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.