Thank You

For the seventh year I have been able to post over three hundred blogs in a calendar year.  Every now and again some reader will wonder how it is that I am able to write something almost every day.  I must admit that there are moments when I feel like I am ready to quit, but then when the next day comes, I find myself here at the keyboard putting another word together.  When I started writing the blog back in 2008, I never planned for it to be a daily thing.  I did five or six a month and thought that was more than enough.  I am not sure how I got from there to here, but here I am, nonetheless.   

There are several things which have kept me coming here to write.  First, it has become my ministry.  Ministry has defined me since my ordination back in 1971.  A few years ago (2015) I had to give up the preaching ministry.  In retrospect I have never been sure whether I gave  it up, or it was taken from me by the One who called me to do it.  I mostly think it was taken and in its place I was led to begin this writing ministry.  In every place I served except for one, I have written weekly devotionals for newspapers so the writing ministry has been with me longer than any part of my ministry. Secondly, I have come to understand that these daily blog postings reflect the way the Holy Spirit is working in my life and enabling me to accomplish something I could not do alone.    

The third and final thing which has kept me going are the many people who read these blogs.  Many have been the times that I thought it was time to stop when someone spoke a word of encouragement to me, or told me how a particular blog had touched their life.  When I have been tempted to quit, I mostly think of the faces of some of those I know as faithful readers and then I come back to the keyboard to write one more.  All of you who read these ramblings of mine keep me going and I want to end 2023 by letting you know that you who read are as much a part of this blog as any writing I might do.  Thank you.  Thank you very much. 

The Gift

We all tend to do a little looking back at this time of the year.  We count the milestones toward moving forward with our life and we sadly remember the moments which seemed filled with the kind of stuff which is overcoming.  Somehow we made it to what is near about the end of another year.  And as we look back at the whole thing, we know being here is about what it has always been and that is grace.  God's grace is surely the reason we are here on this earth with our famiies and with a measure of good health.    

There is, perhaps, no religious word which gets tossed around so casually as the word grace.  We sing "Amazing Grace" without realizing how amazing it really is for each of us.  Grace is not about what we have earned through our efforts, or through our educational achievements, but something which can only be rightly understood as a gift.  Grace is always all about what we do not deserve.  It is all about God's gift to us.  If we live, it is because  of grace.  If we die and enter our eternal home, it is because of grace.  Life is about grace.    

The bottom line is that the life we live is ours because of God's gifting spirit.  From the moment of our conception in the darkness of the womb until our eyes are opened to see the glory of heaven, we are being gifted by Him.  When the dark clouds of difficulty are hanging heavy in our life, it is hard to see that life is a gift of God's grace, but it remains true.  We are as dependent on God's grace as we are the air we breathe.  Actually, we are more dependent on grace for air is only good for this life and it is grace that sustains us here and will be sufficient to get us Home.  

A Time for Praying

A phone call a couple of days ago sent me to the local cemetery yesterday morning to meet a family who needed a gravesite to bury a loved one.  Some six or seven years ago I volunteered to serve as the caretaker for the local cemetery which is actually owned by the local Baptist and United Methodist Churches.  What that means is that I make sure the maintenance gets done and that gravesites are sold as needed.  It is a job my father-in-law did some twenty years ago and one which gives me an opportunity to serve folks in a time of need.   

After I concluded the business part of the conversation yesterday, I asked the widow and her two sons if I could pray with them before we headed for the warmth of our vehicles.  No one has yet to say "No" to my offering prayer so it gives me an opportunity to point us to the presence of God in a difficult and dark time.  The gravesites require a check, but the prayer is freely given.    When I first started the volunteer job as caretaker, I did not think of the opportunity to pray with those who came, but as the years went along, it became a natural thing to do.  

There are many opportunities given to us through the course of our daily life to pray for those whose lives intersect with us.  Simply saying something like "You are in my thoughts and prayers" sounds a little weak when we could actually take a moment and pray.  I have a friend who when asked to pray always prays for those who ask, but he does it right then even though they may be standing in one of the crowded corners of the marketplace.  It is something we can all do.  It makes a difference.  I know.  I have been one of those who has stood in the presence of someone who dared to pray for me in an unexpected place.  The Word tells us to pray for one another.  Maybe it should also say, "wherever and whenever you find someone who needs the praying."

Old and Worn Out

A late afternoon tractor trip to the pasture with a bale of hay created a moment for seeing the pecan trees which line one side of the domain of the cows.  Oh, I have seen those trees a thousand times, picked up several thousand fallen limbs from under the spreading canopies, and even been blessed with harvesting some pecans every now and again.  In the Spring life stirs among them as green buds start to appear, by summer the trees are full of green leaves and crop of nuts has set.  Then comes the season of falling leaves and dropping pecans which finally leaves the trees as they are today, barren skeletons stretching upward in the sky against a fading gray sky.    

When compared to the other seasons, this day's view might seem to be a bit drab, but it was a kind of beauty that was spellbinding and encouraged me to sit idle on the tractor for a few moments as the picture of creation faded into darkness.  I love what God does with worn out trees that have run their course and show more sign of being spent than useful.  I love the barrenness of the outstretched limbs.  Everything about the afternoon picture seemed empty of life, but there is something in the soil, there is something within the tree, there is something stirring in deep invisible places that is full of mystery.  

Those old worn out trees which are in some cases a hundred years old may look spent and used up, but one day a power will take hold of them to bring forth new life, new foliage, a new crop, and new hope. I am grateful for what God does with these old worn out trees and grateful, too, to know that as He makes the old trees useful so does He make you and me.  

The Last Promise

Some years are harder than others.  As this one comes to the end of its journey, each one of us probably looks behind to see some times we would never have chosen and some that came as delightful surprises.  Such is the nature of life.  It always has been.  We tend to let the hard times overshadow everything else so that the sunny days seemed like they never happened.  These recent gray rainy days remind us that even when the sun cannot be seen, it is still present.    

When the hard difficult moments come with too much regularity, it is good to be reminded that joy and laughter and even dancing are only a day away.  As surely as the sun is not always seen, but always present, so it is with the goodness in our life.  Goodness is always present because God is always present in our life.  There have certainly been times for us in recent days when He seemed absent, but deep in the inner places of our heart, we know He has never been absent.  

It may have been harder in this past year for us to be aware of Him and His goodness, but the Word tells us very clearly that He is with us.  According to Matthew, His last promise to us was, "And remember, I am with you always... (Matthew 28:20}  It is His Word, not mine.  You can count on it even in the hardest of days.

A Slow Journey

Maybe I make too big a deal about getting a new Bible.  It is, after all, just another book, or just another Bible and I have quite a collection of them.  Most of those that fall under the category of "others" have served the purpose of being study Bibles. My new Christmas gift Bible is certainly a replacement Bible for one that is worn out so being the one who does too much thinking about the least of things, I have been pondering how to baptize it into daily use.  

What might seem obvious to most came to me late in the day after a spell of pondering.  I decided to start at the book of Beginning and read to the book that brings the inspired Word to its ending.  It has been some years since I did a through read with the Word.  Do not be looking for a report that the read is finished anytime soon.  I have decided to make this a slow journey.  

When I came to the farm thirteen years ago, the Lord gave me two words one afternoon as I was on my knees pulling weeds from the tomato plants.  "Pay Attention,"  is what He said and what I heard.  It has been a Word that has served me well as I have lived midst the Creation.  As I walk into this new year with a very old Word held together by a new cover, I will move slowly and I pray God will reveal Himself and speak clearly His Word as I "pay attention" to the unread and unmarked pages which tell His story.

A Gift of the Word

Back in 1990 I bought two Bibles just alike.  Well, almost.  One was black and one was blue. When I retired twenty years later the black one was well worn, falling apart, and in need of replacement.  So, I put the blue one into service.  It is starting to look like the retired black one. Someone noticed and bought me a new Bible for a Christmas gift.  This new one is much nicer than the ones I bought.  It has a  leather soft cover and is a large print edition.  I guess that says something about the eyes of the reader!  

So what do you do with a new Bible, one that has no ink markings, no coffee stains, and no torn pages?  Of course, the obvious answer is to read it.  Reading a new Bible will be a different read as I will not be influenced by underlined verses and words written in the margins.  Maybe what it affords me is an opportunity to read the Word again with new eyes, a different set of experiences through which to filter the reading, and a fresh anticipation for hearing the Word of God speak through the new large print edition.   

It makes me remember my first Bible.  It came to me when I was a child.  It was a King James Version with a zipper that ran around the black cover.  It also brings to mind the first Bible I read after becoming a Christian.  It was a Phillips translation of the New Testament given to me as a gift by my Dad when I left for college.  There have been many Bibles in my life.  Each one has been the Word of God which guided the journey.  I am grateful for a new one which will launch me on still another adventure with the Word of the Lord.

Christmas Eve, 2023

And just like that another Christmas Eve has come.  The music.  The ancient story.  The candles burning.  The memories of days past.  'Tis a day of rejoicing and at times a season of sadness as loved ones from our past are known only in our memories.  When Jesus was born long centuries ago, He came via a family.  A mother, a father, grandparents, and later brothers and sisters.  His life, too, was filled with religious traditions of great importance.  And surely, on those most revered days of that Jewish culture, He looked around rejoicing and remembering even as we do.   

There was a moment only yesterday as my family came together for our annual Christmas meal and celebration when the joy was broken into by a moment of deep sadness. It was so deep tears flowed and the laughter ceased.  However, instead of feeling strange, it felt normal.  In a moment the one not present was honored and remembered only to be swallowed up by the joy and laughter across the room.   It was a reminder that sadness and joy do not have to be compartmentalized.  They are both a part of our life and the story of our family.  

The tears point to our loss and the joy speaks to the way memories still bring joy into our lives.  Sometimes it is hard to know where the weeping stops and the laughter begins.  Or, vice versa.  The point is we need not be afraid of either as we gather with our families for moments of celebration for joy and laughter, grief and dancing, are but what God had in mind when He created us to live as families who dare to love one another. 

The Stones

Finally, they arrived.  Stones on the back of a truck.  Stones that were cut from bigger stones.  Silent stones that spoke the words of a story.  Like someone waiting midst an Advent vigil, I had waited.  One month, then two.  More came until they numbered eight and then the truck came carrying the stones.  When it seemed like it would never happen, a call came saying the day had come, and then all the waiting and anticipating was done.   

Standing there seeing those stones for the first time was a moment of relief that everything was finally done, but also a moment of overwhelming sadness that life's journey had brought me to such a place.  As a seven year old boy whose father went to work one day not to return, I have learned about grief.  There is a sense in which I have lived with it all my life.  Maybe we all do after that first moment of saying good bye.  No matter how well we manage to go on living living after loss, grief never goes completely away.  It hangs around in the heart and in some "out of the blue" moment, it comes back into the present opening a storehouse of memories and sometimes releasing a torrent of tears.  

Perhaps, this sudden surprising moment of grief reminds us that we are no longer living with a grief that is so dark it directs our every thought and move.  The Word of God says, "Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning."  (Psalm 30:5)  A  verse a little later in that same chapter speaks of God turning our grief into dancing and being given the garment of joy.  (vs. 11)  What God is able to do for those of us who grieve seems as impossible as moving a mountain, but He, nonetheless, will come when we are ready to receive Him to bring us joy for the journey and hope as a new companion for the future.    

Chaos in the Creche

It was chaos in the creche. It was full of children bringing to life that moment long ago when Jesus was born in Bethlehem.  At times the congregation sat in awe as the children performed and at other times there was a gentle subdued tittering of laughter.  The two little girls dressed as sheep went to sleep.  The donkey kept losing his headgear and the cow kept reaching between his legs for the long tail which hung on the backside of his cow suit.  But, when it was all said and done, the wonderful story had been told and all those present rose in applause.   

Afterthought made the chaos appropriate.  We are tempted to sanitize the ancient story and make it stationary with each character playing some carefully choreographed part.  Actually, it was likely more chaotic that night in Bethlehem than any Sunday morning in church.  There were real animals moving about, stirring hay dust, and doing animal stuff.  There was the sound of a woman in childbirth, a frantic husband trying to create some order, and maybe, some midwife hollering out instructions.  Hopefully, the smelly shepherds did not arrive early to stand around outside waiting for something to happen.  

When "the Word became flesh..."  (John 1:14),  when "...Christ Jesus, who...was in the form of God...emptied Himself,...being born in human likeness..." (Philippians 2:5-7), and when "she (Mary) gave birth to her firstborn son...and laid Him in a manger..." (Luke 2:7), it was likely a very messy scene being played out on center stage in human history.  From the very beginning the Scripture lets us know God is exceptional in creating good out of chaos, but then, most of us have experienced this happening through His grace in our own lives.

The Homecoming

It is, of course, no surprise that reading Nouwen's book on the prodigal son sent me to Luke 15 to read the parable once again.  For a preacher it is a parable with a thousand sermons.  Well, perhaps, I exaggerate a bit, but it has within it a lot of good texts for sermons.  My favorite verse and image within the parable is verse 20.  "...But while he (the younger son) was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him."  Anyone looking for a picture of God need look no further.   

What is implied within the words and the image is the reality that the father had been looking for the gone from home son.  The image which has always accompanied the parable is the father standing each evening at the gate looking down the road to see if this would be the day his lost son would return.  The father did not give up on his son.  He waited for him with love.  And when the son was nearing home, the father was beside himself with joy as he ran down the road to take his son in his arms once again.   

It is a homecoming that speaks to each of us about how our Father God loves us.  Not even our indifference toward Him changes the way He loves us.  When we come to the place of realizing that our obsessions with the trivial ego pursuits of life are a dead end street and turn around, He is there with open arms of forgiveness and a heart filled with love.  Many have been the times when this prodigal soul has wandered far from home only to find the Father's arms open when it became clear that the way being pursued was only taking him further away from the longing of his heart.  How thankful we all are for His patience, His long suffering, His mercy, and His unconditional love.

God's Home

Since retirement I have been reading some different authors.  Henri Nouwen, Thomas Merton, Richard Rohr, and Joan Chittister..  And though Wesleyan to the core, these Roman Catholic writers have nurtured the longing of my heart for God.  There are other new writers which have led me to probe more deeply the heart of mine where the Spirit dwells.  J. Philip Newell, John O'Donohue, Christine Valters Paintner, and Esther De Waal.  These last four have opened a new window enabling me to see and walk into the stream of Celtic spirituality.     

There is a sense in which they have all caused me to walk into a spiritual life that is deeper than the one known before coming to this place and certainly one which makes me want to pay attention to the ordinary moments of my life since those are the moments when God is most apt to be seen, heard, and known.  I am amazed at the way my view of the things of God which seemed so nailed down to the floor of the institutional church has been changing  There have times when the change seemed so radical that I felt like I needed to live my faith secretly lest I be branded as some strange heretic who had lost his way.   

Today while reading, or I should say re-reading Henri Nouwen's book, "The Return of the Prodigal Son," I found the words, "Jesus says, 'Anyone who loves me will keep my word and my Father will love him, and we shall come to him and make our home in him.'  These words have always impressed me deeply.  I am God's home!"   My response could have been "Amen," but instead, it was "Wow!"  Our search for God need not take us on a pilgrimage to some distant shrine, but simply to the inward part of our being where God dwells through the power and presence of the Holy Spirit.  I am grateful for this season when God has been probing my heart enabling me to know how it is that we are enabled by Him to walk constantly in His presence.  

The Journey

Growing up as an Air Force brat and then later as a PK (Preacher's Kid) in a Methodist parsonage makes answering the question, "Where you from?" a hard one.  I never know exactly how to respond.  Do I speak of my birthplace, or do I list the six different places I lived before graduating from high school, or the seven different communities where i served as a pastor?  Maybe I should just say I was born in Waycross, Georgia and considered it answered.  I am never sure where home is although the years of retirement have brought me to a farm which feels more like home than anyplace I have lived.    

Perhaps, my journey from one place to another points toward the reality of our common journey from the moment of our conception to the moment of returning in death to the hands of the Creator who first held and shaped us.  When I started this blog and named it JourneyNotes some fifteen years ago, I had no idea how the image of life being a journey would be implanted in my heart.  I suppose I should have seen it sooner as many times as I have read and pondered the calling of Abraham to journey to an unknown land, but it took me longer than most.  

It was only after retiring and coming to the farm that I began to see what it had all been about as well as what was ahead.  A journey is what it has been and a journey is what is left.  There is a blessed destination as I have seen in the final steps, or breaths, of some worn out and weary souls who were longing more for Home than continuing the journey here.  I, too, have a longing for Home.  I know it is where I belong, but as for now, I will keep plodding along.  There is still a ways to go.

Making a Difference

Burning Bushes

Advent tells us to look for God stirring about.  The Genesis story of Eden tells us that the Garden couple expected God to be revealing Himself regularly in their ordinary lives.  They learned to expect Him.  They anticipated His evening walks in the Garden which is why they were in hiding on the day they paid attention to what the serpent was telling them to do. What we never really need is someone else to tell us we messed up.  They knew and we know, too.   

When we hold the ancient story in one hand and the Advent message in the other, we come to a place of knowing that God is still out there.  It may seem to us that He is in hiding, but the truth is that we do not always want this Invisible One to become the Visible One.  Advent says to forget such wishful thinking.  He is going to be revealing Himself to us.  He is going to come to us as surely as He came walking in the Garden and as surely as He showed up as a helpless baby in the arms of Mary.  He is not only out there on the edge of revealing Himself to us, but we should be living with the expectation that such a revelation is about to happen.    

Our expectations shape our living.  If we expect God to reveal Himself to us in the ordinary moments of our day, we will live those days with eyes opened to look for Him.  We will live them differently.  One of the lessons learned here at the farm in these years of being immersed in the creation is that "Earth's crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God."  (Elizabeth Barrett Browning)  When I first came here thirteen years ago, I never expected to see a burning bush and now it seems that they are all burning!

Farewell

Finally, kind Lord,

   the waiting's been done,

     the slow dying, too,

       no more not seeing,

          no more not hearing,

            no more, Lord, no more,

gone from here to there.

A time for shouting,

    a time for dancing, 

      a time for praising, 

        death now overcome,

           once and forever more,

             hoped for but not seen,

joy on golden streets.

Though heavy with grief, 

    time now to let go,

      as a bird has wings

        and birthed to fly,

          and soar high above,

            so was his soul made

for the journey home.

Thank you, great Father,

    Your plan unseeable 

       since the beginnning,

         now is plain and clear,

           the heart now stilled

             is filled with love

and is there, not here.

     

Fire and Smoke

The first candle on the Advent Wreath has been lit and extinguished by now.  I like candles in the Sanctuary.  It was always a special moment when the acolytes made their journey up the aisle to light the candles on the Table.  And, to be honest is to confess that when the journey was reversed and the candles were extinguished, I often said quietly to myself, "Holy Smoke." The smoke hanging and curling in the air for a brief moment before it disappeared almost always made me think of the Holy Spirit.    

The burning candles and the extinguished candles spoke their own message.  I loved the Christ Candle ablaze on Easter Sunday.  I found great meaning in that moment of darkness on Good Friday evening when one after another all the candles were extinguished until the Sanctuary was bathed in a darkness I knew had only a temporary hold.  And only a few of us do not have precious memories of holding a candle on Christmas Eve as we sang with the host of saints, "Silent Night."  

The fire and smoke speaks its own message to each of us. It is likely a message we have taken for granted over the years, but there in the darkness in which each speaks is a Word from God reminding us of so many things which propel us forward in expressing our love and adoration for the One who has come to us through Bethlehem and who promises to come still once again in such a way that we shall all see Him and His glory.  Thanks be to God!

Seduction

In his book, "The Way of the Heart," Henri Nouwen quotes the introduction of "The Wisdom of the Desert," written by Thomas Merton:  "Society...was regarded (by the Desert Fathers) as a shipwreck from which each single individual man had to swim for his life...These were men who believed that to let oneself drift along, passively accepting the tenets and values of what they knew as society, was purely and simply a disaster."  Nouwen goes on to write that our society is "a dangerous network of domination and manipulation in which we can easily get entangled and lose our soul."  Another way to put the problem is that we can be seduced by the powers of the world.      

It is certainly something to think about on this first Sunday of Advent.  Advent launches us into a time of seeing with new eyes the Lord and King who has come and is coming again.  It is a time of asking ourselves if we are living under the authority of the Kingdom of God, or if we have come to a place of living as a subject of a kingdom which seeks to control our lives through fear and manipulation instead of grace and love.  The Desert Fathers decided to swim away, to go into the desert so that they could survive and serve the Christ in such a broken world.    

At some point we have to decide about swimming or staying.  Swimming may not mean going off into some remote area, but it will require us to make decisions about our ultimate loyalty and lifestyle.  The Desert Fathers saw their decision to be one which was made for the safety of their souls.  It is something for us to consider for ourselves as well.  "Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell."  (Matthew 10:28)

Advent Morning

Advent begins this morning.  This first season on the Christian Calendar will be duly observed in most liturgically based churches today and ignored or given a very casual glance in the others.  It is a season about waiting.  But, it is not the kind of waiting we do in offices of important people, or the kind of waiting a husband might do for his wife, or even the kind of waiting a little child does before Christmas morning.  Instead, it is a waiting which has at its core a belief that God is about to act and there is nothing more important than being ready.    

It is a hard and difficult season.  When rightly observed its days are somber, stark, and empty of festivity.  It is a season of longing, anticipation, and waiting.  It is really a season no one wants to observe because December means Christmas and no one, not even the church crowd, wants to wait.  Most churches will be filled with Christmas trees and festive ribbons midst greenery hung on the end of every pew and the first song may be "Come, Thou long Expected Jesus," but it is more likely that some Christmas song will be sung before the morning is done.  

Advent is intended to be a thoughtful and reflective moment as those who worship are called to think about how life needs to be changed in order to be ready for God to act in our lives which, of course, is what is out there on the horizon as Christmas approaches.  What is central to the Advent season is the reality that God has acted in a powerful way when Jesus was born into the world.  It was a moment when God acted in such a way as to save us from ourselves and our sin.  What does that mean for us?  Listen again to the Advent hymns and read again those Advent scriptures and then sit for a spell until the silence settles deep into our spirit.  The answer awaits those who have ears to hear.

A Subtle Shift

Retirement took me out of the liturgical loop.  I must confess to Advent slipping up on me.  It used to be something seen on the distant horizon and anticipated like a glowing sunset.  Nowadays it, along with other turning point liturgical days, seems to be first seen in the rearview mirror.  Easter and Christmas are appropriately duly noted, but the rest of the important liturgical days come and go without much notice on my part.  I am not bragging, or confessing, but acknowledging a change that has taken place in my life.  

This change is just one of the things which points to the reality that the institutional church is no longer the center of my life.  Some might say such a change is good while others might point a finger and speak of backsliding.  What I really need to confess is that the church should never have been the center of my life. Somewhere along the way of going from ordination to retirement, I lost sight of the real center.  The real center is not the church, but the One whose blood was shed to bring it into being. It is painful to confess that the church was substituted for the Christ, but if there is to be any honest repentance in this season of Advent, it must be confessed again in the present as it has been in the past.   

It is a temptation most clergy face at one time or another in their lives.  It is also easy for those who do not wear the markings of the ordained to figure that doing the work of the church is synonymous with serving Christ.  And while it may be, it can also be another way Christ has been usurped by the church.  It happens in such a subtle way.  Not too many can point to the hour it happened.  In some ways it is like the Garden of Eden coming alive again except it is not Adam and Eve being temtped, but you and me.  

Advent Eve

The candles wait in darkness,

    waiting virgins hidden now,

       wicks untouched by the fire

          not yet hot and burning, 

            like two lovers longing

              for holy consummation,

the candle and flame apart.

Who will come with holy fire?

    Who will extinguish the dark?

        Who will declare its time done?

            Who comes with comforting words?

               Who will rise and go forth now?

Who brings hope that light has come?

Now, arise, the light has come,

    behold, the glory of the Lord

      that has come to overcome

        is about to come in fire 

         upon those circled virgins   

          who wait for holy fire

when the Lord's glory will shine.

(Isaiah 60:1-2)