A Walk in the Woods

I know it's been a long time since my last post. Writer's block. Or a busy schedule, or low level of imagination.

Just finished a book by Bill Bryson, "A Walk in the Woods." The title is sure an understatement. Bryson and a buddy from Des Moines strike out on the Appalachian Trail, starting at the southern end and working north. Ill-prepared and ill-conditioned, their determination and sense of adventure carries them the first, oh, ten miles. The rest is a story of gritting one's teeth to get the job done. However, fabulous and funny experiences are had along the way.

Points to take from this reading - the wonder of nature and the age of the hills around us, the power of companionship when you realize that you need the other, the weird and unbalanced view Americans have of their own land. It is either completely altered for the sake of industry, or it's considered so holy that the only thing to do is let it become overgrown.

Bryson's a good writer. I believe he found purposefulness in the simple act of walking. Hmm. Makes me want to leave my car at home more often. One final note, the top of the front cover touts "runaway best seller." Shouldn't it say, "walk away best seller?"

nrn

"No reply needed."

You know how when you read an email, there's often a question, a tugging, whether you should reply to the message? Email threads can go on and on...

"Here's the draft of the letter I'm working on..."
"Got it. Here's my input..."
"Okay, here's the final draft..."

"Great."
"Okay."
"Bye then."
"Bye"

What if the simple signature of "nrn" were added somewhere in the email? That way when I send it, I'll assume that the other person got the email and I'll be telling them "no reply needed."

nrn

Fear-less-ness in Christ

First John 4:16-21 (Look it up in your own Bible!)

Fear-less-ness in Christ

A few of the phrases that have bounced around in the news and at the water-cooler lately are: “Panic,” “Selling Frenzy,” “Irrational”. This has to do mainly with the financial troubles that have so quickly developed in our country. Institutions that you would think are as reliable as sunshine suddenly disappear. Households are used to the idea of living “hand-to-mouth,” but corporations? Who would have thought? Add to that the uncertainty of what the next administration will introduce, throw in a natural disaster or two, and there is the tendency toward panic. Humans will reveal where their trust lies when their situation in life changes.

Is there a way to think about these realities as Christians, so that our faith helps us? I think so, but hey, I’m a pastor. Of course I would think so. But most of you are baptized members of the body of Christ, so you probably agree that your faith has something to say.

One of my favorite parts of the New Testament says “there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” I tend to think of this little verse many times. Fear has a way of lengthening hesitation, shortening breaths, and hastening anxiety. As I watch my little retirement account get little (much littler!) all of these things start to happen. But what about my faith? Where does it fit into the big picture?

In Christ, as a Christian, the world's final things have less finality. In fact there’s a degree of acceptance or even thanks when finality really comes home, whether it’s in our favor or not. In our faith, we hear about another finality that happens in Christ, and then surprisingly a new beginning in his resurrection, which is free from the bonds that drive us to be fearful. In the resurrected Christ, there is no fear because all the threats have been left behind. Even death.

So I think the perspective that my faith provides helps me to listen and approach these problems with a more level head, not because I’m smarter, but because (to use an investing term) my eggs are in a different basket.

Block-Busted

How do you like this gray store-front? Holy smokes, it didn't take long for it to become an even greater eyesore than while it was in business. Blockbuster. Rows and rows of movies except miraculously that one title idea that sent you to that store in the first place. Blockbuster "east" had already closed down about 4 months ago. Now the second one in town has bitten the dust.

I suppose I could have asked around as to the reason these two stores closed so suddenly. Maybe the owner had family problems, or financial problems (which are still family problems). It would have been more responsible to find the real reason for the closures, but it is more delightful to do a little imagining.

I think it was a local swarm of little red boxes. They're video rental vending machines. Surprise surprise, they are called Redbox. Within a one mile radius, there are three of these little devils. Not as much in terms of selection, but hey, you can reserve titles online, select your neighborhood Redbox, go on a quick errand to pick it up. It reminds me of when I played high school football. The kids that could always tackle me were the short ones who cut me down at the knees. Or do you remember the movie "Bugs' Life"? The grasshoppers grow to fear the ants not because one ant is as big as the grasshopper, but because there are hundreds of ants for every one hopper. Behold the power of little red boxes. Don't feel bad, Blockbuster, it's just business.

Just Ask

In the congregation I serve, from one point of view there is just barely "critical mass." What I mean is that there seems to be a small number of those who are interested in having leadership for an event or a committee. Could be that's what goes on in most worshiping communities. A relatively small number of folk are more vocal, and so they are seen as the most willing individuals. That's how the pastor might tend to interpret the phenomenon.

But what was it that brought those people to that point within the community? I suppose it was a simple "ask" that someone made at some point, perhaps even several years ago. Pretty soon that one person, whether they consider it a gift of theirs or not, finds him or herself in a position of leadership. The community has made an assumption. This is done so the emotional system can efficiently move through the months and years without much thoughtfulness or purposefulness. The togetherness force is powerful. Ultimately the togetherness force (if unchecked) allows people to be non-individual, which implies that those non-individuals are also non-responsible. After a few times around the block, the non-individual is struggling with a sense of emptiness or even frustration. This can be translated in spiritual terms as well.

Just ask. I was contacted by a member of the community who is directing a community thanksgiving meal again this year. A great ministry. This will be the third annual meal for anyone who wants to come. All the food is donated, and there are more volunteers than the facility will hold. It's ecumenical; each church has responsibility for certain parts of the meal. We have sweet potatoes.

There are two gals at church who are usually first to do the organizing of our congregation around this ministry, but they both have other things to do with family, health-related. So I started looking down a list of church members, and as my finger traveled south on the paper, I came across a few possibilities, and then one who I thought would be just right for this job, of coordinating the sweet potatoes. She called back the next day and said, "I think I can do that. I'll make a few calls."

Just ask. This is encouraging, not because I was smart to think of her. Not either because I didn't have to do the organizing. But because there is a new leader, even for a moment, one who will define her temporary task in her own way.

Sometimes individuals like being asked. In their response, at least from the perspective of the church, they move from non-individual and non-responsible to individual and responsible.

How has God surprised you today?

Tonight at supper, I started a conversation by saying, "Do you want to know how God surprised me today?" The kids said yes, and so I told them about an interaction that I had with one of Emily's friends, and I came away thinking that I'm glad I'm a pastor.

Natalee volunteered next. She said that God surprised her by helping her through a stomach-ache at school.

The family was really starting to get into this little summary of our day. Emily went next, and said that God surprised her when her friend let her play with a special stuffed animal.

Dawn was last to share, saying that God surprised her when an old friend gave her a phone call during the day, to catch up with her.

What good conversation! Involving God's surprises was a really fun way to talk about our day.

If you decide you want to start this in your home, I would suggest starting with yourself. "Do you want to hear how God surprised me today?" That's all you need to get started involving your relationship with God with the way your family knows you.

Swisher Sweets and Wet Feets

When I was in Galveston this July, I was there by myself. I had borrowed a vehicle from my host home (I live in Eastern Oregon), and wanted to see new sights and eat seafood. Red Snapper, blackened, was the way to go at “Fisherman’s Wharf.” This restaurant was one block away from “The Strand,” which included a row of majestic old buildings that had survived “The Big One,” the hurricane of 1900. As I walked up and down that old street I wondered what it would have been like to be in Galveston around the time of the close of the Civil War, to witness the planting of the seeds of growth, and to get a sense of the optimism that people had about heading north and west, for opportunity and a better way of life.

Further inland from The Strand is a building that I thought was a stone castle. No doubt this Palace survived Hurricane Ike. As I parked to get a closer look, I realized that it had been, or is, the residence of the Catholic Bishop of the Galveston-Houston Archdiocese. It’s an impressive sight. The stonework was amazing, and the gate was intimidating. It was after-hours, so I wasn’t able to go inside for a tour.

That night in Galveston was important for me. I thought to myself, “how am I distinct from the pastors I’ve met, from those who might occupy the palace, from my good friends in the Lutheran as well as other traditions?” As the sun was beginning to set, I had made my way to the beach after stopping at a gas station for a few cheap cigars. I had decided that the way to finish my sabbatical was to smoke a cigar barefoot while standing in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico, the “Third Coast” according to the locals. Most all of that experience was a “new thing” for me. 1) Being alone, 2) smoking anything, 3) being in the warm waters of the Gulf Coast. It might sound a little corny, but standing there with the churning waters (Hurricane Dolly had just landed many hours south near Corpus) and having the mainland behind me was in a sense a prayer. I found myself using my surroundings and my place in them as a prayer to God.

“God, what do you have planned for me? Where are things heading? What’s my horizon? What about St. Paul Lutheran Church? What’s the next thing, and how are you speaking to them and to me, now?” Mixed with prayers of thanks for a crazy and renewing sabbatical, this was how that sunset was for me. I was thankful that I was there, and that I was nearing the end of my time away, and that I was soon going to be disarming the church’s security system on my first day back to the office. I was ready to be involved in this ministry once more.

Here are a few principles that I’ve come up with through these three months. I think they have to do with pastoral identity, with ongoing discernment of what “sabbath” may mean in today’s world, and I think they have to do with an ongoing exploration into the mystery of God who is known to us in Christ Jesus.

1. There is no “planning” to be renewed. But there is “expecting” to be renewed.
2. Christ’s ministry takes on many forms throughout the body of Christ (the Church) and the world.
3. Setbacks are an opportunity for me to release myself into the care of God and others.
4. New ideas come from all over the place.
5. There can be affirmation of one’s own identity when anonymous.
6. It takes a lifetime to figure out oneself.
7. Children love their parents.
8. Anxiety is overrated.
9. There is something special in the office of “pastor”.
10. Authority can be exercised with love and care.

There's a verse from an old hymn written by Horatio Spafford,

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

I suppose for the time being, that's a good way to describe whatever it is in me that wants to be articulated as I remember sabbatical and continue in ministry.

table fellowship

"Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me." (Revelation 3:20)

Table Fellowship
I don’t remember very many sermons. Truth be told, I am a terrible listener-of-sermons. Yet I do remember this one. It was preached at my college, Trinity Lutheran College, by Jim Bergquist, the college president at that time.
He spoke of a conflict that had happened in his congregation, or among pastors and other church leaders, and how distressing it was for him. He wanted to get a little distance from the situation, for the sake of a better perspective. In order to do this, he went to his wood shop, so he could make a little sawdust and think about what was going on with this controversy, and what his role should be in it.
As he was working with wood, the thought came to him, that because we are reconciled in Christ, the walls of separation are now our tables of fellowship. In Christ, the wall has been taken down and is now used for a table. The next day he shared his thoughts with the group that was in conflict. I wish I could say that his message resolved the whole conflict, but honestly I don’t remember “the rest of the story.”
The image surely has stuck with me. Walls of separation being used for tables of fellowship. Last Sunday, I was able to help in the blessing of Peter Lawson’s home. There were around 25 of us at his small house, squeezing into each room like apple slices in a pie. What a joy it was to bring God’s Word and prayer, and fellowship, to Peter’s home. I saw the gladness in Peter’s face.
When we got to the dining room, I looked down and noticed the table. I thought to myself, this table looks so much like our old one! Could it be the table that we sold at a yard sale six years ago is showing up in Peter’s dining room? What are the chances?
Dawn and I received the table as a gift from a person we knew in Washington state. He was an insurance agent. He decided it was too small for his growing family. It was our first table. It moved with us from Washington to Minnesota. We used it for the first two years, in our seminary apartment. For one year while I was on internship, we loaned it to a friend who was in the doctorate program at Luther Seminary. After internship, we had to pry the table out of her hands because she loved it so much. It moved with us here to Eastern Oregon. After a few years, we decided the shape wasn’t quite right, and so we sold it through a yard sale.
Now it re-appeared. Peter’s very close friends (practically adoptive parents) the Kirby’s had bought this table at a used furniture store nearby, had used it as a sewing table for a while, and then decided to give it to Peter for Christmas one year. The Kirby’s were at the home blessing too, and told the story of the table from the time it had belonged to them.
So this square table has in a sense come full circle. From my perspective, I was honored to be the pastor at this home blessing, doing what God and the people of St. Paul had called me to do. The table had been part of our furniture at the beginning of my journey toward ministry. Now it has passed on to another person, and this is good.

Hmmm

The Gospel is like the flight of a hummingbird. Many directions, hard to track, stands still only for a moment, long enough for you to wish time would stand still, and then zip! You begin to seek after what you were just witnessing, to want it again. The Gospel of Christ has this kind of characteristic.

One Water Story

Our Gospel passage for this Sunday Aug 10 has Peter trying out a Jesus-thing; he takes a few steps on turbulent water, toward his Lord. He quite literally gets in over his head. (What's the history of that phrase?) I've been thinking this week about my interactions with water.

When I was probably heading into my sophomore year of high school, it was summer, and a friend of mine named Bob invited me to join him and his church youth on camp-out at Strawberry Lake MN. His family was and still is, Roman Catholic with a French heritage. Just thought I'd throw that in for the sake of detail, nothing else.

This story has to do with my eyeglasses. I had convinced my parents (took more doing that perhaps it should have) that I needed to see the eye doctor, and so when I was in 7th grade I had new glasses. It sure helped. I remember looking up at the lights in a Walgreens and marveling at the detail. I could see down the entire aisle! Man, what had I been missing?

So by the time I was in high school I was wearing specs. I of course had them along on this camping trip too. Bob and I decided one afternoon that we wanted to take a canoe out, and while we were paddling away, things of course got a little out of hand. We wanted to see how wobbly we could make the canoe and still not swamp it.

Before long we had gone past that threshold and we were fling through the air (it seemed) into the lake. Our life vests gave us a boost and minus the embarrassment we were no worse for the wear. It was going to be complicated to get back into the canoe, or back to shore, but we were up to it.

Except now my glasses weren't on my face anymore. They were nowhere. Imagine the thoughts that run through a teenager's head at this point, mostly having to do with one's parents. OMG what are my parents going to say? I was very worried and was beginning to think that I was going to have to tell my parents the awful news: I have lost my glasses at the bottom of a lake.

And then, something tickled or rested for a moment on the top of my right foot. I was dangling there, suspended in the water, and I thought could this be my glasses? With my other foot I trapped them and slowly brought them up, leaning down to reach them with my hand. Sure enough, my glasses, on their descent, had by chance landed on my foot. What are the odds? I guess in some things and at some times, I am lucky.

I can't remember if I even told mom and dad about that near loss.

Back into the Swing of things

I give thanks to God for this time that I was able to have, of renewal, of reconnecting with family, of learning. Yesterday was my first Sunday back. The congregation had a cake for me which read, "Welcome back Paster James." Only a few people noticed the typo. This was a fun time of reconnecting with the people who have called me to be their pastor. Now comes the interesting and exciting challenge of seeing how things could be approached from a different perspective.

Good times reconnecting with people in the congregation. Now it's time to be back into the swing of things. I'm in the back and forth rhythms now (sorta like a pendulum), and am seeking to function better out of my sense of call to the ministry of Word and Sacrament.

This is a quick little note to say I've enjoyed my sabbatical and will think of experiences of that time, far into the future.

Houston-bound

I've arrived in Houston for part three of a three part course on Bowen Theory, aka Family Systems Theory. This is one of the final events of my sabbatical. (That was sure strange to write, as this time has gone so fast.)

According to something I read, Houston is the third largest city in the U.S., behind New York and Los Angeles. Who would've thunk? This is a very busy city, and even those who live in the suburbs are zipping from one place to the next. The people who are hosting me here are so generous. They are part of University Baptist Church, and they have become new friends to me. I would love to have them up to my neck of the woods sometime.

I'm reminiscing a bit now about the sabbatical. There were a few events that changed the trajectory and made it difficult to focus on what I wanted to, but the hidden gift was a strong reconnection with my own family and times of quiet for renewal. I had an epiphany the other day about renewal. It was a primary goal of my sabbatical (Renewal, Research, Reflection). The epiphany is that I can't say to myself "tomorrow I will be renewed." That is just a new law. Rather, I found out that a space for renewal needed to be given, with the hope that renewal will come about by the Spirit of God in Christ, and according to a timeframe and growth rate that that I was not in control over. It has been God's time to deal with me, to nurture a seed that had been planted long ago, to build up faith and the language of faith in me.

I'm heading back toward home on Thursday, and then it will be time to get ready for going back into ministry with this congregation called St. Paul.

Wallowa Preachers' Workshop

I've come home now from a time of community and learning at Wallowa Lake OR. My friend JJ Dygert and I brought a good friend from Des Moines Iowa to help us in remembering the task and opportunity of preaching. One other pastor, and a seminarian soon entering the call process, joined us to make a small group. We had a lot of conversation about our call, our role in the church as those who proclaim the Gospel publicly, and we each looked at scripture passages for the upcoming weeks.

It was such a great time of fellowship with families as well. We rode the tram at the lake. We did bumper boats, the kids played mini-golf, and we poked around the shops of Joseph for a while on the last day.

From Wallowa we went to Milton-Freewater to be with Pastor Dygert and family. Our friend Ken Jones, the teacher for the week, preached to us about the Sower and the Seeds (it's not so easy assuming we're "good seeds" is it?), and I saw him off this morning as he flies back home to be with his family.

I thank God for long-distance connections where we remember that we have remained close. Close in the Spirit of Christ. Christ draws us together and speaks through us to those who need a freeing and redeeming Word. That's what this week was all about.

Honeycombs

What are the honeycombs? I hadn't known about them until this summer. To get there, you can drive through Succor Creek campground south of Adrian, and then up those rolling hills and past Three Finger Butte. Then just park and hike in the general direction of Owyhee Reservoir.

It's not quite so random as that. We had a GPS unit with us. It was a day hike and I enjoyed myself thoroughly, minus the overheating I experienced. That was an embarrassment.

The "Honeycombs." They earned their name, sharing the same color and being pocked with the results of erosion. At a distance, we saw Dry Creek on the reservoir, with its cabins. A peaceful, stark scene.

We saw the creek below us, but had a hard time figuring out how to get down from these heights. Deserves a return trip. Crazily enough, we saw the remains of an old corral way up there, wedged between the rocks. it was an amazing sight, and I wondered who would have the strength and patience to get materials into that remote place.

There were wild horses and a few other critters, and many songbirds. Also there were wildflowers that were unfamiliar to me. Day hike require a bit of planning, but much less than hiking trips. They are a great way to get out and enjoy this wonder that we humans call "creation."

One Christian's Story

There's a retired pastor who lives in the Boise area. He spent many years on the African continent in missions. He's a man who's very curious, and the other day he asked if I knew a book that would help him learn about the religious culture of the Pacific Northwest. So I recommended this title. I'm just now finishing reading it. I give it four out of five stars. A pretty good read.

The author Don Miller lives in Portland Oregon and tells a rambling and honest story about (using language familiar in Lutheran circles) "living into" the Christian faith. The subtitle, "nonreligious thoughts on Christian spirituality" is a great way to begin describing the book. His story is told autobiographically, and he twists and turns around corners of doubt and poignant courage in speaking from his heart of faith.

It's a good book for those who want to have some of their own questions articulated (we all have these questions, or variations on those themes), and for those who want to learn more about the religious culture, or climate, of the Northwest. I have a lot to learn! As I finished this book tonight, I asked myself, "what would my story sound like?" A good reflective exercise for anyone.

Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe

While in the LA area, we took a day to visit the Getty Center. What a beautiful place, a beautiful view, there's an atmosphere of wonder there, and curiosity.

On display were many paintings, illuminated manuscripts and altar pieces representing Christ. From what I could tell the collection was exclusively European and because of the age of the pieces, mostly Roman Catholic.

I didn't participate in one of the learning tours, but my path intersected theirs a few times. The docent's approach surprised me, as well as the kinds of questions that came from the touring group.

What were the surprises? The questions asked by the group were so elementary. "The Holy Family fled to Egypt after Jesus' birth, didn't they?" The docent's response was equally foggy. "Yes, that's right. And they were fleeing from . . . Nazareth, I think."

I decided that instead of trying to be a know-it-all and setting the story straight (and then feeling like I'd scored for Jesus), I wanted to quietly continue my random route through the galleries, listening as I went.

But a thought hit me. The story of Christ, for so many, is a thing of cultural curiosity. His story is one among so many others. The devotion of the artists and the religious culture of that time are not at all disputed, in fact they are honored. The audience was awed by the artistic achievements of the past. Yet I thought to myself, why not partner with a Catholic professor in the LA area, one who is steeped in the tradition and story? Couldn't someone from the inside do a better job describing the details of the paintings and the culture?

Then another thought. My faith is one of cultural curiosity. The people are making their way through an "Olde Curiosity Shoppe," picking up the Christian faith as if it were a spoon rest with a price tag stuck to its bottom, examining it, and then setting it down. Wow. The core of my personal identity and the purpose of my vocation are met with some level of indifference. Brings about a change of perspective!

summer read for the Lincoln enthusiast

J. Wilkes Booth is infamous for becoming the first assassin of an American President in history. This is the story of the crime and the chase that followed. Swanson weaves a suspense-filled historical account of those days. How surprising it was to read about, for example, the day of the crime, the joy that had filled Washington at the news that the end of the civil war was a foregone conclusion. Lincoln was celebrated by the people, his own spirits lifted, and then comes the famous actor Booth, who is loyal to the cause of the south.

I hadn't realized until seeing this book, that William Seward was also attacked that night and barely survived. He lived many years after, and his leadership secured the purchase of Alaska from Russia. The city of Seward Alaska is named after this interesting man. He was a member of the Lincoln cabinet as Sec. of State. Before Lincoln was elected, Seward was his opponent which is another remarkable story, told very well by Doris Kearns-Goodwin in "Team of Rivals."

We're in the midst of summer, but if you'd like to read about some of the most remarkable moments of American history, this would be a great book for you.

Daddy?

We just observed Fathers' Day on Sunday. My family and I worshiped with friends at Payette Church of the Nazarene. I had the opportunity to sit with my girls during worship, up to the point where they went to children's church. Natalee was cold, so I put my arm around her. What a great experience that was, one that is rare for me as their father, since most Sundays I'm standing in front of the congregation. Once in a while at St. Paul, I notice my wife struggling a bit to keep the girls' interest.

Yesterday was the beginning of Vacation Bible School. As she was getting ready to leave, Emily said "Daddy, when are you going to come to Sunday School again?" At that moment a new perspective hit me over the head.

Changing my pattern (work, or home, vacation, etc) influences the relationships we have with individuals around us. The benefit is the opportunity to have moments like this, where the value of these relationships is recognized and appreciated. The "downside" would be that there is no way to predict how these changes would affect those individuals. The human being is a thing of change, if it's living. After even a short period of time, change comes, not necessarily with plan or purpose. This change in my pattern has been a little much for little Emily. She wants to get back to the regular pattern.

Last week, Emily and I went on a date. We went to Nampa and visited the Pet store, saw a movie (Horton Hears a Who), and went to Carl's Jr. because they have a great play area. We returned home after a great day of, according to Emily, "Two Time."

Short Schrift

So I realized that I have a bunch of NW Airline frequent flier miles. Through an email I received it looks like I can redeem these miles for magazines. Looking through a list of magazines I decided on Time, Newsweek, and The Atlantic. Among those, the mag with the longest articles is Atlantic. They seem to choose fewer subjects but they let them go more "in depth."

Ironically, the article that I noticed this time was one about reading ("Is Google Making Us Stoopid?"). The point of the article is that in our internet generation, our attention span for text is getting less and less. The short text involved in headlines and emails is creating a new way of reading. The irony is, this article about shorter articles goes on and on!

So, if you were able to stick with me to the end of this email, note that this article points out that the human brain is amazingly malleable, that new pathways are made very quickly, even in adulthood. I think this is so interesting.

Anaheim

On our way home from California, we're at a motel in Minden NV and will be home tomorrow. We had a great time of renewal and family fun in Disneyland and Sea World. We spent a few nights at the home of Bill and Sonja Speer, people we befriended when they came to their first Mission Builder project at St. Paul in Ontario. Now Bill is the project manager of a new-build in Duluth MN. Unfortunate for us, Bill and Sonja were in Duluth the whole time we were in their home. So we had a "home away from home" for a few days.

If you're ever at Disneyland, try the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad after dark. We have lots of other advice for you, should you so desire! A lot of great entertainment, good food (pricey!) and friendly people.

Sea World is a blast. The whale show and the dolphin show are awesome. They give a person a few moments to pause and wonder about the rich diversity of this creation. Way to go, God.

Looking forward to home and a different pace.

A Crimp in My Schedule

Not sure if it was the clear, cool mountain air, the sudden change of schedule, or my cooking, but when I got home from McCall last week my leg and lower back were a MESS. I had come home on Saturday, struggled a bit on Sunday worshiping with a congregation in Boise, and by Monday I was in a pretty bad mood.

Decided finally to get myself to a chiropractor. Tuesday was the beginning of the next stage of my sabbatical, which meant quite literally being on my back, icing and moving about very gingerly. I saw the chiropractor Tuesday, and Wednesday, and Thursday, and Friday, and when he was through with me on that day, said "I'll see you Monday." I'll visit him three times this week as I slowly get myself back (no pun intended) among the living.

This kind of pain is different from low back discomfort. It's deeper. The aches are different, and if you're not part of the club, (if you haven't experienced this yourself) you'll just have to take my word for it, that it's not a fun time. At all.

So I spent all of last week reclining, holding a novel (The River Why) above my face, and I finished it in record time (I'm a slow reader) I'm sure partly because the words just fell off the pages and into my head by sheer force of gravity.

I'm ready for this to be behind me (again, no pun intended) so I can do other stuff with this time. Theologically speaking, perhaps Christ needed to start his time with me by giving me an adjustment. Fitting. Now I'm ready to step, even gingerly, toward the next thing. Hopefully the ground will be level.

A Pastoral Connection - FINALLY

My route to McCall took me along the Oregon Slope to Weiser Idaho. As I drove I remembered that I had been to the cemetery that you drive by after turning toward Annex and Weiser. There was a family that I was with, at a graveside service, but for some reason I couldn't remember who had died and which family was involved. In fact this had bothered me for quite awhile because I had stopped at this cemetery before, wondering who had invited me to be with them there for prayer and scripture.

I'm usually pretty good at remembering, but for some reason the pieces were just not fitting together. So this time, I had already driven past the cemetery, but decided to turn around.

I was so glad I did. When I got to the cemetery, there was a very new-looking gravestone. It was for Bob Davis, and when I saw it, everything rushed back to me. Vera, Cheryl and the rest of the family, my apologies for "blanking out" about this very important place for you and your family. When I was there, I thanked God for the Davis and Reever families, and I thanked God for the memory of Bob Davis.

I've been hoping that my sabbatical would be a time for God to re-connect with me in areas where my faith, imagination and energy have perhaps slipped away. What I'm realizing is that God doesn't ask me to work harder, rather, I think God is asking me to be more attentive to the ways Christ is already at work in my life and in the lives of those around me. Listen. Watch. Feel. The Spirit of Christ is at work in this world. We are witnesses to this mighty and gentle God.

I have a sabbatical hat

When Dawn and I went on a special trip for our 10th wedding anniversary (a cruise to Mexico), I bought a hat. I found it at the docks in Acapulco. It sold a few weeks ago at our yard sale because I decided it didn't fit so well, in fact it gave me a headache.

When Dawn and I were guests of the Mission Builders in Carefree Arizona, we poked around Scottsdale ("Old Scottsdale", which is a fun touristy place), I bought a hat. I'm afraid that I'll soon have to get a storage bin for all my doggone hats.

As I pulled into McCall I stopped at the grocery store for some milk. You guessed it, they had hats! I thought to myself that I really "need" a sabbatical hat, so for $10 I got a real deal. What a great way to mark my time of renewal.

Ponderosa Pine cone Potential

I walked along the cart paths at the McCall Golf Course late last week. Along the way I found an awesome Ponderosa pine cone. I realized, that while walking I wanted to be holding something, so the pine cone was it.

Tuning into the wildlife, listening to the water flowing under the snow, holding that pine cone, the thought struck me. This looks so much like a grenade. I've held a blank grenade before, can't remember when, but the shape and design were so similar from my point of view. Exponentially heavier, but similar nonetheless.

Then I thought about the divergent purposes of each of those, the grenade explodes suddenly, designed for destruction. Noisy. Depending on the situation, its purpose is death. The pine cone doesn't explode per se, its shrapnel simply falls off and is buried.

There's a verse in scripture that says something about death being but for a moment, but life eternal.

Think of the potential of the quiet pine cone. What if only one of those shrapnel, buried, springs to new life. And what if over time, that new Ponderosa drops 10,000 grenades, rolling, floating, blown about by the high mountain winds. And what if only one of the shrapnel from each of those 10,000 cones springs to new life, suddenly from one seed there is 100,000 relatively young Ponderosa Pines.

I'm no botanist, but the point I'm considering is this: death is but for a moment, but life eternal. I thank God that the power of the grenade is nothing compared to the power of the pine cone.

Recreational Reading

Oh man, if you're interested in summer reading, pick up this. David James Duncan, The River Why. Fishing is the context, searching for meaning the theme. The writing is excellent. It's a great way to unplug for a time. I read this book about 10 years ago and have wanted to get back to it for a long time.

On to McCall

This is the first day of my three month sabbatical leave. For a long time, I've wondered how a time away like this would be. I know others who have had sabbaticals, both clergy and academic, and I've seen renewal in them. How it "looks" for each of those individuals is different.

I will miss: the relationships I have with the people of St. Paul, leading worship, preaching, and being involved in the community as the pastor of St. Paul. The Tuesday morning text study group, being involved with our kids.

I will enjoy: Time to myself to structure however I'm led, worshiping with other congregations, long drives and our family trip.

More to come! I'm heading to McCall Idaho this morning. My car is loaded up with books. I think I'll bring my guitar. After hugs and kisses from my daughters and wife, I'm ready to "unplug" and spend a few days in personal retreat.

"Prairie Land"

My father's property includes this little patch of ground, affectionately called the "prairie land" by the family. Probably one-third of it is virgin prairie, which by definition means that the ground has never been broken, never been tilled for crops. The longer I live (I'm 36 now), the more strongly I believe that this is a treasure for me and for my family.

I think the trees on that property are birch, and others I do not know. There are native grasses, and there are a few animals that frequent the place.

Inner Journey

I think the liturgical season of Lent, which begins with Ash Wednesday, is one that bears spiritual fruit for individuals and communities. Except, that the fruit comes much later, and perhaps not so much in the midst of the season itself. Take this image for example. The artist is Karen Eckmeier, of "Quilted Lizard" (linked to the title of this entry).

The piece lacks vegatation, really any sign of organic growth. The colors signify to me a dry place. But there is motion, which the title affirms. There is a path, a journey, which is the metaphor I often use when describing this season to people in my congregation. Yesterday I decided to count the stones in the path. Low and behold, there are forty stones if I got it right. The Lenten journey is forty days.

Salute Jamtland

Grandpa came from Sweden. His childhood was spent in the territory called Jamtland, which is a place of curiosity. I would like to some day visit that area. From what I've heard and read, Jamtland was a particular part of Scandinavia which had been in dispute. For a time, both Norway and Sweden claimed Jamtland. The residents still hold an independence parade, rather in jest, but it still makes a point. What an interesting history. Grandpa died before he could tell me any stories about his childhood. Yet, I have a copy of his stories from early in life, which he dictated to his wife Lucille. The stories are in her handwriting. What a treasure.

By the way, I was in McCall Idaho a few weeks ago, and met a Swedish family. They had just moved to Idaho from Sweden and were looking for a new opportunity, and so decided Idaho was the place! I told them where my grandfather was born, and one of the family members said, "Oh they're crazy up there."

Speaking of Faith

From my perspective, radio will never go out of style. There is so much pleasure and benefit from this medium. One can think casually about what is being heard, while watching and thinking about another thing (like blogging, wood carving, and cooking).

This program is called "Speaking of Faith." It has a gentle and deep way of speaking about ideas, faith experience, and mystery. I've been fed by the program regularly. I'm a pastor, and I've become much more aware over the years of my need to participate in sabbath, be a listener, confess my sin, be held by the Spirit of Christ and the community of faith. Yes, I am one who "feeds" others to the best of my ability (the Spirit of Christ is really the actor here), but the human reality of who I am is also a factor. My energy is not boundless. I am not resolute. I am a broken person speaking with broken speech to broken people.

I encourage you to check out this radio program. I just download it to my iTunes. It's a free podcast. High quality and thoughtful. We could use as much thoughtfulness as possible.

Exploitative Economy v. Local Economy

Reading out of my first Wendell Berry book, "The Art of the Commonplace." It's a collection of essays on various topics, but is quite "hard hitting" when he comments about the dominant culture of this modern nation and other "developed" countries. The basic assessment is that through creative energy, those in power have utilized inventions that provide convenience, to exploit people they consider "below" themselves in status. Modern conveniences have separated those who rely on them from the earth, which had for thousands of years proven to be enough sustenance for individuals and their households. Now over-consumption has begun to threaten the existence of earth herself, if not at least humanity. This man marvels at raw creation (nature) and is repulsed over machines and an economy in which we have persuaded ourselves that these modern conveniences are "necessary."

Raise Your Spirit Higher

"Wenyukela" (Raise Your Spirit Higher), Ladysmith Black Mambazo

I have this album, and this is the title track.  Most of these tracks are great, even the out-of-left-field "Fak' Ibhande" (Don't Drink and Drive): "Brothers and sisters, don't drink and drive... we still need you..."

Most of the tracks are Christian spirituality.  And perhaps it's with this commonality (I'm a Lutheran pastor) that I find joy and kinship with this S. African a cappella group.  I think they have mature relationship with the earth.  What I mean by "earth" is land, even soil.

Jim Wallis, of the commentary magazine and ministry Sojourners, has recently said what has come to be obvious to me (once he said it), that American Christians have more in common with Christians from around the world than we likely have with our next door neighbor.  In this world crisis of fearfulness and bloodshed, non-geographic communities are showing distinction.

Is this a faith-response to the fundamentalist cells we know exist in all corners of the world?  Are there "peace cells?"

hi family

i'm curious about family members from my grandmother's generation. i've not kept up good contact with most of my dad's cousins, and so I decided finally, at the age of 36, that I would start writing letters. tonight i wrote to Elaine and to Arlyne. I asked them to tell me something about their parents. the link associated with this posting shows many family members and their relation to one another. much of the information has been concealed for those who are still living.