A Prayer for Christmas Eve

O Holy One whose face we have long waited to see, on the eve of Christmas we gather here in the peaceful quiet with grateful hearts.  We come here to withdraw from the commotion of this season and to draw near to you, basking in the delight of your fulfilled promise that you have drawn near to us. 

On the Eve of Christmas we pray that you may grant to us the faith of Mary, granting within us the trust that You can and will do something amazing within us and through us.  May we, by your grace, accept the call that has been given to each of us to be Godbearers.

On the Eve of Christmas we pray that you might give us the courage of Joseph, bestowing upon us the willingness to embrace the uncertainty that comes when You are among us, dreaming up a new dream for us.  Help us to have the audacity to believe that to whatever You are calling us is far better than anything we can imagine on our own.

On the Eve of Christmas we pray that you may give us the joy of the Shepherds.  May we each have the trust to leave behind our burdens so that we may seek out your face.  May we each leave your manger with gladness in our hearts; praising you and basking in the Divine Truth that we are no longer alone in this life, and that You are with us.  May we sing of your glory as we consider your wonderful works.

On the Eve of Christmas we pray that Love may be reborn into our hearts and into the hearts of all your people.  May we, empowered by the Love you have shown us through Christmas, journey together remembering that above all else, we are called to love you and to love each other.

We pray these things tonight in the name of Emmanuel.

Amen. 

When Love Snuggles Up: What my dog teaches me about Christmas

In addition to our two human children, Debra and I share our house with a dog.  Our dog is a big red dog (obligatory Clifford reference, RIP Norman Bridwell!) named Amos.  He is awkward, he is somewhat annoying, and he eats like there is no tomorrow. In the 5 years he has been a part of our life, Deb and I have determined that Amos has two main priorities: His number one priority? Food.  If his bowl isn't perpetually filled, he will whine and paw to the point where we either have to fill it, or pick it up (we will admit to doing more of the former rather than the latter, which probably explains why Amos is a touch on the heavy side). Number two on his list is the need of the constant, focused attention of one of the humans in the house (usually, it seems, me).

When Amos wants attention, there is no mistaking what it is he desires, and there is no denying him.  He will very purposefully walk over to you, and sit down in such a way that his nose is no more than six inches or so from yours.  He will then look at you like this....

Are you paying attention?

He will then sit there and stare at you until you of course, start petting him. But woe to the one who stops petting him before he is finished with you. If you dare attempt to move on to something else, he will promptly repeat the entire procedure, as many times as necessary until he is convinced, once again, that he is in fact loved by the humans in his house.

The other morning I was running late to get out the door on my way to church.  It's been a busy week this week, it's almost like there is a MAJOR Holy Day coming up or something, and I was distracted by the rather extensive to-do list awaiting me.  I sat down to put my shoes on, and here comes Amos, he lumbers over in such a way that makes the floor shake and then assumes the position.  It seems that he always picks the most inconvenient times to demand my attention.  But it's like he knew...it's like he knew that my brain was in different places, and he knew that he would have to try a different tactic.  So as I'm sitting there, trying to lace-up my shoes with this very serious face not a foot a way from mine, as I'm trying to get on with the busyness of my day, Amos very gently lays his head on my legs and looked up at me with a face that said only one thing: "I just want to know I matter...."

What can you do in a situation like that, except love on your dog?  And, you  know, it was a good experience. I was thankful for that opportunity because  it feels good when love snuggles up, doesn't it?  It feels good whether it's our pets, our children, our parents, our friends, or our significant others.  It feels good when the feeling of love becomes tangibly present and we have a reminder to come out of our own little bubbles and be reminded of the bigger picture, and of what really matters.   When love snuggles up, for just a moment, nothing else really matters, everything else seems to fade away, and you find yourself lost in the present moment.

As we journey together into the busyness of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, we can all find ourselves being drawn into our own little bubbles.  We are all trying to check off our to-do lists and ensure that everything is just "perfect."  Of course, this is nothing new, it's been like this for, it seems, forever. We humans have this determination within us to continue doing the things we think are right, without hesitation, question, or consideration of motives or purpose. Even when it comes to holy causes, we continue to try to create the experiences in our image, and our likeness, giving only second thought to the One who is the great Creator, and the One who invites us to share in the Holiness.

When Amos laid his head down on my leg, showing me in his own way that he loved me and wanted to be loved by me, I could not help but think of a night 2000+ years ago in a town called Bethlehem  when the God of Love decided to creep into our world and into our lives and snuggle up beside us. I cannot help but think that God of all Creation shared the same desire as my dog; the desire to show us how much we are loved, and how much God wanted to be loved by us.

Sometimes Love knows no other way to get our attention besides squirming and wedging its way into the forefront of our consciousness, demanding our attention, and compelling us to consider how we will respond.

Just as I am thankful to have not passed up the opportunity to share in a moment of love with my dog, I am thankful that we all have the opportunity to share in a similar moment with one another and with the One who is the complete personification of Love on Christmas Eve. I am glad to have the moments of sacredness that Christmas provides to be thankful for the love that is present in my life and the Love that connects each and every one of us together.

Merry Christmas

On Children, Communion, and an "Open Table"

A few months ago, my family was on vacation in Kansas City, MO and on Sunday morning we visited a congregation that we sometimes worship with when we are not with our home churches.  This congregation is a small group of Disciples who do a wonderful job in making all who enter into the worship space feel welcomed and like a critical element of the community.  When it came time for communion, my wife and I were a tad uncertain about how our then- 2 year old would handle going up front to partake in the elements.  Expecting a touch of chaos, we got in the back of the line so that no one would be waiting on us.   When it came time for our son to tear of the bread and dip it into the cup he did so joyfully and eagerly.  After eating the Bread he turned to my wife and I and proclaimed loudly, “I want more!”   This was a holy moment for our family, and I was thankful to this congregation for welcoming our son into that time of sacredness.   Thankfully, there are many of our congregations in the DoC that share in a similar practice of inclusivity, however, I know that this is not universal, and I know that there is still some question about when (and how) our children can share in the Table.

 This is a sensitive issue for some within our Denominational family, and I really have never fully understood why.  I’ve never really understood the tension between proclaiming an “open table” and then setting up a stipulation that essentially says, “The Table will be open to you, once you meet a certain set of criteria.” I believe this also sends a conflicting and possibly damaging message to our young people as they continue to try to find their place within the wholeness of Congregational life. 

The most common justification I have heard from folks who are entrenched into the camp that says children must wait until a certain age or until they are baptized, is that until they reach that milestone, don’t “get it.”  Now I don’t know about anyone else, but I’ve been a member of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) my entire life, and I’ve been in ministry for ten years, and I still don’t “get” what happens at the Lord’s Table.  I don’t fully understand what it means to share in the fullness of community and grace.  I don’t fully grasp what it means to be loved even to the point of death.  All I know is that I need community, grace, and love and I find all of those things at the Communion table.  And that every time I experience a time of communion, I want more.

Just as I need community, grace, and love I know that our children need to feel these same things and I know that as we continue to attempt to integrate our children into the fullness of worship, they will hear their ministers talking about these things and how Christ offers them to all people. How confusing it must be for them to be told that Christ welcomes all, but then have the communion plate passed over them or to be told to stay in their seats as their parents and older siblings make the journey to the front of the sanctuary. 

As a father, I will never deny my boys the opportunity to share in the meal of Love, and I pray for the day when all our congregations do likewise for all of our children.  

Good News? Great Joy

On Wednesday, December 17, FCC-Midwest City hosted it's annual "Service of Remembrance" for those in our community who's spirits perhaps aren't the brightest this Christmas time.  I was blessed to have the opportunity to bring the message.  I thought I'd share it with the world....

Good News? Great Joy?

Luke 2: 1-11

December 17, 2014

It would have been a lonely night.  Of course, every night is lonely for a shepherd….why would that night have been any different? It would have been cold, too.  Nights get cold on the desert. It would have been dark. 

Lonely.  Cold.  Dark.  Not exactly the scene we think of when we imagine Christmas, is it? Certainly this is a different image than the one that was painted last Sunday night by our children. We’d like to imagine a different picture at Christmastime.  We like to picture Christmas as a time of lights, action, and festive moods.  We hear songs on the radio about friends and family coming from near and far, gathering together to pass pumpkin pie and coffee while singing songs around the old piano.  This is what Christmas should be, right? If we don’t at least attempt to create this picture, if we’re not continuously basking in “the most wonderful time of the year,” we risk being labeled a “Scrooge.”  And who wants to be a Scrooge?

There’s just one small snag, however.  As I read the story of Christmas, more specifically, Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus, I don’t find a big, festive party.  Now, don’t mis-understand what I’m saying, I’m all for partying it up at Christmastime…I mean, I’m the guy who has had Christmas music on in the office since before Thanksgiving.  There is certainly nothing wrong (and there are so many things right) about hanging the lights on the house, passing around the eggnog, and braving the lines at the malls….all I’m suggesting is that there perhaps is another layer to the Christmas story….one that goes beyond the lights, glitz, and glamour of the festive season, and dives into the heart of the everyday reality of life. 

And this is good news for us, because what brings us here to worship here tonight is the realization and understanding that in some way the reality of life has crept in and made a home in the midst of the festive wonder of Christmas.  This can be scary, unsettling experience and realization.  We can wake up one day and realize that like Charlie Brown in “Charlie Brown’s Christmas,” we notice that everyone else is having fun; we recognize that we are supposed to join in those festivities…but for some reason, we just cannot.  This tension can create a lonely feeling that we cannot explain, but from which we cannot shake free.

Thankfully, the Church is now doing a far better job recognizing and acknowledging this reality.  Many different congregations are holding a time of worship like this.  This time gets called by many different names.  Some places call it, “The Longest Night,” others call it “Blue Christmas,” we call it the “Service of Remembrance,” but no matter by what name these sacred moments of worship are called, we know that at the heart of it all, this is a time where we can come and join with friends and family who are kindred spirits and companions on this journey, and we can look around this beautiful sanctuary and give thanks that we are NOT alone. 

We are not alone because of the companions we have beside us tonight, we are not alone because we worship and serve a God who promises to never leave us by ourselves, and we are not alone because as we enter the Christmas story in a new way, we recognize that the stories of those whom the Gospel authors tell us mirror our own stories in so many sacred ways. 

Take, for instance, the Shepherds.  While they are characters that get included in every single rendition of the Christmas story, we don’t often give the shepherds a whole lot of consideration.  But tonight, perhaps we can make a connection between us and them.  Perhaps we can picture them sitting there in the cold, lonely, darkness and we can insert ourselves into their place and them into ours.  Perhaps we think about our own experiences with the darkness…own own moving through our daily routines…just trying to get through the day in one piece.  Perhaps we, like the shepherds, don’t feel like we get a whole lot of consideration….perhaps we, like they, don’t feel like we’re fully understood. 

I mean, it’s hard to understand a shepherd….one who spends his days and night shouldering someone else’s burdens.  It’s hard to connect with one who spends all of their time away from any family or friends, and outside of the hustle and bustle of the city.  And it can be hard sometimes for our friends, neighbors, and family to fully understand us, as people whose festive lights perhaps aren’t exactly shining the brightest.  It’s hard to fully understand and empathize with one who has recently lost a parent or spouse…it’s hard to understand one whose children have recently moved to a new state and who is grieving that newfound separation….it’s hard to understand one who has family members deployed overseas and the worry and stress that causes for the one who stays behind….it’s hard to understand one who struggles with depression, and anxiety, and who can’t fully explain why they feel and think the things they do. It’s hard to understand one who has recently experienced job loss, yet still feels the pressure to create a “good” Christmas for their family.  This can create a new difficult reality, one that we can share with the shepherds, because at the end of the day, I think all that any of us want is to be understood.

The Good News, though, is that our God is a God who understands.  Just as God understood the shepherds, God understands you and me.  We remember that it is to the shepherds that the Angel first broke into that lonely darkness with the news that Emmanuel had been born.  It was the shepherds who heard, “Good News of Great Joy” that they would never again be made to feel alone, because God was with them, and from that moment forward, they would have a companion for their life’s journey. 

And in the same way, we, tonight, hear “Good News of Great Joy” that God is present with us…even in the midst of our uncertainties, our insecurities, our loneliness…God is there….and God is seeking to break into our loneliness and confusion with a proclamation that Emmanuel is with us. And so as we move ever closer to the stable of Bethlehem, let us do so with confidence trusting that no matter the condition of our own spirits, the Spirit of the Living God rests upon us and that Love dwells among us. 

Amen

Seasons Greetings

  "Seasons Greetings"

It's a phrase that is plastered somewhere in every town in every state across the country.When the "Seasons Greetings" banners, signs, and window paint begin making themselves visible, we know that the Christmas season has unofficially begun.  It is a phrase that, for one reason or another has seen itself as a flashpoint for critique, criticism, and debate.  Some view the phrase as the tragic result of "political correctness" and a new assault during the "War on Christmas."  Others understand these combination of words as an invitation for all people to enter into a season of joy, hope, wonder, and amazement.  There has been plenty of conflict between these two camps in regards to these two little words.  A quick perusal of social media will lead us to plenty of images proclaiming the poster's staked out position on this great debate.  For so many, it is a matter of the utmost importance, I, personally find it ridiculous. 

I never had given much (if any) thought to the phrase, that is, until last night...until the events in Ferguson unfolded before our eyes on national television.  There was incredibly brutal irony to be found in the midst of the tragic violence that erupted after the Grand Jury announcement. Forget the rhetoric of "political correctness," and the silly debate on whether or not we have to say, "Merry Christmas," last night, an actual battle took place underneath the "Seasons Greetings" Banner that was strung across the street in downtown Ferguson. Powerful images, such as this one captured the sheer brokenness that unfolded underneath and around a phrase that is meant to usher in a season of hope, peace, joy, and love.  it was a sad moment, and in the midst of everything else, all of the other questions that exist in and around the scenario that continues to unfold in Ferguson, I found my heart breaking.  My heart broke for the family of Michael Brown, who, prior to the announcement, made a passionate plea for peace; my heart broke for the family of Darren Wilson;  my heart broke for the police who were on riot duty last night, instead of preparing for Thanksgiving dinner;  my heart broke for the protesters, both those who stood in peaceful solidarity and those who felt that they had no other recourse than to act out in violent ways; my heart broke for the shop owners whose livelihood was damaged or destroyed in the riots; my heart broke for the people of St. Louis; and I think, ultimately, my heart broke for all of us. 

And it was in that moment, as I watched those events unfold underneath that "Seasons Greetings" banner, not even sure what I was supposed to be feeling or what questions I was supposed to be asking, that I started to understand Christmas a little more fully.  Last night showed me, in a new way, why we desperately need Christmas and why Christmas matters.  The events that unfolded in Ferguson were not unique, it happens every time where fear, suspicion, desperation and oppression (both real and perceived) meet power, authority, and the desire to maintain status quo. This has been one of the narratives of our history as a people, and it is most certainly the narrative into which Jesus was born.  Brokenness and division is a real thing.  It was real 2,000+ years ago when a young couple named Mary and Joseph brought into the world a baby named Jesus, and it is real today.  
But the Good News is that it is into that brokenness that God decides to show up.  Just as I believe with everything I have that God was present among the people of Israel, I believe just as strongly that God was present among the people of Ferguson and I believe that God is present anywhere and everywhere that pain, fear, and brokenness are present.  This is the story of Christmas.  Christmas is a reminder that we are not alone, and it is a promise that eventually, some how, some way, peace and love will overcome fear and violence.  

But this victory does not and can not come about magically or by accident.  Christmas requires direct participation from the brave and the fearful and from the oppressed and the ones doing the oppressing.  Just as God desperately needed Mary and Joseph to participate in Christmas by bringing the light that was and is Jesus into the world, God desperately needs us to do likewise.

So how do we do it?  How do we, even in the midst of the violence and chaos that engulfs our consciousness, commit ourselves to be bearers of light and hope into the world?  it seems to me that it begins and ends with a shift in our mentality and our way of thinking.  It requires a shift in how we see, understand, and interact with the world.  To bear light means that we are willing to begin to take up the mantle of peace.  Since the events in Ferguson began back in August, there has been lots of talk (perhaps justly, perhaps not) about the (de) militarization of our police forces.  There have been questions why local police need some of the pieces of equipment that they currently possess, but not once have I heard a conversation about the (de) militarization of ourselves.  We are a people who are pre-disposed to violence.  We see this in our movies, our video games, our music, our clothing, and our children's cartoons. We discover this as we study our history and read classical works of literature, we are reminded of this when we hear of our beloved actors and sports heroes violently abusing their spouses, children, or other members of society,  and we live this when we watch (or participate in) large scale altercations. Is it any wonder that our police forces have military-grade equipment when we have a military-grade worldview?

I don't have the answer, I don't know the magic word or possess the secret pill.  But I do know that if we continue down this path of violence, it will be our undoing, and I do know that this is not the life we have been called to live.  I do know that we are called to something bigger, better, and more faithful.  I do know that we have been called down the path of peace.  

Perhaps it will be this Christmas.  Perhaps it will be when we wish each other, "Seasons Greetings," "Merry Christmas" or whatever pairing of words suits you.  Perhaps it will be when we gather with our family and friends around the table of love.  Perhaps peace will come when we commit to stop looking with suspicion, and  start seeing the light of the Divine that shines within them.  Perhaps peace will come when we chose to make it so if we can live into the vision of Isaiah who said that peace would come when the people "beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore."

Seasons Greetings.  

Royally Blue

For as long as I can remember, I have been a Royals fan.  Born and raised in Kansas City, I was three years old when the Royals, under the leadership of Brett, Saberhagen, and the like, won the World Championship in 1985.  Even at the age of three, I remember those days and that time.  I remember getting so excited that George Brett had hit a homerun that I came running so fast to watch the celebration that I slipped on the floor, hit my head on a doorknob, and required stitches.  In my parents house there is still (I think) a team photo of that 1985 team taped to the back of the door of my bedroom. In the dead of winter I would pass the time on weekends playing baseball in the front room of my house, pretending I was Brett, or maybe Mike McFarlane, or perhaps Wally Joyner. I would collect Royals baseball cards, and would re-enact game scenarios using the cards.    I come by my Royals fandom authentically.The Royals are and have always been just as much a part of who I am as anything else.

But, as we know, it hasn't always been easy to be a Royals fan.  The history of the last 29 years of Royals baseball has been shared openly and freely over the years and throughout this postseason run.  These last few weeks I have had memories of those Royals teams of past years running through my mind.   Before the Royals were on TV regularly I would sit in my parents living room and listen to games over the stereo system, all the while living and dying through the words of Denny Matthews.  I remember the year where the Royals won like 4 (maybe more) walk-off games in a row, and the words of Ryan Lefebre, "What in the world is going on??"  I remember Bob (the Hammer) Hamelin.  I remember when we thought we were getting over the hump when we signed Benito Santiago and Jose Guillen after the 2003 season.  I remember pitchers like Scott Service and Runelyvs Hernandez. I remember Jeremy Affeldt and his blisters he would get on his fingers (guess he got that problem solved...) I remember going out to the seats by the bullpens on crazy hot summer days (before the renovations) and getting sprayed with a hose by the Royals pitchers. I remember going to games where it was so hot we, during every half inning would go get wads of wet paper towels to stick under our caps.

Do you remember these things?  What do you remember??

 In the summers in the late 90's and early 2000's I would go to the games with whoever I could convince to go with me.  I would usually wear the same get-up; a jersey, shorts, and my blue high school football socks.   One time, I was there with a friend and we were sitting in the far reaches of the upper deck, and we won the "Seat Upgrade" promotion. (we decided it was all because of the socks..) We moved to seats about 6 rows behind home plate, and got a great view of another loss.  But, for a high school kid, it was so cool being down there, next to the scouts....and to Buck O'Neil.

I was telling my wife (who is still become acquainted with the exasperating joy that is Royals baseball) as we sat in the same section on the third base line during Game 6 of the World Series about the Krispy Kreme promotions (12 hits = a dozen donuts) and how often we'd get more excited about the 12 hits than a possible win. I remember going straight from Kaufman to the nearest Krispy Kreme and sitting in crazy long drive through lines just to get my free donuts.

 This was my team...it was cheap, it was dysfunctional, it was bad....but it was mine.  Never was or has there been a day where I have ever thought about abandoning the Royals...because they never thought about abandoning us.  No matter what, the Royals would take the field on those hot Kansas City nights, and I would support them.

Though we would always say things like, "This is our year" or "just wait till next year...." I'm not so certain that we ever actually believed it. Sure it was fun to dream, but it is something else to actually believe that the dream could become real.

But this year...this summer was different.  Royals fans knew that this might be our best team in a generation.  We had good pitching, a solid lineup, we had tasted some success in 2013.  All the pieces were there.  We knew that there was also a sense of urgency...if for no other reason then it was James Shields' final year.  This was "THE YEAR"....it had to be.

And ohmygoodness it was.  The Royals, our Royals, led the Division not once, but TWICE, this season.  We clinched our first playoff spot since 1985. (with games to spare!)  I remember watching that clinching game against Chicago with my Dad and my (almost) 3 year old son. I remember thinking that night about how everything has come full circle. That was enough for me.  Had we not won another game, I, and I think most of us, would have been more than satisfied.  

But then...something strange happened: the Royals forgot how to lose.   These last few weeks have been something that I have never seen, experienced, or ever thought possible.  And it's not just about the baseball....not just about the wins....but it's about experiencing a renaissance for an entire generation of Kansas Citians.  Never in my life have I sensed and felt so much pride in who we are and where we come from.  People who were born in K.C and have moved away (like me) were proudly wearing their Royals gear no matter where their adopted home was. It didn't matter if it was NY, Chicago, LA, or OKC, Royals fans were loud, proud, and unashamed.  But then the city of Kansas City itself...oh. my. gosh.  Blue, Blue Everywhere. Flags, Banners, Shirts....and Pride.  Pride in not just our baseball team....but in our community...and maybe...just maybe...in ourselves.

I'm convinced that when Greg Holland got the 27th out of the ALCS that clenched the AL Pennant and sent this fanbase into hysterics this stopped being about baseball...and it became instead about community, unity, and the joy of watching hope turn into joy.   We didn't win the World Series...we came up 90 feet short.  But you know what? Who Cares?  We will remember this for as long as we live.  And if it's another 29 years until we get there again....we will relive all of those with a new generation.

Even as the temperatures drop and we put away our t-shirts and jerseys and replace them with ones declaring other allegiances in other sports, we will remember this October.  We will remember how we came together.  We will remember that belief is a powerful thing. And we will remember that we are forever Royals.

To the 2014 Kansas City Royals:  Thank you.

Baggage

So, We've been moving these past couple of weeks. We (my wife, son, and dog) packed up the life that we had created for ourselves in Pasadena and hauled it all to our new home in Oklahoma City.  This isn't the first time that either one of us have done this.  In college, the Fraternity I belonged to moved every single year that I was an active member.  But this particular move has proven to be harder than some of the past ones.  Perhaps it was because of the relationships that had been developed and the memories that had been made in SoCal, but at this particular moment I am fairly well convinced that the difficulty of this move boils down to one simple fact...we had (and continue to have) a lot of stuff.  I don't say that in a "heylookatuslookhowgreatwearewithallourstuff" kind of way, I say it in a "OHMYGAWDWHEREDIDALLTHISSTUFFCOMEFROM???" kind of way.  I mean seriously, we're young, our kid is young....where did it all come from?

We don't usually perceive stuff to be a problem.  Our society is built upon the premise of the more stuff we have the more "successful" and "happy" we certainly are.  Whether it be clothes, games, toys, tools, or whatever our particular pleasure might be, most of us like to have stuff. But there's a bitter irony to be found in the quest to accumulate higher quantities of (usually) more expensive stuff: We don't usually think about how much stuff we have until it's time to move it.  And that's when stuff turns into something else....baggage.
And please understand the distinction. Stuff exists to be played with, used, and admired.  Baggage exists to be carried, hauled, pushed, and pulled.  Whether it be across the country or across the airport, the more baggage we have the more difficult (and costly) our journey becomes.

And of course the truth of the matter is that we all have stuff that we have accumulated...both within our homes and within our spirits. This is a fundamental reality of the journey of life.  Our stuff, be it physical or metaphorical, represents our life, it is a tangible manifestation of our experiences...both positive and otherwise.  This is why it becomes so difficult to let go of our accumulated possessions.  Everything has an experience, a person, and a memory attached to it, and perhaps within the depths of our heart we are afraid that if we part with that possession...we part with that memory or perhaps even that person.  In the same way, we can struggle to break free from the stuff that accumulates within our hearts, minds, and spirits. Some of the stuff we carry we desperately want to be freed from, emotions like hurt, anger, grief, regret and longing are all natural millstones that we would love to have removed from our neck....but then there are other feelings and emotions that swirl around inside of us that we desperately want to hold on to, this stuff is usually associated with whatever period in our life (either personal or professional) that we classify as our "glory days."  Why would we ever want to let go of those memories, feelings, and the euphoria that comes from recounting the "good old days?"  For the same reason we have got to let go of those negative experiences that continue to haunt us...be it good or ill, these feelings and thoughts kind of meld together and stack on top of each other until there is this weight that has seemingly overnight turned into baggage that we are compelled to haul around as we move from place to place. And what this baggage does is prevent us from experiencing anything new.

Think about it, when we're busy hauling stuff around, how focused are we on our destination?  We're pretty determined aren't we?  It's rare that when we are overloaded with baggage we are content to take the time to browse the shops at the airport or to stop off at the tourist destinations along the highway.  We just want to get there (wherever "there" might be). Jesus said a little something about this reality.  When he met that rich young man (Luke 18) he told him that if he wanted to experience the Kingdom of God, he needed to let go of his stuff.  Why?  I think it's because that it is next to impossible to experience the new unless we are able to part with the old.  The "stuff," the possessions that man carried around represented his life...his "glory days," if you will.  But Jesus offered and continues to offer a different way...and a different glory...one that cannot be experienced until we are willing to no longer allow our possessions and our past to define us.

Just as this was true for that rich man...just as it is true for each and every one of us.  The same is true for the Church.  There perhaps is no other place on the face of the earth were stuff accumulates and becomes sacred faster than in the church.  Oh my goodness to our churches have a lot of stuff.  I remember the week where some folks in my congregation in Pasadena cleaned our our worship closets....took them a whole week, and there is still a lot there. My fellow youth ministers know how quickly stuff accumulates in a youth room.  Every time someone needs to get rid of a couch, the natural instinct is, "hey, let's give it to the youth."  And what do we do?  We graciously take it, and put it next to the 5 other circa 1984 couches that sit in that same room.

And just as physical stuff accumulates quickly...so does emotional stuff.  Our churches fondly remember the "glory days" and the "way we've always done it."  We talk to no end about former pastors or members that are long since gone. We remember that great VBS from years ago or the wonderful potluck dinner that was held once.  Each room within the church is filled with invisible stuff.  And you know what?  It's turned into baggage...and it's crippling us. We lug it from year to year, minister to minister and perhaps even building to building.  The baggage that our churches are carrying are preventing us from enjoying the journey and from experiencing anything new.  We have become that rich young man weeping in grief because we have "many possessions."  In the words of the song from the movie, Frozen, we have got to "let it go."

I am fairly well convinced that it is next to impossible to "Live in Love" until we can free ourselves from the burdens that have accumulated around us and within us.

What stuff are you holding on to? What baggage are you lugging from place to place?  Churches, what invisible stuff exists within your rooms and your DNA?  What do we need to let go of?  How can we seek to lighten to burdens of another?  How can we better share together in the journey of life?

"Come to me you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." ~Jesus of Nazareth



 

A Word of Thanks

The following is a final Word of Thanksgiving that comes from my heart and is extended to the people of Pasadena Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)

7/13/2014

Today will be the final time that I will have an opportunity to serve together with you as your pastor.  I grieve the thought that a parting of ways will soon occur but I also rejoice and give thanks for the opportunity that we have been given to share in church, life, and faith with one another.  It has been an incredible three years.  I am humbled by the trust you have put in me to allow me to share in the sacred moments of your lives and the lives of your loved ones.  I have been honored to be with you in moments of sickness, grief, anxiety, and uncertainty.  I have been blessed to share with you in your moments of joy and sheer exuberance.  The tears shed and the laughs shared have been sacred ones, and I will take those experiences with me as I go. 

Thank you for the grace and love that you have extended to and imparted on my family.  You have given Zachary his first glimpses of the Church and you are responsible for the joy he feels every time he hears the word, "church." I will be forever grateful for the lessons that you have taught my son.  Thank you for the love and encouragement that you have poured out to Debra as she has endeavored in ministry at her congregation.  We have been blessed to be able to walk alongside you, just as you have walked alongside us.  The bonds that have been forged will not easily be broken and the memories shared will not quickly fade away. 

May the Peace of God and the God of Peace be with you today, tomorrow, and forever. 

 

Time Out

There are a lot of changes that are coming to our family in the next few weeks.  We're moving, it is seems that everyone knows this by now, well, almost everyone.  It seems that our 2 year old son, Zach, still feels like he is somewhat in the dark about everything that is happening in his little (but rapidly expanding) world.  He knows about "Oklahoma," but that's really it. What he doesn't know is why the house continues to get more and more empty, or why toys that he would run to with excitement and regularity are now no longer in their usual places.  He does not know why big cardboard boxes keep appearing all over the house, and he does not really know what it means to have to say "goodbye" to his friends and his teachers at the amazingly wonderful school he has been in for almost his entire life.  Changes are coming...changes that he does not understand. 

If you were to spend no more than five minutes with Zach you would learn something rather quickly.  He likes to be in charge.  He's been like this his entire life.  He wants things done a particular way, on his terms, and on his time schedule.  It seems like just as soon as he could communicate he has had no qualms about letting his mother, myself, the dog, or anyone else know what he thinks, wants, and expects.  But now things are changing...things he cannot control.  So over the past week or so he has been diligently attempting to reassert some control over his surroundings.  To say that a different way, he has been attempting to assert some control over me.  This morning, for example, he told me in no uncertain terms that I needed to go to "Time Out."  When I asked why, he just repeated again, "Time Out!" When I walked away from him, chuckling a little bit to myself, I looked back and he said to me, "I need Time Out."  So I asked him, "Do you want to go to time out?" He said yes. 

While this time Zach chose to instead go back to eating his breakfast, this was not the first time Zach has actually asked to be put in "time out."  And I find myself wondering this afternoon, in the midst of the chaos and busyness of wrapping up things here in Pasadena and getting ready to make the move to Oklahoma, if Zach knows something that most of us forget.  Sometimes in the midst of the chaos and calamity of our surroundings and as the inevitable reality of change comes to our neat little world sometimes the best thing we can do for ourselves and really for every one else is to take a "time out." 

For me, this is a difficult proposition.  There's too much to do, there's not enough minutes in the day to afford the opportunity to take a few moments of quiet rest.  This is at least what I think most of the time.  But today, as I write this, I remember Jesus, who was a pretty busy guy himself.  I remember that Jesus knew a little something about taking "time out."  He demonstrated his knowledge of it's importance when he took 40 days in the Wilderness,or a time of solitary mourning after the news of his cousin John's death, and the night of prayer in the garden of Gethsemane. He put his faith and his knowledge of how God works into action by taking the time to go to a "solitary place" to rest, pray, and recover.

As usual, I learned something from my son today.  I think that "Time Out" should become a thing, for kids and adults alike.  How can we start to carve these moments into if not our everyday schedule, at least our weekly one?  How can we begin to provide for ourselves the opportunity of not a vacation, not a trip to the spa or the golf course or the gym, but just a few moments of silence, stillness, and peace?

My prayer for today is that we all might provide ourselves the opportunity to rest, pray, and recover. 

"Be Still and Know that I am God...." ~Psalm 46: 10

 

Day One

Today begins our final week here in Pasadena, California. Next Monday our moving trailer will get picked up and will transport our belongings to our new life.  As I sit here in a blessedly quiet office on this morning I am grateful for the opportunity to pause, reflect, and give thanks for the past three years that Debra, Zach, Amos, and I have gotten to spend here in L.A.

When we moved here we didn't really have any idea what we were getting ourselves into, Debra was pregnant with Zach, we were leaving our families, friends, and really our entire lives behind in order to follow a call.  We were scared, excited, and nervous about what the future would hold for the 2 (3) of us.  But in the midst of that scared, nervous excitement there was also this peace that existed within our hearts.  We truly felt that this is where God was calling us to live and to serve, and when God calls, you go.  Looking back, I am so thankful we followed God's leading. It has been an incredible three years here in California.  Our family has grown, our lives have been enriched, and our faith has grown stronger.  Debra and I both have had the opportunity to serve beautiful congregations and we will not soon forget the ministry that has been done here.

But now, it is on to a new chapter.  We are headed home! Well, a new home anyway, but back to the Midwest.  We are moving to Oklahoma City and I am so excited about the opportunity to get to serve in youth ministry once again. I initially perceived my call to serve to be in youth ministry and I have missed the opportunity to share in those crazy, unpredictable, God-sized moments that only youth group, mission trips, and camp can provide.  I am grateful to God for calling me back into this blessed task and I am grateful to my new congregation, First Christian Church-Midwest City, OK for entrusting me with this sacred call.

The coming transition is the cause for the genesis of this blog. The title, "Live in Love," reflects the hope that this will be a space to share how love evident and abundant in this messy, mixed up, yet altogether beautiful world. I do not consider myself a writer and it is humbling for me to have you read what will prove to be raw, unfiltered, random thoughts.  I do hope that this will prove to be safe space to share thoughts, ideas, reflections, and ministry moments. 

"Love one another, as I have loved you..." ~ Jesus of Nazareth