The story is told of Timmy, a precocious five-year-old who told his father that he wanted a baby brother. He offered to help his father however he could. His father paused for a moment, thinking about his son’s request. He, then, said, “If you pray every day for two months, I’m sure that God will give you a baby brother.”
Timmy responded eagerly to his father’s challenge. That very night before going to bed, he prayed fervently for a baby brother. For a couple weeks, Timmy prayed with alacrity: sometimes he prayed three times a day. About the third week, however, Timmy had grown skeptical. He was convinced that his prayers were not working. He did some research around the neighborhood and found out that it never occurred in the history of the world that a boy prayed for a baby brother and then got it. So, Timmy quit praying.
About a month later, Timmy’s mother went to the hospital. When she returned home, Timmy’s parents called him into their bedroom. He walked cautiously into the bedroom not expecting to see anything. Then he saw a little bundle lying next to his mother. His father pulled back the blanket and there was not one baby brother, but two! His mother had twins!
Timmy’s father looked down at him and said, “Now aren’t you glad you prayed? Look what God gave you—two baby brothers!”
Timmy hesitated a little. He, then, looked up at his father and said, “Yes, but aren’t you glad I quit when I did.”
Indeed, prayer changes things. Chiefly, prayer changes us. How does prayer change us?
Prayer puts you in rhythm with Jesus. In John 17, we see Jesus in his role as the ascended Lord seated at the right hand of the Father. There, he has been granted the power to fulfill what he promises: Jesus promises to be present where two or three are gathered in his name; Jesus promises to be present in the Eucharist; Jesus promises to be your Good Shepherd at death.
At the right hand of the Father, moreover, Jesus is performing his high priestly role of praying. Priests pray. By virtue of Baptism, we have been ordained as priests, given such unction through the Holy Spirit. As priests, we pray together with our High Priest.
When we pray, we are in rhythm with Jesus. First, you experience rhythm with Christ when you let go and let God. You solve something without solving it by getting self out of the way. In prayer, you surrender your devices, your strategies to figure things out and entrust yourself and your petitions to Christ.
Second, you experience rhythm with Christ when you sit in silence. Christ is seated in the heavenlies at the right hand of his Father. Through faith, we have been seated with Christ in the heavenlies and experience all the spiritual blessings that Christ has to offer us as the exalted lord. Those blessings are best contemplated in silence. They are marvels that contemplation opens up to us. Prayer, then, is more than talking with God; it is also sitting in silence. “Be still and know that I am God.”
Third, we are in rhythm with Jesus, our High Priest, when we love. “God is love,” Jesus teaches. Those who love are born of God (1John 4:7).
Prayer is being in rhythm with Jesus. Caught up into the rhythm of Jesus, we change. Prayer, then, changes us. Laurel Rubalcava, the captain of the Prayer Chain, periodically texts the members of the chain inspirational thoughts about prayer. She texted one by Martin Luther that wonderfully bespeaks the rhythm of prayer. Luther said, “To be a Christian without prayer is no more possible than to be alive without breathing.”
The month of October is conducive to prayer, as it is the month of renewal. October’s orange, red and golden hues invite us to fundamentally change, so that we reflect the spiritual beauty that we are in Baptism. Getting in rhythm with Christ through prayer is key to that spiritual renewal. Moreover, significant saint days are celebrated in October: St. Luke, our namesake, St. Francis of Assisi, and St. Theresa D’Avila. And, on October 31, Martin Luther nailed his ninety five theses on the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg. They are all people who model prayer for us, prayer as being in rhythm with Jesus, our High Priest. As priests under his auspices, he follow Jesus. We do what Jesus is now doing—we pray.
Pastor's Page - September 2024
The story is told of Lee who was about to turn 60. As a birthday present, his wife bought him a new golf club, a driver in fact. This was the perfect gi for Lee, as he had played golf all his life. Immediately he went to the golf course to try out his new club. But, a er a frustra ng day on the links, Lee returned home crestfallen. “That’s it!” he told his wife, who was baking a cake for his birthday party. “I’m giving up golf. My eyesight has gone bad. I can’t see where the ball is going.” His wife responded, “Don’t give up so easily, dear. Maybe later you can take my older brother with you.” “What good is that?” Lee asked. “He’s nearly 90.” His wife responded, “He may be nearly 90, but he has perfect eyesight.”
A week later, Lee took his brother-in-law with him to the golf course. His confidence was a bit shaken a er his last experience, but he trusted his brother-in-law’s perfect eyesight. Lee teed up the ball. He inhaled a few breaths to relax; and, with a mighty swing, he hit the ball down the fairway. Excitedly, he said to his brother-in-law, “Did you see that? I felt it! What power! Did you see that?”
“Of course I saw it,” says Lee’s brother-in-law. “I have perfect eyesight!”
Still full of excitement, Lee asked, “Where did the ball go?”
The brother-in-law replied, “I don’t remember.”
One moral of the story: in the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king, except when he cannot remember. Another moral of the story: accept when one possibility ends and another begins.
God dispenses possibilities based on the choices that you make. How you handle the possibilities that God gives you can either expand life in all its beauty or contract it in all its ugliness. The choice is always yours.
Speaking of choices, my hotel in Hawaii has two views. One view is a southern view to the Pacific Ocean. The ocean is placid, beautiful, three shades of blue of water that merge with a brilliant blue sky in the horizon. The other view is a northern view of a busy street on Waikiki Beach. There are many people walking up and down the street in various states of dress. As is always the case with people, the scene is chaotic compared to the placid ocean. Yet, the bustling street is beautiful in its own right. Both scenes are ripe with the rich possibilities that God offers in every moment of our lives.
The challenge before us, then, is to see what God offers in the way of possibilities and make the proper choices that would expand life. With each new expansion of life, however, there come challenges that test our faith in Christ. We see this dynamic clearly in the Gospel of Mark.
Jesus called the disciples and they followed him. They made a choice that would forever change their lives. Every adventure with Jesus was an opportunity to grow up into the spiritual men God intended them to be. They were to be healers like Jesus. Jesus gave them authority over the unclean spirits and sent them out two-by-two to do the work he did. They were to be an extension of the ministry of Jesus. Pastors today are an extension of Jesus’ ministry of power over the demonic. They are to exert power through the name of Jesus and thereby save people from the demonic realm of the Strong Man’s house. Jesus came to bind the Strong Man, which he does on Calvary. The called ministers of Jesus are now ready to plunder the Strong Man’s house and release the captives. The power that Jesus gives the disciples to heal the sick and set free the demonically captivated is the very same power that he gives the church together with the occupants of the pastoral office. To the extent that we utilize this power, we become spiritual men and women who plunder satan’s goods. This is the great possibility that Jesus gives us, which expands life and light in people’s lives.
After Jesus had given the disciples power over the demonic, our text says that they returned to Jesus and reported all they had achieved through the name of Jesus, that the demons were subject to them. They realized a great achievement. They actualized the possibility that Jesus had given them to drive the demons out of the people and to heal the sick. Such actualization brought life and light into people’s lives. God would eventually reward their faithfulness with a greater ministry beyond the confines of Palestine.
For now, however, Jesus tells them to rest. After a great achievement, there must be rest, for they are most vulnerable to a ack. The rest would provide some distance from the people. Distance is a good thing, for, though they empathize with people’s pain, they must not make other people’s pain their own. One’s pain is one’s own responsibility. You cannot usurp another’s pain, to do so infantilizes them. Parents must learn this lesson. They cannot take possession of their children’s pain. The wise parents give wisdom and guidance to their children in their negotiation of pain. But, they never take it over. To do so is to break their children’s spirits. Everybody needs to negotiate pain to grow up into spiritually mature men and women.
The disciples taking rest is to distance themselves from the people whom they healed. Rest, moreover, is an opportunity to reflect and pray, to hear from God. In the bustle of life, it is hard to distinguish our voices from God’s voice. In the context of rest, we become adept at hearing God’s voice so we learn to recognize it, to especially recognize it in the busy times of our lives.
The rest, however, does one final thing. It prepares the disciples for the new possibility. The disciples were faithful in using the name of Jesus wherever he sent them. Now comes a new possibility based on their faithfulness that would further grow them up. What is this new possibility?
The crowds clamor after Jesus and his disciples. Jesus teaches them many things. Jesus has compassion on them, because they are like sheep without a shepherd. Being practically minded, the disciples tell Jesus to send the crowds away, because it was getting late. They need to be dismissed so they can procure food for themselves. Jesus, however, tells the disciples, “You give them something to eat.” Jesus does not make that statement frivolously. There is a context to his demand. They have the power to give the people something to eat. They have the power in the name of Jesus. They were previously faithful in the use of that name. They experienced great victory when they healed the sick and drove out demons in the name of Jesus. Here is a new challenge that their previous success produced. They failed the test, however. They failed in the new challenge. They respond, “Shall we go and buy two denarii worth of bread? That would not suffice.” The power is not in the money. The power is the name they had used previously to heal the sick and drive out demons. It was not, then, about money, because, when Jesus sent them out two-by-two, Jesus commanded that they take no money with them, neither food nor drink. They were to rely on the kindness and goodness of the people to whom they ministered.
Why did they not translate their previous success into this new situation when Jesus challenges them to give the people something to eat? That is a question we can ask ourselves. With each success in life, new challenges are produced. You know that. When you mastered arithmetic, you were promoted to elementary algebra. Initially, it had its challenges, but you eventually mastered it. You were, then, placed into intermediate algebra. Initially, that, too, was hard, but you mastered it and got promoted to advanced algebra in preparation for calculus, a yet even higher challenge that your success produced. We have no trouble understanding this concept in everyday life; yet, when it comes to spiritual growth, development and maturity, why do we not apply the same lesson? Jesus says, “When you are faithful in small things, God will give you bigger things.” Why do we think we can slide under the radar into heaven? Every challenge is an opportunity to grow. Yet, each new success produces greater possibilities based on the choices that you make. Truth be told, many are not exploiting the possibilities that Christ offers in Word and Sacrament. And they wonder why there is such emp ness a er having achieved everything life said you should do to be successful.
The disciples have a challenge that stretches them; yet, they still need to grow. We grow from grace to grace. There is a way to grow spiritually and it involves failure. All growth comes on the heels of failure. We make growth in Christ such a holy thing that we dare not mess up. We think that the deeper things of the faith belong to the holy and pure, those who live mistake free lives. Nothing could be further from the truth. Spiritual growth is heuristic: trial and error. We discover things on our own and together in community with others. The church is not a cathedral of perfect saints, but a school house of those who grow through trial and error with the Holy Spirit. The question is whether we are aware that we should be engaging in such a heuristic process. Most are not aware of that. God, however, is not mocked. You reap what you sow.
Pastor's Page - July 2024
Many moons ago when I did my pastoral internship back in St. Louis, Missouri, my supervising pastor encouraged me to get to know the local pastors. I was told to hear their stories of ministry: their triumphs, their joys, their defeats. I was told to hear their personal narratives. I made the acquaintance of a pastor who spoke openly of his struggles with alcohol. Apparently, alcoholism ran in his family, as both his father and grandfather struggled with it. Ironically, like him, they, too, were pastors. He related to me that he had grown so dependent on alcohol that he could not enter the pulpit without first taking a couple of swigs from his portable flask. It was then that he realized that he needed help, that he could not deal with his disease alone. When we met, he had been sober fifteen years. We toured his church as we talked. On the wall behind the pulpit, I noticed a plaque on which was written the Serenity Prayer: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” “I learned that prayer in A.A.,” Jim told me. “It changed my life. Whenever I enter the pulpit, I touch it as a mental reminder.”
The origin of the Serenity Prayer is not known. Some say that St. Francis of Assisi inspired it; others say it was St. Augustine. Still others say that it has its roots in ancient Mesopotamia. Whatever the origin, there is a truth in that prayer that can help us. What do we have power over? What do we not have power over? The things over which we have no power, can we give them to God? The things over which we do have power, can we face them with courage?
In Job 38:11, God gives Job a necessary perspective as he negotiates his pain. No matter how bedeviling his pain, in the grand scheme of things, both he and his pain are small—nothing. God shows Job a cosmos that is beyond his comprehension in how God manages it, chaos and all. As the cosmos is beyond his comprehension, so is Job’s life. Neither Job nor we can name all the factors in our lives that conspire to produce a given conscious moment. Job has no control over much of his life; yet, he and friends talk as though he does. His friends are convinced that he is in desperate straits because of something he did or failed to do. They try to sift through his secret sins that would produce the fortuitous death of his children. They are convinced that his secret sins are the reason for Job’s misfortune. Job, however, insists that he is innocent. He did nothing wrong.
The lesson here is that bad things do indeed happen to good people. Job is told to put his misfortune in the greater scheme of the cosmos, where God controls the chaos and makes it serve his purpose. Indeed, there are things that happen to us that are beyond our control. In such situations, all we can do is get out of our heads and look up to the heavens.
Jilma and I have a niece who experienced a profound tragedy in high school. She had a best friend whose family lived out their faith in helping people. Melody was a beautiful girl, inside and out. A boy in their high school ran into some trouble with his family. His father kicked him out of the house. He was homeless for a few weeks. Melody heard of the boy’s plight; she told her parents and asked what they could do to help. They decided to take the boy in. About a month later, the boy murdered both Melody and her mother. The tragedy struck deeply in us all who knew Melody: “How could such a tragic thing happen to such good, decent and kind people?” It makes no sense. Indeed, so much is beyond our control. Relative to the universe, we are mere talking particles.
Is it enough, though, to know that truth, to put ourselves and our pain in the larger context of the universe? Is that comforting enough? If that is the only truth we had, then we would be no better off than the ancient Stoics. God cares a lot about us talking particles: God became a man in Jesus to be with us in the things of life beyond our control.
Mark 4:35-41 illustrates this truth wonderfully. As the story goes, Jesus and his disciples are in a boat. A storm occurs out of nowhere—something beyond their control. But, note how they react: they are fearful and cry out. Note Jesus’ reaction: he is asleep on a pillow in the stern of the boat. Is it possible, then, to be more like Jesus in our reactions to the things in life beyond our control? This is the stuff of faith. In the midst of the chaos of life, in the midst of things over which you have no power, Jesus is with you. Instead of looking at the cosmos to denote how small you are, trust that Jesus is with you in the midst of the chaos. With his presence and word you will come to understand what to do with the things over which you have no power and the things over which you do have power.
In 2 Corinthians 6:1-13, St. Paul is keenly of the things over which he has no power. He had no power over how people would respond to the word of truth that he preached, evangelized and taught. He had no power over the beatings, imprisonments, riots, calamities, etc. In all such circumstances beyond his control, however, he does have the power to be patient, to be kind, to speak truthfully, to express genuine love. St. Paul does have power to use the weapons of righteousness, so that when his enemies go low, he always goes high.
Can we react like St. Paul? Can we give to God the circumstances beyond our control; and, yet, amid those circumstances think differently about them, act differently? Can we remain ever hopeful that God will work the good out the bad in his own time? Indeed, God controls the vast cosmos, but God in Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit also deigns to control the anxiety in our vast hearts. It is not enough to cast our pain and suffering in the horizon of the intelligent design of the cosmos. We have a God in Christ who suffers with us, rejoices with us all the way to heaven.
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
Pastor's Page - June, 2024
The story is told of a man named Truth and a man named Lie. They were standing next to a river. Lie challenged Truth to a race. He claimed that he could swim across the river faster than Truth. Lie laid down the rules of the race. Lie suggested that they had to remove all their clothes and at the count of three, dive into the river and swim to the other side and back. Truth agreed. They removed their clothes. Lie counted to three. Truth jumped in; Lie did not. As Truth swam across the river, Lie put on Truth’s clothes. Lie, then, walked back into town. Lie pretended to be Truth.
When Truth made it back to the place where the race started, he discovered that his clothes were gone. He was naked. Though Lie’s clothes were lying there, Truth refused to dress himself in Lie’s clothing. Truth walked back to town naked. People were startled by the sight of naked Truth. Truth tried to explain what happened, that in fact he was Truth; but, because he was naked, people were uncomfortable looking at Truth. They mocked naked Truth. They shunned naked Truth. Instead, the people of the town chose to believe Lie, because Lie was appropriately dressed.
The moral of the story: charmed by the lie, people would rather believe the lie than the naked truth.
After Pentecost Sunday a couple weeks ago, we have entered the church half of the Church Year. This is the long common season when the paraments on the altar are green, symbolizing growth in the Spirit. As we begin this season of growth, there are some things we need to know about the Spirit. In John 16:1-11, Jesus reveals the naked truth about the Spirit.
The naked truth about the Holy Spirit is that you need a helper. Jesus returned to heaven forty days after Easter, Ascension Thursday. Jesus went up; the Spirit came down. We need the helper, the Holy Spirit, as we cannot live the Christian life through your own power. You need the power residing in Word and Sacrament. There are too many forces arrayed against you, not the least of which is entropy. You are dying. Things fall apart. Life gives and life takes. Mortality has a unique way of reminding you that you came from nothing and are returning to it. That should frighten you. Entropy should convince you that you need a helper. You needed a savior from sin, death and the devil. Jesus is such a savior. Now, as you wend your way through this life, you need a helper. The Holy Spirit is your helper.
The second naked truth about the Holy Spirit is that the Spirit convicts the world of sin, righteousness and judgment. Who is the world? The world is not the people out there, the people who do not know Christ. The world is worldly Christians. Worldly Christians are the hyper spiritual who think they no longer need Christ or anything he has to offer in the way of atonement. They think they no longer sin; they have become perfect. They, however, must be convicted of sin, for all have sinned and have fallen short of the glory of God as St. Paul says. Worldly Christians do not accept what Christ is offering. Jesus is the Great Physician who came to save the sick, the sinners, not the self-righteous; they have no need of a physician.
As a consequence of not taking their sin seriously, worldly Christians do not take holiness seriously, for they do not see themselves lacking in anything. They do not respond to the imperative to grow, because they see themselves as perfect, not having failed, not having sinned. Hence, they do not pray. They play games with the things of God, not taking seriously the Word and Sacrament, because they really do not need them. Years ago in Los Angeles, a “Christian” told me that he does not have to attend divine service because he had evolved beyond such “child’s play,” as he characterized it.
Worldly Christians, moreover, think God’s thoughts are their thoughts. They may be religious, but they are not spiritual in the sense of growing in the fruit of the Spirit: in peace, love, joy, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. They must be convicted of righteousness. In other words, God takes spirituality seriously. God takes growth seriously.
Worldly Christians deemphasize judgment. They fail to realize that they have to give an account of how they have lived: how they have created divisions through their judgments. Because they have judged others, worldly Christians shall be judged. They have played God.
Not only are worldly Christians judged, so is the ruler of this world. The ruler of this world is the guru who informs worldly Christians. That guru could be a theologian, a politician, a philosopher, anyone who makes worldly Christians believe they are the center of world. There is the rub: we live in a narcissistic age. In a fascinating book titled, The Disappearance of Rituals, German Philosopher Byong-Chul Han says: “
The culture of authenticity goes hand in hand with the distrust of ritualized forms of interaction. Only spontaneous emotion, that is, a subjective state, is authentic. Behavior that is formed in some way is denigrated as inauthentic or superficial. In the society of authenticity, actions are guided internally, motivated psychologically, whereas in ritual societies actions are determined by externalized forms of interaction. Rituals make the world objective; they mediate our relation to the world. The compulsion of authenticity, by contrast, makes everything subjective, thereby intensifying narcissistic tendencies. Today, narcissistic tendencies are on the rise because we are increasingly losing the ability to conduct social interactions outside the boundaries of self.” (The Disappearance of Rituals, pg. 31)
Social media have created a culture of authenticity wherein everyone divulges everything about oneself to the point of the pornographic. We live in a world obsessed with the self. This obsession with the self has invaded the church. Little wonder that what goes on in many churches is flat-out narcissistic, an overly preoccupation with the subjective self. A preoccupation with the self, then, is weakening the Body of Christ.
The naked truth is that you will never outgrow your need for a savior in Jesus and a helper in the Holy Spirit. They remind us of our need for redemption in Christ in Word and Sacrament. They remind us of our need for power deriving from outside us in the person of the Holy Spirit in Word and Sacrament. Word and Sacrament are never about the self. They are about what God does outside and inside the self to grow it up into Christ Jesus.
Pastor's Page - May, 2024
The day I took the train from Berlin to Wittenberg, I felt ambivalent. I felt ambivalent, because there is nothing more anticlimactic than visiting historical sites. Built up over the years through books and documentaries, a historical site never lives up to your conception of it in your mind. Reality has nothing on imagination. The train ride from Berlin to Wittenberg was about an hour and a half. After exiting the train, I made my way to Lutherstadt. My first stop was the cathedral on whose door Martin Luther nailed his Ninety-five theses inviting a debate among scholars.
I was surprised that there were so few people mulling about the cathedral. Together with me, there were about five people in all. The other four had been there before me; so, they soon left. I was left all alone in the church.
It was a beautiful church. The altar was the kind you would see in many of the old midwestern, Lutheran churches where the forebears of the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod settled after leaving Saxony, Germany in the mid 19th century. There was a life-size statue of Jesus in the center of the altar surrounded by a facade of white Gothic spires.
As I walked about the church, however, I did not feel any mystery. I did not have any of the feelings that Dr. Martin Luther King’s father had when he visited this cathedral just after Adolf Hitler became chancellor of Germany in 1933. The senior King had such a profound experience in this church that he changed his name upon returning to America. He also changed the name of his 8-year old son, Michael, who we know as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Then I saw it—I saw Martin Luther’s grave. Luther’s grave was what I longed to see.
I stood before it. I was caught in suspension, not knowing exactly what I should do. So, I touched it. I, then, sat down near it. I spent a few moments in contemplation, baffled by the distance between Luther and me. Then, I heard his voice in my head. His voice bridged the historical distance. I heard his joy and zeal. I heard his laughter and his earnest prayers. I heard his scholarly and pastoral brilliance. I had touched a part of the German soul. The German soul, moreover, is not beer and brats, the autobahn, or World War II. It is more than that. Luther played a role in birthing the German soul. He gave the Germans their voice, inasmuch as he gave them their language, Hochdeutsch, “standardized German.” In other European lands, kings and queens standardized the language of their realms; in Germany, however, a theologian standardized German with his translation of the Bible. Luther’s translation of the Bible into German was the hottest ticket to be had, for one held in one’s own hands the words of God. Previously, only priests—the selective elite—had access to the Bible. Luther gave it to everyone. In doing so, he gave the Germans their very soul.
It was the voice of Jesus that informed Luther’s voice. In heeding the voice of Jesus, all that Luther ever wanted was to recover his divine voice in the late medieval church. He wanted to recover Jesus’ voice of kindness, mercy, atonement—Luther wanted the voice of the Gospel to ring out as cathedral bells.
The voice of Jesus, then, transcends time and space, for it is a living voice by virtue of his resurrection from the dead, articulated in the living Spirit among us in Word and Sacrament. What does the voice of Jesus say to us today?
He is the Good Shepherd. He lays down his life for the sheep. Love for the sheep impels Jesus to protect his people from danger. The constant danger is Satan, the wolf, who attacks with temptation to sin, and despair in the face of death. Inasmuch as he continually haunts us as St. Peter says in his epistle, we are in constant need of a Good Shepherd. This divine shepherd demonstrates greater love than any one, as he lays down his life for his friends.
After Easter and Pentecost, the apostles were dependent on the voice of Jesus. After healing a crippled man in the name of Jesus, the voice of Jesus, St. Peter preached to the assembled crowd that had gathered. He and St. John proclaimed Jesus’ resurrection from the dead. 5,000 believed and joined the early church. Such is the power of the voice of Jesus. St. Peter confesses that it was not through any power of his own that the crippled man was healed; he was healed through the voice of Jesus residing in the ministry of believers gathered around Word and Sacrament.
Ultimately, moreover, the voice of Jesus empowers us to do what he did. 1 John 3:16 says, “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—we ought to lay down our lives for one another.” We certainly know how Jesus laid down his life for us, taking up the cross and being crucified on it. How do we surrender our lives for others? We die to our false selves. In dying to our false selves, we open our hearts to hear the voices of others. We thereby love in deed and truth. The false self keeps us so busy with ourselves that we fail to hear other voices. If we are to be the priests we are called to be in Baptism, then we must be adept at hearing God’s voice and the voices of others. We cannot rightfully pray without hearing God’s voice in the Word and other people’s voices in their struggles.
The soul of the Germans got possessed by an evil man. He led Germany to profound destruction. I still felt the pain in Berlin.
As I walked the streets of Berlin, I thought about what Edith Portesi shared with the Living Way Bible Study that meets Wednesday morning. She was a child in post World War II Germany. She spoke of their deprivation, their constant hunger. For a long time Edith’s generation did not voice their pain.
I came across a book in the window of a bookstore in Berlin: Die Vergessene Generation: die Kriegskinder Brechen ihr Schweigen. “The Forgotten Generation: the Children of the War Break their Silence.”
For a long time, to the dismay of their children and grandchildren, the post World War II generation in Germany did not voice their pain. Now, however, they are beginning to raise their voice to new generations to be wary of ideologies that drive nations to war. Ideology can make anyone appear smart. Hitler and his cohorts were not smart men; in their case, ideology overcompensated for their natural lack. The harsh reality of war is an affront to the arrogance of ideology. As General William Tecumseh Sherman said during the American Civil War, “War is hell.” The children of war attest to that truth.
Following the voice of Jesus provides us with the critical discernment to see through ideology. By following the voice of Jesus, Dietrich Bonhoeffer saw through the veneer of Nazi ideology. In the cauldron of World War II, he heeded the voice of Jesus, even unto death; inasmuch as he did, he could not harken to the voice of the wolf bent on destruction.
Pastor's Page - April, 2024
There is a Peanut’s Cartoon which features Lucy and Linus. Lucy is Linus’ older sister; and, as older siblings are wont to do, she bosses her little brother around. One day, they were watching TV together when Lucy orders Linus, “Get me a glass of water!” Not to be bullied and intimidated, Linus responds, “Why should I do anything for you? You never do a thing for me!” “Fair enough,” responds Lucy. “On your 75th birthday, I promise to bake you a cake” At that, Linus smiled. He got up with alacrity and headed for the kitchen. On the way, he said to himself, “Life is more hopeful when you have something to look forward to.” Indeed, life is more hopeful when you have something to look forward to.
We look forward to an Easter experience with Jesus. Easter, therefore, makes us more hopeful. Without hope, we atrophy and die. We must have something that engenders hope, because life, relatively speaking, is a long journey. Walter Brueggemen, a noted theologian, said that we begin life in a place of orientation, where everything makes sense. Life is good and goes the way we expect. Then, one day life changes course. We, then, enter a place disorientation. Disorientation is when life does not fit our notions of reality any longer. But, to the extent that we are hopeful, keeping our heads up, we grow into a new orientation.
As we face our individual journeys, Easter gives us reason to always keep our heads up, to hope, for Easter ensures three things.
First, Easter ensures the forgiveness of sin. The ultimate benefit of the sacrifice of Christ is forgiveness. Easter means that the Father has accepted the sacrifice of Jesus. Because he was raised up from the dead, everything Jesus said and did is true; it can be believed with all your heart.
In Numbers 21, the people of God sin profoundly. Their sin was not complaint. We find complaint throughout the Old Testament. In the Book of Numbers specifically, the people complain constantly; Moses complains. Complaining is what humans do. Now, there is a better way to complain that does not create chaos among the people with whom we live and work: Moses complained to God. It is better to complain to God who can over time do something. Ladies, nothing induces more stress in your husbands than complaint. Men like to fix things and be done with them. From the perspective of men, complaint is an amorphous, disjointed reality in which nothing is ever fixed or finalized. Rather than complain to your husbands, complain to God in prayer.
The real sin of the people of God is that they denigrated the manna. The manna was not just for physical sustenance. It was for spiritual sustenance as well. It was called “the bread from heaven.” The people denigrated God’s provision. The consequence: they made themselves vulnerable. They lost the protective covering of the manna. They made themselves vulnerable to the fiery snakes that were native to the desert. Insofar as they were fed by God and thereby drawn close to God, they were protected from the fiery snakes. When they distanced themselves from God through negative thinking that disconfirmed God’s activity in their lives, they were not protected. They sin profoundly; yet, God provides the means of
forgiveness—the snake on the pole. When we denigrate the things of God, we become vulnerable. You know it—you feel it. Yet, that vulnerability drives you to a forgiving God. So, we keep our heads up, ever hopeful, even amid sin. As Moses lifted up the snake in the desert for the forgiveness of sin and healing, so Jesus was lifted up and has drawn us to himself. We have forgiveness in him.
Second, Easter keeps us ever hopeful, because we have a loving God. John 3:16 says, “God so loved the world.” How did God love the world? He sent his only Son to draw us to himself, to draw us to the one who has life and light. The closer we are to Christ who is our life, we have more light to illuminate our way as we traverse this dark world. Easter invites us already now to remain in him who is the true temple. It is in union with Jesus in the temple that is body in Word and Sacrament that saves us from the darkness of sin to which we are so prone as we wend our way through life.
Through Word and Sacrament, moreover, we participate in Christ. Every good and spiritual gift flows from that participation in Christ. We do not participate in Christ with our good intentions, though lovely they may be. Everybody has good intentions and can rationalize any behavior. Humans are adept at rationalization, for is the mechanism through which we avoid pain, the pain of facing who we really are in the mirror of Word and Sacrament. Good intentions are nothing before God. At the center of any rationalization before God is: “God knows my heart.” Indeed God knows your heart and it is profoundly weak and misguided. It needs the objective guidance of Word and Sacrament, which is participation in Christ. Only those who participate in Christ are saved. Good intentions do not save. The psychopath easily points to the good intentions in his/her heart.
One final reason to keep our heads up, being ever hopeful, is that we are God’s work, God’s special craft. St. Paul says in Ephesians 2 that God is forever working on us through the Spirit. So, then, be careful in construction zones—especially tread lightly in other people’s construction zone. They are a work in progress— don’t judge. Life is hard for everyone, and God is ever working on them. Be patient with yourself and everyone else, for God is not finished with you nor them.
Are we that important to God? Of course! Because of the work of Christ, we have been seated in the heavenlies with Christ. We have a destiny beyond this life; we are already connected to that destiny in a profound, spiritual way that is beyond our brains, of which we only use fifteen percent on a daily basis. How can such a little brain ever figure God out?
Indeed, life is more hopeful when you have something to look forward to. We look forward to our Easter experience in Christ Jesus when we take our last breath on earth. In that Easter experience, death will lose its sting. Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!
Pastor's Page - March, 2024
The story is told of Bill who had died. A few months later, Susie, his widow, was finally able to talk to her friends about how thoughtful and wonderful Bill was.
“Bill thought of everything,” Susie told her friend Nancy.
“You know, just before he died, Bill called me to his bedside and handed me three envelopes.”
“Really?” responded Nancy. “What did he say?”
Susie responded, “He said: ‘Susie, I have put my last wishes in these three envelopes. After I am dead, please open them and do what I’ve instructed in them, so I can rest in peace.’”
“So, what was in the envelopes?” Nancy asked.
Susie said, “In the first envelope, there was $5,000 with a note that said, ‘Please use this money to buy a nice casket.’ So I bought Bill a beautiful Mahogany casket with thick padding. I know that he is resting comfortably.
“In the second envelope, there was $10,000 with a note that said, ‘Please use this money for a nice funeral.’ So, I arranged a very dignified funeral for Bill. All his friends and family attended.
“Finally, in the third envelope, there was $20,000 with a note that said, ‘Please use this money to buy a suitable stone so I am remembered.”
At this point, Susie held up her hand and pointed to the five-carat diamond ring on finger. “So, what do you think of the stone?”
You don’t have to wait till you’re dead to rest in peace. You can rest in peace now. In fact, it is incumbent upon you to rest your body, mind, and soul. How? That is what the third commandment is for: “Thou shalt observe the sabbath day to keep it holy. Six days you shall work, but on the seventh day you shall rest.” There is a rest that the body needs. There is a rest that the mind needs. And, there is a rest that the soul needs. A wise person once said, “Rest is not idle; it is not wasteful. Sometimes rest is the most productive thing you can do for your body and soul.”
The prophet Isaiah ministered to a people who were weary. In Isaiah 40, the people are weary, because they believe God is not paying attention to them. It is understandable that they would feel that way after having lost everything in the Babylonian Captivity. “Why do say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel, ‘My way is hidden from the Lord.’” They are weary in the mind. You know what that feels like: no vacation, no sleep, no days off can cure weariness of mind. At the root of weariness of mind is a spiritual problem, a relational one even. A relational problem can darken any experience. They are having a relational problem with God.
What’s the solution to weariness of mind? It sounds counter intuitive, but the solution is waiting on God. Isaiah says, “They who wait on the Lord will renew their strength.” That Hebrew word for waiting is rich. It means to twist tread into cords, cords into rope. Rope is a metaphor for strength. In the waiting God is active; God is using the waiting to strengthen you to prepare you for the next phase or challenge of your life. All those years of waiting during the Babylonian Captivity prepare the people of God for their reentry into Judea. They return stronger, like a rope. They renew their strength.
God is not ignoring what you are going through. God is active in the waiting, twisting you, making you stronger. The Lenten season has been about an active waiting wherein God is twisting twine into rope through the Lenten fast and repentance. On the other side of Lent is the celebration of our Lord’s resurrection from the dead on Easter Sunday. His resurrection is our promise of resurrection after a lifetime of actively waiting on God. Lent and Easter analogize our lives in this world to the next. In the waiting for the eternal life that is coming our way, God is active in the waiting to prepare us for the weight of glory in Christ and the saints in the horizon of resurrection light.
In Mark 1:29-39, note the frenetic pace of Jesus. Mark wrote his Gospel for the Roman world. The Roman world was informed by empire. The Roman Empire was constantly on the move, at a frenetic pace. Jesus’ spiritual empire is on the move: he heals Simon’s mother-in-law; at sundown they brought to Jesus all who were sick and troubled by demons; and, the whole city is gathered at his door.
Amid all that frenetic activity, moreover, verse 35 says, “Rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, he [Jesus] departed and went out to a desolate and there he prayed.” This verse says two things: first, Jesus took care of his body by sleeping; secondly, Jesus took care of his soul by getting up early, finding a desolate to pray.
I was at a pastors’ retreat last month. I gave a presentation on Seelsorge, a German word meaning “care of the soul.” The question came up, “How do we busy pastors find time in our busy schedules to develop spiritual disciplines so that we do not become jaded?” I simply answered, “You make the time.” Jesus made the time; he peeled himself away from his schedule pray early in the morning.
In I Corinthians 9, St. Paul tells us the kind of rest the mind needs. It needs a purpose, a focus, a transcendent purpose in fact. A mind without purpose leads to a restless mind. A restless mind is draining. We see St. Paul’s purpose: to preach the Gospel. The great apostle feels compelled to give it away, for it does not belong to him. He experienced the liberating Gospel in the forgiveness of sin. He was complicit in killing Christians through zealotry for the law and his people’s traditions. His sin pressed on his mind—it was ever before him. The only freedom from it was Christ. If he experienced the love and forgiveness of Christ, so can anyone. He was compelled to share Christ with others. That was the purpose and focus that contoured his mind. The mind can only rest when it has a purpose. Do you have one? Ask Jesus to give you one.
You can rest in peace already now. You don’t have to wait till you’re dead to rest.
Pastor's Page - February, 2024
Both nature and nurture contributed to Dwight David Eisenhower becoming a great American president. Nature gave him a strong, tough, big and athletic body. Nature gave him a keen intelligence. And, nature gave him good looks.
Nurture gave Eisenhower a competitive streak. Nurture gave him love, discipline, ambition and religion. And, unfortunately, nurture made him a segregationist, as he was raised in the era of Plessy versus Ferguson. Segregation, however, would test his character. Could he defy nurture, transcend it, and nevertheless do the right thing?
The test was the following: In defiance of the Supreme Court’s decision of Brown verses the Board of Education of Topeka outlawing segregation in education, on September 2, 1957, Governor Orval Faubus of Arkansas called out the national guard to block nine African-American students from entering Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas. Though Eisenhower was sympathetic to white southerners, though he failed to give public support to Brown versus the Board of Education of Topeka as it meandered its way through the court system, nevertheless he met the test of the moral character of his presidency head on when he called up the 101 Airborne and sent them to Little Rock, Arkansas to escort the nine African-American students to classes. Eisenhower, then, pressed the Arkansas National Guard into federal service. He took the governor’s army right out from under him. It was a brilliant move. It settled forever the question of whether the federal government could use force to break up state-sponsored segregation.
How do you explain Eisenhower? The best answer: People are complex. To be in the office of the presidency is to feel the weight of history, something bigger than one’s own private opinions and biases. And, the test of a president’s character and leadership is how that president responds to the weight of history. Though he was ambivalent, President Eisenhower set the precedent of using federal power to release the strangle hold of state segregation. History would prove that he did the right thing.
Like President Eisenhower, St. James was in a quandary. What should the church do about the Gentiles? Understandably, James and many Jews were biased against Gentiles. Jewish hatred of Gentiles was profound, in fact. It was as bad as the racial hatred in America in Eisenhower’s day. So, what were the principles James learned from Jesus that enabled him to get up and lead the church in a new direction despite any ambivalence in his heart?
St. James learned steadfastness. He learned to bend, but not break. Storms arise in life; such is the protean nature of life. The wind is the metaphor of the essence of life that is change. Over the years, people have moved in and out of our ministry. In the last year alone, we have lost so many prominent members to the state of Tennessee: Susan and Rik Snyder, Sandra Hempstead, Jane Ann Monroe, and now Melinda and Andrew Busch will be moving there soon. Emily Nehring relocated to God’s country, Fort Wayne, Indiana. The Gransdens are relocating to Maine. These all were and are active and significant members of our congregation. How I would love to retain each of them! My heart is deeply saddened to have seen them go. But, alas, the winds blow—life changes. Amid such changes, can we bend, not break?
What informs steadfastness, moreover, is foundational principles. Such principles, of course, guide your life. Have you asked yourself lately: “What are my foundational principles?” The better question is: can others identify your foundational principles? By looking at your life can I get a sense of what is important to you? Of course, those are all rhetorical questions that you answer at your own leisure. Whatever your foundational principles, they keep you steadfast, focused, going in the right direction, attracting the right things to you based on them. The foundational principles that St. James learned from Jesus are: God is love; God is a spirit; Jesus is the new Moses who fulfills the law; and, Jesus is the new Temple where in his body he makes atonement for the sins of the world. In the Eucharist every Sunday we enter his body to receive atonement. Are those also your foundational principles that give you equanimity amid life’s ups and downs?
