Pastor’s Notes in the Key of D
Easter under Quarantine - April, 2020
I don’t know about you, but in recent days it has been hard to think about much other than things related to the coronavirus. And as we all scramble to restructure our lives, it seems as if everything else has been pushed aside. It only just hit me that Easter is in three weeks! The other day my boy came up to me and asked, “Dad, will Easter be cancelled this year?”
Before I answered him various thoughts rushed through my head. Things like, “If I was Jesus, maybe I’d think twice about it this year… probably safer to just stay inside that tomb and leave the heavy stone in place. Even though it would be cold and dark, at least the germs couldn’t get in.”
In times of fear it’s natural to have thoughts like that creep in, and be tempted to give in to inclinations to hide and stay safe. But here’s what is also true: it’s precisely in these times - when cold and darkness abounds, when our lives and our hopes are on lockdown, when it seems that the news is only bad and getting worse – it’s in moments like this that Easter happens. Maybe in the midst of this pandemic, perhaps even for the first time in our lives, we are primed to fully experience Easter, especially where we may feel unprepared or ill-equipped to do so.
After all, that has always been the nature of the story. God breaking in, life emerging, love bursting forth in places and ways we don’t, or can’t, anticipate. The disciples weren’t ready. Oh, they thought they were, but then when things got tough, they fell away. Hid. Betrayed. Denied. Even though they had been told six ways to Sunday, even though they had walked with Jesus and heard his teachings, they weren’t prepared for Easter to happen.
Pilate and the Roman authorities weren’t prepared either. Oh sure, they had their laws and enforcements. They thought they could dictate all the outcomes through brute force and dehumanizing violence on a cross. They thought the tombstone was immovable. They never saw Easter coming.
Even the women at the tomb didn’t see it. They arrived anticipating doing nothing more than anointing a corpse. They had no idea anything else was possible, overcome as they were by despair. They weren’t prepared to meet the risen Christ, the love that conquers all the places of death.
We don’t see Easter coming either. Like the disciples, we feel beaten down and lost. Like Pilate and the Romans, we act as if the forces of death in this world have the final say. Like the women at the tomb, we get consumed by grief and we live as if nothing ever changes. And that’s before Easter was under quarantine!
But the promise of Easter is that there is no tomb, no fear, no violence, no despair, no plague, no quarantine that can separate us from God’s unyielding love. Easter is a green blade that rises no matter what is used to bury or encase it. Resurrection takes the ugliest parts of our world and of us and transforms them into something new. It takes whatever is dead in us and brings it back to life, even when – especially when – we least expect it. And none of this is subject to change. It just is. It just happens. No matter what…
I snapped out of my reverie. My son stood before me, awaiting a response. “Dad, will Easter be cancelled this year?” I looked at him and said simply, “No way, buddy, because God loves us. And there’s nothing that can cancel that.”
In faith and love,
Dan
Out of the Boat - March, 2020
Last year my family was delayed flying home from a vacation in Southern Florida. There were tornadoes and sever weather incidents across the entire Southeast, and when we did manage to get out, we hit some severe turbulence over Arkansas. When a pilot abruptly says, “Flight attendants be seated,” it’s never a reassuring feeling. And as we hit the rough air, I remember trying to look calm as I read the same sentence five times in the travel magazine. Then I just put it down and closed my eyes, hoping to wait it out. My boys, of course, thought it was fun. All the jostling and dips were like a ride to them. I wish I could say the same. I may have looked calm on the outside, but inside I was a mess of fear and nervousness. In the end I just sat there and prayed, “God, keep us up, keep us up, keep us up.”
According to the great preacher John Ortberg, most of us live somewhere between fear and faith. Our lives and the decisions we make are often determined by one of those two factors.
Matthew’s gospel tells the story of the disciples in a boat on the Sea of Galilee when a storm arises suddenly. Alone and afraid, they wonder what will become of them. But then they see something coming toward them, and they are terrified. Peter first recognizes that it’s Jesus, and he calls out, “Command me to come to you!” When Jesus says, “Come,” it’s his way of asking, “Are you ready to go with me, even in the storm? Is your faith strong enough to get up and go with me?”
I love this story – but try not to get caught up in it literally. What Jesus is asking Peter and the disciples to do is the same thing he’s asking us to consider. “Are you stuck in your boat? Do you always look for the easy way out, the safe way, the ‘don’t make me get off the couch and do something with my life’ way?”
Nearly all of us have times when what we really need is to binge-watch a favorite television show all day and not get off the couch. I’ve done it – and I can’t wait for the next season of “Ozark” to start so I can lose myself in it.
But there is within the human soul a call to adventure, to do something with your life. Peter sees Jesus on the water and right then everything is clear. He knows he wants to follow. He understands that there is no storm too great. He’ll go wherever, do whatever it takes to walk with Jesus.
Then, as you remember, he starts to sink. I can imagine the other disciples thinking, “Well, what did you think would happen? It’s water. And it’s not frozen, so of course you’ll sink! You should have stayed in the boat with us.”
And all of that is true, but Peter can always say, “Yes it was crazy, but for a few steps I had it! I was walking on water!” They can criticize him all they want, but he will always have that. He took a chance. He stepped onto the court. He was inspired, even if for an instant, to trust in God.
Where in your life do you need courage right now? What do you need to do to get out of the boat and take those first tentative steps?
If you’d prefer your fear to go away before you face whatever it is out there, know this: that will never happen. If you’re doing anything that matters, fear will always be a part of it.
The fear involved with taking risks never quite goes away. Fear of failure is perhaps the greatest reason we don’t get out of our boats but as John Ortberg says, “It was Peter’s willingness to risk failure that helped him to grow.”
All of us live somewhere between fear and faith. Our fullest lives are found when we face the fear and step out in faith.
In faith and love,
Dan
Past In Our Eyes - February, 2020
In a beloved Peanuts comic strip, Lucy – Charlie Brown’s friend and, at times, adversary – is about to catch a fly ball that is hit toward her position in right field. The ball hits the center of her glove, but pops out and falls to the ground. Charlie Brown runs out and asks, “Lucy, what happened?”
“The past got in my eyes.” We smile because it’s funny but we also know that what Lucy is talking about isn’t just about her and her out fielding skills, it’s about us. The past has the power to blind us, freeze us, and leave us emotionally and spiritually crippled.
Many of us were raised to think that when we fail, fall short, or otherwise sin, God will be looking to punish us. But, in fact, the opposite is true. As one pastor put it, “When we mess up, God doesn’t desert us but enters into our troubles and saves us.” It’s a good reminder for us to leave our past behind and move forward with God in the light of grace. Our mistakes and messes are the opportunities that God uses to move into our lives, help us to see clearly and turn around, and start anew.
Sometimes, though, we choose to stay stuck in the past, convinced that we’ll never get away from it. Jesus met someone like this during his ministry, a woman at a well who was stuck in her past. For many reasons, one of which was the culture in which she lived, she was unable to move away from that past on her own.
In commentaries and sermons, this woman at the well is often presented as someone of questionable moral character. People read that she had five husbands and they conclude that there’s something immoral about her living. But, as is so often the case, such interpretations are mistaken.
There is no evidence of immorality. In fact, as a woman in a patriarchal society, she was most likely a victim. And more than that, Jesus doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about her character. He’s not blinded by the past. He doesn’t conclude anything about her morality. Jesus simply sees her and receives her as she is, and invites her to drink from the well of God’s living water.
Jesus never worries about what the culture of his day tells him is appropriate or acceptable. He just goes around loving those he meets and doesn’t worry about the past.
The woman at the well gets a fresh start on life when Jesus simply treats her like a human being rather than a piece of property. Do we have the vision and the courage to see ourselves and others that way too? Are we willing to love God, our neighbors, our enemies, and give ourselves away for the sake of love?
If yes, then maybe we’ve finally learned how to leave our past where it belongs – in the past.
In faith and love,
Dan
The Hardest Thing - January, 2020
If you had to name the most difficult task you face in your everyday world, what would it be? Meeting the demands of a difficult job? Learning how to get along with a diverse set of co-workers? Maintaining healthy balance in relationships with family and friends? Standing and speaking up for what’s most important?
Every month or two I preach on the topic of forgiveness. And invariably, a few people in the post-worship greeting line will say to me: “I really needed to hear that today. But forgiving someone is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
I think honest comments like this are right on target. And the truth is, forgiveness gets even more difficult when the one we need to pardon is someone we care for deeply. George Ross remarks on what forgiveness does, “When forgiveness occurs, a community is assembled. They assemble to celebrate. The neighbors are called in. Surely one of the most terrible consequences of sin is the loneliness of guilt. Forgiveness gives people back their friends and neighbors.”
Continually practicing forgiveness gives us the opportunity to remember the disarming gift of God’s mercy for all of us., and it gives us a chance to reconnect with the human community. When we immerse ourselves in a forgiving community, we discover our lives changed, our dreams re-energized, and our hopes empowered.
Lewis Smedes gets right to the point when he writes, “With a little time, and a little more insight, we begin to see both ourselves and our enemies in humbler profiles. We are not really as innocent as we felt when we were first hurt. And we don’t usually have a gigantic monster to forgive; we have a weak, needy, and somewhat stupid human being. When you see your enemy and yourself in the weakness and silliness of the humanity you share, you will make the miracle of forgiving a little easier.”
Maybe that’s why Jesus instructs us to love our enemies. When we find the courage to do that, we might also find the ability to forgive the worst within ourselves. As we enter 2020, may we all embody the hard and worthwhile work of forgiveness.
In faith and love,
Pastor Dan
I don’t know about you, but in recent days it has been hard to think about much other than things related to the coronavirus. And as we all scramble to restructure our lives, it seems as if everything else has been pushed aside. It only just hit me that Easter is in three weeks! The other day my boy came up to me and asked, “Dad, will Easter be cancelled this year?”
Before I answered him various thoughts rushed through my head. Things like, “If I was Jesus, maybe I’d think twice about it this year… probably safer to just stay inside that tomb and leave the heavy stone in place. Even though it would be cold and dark, at least the germs couldn’t get in.”
In times of fear it’s natural to have thoughts like that creep in, and be tempted to give in to inclinations to hide and stay safe. But here’s what is also true: it’s precisely in these times - when cold and darkness abounds, when our lives and our hopes are on lockdown, when it seems that the news is only bad and getting worse – it’s in moments like this that Easter happens. Maybe in the midst of this pandemic, perhaps even for the first time in our lives, we are primed to fully experience Easter, especially where we may feel unprepared or ill-equipped to do so.
After all, that has always been the nature of the story. God breaking in, life emerging, love bursting forth in places and ways we don’t, or can’t, anticipate. The disciples weren’t ready. Oh, they thought they were, but then when things got tough, they fell away. Hid. Betrayed. Denied. Even though they had been told six ways to Sunday, even though they had walked with Jesus and heard his teachings, they weren’t prepared for Easter to happen.
Pilate and the Roman authorities weren’t prepared either. Oh sure, they had their laws and enforcements. They thought they could dictate all the outcomes through brute force and dehumanizing violence on a cross. They thought the tombstone was immovable. They never saw Easter coming.
Even the women at the tomb didn’t see it. They arrived anticipating doing nothing more than anointing a corpse. They had no idea anything else was possible, overcome as they were by despair. They weren’t prepared to meet the risen Christ, the love that conquers all the places of death.
We don’t see Easter coming either. Like the disciples, we feel beaten down and lost. Like Pilate and the Romans, we act as if the forces of death in this world have the final say. Like the women at the tomb, we get consumed by grief and we live as if nothing ever changes. And that’s before Easter was under quarantine!
But the promise of Easter is that there is no tomb, no fear, no violence, no despair, no plague, no quarantine that can separate us from God’s unyielding love. Easter is a green blade that rises no matter what is used to bury or encase it. Resurrection takes the ugliest parts of our world and of us and transforms them into something new. It takes whatever is dead in us and brings it back to life, even when – especially when – we least expect it. And none of this is subject to change. It just is. It just happens. No matter what…
I snapped out of my reverie. My son stood before me, awaiting a response. “Dad, will Easter be cancelled this year?” I looked at him and said simply, “No way, buddy, because God loves us. And there’s nothing that can cancel that.”
In faith and love,
Dan
Out of the Boat - March, 2020
Last year my family was delayed flying home from a vacation in Southern Florida. There were tornadoes and sever weather incidents across the entire Southeast, and when we did manage to get out, we hit some severe turbulence over Arkansas. When a pilot abruptly says, “Flight attendants be seated,” it’s never a reassuring feeling. And as we hit the rough air, I remember trying to look calm as I read the same sentence five times in the travel magazine. Then I just put it down and closed my eyes, hoping to wait it out. My boys, of course, thought it was fun. All the jostling and dips were like a ride to them. I wish I could say the same. I may have looked calm on the outside, but inside I was a mess of fear and nervousness. In the end I just sat there and prayed, “God, keep us up, keep us up, keep us up.”
According to the great preacher John Ortberg, most of us live somewhere between fear and faith. Our lives and the decisions we make are often determined by one of those two factors.
Matthew’s gospel tells the story of the disciples in a boat on the Sea of Galilee when a storm arises suddenly. Alone and afraid, they wonder what will become of them. But then they see something coming toward them, and they are terrified. Peter first recognizes that it’s Jesus, and he calls out, “Command me to come to you!” When Jesus says, “Come,” it’s his way of asking, “Are you ready to go with me, even in the storm? Is your faith strong enough to get up and go with me?”
I love this story – but try not to get caught up in it literally. What Jesus is asking Peter and the disciples to do is the same thing he’s asking us to consider. “Are you stuck in your boat? Do you always look for the easy way out, the safe way, the ‘don’t make me get off the couch and do something with my life’ way?”
Nearly all of us have times when what we really need is to binge-watch a favorite television show all day and not get off the couch. I’ve done it – and I can’t wait for the next season of “Ozark” to start so I can lose myself in it.
But there is within the human soul a call to adventure, to do something with your life. Peter sees Jesus on the water and right then everything is clear. He knows he wants to follow. He understands that there is no storm too great. He’ll go wherever, do whatever it takes to walk with Jesus.
Then, as you remember, he starts to sink. I can imagine the other disciples thinking, “Well, what did you think would happen? It’s water. And it’s not frozen, so of course you’ll sink! You should have stayed in the boat with us.”
And all of that is true, but Peter can always say, “Yes it was crazy, but for a few steps I had it! I was walking on water!” They can criticize him all they want, but he will always have that. He took a chance. He stepped onto the court. He was inspired, even if for an instant, to trust in God.
Where in your life do you need courage right now? What do you need to do to get out of the boat and take those first tentative steps?
If you’d prefer your fear to go away before you face whatever it is out there, know this: that will never happen. If you’re doing anything that matters, fear will always be a part of it.
The fear involved with taking risks never quite goes away. Fear of failure is perhaps the greatest reason we don’t get out of our boats but as John Ortberg says, “It was Peter’s willingness to risk failure that helped him to grow.”
All of us live somewhere between fear and faith. Our fullest lives are found when we face the fear and step out in faith.
In faith and love,
Dan
Past In Our Eyes - February, 2020
In a beloved Peanuts comic strip, Lucy – Charlie Brown’s friend and, at times, adversary – is about to catch a fly ball that is hit toward her position in right field. The ball hits the center of her glove, but pops out and falls to the ground. Charlie Brown runs out and asks, “Lucy, what happened?”
“The past got in my eyes.” We smile because it’s funny but we also know that what Lucy is talking about isn’t just about her and her out fielding skills, it’s about us. The past has the power to blind us, freeze us, and leave us emotionally and spiritually crippled.
Many of us were raised to think that when we fail, fall short, or otherwise sin, God will be looking to punish us. But, in fact, the opposite is true. As one pastor put it, “When we mess up, God doesn’t desert us but enters into our troubles and saves us.” It’s a good reminder for us to leave our past behind and move forward with God in the light of grace. Our mistakes and messes are the opportunities that God uses to move into our lives, help us to see clearly and turn around, and start anew.
Sometimes, though, we choose to stay stuck in the past, convinced that we’ll never get away from it. Jesus met someone like this during his ministry, a woman at a well who was stuck in her past. For many reasons, one of which was the culture in which she lived, she was unable to move away from that past on her own.
In commentaries and sermons, this woman at the well is often presented as someone of questionable moral character. People read that she had five husbands and they conclude that there’s something immoral about her living. But, as is so often the case, such interpretations are mistaken.
There is no evidence of immorality. In fact, as a woman in a patriarchal society, she was most likely a victim. And more than that, Jesus doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about her character. He’s not blinded by the past. He doesn’t conclude anything about her morality. Jesus simply sees her and receives her as she is, and invites her to drink from the well of God’s living water.
Jesus never worries about what the culture of his day tells him is appropriate or acceptable. He just goes around loving those he meets and doesn’t worry about the past.
The woman at the well gets a fresh start on life when Jesus simply treats her like a human being rather than a piece of property. Do we have the vision and the courage to see ourselves and others that way too? Are we willing to love God, our neighbors, our enemies, and give ourselves away for the sake of love?
If yes, then maybe we’ve finally learned how to leave our past where it belongs – in the past.
In faith and love,
Dan
The Hardest Thing - January, 2020
If you had to name the most difficult task you face in your everyday world, what would it be? Meeting the demands of a difficult job? Learning how to get along with a diverse set of co-workers? Maintaining healthy balance in relationships with family and friends? Standing and speaking up for what’s most important?
Every month or two I preach on the topic of forgiveness. And invariably, a few people in the post-worship greeting line will say to me: “I really needed to hear that today. But forgiving someone is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
I think honest comments like this are right on target. And the truth is, forgiveness gets even more difficult when the one we need to pardon is someone we care for deeply. George Ross remarks on what forgiveness does, “When forgiveness occurs, a community is assembled. They assemble to celebrate. The neighbors are called in. Surely one of the most terrible consequences of sin is the loneliness of guilt. Forgiveness gives people back their friends and neighbors.”
Continually practicing forgiveness gives us the opportunity to remember the disarming gift of God’s mercy for all of us., and it gives us a chance to reconnect with the human community. When we immerse ourselves in a forgiving community, we discover our lives changed, our dreams re-energized, and our hopes empowered.
Lewis Smedes gets right to the point when he writes, “With a little time, and a little more insight, we begin to see both ourselves and our enemies in humbler profiles. We are not really as innocent as we felt when we were first hurt. And we don’t usually have a gigantic monster to forgive; we have a weak, needy, and somewhat stupid human being. When you see your enemy and yourself in the weakness and silliness of the humanity you share, you will make the miracle of forgiving a little easier.”
Maybe that’s why Jesus instructs us to love our enemies. When we find the courage to do that, we might also find the ability to forgive the worst within ourselves. As we enter 2020, may we all embody the hard and worthwhile work of forgiveness.
In faith and love,
Pastor Dan