Pastor’s Notes in the Key of D
Loving Our Entire Family - July, 2020
One of the most beautiful texts in the Bible tells us, “Love one another deeply from the heart.” In other words, love as if your life depends on it; love as if there’s nothing else that matters; love in a way that clearly communicates your compassion for family, friends, and neighbors (which, as the Bible reminds us, isn’t just the people on your street - it’s any other human being).
This teaching isn’t hard to understand, just a daily challenge to put into practice. Part of the difficulty of putting love into action is the feeling that it isn’t enough in the face of a world torn apart by so many divisions - racism, poverty, fear, and hatred. Then again, maybe those very things can have the ability to move us even closer to the practice of love, as they make us realize that love is our last and best hope.
That’s how I’ve been feeling lately as I’ve listened to a diversity of voices – primarily the voices of people of color – calling out once again for White America to listen, to reflect and learn, and, ultimately, to be a part of substantive change that moves us toward greater equality for all people. As White Christians, it can be challenging to attend to this work. As was stated in the first meeting of our new “White Privilege” class/conversation, “It’s messy and vulnerable to talk about things like ‘race’ and ‘privilege’ and ‘justice,’ and many of us white people have been brought up not to talk about them and our relationship to them at all.” Similarly, it can be tough to talk as Christians about how to deal with such topics. Many of us were raised in churches that avoided real engagement in messy issues related to “social justice” in favor of a safer focus on charity and emphasis on an individual relationship with the divine.
So here comes this word from Peter reminding us that we are to, on top of loving deeply, “rid ourselves of all malice, all guile, insincerity, envy, and all slander.” It is our mutual love that inspires us to recognize that ours is not a “God and me” relationship. We are part of a larger body. To be a part of the church is to be in an extended and ever-extending family. This family is not defined by skin color, age, gender identity, or sexual orientation. It’s not about who’s in and who’s out, who will be loved and who will be ignored. This family is determined by God’s overwhelming grace. Period. This family, at its best, asks us to put love at the center, and to act on behalf of that love for our family. Our entire family.
Jesus didn’t hold altar calls. His ultimate concern was not the confession of an individual relationship with God. Instead, he invited us to give our lives to the way of God’s love, so that we and the world might be transformed. May we all give ourselves to being this kind of church, however messy, vulnerable, or uncomfortable it might be. In the end, I believe we will find Jesus walking with and encouraging us every step of the way.
In faith and love,
Dan
What Makes Us A Church - June, 2020
Part of the national conversation in recent days has had a lot to do with church, and whether or not churches are “essential” and should be allowed to “re-open” in these days of the pandemic. Many opinions have been shared on both a national and local level, and the only thing that is clear these days is that little is clear. Some faith communities, like ours and many within the UCC, are opting for a wait and see approach – choosing not to rush back in to physical gatherings. Other communities have chosen differently. In California, some churches have sued the government for the right to gather. We are all trying to figure out how to best “be church” as we go.
And it has got me thinking about what exactly it means to “be” church. There has been a Facebook meme going around – some of you have shared it, many have probably seen it – that talks about how the church has not been “closed” so it’s doesn’t need to be “re-opened.” It is simply continuing to practice its essential work of protecting the well-being and health of people and communities. A building, a physical meeting place, is not necessary to having these things happen.
The earliest church teachers were well aware of this. The apostle Paul was clear in his instructions. “Do you want to be the church? Then practice love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, and faithfulness.” It’s not about a building, or a specific way of gathering for worship. It’s a way of living, of being out there in the world. To follow what Paul instructs means we will pay attention to the needs of others, especially those who are vulnerable. It requires that we take the focus off our own needs and see where we can make a difference in our world. The strength of each one of us, of our communities, and of our nation, is always found in the ability to care for others. THIS is what it means to be church.
We all miss the connection, the hugs, the shared sense of sacred togetherness that physical proximity provides. None of this is easy to do. But for the time being, I believe the best way for us to care for one another, to be the church with and for one another, and to practice what Paul is talking about is to continue gathering virtually, maintaining practices of physical distance while seeking creative means to live out our deepest calling.
In faith and love,
Dan
The Reopen/Regather Question - May, 2020
Across various news outlets these days, we’re seeing more and more stories about the topic of reopening our society and our economy. For so many of us this is a welcome conversation. We want to get back to the parts of our lives that we’ve been missing with all this social distancing. We want to see and touch our loved ones again. We want to be in the physical presence of our church family. But the process of making this happen is one that requires thoughtful and purposeful consideration.
I came across a beautiful “poem-as-planning” piece written on this topic by a friend and colleague in ministry, the Rev. Elena Larssen (she pastors a UCC church in Long Beach, CA). She has given permission to share the following (with a few minor edits for context), and I offer them as an illustration of how we at FCC Auburn are engaging the same conversation. It’s called “Reopen/Regather.”
We reopen when the city, state, and county say we may. Listening to you, Gov. Newsom.
We reopen when our denominational leadership advises it. Listening to you, Dr. Villanueva of the United Church of Christ.
We reopen when our professional advisors recommend it. Listening to you, insurance company.
We reopen when our peer organizations are opening again. Listening to you, Auburn area churches.
We reopen when the staff is secure that they can hold safe events. Listening to you, church staff.
We reopen when we have access to enough supplies to sanitize after events. Listening to you, Custodian and Board of Buildings and Grounds.
We reopen when our appointed leaders have convened and made a judgement call. Listening to you, Church Council and Medical Advisory Team (for more on this, see the Moderator’s announcement).
The question is not when. The question is how.
We regather modestly. When we are allowed to start regathering, it will likely be very small groups only.
We regather gradually, keeping online worship alive as a new part of our church life. Picture the minister, music director, accompanist, and/or singers leading a service when the congregation is still at home.
We regather with a segmented schedule. Like other countries, younger people may be allowed in public first. Picture the kids' programs being able to gather, while we keep adult programs online.
We regather and keep some things online. Some groups are finding that evening meetings are quicker and more inclusive online.
We regather without some of our favorites on the calendar. Sadly, some events will be postponed much longer than others.
We regather with a spirit of humility. Every program and group will have reduced capacity and goals, so we will put the wellness of the whole before the success of any one group or goal.
We regather with a spirit of service. Some people are suffering greatly while some are in relative comfort during the shut-down, meaning that regathering will reveal heightened disparities. We will respect each other’s needs with love and non-judgement in thought, word, and deed.
We regather with faith. It is faith that allows us to seek wisdom in suffering, find new skills during times of duress, and remember that we love each other for better and for worse.
This is the meaning of church. Our hearts and minds are open to the ways and the days when we will regather.
Shifting our perspective from “when can we reopen” to “how shall we regather” activates our creativity and brings us to greater wisdom. Shifting our perspective is a way to shape a vision that will give us hope and help us endure. While endurance may not feel joyful, it is a path to wisdom.
I’m so thankful for Rev. Larssen’s words. And while there is no way to know specifics about when we may reopen our doors as a church, these are the kinds of things your church leadership is already considering as we seek to remain, and expand what it means to be, a gathered community.
In faith and love,
Dan
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
One of the most beautiful texts in the Bible tells us, “Love one another deeply from the heart.” In other words, love as if your life depends on it; love as if there’s nothing else that matters; love in a way that clearly communicates your compassion for family, friends, and neighbors (which, as the Bible reminds us, isn’t just the people on your street - it’s any other human being).
This teaching isn’t hard to understand, just a daily challenge to put into practice. Part of the difficulty of putting love into action is the feeling that it isn’t enough in the face of a world torn apart by so many divisions - racism, poverty, fear, and hatred. Then again, maybe those very things can have the ability to move us even closer to the practice of love, as they make us realize that love is our last and best hope.
That’s how I’ve been feeling lately as I’ve listened to a diversity of voices – primarily the voices of people of color – calling out once again for White America to listen, to reflect and learn, and, ultimately, to be a part of substantive change that moves us toward greater equality for all people. As White Christians, it can be challenging to attend to this work. As was stated in the first meeting of our new “White Privilege” class/conversation, “It’s messy and vulnerable to talk about things like ‘race’ and ‘privilege’ and ‘justice,’ and many of us white people have been brought up not to talk about them and our relationship to them at all.” Similarly, it can be tough to talk as Christians about how to deal with such topics. Many of us were raised in churches that avoided real engagement in messy issues related to “social justice” in favor of a safer focus on charity and emphasis on an individual relationship with the divine.
So here comes this word from Peter reminding us that we are to, on top of loving deeply, “rid ourselves of all malice, all guile, insincerity, envy, and all slander.” It is our mutual love that inspires us to recognize that ours is not a “God and me” relationship. We are part of a larger body. To be a part of the church is to be in an extended and ever-extending family. This family is not defined by skin color, age, gender identity, or sexual orientation. It’s not about who’s in and who’s out, who will be loved and who will be ignored. This family is determined by God’s overwhelming grace. Period. This family, at its best, asks us to put love at the center, and to act on behalf of that love for our family. Our entire family.
Jesus didn’t hold altar calls. His ultimate concern was not the confession of an individual relationship with God. Instead, he invited us to give our lives to the way of God’s love, so that we and the world might be transformed. May we all give ourselves to being this kind of church, however messy, vulnerable, or uncomfortable it might be. In the end, I believe we will find Jesus walking with and encouraging us every step of the way.
In faith and love,
Dan
What Makes Us A Church - June, 2020
Part of the national conversation in recent days has had a lot to do with church, and whether or not churches are “essential” and should be allowed to “re-open” in these days of the pandemic. Many opinions have been shared on both a national and local level, and the only thing that is clear these days is that little is clear. Some faith communities, like ours and many within the UCC, are opting for a wait and see approach – choosing not to rush back in to physical gatherings. Other communities have chosen differently. In California, some churches have sued the government for the right to gather. We are all trying to figure out how to best “be church” as we go.
And it has got me thinking about what exactly it means to “be” church. There has been a Facebook meme going around – some of you have shared it, many have probably seen it – that talks about how the church has not been “closed” so it’s doesn’t need to be “re-opened.” It is simply continuing to practice its essential work of protecting the well-being and health of people and communities. A building, a physical meeting place, is not necessary to having these things happen.
The earliest church teachers were well aware of this. The apostle Paul was clear in his instructions. “Do you want to be the church? Then practice love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, and faithfulness.” It’s not about a building, or a specific way of gathering for worship. It’s a way of living, of being out there in the world. To follow what Paul instructs means we will pay attention to the needs of others, especially those who are vulnerable. It requires that we take the focus off our own needs and see where we can make a difference in our world. The strength of each one of us, of our communities, and of our nation, is always found in the ability to care for others. THIS is what it means to be church.
We all miss the connection, the hugs, the shared sense of sacred togetherness that physical proximity provides. None of this is easy to do. But for the time being, I believe the best way for us to care for one another, to be the church with and for one another, and to practice what Paul is talking about is to continue gathering virtually, maintaining practices of physical distance while seeking creative means to live out our deepest calling.
In faith and love,
Dan
The Reopen/Regather Question - May, 2020
Across various news outlets these days, we’re seeing more and more stories about the topic of reopening our society and our economy. For so many of us this is a welcome conversation. We want to get back to the parts of our lives that we’ve been missing with all this social distancing. We want to see and touch our loved ones again. We want to be in the physical presence of our church family. But the process of making this happen is one that requires thoughtful and purposeful consideration.
I came across a beautiful “poem-as-planning” piece written on this topic by a friend and colleague in ministry, the Rev. Elena Larssen (she pastors a UCC church in Long Beach, CA). She has given permission to share the following (with a few minor edits for context), and I offer them as an illustration of how we at FCC Auburn are engaging the same conversation. It’s called “Reopen/Regather.”
We reopen when the city, state, and county say we may. Listening to you, Gov. Newsom.
We reopen when our denominational leadership advises it. Listening to you, Dr. Villanueva of the United Church of Christ.
We reopen when our professional advisors recommend it. Listening to you, insurance company.
We reopen when our peer organizations are opening again. Listening to you, Auburn area churches.
We reopen when the staff is secure that they can hold safe events. Listening to you, church staff.
We reopen when we have access to enough supplies to sanitize after events. Listening to you, Custodian and Board of Buildings and Grounds.
We reopen when our appointed leaders have convened and made a judgement call. Listening to you, Church Council and Medical Advisory Team (for more on this, see the Moderator’s announcement).
The question is not when. The question is how.
We regather modestly. When we are allowed to start regathering, it will likely be very small groups only.
We regather gradually, keeping online worship alive as a new part of our church life. Picture the minister, music director, accompanist, and/or singers leading a service when the congregation is still at home.
We regather with a segmented schedule. Like other countries, younger people may be allowed in public first. Picture the kids' programs being able to gather, while we keep adult programs online.
We regather and keep some things online. Some groups are finding that evening meetings are quicker and more inclusive online.
We regather without some of our favorites on the calendar. Sadly, some events will be postponed much longer than others.
We regather with a spirit of humility. Every program and group will have reduced capacity and goals, so we will put the wellness of the whole before the success of any one group or goal.
We regather with a spirit of service. Some people are suffering greatly while some are in relative comfort during the shut-down, meaning that regathering will reveal heightened disparities. We will respect each other’s needs with love and non-judgement in thought, word, and deed.
We regather with faith. It is faith that allows us to seek wisdom in suffering, find new skills during times of duress, and remember that we love each other for better and for worse.
This is the meaning of church. Our hearts and minds are open to the ways and the days when we will regather.
Shifting our perspective from “when can we reopen” to “how shall we regather” activates our creativity and brings us to greater wisdom. Shifting our perspective is a way to shape a vision that will give us hope and help us endure. While endurance may not feel joyful, it is a path to wisdom.
I’m so thankful for Rev. Larssen’s words. And while there is no way to know specifics about when we may reopen our doors as a church, these are the kinds of things your church leadership is already considering as we seek to remain, and expand what it means to be, a gathered community.
In faith and love,
Dan
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