The other side of Iowa

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Under the floor
Between me and the door
There's a presence I cannot deny
It's under the car
Between me and the stars
I see glory filling up the sky

And I'm certain that He hears me
He listens even as I sing my song
I'm emphatic that He's near me
And I can see His touch in everything here

-switchfoot

The sky is bright, like it is really day shot through a night filter like an old movie. I see for miles, I can look down coutry roads and into small towns as I speed by. I feel connected to them. I'm sure it is because I am connected to the God who's Glory is around me!

On our way

Right now we are on our way to Nebraska to visit my parents. I am sitting in one of the Iowa rest stops (at mile 300 on I80) that offers free WiFi. It is great.

Friday we went to the Moravian's Christmas eve service. I remembered how much more meaningful Christmas seems when holding a baby. I guess between the Putz, the sermon this morning about the great story and our journey right now, I have seen a theme in God's dealings with me. I will follow.

PoMoPLecBlo

I got thinking today about what my lectionary blog would be if it were abbreviated. I kept going on about pomoplecblo. It is my favorite tongue twister today. I started calling Ella Plec girl and Foster Blog man. When Elaine asked Ella where her bib was and I said pomobiblo, she said I'll pomo you, which in her world means she will pummel me.

Ella, our little princess turned two Thursday. We've been learning how our family dynamics have changed with another child. I see God through the love and my own sinfulness when trying to hold the family together in the face of frustration and split attentions. I think that may be a good illustration of what I have been feeling lately. Split, with glimpses of the Holy behind it all.

The Correct Answer

QUEEN. Finally he said "Death." I nudged the King-
KING. Accepting the word "nudge" for the moment, I rubbed my ankle with one hand, clapped him on the shoulder with the other, and congratulated him on the correct answer. He disappeared under the table, and, personally, I never saw him again.
QUEEN. His body was found in the moat next morning.
CHANCELLOR. But what was he doing in the moat, Your Majesty ?
KING. Bobbing about. Try not to ask needless questions.

"The Ugly Duckling" -A. A. Milne

The two women who have had the biggest influence on my ministry here in Sebewaing are people I barely knew. Sister Ella Lohermann's funeral was earlier this year. I ran across a copy of her funeral service today, the first I have ever performed. All I knew about this dear lady was that though she was in a nursing home she was ever faithful to our church. She had a newspaper clipping about our arrival in her Bible. I knew that she love us and prayed for us.

When my family went to visit her in the hospital, we came wanting to pray for her, to minister to her. Instead what I found continues to minister to me to this day. I entered a room filled with the warm presence of God. As she spoke to us, she punctuated her sentences with her continual conversation with her precious Jesus and comments about how beautiful our own Ella was. She prayed over my ministry, over me, over my family, she was already in the presence of the Holy one, one foot in eternity. I remember that my cheeks flushed and I held her hand not wanting to leave that sacred place.

The other woman is being buried tomorrow. Sister Dearing served with her husband as pastors here for 10 years. Their term here ended only by John's death in 1995. They were loved and a dear couple to the church body. Sister Dearing was present at our installation and prayed for Elaine, passing the flame on to her. A picture of that moment hung in the funeral home, I wept to see. Over the year that we've served, she sent us about eight notes of encouragement, saying that we reminded her of she and John when they were young in the ministry. I felt kindred to her. I felt her prayers. I melted at her encouragement.

These dear saints of the old bloodline connected me with the living history of our congregation, but more importantly they were used of God, Angels and flames of fire, ministering to me, and all who knew them. I sat in the funeral home today in silence meditating. It is good to meditate on a life well spent, on death.

Yesterday I had an EGD Scope, a minor surgery taking biopsies from my stomach. I could have died. A thought made all the more real by complications in the operating room. The iv was kinked and I began waking up in the middle of the procedure. They tell me that I flailed; they had to move the iv to the other hand and start over. In the process I inhaled some bile, which has made recovery more painful.

The thing is going into it, and even now, death doesn't scare me. I welcome entering the kingdom of the God I so desperately long for. I know my family will be well taken care of, in good hands. My wife though doesn't like the idea much. I made some flippant comment about the insurance money and she was angry. Perhaps "to live is Christ, and to die is gain," is not fully formed in me that I treat life and death with joke. Perhaps that is just the way of men.

Tomorrow brings more meditation, and goodbyes to another dear saint going home.

[Listening to: Be Glorified - Passion - Better Is One Day (05:30)]

Holy days

Holidays are nice. Yesterday was a wonderful change of pace. I cooked dinner, but even that didn't stress me out. The dinner went together so efficiently that our only problem was that I was done an hour and a half before I was supposed to be. We had my famous double glazed honey ham, equally famous baked hashbrowns, corn, stuffing, biscuits. Mmm, Mmm.

The day was like a pacific island in the middle of a turbulent sea of stress. Holy Leisure, a Sabbaths rest for this pastor who has a tough time observing that commandment. It is not that I work to hard, but rather I am not disciplined enough to make my rest holy.

Yesterday was a holy day. Even today is full of holiday rest. My mouth is lifted, both in smiles and in praise.

Obscene trees

My wife handed me this postcard from one of our larger churches. She looked at me, her head tilted, surprise a smile as she waited for my reaction. I looked at it trying to figure out what she wanted me to see. Was it a presentation of "Scrooge" like they put on at Summit? It didn't look like it. What could it be?

A few seconds went by... Silence.

Then I see it... And I screamed. Out loud.

Stare at the picture in silence, count to thirty and then scream in fright, and you may understand the absurdity of the moment. I realized what I was looking at was a "Singing Christmas Tree." Faribault did a singing Christmas tree. The first year they borrowed the contraption from a church up north. The second year, they decided to build their own tree. It took up the majority of the large platform requiring building of extentions. It reached almost to the top of the vaulted cieling. Once built it had to be used every year. As obscene as it size was the effort, argument and stress that went into what they thougth was their main way to fufil the great commission. I can only recall a few even coming forward, and I know there wasn't follow up.

The tree makes me angry. It got me started looking to be a relational church rather than one wrapped up in its programs and politics.

All those feelings came rushing back when I saw the tree forming the triangle on the lower half of the postcard. I screamed. I tore the card in two and my wife threw it away. I pulled it out of the trash to share it with you.

Labyrinth actualized

Last night I walked a sacred path. I walked with God. I could feel, as I twisted and turned around the labyrinth, my body grow warm. That seems to be the way the body reacts to Spirit. Even when praying for someone you can see their cheeks flush when God is moving on them, or so I learned in college.

My legs tingled, my whole body seemed bathed in the presence of God. When I went into the rosette, the space in the middle, each pedal held a different concept for my meditation. I followed a traditional contemplation of creation. Especially coming to thinking on human kind, I paused before stepping in. The pain of the fall and all our aspirations to know God flowed through my mind. There I lingered a bit. Finally when I came to contemplating the Unknowable Boundless Deity, I hesitated greatly before entering. Then when I lingered in that spot of meditation, my body felt aflame. It felt as though flames licked my hair as long as I stood there. I took my glasses off and wept into my hand.

On the way back out talking with God, I felt like he still hadn't answered any of the questions I sit with, but again he is there with me. I felt him saying through his touch that his presence was my consolation.

When I came out of the labyrinth I reflected on the community aspect of the experience. I had always imagined waling a labyrinth in some lonely place, alone. Passing people praying and meditating was a grace in itself. I watched my friend Rich walk, as he was the last. I watched as he paused in prayer, those moments were dear to me. Even sitting in my seat I felt the Spirit flood over me again, perhaps the way he was at that moment pouring over Rich.

At home as I was falling asleep I could still feel the presence of God bathing me. God is so gracious. I stand in awe of you Lord, that you would meet our seeking hearts even in the midst of a maze, a plaything for our bodies with divine consequence. I adore you, and feel a deep hunger to step into a deep communion of devotion.

[Listening to: Jesus Be Golrified - Skillet - Ardent Worship Live (04:39)]

Space

My office, even the sanctuary is not friendly to my contemplation. My devotional life is marked by restlessness, when I grow restless in my study, I'll go pray until the restlessness passes and I can think again. So much calls my attention and makes me uneasy around what is my workplace.

I've never thought before about my interaction with my environment as an important element to my spiritual formation. I have long been an atmosphere junkie. I love those spaces where the atmosphere is just right, like the coffee shop. I can breathe in the aromas, feel the warmth of my cup and the vapors rise to my face. I find it easy to meet with God there. It's great, but it is a half hour drive to the nearest coffee shop.

I put ten candles on a table in the cleanest corner of my office, next to the couch. This is my first day experimenting with making my space holy. I framed my activities and places with prayer. When I came in this morning I lit the candles and sat in the dark listening for a while. I'm also drawn to praying the Divine Office, or something like it that would be rhythmic. I am interested in the rhythmic ebb and flow, consolation and desolation.

[Listening to: Adding To The Noise - Switchfoot - The Beautiful Letdown (02:51)]

disconnect

Spiritual Direction is kicking my butt. I never thought just talking about where God is taking me would drive me so deeply to discipline. After our conversation, my director picks something for me to sit with, to listen. It is not like being held accountable for my devotional life, and it's not that this month between meetings with my spiritual director has been marked by unusual discipline, but rather I see how dear those times are to me, and how much opportunity has passed me by.

The last couple weeks my blog entries have been sparse. There were times when journaling that I would see gaps a month long. I don't know what was going on during those times. This last couple of weeks though has been a time of desolation. I haven't sat to listen to God, or at least, when I have, I haven't heard well. What I have received applied to my sermon, but was not quick to engage my own heart (?) so that it appeared in my lectionary writings rather than here. Yet, I love him. Yet, I worship him. Yet, I yearn for his Glory.

Lord, I long for your consolation, but do not begrudge this time of growth. Strengthen me, discipline me, and bring my life, my space, my time, and my responsibility into line with your whispers. Thank you.

My vote, the day after

I’m saddened today. The election results have left me confused. I am confused about what it means to be a Christian in a political world. I grew up a republican, but over the last few years I have abandoned the grand old party.

No party really represents my values. As a Christian I feel I must take elements from both. Middle of the road? Yes, but those middle of the road politicians take the opposite elements that I would. Perhaps the continuum from conservative to liberal is a circle, and I am on the other side of the circle from the moderates. What does that make me? A radical moderate? An anti-moderate?

At any rate, I felt this year that being a democrat my values would align on more issues. I mean what do I agree with the Republicans on anyway? The place of Christianity in society. The ending of abortion. To a lesser degree affirming the heterosexual lifestyle.

The democrats share my values when it comes to passive resistance, social justice, gun control, gay rights or any other civil right, environmental stewardship, humanitarian aide, education funding, and they don’t presume to legislate a change of heart. I figured that if I was going to let any group suffer it should be me. Let them take on the Christians. Bring some persecution, through defeat we find victory.

But those damned Christians came out to “vote their values” and wound up with Bush for four more years. God where will that take us? I trust you. I do.

Does this mean that I was wrong to look to extend mercy, grace and justice in your name? Does this mean that Christians around the country have confused biblical values with political conservatism?

Maybe, but God you are in control, aren’t you. I trust you, I do.

What do I do now? I will go on promoting biblical values here, bring social justice by my own hand where I can, and continue to engage system.

Viva la resistance!

Jesus, comfort Ella

My parents left tonight. We wanted to wait until Ella went to bed so the goodbyes wouldn’t be so painful. I thought it was best for Ella, and Grandma couldn’t handle seeing Ella’s face as they left.

We all didn’t really want Ella to go to bed and have our time together, a family, end. We let her stay up. It wasn’t until 10:30 that we tried to put her down. She was over-tired and maybe sensed something was going on. She didn’t want to leave Grandma and Grandpa to go upstairs. As she was waving good night she began to cry.

We hurried so they could leave. Ella’s cries from her bed could be heard in every stillness. We prayed and hugged and they headed out to the bus.

As they were leaving Elaine and I felt sad for Ella, She didn’t get to say goodbye to the big bus, she would wake up tomorrow to an emptiness. Perhaps this wasn’t the best way for her. We heard a thump upstairs and some crying.

We found her, fallen out of bed. I scooped her up and held her, the very thing I was anxious to do as her cries pierced our silence. Elaine sang a lullaby as I rocked her. I prayed that God would hold her through the night, singing to her, and give her peace, that she would know real love tonight.

My last desperate prayer I couldn’t give words, silently I prayed, “Lord, I give you my daughter as you gave me your Son. Take care of her”

Good week! (I hope)

My parents are coming this weekend along with my brother J.D. Their main reason for coming is to meet the little guy, but I am glad to see my family. In addition to that, I convinced dad to preach this weekend. With my freedom from sermon preparation (with the exception of my lectionary blog) I am going to engage in some writing (see my new post on my short story blog) and catch up on some visitation (1/3 down).

I managed to overcome a strong anxiety to visit a parishioner today. It was a great visit. I knew if I just did it, that it would be difficult but rewarding. Lord help me to be disciplined in the face of strong emotions like fear, anxiety and saddness. How I need you!

I sure hope this is a productive week. I need to create a director's book for the chistmas play I am directing for the community theatre and it would be nice to get a jump on a few sermons. It will still be full even though my main responsibility for the week will dad's. If anyone has any thoughts on this weeks lectionary, help me out with some comments!

Labyrinth

At ministerial today we had an exciting discussion about labyrinths. I have tried meditating with an online labyrinth, so I was cuirous if any of the guys had experiene with the real thing. Turns out there will be a mobile prayer labyrinth at a local high school November 10th. I can't wait.

Chuck shared his experience praying through a labyrinth that took him three and half hours. Cliff said that at a convent he went to in south Michigan the labyrinth had stones that marked the place for the nuns who found they could go no further that day. Wow. The power of God meets the seeking mind.

Ah... The contemplative life.

Paper cups

I ran out of cone filters for my coffee machine, so I took one of the big wrap around squares for the percolator and folded it into a paper cup. I remember when I learned how to fold origami paper cups.

It was Sunday school, third grade I think. One of my friends had learned it in school and taught us. I remember this day not for coloring the inside of my cup, but for what happened after church.

There was a boy, who came to church that day, who we thought was strange, and dirty, and dressed funny. He didn’t belong. I didn’t belong either; I was the pastor’s kid fighting for acceptance after three years in the church. I treated this boy, coloring his cup, with an arrogant cruelty.

After the service my brother and I fought over who had to sit with him in the back seat. We didn’t hide our distain for this boy as we rode over dirt and tracks and miles of ground to a shack in the country.

Often I have looked back on this day, my heart torn apart. In every way this innocent boy was me and I hated him.

Today, it strikes me that dad must have been painfully disappointed in us that day. I would be disappointed if my kids acted like we did.

Before making my coffee this afternoon, I had my first meeting with my Spiritual Director. As he acted a Zozama and mirror to my soul, I found myself struggling with guilt and duty. Am I doing all that I should be as pastor? Am I living up to the great responsibility that I feel? How does my father feel about me today?

Lord I will listen for you. Are you proud or disappointed? Will you come to my aid?

Fire

I went to the church today, in thought and prayer I built a fire in our fire pit. I wish that it was as easy to tend the Consuming Fire in the Church. There was a chunk of old pew, underneath was a tremendous heat. When I stirred it, the energy spread.

I imagined that was me, sitting on the coals of The Presence. What gets in the way of my discipline? I am good at talking my theories and values, but do I rely on them to supliment for lack of discipline and the presence?

God! Stir me up. Stir us all up!

The Joy's of Blogging

I'm so giddy today-my new lectionary blog was picked up at textweek.com. My thanks to Jenee Woodard for her faithfulness to that site. Her work has been invaluable to me since I decided to try my hand at preaching the lectionary months ago.

I have three blogs now! What joy... they give me a place to organize my thoughts. They give me motivation and discipline. Stakes are higher when I think somebody might by reading. I have been into journaling for years, but used to find that there would be month long gaps-not so here.

The blogosphere has turned out to be a great place to put myself and let God's grace move on me. As I read--as I write, He is here. I can look back, as I often do with my college ruled notebooks and see the journey, and weep at the beautiful plot.

Lectionary blog

If you are interested in my thoughts on the RCL text for the week, I have decided to start a lectionary blog and will be posting those ideas over there. Come on over with me if you'd like...

William Blake--Infant Joy

William Blake Infant Joy:

"'I have no name;
I am but two days old.'
What shall I call thee?
'I happy am,
Joy is my name.'
Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!
Sweet joy, but two days old.
Sweet Joy I call thee:
Thou dost smile,
I sing the while;
Sweet joy befall thee! "

Tory read this poem on the DVD my family sent us. It has been in my mind much this last week of infant joy.

We took Foster to the hospital for blood work again today. Friday we took him because of his jaundice to check his bilirubin levels. They are aproaching normal now. :)

This of course reminded me how much obsessive joy I took in saying bilirubin two years ago when Ella went through the same tests. It has inspired me to make Billie-Reuben sandwiches.

Imagine this for a modified Reuben, a toasted piece of swirled rye, mayo, lettuce, Swiss, peppered corned beef, more Swiss, sliced cukes, sprouts, maybe even more Swiss, honey mustard and a swirled rye lid. A Billie-Reuben.

Bay City Coffee and Tea Revisited (Review)

Bay City Coffee and Tea is back in my good graces. Jeff the barrista confirmed that they don't use "Big Train" powdered crap like the ice rage. The signs are just up for something to look at. Right on! Highjack corporate brand recognition.

Tonight I came for a bluegrass jam and stayed for a discussion about biblical historicity put on by Grace Christian Fellowship. Jeff asked me what I thought, and here it is: It was pretty good, a little more didactic and less relational than I might like, but it was inoffensive and has great potential.

It all started from The Da Vinci Code, a book I have yet to read. They wanted to clear up the historical divergence in the novel so that it didn't become an "urban ledgend." The presenters upheld the nature of Christ and the scriptures while the PoMo crowd questioned how the cannon came to be. All in all an engaging evening.

My sugestion:
Perhaps they could select a topic that offers true open dialog where the biblical world view offers many options for discussion. That may allow the guys to come off the high stools and become participants in a wider discussion, building trust and relationship.

the blue chicken: pluralist pizza with all the toppings?

the blue chicken: pluralist pizza with all the toppings?

A thought provoking response to my question...

Profit

“They say you’ve got this friend, born out in Bethlehem
Some contend that he is mightier than any man
And those who disagree as to his sovereignty
Are called devil-loving, rubber-wearing-pagans damned.
I am impressed but not fooled
It looks like they sold you some of that too.

Trying to make a profit
Trying to make a profit
Trying to make just a little bit of profit off it.”

—the mammals (Profit)

Is our evangelical Christianity a bastard of capitalism? Do we approach the kingdom of God thinking the ideals of western commerce are Biblical?

Jesus certainly makes it clear that the economy of the Kingdom is opposed to the world. Suffering brings victory, slavery-freedom, death-life, and poverty-riches.

Yet so often it seems our efforts to evangelize degrade into making another kind of profit. Surely we’re not as concerned with money as is popularly supposed, but so often we treat people as so much change. We trade in souls and barter with eternity.
Is there an economic model that would change the way we treat people in the church? one that values life and relationship rather than profit?

Foster James Hooton (1 day old) More here

New Baby

Foster James Hooton breathed his first today at 9:46 pm. Weighing 8lb, 8ozs and measuring 21½ inches, he is the latest little thing to turn my world upside down.

I sit looking into his sweet little face struggling to figure out the world outside his protective womb, and I wonder. What will this face become, what future awaits him. Will he be handsome? Winsome? Kind? Oh God, the joy that rushes in on me, along with tears in my eyes.

My head nods, “ah yes—the deed in the pot.” My mind continues to mull the text for tomorrow’s service, perhaps all the more since I never made it to the church for coffee and prayer.

Though we go through times of pain, though we travail, and labor, still our Sovereign Lord holds out a future. Thank you.

Writing

I've been having a hard time writing my sermon. I have the basic plot going on, now I have to artfully weave the aplication. Hmm... maybe some prayer and coffee at church this afternoon will get me up to speed.

Things inevitably turn in such a way that I am facing crunch time on Saturday. It is a good thing that Tuesday was so good. Wednesday was eaten up with doctor's visits, it was Foster's due date, but he is still causing mama's belly some pain.

Thursday I went to Bay City Coffee and Tea with hopes of writing. But I became wrapped up with the internet, I don't remember if it was my blog or others... It was so frustrating that I didn't even enjoy reading Tozer for Bible study that night. I just skimmed a great chapter. The discussion was amazing.

Friday Elaine was getting restless, so we went for a drive around the top of the thumb and saw the Pointe Aux Baroques light house along with other sights.

The library was good to me today

I am sitting in front of the library on the sidewalk with my computer. I had a meeting to go to so I left the library at 3:00 and now it is closed. I simply had to return to pay homage.

The few hours I spent here were very productive. My sermon is where it normally is Thursday or Friday. I had a chance to read all my blogging buddies as well.

A common source of meditation in the blogosphere today was money. Strange. Jeremiah doesn't deal with money as directly as the gospel text this week, but still I find myself meditating on that more than anything. There is certainly a stewardship involved in the Jeremiah text. It comes with a recognition that there is a future beyond the circumstance. Is my life like a deed in the pot saved for the future God has planned for me? or do I like Dives spend and waste my life?

Ah, but now my contemplation is ruined by WiFi Vigilante man telling me that accessing the library's free WiFi from the sidewalk is illegal. I have a suspicion that free WiFi itself gets in his craw, because he wants it to be only for the elite SUV driving wireless geeks such as he. Hmm, it sucks being on the upper lower-class side of the class war as well as being beaten down by the man.

money, money, money, money.

How rich are you? >> I'm loaded. It's official. I'm the 822,871,928 richest person on earth!

Ah ... money. What I could do without it.

In meditating on money check out the Gospel of Suply Side Jesus.

Pic of my vintage shoes

Apprehending God

Pursuit of God: "But the very ransomed children of God themselves: why do they know so little of that habitual conscious communion with God which the Scriptures seem to offer? The answer is our chronic unbelief. Faith enables our spiritual sense to function. Where faith is defective the result will be inward insensibility and numbness toward spiritual things. This is the condition of vast numbers of Christians today. No proof is necessary to support that statement. We have but to converse with the first Christian we meet or enter the first church we find open to acquire all the proof we need."

Tears come to my eyes when I read this. O that my head were a spring of water, and my eyes a fountain of tears. I cry out for myself, that my faith falters and I become numb to the reality of God. I cry out because I am responsible for a people of numbness. The weight of the responsibility presses on me.

RENOVARE - Invitation

RENOVARE - Invitation

Ah Richard J. Foster...

We are doing some crazy stuff at church. Sunday Mornings we show scenes from the life of Jeremiah (the blue puppet). Complete with set containting all Jeremiahs visions and object lessons, it has been fun.

Life without local news?

Local CBS affiliate WNEM TV5 recently aired a commercial asking: what would life be like with out local news? How would you know what is happening in the state, where would you get information about storms?

I suggest that life would be better with out local news. Instead of sound bites and sensational hooks to keep us watching we could find news by reading in depth articles from papers that take their responsibility seriously (which is rare these days). We could also get a vast amount of world news that is missed by rating-centric TV news from reputable sources like NPR. A simple weather radio would keep us safe, especially when the power goes out.

All in all local TV news is not necessary. If our news was not predigested bites recycled on every channel, peppered with video press releases, I think we would have a shot at being a well informed people.

Coffee Tree Cafe Review

I went to the new Coffee Tree Café today. It is across the river from downtown Bay City, what is that? Uptown? It has the atmosphere down. Tables of dark mahogany or oak, funky black chairs set off a light airy texture. It has the culture of a hep cat. The Metallic Green espresso machine pulls together a vintage theme—the pigment on the canvas of high ceilings, Art Nouveau metal work and chandeliers.

The tea is arranged in its own wooden box. They serve the uncultured Ice Rage, though the barrista admits she has never been asked to make one. They also have many decent espresso drinks at nice prices listed in colored chalk on four simple black boards.

Overall I like the place. I would love it if they had WiFi and replaced the leather couch with a vintage Deco model, the barrista independently agreed. The place has tremendous potential, their success rests on whether they tap in to the coffee culture or start down the slippery slide away from the culture that created it. Well, hey not every place can be Goodbye Blue Monday!

The Pursuit of God

The Pursuit of God: "Hearts that are `fit to break' with love for the Godhead are those who have been in the Presence and have looked with opened eye upon the majesty of Deity. Men of the breaking hearts had a quality about them not known or understood by common men. They habitually spoke with spiritual authority. They had been in the Presence of God and they reported what they saw there. They were prophets, not scribes, for the scribe tells us what he has read, and the prophet tells us what he has seen."

Ah-- Tozer. My heart yearns to be broken again. I know what that will mean, lamentation like Jeremiah, pain, discipline. Yet all that seems nothing and indeed is quickly forgotten in the sweet presence of God.

I've felt it- the manifest presence of God! Oh how I miss it. He leaves me with the sure and unshakeable knowledge that He is always with me. Yet I lay in bed blogging to avoid my thoughts devoid of his presence.

Oh sweet Presence, tear away the veil again. Let me see your sweet face. I know this means tearing self from self, and I welcome the breaking of my heart! Batter my heart three personed God!

Fall

The sun danced across lush green grass at the church today. Though it was still warm today, I felt something in the air that reminded me of fall.

For some reason fall is the time of the year when I am most nostalgic and at the same time most open to the present moment. In the cool breezes I am aware of the Pneuma—Breath of God.

I surveyed the flowers and blue sky, and the light in them spoke to me of God’s love and communion with me. That all creation rejoices, that his family alights my heart.

O Lord truly immerse me in more of those fall days when you were real to me, when you knocked me down, and shocked my senses.

My Family at Grandma's House (less Tory and Annie)

So much for family values

Dylan's lectionary blog: "Jesus is saying here that his mission will divide people from one another. Specifically, Jesus says that his mission will divide families, setting children against parents and parents against children.

So much for 'family values.' Why on earth would Jesus say such a thing?"

At their best, our family values are based on Old Testament ethics. They teach us how to act as a family with honor, respect and obedience.

Jesus seems more postmodern in his interpretation. Family isn't defined by blood but by relationship. He calls those on the journey of faith with him his family. So what matters for us is not what it means to be a family, but more importantly what it means to be a community of faith--the family of God.

This is something I haven't been able to completely wrap the folds of my brain around. What does that mean for the "family ministry" model I've tried to develop? One thing that jumps at me is that having children integrated into the community of faith at times such as worship is all the more important, not simply because they need to be with their families, but precisely because their family is now different from the blood nucleus it was before Christ.

People watching at Bay City Coffee and Tea (and review)

I came down to the coffee shop hoping to write. Last night I felt fanciful and full of reverie, I felt impelled to write, but I was in bed, and sufficed to head to the coffee shop today.

Of course, it took me too long to get out of the house, and after the half hour drive here, I don't feel like going through with it... Writing.

So I watch the few people here. The only live ones are a couple who met here for coffee, there is the excitation and light on their faces of discovering romances. As they turn toward each other on the loves seat, sipping their ice rage coffee drinks, I notice neither of them wear a ring. The light of puppy love is some how refreshing to my imagination in a couple, dare I say? past their prime. The other two men sit alone sipping tall house cups of undoubtedly strong coffee. They strike me as being pastors, because who else would be studying alone on a Saturday?

That simple observation makes me miss Derrick and Clint that much more. How much easier would my task today be sitting across a table from them at Caffeine Dreams writing my sermon as they work another chapter to a novel or some other worthy work?

Speaking of the Great CD and Big Dog and Double "D" I wonder what they would think of this, place of my choosing today... Bay City Coffee and Tea has a whole lot more atmosphere than Espresso Express, but I admit I don't understand their business model. I thought they were going for the quality niche because all their drinks were overpriced, but they recently started serving the Big Train Ice Rage drinks my two love birds were drinking earlier. (They are currently enjoying an awkward interruption by the woman's daughter's piano teacher.)

We served the Ice Rage at Sehnerts, it annoyed me because every one came in to order this "great new thing," and we had been serving blended iced lattes forever. I wanted to tell them I could make them something better. This powdered excuse for a drink has no business being a part of coffee culture. It belongs in the convenience store next to the candy coffee capuccino machine! Sorry for the rant, but I may have to find another place to hang around if this coffee shop is headed down the slippery slope of profits over culture.

How does all this relate to the clay in the potter's hand? Finding the answer is my task for the next hours, I scrapped my initial attempts at it. The potter was crazy. I had him saying:

"You see this vase, how beautiful it is? It is beautiful isn't it? Don't you find it beautiful? Yes? Well, today I am going to make a vase more beautiful than this. It will be so beautiful, you've seen nothing like it, it will put this vase to shame. Compared to it this vase will be ugly. Puh, I spit on it. I will smash this vase, it will be so ugly!"

Not like the omnipotent God of wrath and love who's hands we are in.

At any rate now that I am warmed up and my cup is empty, I will get another AA and get back to work. (Ah the pastoral life!)

Clay in the potter's hand

Bible Gateway : JER 18:1-11;: "Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand"

It is a fearful thing to be in the hands of God. He molds us and shapes us as he plans. There is a great cost though to us. He shapes us as it seems best to him. His desire for each of us, seekers and oblivious alike, is to shape us into something beautiful and useful. Something that can remind the world of his presence and glory.

Impure clay frustrates the potter, the beauty he sees in his mind does not work its way out in his fingers. The potter has no choice but to punch the lump back down and form something else.
For israel impurity meant destruction. God reformed them and brought glory to himself in a fearful way. He destroyed and exiled them for 70 years, only to rebuild a remnant.

Have I counted the cost of being in the potters hands? Do I resist his molding? Do I stand in fear of what his hands can do to my life, my self, and at the same time can I rest in the comfort of his loving palm?

Rainy days and rich coffee make my heart sing

I realized something while watching people in the mall today. Everybody is a freak. Some of us try to fit in while others don’t. Makes me feel better about myself.

I sat writing and drinking glorious coffee at Bay City Coffee and Tea for hours. Then I went to Sweet Boutique.

Here is my evaluation of the House Blend at Sweet Boutique in Bay City. It has a light texture, with a sharp, lively acidity. The bouquet is reminiscent of turpentine—a definite chemical taste, not the interesting and exciting chemical taste of a 9-volt battery, but the sickening something-is-wrong chemical taste of turpentine. Over all a good cup of Joe.

I adore my wife. She is the heart of my heart. I long for her, I strain to show her my love and feel hers returned to me in our embrace. Too often my love for her is so great she thinks I hug her too tight.

I can imagine loosing her to another man. I would be devastated. My life would feel over, betrayed and taken from me. Perhaps it is insecurity that makes me even able to imagine that tragedy.

It is easy to see why I grow uncomfortable watching plots unfold on the silver screen in which the heroes are caught up in extramarital affairs. Often that feeling is so intense that I am agitated, tense and furious. Previews for the show “Desperate Housewives” have that effect on me. I can’t believe real women are like that.

Yet that is how Israel acted toward God. What did he do to drive them away? He lavished love on them in miraculous, powerful way – a super tight embrace. I am amazed at God’s desire for intimacy. His desire for relationship pervades his judgments.

Is the honeymoon over?

After three years of marriage there is no question that the honeymoon is over. Our honeymoon was a week of adventure and leisure. Now it is only a pleasant memory. We are left to fend with life, a life of frustrating repetition, lack of adventure and sometimes the odd indication of lack of meaning. Still we have each other and love each other desperately every chance we remember it.

I fear from time to time that my honeymoon with my congregation may be over. I am nearing my first anniversary in my first pastorate. After our first vacation, I am sure that honeymoon isn't the right term for our relationship. I sense that my posture has shifted to defense and I need to learn how to adapt. There is life after the honeymoon, but it is fraught with danger.

Israel didn't make right choices after it's honeymoon with Yahweh. Their honeymoon was marked with a wilderness misadventure and the death of a generation, but still those were the good times. God was doing amazing things in their midst. He showed his power to them daily, there was no mistaking he is God. Yet they were quick to abandon him, and by the time of Jeremiah, they weren't just unfaithful, they became prostitutes and forgot their husband at home.

"They didn't ask, 'Where is the Lord.'" They didn't even look for him. They stopped recounting the stories from the honeymoon and replaced their Glory with worthlessness, a phantom, a vapor.

Honeymoon or no, I love you my Dear One. Remind me of your presence, I forget reality sometimes. Remind me, remind me.

Past haunting

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in 1943 after 40 days in prison, wrote,

I am now trying my hand at a little study on "The Feeling of Time," and experience that is presumably quite familiar to anyone undergoing pre-trial custody. One of my predecessors in the cell scribbled over the door, "In a hundred years it will all be over." That was his attempt to cope with this experience of empty time. I don't think I could fully agree, but there's a lot one could say on that subject....

As he continued to think on the mater, he wondered why say 'in a hundred years it would be all over' instead of 'until recently everything was great.'

There is, in the immutability of the past, something that offers little hope. I feel it some nights as I try to sleep. All the stupidities of yesterday, embarrassments long gone, flood back on the pallet of my dreams. Even past success is mute in those times. The past has nothing to offer.

Lord, I thank you for your hand that shaped me with those stupid, embarrassing times. I thank you that you have made me free from them. I thank you for the great times in the past as well, but they are not now. Now I look to your continued help, your love to comfort me, your stars and galaxies to enthrall me.

Jeremiah

The love of God's broken heart in this book overwhelms me. I find I cannot read it through in one sitting, I fall into tears. I turned to listening to it at chapter 11, but Alexander Scourby takes it more forcefully and wrathfully than I. At any rate it is easy to be overwhelmed by KJV English.

Consuming Fire

Our God is a consuming fire. Fire is beautiful and intriguing. I love to sit in front of a campfire and watch it flicker and lick as it simultaneously creates and destroys. Even candles steal away my attention as they turn wax into liquid and gas.

Flames can be experienced as both good and bad at the same time. I would venture that we always experience flame as good and bad. To be Christian is to live aflame.

Jesus said, "I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!"

The flame burns in our hearts. It is the Holy Spirit blazing in our eyes and giving unction to our spirits. The flame is God himself consuming us, destroying our sinful selves and creating our righteous perfected souls.

The flame is also around us burning with wrath. We experience it in division and difficulty caused by the clash of our old life, passing away, turning to ash, with the life burning with passion and Presence. It is the flame of persecution experienced by 53 million martyrs. It is the flame of division driving families apart.

It is the flame of life burning on for all eternity in the heart of man. The flame of family inaugurated in the lives of those with like precious faith, Savior and Father.

Burn on!

The Undying Fire

Have Mercy on Me!

Jesus often was met with cries of "Son of David Have mercy on me!"

Do I realize how incredible it is that it is the very divinity in Christ, which makes him transcendent and worthy of awe, worship and retreating reverence, that also includes the insatiable drive for mercy?

Jesus had compassion on the leper. He could have just spoken and dismissed the leper as healed, but this time he had compassion. Pity overflowed from his bowls. And he touched the mess of a man.

Oh, Lord, have mercy on me! Thank you for your divine nature of mercy. That you want to be tender, have compassion, love and have a relationship with -- even me.

Never let me take your mercy for granted, but let me always see it through the eyes of your transcendence.

The mystery inside every man

There is within us a great mystery. A mystery so vast as to rival the universe. What is inside of us, what is this stuff we call soul, being, person, will? We can indeed rule it ourselves, with hold it from God's governance, though not his glory. We can exercize our will against his Will and do so all the time.
This kingdom that we control, when apart from him is insignificant. Atomic compared with his infinitude. Yet that will contains and controls a desire in us so great that the universe itself could fit within it--our desire to know God. In our miniscule atomic being, there is a vacuum only the Infinite God himself can fill.
Imagine our atomic selves being home to the infinite. He dwells in us, makes his home in us. His fullness inside us. How can our inner mystery contain, grapple or appreciate the Infinate and Trancendant?!

There is something manic in making people laugh

Tonight was our first performance of "The Good Doctor." Nervous as I was, I was caught up in an ecstasy when the lights came down and my character Kistunov finally goes mad, the audience continued laughing and cheering as I walked off stage. The feeling wasn't because I had done a great job, or that "they like me, they really like me," but simply that we had connected the audience and I. I was able to tickle them, coaxing joy from the inmost places. It is an intimate thing, and a great drug to me.

Lord, there is in this desire to laugh at ourselves a glue that binds us on an intimate level. I thank you for building that into us.

I want to live in rapture with you. Come laugh over me. Love me and tickle me. I need your joy as well as your depths.

Still thinking about that stewardship stuff:

Where your treasure is there your heart will be also...

Is my heart in heaven? My treasures aren't always, what about that swanky 40's smoking jacket on ebay, or that new PDA I want? How much do I long for heaven to come to earth?

"Even so come quickly Lord Jesus."

Stewardship includes our response to natural as well as personal resources.

Stewardship and the End?

I can't get my head around Luke 12.32-48. Luke places this discussion of freedom from material attachment right before Jesus' saying "(40)You also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him."

What should our response to money and possessions be in light of his immanent return? Jesus tells us to free ourselves from worry, to sell our possessions giving to the poor.

Eschatology can do funny things to our stewardship. A healthy expectation for the return of Christ can inspire us to give it all away and join a commune, or ignore our stewardship of the earth, piling up a mountain of Styrofoam or going into extreme debt with no intention to pay it off. Christ will be back before it means anything.

Is there more to this juxtaposition of stewardship and expectation than not being attached to our possessions? How important is our detachment? What does this say about our practical giving within the community of faith?

These questions all strain for the light of day as I try to find the truth in this passage. Though this truth is as plain as I can see: I worry.

My own struggle to make ends meet, to provide for my precious wife and daughter and face the prospect of a baby son, often knocks me to worry--worry to the point of depression.

Lord, I know you are coming back soon, I trust you and you have always... always shown yourself faithful to me. Thank you for your tender desire to give me your kingdom! I truly feel like a helpless lamb in your flock. I cannot be the provider, I can only trust the good shepherd to feed me and mine. Thank you precious Father.