A Courageous Christmas

It's Christmas Morning.  At worship this morning, a sentence from the Prayer of Invocation spoke to my spirit:  "Bring us to our knees before the manger, that we may then stand with confidence before the dangers around us."  The birth of Jesus invites a posture of piety, a kneeling before the manger, where a tiny, vulnerable baby is cradled.  I am a child of the German Evangelical Church. This is where my piety is grounded: In the Gospel, on my knees in a stable before an infant named Jesus.

But piety is not a sentimental spirituality that is disconnected from the realities of earth.  Piety moves us to "stand with confidence before the dangers around us."  Whether we are standing with vulnerable orphans of war and famine, with those with some debilitating and isolating illness, or with those who face economic disasters--faith moves us from our knees to our feet.  Trusting in the grace and truth we glimpse in Bethlehem's manger, we are disciples who engage in the world.  Christmas begins with piety and moves us to prophetic action.  When the church stands with confidence before the powers and principalities of this world, it declares its allegiance to the Christ in the cradle, to the Crucified Christ on the cross, and to the Risen Christ who promises to be with us forever.

The great temptation for the Christian Church in this time is that we become comfortable and complacent with evil in our midst.  We let someone else "stand before the dangers around us" while we say, "It's not my problem.  It's too complicated.  It's too controversial."    We surrender our voice and our moral responsibility both to kneel and then to stand up for the little ones (Matthew 25). 

Lately, I have been astounded that some are calling for us to return to a nuclear arms race.  I well remember the work of SANE/FREEZE (forerunner of Peace Action) in the 1980's.  I remember William Sloane Coffin, and the prophetic voices of others like Martin Buber, Bertrand Russell, Albert Schweitzer, Harry Bellefonte, who called us to resist the danger of nuclear proliferation.  Our prophets taught us that our security was not in weapons, not in the military-industrial complex, not in threatening words on the lips of world leaders.  True security derives from trusting God to be our refuge and strength.  And those prophetic voices changed the world.

In my last parish, there were congregants who lived on a farm adjacent to a former Minute Man II Missile silo--one of 150 such sites in Western Missouri.  I would pass that underground silo on the way to visit the farm family in their home.  It was unnerving to think that such a deadly weapon was once located just a few hundred yards from the home of my friends.  That missile might have created catastrophic devastation somewhere else in God's world.  Today that silo has been decommissioned because others with faith and courage moved from their knees to their feet.

I not only wish you a Merry Christmas today, but I also wish you a Courageous Christmas.  May your piety, your faith, your devotion to the little Baby in the manger lead you to a spirituality that is sensitive to the needs of all God's little ones, whether they be near or far away.  May your piety lead you to prophetic witness that is willing to "stand with confidence before the dangers around us."  Isn't that, after all, what this tiny Baby will do as he grows up and finds his voice?  Isn't that, ultimately, what he calls and claims us to do in our own time?

Give us courage at Christmas, O God, that we may kneel and then take our stand for your justice and peace.  Amen.   

Incarnation

It's almost Christmas again.  I am reminded of how much I miss the relationships that come with parish ministry.  That is not to say that Christmas was always a joy.  For example, I still remember how difficult it was to balance time between our families and Christmas services.  I remember creating liturgies and delivering homilies for Christmas.  I remember the crowded pews.  I remember Herb wrestling the chalice from my hands and taking it to his lips during the candlelight service.  I remember Wilbert hiking to Christmas Eve worship through briars and ravines, honoring a special Christmas tradition from his childhood.  I remember the solos, Sharon and Brenda and Christy each singing, "Sweet Little Jesus Boy" in different sanctuaries on different Christmases.  I remember luminaries that would not light.  I remember praying for our soldiers during Desert Storm--praying for an end to violence and war.

Today, my thoughts turn to the Incarnation and the way our faith is grounded in flesh-and-blood relationships.  God's holiness is connected to the earthiness and the messiness of human life.  Jesus was born in a stable and cradled in a feed trough.  No place but a barn.  Just imagine.

As I reflect on the Incarnation, I think of Christmas caroling; how we shivered on porches in the village to sing a carol or two.  I recall caroling through the halls of nursing homes.  I remember most caroling in places where life was difficult--where this was likely the last Christmas that a family would be together.  It was a holy time, singing the faith to folks who lived with oxygen tanks, bedside commodes, and diminishing light. And Jesus was there.  It was all so very real.

So, may your Christmas be real and may it be joyful this year.  May you find Jesus anew in those closest to you and those farthest away.  May you delight in the Incarnation--the Word in the flesh and dwelling with us always.  Blessed Christmas, Dear Friends!  Blessed Christmas!

A Walk in the Park

I am spending the week with United Church of Christ colleagues in San Antonio.  It has been a rich and fruitful time as we talk together about the church and the nature and purpose of authorized ministry.  Committees on Ministry do such important work--discerning gifts and assisting in the formation of our clergy, living in that tension between extending support and exercising oversight, saying "yes" and saying "no."  The church is always changing.  God gives us minds as well as hearts, so that we may reason together and think critically about where we are and where God is calling us to go.  I am glad to be here and a partner in this circle.

Most mornings I have been going outside early in San Antonio to take a walk and to pray.  As I walk, I think about churches--local churches--in places like Tamworth and Temple, Hillsborough and Haverhill, Milton and Madbury, Winchester, Westmoreland, Wolfeboro--and many others too.  I think of pastors--faithful servants of the gospel, who have responded to Jesus' call to be set apart for service, for preaching and teaching, for administering the sacraments, for pointing others to the grace and glory of God.  My prayer is that pastors will love their churches and that churches will love their pastors.  I pray that they will mutually engage in building up one another, that they will respect and honor each other, and especially, that they will continue together to listen for the voice of Jesus and be stirred by the Holy Spirit to change the world.  We have such important work to do.  The world needs the church to be light and salt, a beacon of hope.  The world needs the church to break down the walls that divide and destroy God's children.  The world needs the church to sing an old song:  Miriam's song (Exodus 15:21), Hannah's song (1 Samuel 2:2ff.), Mary's song (Luke 1:46ff.).  The world needs the church to witness for justice and to work for peace.

It's time for another walk in the park.  Where will you walk today?  What is your prayer as you walk?

A Reflection on the US Election

I have been thinking a lot since Election Day about what word I would offer and why it is important to say anything about what has happened.  Our society is saturated with pre- and post-election commentary.  In New Hampshire we have barely completed one election cycle when another begins.  Along with that comes pollsters and pundits' predictions.  The editorializing is immediate in social media.   The commentary can become excessive, wearisome with everyone expressing an opinion.  Sometimes we need to pause, to feel, and to pray.

Last week, I heard much anxiety about how preachers in our pulpits would address the outcome of the election.  Would they further divide the country and the churches they serve by expressing their personal disappointment and anger?  Would they cause their members to feel ostracized because they voted for one candidate or another?  I read the counsel and concern that was posted by other church leaders and seminary teachers on Facebook.  Some organized immediate support groups for clergy to gather and talk through their reactions to the election.  

I trust that the Word of God will get through and will have its way with us.   I trust the Word to speak its consolation and challenge in the local context, in the congregations where God's people gather-not once for a pronouncement from on high, but week by week, Sunday by Sunday to build a community of compassion and justice.  I trust the Word of God to move us to care and protect those who are more vulnerable now.  We are called to make sure that all God's children are safe.

Do I have disappointment and concern about the election of our new President?  Yes.  I am concerned about the man we have elected and about the multitudes that propelled him to victory.  I am concerned about his rhetoric becoming our reality.  I am concerned for our children and our neighbors and the building of impenetrable walls around our souls that will isolate and separate us one from another.  I am concerned, but I also believe that the Word of God will have its way--transforming hearts and minds, changing lives, and creating justice.  I have faith that the Spirit of God will stir in ways that we cannot yet imagine.

So I thank the preachers and the prophets for their proclamation of the Word.  I thank them for modeling "courage in the struggle for justice and peace."  I thank them for pointing us toward the One who is with us always, announcing God's "presence in trial and rejoicing."  I thank them for calling us to find our voice and to be vigilant in our witness to love all the people.  In the words of the United Church of Christ's Mission Statement:  United in Spirit and inspired by God's grace, we welcome all, love all, and seek justice for all. 

Today, tomorrow, and in the end, may we be found faithful to the values that we have learned in our sacred sanctuaries.  May we follow Jesus who stills every storm.  May we look to our God, our Sovereign and our Savior.

The LORD sits enthroned over the flood;

      the LORD sits enthroned as king forever.

May the LORD give strength to his people!

            May the LORD bless his people with peace!

~ Psalm 29:10-11, New Revised Standard Version

 

It's Only Words

Last night I listened to the second Presidential debate.  What I heard was a candidate who said, "It's only words, folks. . . . Locker Room Talk."  Only words?  Really?

I am concerned because words evoke actions.  "Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks." (Luke 6:45)  Rhetoric that diminishes and demeans others is real; it is powerful, world-wrecking words.  Words can wound.  Words can break another human being's spirit.  Words can injure others for a lifetime.  Words can cause others to act out in harmful ways toward themselves or others.

The old adage about "Sticks and stones breaking bones, but words never harming" is wrong.  Words can  be weapons that destroy others.  I think of the cyber bullying that causes children to hate themselves.  I think of parents who provoke their children to anger and prejudice that endure for generations.  Words can build up; words can break down.

This is particularly important because at the center of the Christian faith is a God who speaks.  The speaking of God creates the cosmos . . . the universe . . . God's good earth and all that is in it.  God's creative word and breath shape human beings in God's own image, giving them the capacity to communicate, to feel, and to love.  We believe that in Jesus the Word became flesh, revealing the glory of God in the darkest days of our living and our dying.

Integrity means that our words and our acts are in sync.  Our yes is yes.  Our no is no.  Our faith and ethics are one.  We can be counted on to speak the truth in love and to be loving people, who build up and respect all others.

I write this not from a place of superiority, for there have been times throughout my life when my words and my deeds have not been well connected.  Even so, the lessons learned through self-reflection have been sources of growth, and my spirit has been enlarged through honest encounters with others. 

May God have mercy upon us, our leaders, and our role models.  May our words and our deeds bring glory to God whether we are in pulpits or church pews, board rooms or locker rooms.  May God guide us in paths of justice, care, and love.  May it be so!  

The Morning Walk

I've started walking in the mornings in our neighborhood.  Walking is good exercise, but it is also a form of prayer.  Rev. Paul Nickerson suggests to the churches that he coaches that congregants walk through their community, pausing to pray for those who live in the houses and work in the businesses.  Walking clears the mind and helps us observe things we would not otherwise see.  With each step there is connection and communion with God's good world. 

I've noticed that most people will wave in greeting when I'm on foot. I wonder why that is?  When we are in cars meeting each other on these same streets, there is no gesture of acknowledgement.  We hurry on.  But when I'm walking, vulnerable to the approaching vehicle, there is usually a wave, an expression of neighborliness.  I like that, for the world seems a bit less cold and impersonal when I'm on foot.

The other morning, a big yellow school bus lumbered past as I walked.  I saw the back seats and the emergency exit door, and I was transported by a memory to a time about 55 years ago.  It was the morning that I entered first grade.  I had boarded the bus with my friend Glenn.  We sat in the very back seat of the bus as it took us to the little elementary school in Swiss, Missouri.  I remember seeing Glenn's parents following the bus.  Ray and Marilyn were going to Swiss to enroll Glenn in the school.  He was riding the bus, they were coming along in the family car.

It never dawned on me until I got to Swiss that my parents had not come along in our car.  They had just put me on the bus and sent me off to school.  I don't know whether they missed some memo or had made previous plans to have me enrolled.  I was, after all, their eldest child.  They had not been through the routine before.  So I rode the bus and got off at the Swiss School.  The principal, who was also my first-grade teacher, welcomed me; but I could tell she was confused.  I had no parent present to enroll me.

It was at that moment that Evelyn Meyer came to my rescue.  Evelyn was our neighbor.  She was the cook at the Swiss School.  She knew me.  She enrolled me.  Thus began my educational journey--because of a kind and caring neighbor.  The village took care of me; we were all family.  I remembered Evelyn as I walked along the road last week, watching that school bus make its way down the road.  I hope the children on the bus also know that they have neighbors who are kind and caring, who will look out for them and help them to make their way in the world.

Lots of good things happen when I take the time to slow down and just walk, breathing in the cool morning air and the wonder of God's creation.  Goodness and mercy accompany me.  I am not abandoned or alone, and life is very good. 

God, you meet me in the morning when the day is new.  You lead me to find my way through this world one step at a time.  I give thanks for the memory of Evelyn and all those who have accompanied me along life's path.  May I be that kind of friend to those in need of family in these days.  For the beauty and wonder of your creation, I give you thanks and praise, now and forever.  Amen.  

Long-Haul Ministry

Today marks a milestone in my ministry.  On August 21, 2006, I became the Conference Minister of the New Hampshire Conference of the United Church of Christ, a role that I both admired and resisted.  I really did not know what would be required at the time that I was called here.  Ten years later, after a decade of service in the New Hampshire Conference, I reflect on the paths we have walked.  It is clear that together we have been engaged for the long haul.  It is by the grace of God that we have endured and persevered in love.  I rejoice in the gift of time and the faithful saints who seek to follow Jesus on the journey of faith.  They inspire me with their example.  I am convinced that the Holy Spirit is at work in this Conference.  I meet the God who creates and resurrects as I worship in the midst of Christ's people here in New Hampshire.  We are not alone.  We are never alone.

There are some predictable rhythms to this ministry.  Annual meetings come around regularly, as do Prepared to Serve, Clergy Convocation, General Synod, and the monthly meetings of our seven Association Committees on Church & Ministry.  There are sad moments in this ministry--great disappointments--when churches and their pastors fall out of loving relationship, when ministers act in ways that violate their vows, when church folk forget that they are disciples of Jesus Christ.  There are endless transitions in this ministry.  With 135 local churches, someone is always coming or going.  Simultaneously, there is sadness, and there is joy.

Tonight, as I reflect on what has been accomplished in these ten years, I am grateful for the kindness, generosity, and spiritual encouragement that I have received from so many.  Your prayers have upheld me.  I am exceedingly grateful to God for the gift of colleagues and co-workers who have been exceedingly patient with me and deeply faithful in their own service.  Together we have made a difference in the life of Christ's Church in New Hampshire.  There will always be more that might  have been done, but we have served to the best of our God-given gifts--and we have changed hearts and lives with the grace and mercy of God in the process.  That is satisfaction.  That is a source of joy.

So, I conclude with these texts that fill my heart and undergird my hope today:

• In the words of Paul, "Therefore, since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart" (2 Corinthians 4:1, NRSV).  
• In the words of the author of Hebrews:  "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely,  and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us" (Hebrews 12:1, NRSV). 
• In the living word of Jesus, who continues to call:  "Follow me" (Mark 1:17, NRSV).

Holy One, who summoned me to serve as a little child in baptismal waters and in broken bread, your call continues to motivate and move me in ministry.  Thank you for all those who share life and ministry in your holy Church.  Thank you for those whose ministry changes the world in amazing ways.  May Jesus be glorified in what has been and in what is yet to come.  Amen.

Civility

There was a season some years ago when the ministerial alliance of which I was a member worked with the local VFW to create an essay contest for middle school students.  We believed that, beyond partisan political rhetoric, there was a need for reasoned rational discourse in our community and country.  Civility matters in our society.  In those days in that community, Rush Limbaugh was the media personality whose voice that many heard as virtuous and true.  I recall one evening at choir practice when the basses and the tenors started arguing about the merits of Mr. Limbaugh's commentary.  My contribution to the conversation, "He's saying everything my mom taught me not to say and to be," got the guys to thinking.  Their moms had taught them similar lessons.   

Those days seem tame to me compared to these days.  I should not be shocked that the biggest ego provokes followers with vitriolic rhetoric, calling others disparaging names and building barriers between peoples.  I should not be shocked that xenophobia and racism are still alive in our nation.   I should not be shocked that fear seems to defeat love today.  I should not be shocked, but I am.

The Jesus who summons me to follow is not one who divides with words of fear and hate.  He is not boastful or arrogant or rude.  Among his words are these:  "Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth."  "Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy."  "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God."  "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God."  (Matthew 5:7-9, NRSV).   I find in Jesus an alternative to the path many are walking today.  I find in Jesus an antidote to the spirit of maliciousness and meanness that permeates American politics in this troubled moment in our history.  I find in him a model of courage and civility worthy of emulating today.

God, who knows every heart and mind, whose speaking is creative and loving, steady my hope, strengthen my resolve to follow wherever you lead me to go.  Grant us all courage and compassion to bind up the wounds of our neighbors and to be kind, gracious, and generous to all.  Give us, O God, the mind of Christ now and always.  Amen.    

Facing into Our Trouble

When the news of the deaths of Alton Sterling in Baton Rouge last Tuesday and Philando Castile in a suburb of St. Paul on Wednesday, I had a flashback to August 9, 2014, the day when Michael Brown was killed in Ferguson, Missouri.  One tragedy connects us to all others.  Then came the massacre of law enforcement officers in Dallas during a peaceful protest on Thursday night.  A solitary sniper killed five police officers and wounded seven others.  My grief was compounded.  These killings are not about a distant race problem in places far removed from New Hampshire.  This is as close as our own hearts and minds.  This is our trouble.

I spent much time last week just trying to get all this sadness out of my soul, to push it far away and to focus on other things.  In the midst of my work, I still heard Alton Sterling's fifteen-year-old son wailing for his daddy. I saw the graphic videos and heard the shots reverberating in the streets.  The truth is there is no easy escape from this trouble.  Friends on Facebook, journalists, President Obama and the presumptive presidential candidates, pastors and preachers in the churches--all are talking about racism and the deadly fear and violence that have captured our country.  These events challenge Jefferson's lofty ideals:  "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men [sic.] are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."  All are created equal?  Life?  Liberty?  The pursuit of happiness?

And from our scriptures, we hear God speaking through the words of Paul, "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus"  (Gal. 3:28, NRSV).  I hear God speaking today to bridge our divisions:  "There is no longer black or white, powerful and powerless, privileged or deprived; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.  Differences still matter, but they do not divide.  

There is no hiding and no denying that we have a problem.  The trouble does not reside in someone else's house, it is in ours.  It is in our spirit.  It is evident the way that we judge others without ever knowing them.  It is evident in the way we select our friends and our social circles.  It is evident in who gathers in our houses of worship.  It is evident in the way that we separate and segregate--always offering ourselves as the standard that is superior to all others. 

Too much!  It is all too much today.  Of this I am sure:  This is the time for facing up to our trouble.  It is time to repent and allow our hearts to be touched and transformed.  It is time for a reconciliation that is born of hope that a better day is surely coming.  This is what the psalmist teaches us to sing:  "I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living"  (Ps. 27:13, NRSV).    I believe that I shall see God's justice rolling down, right here and right now, in this time--while there is yet time.

God, in your great wisdom and mercy, visit us in our trouble.
  We have witnessed the killing in our own streets.
  We have heard the wailing of children for their parents and parents for their children.
  We have seen peacekeepers killed in the line of duty.
  Our trouble is ever before us.

Who is innocent, O Righteous One? 
  We are all caught in these terrible cycles of fear and violence.
  We play roles that we do not fully understand.
  We speak and act in ways that perpetuate the trouble.
  Our trouble is ever before us.

God, let your justice wash over us.
  Bridge the brokenness.
  Let all peoples find their way together.
  Restore our trust; End our violence.
  Our trouble is ever before us,

O Suffering Christ, your love alone can set us free.
  Your love alone can raise us to new life.
  Your love alone can change us.
  May it be so . . . today.

Amen.







 

Churches in Bloom

Yesterday I had the privilege of being in worship with Northwood Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, as the congregation dedicated its restored building.  It was exciting to experience the hope and joy that are alive in this community of ministry and mission.  Friends and former members came "home" to testify to the role the church played in their lives.  While we do not worship our buildings, this place is made holy by its use--a place in which God gathers us, where walls are lowered and broken down, where friendships are constructed in Christ.  Northwood Congregational Church is a church in bloom.  God is doing great things here!

In the afternoon, I traveled to First Congregational Church of Croydon, United Church of Christ for the creation of a new covenant between the Grafton Orange Sullivan Association, First Congregational Church, and the Rev. Donna Lee Muise as the congregation's Pastor and Teacher.  It was a moving service of commitment that contained both laughter and tears.  The depth of relationship was evident in words of affection and appreciation, in promises made, in the new pastoral relationship that has begun.  This is a congregation that is building well on the foundation that others have constructed over many years.  There is anticipation and joy. First Congregational Church of Croydon is a church in bloom.  God is doing great things here!

The ministry to which I am called as the Conference Minister of the New Hampshire Conference of the United Church of Christ leads me to rejoice in God who still creates and calls the church to new life.  Many today lament the state of the church.  I hear the Risen Christ calling us forth to new life and new ministries.  Today I rejoice in the buds and blossoms that are all around us in the 135 local churches of the New Hampshire Conference.  God is indeed doing great things here!

O God, it's another Monday morning.  Today my heart sings for joy, for I have seen your Spirit stirring in the congregations of this Conference.  I see the gift of your future emerging.  I see the beautiful ways you renew and resurrect your people--your joyful, hopeful servant Church--in this new day.  Thank you!  Amen.

Lessons from Orlando

Restore us, O Lord God of hosts;
let your face shine, that we may be saved. 
(Psalm 80:3, 7,10 NRSV)

This is the refrain of a congregation in crisis.  The people sing out from their brokenness, praying that God will fix that which they cannot.  In the midst of the darkness, there is a longing for the light of God's face.

When Omar Mateen entered the Pulse nightclub in Orlando in the early hours of a Sunday morning, another terrible and tragic episode in US history began.  One hundred and two precious people were shot by one man.  Forty-nine people were killed in that massacre.  Orlando--a place of sunshine, resorts, and theme parks--is now marred by hatred, violence, and death.  

It has been a hard week for me.  I attended vigils during the past week and read aloud the names of the dead.  I've listened to sermons, read devotions, and reflected on the massacre.  I feel the need to write to add my own voice to those of courageous and compassionate pastors and teachers of the church who have spoken out about what has occurred in light of our Christian faith.  So these are my reflections on Orlando.  These are my emerging lessons from this tragedy:

While I was grateful to be in the crowds that gathered in New Hampshire to lament and grieve what had happened at Pulse, I kept thinking:  What do I need to do to make sure something like this never happens again?  Vigils are certainly important as we gather to witness to the Light that continues to shine in the darkness and to steady and encourage our broken hearts.  But, I am convinced, now is the time for people of faith, hope, and love to find their voice and change the world.

The church needs to say Open and Affirming (ONA) is more than a label; it is a commitment that this congregation is a safe sanctuary for all LGBTQ people.  ONA means that those who gather here promise to value you as a child of God, disciple of Christ, and member of the church.  This is a community where your voice matters--where your life and the life of those you love matter.  A lesson from Orlando:  We cannot be silent or passive about ONA and pretend that we don't need to discuss or discern what it means to welcome, affirm, and embrace all God's children.  The church needs to become a more safe sanctuary where God's light shines and love abounds to heal the brokenness and to bridge the differences.

I continue to be amazed at role of guns in our society.  It is as though weapons of war are our ultimate security.  When the Bill of Rights was drafted and adopted, the framers of the Second Amendment could not have anticipated the sophisticated weaponry that is now so prevalent in our nation.  That one individual could kill or maim over one hundred others in so short a time would have been inconceivable to the founders of this country.  It is time for lawmakers to find the conviction and courage to act--or we need to elect others who will.  Guns are not our salvation or our security. 

It is time that we moved from rhetoric that views the faithful in Islam with suspicion and fear.  Our Muslim neighbors are part of the same faith family from which we ourselves have come.  In every religious tradition--including our own--there are movements and voices that have done great harm.  A religion should be judged not by threats and violence of a few but by deeds of love and mercy that build up lives and lead to greater understanding and peace.  It is time to embrace others in our common humanity with acceptance and love.

In the beginning, God created from the dust.  In the end, God will be present to restore, redeem, and resurrect.  In the middle, may we pray and act to shape the world in ways that reflect God's own intent and hope for it.

O God, who restores the brokenness of hearts and lives, help us to change and to be changed.  Be with all who grapple with the massacre that has occurred in Orlando.  Stand with your precious LGBTQ people.   Bless our Muslim neighbors that they may be accepted and valued.  Strengthen our voices and our resolve to work for your justice and peace, and to live forward in your hope.   Amen.

On My Way Rejoicing!

I woke up in Jefferson City, Missouri this morning.  My time away has been rich with connections.  Yesterday, I was present for the 150th Anniversary of the United Church of Christ of California, Missouri--a church where I served as Pastor and Teacher during a formative time in our family's life.  It was humbling to return to people and a place that had been home.

What I found in California was a vital and lively congregation, as I had imaged that it would be.  There were children--almost thirty of them gathered at the Pastor's feet for the children's time.  The choirs sang for joy with words of harmony and hope.  The names of the saints flooded my memory and stirred my soul.  I am grateful to Pastor Andrew Lovins for his generous welcome and hospitality.    I offered the sermon for the day and will link to it here for those who might like to read what I said:  A Homily of the 150th Anniversary of the UCC of California

And now, it is time to leave for home.  I start the journey in a few minutes and will be home in Concord and back to my ministry with the New Hampshire Conference of the United Church of Christ later this week.  This has been a renewing time.  I leave this place that once was home with a joyful heart and a thankful spirit.  The God who calls us into communities of deep faith continues to support and sustain the Church and calls it to be an agent of resurrection hope now and in all the times yet to come.

Thanks be to God!

Remembering . . .

Memorial Day is past.  Summer is here.   There were no visits to family burial plots this year.  No services for me in the church cemetery.  No honor guard appearing before worship to salute the dead with a firing of guns.  No, my Memorial Day was rather calm and quiet, reflective in a different way.

Sunday, in worship, our Pastor invited us to name those soldiers who had been killed in service to the United States of America.  The list was not long, but the mention of names that were carried in hearts was a poignant and powerful moment.  One by one those names were again lifted before God in the pastoral prayer.

As I prepared for prayer, I remembered my four uncles who served in the military in World War II and Korea--Elmer, Ollie, Alan, and Harold.  They all returned from the war, but a neighbor and friend, Kenneth Emil Hoehne, did not.   He died in Germany while serving with General Patton's 3rd Army Infantry. 

I also remembered  L.Cpl. Leon Deraps, who died May 6, 2006, while serving in the Iraq.  His was the first war casualty that I remember from Moniteau County, Missouri.  His death left a family and community in deep grief.  I remembered as I prayed on Sunday.

And I think about how many of these young people did make a tremendous sacrifice--whether they died or whether they lived through the battles of war.  Many served because they were sent away from families and farms to fight.  They gave a significant time to serve.  Many came home in silence.  Something changed in them while they were away.  Many are still ill with the effects of what they experienced.

And so, I prayed on Sunday and pledged that I would do all I can to remember the names and know what I could to honor their sacrifices.  But I also prayed and pledged that I would do all I could to serve for peace in the world, so that others would not have lives interrupted by fighting and death.  That, it seems to me, is one of the best ways to cherish the memories of those who have given their all.

O God, in your tender mercy, enfold in your arms all who were lost in the fighting and their families who still remember in ways that we cannot.   Heal those broken spirits that have returned in silence with no voice to plead their cause.  Let justice roll down and let your peace prevail, now and forever.  In the name of the One who is the Prince of Peace.  Amen. 

Please Stay!

I remember a congregant named "Sam," who was a member of a church I served as a student a very long time ago.  Sam grew simultaneously dissatisfied with his church and with my ministry.  One Sunday he just disappeared and never came back.  We let him go.  I let him go.  We decided that life would be better without Sam's negativity spreading around to infect others.  Now, I'm not so sure we really did the right thing.  I was in my early twenties then; I'm sixty now.  The years and the experiences of ministry have helped me to see things very differently.  I wish I had said to Sam, "Please stay.  We really need you."  But I didn't do that.  The church didn't do that.

I often wonder what became of Sam.  Did he join some other church that appeared to be a better fit for him?  Did he turn his back on "organized religion" and never go to worship again?  I wonder if his experience started him on a lifetime of drifting from congregation to congregation, never satisfied and always easily ignored and quickly dismissed.  Confession time:  I not only remember Sam; I still miss him.  It was not right that we let him go without a blessing, a word of encouragement, or a conversation that communicated, "Please stay.  We need you to help us be a better church."

In the Gospel of John, the verb menw (meno) occurs about 40 times.  It means to abide, remain, or dwell.  Many of these occurrences are clustered in John 15, where Jesus identifies himself as the "True Vine."  Jesus says, "As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love.  If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love" (John 15:9-10, NRSV).  Jesus comes to connect and stay with us--even when we are difficult and disloyal disciples.  He puts up with us even as he works to transform, heal, and forgive us.  He loves us no matter what, as is evident in Good Friday's cross. 

That's also how I understand the word "covenant" in our heritage as members in the United Church of Christ.  Covenant is a relationship that includes a foundational promise to abide with another no matter what.  It's not easy to keep others close--especially those who challenge and criticize us.  Like Sam, they can make life difficult for pastors and everyone else; but it might just be possible that God is speaking through them too.  Covenant requires a commitment to remain connected with Christ and one another no matter what.

So Sam:  If you are reading this blog.  Please stay in the relationship.  Please be true to your own spirit and the Spirit of the Living God.  Engage me.  Engage us.  Don't go easily away.  We need you now and into God's future.  There is a place at the table for you and for all of us.  Please stay!

O God, it's your Church.  When we are tempted to reform it by encouraging others to leave and just disappear, change our minds and hearts.  Lord Jesus, please stay with us!  And teach us to say that to members of our faith communities who are disagreeable, discouraged, and disregarded:  "Please stay with us!  We need you."  Amen.

Encouragement for the Hard Times

Well, this is a day and a date that always take me back.  It was Easter Sunday (April 3, 1983), my first Easter after ordination; but I was not with my congregation that day.   Before the dawn on the Easter morning thirty-three years ago, my dad died.  It was a long journey from the diagnosis of cancer to the ending--many hard months of change and decline.  Finally, like some cruel twist to the sacred story, death came on Easter Sunday.  There might have been comfort in that--dying in in the hope of resurrection--but such comfort only came much later.  Easter in 1983 was a hard time.

I remember how in John's Gospel, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb before the dawn and discovered the tomb was open.  She met Jesus was alive again--raised from death to life.  In 1983, we gathered in a dim hospital room before the dawn and discovered that death still came even in the season of resurrection and new life.  It was not fair.  I felt cheated, angry, and sad on that Easter morning.  I missed my dad.  I missed my congregation.  It was a very hard thing to experience.  There was disappointment and disruption.  This ending was exceedingly hard.

Endings are not easy--even when they come with blessings attached.  It takes a while before "blessing" applies to such a loss.  It should not be pronounced too quickly by those who seek to bring comfort and consolation.  Sometimes beginnings are hard to bear, too.  Starting over after one's world changes abruptly is not easy.  Taking steps by faith into an uncertain future may be more than we can do--at least for a time.  It takes a certain kind of courage to face into a new beginning--meeting, greeting, and befriending strangers.  Mary and the disciples before us had to find courage to face new beginnings.  The presence of the Risen Christ brought its own pain and its own fear.  It took a while for the reality of resurrection to soak into one's soul.  It takes a while for the reality of the resurrection to transform broken hearts and a broken world.  It still does.

Recently, I discovered a song by Carrie Newcomer.  In You Can Do This Hard Thing, Newcomer sings words of encouragement--a pupil learning to do addition for the first time, friends parting so one can go on a journey, a late-night call in the midst of some crisis:  "You do this hard thing."  I think of the hard things that seemed impossible at some earlier seasons in my life.  I find encouragement in knowing that I finally did learn to tie my shoes, ride a bicycle, swim and face into harder challenges and disappointments.  I have discovered the encouragement of the gospel as the waves of grief have subsided.  I have picked up the broken pieces.  I have started over many times.

Endings will continue to come.  Beginnings will summon us to a new and uncertain futures.  Neither is easy.  But in the song I hear the proclamation of the gospel: "You Can Do This Hard Thing."  I know it is true.  Jesus--crucified and risen--is always near--even to the close of the age.  We are accompanied.  We are not alone.  We are never alone.  Thanks be to God.  Alleluia!  Amen.
 

A Long Week in Cleveland

I spend last week--a very long week--in Cleveland for meetings with colleagues from across the United Church of Christ.   In meetings of the United Church of Christ Council of Conference Ministers and the United Church of Christ Board, a common theme was transformation, the transformation of our denomination.   There was a sense of urgency among us:  This is our moment to be the Church.

Yes, the Church is changing.  The United Church of Christ is changing.  No doubt about it.  But I wonder whether we are claiming too much credit for the change that is happening.  Is it really all about our designs and dreams?  Are we as important as we think we are?  Does the call to be a minister (a servant) grant us the right and responsibility to dismantle what has been and be architects of what is to come?  Where is God in the midst of this change?

What I felt in Cleveland was a profound sadness.  While glimpsing the church we are becoming, grief swept through my spirit.  I found myself remembering and missing The Evangelines, a women's Sunday School class in a former church where I served as pastor and teacher.  This class was created in the 1920's, a very long time ago.  The class met for Sunday morning study and monthly fellowship and service.  I admired the way these women continued to combine study and service.  They were disciples of Jesus. They were faithfully relational.  They were the church at its best.  I suspect that this class may be gone now.  Yes, things change in the church.  "New occasions teach new duties."  But there needs to be room for change to come naturally--in God's good time.  Real transformation takes time.  It will not be forced by those who seek to initiate and control it.

As I took a walk in Cleveland last Friday, I discovered a solitary daffodil that had emerged after the cold winter.  The bud reminded me that something new is emerging from the wintry earth.  Though I will not be there to see it bloom, I saw hope in the bud.  I see even greater hope as we approach Easter, which holds the promise of transformation for us all: the change from death to life.  Christ's resurrection will not be forced.  It will not be managed or controlled.  It appears in God's good time, shrouded in mystery before the dawn.  It comes as a gift to be received and lived.  It is reason for exuberant joy.  I persevere in the hope of resurrection.  It's not about me, but it's about the God who raised Jesus from the dead--doing what I could not even imagine or control. 

Eternal One, thank you for the memory of those who have been the church, living with patient hope and persevering love.  Lead us forward in faith.  Let Christ's resurrection change and sustain us.  Let this be your moment!  May it be so.  Amen.

 

 

 

Sunday Morning, Before the Dawn

It's Sunday again.  I've been looking forward to this morning because it brings me into the orbit of others.  When the churches gather to sing praise, my soul is renewed in the singing.  When disciples offer their prayers, I also am reminded to pray.  When the churches gather, there is yet hope for the healing of the world.

I remember Sunday mornings from a time long ago, when I would spend Saturday nights with my grandparents.  On Sunday mornings we would rise before the dawn because Grandpa had to tend the cattle on the farm where he was employed.  We had several hours of work to do before we went to church.  I loved those Sunday mornings in the middle of the winter when I could go along to help feed the cows.  The air was crisp.  The frost was heavy on the pastures.  The cattle would be waiting at the gate for hay, silage, and generous scoops of grain.  It was feeding time on the farm.

And, this Sunday morning, as I prepare to visit the Congregational Church of Laconia and this afternoon as I visit the Maranatha Indonesian United Church of Christ and join the celebration of the twelfth anniversary of this immigrant church--I remember those special Sunday mornings on the farm.  Today brings a special opportunity to feed and to be fed in worship.  There will be wonderful food in the festivities of this day.  There will be rich food, the bread of life, that God provides in abundance for all.  How I need that food today!

May your Sunday morning be filled with the nourishing, enlivening presence of God.  Come to the waters.  Come to the bread that satisfies.  Come to the feast.

Gracious God, I need to taste and see your goodness today.  Bless all who seek and all who find you as they gather today.  Nourish in us your peace.  Amen.

I Went to Church Last Sunday

Surely you will say to me, "What?  You went to church last Sunday?  You always go to church!  You're the Conference Minister.  Of course you went to church."

Yes, that is true.  I go to church a lot--to worship, to meet with members, to encourage and to pray, to sit in the presence of Jesus, to glorify and praise God.  There have been very few times when I have not wanted to be in church on Sunday morning.  This has been my centering spiritual practice for a long, long time. 

On Sunday, which was both Valentine's Day and the First Sunday in Lent, I traveled to the Community Church of Hudson, which is one of our smallest local churches.  There on a cold, clear morning with temperatures well below zero, I found the warmth of Christian community.   The faith was proclaimed and taught, Communion was shared, and I was at home.  Hudson reminded me of the tiny church on the border between Missouri and Iowa--Livonia United Methodist Church--where the United Methodists welcomed me as their Sunday morning preacher while I was in college.  That little congregation of eight members was formative in my call and has been foundational my care for small-membership churches.  The Community Church of Hudson, United Church of Christ is a community to be cherished in the New Hampshire Conference as it worships God and serves God's people.

This church was in the news last month because a small truck crashed through a front window and landed inside the fellowship hall.  The damage is extensive and is still evident.  What stirs my soul about this story is how--on the very day that the crash occurred--the church continued to serve the poor in its community by distributing food through a back door in that fellowship hall.  The Community Church of Hudson serves in the midst of adversity.  It sees Christ in those whom others might easily overlook, especially when the church has reasons to be distracted and discouraged by its own problems.  The Spirit of Christ abides here!

I am reminded of Paul's words:  "When one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it." (I Cor. 12:26, NRSV).   We are all connected in Christ.  I am so very glad that I went to church last Sunday. 

Thank you, Gracious and Gathering God, for the Community Church of Hudson, United Church of Christ!  Amen.

End of an Era

Confession time:  It is not easy for me to admit that the world is changing.  I am tempted toward to denial as a coping mechanism.  Continuity between the past, present, and future is comforting.  Endings are hard, for I tend to hold tightly to memories of what has been--the people and places where I have served.  Lord, have mercy!  Christ, have mercy!  Lord, have mercy!

When I was in junior high, Clarence Hengstenberg knocked on our door and asked whether I would be interested in working for him.  Mr. Hengstenberg, a former dairy farmer, was now a milk distributor for Central Dairy.  He delivered milk every evening, except Sunday, to homes around the community.  He hired me for $6.60 a week--a dollar and a dime a night--to be one of his four delivery boys.  We literally ran the milk cartons to the door, sliding across icy porches and slipping past growling dogs.   This was my first real job. 

Imagine how it felt a couple of weeks ago when a newspaper in Missouri ran the story of the end of home deliveries by Central Dairy:  Central Dairy Closes Door on Home Delivery.  With that announcement came the end.  Folks no longer need a milk delivery at their doors.   We do not live by milk alone.  Milk deliveries are not going to keep senior citizens living in their own homes longer.  We might as well buy the dairy at the Walmart across town.  Home delivery no longer made sense in Central Dairy's business plan.  The world has changed.  My first job isn't being done by anyone in Mid-Missouri now.  It's over.

Now, I wonder about ministry, including this specialized ministry called "Conference Ministry."  It began with the stirring of the Spirit and with the call of Jesus who said, "Come, follow me."  The calling of the twelve disciples and the commissioning of the seventy apostles were always favorite stories at Sunday School and Vacation Bible School.  The old hymn, "Where He Leads Me I Will Follow," runs deep in my spirit.  And just look where Christ has led me!

I wonder whether the day is here when the headlines Saturday's Concord Monitor tell of the end of another era.  For me, ministry has been anchored in a call that takes us to the doors--of congregants, of hospitals and nursing homes, of the poor, and of the dying.  Ministry, even Conference Ministry, is about being face-to-face with those whom Christ also loves.  For nearly thirty-five years, my ministry has involved preaching, praying, and being present with people.  It has included service and sacrifice.  It has been a source of joy.

That understanding of ministry seems antiquated today.  Many in the pews of our churches no longer expect such things of their ministers.  It's not how we do things in a digital world.  Why would a minister take the time to drive (or fly) somewhere to be with someone in their sorrow or suffering?  What a waste of resources!  Sending an email or posting on Facebook should be sufficient now.  Real ministry happens on the screens of our devices.  

From my first job to my present one, I sense that I may well be at the end of an era.  What I have done others may not do or even value in the future.  But of this I am confident:  I have followed One whose story ends in resurrection.  I have this powerful assurance that the Christ who calls me still makes house calls and heart calls.  I have this hope--this empowering hope--that God is present in every ending and brings life in the midst of death.  I have this hope in my living and in my dying:  God is faithful even at the end of an era.