extending friendship to the One who comes to deliver us is to accept the paralysis of fear as the norm for life. Not to move towards God’s resolutions in our lives, even while pondering the hardest of questions, is to give victory to a stone whose only function is to seal death in place. Get up! Move towards God’s Easter for you! Go out! And, in the midst of your questions, be ready for Good News to be delivered from heavenly places! Death is no more!

Who is rolling the stone away for you?

Your servant in Christ,

Pastor Don