Archive for September 2026

Getting Fingerprinted

September 20, 2026

Investigate my life, O God,
find out everything about me;
Cross-examine and test me,
get a clear picture of what I’m about;
See for yourself whether I’ve done anything wrong—
then guide me on the road to eternal life.
(Psalm 139:23-24)

I got fingerprinted a couple of weeks ago…by a machine…with an invisible person. I could have driven the length of Kansas in the time it took. Okay, that was an exaggeration…but barely!

Although the fingerprinting wasn’t for a crime I had committed, it felt like I was being punished in a futuristic, AI-driven George Orwell 1984 sequel. The other victims were getting lined up behind me as I was told to go to “The Machine.” The Machine resembles an arcade Pac-Man game: you stand in front of it, like you’re facing an Army Drill Sergeant after morning reveille. The inspection begins immediately: Is this my Face? What’s my address? Phone? Birthdate? Social Security Number? Name of my 3rd-grade teacher? Do I drive a foreign car? Have I ever been convicted of a crime? Do I eat white bread or sourdough? When was my last colonoscopy? Is my hair its natural color? Who did I vote for in the 2008 Presidential Election?

I shifted my position once and caused The Machine to give me a warning. Disciplinary action was possible. The Machine Screen told me to place my right hand on a pad that looked suspicious, as if its purpose was to determine if you were telling the truth or not, and was ready to give you an electric shock to straighten up your ways. Like a sheep being led to slaughter, I placed my hand on the pad of repentance.

“Do not move your hand!” The Machine non-verbally instructed me. “Make sure none of your fingers are touching the metal frame around the pad.” I eased them into position. “Keep them in place until you are instructed to move them.”

I waited…and waited. Finally: “Incomplete. Place your right fingers on the pad.” I carefully placed my digits as instructed, with the ludicrous idea that if I was more careful it would make the difference.

Success…in a way. “Wait for your proctor to approve your fingerprints. Do not touch the keyboard.”

I stepped back, wondering if this machine had been invented by the TSA as a test project. Maybe sometime soon there won’t be real people doing the security at the airport check-in either. I stared at the wording on the screen. Was my invisible proctor on a coffee break? It was getting close to five o’clock. The thought occurred to me, “What happens if it hits 5:00 and I’m only right fingerprinted? Will I have to start over again. What if my proctor is a smoker and decides he’s done for the day? Will I have to stand here until Monday morning?”

Finally, the screen changes and instructs me to place my left-hand fingers on the pad. I repeat the process, holding my breath as an image of my fingerprints comes on the screen. I took that as a good sign.

It wasn’t. The “Incomplete” wording appears again, with even more stern warnings about “Doing It Correctly!” Repeat the waiting. Repeat the “Wait for your half-interested proctor to inflict more frustration on your Friday late afternoon!”

I was fearfully and wonderfully made, but not so much for The Machine. I was just another incomplete, uninteresting, yawn-producing set of ten fingers to this Robo Cop.

And for that hemorrhoid-producing experience, I got to use my credit card and be charged $57.50. The Machine made me wait for the proctor’s approval for that, too. I wanted to complain, but who would have listened?

Liked and Like-Minded

September 17, 2026

 “Therefore, if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion,  then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind.” (Philippians 2:1-2)

I like to be liked. There’s nothing wrong with that; sometimes my need to be liked outweighs my need to be firm and consistent in my faith walk. That’s a hard confession to lay right out there in print (The first three sentences, to be exact!), but it’s true. There’s a “Peter-side” to me that is standing by the fire, warming my hands, as the name of Jesus is being abused or, more commonly in church, misused.

In like manner, sometimes the pull in church to be liked dominates the struggle between itself and being like-minded. Like-mindedness is an earnest desire to find the mind of Christ: a thinking, acting, and loving point of view that guides the Body of Christ along a path that brings joy to the heart of God.

When Paul wrote to the Philippian church about being like-minded, it was a church, by the way, known for its positivity. I mean, if you want good vibes, read Paul’s letter to the Philippians. It is the other side of the spectrum from his first letter to the Corinthians. First Corinthians is full of examples of people “liking it” their way. The Philippians, on the other hand, had”symmetry.” Their symmetry wasn’t based on how many times they attended church each week, following the congregation’s unwritten dress code, or the orderliness of the worship gathering. From Paul’s words, the Philippians seemed to share a spirit of compassion and tenderness, encouraging one another.

Perhaps the Christian faith was still so new that other issues hadn’t emerged yet, such as what songs to sing or where to place the pulpit. Maybe the gospel was so new, but also so freeing, that it was able to be the central reason for their existence. Other issues hadn’t shown up yet in their fellowship. In a way, simplicity was the fertilizer that grew their like-mindedness.

Like-mindedness is a tricky objective in today’s church culture. There is a taffy-pull that happens more often than not between different factions. Pet projects become objects of worship. In connection to that, the need to be liked causes some to attach to an emphasis not out of commitment, but rather because of who is leading the charge. I recognize there is also the danger of being like-minded, but that like-mindedness having an absence of purpose. In other words, like-mindedness of nothing, like a bunch of folk all scrolling on their phones in a restaurant instead of talking about life as a community of faith.

A couple of years ago, I led a youth retreat where the group talked about what they are committed to as a group. We wrote down a list of seven essentials that would help the group become more like-minded. The students felt like they had accomplished something. They were energized. And then life happened, and what they had committed to got pushed to the side by the need to be liked. I don’t disparage them. Adults do it so much it’s “like” a routine. It is far easier to lose a like-mindedness that has depth and meaning than it is to embrace it.

Paul was ecstatic about a community of embrace that was not afraid of walking with Jesus…together. It’s more than the use of our advertising symbols…bumper stickers, T-shirts, and evangelistic meetings disguised as free concerts. Paul shook with emotion when he encountered a faith community seeking the mind of Christ, being patient in finding it, and then being guided by the Spirit to live it out.

I realize that sounds a bit cynical and pessimistic. I apologize for that, but as I said at the beginning, I’m dealing with my need to be liked. Sometimes I even write things that cause me to ask “Whose mind is working here???”

Crashing Communion

September 7, 2026

“Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.”  Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” (John 13:8-9)

I’ve been privileged to serve communion for 47 years as a part of worship leadership, either in church, at church camp, or in retreat settings. If I kept a running total of how many communion trays I have passed and how many words of remembrance I have said, I’d guess I could round the figure up to a couple thousand.

So it was quite alarming this past Sunday when one of the bread trays was knocked off the communion table and clanged onto the carpet, spilling the remaining cardboard-like pieces of bread. If anyone in the sanctuary had been meditating (the Baptist term for “taking a snooze”), their time in intimate conversation with Jesus was abruptly halted. At least the mishap occurred after the bread trays were returned. A full tray might have catapulted one of the bread bullets into one of the eyes of the servers.

Sometimes our life is defined by errors, but rescued by grace. If a pastor can drop a communion tray during the quietest moment of worship and not run out of the room weeping, perhaps others can understand that those embarrassing moments of our lives are redeemable.

One of the servers whispered to me, as he knelt to help me pick up the spillage, “It’s okay. I remember my first time serving also.” We quietly chuckled together. After the service, another man came to me, a wide grin on his face, and said, “That brought back memories of when I was an altar boy. That was my worst fear, dropping something.” And then there was another saintly gentleman who told me when he dropped a full tray of communion cups on the front row of a visiting choir positioned in the choir loft.

It’s interesting that most of us can remember the flubs we’ve had through the years. During my last year of seminary, I was serving as Director of Youth at First Presbyterian Church in Arlington Heights, Illinois. One Sunday I was put in charge of the pastoral prayer time. As part of the duties, I was to announce any celebrations of newborns, as well as inform the congregation of the deaths of anyone. On one of those assigned Sundays I confused the two and said, “Congratulations to Ruth Smith on the death of her father.” Decades later, I can remember the stunned looks on the faces of the 500 people gathered in that sanctuary.

We all have those moments of temporary clumsiness and misspoken words that cause us to feel like one of The Three Stooges. The difference is whether someone can forgive himself and know that God is not so much concerned about the performance being perfect, as He does about the intent being right. Remembering Jesus’ last meal with His disciples as a part of our worship gathering is more important to our Creator than whether or not there was an absence of clanging metal trays or a residue of bread crumbs left behind.

As I securely held the communion cup in my hand after the bread-boggle, I told the congregation it was okay: “God still loves me!” The words were greeted with smiles. They had all been there in some way at some time.