It's always a bit of a challenge imposing ashes on people's foreheads. I think I've finally got the right recipe (one teaspoon of ash for every vial full of olive oil), but it certainly isn't a smooth and creamy mixture. The ash mixture has little bumps in it and it's it not necessarily a pleasant feeling on the skin when it's imposed. When I put my finger in it and made the sign of the cross on a person's forehead last night, I had to quickly let go of attempts of making the "perfect" cross. Some of the crosses I made were pretty clear. Others didn't turn out very well so I quickly would try it again.
All of this, I suppose, is symbolic of Lent. As we peer into our souls, we often find that they're bumpy, a little messy, less than perfect, maybe even black. It's a reminder of our mortality and our ultimate dependence on God.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Ash Wednesday: Buechner on Lent
From Frederick Buechner, "Whistling in the Dark: An ABC Theologized":
Lent
"In many cultures there is an ancient custom of giving a tenth of each year's income to some holy use. For Christians, to observe forty days of Lent is to do the same thing with roughly a tenth of each year's days. After being baptized by John in the River Jordan, Jesus went off alone into the wilderness where he spent forty days asking himself the question what it meant to be Jesus. During Lent, Christians are supposed to ask one way or another what it means to be themselves.
"If you had to bet everything you have on whether there is a God or whether there isn't, which side would get your money and why?
"When you look at your face in the mirror, what do you see in it that you most like and what do you see in it that you most deplore?
"If you had only one last message to leave to the handful of people who are most important to you, what would it be in twenty-five words or less?
"Of all the things you have done in your life, which is the one you would most like to undo? Which is the one that makes you happiest to remember?
"Is there any person in the world, or any cause, that, if circumstances called for it, you would be willing to die for?
"If this were your last day of your life, what would you do with it?
"To hear yourself try to answer questions like these is to begin to hear something not only of who you are but of both what you are becoming and what you are failing to become. It can be a pretty depressing business all in all, but if sackcloth and ashes are at the start of it, something like Easter may be at the end."
Have a blessed Lent.
Lent
"In many cultures there is an ancient custom of giving a tenth of each year's income to some holy use. For Christians, to observe forty days of Lent is to do the same thing with roughly a tenth of each year's days. After being baptized by John in the River Jordan, Jesus went off alone into the wilderness where he spent forty days asking himself the question what it meant to be Jesus. During Lent, Christians are supposed to ask one way or another what it means to be themselves.
"If you had to bet everything you have on whether there is a God or whether there isn't, which side would get your money and why?
"When you look at your face in the mirror, what do you see in it that you most like and what do you see in it that you most deplore?
"If you had only one last message to leave to the handful of people who are most important to you, what would it be in twenty-five words or less?
"Of all the things you have done in your life, which is the one you would most like to undo? Which is the one that makes you happiest to remember?
"Is there any person in the world, or any cause, that, if circumstances called for it, you would be willing to die for?
"If this were your last day of your life, what would you do with it?
"To hear yourself try to answer questions like these is to begin to hear something not only of who you are but of both what you are becoming and what you are failing to become. It can be a pretty depressing business all in all, but if sackcloth and ashes are at the start of it, something like Easter may be at the end."
Have a blessed Lent.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Devotions with my (sick) daughter
Getting sick always throws me off my routine. My cold subsided last weekend so I was able to get back on track this week, which includes getting up for my morning devotions. I think I've mentioned before the challenges I've had with this since our son was born 14 months ago. He likes getting up pretty early though recently he's sleeping a little later, which affords me the chance to spend at least 20 minutes in prayer and reflection. That didn't happen last night/early this morning, though.
Our daughter has been sickly lately and last night she cried out to my wife around 12:45 that her stomach hurt. A few minutes later, a trip to the bathroom bore that out. She appeared to be in pretty intense pain, moaning and holding her stomach while lying on the bathroom floor. Is there a more helpless feeling when a loved one--especially your child--is sick? To compound this, I sometimes think the worst. My wife got out a medical book to see if it was something more than the stomach flu and she turned to the "appendicitis" entry even though it said that children younger than 6 rarely have it. Of course, our minds were racing to the point where I briefly wondered, what if she has leukemia? Hey, what can I say, you don't think rationally at 1 a.m. when your child is in pain. Anne stayed with her a while, came back to bed, and then Caroline got sick again around 5 and I went in with her. She wasn't in the intense pain that she was earlier and was, in fact, kind of sweet. I read her some stories, thought about my day, and, yes, held the bucket in front of her while also holding back her hair. I also wondered about my devotions. I realized, however, that I was having them right there. Caring and supporting another person, especially one who is dependent, is about as close an encounter with God that we can have.
Our daughter has been sickly lately and last night she cried out to my wife around 12:45 that her stomach hurt. A few minutes later, a trip to the bathroom bore that out. She appeared to be in pretty intense pain, moaning and holding her stomach while lying on the bathroom floor. Is there a more helpless feeling when a loved one--especially your child--is sick? To compound this, I sometimes think the worst. My wife got out a medical book to see if it was something more than the stomach flu and she turned to the "appendicitis" entry even though it said that children younger than 6 rarely have it. Of course, our minds were racing to the point where I briefly wondered, what if she has leukemia? Hey, what can I say, you don't think rationally at 1 a.m. when your child is in pain. Anne stayed with her a while, came back to bed, and then Caroline got sick again around 5 and I went in with her. She wasn't in the intense pain that she was earlier and was, in fact, kind of sweet. I read her some stories, thought about my day, and, yes, held the bucket in front of her while also holding back her hair. I also wondered about my devotions. I realized, however, that I was having them right there. Caring and supporting another person, especially one who is dependent, is about as close an encounter with God that we can have.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Again and again and again
Once a month I get together with a group of other clergy folks to touch base, see how things are going, pray for each other, and laugh with each other about this crazy vocation we've all taken on. Today, we were led through some lectio divina (http://www.beliefnet.com/story/38/story_3879_1.html to learn more about that) and heard the story from John about Jesus in the Temple and some authorities bringing him a woman caught in the act of adultery. What struck me in listening to this passage, though, was the word "again." It comes up twice. First, in the beginning when it says that early in the morning, Jesus went to the Temple again... Second, at the end of the passage, Jesus tells the woman to go on her way and not sin again.
Our lives are filled with agains, aren't they? We go to work again. We come home to our spouse and children again. We eat meals again. We do so many seemingly hum-drum things again and again and again. And yet Jesus also did many mundane things again and again and again.
Our society doesn't necessarily like agains. It likes new and improved and we fight the temptation to see only dreariness in our agains. But it is in the agains, I believe, that Jesus breaks in and makes our agains meeting places with the sacred.
Our lives are filled with agains, aren't they? We go to work again. We come home to our spouse and children again. We eat meals again. We do so many seemingly hum-drum things again and again and again. And yet Jesus also did many mundane things again and again and again.
Our society doesn't necessarily like agains. It likes new and improved and we fight the temptation to see only dreariness in our agains. But it is in the agains, I believe, that Jesus breaks in and makes our agains meeting places with the sacred.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Pump you up
It’s a common joke that I make about myself that I’m not terribly handy around the house. I can change lightbulbs with the best of them and can occasionally take on a plumbing job, but, unfortunately, it doesn’t come naturally. Last weekend, the water pumped out from our sump pump froze in the discharge pipe outside our house. That caused our backup pump to let us know that something was wrong. All this caused much consternation on my part in trying to figure out what was wrong with our regular pump and our back-up and it wasn’t solved until the plumber came on Monday. But one good thing came out of this mini-emergency. I learned something. I now have a better handle on the whole sump pump process and the actual sump isn’t a mystery any more to me.
The sump is kind of scary, to be honest. It’s in the corner of our basement and it has a black cover on it. When you take the cover off, all you can see is dark and water, which, in my mind, is a frightening combination. I imagined a bottomless pit with all kinds of mysterious things lurking at the bottom. But this "emergency" meant I had to unhook the backup and take it in to check the battery and see if it was broken. That meant looking into the sump. When I shone the flashlight down there, I realized that the sump is only a couple feet deep and at the bottom was just water. Your run-of-the-mill home owner probably knows this, but it was a revelation to me. No longer is the sump mysterious. I know what the dark hides. And all it took was shining some light into it. Kind of reminds me of Jesus: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).
The sump is kind of scary, to be honest. It’s in the corner of our basement and it has a black cover on it. When you take the cover off, all you can see is dark and water, which, in my mind, is a frightening combination. I imagined a bottomless pit with all kinds of mysterious things lurking at the bottom. But this "emergency" meant I had to unhook the backup and take it in to check the battery and see if it was broken. That meant looking into the sump. When I shone the flashlight down there, I realized that the sump is only a couple feet deep and at the bottom was just water. Your run-of-the-mill home owner probably knows this, but it was a revelation to me. No longer is the sump mysterious. I know what the dark hides. And all it took was shining some light into it. Kind of reminds me of Jesus: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Wishes for my children
I suppose it’s at least somewhat normal for parents to want their children to have some of their same interests. As my two children get older (though they’re still fairly young), I keep telling myself that I want them to realize their own gifts and interests and then support them in those pursuits. But there’s still a little excitement I feel when one of them seems to take an interest in something that I really enjoy.
Case in point and a classic case at that: Volumes have been written about pressures that fathers place on sons to, for example, pursue a certain career or a particular activity, especially sports. Just because I was involved in sports as a youth, though, doesn’t mean my son or daughter will be so inclined and I’m already cognizant of not trying to forcefully steer them to a place they don’t want to go. It’s a struggle, I must admit. My 4-year-old likes to go over to the track near our home and run around it (great!), but when I told her about the opportunity to play t-ball this spring, she expressed little interest (why not?!?). I was probably a little too pleased when I watched my 1-year-old, who has recently taken to saying “bah” when he sees any kind of ball, having great fun putting a soccer ball in his clothes hamper. He’s 1, for goodness sake, and he’s delighting in simple play. But I briefly got caught up in, Oh, he’s going to be a basketball player! What it comes down to, I suppose, is knowing what you want for your child, making sure that that desire is healthy, and staying true to your own desires and dreams, i.e. your child’s life doesn’t completely become your life.
Our church administrator is a great writer and she recently wrote a letter to the editor at the Chicago Tribune in response to a question that the Tribune posed: If you could give any (Christmas) gift, what would it be? She powerfully wrote about her desires for her teen-age children, one of whom has autism. What it came down for her was this: “The gift I most wish for my son, for both my children, is that they will always know how deeply they are loved, how profoundly they are cherished, just the way they are.” What a wonderful wish for any parent, no matter what interests their children have. I have a sense that God wishes the same thing.
Case in point and a classic case at that: Volumes have been written about pressures that fathers place on sons to, for example, pursue a certain career or a particular activity, especially sports. Just because I was involved in sports as a youth, though, doesn’t mean my son or daughter will be so inclined and I’m already cognizant of not trying to forcefully steer them to a place they don’t want to go. It’s a struggle, I must admit. My 4-year-old likes to go over to the track near our home and run around it (great!), but when I told her about the opportunity to play t-ball this spring, she expressed little interest (why not?!?). I was probably a little too pleased when I watched my 1-year-old, who has recently taken to saying “bah” when he sees any kind of ball, having great fun putting a soccer ball in his clothes hamper. He’s 1, for goodness sake, and he’s delighting in simple play. But I briefly got caught up in, Oh, he’s going to be a basketball player! What it comes down to, I suppose, is knowing what you want for your child, making sure that that desire is healthy, and staying true to your own desires and dreams, i.e. your child’s life doesn’t completely become your life.
Our church administrator is a great writer and she recently wrote a letter to the editor at the Chicago Tribune in response to a question that the Tribune posed: If you could give any (Christmas) gift, what would it be? She powerfully wrote about her desires for her teen-age children, one of whom has autism. What it came down for her was this: “The gift I most wish for my son, for both my children, is that they will always know how deeply they are loved, how profoundly they are cherished, just the way they are.” What a wonderful wish for any parent, no matter what interests their children have. I have a sense that God wishes the same thing.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Pray without ceasing
Even though I was only gone a couple days, it’s always hard coming back from time away. At least for me anyway. There’s something attractive (I assume for most folks) about being in a place where you have no responsibility and no schedule. When we got back home on Sunday afternoon, there was a bit of a lull and I thought about the various things I could do around the house, but I had little ambition to do them. That sluggishness has stayed with me this week and it's seeping into my devotion time. It is a challenge to do my devotions in the first place these days because many times I’ll take our talking/crying son with me in the morning. He used to play or wander in our basement when I read, but now he immediately heads for the stairs and wants to explore elsewhere. But I can usually get a little bit of prayer and reflection in. This week, though, it’s been easy to give a cursory read and mumble a few prayers to myself.
The command in 1 Thessalonians to pray without ceasing is helpful here. Even though I’ve read this advice many times, I still sometimes get discouraged when my prayers don’t fling open the doors of my heart and the exuberance of the Holy Spirit comes rushing in. Sometimes it feels as if I’m simply calling out and I only hear an echo. But prayer doesn’t always usher in a particular feeling. Prayer fosters faithfulness.
The command in 1 Thessalonians to pray without ceasing is helpful here. Even though I’ve read this advice many times, I still sometimes get discouraged when my prayers don’t fling open the doors of my heart and the exuberance of the Holy Spirit comes rushing in. Sometimes it feels as if I’m simply calling out and I only hear an echo. But prayer doesn’t always usher in a particular feeling. Prayer fosters faithfulness.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
That toddlin' town
I haven’t been very devoted to the blog lately, so for the handful of you who occasionally check in for entertainment (inspiration?), my apologies. Things have been hectic. I also do appreciate responses to what I write, but, again, often don’t have time to respond to the responders so I encourage other readers to engage with what others have to say/write.
My wife and I spent our annual winter weekend in the city last weekend, which has become something we both look forward to as much as any time of the year. My mom comes out to stay with our kids and we traipse downtown to eat out, get some uninterrupted sleep, and experience the arts. This time around, we stayed at the Hotel Allegro, watched “Wicked” (which has had an interesting impact on me—many great themes of grace, exclusion, and call are in this musical and, for the life of me, I can’t get the songs out of my head) and “Good Night, and Good Luck,” ate breakfast at Ina’s and Orange, ate dinner at the Mambo Grill, and spent about three hours at the Art Institute Saturday morning. We decided to get the headphone self-guided tour at the Art Institute and it was the best $6 we ever spent. A new world opened up to me when I was able to get some context and background for a lot of the pieces.
Someday I hope we can move into the city—there’s a vibrancy there that you simply can’t get anywhere else.
My wife and I spent our annual winter weekend in the city last weekend, which has become something we both look forward to as much as any time of the year. My mom comes out to stay with our kids and we traipse downtown to eat out, get some uninterrupted sleep, and experience the arts. This time around, we stayed at the Hotel Allegro, watched “Wicked” (which has had an interesting impact on me—many great themes of grace, exclusion, and call are in this musical and, for the life of me, I can’t get the songs out of my head) and “Good Night, and Good Luck,” ate breakfast at Ina’s and Orange, ate dinner at the Mambo Grill, and spent about three hours at the Art Institute Saturday morning. We decided to get the headphone self-guided tour at the Art Institute and it was the best $6 we ever spent. A new world opened up to me when I was able to get some context and background for a lot of the pieces.
Someday I hope we can move into the city—there’s a vibrancy there that you simply can’t get anywhere else.
Friday, January 27, 2006
My wife won't get horses, cattle, or sheep
Googling yourself might be one of the more self-indulgent things a person can do. I don' t do it often (really, I don't), but today I was checking up on a high school classmate of mine (Susan Werner) who has recorded a few CDs. I knew her a little bit, but actually graduated with her brother, Mark, who I knew well. I tried finding Mark, but there are a lot of Mark Werners out there. Anyway, it's almost 5 p.m. on a Friday and my energy is draining so I googled myself to see what I'd find. Interestingly, the first thing that came up for "Christian Coon," was the last will and testament for a Christian Coon in 1795. He left most of his land to his children, Christian, Henry, Gertrout, and Lovice. Yes, Lovice. To his beloved wife, Elisabeth, he left his household goods (or, rather, the goods he hadn't already left to his son, Christian) and horses, cattle, and sheep. Sadly, my wife will be empty handed when it comes to livestock if I die before her.
One other interesting thing I found. Apparently there are a few coon hunters out there who like to get together and share the faith. Yes, that's right, Christian coon hunters. I wonder if I should be concerned. Probably not, though a t-shirt from one of those groups would be nice. Oh, the fascinating ways one can waste time on a Friday afternoon.
One other interesting thing I found. Apparently there are a few coon hunters out there who like to get together and share the faith. Yes, that's right, Christian coon hunters. I wonder if I should be concerned. Probably not, though a t-shirt from one of those groups would be nice. Oh, the fascinating ways one can waste time on a Friday afternoon.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Yes, OK, yes, it's my birthday
I never know what to do about my birthday. By that I mean to I trumpet it so that others will wish me a happy birthday or do I just keep quiet about it, secretly hoping that others will somehow just know that it's my birthday. I've done it both ways so I figure this will be a year that I trumpet.
38 years ago today, a very young husband and wife (18 and 20) welcomed me into the world in Cedar Falls, Iowa. A few days later we went home to our trailer home while my dad went to college and worked at a meat packing plant. Mom stayed home with me. From humble beginnings, new life can be formed. And it was. And I'm thankful, so very thankful, for God's presence in my life from those first moments and the way God guided my parents as they guided me.
I have a beautiful wife, two cherished children, and I get paid to preach, pray, and pontificate. What more could I ask? Happy birthday to me, indeed.
38 years ago today, a very young husband and wife (18 and 20) welcomed me into the world in Cedar Falls, Iowa. A few days later we went home to our trailer home while my dad went to college and worked at a meat packing plant. Mom stayed home with me. From humble beginnings, new life can be formed. And it was. And I'm thankful, so very thankful, for God's presence in my life from those first moments and the way God guided my parents as they guided me.
I have a beautiful wife, two cherished children, and I get paid to preach, pray, and pontificate. What more could I ask? Happy birthday to me, indeed.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
God's P.R. people
God needs a good public-relations person right about now. Two articles in the last two days make me think that.
The first article came yesterday morning and it was about, of all things, the football game between the Indianapolis Colts and Pittsburgh Steelers. The last quote of the article was from the Colts' kicker Mike Vanderjagt: "I guess the Lord forgot about the football team." Let's review where this comes from. First, let me say for the record, and I don't think I'm going out on a theological limb here, I don't believe God really has a rooting interest in any sports event. Let's just say for fun, however, that God wanted the Colts to win last Sunday. That wouldn't be a big stretch, especially considering the Colts' coach is Tony Dungy, by all accounts a strong Christian, who has gone through one of the most horrendous things a parent can go through--his 18-year-old son committed suicide about three weeks ago. I can see God thinking, "Hmm, it would be great if the Colts could win this thing. Let's see if I'm needed. The Colts are favored to win anyway so maybe they won't need My help." But the Colts did need help. They fell behind, but were trying to make a valiant comeback. Fairly late in the game, however, the Colts' quarterback was intercepted by one of the Steelers who caught the ball, fell down, got up, fumbled the ball and then recovered it. The instant replay showed pretty conclusively that he caught it and then fumbled and recovered it. It should have been the Steelers' ball, but the referee said, no, he never intercepted it and it was still the Colts' ball, much to the surprise of everybody at the game. I could see God being a part of that one (if God wanted the Colts to win, that is). Near the end of the game, things were looking bleak for the Colts. They were behind by three points and the Steelers only needed one yard for a touchdown with about a minute left. God the Colts fan might say at this point, "OK, they really need My help now." The Steelers gave their ball to their running back Jerome Bettis who hadn't fumbled the ball all year. Guess what? He fumbled, the Colts recovered got the ball down field with just a few seconds and brought in the aforementioned kicker, Mike Vanderjagt, who is one of the most accurate kickers in the league, to kick a field goal. God might say, "OK, I've done enough, Mike, you can make this, it's up to you." But he missed and missed badly. Colts lose. Imagine God being disappointed. After all, God wanted the Colts to win and obviously intervened a couple different times to make sure they did win. And then Vanderjagt says, "It's extreme disbelief. From the..interception reversal to Jerome's fumble, everything seemed to be lined up in our favor. I guess the Lord forgot about the football team." If I'm God the Colts fan, I have a little talk with Mike Vanderjagt.
The second article was in today's paper. New Orleans mayor C. Ray Nagin said this: "As we think about rebuilding New Orleans, surely God is mad at America. He's sending hurricane after hurricane after hurricane. And it's destroying, it's putting stress on this country. Surely, he's not approval [sic] of us being in Iraq under false pretenses. But surely he's upset at black America also. We're not taking care of ourselves. We're not taking care of our women. And we're not taking care of our children."
Is God mad at America? It's a perfectly good question to ask. Is God mad at the world? If I'm God, I use my PR person (which may be you and/or me) to put out this statement: "I'm very mad that there's war, hunger, poverty, injustice, depression, and loneliness. Who wouldn't be? But please do not infer that my mode of punishment is killing innocent people via natural disasters. I thought people knew better. Sadly, people do too good job of punishing themselves. I'm doing all I can to help you put a stop to that. That is, when I'm not helping the Colts."
The first article came yesterday morning and it was about, of all things, the football game between the Indianapolis Colts and Pittsburgh Steelers. The last quote of the article was from the Colts' kicker Mike Vanderjagt: "I guess the Lord forgot about the football team." Let's review where this comes from. First, let me say for the record, and I don't think I'm going out on a theological limb here, I don't believe God really has a rooting interest in any sports event. Let's just say for fun, however, that God wanted the Colts to win last Sunday. That wouldn't be a big stretch, especially considering the Colts' coach is Tony Dungy, by all accounts a strong Christian, who has gone through one of the most horrendous things a parent can go through--his 18-year-old son committed suicide about three weeks ago. I can see God thinking, "Hmm, it would be great if the Colts could win this thing. Let's see if I'm needed. The Colts are favored to win anyway so maybe they won't need My help." But the Colts did need help. They fell behind, but were trying to make a valiant comeback. Fairly late in the game, however, the Colts' quarterback was intercepted by one of the Steelers who caught the ball, fell down, got up, fumbled the ball and then recovered it. The instant replay showed pretty conclusively that he caught it and then fumbled and recovered it. It should have been the Steelers' ball, but the referee said, no, he never intercepted it and it was still the Colts' ball, much to the surprise of everybody at the game. I could see God being a part of that one (if God wanted the Colts to win, that is). Near the end of the game, things were looking bleak for the Colts. They were behind by three points and the Steelers only needed one yard for a touchdown with about a minute left. God the Colts fan might say at this point, "OK, they really need My help now." The Steelers gave their ball to their running back Jerome Bettis who hadn't fumbled the ball all year. Guess what? He fumbled, the Colts recovered got the ball down field with just a few seconds and brought in the aforementioned kicker, Mike Vanderjagt, who is one of the most accurate kickers in the league, to kick a field goal. God might say, "OK, I've done enough, Mike, you can make this, it's up to you." But he missed and missed badly. Colts lose. Imagine God being disappointed. After all, God wanted the Colts to win and obviously intervened a couple different times to make sure they did win. And then Vanderjagt says, "It's extreme disbelief. From the..interception reversal to Jerome's fumble, everything seemed to be lined up in our favor. I guess the Lord forgot about the football team." If I'm God the Colts fan, I have a little talk with Mike Vanderjagt.
The second article was in today's paper. New Orleans mayor C. Ray Nagin said this: "As we think about rebuilding New Orleans, surely God is mad at America. He's sending hurricane after hurricane after hurricane. And it's destroying, it's putting stress on this country. Surely, he's not approval [sic] of us being in Iraq under false pretenses. But surely he's upset at black America also. We're not taking care of ourselves. We're not taking care of our women. And we're not taking care of our children."
Is God mad at America? It's a perfectly good question to ask. Is God mad at the world? If I'm God, I use my PR person (which may be you and/or me) to put out this statement: "I'm very mad that there's war, hunger, poverty, injustice, depression, and loneliness. Who wouldn't be? But please do not infer that my mode of punishment is killing innocent people via natural disasters. I thought people knew better. Sadly, people do too good job of punishing themselves. I'm doing all I can to help you put a stop to that. That is, when I'm not helping the Colts."
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Home in the evening
Pastors have non-traditional schedules. Of course, there's the having to work Sunday morning gig, but many also are out a few nights a week because of meetings or classes. I usually have something that's church-related three nights a week. Ideally it would be two, but I rarely schedule four. My wife gets a special place in heaven for being so patient and understanding with this schedule.
That's why this week has been somewhat odd. I have no meetings. No classes. For the last four nights, I haven't had to rush to the church after dinner. I can help give my son a bath (Caroline used to let me give her a bath, but now I can only run the water for her and maybe help wash her. Maybe. Otherwise, it's all mom), read a book or two, wash the dishes, and have some time to do whatever. Last night I read a bit, continued to learn about my new watch (see yesterday's blog), watched the end of a documentary ("The Fog of War") I started Tues. night. I have to admit, it's been very nice. It will be tough to get back in the swing of things when we're back from our trip to Iowa. They say right before women give birth, they go through a nesting phase. That's what I think I'm doing right now.
That's why this week has been somewhat odd. I have no meetings. No classes. For the last four nights, I haven't had to rush to the church after dinner. I can help give my son a bath (Caroline used to let me give her a bath, but now I can only run the water for her and maybe help wash her. Maybe. Otherwise, it's all mom), read a book or two, wash the dishes, and have some time to do whatever. Last night I read a bit, continued to learn about my new watch (see yesterday's blog), watched the end of a documentary ("The Fog of War") I started Tues. night. I have to admit, it's been very nice. It will be tough to get back in the swing of things when we're back from our trip to Iowa. They say right before women give birth, they go through a nesting phase. That's what I think I'm doing right now.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Something's watching from above
My favorite toy this Christmas was a watch. Not just any watch, mind you, but a watch that, well, watches. I don't recall the exact name of it, but it's more like a system that has two parts. One part is a little device that you clip on your arm or shorts and it has a global positioning system inside it that connects with a satellite. The other part is the watch that communicates with the device and tells me how far and how fast I've run. I'm still learning how it works, but I took it out this morning and it was pretty amazing. At first, it wasn't doing anything and then I wondered, Hmm, maybe I need to press this "start" button and, voila!, something beyond the gray clouds was tracking me, telling me how far I was running. It was a dreary morning and I thought the clouds might impede the signal, but, sure enough, it followed me through the park, through downtown Highland Park, past the library, and down Sheridan Road. No matter where I went, something up there was tracking me and giving me updates on my progress. It doesn't take an ordained pastor to figure out some connections here:
"Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast. If I say, 'Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night,' even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you."
--Psalm 139:7-12
The best part of that heavenly tracker? No batteries needed.
"Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast. If I say, 'Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night,' even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you."
--Psalm 139:7-12
The best part of that heavenly tracker? No batteries needed.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Making room for memories
Boxing Day (Dec. 26 to Americans) has so many emotions. I'm sure for millions of kids around the world, a kind-of depression sets in. That's not surprising. They've been geared up for so long for Dec. 25 that the day after has to be some sort of let down. For our household, it was a day of rest. Christmas was busier than normal for us with the addition of a church service and we had some folks over for brunch afterward. Add the opening of gifts before church and a trek down to my sister-in-law's later in the day and we were glad to sit in our mess yesterday. To a point. I was a little more willing than my wife was and last night while I was watching a DVD of "The Sopranos," she was busy throwing out boxes and straightening up.
Another emotion that may come up is guilt or at least a sense of uneasiness. Christmas brings more things into our lives, most of which, if we're honest with ourselves, aren't needed. For example, I got a brand-new coffee maker that does everything except file my taxes. It's a pretty slick machine, but then we have to find a place for our old, simple coffee maker, which still works, but doesn't have all the gadgets that the new one does. As we search for more space, two things may go through our minds: 1. We need a bigger house or 2. We have way too much stuff. I'm guessing most Americans choose option #1.
In addition to our things, though, Anne (my wife) had to make room for some conflicting memories. She gave our daughter the doll house she played with as a little girl and it's an impressive structure, quite large with many rooms and appliances (this family has no problem finding room for their stuff). We had to figure out a way to put in our daughter's room which meant spending time doing some major rearranging. But I think Anne had a little difficulty truly giving it up. I can understand that. She spent hours playing with these dolls and now she has to let our daughter use them, maybe break them, maybe lose some pieces. In addition, there are the memories of her mother infused in every little room in the house. Those memories are rife with joy (spending wonderful times with her mother) and pain (realizing she's no longer here). Those are the hardest ones, perhaps, to come to terms with. It's much harder making room for these than an old coffee maker.
Another emotion that may come up is guilt or at least a sense of uneasiness. Christmas brings more things into our lives, most of which, if we're honest with ourselves, aren't needed. For example, I got a brand-new coffee maker that does everything except file my taxes. It's a pretty slick machine, but then we have to find a place for our old, simple coffee maker, which still works, but doesn't have all the gadgets that the new one does. As we search for more space, two things may go through our minds: 1. We need a bigger house or 2. We have way too much stuff. I'm guessing most Americans choose option #1.
In addition to our things, though, Anne (my wife) had to make room for some conflicting memories. She gave our daughter the doll house she played with as a little girl and it's an impressive structure, quite large with many rooms and appliances (this family has no problem finding room for their stuff). We had to figure out a way to put in our daughter's room which meant spending time doing some major rearranging. But I think Anne had a little difficulty truly giving it up. I can understand that. She spent hours playing with these dolls and now she has to let our daughter use them, maybe break them, maybe lose some pieces. In addition, there are the memories of her mother infused in every little room in the house. Those memories are rife with joy (spending wonderful times with her mother) and pain (realizing she's no longer here). Those are the hardest ones, perhaps, to come to terms with. It's much harder making room for these than an old coffee maker.
Friday, December 23, 2005
My Christmas letter
I'm not writing a Christmas letter this year and there are various reasons why, mainly because the creative juices just aren't there. I've had a lot of fun with writing these letters in the past(one of my favorites was when I summarized our year in haiku), but nothing seemed to jump out at me this year.
There seems to be a Christmas letter pattern with people my age, especially if they have kids. Three areas are covered. First, an update on what the kids are doing and what they enjoy. The problem with most parents (and I include myself in this) is that we're blinded by this remarkable thing we've done: create life. Now, it is a remarkable thing indeed. I wouldn't argue if someone wanted to say it's miraculous, if you think about it. But that sometimes translates into thinking that we have miracle children and want to tell the world how they're developing. By my unofficial survey of letters, though, kids are pretty much kids. Certain-aged children read particular books, like particular things, get involved with particular activities. My daughter does things that a lot of 4-year-olds do and the same with our 1-year-old son. My wife and I marvel at this, but others may not. (They should, though, because our children really are gifted. Really.)
The second area is travel. We used to be able to write about some interesting trips, but in 2005, other than Boston, it wasn't a terribly interesting year in travel. The Iowa State Fair was probably #2 on our list, if that gives you an idea. As a native Iowan, of course, that's a journey worth taking, but, again, doesn't really get anybody else's pulse racing.
The third area is summarizing one's vocation. Ours have pretty much stayed the same. I still really enjoy being a pastor at this church. Anne still really enjoys staying at home the kids. We could have said something about Anne's mom passing away, but most people know that and it's kind of hard to put into words how that affected us.
So, this year, I did a very radical thing. I took out a pen and wrote notes to people. Not long, especially to people I keep in touch with pretty regularly, but still, I worked on my penmanship (such as it is) while telling people the above information in shorter prose.
Summarizing a year in the life can be a challenge and maybe that's why I'm doing this blog so if anyone's interested in what I'm doing they can read it on a somewhat daily basis. Now THAT should get your pulse racing. Especially when I write about my oh-so gifted children. That reminds me of an amazing thing Ethan did the other day...
There seems to be a Christmas letter pattern with people my age, especially if they have kids. Three areas are covered. First, an update on what the kids are doing and what they enjoy. The problem with most parents (and I include myself in this) is that we're blinded by this remarkable thing we've done: create life. Now, it is a remarkable thing indeed. I wouldn't argue if someone wanted to say it's miraculous, if you think about it. But that sometimes translates into thinking that we have miracle children and want to tell the world how they're developing. By my unofficial survey of letters, though, kids are pretty much kids. Certain-aged children read particular books, like particular things, get involved with particular activities. My daughter does things that a lot of 4-year-olds do and the same with our 1-year-old son. My wife and I marvel at this, but others may not. (They should, though, because our children really are gifted. Really.)
The second area is travel. We used to be able to write about some interesting trips, but in 2005, other than Boston, it wasn't a terribly interesting year in travel. The Iowa State Fair was probably #2 on our list, if that gives you an idea. As a native Iowan, of course, that's a journey worth taking, but, again, doesn't really get anybody else's pulse racing.
The third area is summarizing one's vocation. Ours have pretty much stayed the same. I still really enjoy being a pastor at this church. Anne still really enjoys staying at home the kids. We could have said something about Anne's mom passing away, but most people know that and it's kind of hard to put into words how that affected us.
So, this year, I did a very radical thing. I took out a pen and wrote notes to people. Not long, especially to people I keep in touch with pretty regularly, but still, I worked on my penmanship (such as it is) while telling people the above information in shorter prose.
Summarizing a year in the life can be a challenge and maybe that's why I'm doing this blog so if anyone's interested in what I'm doing they can read it on a somewhat daily basis. Now THAT should get your pulse racing. Especially when I write about my oh-so gifted children. That reminds me of an amazing thing Ethan did the other day...
Friday, December 16, 2005
Marshmallow menorah
We live in an area that has a significant Jewish population and there are many reasons to celebrate this. We learn about customs, traditions, and viewpoints that we might not be exposed to.
I have no idea if Christians are in the minority in Highland Park and Deerfield (most unscientific estimates I hear say it’s about 50-50), but every once in a while I get a small sense of what it must be like for someone who is a religious minority. Our daughter goes to a local non-religious preschool, but it’s one that does discuss different religious traditions. Obviously this is a time of year when those traditions are discussed. Last week they talked about Hanukkah and this week they’re talking about Christmas. I had an odd feeling, I must confess, when my daughter brought home her art creation from last week. She walked up to me with a big smile on her face as she held up a menorah. Not just any menorah, of course, but a marshmallow menorah. The marshmallows were the candlesticks, toothpicks were the candles, and jellybeans were the flames. I’m not sure how the Maccabees would have survived with marshmallows instead of lamps, but you get the idea. I have to sheepishly confess that my first thought when she presented this to me was fear that we hadn’t done a good enough job instructing her in Christian symbols and traditions. Does she know about Advent? Why have we been so lax about lighting our Advent wreath? The fact that she’s a pastor’s kid, goes to church every week, participates in prayers every day, etc. probably means she’s getting enough of the whole Christian thing, but it was a weird, fleeting feeling nonetheless.
I wonder what it must be like for a true religious minority? This goes beyond the silly debate about whether the phrase “Merry Christmas” is being excised from our vernacular. It gives me a new appreciation for the devout Muslim or Jew or Sikh or Buddhist or Christian who lives in a place where there is either subtle or forced pressure to not exhibit or hold true to their faith. That is a kind of tenacious faith that I admire and strive for.
I have no idea if Christians are in the minority in Highland Park and Deerfield (most unscientific estimates I hear say it’s about 50-50), but every once in a while I get a small sense of what it must be like for someone who is a religious minority. Our daughter goes to a local non-religious preschool, but it’s one that does discuss different religious traditions. Obviously this is a time of year when those traditions are discussed. Last week they talked about Hanukkah and this week they’re talking about Christmas. I had an odd feeling, I must confess, when my daughter brought home her art creation from last week. She walked up to me with a big smile on her face as she held up a menorah. Not just any menorah, of course, but a marshmallow menorah. The marshmallows were the candlesticks, toothpicks were the candles, and jellybeans were the flames. I’m not sure how the Maccabees would have survived with marshmallows instead of lamps, but you get the idea. I have to sheepishly confess that my first thought when she presented this to me was fear that we hadn’t done a good enough job instructing her in Christian symbols and traditions. Does she know about Advent? Why have we been so lax about lighting our Advent wreath? The fact that she’s a pastor’s kid, goes to church every week, participates in prayers every day, etc. probably means she’s getting enough of the whole Christian thing, but it was a weird, fleeting feeling nonetheless.
I wonder what it must be like for a true religious minority? This goes beyond the silly debate about whether the phrase “Merry Christmas” is being excised from our vernacular. It gives me a new appreciation for the devout Muslim or Jew or Sikh or Buddhist or Christian who lives in a place where there is either subtle or forced pressure to not exhibit or hold true to their faith. That is a kind of tenacious faith that I admire and strive for.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Almost getting arrested (well, not really)
I went to a prayer vigil/rally today at Rep. Mark Kirk's office in Northbrook. It was a very interesting experience.
I'm kind of a novice when it comes to political types of gatherings. I've walked in a couple of marches, but that's really about the extent of it. For some reason, though, the proposed federal budget has really caught my attention. As I've stated before on this blog, I find the combination of spending cuts for our society's most vulnerable and tax cuts for the society's wealthy to be very disturbing and against family values, if I can steal that phrase. Another member of my church came along and we drove down to Rep. Kirk's office. There were about 25 or so of us and I was one of about six clergy, three Christian and three Jewish. We had a brief prayer service outside the doors of the office building which upset the building's manager since we were technically on private property. There was some back and forth about that since a congressman's office should be public property, but we eventually went up to Rep. Kirk's office and spoke to his chief of staff. The clergy group went up together and wondered who was going to be the spokesperson. No one jumped at the opportunity at first. Since I was so new to this, I was hesitant to take that responsibility even though I have done a fair amount of reading on this budget. Finally, one of the rabbis took the lead and when we all crammed into the lobby of the office, many people took turns speaking. I called on my journalist background and asked the chief of staff how Rep. Kirk is going to be voting and he kept saying, "I'll pass this information onto the representative" without giving any commitments. He looked a tad bit anxious. That's the thing that was a real learning for me. Most everyone involved seemed a little nervous. I assumed I was there with seasoned pros (there were a few there), but I think just about every one there may have had the same anxieties I did. Do I know enough? Will I say something dumb?
After about 10 minutes, the Northbrook police showed up. Apparently the building manager called them in (we must have been quite the imposing presence what with our prayers and all), but Rep. Kirk's staff said everything was fine and there were no problems until we left and the police refused to let us pray outside the doors again. We ended up having to go stand in the cold and snow along a busy street so we could be on an unshoveled public sidewalk.
It was a great learning experience and helped build a little courage within me so I can do a little more the next time this kind of thing comes up. There was a man there from www.atcenternetwork.com who was shooting video of the proceedings. Apparently this is a grass-roots organization that puts video blogs about community events so check out that site in a few days if you want to see us in action.
I'm kind of a novice when it comes to political types of gatherings. I've walked in a couple of marches, but that's really about the extent of it. For some reason, though, the proposed federal budget has really caught my attention. As I've stated before on this blog, I find the combination of spending cuts for our society's most vulnerable and tax cuts for the society's wealthy to be very disturbing and against family values, if I can steal that phrase. Another member of my church came along and we drove down to Rep. Kirk's office. There were about 25 or so of us and I was one of about six clergy, three Christian and three Jewish. We had a brief prayer service outside the doors of the office building which upset the building's manager since we were technically on private property. There was some back and forth about that since a congressman's office should be public property, but we eventually went up to Rep. Kirk's office and spoke to his chief of staff. The clergy group went up together and wondered who was going to be the spokesperson. No one jumped at the opportunity at first. Since I was so new to this, I was hesitant to take that responsibility even though I have done a fair amount of reading on this budget. Finally, one of the rabbis took the lead and when we all crammed into the lobby of the office, many people took turns speaking. I called on my journalist background and asked the chief of staff how Rep. Kirk is going to be voting and he kept saying, "I'll pass this information onto the representative" without giving any commitments. He looked a tad bit anxious. That's the thing that was a real learning for me. Most everyone involved seemed a little nervous. I assumed I was there with seasoned pros (there were a few there), but I think just about every one there may have had the same anxieties I did. Do I know enough? Will I say something dumb?
After about 10 minutes, the Northbrook police showed up. Apparently the building manager called them in (we must have been quite the imposing presence what with our prayers and all), but Rep. Kirk's staff said everything was fine and there were no problems until we left and the police refused to let us pray outside the doors again. We ended up having to go stand in the cold and snow along a busy street so we could be on an unshoveled public sidewalk.
It was a great learning experience and helped build a little courage within me so I can do a little more the next time this kind of thing comes up. There was a man there from www.atcenternetwork.com who was shooting video of the proceedings. Apparently this is a grass-roots organization that puts video blogs about community events so check out that site in a few days if you want to see us in action.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Life and death (mostly death) situations
I was watching a little bit of "Blue's Clues" with my daughter yesterday and it was an episode where they explained the three (Christmas, Hanukkh, and Kwanzaa) holidays coming up. Their explanation of Christmas was pretty bland, as one might expect. All they really said was that we celebrate a special birth. No mention of whose birth, but I suppose that's a given. I think. Anyway, that pretty much sums up. We celebrate a special birth. We anticipate the coming of a new life. It's a pretty important subject during this time of the year.
I've been dealing with a lot of death, however, the last couple of days. They're different kinds of death, though. We've had a mouse problem since Saturday and two little mice have gone to mouse heaven since then. Our dog killed one Saturday and the other was caught in a trap this morning. As I dumped Mouse #2 in the garbage and then had a discussion with my wife about our garbage disposal dying, our daughter called out from the other room: "There's a dead squirrel in the backyard!" We both answered: "What?" and then went to inspect. Sure enough, there it was on its back. We're not sure why, but our dog may be on a killing spree though the squirrel looked fairly peaceful. So I went back outside, shoveled the squirrel up, dumped it in a bag, threw it away, and came back inside. When I got to the office this morning, I was told that a long-time member of the church had passed away. She was in her late 90s.
I'm not sure what to make about all this. All kinds of death happens daily, but despite that, so many yearn for this birth that we celebrate in less than two weeks. New life is constantly hoped for, no matter what the circumstances.
I've been dealing with a lot of death, however, the last couple of days. They're different kinds of death, though. We've had a mouse problem since Saturday and two little mice have gone to mouse heaven since then. Our dog killed one Saturday and the other was caught in a trap this morning. As I dumped Mouse #2 in the garbage and then had a discussion with my wife about our garbage disposal dying, our daughter called out from the other room: "There's a dead squirrel in the backyard!" We both answered: "What?" and then went to inspect. Sure enough, there it was on its back. We're not sure why, but our dog may be on a killing spree though the squirrel looked fairly peaceful. So I went back outside, shoveled the squirrel up, dumped it in a bag, threw it away, and came back inside. When I got to the office this morning, I was told that a long-time member of the church had passed away. She was in her late 90s.
I'm not sure what to make about all this. All kinds of death happens daily, but despite that, so many yearn for this birth that we celebrate in less than two weeks. New life is constantly hoped for, no matter what the circumstances.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Magnificat?
I find it more than a little disturbing that during this season when so many will be reading or hearing the Magnificat, Congress is cutting programs for the poor while considering cutting taxes for the wealthy.
Luke 1:52: "He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty." This is one of the things that Mary sings after getting the remarkable news that she will be carrying the Son of God. Unfortunately, it is the lowly who will be left with nothing after the cuts passed by Congress a couple weeks ago. The rich, if all these tax cuts are passed, will receive good things.
For the faithful few who read my blog, I encourage you to contact your representative and urge them to oppose any final bill, or conference report, that cuts services for the needy. Those in the Deerfield area can contact Rep. Mark Kirk at 202-225-4835.
Luke 1:52: "He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty." This is one of the things that Mary sings after getting the remarkable news that she will be carrying the Son of God. Unfortunately, it is the lowly who will be left with nothing after the cuts passed by Congress a couple weeks ago. The rich, if all these tax cuts are passed, will receive good things.
For the faithful few who read my blog, I encourage you to contact your representative and urge them to oppose any final bill, or conference report, that cuts services for the needy. Those in the Deerfield area can contact Rep. Mark Kirk at 202-225-4835.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Three little letters
Sin is such a short word. Three letters. I'll always be amazed at how one can put just a few letters together to create such different and strong feelings. S-i-n.
I've been thinking about sin the last few days for different reasons, but what got me really thinking was a note in my mother-in-law's Bible. She had written down an acronym for the definition of Reformed theology: TULIP. I don't remember all the letters off the top of my head, but I do remember the "T" and the "U". The U was "Unmerited grace." The "T" was "Total depravity." What little I know about the Reformed faith, I do know that the total depravity is a key part of it. We can do nothing on our own. We are lost without grace. There is truth in that, but I also compare that to Psalm139:14: "I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made." Would a totally depraved person make that comment? As in most things, I believe a balance is called for. Some Christians err too far on the depravity (without acknowledging that God created us and, at least initally, saw that we were good) and others on the "fearfully and wonderfully made" (without acknowledging that we are indeed fallen).
Regardless, I have felt the need to reinstate a regular time of confession and examination in my life, which I haven't been very disciplined about. Confession can indeed be good for the soul. It can even restore a belief that we are fearfully made.
I've been thinking about sin the last few days for different reasons, but what got me really thinking was a note in my mother-in-law's Bible. She had written down an acronym for the definition of Reformed theology: TULIP. I don't remember all the letters off the top of my head, but I do remember the "T" and the "U". The U was "Unmerited grace." The "T" was "Total depravity." What little I know about the Reformed faith, I do know that the total depravity is a key part of it. We can do nothing on our own. We are lost without grace. There is truth in that, but I also compare that to Psalm139:14: "I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made." Would a totally depraved person make that comment? As in most things, I believe a balance is called for. Some Christians err too far on the depravity (without acknowledging that God created us and, at least initally, saw that we were good) and others on the "fearfully and wonderfully made" (without acknowledging that we are indeed fallen).
Regardless, I have felt the need to reinstate a regular time of confession and examination in my life, which I haven't been very disciplined about. Confession can indeed be good for the soul. It can even restore a belief that we are fearfully made.
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