Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ category
September 7, 2013
WORDS FROM W.W September 7, 2013
Most who are reading this know that my mom passed away on September 3. Her funeral was yesterday. After the service at Hall’s Funeral Home in Proctorville, Ohio, the family traveled about an hour and a half to Highland Memorial Gardens outside of Staffordsville, Kentucky for her graveside. I was asked to conduct the graveside service. Now, understand that I’ve conducted a lot of graveside services over the years, but this was different. This was for Mom, the one who changed my diapers and kept me in line. One doesn’t just read a scripture, recite a poem, and close in prayer at his mother’s cemetery plot. The following are my last words to Mom before her casket was lowered into the ground just to the foot of her parents’ graves, and also in the company of her sister Irene, and husband Milliard Vance, her brother Dewey Junior Helton (who I always thought was actually named Junior…Uncle Junior!), and his wife Grethel, and Mom’s brother-in-law, Bernie Whitt. Her sister, Cynthia Whitt, age 91, is the last of the six children still living.
“Family plot” is an appropriate term for that section of the cemetery! And those of us who are still walking upright were gathered there with them.
Dear Mom,
I know that you are in heaven now. As I thought about who you are- your personality, likes and dislikes- and who you have been, and I thought about where you are now, I started pondering what it is about heaven that impresses you…not that there is anything in heaven that is unimpressive!
I know that you will be taken back by how immaculate everything is in Glory. Everything is perfectly placed. There is no hint of chaos. There isn’t a place in the whole expanse that “looks like a tornado hit it” (Your term used often to describe my bedroom!).
Everything is clean! Cleanliness is next to godliness…and now you know that it also describes the area next to God! The order of heaven has brought a smile to your face. If heaven has magazines they are neatly arranged. Good Housekeeping would figure prominently in the tidy mix.
I know you will also be thrilled to discover that there is no death, mourning, crying, or pain there. The last few years have had their share of those things…from the passing of siblings and friends…to the pain of your illnesses. Dad and Rena often found that there was nothing they could do to comfort you, to make things so you would not hurt. They did not want you to be in pain, but there was a pained helplessness within them as they waited by your bedside. Heaven, as you have discovered, does not have a hospital ward…or doctor’s waiting rooms…or pills to take and health insurance forms to submit.
In heaven I’m sure you are rejoicing with those who have gone before you. I know you’re experiencing a reunion of the saints. There’s been a separation that has now come back together.
Can you hear Aunt Rene’s laughter?
Do people still have Kentucky accents there, which, I know, Kentuckians have thought are pretty heavenly on this earth?
Is the aforementioned Uncle Junior still allowed to pinch the legs of unsuspecting little boys…like he would do to me while sitting in the swing together at Mamaw and Papaw Helton’s house?
Have you seen Papaw yet, and does he drink buttermilk in heaven? I always thought that buttermilk was disgusting, so I’m assuming he is having to go “buttermilk cold turkey” for the rest of eternity.
And, Mom, you’re seeing the Lamb of God, Jesus, with the multitudes encircling him in praise and adoration of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. Since I know you were always impressed with Easter Choir Cantatas, you must be standing there with your mouth wide open in awe of what you are now hearing and seeing.
We grieve your death, but we rejoice in your life, and now…new life. As the scripture says “…we live by faith, not by sight.”
Because of our shared faith we know that someday we will be reunited with you, and for that we are thankful!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Death, Faith, Grace, Humor, Jesus, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: cemetery, comfort, Dad, death, family, funerals, graves, Graveside, grieving, heaven, last words, losing someone, loss, Mom, Saints, saying goodbye
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September 5, 2013
WORDS FROM W.W. September 5, 2013
It is hard to change from what has always been!
For all my life my mom has always been. Today is day three of this new place, this new part of the journey, that has never been a part of me before.
This is stranger than all the other changes in my life. It isn’t like switching from cassette tapes to CD’s, or even moving from Michigan to Colorado. Losing a parent is like losing part of your identity. You go back and look at old family pictures. Mom was there at my third birthday. When I think of birthdays I still think of two-layer coconut white cake. When I think of Christmas celebrations in our house on Lexington Road in Winchester, Kentucky, Mom was there…a little drowsy, but she was there. I didn’t understand at that point that the night had been short for her. I thought she had gone to sleep right after the kids did, so that she wouldn’t be in Santa’s way.
When Dad was having to travel for his position with the Social Security Administration Mom was there with us “three munchkins.” She rarely used the excuse of working all day and not having the energy to cook dinner…so let’s go out to eat! Skillet cornbread and a pot of home-grown green beans was often our meal. In fact, the first time I had yellow cornbread I felt someone had made a mistake, because it was way different than Mom’s. I had the same reaction to “ham salad”. I didn’t realize that REAL ham salad had ham in it. Ours was made out of baloney, and it was awesome! No one told me it was “poor man’s ham salad!”
In fact, food often defined Mom. We never had to go to Bob Evan’s Restaurant. We were better!
Oyster dressing at Thanksgiving! Fried chicken! Squash casserole! Christmas fruit cake! Sweet tea! Sunday night popcorn as we watched The Ed Sullivan Show. Soup beans and the same aforementioned skillet cornbread.
Mom and Dad teamed together before equality was a popular term. Dad always drove, but Mom always talked and prompted discussion. In an age before cell phones, conversations were always “in car.” No one else was there to interfere, unless it was Tennessee Ernie Ford singing “Sixteen Tons” on the staticy radio.
Mom was always shotgun. The three kids always sat in the back seat. On the long trips to Paintsville, Kentucky, we could be assured that Mom would drift off at some time. The idea for bobblehead dolls came from watching her head bobble back and forth in a few moments of quiet slumber. The snickers from the back seat would some how awake her and we would then receive “the look.”
She was a perfectionist. Quite often when we lived on Thomas Street in Ironton, Ohio, she would tell me to go clean my room because “…it looks like a tornado hit it!” I’d go into my bedroom and the “tornado” had resulted in a bed spread being uneven and a closet door being open. I had a distorted view of the damage that tornados can do as a result of that. Our house was clean. In fact, in recent years when Mom and Dad were hiring someone to come in once a month to clean the lady would show Dad the cleaning cloth she used that had no visible remnants of dust or dirt on it. There was suspicion that Mom had cleaned before the lady had gotten there because she didn’t want the house to look like a tornado had hit it. That would be an embarassment!
College graduation photos…Mom was there. Seminary graduation photos…Mom was there! Wedding photos…Mom was there!
And so now I enter into a time that has never been. She is not there, and yet she is. The smells and scents as I entered my parents’ house on Tuesday were connections to Mom. Opening the refrigerator and seeing pimento cheese reminded me of Mom.
I can hear her voice in the silence. Even though I am in a time that has never been before the whispers of the past cling to the present.
Thank you, Mom! Who I am can not be separated from who you were.
Categories: children, Christmas, Community, Faith, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: death, losing a parent, losing parents, memories, Mom, Mothers, remembering, skillet cornbread
Comments: 2 Comments
August 27, 2013
WORDS FROM W.W. August 27, 2013
I’ve been preaching through Leviticus the past three years…I mean, three months. Three more weeks and I’ll be transitioning to Jesus. That is, I’ll be focusing on themes that come out of the gospels.
Leviticus has been a challenge, and yet, it has been rewarding to see the threads connecting the Old Covenant with the New Covenant.
Preaching is a privilege, and yet it is also a challenge. To be able to speak the truth in an age when truth is defined by a multitude of sources in a multitude of ways is a privilege…and a challenge.
Knowing that some of the listeners want it said in the shortest amount of time possible, while others want a whole loaf of spiritual bread to fill their souls for the week…is a challenge!
A greater question…that I wrestle with is… what does my life preach when no one is looking, and no one is listening? What echoes from my heart to God?
A couple of weeks ago I was attending the Global Leadership Summit local simulcast of the event that was happening at Willow Creek Church in South Barrington, Illinois. After one of the breaks the next session started with a man playing an incredible instrument called an “earth harp.” The strings of the harp connected from the standing bridge on the stage to the balcony about 250 feet away. You could see the strings around the stage area because of the lighting, but then they just sort of disappeared into the air.
What song does my life preach when I have an audience of One, when the music of my soul rises up to the Unseen?
It is far easier to preach from a text than to live the text. Preachers can fool congregations. It happens every week.
But only the foolhardy think they can preach to the Lord in ways that are put-on and pontificating fluff.
It’s why I’ve always been impressed with the Book of Psalms. David was totally authentic in his writing and composing. His heart seeks revenge, justice, peace, comfort, cleansing, answers to torment. He shouts praises and thanksgiving. He cries out for rescue, deliverance, healing, restoration. David preached what he was living.
What does my life preach? My resume would have to include some things like bitterness, hate, envy, whining, apathy, and a few other of their close relatives. It also preaches joy, laughter, love, hope, and grace, but I wonder how much pepper mixes in with the salt?
Sometimes I’m afraid my life preaches nothing to the Magnificent One, and volumes to the congregation. My focus can easily drift to developing the written manuscript and bypass the Creator.
Perhaps this Sunday I’ll have my life preach volumes to, and focus on, the God of heavens and earth; and then on Sunday morning I’ll preach in silence to the congregation.
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Community, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Holy Spirit, Jesus, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: earth harp, music, Preaching, Psalms, sermon, Sunday message, Sunday sermon
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August 22, 2013
WORDS FROM W.W. August 22, 2013
“Taking Lunch To The Teachers”
For the past five years our congregation has taken lunch to the staff of Audubon School, the elementary school a half mile down the street from us, on the staff work day right before students return from summer vacation. We take lunch to them and we eat lunch with them.
We used to take lunch to a couple of other grade schools close by…but they closed. We trust it wasn’t because we brought them lunch! Actually, it was a sign of the changing population base in our community..more seniors, less kids.
The reasons we take lunch to the staff are multiple. We want them to know that they are appreciated. We’re entrusting our children to them. If there was a scale that measured parental gripes versus “thank you’s” it would probably be tilted. You can make the determination which way you think it would lean. Providing lunch is an easy way…so easy…to just say thank you.
We take lunch to them because we want them to know that we’re in a partnership with them…that it takes a community to raise a child. Churches are a part of that, and schools are a part of that. In fact, although there are other participants in the raising of a child- namely parents- the two major players outside the family are the church and the school. Our church has worked hard at being a support for the school. It has now come to the point where the school has asked how they can help us. Last December the school choir came one morning and sang for our seniors’ group, and then we all had a pizza and salad lunch together. (Not much salad was eaten!)
We also want them to know that we are praying for them. I tell the staff that each year at the luncheon. I told them that I am fully aware of the separation of church and state. If they want to share a prayer concern with us, no student names, we will pray for them. At the luncheon one of the staff people told me of a student with a serious health issue. We prayed for the student…once again, no names were shared…but there’s a good chance that God is familiar with the child!
We take lunch to them because we want to reinforce the commitment to be there for them. “The Lunchroom Ladies” are usually the first ones to notice a student in need. They know that they can have the school secretary call us and request a winter coat for a first grader, or a pair of jeans for a young girl, or a pair of shoes. When the school social worker has a family in need of food we stock them up.
It has taken a few years, but the school staff sees us as their allies, not a threat. The result is a better community, a community that knows that we will help.
Categories: children, Community, Faith, Freedom, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: appreciation, lunch, lunch room ladies, luncheon, Partnership, praying, school staff, schools, staff appreciation, students, teachers
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August 21, 2013
WORDS FROM W.W. August 21, 2013
I find it interesting that the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5 is preceded by the acts of the sinful nature. It’s not until Paul deals out words like jealousy, hatred, selfish ambition, and envy that he finally gets around to talking about the spiritual fruit of love, joy, peace, …patience! I realize that the Word of God is inspired, and so there must be a reason why God had him write it in that order.
Perhaps it’s to help us identify difficult people…and then tell us to lighten up. Put a smile on!
Last week I had a couple of items I needed to get at a local Christian bookstore.
Translation! “God had a couple of ways he wanted me to grow in the spiritual fruit of patience…so he made it imperative that I go to the Christian bookstore.”
As I avoided being trampled by a herd of smart-shopping women (Actually, just three!) because I mistakenly had entered into the aisle that was featuring half-price “get well soon” cards…that, unfortunately, were on the other side of me and the women were heading in that direction, I prayed for the protection of the Lord. His protection came in the form of a rack of Jesus t-shirts that I squeezed under until the feminine trio passed me by.
After the rumble had subsided I made my escape to go look for one of items that necessitated my journey to the store in the first place- communion cups! It was then that I realized how behind the times I am. At first glance I thought I was standing in front of a Christian coffee displays on K-cups for my Keurig. Then I realized it was the new “C-cups!” A taste of grape juice in the little plastic cup with a chewy tasteless wafer on top. It was the Christian fellowship version to popping the top on a can of Pepsi! Convenient, quick…probably cuts out a needless five minutes of wasted worship service time waiting for the bread and the cup to be passed out. Think of how much shorter Jesus’ last supper could have taken. In the midst of all the C-cup boxes…crammed into the back of the rack like an uninvited guest, I found a box of communion cups…the old kind, no bread attached.
I grabbed the box and started heading towards the front. I had forgotten what the other item I was suppose to get even was. On my way to the front a mom and her daughter were arguing about which cross necklace to purchase.
As often happens in stores, there was only one cashier at the check-out registers. Another employee was putting a name in gold letters on the front of a new Bible. Being fifth in line was my plight. I stood there trying to think of the Biblical significance of the number five…came up with nothing! By that time I was fourth.
Five minutes later I had moved up to second in the rankings with five trailing me. it was at that point that it occurred to the young guy with five facial hairs (There was the number five!) to call for another check-out person. It seemed as if a woman ascended from the ceiling to the next register over. The last two women in line sprinted to the front as if they were running the race to win the prize.
Patience, my son! Patience! Smile!
The woman in front of me had about fifty trinkets that had to be scanned individually. Numbers three through five gradually disappeared from my line like the morning mist. If the rapture is determined by whose last in line I’m toast!
The young cashier had no clue of my exercise in patience. He asked me the question, “How are you today?”
Smile!!!! “Fine!”
“Did you find everything you needed?”
“And some things I didn’t need!”
He looked at me confused…but he got over it!
“Do you still carry the Left Behind series?”
“Yes, we do! Would you like to look for them?”
“No…no…no, I wouldn’t want to lose my place in line.”
Further confusion in my wake as I exited the store with a smile on my face.
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Community, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Holy Spirit, Humor, Jesus, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Christian bookstore, communion, disposable cups, Left Behind, patience, smile
Comments: 2 Comments
August 19, 2013
WORDS FROM W.W. August 19, 2013
My son! I hope you don’t mind that I call you that, even though we aren’t blood relatives. But I feel, in many ways, you are my son. Lord knows I’m old enough to be your dad!
I thank God for your obedience to the call. It hasn’t been smooth sailing for you. I can remember there were a number of times in the past three years where you were discouraged, tired, ready to lay things aside for a while. Going to seminary full-time, being a father and a husband, being involved in various ministry initiatives at church…your plate runneth over!
And now your name is preceded with the title “Reverend.”
I know it doesn’t change who you are. Humbleness is a part of your DNA. If someone refers to you as “Reverend” you will probably look behind you to see who they are talking to. The titled doesn’t change you. You are who God has transformed you into. That happened a long time before you got an official title.
See the title as simply a confirmation of those who have journeyed alongside you these past years that you are called…you have a special calling that has been placed upon your life.
Sometimes the calling will weigh heavily upon you. As you stand at a pulpit you will see the faces of people who need a word of hope for their lives, a word of encouragement. And yet, there will be other times when you stand at a pulpit there needs to be a “hard word” said. You must always seek to led by the Spirit of God. the temptation to throttle a congregation will be strong some weeks, as well as the tempting to be soft. Seek to lead the people of God closer to a holy fellowship with God. Don’t get carried away by personal agenda and political referendums. Stay Word-focused!
My son, as you enter a hospital room, or meet with someone who is about to enter into surgery, or gather with a family of a deceased loved one, understand that you are a representative of Christ. In fact, you are more than that. To those who are grieving you are the presence of Jesus. Without making you think that you are a Savior, you are in those moments Jesus to them. They are looking to you for a “word from the Lord”, a prayer for healing, comfort in the most trying times.
I know in your eyes you are “small” (Your word!), but to the family of a person who is about to have open-heart surgery you are a rock. Rocks are seen as being planted, strong…something that can have tough things, like the hard questions of life, brought to and there on’t be a shying away.
Be steady! People are sometimes fickle. They get attracted to the latest and greatest, but when the road gets rough, when the weariness of life leaves them gasping, they look for that pastor who is steady and a servant. Seek to move the people of God ahead. The faster you expect them to move the gentler you must be.
People will follow the leader, even with some grumbling, if they are sure that the leader loves them and desires the best for them.
My son, always be teachable, no matter your age! Seek wise mentors who are not only close at hand, but also far away. And, hear this…seek mentors who are teachable. If you accept the guidance from someone who no longer seeks the wisdom of others, two people are about to take a plunge.
Finally, your family comes before the people of God. There have been many great pastors who have lost their families. That, my friend, is not God’s design for this whole calling of being a pastor. You must be wise in your spirit. Sometimes the people of God can overwhelm you with demands and responsibilities at the expense of your role as a father and spouse. Keep a balance. Discern what is really crucial and what can wait. Your daughter’s school production is more important than a meeting of the Finance Committee. Protect your family time while letting the people of God know you care.
There are so many other things I could write to you, but some of them are best learned on your own. Always know that I’m praying for you, and will be there for you no matter if you’re on a peak or trudging through a valley.
You are called! Fight the good fight!
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Community, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Holy Spirit, Jesus, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: calling, Christ-like, church, congregation, Jesus, ministry, Ordained, ordination, pastor, reflection, Rev, Reverend, Savior, shepherd, title
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August 13, 2013
WORDS FROM W.W. August 13, 2013
Today is the 65th wedding anniversary of my mom and dad. Not many people can say they’ve been married to the same person for 65 years. It’s one of those things that people respond to with wide-open eyes of unbelief and ask “How long did you say???”
My mom and dad “lasted” this long because…because…here it comes…they loved each other and love each other deeply.
The problem is that few people today know what ingredients go into a recipe for love. It’s not always the warm fuzzies that people think it tastes like.
Let me tell you what I believe has gone into my parents’ marriage.
The Salt of Shared Pain- I remember hearing conversations of loss. When words left their sting on my mom, my dad would be the listening ear, the agent of comfort. As they went through the difficulties of losing parents and siblings to death they cried on one another’s shoulders. Pain can often be lonely business. It can cause us to retreat into a place of isolation, but Mom and Dad walked through it together.
The Cinnamon of Intimacy- My parents did not shy away from embracing or kissing one another in front of their three kids. One of the things I remember my mom saying to my dad quite often was “Kiss me, Slobber Lips! I can swim!” I crack up when I think about that still. They conveyed through their hugs and words that they loved pne another. It seems that this usually happened right after dinner, which takes in the next ingredient.
The Sauce of Servanthood- I don’t remember that dinner was the responsibility of just one of them. Although my mom did most of the cooking, Dad would be involved in setting the table, or washing the dishes (unless it fell to one of the kids). When we had mashed potatoes he always got the assignment. Whenever we had liver and onions, not one of our favorites, he was tasked with the cooking. If it was fried chicken or cooking a pot of garden fresh green beans, it was Mom’s turn to shine. The smooch after dinner was almost like a kiss of appreciation and partnership. They had finished the day of work and home duties together.
The Cream of Commitment- Like cream in a soup that filters through the whole batch, my parents committed to one another…for better or for worse…for richer, or, for most of the time…poorer…in sickness and in health (That is the everyday journey right now!). I had never heard of the word divorce until my Uncle George got married. And then when he got remarried to someone else I didn’t understand it, because Mom and Dad were always together. It didn’t matter when the income was barely able, if possible, to meet the bills. It just meant a couple of more meals of beans. I can’t even picture one of my parents not being there, because they have been…for sixty-five years!
The Vanilla of Spirituality- Some people see the word vanilla and they think it indicates blandness, dullness, but the ingredient of vanilla is precious. In lay terms it’s expensive! My parents marriage has been a dance with God. I’ve never known a time in my life when I didn’t go to church…except for about a year in college when Bedside Baptist gained a new member, and I was enjoying the Sunday morning messages delivered by Reverend Sheets. I was raised in church, but my parents modeled Christ-like behavior and lives. My dad’s meal-time grace was heart-felt. Mom’s involvement in choir and a women’s missionary circle were exercised expressions of her Christian walk. They sat in worship together Sunday morning and Sunday evening. I wanted to be a Methodist growing up because I knew their children were home watching Walt Disney while I was sitting in a church pew. Mom and Dad always sat together in church, side-by-side, unless they had a kid between them that needed to be “secured!”
The Sugar of Simplicity- Mom and Dad were not defined by their possessions, their home, the cars they drove. They seemed to like American-built cars back in the day, but that didn’t matter that much. Whatever they had they took extremely good care of it. Vacations were spent back on my grandparents’ farm in Oil Springs, Kentucky, and that usually meant helping Mamaw and Papaw Helton with some of the farm chores. Relaxing was sitting in one of the front porch swings watching the occasional cars drive past. That simplicity, however, was special. Watching The Ed Sullivan Show on Sunday night after getting home from church (still a little disgruntled about the Disney thing!), while eating popcorn…that was a picture of our family. That was special and meaningful.
The recipe has several other ingredients that have been put into he soup, but, I guess what I’m saying is that my parents’ 65 year marriage shouldn’t be the oddity. Is it wrong to think that it should be the norm?
Would the world be a little less chaotic and topsy-turvy if my mom and dad weren’t see as being unusual?
Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Jesus, love, marriage, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: anniversary, commitment, divorce, family, husband, marriage, sixty-five years, wife
Comments: 2 Comments
July 31, 2013
WORDS FROM W.W. July 31, 2013
Carol and I don’t often get away…at least far enough away. Not that I don’t enjoy being a pastor, or enjoy the people of my congregation. It’s really not their problem.
It’s me!
I am not good at unplugging. I find it very difficult to turn off the knob (old technology term) that is labeled “Thinking About What Needs To Be Done.”
It’s like the word association game. Hear a word and say the first word that comes to your mind. For me, however, it’s seeing an object and thinking about a meeting coming up, or a message to be preached. I smell popcorn and think about movies, which makes me think about the video series our small group will be using in the next month, which makes me think about the study guide questions I still need to repair.
Fruit reminds me of communion. Dinner rolls at a restaurant remind me of…communion. I drive along a river and it reminds me of the water restrictions we’re under back home, and whether the sprinklers are properly turned off. I pass a school and I think of the staff appreciation luncheon we do each year at Audubon School down the street from us on the teacher work day they have before the students come back.
See! I’m plugged! It is one thing that Carol is concerned about whenever I retire. Can I really unplug?
In our culture where we are almost always connected by technology (Except on Union Boulevard around Lexington about two miles from our house. Why is it I can get phone reception in Antarctica, but not right here in the midst of civilized technology?), everything seems either urgent or known. If it is known that means it is expected to be put on the fast track to solved. If it is urgent it needs to be accomplished…now!
I get into that mindset of accomplishing tasks, doing the weekly jobs again, and then when a day off comes I’m still checking emails and thinking about the week ahead.
Why is it that we find it hard to vacate? Okay, I’ll use that other word…”rest!” It may say something about our reluctance to slow down and listen. We’re not a very good listening culture. We listen to music…as we’re working. We listen to the radio…as we’re driving. We listen to our kids…as we’re working on our laptop. We listen to the problems of others…as we’re texting someone else about our own problems.
Listening is an undervalued asset. Slowing down is seen as not getting us anyplace.
Perhaps I will try to “vacate” each day this coming month…not for the day, but for a few moments, an evening walk, or just in a quiet place by myself.
It won’t be early in the morning. With a day of tasks ahead it would be a recipe for defeat. Early evening works best for who I am.
I’ll let you know how it goes. For today Carol and I are going to vacate to about five different places that we need to get to.
Uh-oh, that didn’t sound restful, did it?
Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Freedom, marriage, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: plugged, rest, Sabbath rest, slowing down, technology, unplugged, vacating, vacation, Work
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June 30, 2013
WORDS FROM W.W. June 30, 2013
“The Last Sprint”
Back in high school and college I was a distance runner…one mile, two mile, and the hardest race of all the half-mile. As a miler I had a very good kick at the end of the face. If I could be close to the other runner, or even ahead, with 300 yards to go I knew I had a good chance to win. The last sprint had the finish line in sight and I was usually able to put it in a different gear.
This last month I’ve written a “Words From W.W.” each day. June 1 started with the challenge, filled with anticipation, but also a little anxiety…kind of like the beginning of the mile run. It proceeded through the first week. I established a kind of “expected pace.” If I needed to write a post in the evening the TV was off and the headphones on. There were a few days where the energy level was low…and as a result, probably the quality of the writing.
But I stayed with it. Some of you gave me ideas for blog postings. Some had questions that they wanted some words of wisdom about, or at least, words from WW.
The last week of the month was spent in the Dominican Republic as part of a mission team. Usually the biggest hurdle in terms of that was to try to take one happening from the day and write about it. I could write a book about the experience…literally!
And now today is Day 30 of 30, the final sprint.
Some people ask me why I do it, why I write? After all, people are more visual now. Newsweek bit the dust in terms of hard copy. The Gazette newspaper is almost small enough to be a newsletter now. So, why write?
It’s a hard question for me to answer. I think I write because it makes me think and ponder. In terms of my spiritual journey, without sounding arrogant, I grow the most as I write. My blog might be my version of journaling, although I never really liked doing that in the usual way people think of. As I write I slow down to meet God. I hope…I pray…that his hand is guiding my fingers over the keys of my laptop, that when I’m struggling for a word he draws it out of me. That when something doesn’t feel right he takes me to the delete key and begins me again.
So now I come to the end of a month. Perhaps someone has heard some words in a way that has made them think, or laugh, or even cry. I think of the Apostle Paul as he was closing his second letter to his young charge Timothy. He wrote, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” (2 Timothy 4:7)
The last sprint.
I’m not seeing this as a final post, but it is the final stretching for the finish of this race. As July enters I’ll look to write more, perhaps more than one day in a row, but I’ll also give the reading eyes of those who have taken the time to ponder brief breaks from the “Words.”
Thanks to all who have encouraged and told me to keep pressing on. Time to cross the line and take a warm-down lap.
Categories: Christianity, Faith, Jesus, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: blog, blog post, Challenge, discipline, journaling, long distance, mile run, sprint, thirty days, writing
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June 29, 2013
WORDS FROM W.W June 28, 2013
In Santo Domingo today we visited the oldest church in the Americas, the Cathedral of Santa Maria la Menor. It was built between 1512 and 1540 under the leadership of Bishop Fray Padilla. Being in a five hundred year old church is quite an experience, especially considering the age of church in our own country.
But Cathedral of Santa Maria la Menor is now more like a museum than a church. Tour groups come in, pay their admission fee, and then receive headphones and a transistor player that guides each of the group members through the church. There are a number of small side chapels, most of which are closed off to keep the tourists at a distance. The church is ornate and massive. Groups are told to be quiet because there may be people there who are trying to pray.
Bottom line, however, the church is now a tourist destination because it’s old!
It hit me that centuries ago people wouldn’t have thought about taking a tour of it. They would have gone there to worship, to pray, to be a part of a spiritual community, to receive words of hope and instruction, and partake of the Eucharist.
My fear is that the church today will be a museum years from now. That we will slowly be transformed into a destination for people who are looking for a aide trip instead of people looking to be close to God.
It is a turning point time for the church. And what has hit me this week is that people are looking at a church to see which it is and will be. In working with children here in Santo Domingo we know that they are looking to the people of God for a hand up; that is, to help them reach up to a life that doesn’t just talk about hope, but becomes “realized hope.” They are looking to the people of God not just to say the words, but to live the words.
When words are lived churches continue to be beacons of light and people of mission. Tour groups don’t visit to take pictures of dead saints; people visit to see the living saints.
This week a few of our mission team became first-time sponsors of some of the children of Herrera. The children will see in the coming year that the church is active and loving. Why else would someone from Colorado want to see a little boy from Santo Domingo live a full, healthy, and purpose-filled life?
Museums don’t care about the visitors; they just take care of the exhibits.
The people of God care for the visitors and those who even live far-away, as they exhibit the grace of God, and the hope of life lived for the Lord.
Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Faith, Grace, Jesus, love, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Cathedral of Santa Maria la Menor, Dominican Republic, Santo Domingo
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