Scribble Scribble Scribble

Here is my newsletter article for our January newsletter. Hope you enjoy! Credit is here given to Walter Brueggemann for his poem, "Re-text Us"

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me” (from Psalm 51)


Dear St. Paul,

Someone close to me says like clockwork every January, “Maybe this will be my year.” We’re turning another corner! Flipping open that fresh new “Lighthouses of the Oregon Coast” calendar that we got from a friend at work. It’s time to re-learn how to date our checks (for those of us who haven’t migrated to online bill-pay yet).

Yes, it’s a new year. The little optimist in me wants so desperately to look forward to new opportunities, new hills to climb, new challenges to overcome, new friends to make. But the big pessimist in me (can I call him a “realist?”) is making a mental list of the not-so-grand accomplishments, the times when I was lackluster as a person of faith, when I thought I didn’t say the right thing, or when I said too much. The failings of the last year, in my own life and in the many lives of our world are weighing heavy. So, by the end of 2009 there seems to be a great collective sigh that has barely enough oomph to say, “good riddance.” How’s that for good news from your pastor? Yuck.

I keep recollecting a little poem that Walter Brueggemann wrote. I’ll include it here. Let me know if you think it’s a good word for the New Year. I think it is, because it calls me out of myself, toward God, and then back to myself, all new, re-created by the Spirit of Christ. What better way to start a New Year?

Re-text us

We confess you to be text-maker,
Text-giver,
Text-worker,
And we find ourselves addressed by your
Making,
Giving,
Working.
So now we bid you, re-text us by your spirit.
Re-text us away from our shallow loves,
Into your overwhelming gracefulness.
Re-text us away from our thin angers,
Into your truth-telling freedom.
Re-text us away from our lean hopes,
Into your tidal promises.
Give us attentive ears,
Responsive hearts,
Receiving hands;
Re-text us to be your liberated partners
In joy and obedience,
In risk and gratitude.
Re-text us by your word become wind. Amen.

Living in hope (because I have to!), Pastor James Aalgaard

Sermon for Dec 6, 2009

Luke 3:1-6

“Every valley shall be filled, every mountain and hill shall be made low, the crooked shall be made straight, the rough ways made smooth, and all flesh will see the salvation of God.”

There’s a lake in California called Lake Manly. There isn’t much fishing happening there. It’s not very often that there are any water sports going on there either. No one has a cabin there. It’s a quiet place. Lake Manly is somewhat off the beaten path.

Lake Manly is at one of the lowest parts of the lowest, driest valley in North America. It’s in Death Valley! Almost 100% of the time it’s a lake without water.

But every once in a while, something amazing happens in that driest of places. Rainstorms can come through and dump so much moisture that Lake Manly begins to appear once again. It seems to me it would be kind of a ghostly thing, to just see this prehistoric lake begin to take shape where before, it had been just cracked earth.

This is what happened to Death Valley in August of 2004. The amount of rainfall for that area was just incredible. In fact, roads were washed out by the floodwaters, and rivers and streams appeared, all of a sudden. People described it as a hundered-year flood.

I suppose that’s a good enough story by itself. It shows the power that something like water has, especially in the desert. It’s no small thing for Lake Manly to suddenly appear. In no time at all the lake is about two feet deep and one hundred square miles.

There are people who wait for this strange thing to happen so they can zip on over to Death Valley with a kayak on top of their cars. That way they can get a shoulder patch that says, “I kayaked Death Valley.” I guess it’s a highly coveted prize.

But the best part of this story is what happened the next spring. For those who were able to get there in the spring, despite the collapsed roads, there was a reward that was unlike anything they had ever seen.

All that moisture had released the energy that had been dormant in thousands and thousands of wildflower seeds. Names like: Yellow Desert Gold. Desert five-spot. Desert Lupin. Those seeds had waited and waited for such an opportunity as this, as if they had been going through their own season of Advent, and when the conditions were just right, with temperature, moisture and sunlight, there was another flood in Death Valley. But This time it was a flood of life!

It was a modern interpretation of those ancient verses from scripture. Every valley shall be filled. And, the rough ways shall be made smooth. Every crack in the valley floor had been filled. Every sharp rock had been masqueraded by a garment of soft yellows, silky purples and downy pinks. It would have been quite an experience to see it! No florist would have been able to reproduce that bouquet. No painter would have been able to come close to that work of art.

To whom does the Word of God come? It comes to a man living out in the Death Valley of that place and time. It comes to a man who prefers to be alone, judging from his choice of what he calls home. God’s Word comes not to people who have made it to the top of the heap, not to the emperor living in a comfortable palace, not even to the head of the church doing his duty in the temple, but to someone who is on the edges, on the margins, outside the mainstream of life, in the dry places.

The Word of God came to John. His part was to prepare the way for salvation, to smooth out the way for Jesus to come, to soften our hearts so that we could accept, and then, believe.

And he preached about repentance. About saying to God and to those around us, “you know, I just keep screwing up. I don’t trust God’s promises, mostly because like the rest of my life, I gotta see it to believe it. I keep on breaking my own promises and not living up to my own expectations of myself. And if you knew what I think and feel in the darkest reaches of myself, you would rather not even know me. I am sorry.” This is the kind of repentance that John was trying to tease out of the people. This is the smoothing and the straightening of the way. This is the lifting up of the valleys, and the lowering of the mountains and hills. Repentance in front of the face of God is the way to make a way for Christ to come in. Are you up for it? How about you? Are you ready for your dry, cracked valley floor to be drowned?

So what do you expect happens when God comes into your life? Can you expect there to be a hundred year bloom? Can you expect your rough edges to be smoothed by God, who cares for you? Can you expect to once again have joy in living, like those kayakers in Death Valley?

Well, God’s Word is washing over you today, rushing at you and filling you and touching and awakening dry, wrinkled seeds of new life that were always meant to bloom and glorify not yourself, but your creator!

I tell you what, it is likely that God has a surprise, a good surprise, in store for you. Repent, dear people of God. Point out the obvious inside you, in your own Death Valley. The rainstorm is coming. He has a name. Jesus. A baby, born to bring life back to the world, starting with you!

A Christmas Carol - 2009

Our family followed our Thanksgiving weekend tradition of going to the movies... and this afternoon it was Disney's A Christmas Carol, in 3-D. Here are a few thoughts about this movie, impressions of mine from a few different angles.

1. The CGI is really incredible, particularly when depicting anything non-human. The apparitions were really cool and I would rank the three Christmas ghosts in the following order: First - Christmas Present (a jovial Irishman), Second - Christmas Past (a wispy, Scottish-sounding sprite), and pulling in the rear was Christmas Future (cool effects during this act but the ghost itself was a detail-less shadow). I give the "non-human" caveat because for however great CGI is, there is something about human CGI forms that is so obviously without life. There's a barrier there that keeps me from truly appreciating the work and effort that's put into adding emotion to the human characters. A case in point, I think Scrooge's transformation was less apparent than it should have been. His change of heart was overshadowed by all the eye-candy that was infused into the story. All that said, watching in 3-D is awesome. I think this was my most enjoyable 3-D experience.

2. I'll admit it's been a long time since I've read Dickens himself, but judging from the use of language in this movie, I'm sure this version of the Carol is the most faithful to the language of the text in a generation. If you're a sucker for thoughtful phrase construction and excellent word imagery, this is a great drama. Which leads me to a third, perhaps off-putting point.

3. It seems this was a movie that struggled with its primary goals. When I see CGI I immediately think "kids." Our kids had a great time flying with Ebenezer through London haunts, but there were only a few humorous moments. The dialog was WAY above the levels of my 4th and 1st graders. The basic message of the movie is unmistakable as always, but there's a conflict there with the over-the-top animation, mixed with olde English. As a final note, if I were sitting at the table with the "how do we rate this movie" committee, I would edge closer to PG-13 for graphic imagery. There were a few scenes that were real nail-biters especially for my 7-year-old.

It was a fast-paced movie, very enjoyable, but somewhat conflicted, IMHO.

Guiding Principles

Here is the content of a document I wrote for the members of our Church Council. I thought that I would like to share a list of my guiding principles, touchstones for me as to why I am connected with this congregation. After I shared my principles early in the year, the Council members agreed to take turns coming up with one of theirs. This is a process that's more difficult than one might think!

Guiding Principles
Idea Starter Sheet
By Pastor James Aalgaard


What is a “guiding principle?”

According to a theory called “Family Systems Theory” or “Bowen Theory”, a guiding principle is a principle which is held by an individual or an organization that works toward “differentiation of self.” Differentiation of self is one of the concepts this theory works with in helping people work toward a more thoughtful, mature sense of self in relation to others. Guiding principles can help individuals and groups understand how they are distinct from others, while at the same time being connected.

For myself, I’ve used the image lately of “stepping stones,” or “floor boards” to describe how a guiding principle functions. I’ve also used the image of walking across a stream on the heads of crocodiles! There’s some risk in crossing the stream, but that is what life is about, moving from one point to another.

For our purposes as a Church Council, I propose that we ask ourselves what are guiding principles that help us to understand our level of commitment to this particular Christian community called St. Paul Lutheran Church.

What is an example of a guiding principle?

Lately I’ve come up with five principles that have to do with my connection with this congregation. One example is: “It’s easier to respond to God’s mission in the world as a community of individuals changed by Christ, than it is as individuals changed by Christ.”

This principle has helped to open up for me the blessing that comes with knowing you, and holding public worship with you as a congregation. It also raises my expectations of what God does in worship and in our times of Christian fellowship and ministry.

How do I come up with one (or several!)

Pause to pray. Think of significant moments in your life with St. Paul Lutheran Church. Think also of any dreams you have for this congregation.

Put your pen to paper. It may be helpful to write down some memories in an autobiographical way (who have been significant people for you, what significant thought or spiritual experience have you had here, etc.)

Now boil those thoughts down to a statement that you can remember, a statement that will be important for you as an individual in this community. If you have a hard time coming up with a Bible verse, it’s okay. I bet I can help you with that.

Family Like Tree Rings

Well this setting has more to do with stones than with wood. There Are many more stones, still laying in the shape of a foundation, than there are pieces of timber. Stones are plentiful here. The builder would shape them so they would stack upon one another.

What caught my eye however were the few pieces of wood that were strewn about. In a documentary about the vikings, certain technology was used to determine the age of building materials used to make a viking long ship. They were simply able to take a core sample of the old wood, place it along an historical time line, set it inside a spectrum of tree rings that goes back thousands of years, and quite accurately determine when that ship was constructed. I wondered therefore, how old this building site was. I think the answer is easier than going through all that. The locals here know more about our family history than I do.

Do you know how tree rings are created? They have to do with the speed in which a tree grows from season to season, and from year to year. So, in the winter months a tree will grow much slower than in the summer months, and when it's observed in a sample of wood, the denser and darker rings will represent the times of slower growth. Warm winters will have lighter or thinner rings I think, and so even different varieties of trees will share a common pattern, which helps scientists to put together the time line.

In families, time lines are called family trees, or geneagrams. I wonder if tree rings could be used as a metaphor for how an individual can study her or his family. Times of rapid change versus times of more static existence. Yet, it is the same tree and the softer and harder times are all in relationship with one another. For example, when my grandfather moved to the U.S. in 1925, that began a time of rapid change for the family! Soon, new young shoots were coming up in another part of the world, and although old patterns of functioning will continue (and it will be interesting to continue to think about what those patterns are), there are many new influences to the family, influences that impact the system in ways that would be difficult to understand let alone observe. Over time, one half of grandpa's family of origin moved to North America.

Family like tree rings. There might be something to that metaphor.

Sshh!

First impressions as we all know are quite important. Like flooring tile, or hard wood floors in the case of the airports of Norway, once first impressions are had, they initiate the direction of the experience, and especially one's relationships.

So my first impression of Norway, once I was off the airplane, was the quietness of the place. Although it was busy, there wasn't the racket of the overhead P.A. system. When arriving there after about 13 hours in the air, it was good to have this quietness, to get ready for my first full day with my family.

Once I got my suitcase, I hesitatingly went through the exit, nervous whether I was walking toward my family, or away from them! But there were three familiar faces ready to say welcome.

Helleren

At Jøssingfjørd in Norway, there is a place where a few houses are comfortably tucked under a strangely shaped cliff. In Norwegian, the word "helleren" is used to describe this formation of rock, and so this place bears the same name. People think these houses are about 200 years old, but there has been some study of this site and it is believed that there is evidence of human habitation going back 7,000 to 8,000 years. And why not live in a place like that? You don't have to spend much time repairing your roof! The houses are now a museum that visitors can go into. You are welcome to sign a guest book, and there are displays that help visitors know more about the site. The living quarters are small, even to Norwegian standards.

If you're ever on the south coast of Norway, you can spend a little time in Jøssingfjørd. You can learn about the sinking of the German ship "Altmark" by the British, and think about the rusting hulk at the bottom of the fjørd. As you continue on the road, you'll probably get the impression that the road is very very narrow, and you'll realize that you're far above the water in just a few moments, thanks to a lot of hairpin curves, with a tunnel or two thrown in.

Gustav Vigeland

Near downtown Oslo there is an expansive park, filled with sculptures done by one man, Gustav Vigeland. I think all the human sculptures are nudes, and they are depicting any human emotion imaginable. Some sculptures are solitary, lonely even, and some are set in relationship with other humans. The center of the park has a pillar that rises perhaps 30 feet from its base, carved from one piece of stone, showing the transitions through life.

This sculpture caught my eye. It's very near the center of the park. Notice how Vigeland has a handle on the shape of the human body. In this case, he is depicting a father, mother and infant. As I look at this photo I wonder to myself "where is the power?" Is it in the father, the most robust person in this triad, or in the mother, the one who bears the life of the child and is resilient, or in the infant, the one who has the most future? Or, is the power in the relationship that makes that little family?

The King's Palace

Oslo Norway

At one end of Karl Johan's Gate is the old railway station. At the other end of the street is the King's Palace, "Slottet", the residence of the King of Norway and his family. While walking up Karl Johan's, I remarked to one of my relatives that the King has a long walk when he wants to take the train. He (a career railway guy himself) laughed at that but said that the King does in fact take the train from time to time. Although, the King has his own rail car.

The rel's took this picture and said, "Here's the next king of Norway." Aww, they're just saying that.

Surrounding the palace are park-like grounds where anyone can walk. Huge trees that have been there for a long time, and a spirit of community. When the flag is flying full mast, the King is home. People like to hang out especially when the King is home. I guess personal tours can be arranged, and the relatives are excited to put something like that together for my mom and dad when they go next summer.

Gifts for the Fam

I would have loved to give one of these carvings to each of my Dad's 12 cousins still living in Norway, but I ran out of time. I got pooped out preparing for the other parts of my trip.

So, my hosts, and the female cousins all got a carving from me. These are called "Nisse" (niss-eh). They are little guys that go up and down the hills looking for ways to earn their keep, helping farmers chop wood or do other tasks. By nature, they don't let the grass grow under their feet. They're on the move. I guess you could call them "Wandering Norwegians!"

It was important to me to give them. What the recipients thought of them, now that's another story. Possibly varied responses, but my family has some quiet members so it's not fair for me to judge too quickly.

The style is called "flat plane carving", which is particularly Scandinavian. The artists who really do this well are people who are able to get the angles just right, so the shadows can play on the surface of the carving. Angled carving leaves some work for the imagination too, which I think is a good thing.

I'd like to keep carving and see if it can possibly be a lifelong pastime.

These are carved from basswood, and their staffs are made from myrtlewood which is unique to the coast of Oregon and northern California. The paints are acrylic, and the antiquing is a walnut stain mixed into boiled linseed oil.

Headed to Norway

Tomorrow is a big trip for me! I'm going to Norway to see relatives, and to visit the area where my grandpa grew up. I have many goals for this trip, many hopes and dreams, and I'm so excited that I'm crawling out of my skin.

Been learning a few phrases in Norwegian.

Deciding how much to spend on gifts when I'm there.

Getting gifts ready for the family there.

Making sure that I have my camera packed, my digital voice recorder, and my computer.

My grandpa came from an area called Sokndal in the south of Norway. He grew up farming with his family. The farm couldn't sustain the family, and there had been several neighbors and relative who already left for new opportunities, so he decided to emigrate to the U.S. There is more to tell about grandpa and other ancestors of mine. Stay tuned! I'll try to get some stuff up here on this blog. I've been keeping updates in other places for a while, and so this blog has gotten cold.

Shame - a Few Thoughts

In "When Elephants Weep," Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson speculates and gives considerable evidence (both scientific and anecdotal) for the emotional life of individual animals and communities of animals, citing examples from insects to pachyderms. Much of the book is spent describing the emotional life of monkeys and other primates.

I think it's a fascinating read. It reminds me that for all we know about creation, there is yet so much to discover; and many of our discoveries bring about a reevaluation of the assumptions we inherited.

For example, there is a section on "Shame, Blushing and Hidden Secrets," where this sentence just blurts out: "Shame is one of the most vividly remembered feelings." When I saw that, a kind of shock wave went through me. This is absolutely true. The author goes on to say that other emotions, some even thought to be more intense than shame (anger, for example) are remembered with less intensity than shame. We remember that we were angry, but the actual intensity of that anger has likely subsided. Since this book is about the emotional life of animals (subtext: humans are very creaturely) he spends some time in the discovery process, poking holes in the assumption that the rest of the animal kingdom is basically devoid of emotion. The claim that animals are devoid of emotion gives humankind license to conduct experiments, hunt, proclaim superiority, etc.

Of course I am a human, reading a book written by a human on non-human emotional processes, and part of the "hook" is to realize the intensities and involuntary emotional reactivity that I experience inside my own self.

So on this topic of shame and memory, I immediately thought of the culture of my upbringing and the dominant culture of the world around me. Through no fault of their own except passive acceptance, my forebears utilized shame both in parenting within family groups and in the ordering of society. In fact I suppose it can be argued that the threat of shame is what provides the foundation for a law-abiding society. Parenthetically, when I was recently pulled over for speeding, I felt shame in several ways: 1) the lights of the patrol car, 2) the presence of the officer standing over me, 3) being with about forty others and taking my turn standing in front of the judge at Justice Court, 4) telling my wife. 5) telling my kids. Some people may not attach shame to that simple experience, but I certainly did. And I suspect that those in authority would hope for some amount of shame in the perpetrator.

Now as a theologian, I wonder about shame in terms of our experience in Christian spirituality. How important is it for systematic theology? The Lutheran doctrine of Law and Gospel is a way to describe the bondage we have as sinners under the wrath of God, and then the freedom we receive through the death and resurrection of Christ. It seems to me that shame is part of the picture here. My human experience of shame in the midst of family and society is quite negative, where there is judgment and very little mercy. In fact I consider that shame has been used in my life as a way to manipulate me into a particular moral code, a code that in the end happens to be well and good, but the path to get there is more than a little rough. Isn't there a different way to grow into a particular walk of life, especially when speaking about the Christian's relationship with Jesus Christ and the world around them?

The more difficult way to approach this topic is to examine the ways I covertly and unconsciously apply shaming techniques in my ministry and in my parenting. Whenever I am in a position of authority, the authority figures of my past are the ones whose influence almost dictates my very state of mind. My goodness, this is a question I'll have to be considering very deeply for quite some time. Especially, if I would rather not use shaming as a technique, what else should I take up as a paradigm?

Easter Sermon, "He Goes on Ahead" Mk 16

“So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”

Well dear friends, what kind of crazy ending is this? Were you listening to how things ended here in this Gospel called Mark? What a way to finish reporting about the greatest event in all of creation, in all of history! They were terrorized and amazed, and as they left that place where the tomb of Jesus was, they kept their mouths shut. They zipped their lips. They told no one.

This is a non-ending. If you’ve been in your Bible enough to know something about the other three accounts of the Resurrection, you’d maybe notice that they tell the story with a lot more climax, a much better ending. None of this stuff about running away terrified!

John, for example, says that Mary Magdalene hangs back once the women find the tomb empty. She lingers in the garden, weeping. All of a sudden she’s approached by a man she thinks is the gardener. They strike up a conversation and Mary accuses him of taking away the body of Christ. But then Christ makes a connection with her by speaking her name, his words heal a broken bond, and she suddenly realizes that she’s in the presence of the resurrected Jesus!

What a great way to end the story! What joy! What celebration. Mary becomes the first evangelist and begins to spread the word. But here, we’re left fidgeting with these final words, and this very last word, “afraid.”

It would be like both glass slippers breaking before Cinderella got a chance to be united with the Prince. It would be like telling a fishing story about the big one - the one that got away! It’s like telling about a game-winning free throw, that missed!

What a downer.

Backing up a bit, three women who were close companions to Jesus throughout his life, had come to serve him, even after his death. To do their quiet work together. They were prepared to go into that tomb, find his body, and then gently and carefully place the spices on him and around him, to preserve his body and to show him their respect. What tender moments those would have been. Things related to death are so sterile today, but they sure weren’t back then! Those spices were meant to keep away the smell of death. To overpower the stench.

How solemn it must have been. And sad. What could those ladies, those followers of Jesus, say to one another to comfort the other? Were they talking together about things that Jesus had said while he was still alive? Were they remembering the times when he had healed someone, or even brought someone miraculously back from the dead? What were they talking about? Or were they silent this morning? The memory of their Lord on the cross was too fresh, too raw.

As they were walking, the thought hits them, that the tomb will certainly have a large stone at the opening, and there was no way even all three of them working together were going to be able to move it, not even an inch.

I finally saw a picture of a tomb from around the time of Christ. It showed one that was probably more elaborate than the one that housed Jesus, but it could have been similar enough. The stone I saw was shaped like a big tractor wheel, and the entrance to the tomb was like a trench that was just wide enough for the stone to be rolled into it. The trench was like a ramp leading downward, and so when the stone was rolled in place I would not be surprised if it even keeps water out. It was that tight.

No wonder these women wondered about the stone.

This is the point where the surprises begin to happen.

Each of the girls in the Aalgaard house have taken their turns waking us up at night. I have to admit they’ve learned that it’s a lot easier to wake Dawn than me! They’ve learned to walk as silent as cats, and when they get to our bed, all they have to do is stand there, and pretty soon we’re stirred from sleep because somehow we can tell that there’s a kid right in front of our faces, not saying a word, but staring at us!

Our peaceful night is interrupted by a set of two little eyes.

We think that the little world of our room is one way, but in fact there’s something else going on.

And in that unpredictable moment the very first response is fear.

This is what these women are experiencing this morning. What would they expect to see, or hear when coming to the tomb of their Lord? Well, I guess the answer is nothing. They don’t expect anything out of the ordinary at all. And if I were there I would hope it were so uneventful that I could just go home afterward and get on with my life, living with my grief.

So the first surprise is that the stone isn’t where it should be. Something’s not right.

The next surprise is one for me, and maybe for you too. The women drum up the courage to enter that tomb, not knowing what they would find. Would you go into a tomb after the entrance has been disturbed? You’d almost expect to see yellow police tape.

The next surprise is that the tomb isn’t full of the silence that accompanies death. They expected the only sound to be the shuffling of their own feet, and the sound of their own breathing. But there was another form of life there, a man in white robes, watching them and getting ready to make an announcement to them that they thought they would never hear.

The next surprise is what this man said. “Don’t be alarmed. You’re looking for Jesus of Nazareth, the one who was crucified. He’s been raised. He isn’t here. They laid him there. He’s not there anymore, is he?”

Those spices are useless now. They have no purpose. Now, they’ve just gone from such grief to actual terror. These words have just rocked their world!

But now, hearing the words of the man in white robes, something else is about to happen. Another surprise. As Jesus said earlier, the disciples are told to go on to Galilee, to the homeland of Jesus and Peter and other disciples, and they will see him there.

Jesus is going ahead of the disciples, into the next great part of the story of God’s mission in the world. If we were to look further ahead, and hear about the way the Christian movement took off, we would hear of a phenomenon that spread like wildfire. Hundreds of people at a time calling Jesus their Lord, going through the waters of baptism, believing in him and shaping their own lives to be like his.

People like Paul, who got knocked off his own self-prescribed path and took on a new vocation. Instead of jailing and killing Christians, he made more of them by giving them the Gospel, lots and lots more Christians, because he had been grabbed by the grace of God through Jesus. And Jesus had gone ahead into each of those communities, preparing the hearts and minds of those who would hear about this crucified and risen teacher from Galilee, Jesus, God in the flesh.

And so the Easter message today, is that Jesus is going ahead of us too. Jesus is going ahead of you, dear people of God, preparing a path, preparing a place to stay, getting your future ready for you, even preparing people for your encounter with them, because you bear your faith in you. I don’t know exactly what Jesus is doing ahead of you. I’m not in your tomorrow. Only God can be there.

But if I’ve come to learn a thing or two about this risen man named Jesus, then I can confess right now, that Jesus does in fact go ahead of us, creating new things with precise detail.

When I decided to take this call and serve you as your pastor, I didn’t know any of you. And it goes both directions. I’m sure you were wondering how this was all going to go, having me as your pastor. I was wondering that too as I was plodding along trying to learn names and traditions.

It didn’t take too long for me to begin to realize however, that this is the call for me. And now with these words from Mark bouncing around in my head, I can say confidently that Jesus must have gone ahead of me and my family, to this place called Ontario.

Jesus went ahead of me, creating new friendships and then placing them in our lives.
Even when I think of the homes we’ve lived in, I know that the Lord had gone ahead and found the right places.

It was Jesus who planted the idea of Mission Builders in our heads, mine and yours.
It was Jesus who tapped your heart and asked you to release some of your savings and investments so that we could expand into new space.

It was Jesus who went on ahead of this whole community in 2005, seeing the need of hungry people to simply have enough to eat. And it was Jesus who brought the right people to the table, so that more tables in our area could have something on them.

It was Jesus who went on ahead of those who were planning the Boys and Girls Club here in town. It was Jesus who made the way more smooth.

When we ask God to bless our learning together, and our times of fellowship, and our whole congregation, we’re asking Jesus to go ahead of us.

I proclaim that he is going on ahead of you. Making rough edges smooth and perhaps even making smooth edges rough.

And people of St. Paul, this same Lord, now raised from the dead, is going ahead of us. We’ll send a bunch of kids to Bible Camp. We’ll be busting at the seams with Vacation Bible School. We’ll have a summer meal program for neighborhood kids in July. We’re going to have an art camp. We’re going to collect backpacks again for kids in need. We’ll continue with a quilting ministry, with music and worship, with Financial Peace University. And Jesus in ahead of us, free from the bonds of sin and death, and the fear of death, accomplishing his mission as he keeps calling us and those around us.

And so in your own life, as you continue to walk in faith as a follower of Jesus, there will be times when you notice that the Lord has done something marvelous for you, or with you. That’s the time to say, “Jesus must have gone ahead of me. Because I met him there, even though I didn’t recognize him.”

Amen.

Good Friday Sermon Thoughts

From John 12: “unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains a single grain. But if it dies, it bears much fruit."

Frank Thomas wrote about congregations and change. The title of the book is “Spiritual Maturity”. Sounds like an unattainable goal! Actually he wrote about the Christian life of individuals and how that relates to congregational life. One insight of his was that the only thing that really brings about change in a person, is pain. Real pain.

Think about it. Pain comes in many forms. There is the physical pain that comes with an illness, or a treatment for an illness (just think of how difficult it is to go through chemotherapy, or walking again after a knee replacement). Pain tells the body to stop what it’s doing, and to do something else!

In a sense it goes back to that word of wisdom about how children learn what the word “hot” means. The stove-top is hot. Curious children will learn as soon as their fingers brush across those coils, what the word hot means. From that point on, that word has a very different and deeper meaning. In fact, it changes reality for the kid, this time for the better.

There is the pain of the death of someone you love. Many people talk about a pain they can feel in their chest when they grieve someone’s death. And now, with that pain, there is a very different outlook not only on life, but on the way those who remain even see themselves. Pain involves the loss of something, whether it’s health, happiness, or even a certain way of interpreting the world.

My grandma hoarded buttons. You see, she quilted. And when she cut apart old clothing for blankets she would toss the buttons into a deep cookie tin. That’s something I’m sure I teased her about when I was too young to know better. But she had managed to live through the emotional pain of the Great Depression, doing her part providing for a family of six, and that experience changed her. Gave her new habits that she never grew away from. Grandma saved every little item, thinking about how to use it someday for something else.

Christians could so easily be accused of being part of a feel-good religion. And there’s a lot to feel good about. When you get involved with a congregation like St. Paul I hope you make some friends. I hope that when you come on Sundays, you get to catch up on what’s been going on in each other’s lives throughout the week. That feels good.

I hope that when you’re sick, or when you’re alone in your home, or when you have a new baby, there are offers from your congregation, offers to help out, to baby-sit, to simply have a conversation in order to ward off loneliness, keep isolation at bay, to bring meals to you until you are healed. All that feels good.

And our Bibles are the source of incredibly rich and wise words for how to live in this world. There’s a lot of good advice in the Bible, we can even call it moral teaching, and we would have a more peaceful and happy community if more of us would take those teachings seriously, rely on one another and be willing to be relied upon.

All of those things are great marks of the Christian life, of the body of Christ, of the living, active Spirit of God who is deeply and lovingly involved with the smallest details of our lives. Jesus comes to us every day saying “I forgive you,” and “the life I’m giving you is better than the life you have to manage on your own,” and “I’m bringing about a new creation, and you’re involved with that.”

But on this night, the New Creation is so far away. The Gospel reading finished with these four little words, “they laid Jesus there.”

They laid his body in a freshly dug hole in the ground. They placed him in a garden, they planted him like a single grain of wheat. He had died before the two others who were crucified that day. His legs didn’t have to be broken by the soldiers. He had already given up his spirit.

The only teaching he’s doing now is that his life has been poured out entirely, painfully. No words of wisdom about how to hold our temper, how to love one another, how to parent our children, or even how to forgive someone or seek forgiveness. The one who last night had bent down and washed feet is now a lifeless body. Soon tonight we’ll have the words of a hymn, “love to the loveless shown, that they might lovely be”.

Jesus died about 2,000 years ago, on a hill about 7,000 miles away. He spoke a language other than English. His skin was darker than most of ours. It feels far away and long ago, because it is.

But the good news is that he died for you. This was the worst day of his life, but the best day of yours. Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains a single grain. But if it dies, it bears much fruit. The pain of the cross is on your behalf! This single act of love is how God loves the world, how God loves you. His pain puts you and me on a different direction in life. Through all of this, God is saying to us today, “all that you were, all that you are, I am covering over with love, forgiveness and new life, because of my Son, the Word made flesh.”

Naked Chancel

After the Maundy Thursday service, we worked together to strip the altar and clear away everything removable from the chancel.

As we were leaving, Fern said, "It looks so forlorn."

Exactly. It looks like we're packing up the church and getting ready to hit the trail. Like the Israelites of long ago, who were commanded to eat lamb with a walking stick in one hand.

"Travelin' Shoes", Maundy Thursday 2009 (Exodus 12, John 13)

“You shall eat (the lamb) with your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly, you shall gobble it. It is the passover of the Lord.”

Who says God’s timing is slower than ours? That we wish God would get on with it already, that God would accomplish that which is promised, or even that for which we pray? Is watching God work really like watching grass grow, or watching paint dry? Is God so slow to act that we wonder if God maybe isn’t so concerned with this world and most especially with us? We hear that God is slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, but what about when it comes to giving us a blessing? What about when it comes to giving us direction in life? Or healing our sickness?

What we hear tonight in Exodus is something very different from that. We hear that God is going to act swiftly, and that the terrible last plague is going to come like an evening breeze, out of no-where, and that it is going to be silent. Unless you make a certain mark on your front door, people of Israel, the oldest child in your family will die.

Get ready, people of God! Roast the lamb that I command you to get. Roast it will all its innards still there. And eat it all in the same night. If there’s anything left over, throw it away in the morning. This is a meal eaten in haste. It’s a meal that’s meant to be inhaled, (like the way I eat breakfast most mornings) not savored. In fact, says God, I want you to eat one-handed, with your other hand holding your walking stick.

So when God is ready to make a move, and this a very dramatic and invasive move, God wants the people to be ready to get outta Dodge whenever God says, Go.
There’s an old Gospel song called Travelin’ Shoes.

Death came knockin’ on that sinner’s door... Said old sinner are you ready to go? He said no no no no no no no because I ain’t got on my travelin’ shoes, ain’t paid my dues.

God is saying today to the Israelites, gird up your loins, in other words, bend down, grab past you ankles to the back hem of your robes, and bunch it all up so you can run! Run at a sprint if you have to! Run and get out of that place of slavery. Don’t you mind how it looks, your mission is to not be here anymore, but to be in a new place, in a place that I will show you, says God.

Could they have had unfinished business? Could there have been more packing to do? Could it be they wanted to take more time putting on those travelin’ shoes? But there was going to be no extra time to get things packed in an orderly way. No time to tie up loose ends. God was going to open the door of that jail cell, and he was about to do it sooner than later.

Sometimes it’s better to have a whole lot of change all at once than to have a little change, a little at a time. God was about to create a new nation of people. God was about to define a particular family of earth with a promise, with God’s own Word, with God’s direct involvement. God was getting his hands dirty with the particular story of a particular people, in a particular place in time.

Those travelin’ shoes had to last, because God was going to lead them up and down, hither and yon, on a serpentine path to a new land. And those travelin’ shoes that the people wear are not the reward for faithful living, for pious praying, for righteous singing. They are a sign that God has begun pulling, pushing and walking alongside them, creating a new people by doing so.

That Gospel song tries with all its might to get the Christian and even the non-Christian ready for meeting their own end. It’s a “if you die tonight where are you headed” kind of song. It’s a “come to Jesus” song that really makes the singer and the hearer want to check their own spiritual health, to ask themselves the deep question of whether they have the right shoes for that final hike up the mountain to see their Lord.

Oh yes, this is something I wonder about. Did I think about Jesus enough today? Do I thank him enough for what he’s done for me? Am I courageous enough to speak about my Lord in the home and in my neighbor’s yard? Do I have a strong enough, a deep enough, a solid enough foundation of faith so that I will last on that last day and be welcomed into the arms of my Savior? If I ever prayed the sinner’s prayer I don’t remember. Since I can’t remember, then I guess I better pray it again and see if it sticks this time. See if I can time-stamp my rebirth as a child of God.

Or is there more that I can do? Maybe spending a few more minutes in prayer, maybe reading a bit more out of my Bible?

This conscience of mine can run as fast as an Israelite through the Red Sea. Do I have my travelin’ shoes on? Do you?

But now, when we come to Jesus, that is to say the words of Jesus and the story of his last night in this world, he is not on a stump somewhere, or in a pulpit, or on a soapbox preaching to us and stirring us up to be fervent in faith. Tonight, he’s not girding up his loins, but he’s instead taking off his outer robe and putting on a towel, nearly naked.

And he’s bending down to us. He’s removing our socks and shoes. He’s taking the water and pouring it over our feet. In fact, he’s taking off our travelin’ shoes because he is the end of our journey. Jesus is the end of our journey. Even before it really got started, Jesus is anointing us with simple water, anointing us with his love for us. Anointing us as sinners, christening us as dirty-footed people, and it is he who brings us back to him. While we sit.

Parker Palmer is a writer and teacher who was for a time in the bottom-most territory of a severe depression. He wanted to end his own life but couldn’t find the energy to do it. He had already been quite successful. And so people would show up and try to pull him out of his funk. Here’s how he put it.

People would say 'You're so successful, and you've written so well.' And that would leave me feeling more depressed, because I would feel, 'I've just defrauded another person who, if they really knew what a schmuck I was, would cast me into the darkness where I already am.'

There was this one friend who came to me, after asking permission to do so, every afternoon about four o'clock, sat me down in a chair in the living room, took off my shoes and socks and massaged my feet. He hardly ever said anything. He was a Quaker elder. And yet out of his intuitive sense, from time to time would say a very brief word like, 'I can feel your struggle today,' or farther down the road, 'I feel that you're a little stronger at this moment, and I'm glad for that.'

But beyond that, he wouldn’t say hardly anything. He would give no advice. He would simply report from time to time what he was sort of intuiting about my condition. Somehow he found the one place in my body, namely the soles of my feet, where I could experience some sort of connection to another human being. And the act of massaging just, you know, in a way that I really don't have words for, kept me connected with the human race.

But in this act, where Jesus comes to his own followers, those whom he loved to the end (as John puts ), we are much more than connected with the human race. The human race just goes in circles, heading for the grave. As Christ removes our travelin’ shoes and serves us, we are connected with our creator, who has decided that no amount of dirt, no sin, no depression, no illness, no abuse is so dirty as to stick to our feet forever, for Jesus is the one who in his own body makes all things new, who in his own death declares to you, “you have arrived, and you are holy.”

Sin Insulator

North Carolina today has the distinction of being the location for the latest newsworthy and horrific sin. Some self-consumed, morally numb man ushered himself into a nursing home, a freaking nursing home, and opened fire. He probably had to shuffle his firearm into his left hand and then push the button at the door before entering. Allegedly the connection he had to that place was that he was involved with a woman of course, and that she worked there. Speaking today on NBC, a woman paid tribute to her father who was among those killed. Her dad had spent 30 years crafting a single violin. Just one. I used to hate how the violin's sound cut through the air. Now I'm haunted by it, and I love it.

In other news, this time from Massachusetts, a man interrupted his sister's 5th birthday by stabbing her to death. He also killed his 17-year old sister. The 9-year old sister called 911 and the shooter was killed by the cops. He was 22.

I remember someone talking about a trip they took to the Holy Land. This was many years ago but I think the image still applies. She told me that while the tour group was busing around those communities she saw some difficult images. The one comfort was that she could pretend the window of the bus was a TV screen. She found comfort in that.

Which to me begs the question as I watch the pixels that represent what I type: Can video (the TV, the computer...) insulate us from the sin of the world? Not only that, can it also insulate me from my own sin? Not the reality of it certainly, for sin is sin at the moment of its conception; it is now registered in the mind of almighty God. Cross reference Martin Luther's thinking about when Eve sinned in the biblical story. It wasn't when those perfect pearly whites broke the skin of that fabled apple that Eve sinned, it was when she responded to the Enemy, that sly serpent, with a teeny tiny drop of doubt inside her mind, doubt that God's Word, God's promise was somehow not true. I'm sure Jesus was thinking about this when he proclaimed that we are to have a childlike faith, which is to say that the Word creates what it says, and like children, we human creatures are to receive it with joy and above all certainty. When Eve began the family tradition of doubt, she did not fall FROM something, she reached upward into what Brueggemann calls "the prerogatives of God".

How often do you hear the survivors say, or their neighbors, that they wouldn't in their wildest dreams think that this could happen to them, to their community, to their family? Ah! It's because you've been hooked by the soap opera, the narrative, which pretends to be a narrative and not the real thing, because the psychosocial network of our communities are at the same time repulsed by and desperately infatuated by sin and the details of its carnage.

"Come to me," says a teacher from the north country, Jesus of Nazareth, "and I will give you rest."

A gift for you, from your local funeral chapel

At death, my fingernails will stop growing. However, knowing me, they will probably need to be clipped just after I die, while my body is being prepared for viewing. I never stopped to think that funeral chapels will need to have a supply of fingernail clippers.

In this case, not only do they have a supply, they also use them as a kind of advertising tool. How smart. And perhaps thoughtful.

St. Paul said once, "To live is Christ, to die is gain." You know, for the time being I'm okay with Christ. The gain can be a future reality. In the meantime, I'm thanking God that my fingernails, in fact, continue to grow.

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Blessing of Ministries

Here's a litany I worked up last year, changed this year (will probably change again next year!) as we ask God's blessing on our leadership. Which includes the Church Council and the leadership from other ministries. Use it if you'd like, change it for your own situation, and/or comment.

Blessing of Ministries

L: God our Creator, you have taught us that through Jesus your work is finished, and that we are already reconciled to you.
A: But we know there is unfinished business
L: There are seeds to be sown
A: And we know that the plants of ministry grow and bear fruit because of your Spirit
L: Whether we teach children here, pay bills, or hand out food to people in need,
A: Whether we are making decisions on Church Council, or caring for this building and grounds,
L: We are planting seeds. We are taking a small part in your great mission to gather the whole world to yourself.
A: But we can’t do all that you require or ask of us
L: We are limited people with limited money, limited skill, and often with limited time and limited desire.
A: Yet we know that somehow…
L: …And in some way
A: You are able to work with our limits, because your Word never returns empty.
L: Your grace is sufficient for us
A: Your power is made perfect in our weakness
L: Your love and promises hold us securely and guide us each day.
A: Bless our leaders today. Help us to support and care for them, interpreting their actions and decisions in the kindest way.
L: Let us all, in our various ministries, and in the strength of your Spirit, proclaim your grace and love to every person whom our ministries touch.
A: Amen.

Second Wind

At the church I serve there are a handful of new faces. What an encouragement that people are giving St. Paul a try, that they are seeking God's Word and Christian community at our house!

What I've been wondering for awhile, is whether the worship service that I design is inaccessible to many people, especially those who are trying us out for the first time. This isn't a very "Lutheran" part of the country. Are there questions that people want to ask, but they think they can't, or that they shouldn't? What about having dialog about the ways in which we worship, the things we do and the history behind them?

My main thing is that I'm a person of words. I work so hard at the particular words I say, so much that I'm stuck with the need to say ONLY those words and so there is not a great deal of flexibility and freedom in my leadership and in my presence.

I'm thinking about starting a Facebook group that has to do with innovations within the context of worship. Sure there are lots of different kinds of congregations, many variables, but there is a common challenge/opportunity/struggle to open God's Word and not put up obstacles. Any interest out there?

Home

Lord, you have been our dwelling place for all generations. From everlasting to everlasting, thou art God. Psalm 90:1

I’m writing from the home I grew up in, near Shelly Minnesota. The family and I are here for a week of vacation, having a late Christmas with my relatives and celebrating with my parents their 50th wedding anniversary. It has been a great trip! How can the earth get so cold? This morning we clocked in at minus 20. In this neck of the woods, where necks are wound up tight with homemade scarves, belief in “global warming” is a tough sell. Being here, however, gets me to-thinking: how places, buildings and memories can be, at the same time, familiar and different.

While worshiping with my family in the little country church called Bethany, I found myself looking around the sanctuary (yes, during the sermon) and noticing some of the same things I noticed when I was a child: the small crosses near the ceiling, encircling the whole perimeter of the room, that are part of the design of the building; the large painting of Jesus bending his ear toward a door and rapping, depicting verses from the book of Revelation, “behold I stand at the door and knock.” I remember that as a child, I would look at these static pieces of decor and wonder about them. Now I wonder about these objects too, but this time I wonder whom they were purchased in memory of.

What happens to us when we go home? For me, there is comfort and a sense of completeness in going back to where it all started. Mom and Dad have lived in this house about 40 years. I can still find my way around this place, like where the cold medicine is kept, even in the dark of night. As certain things have been worn by age, I find myself thinking that I wouldn’t like to fix or replace them. They are part of my past, and yes, I’m perhaps more sentimental than is healthy or wise.

But, there is also a sense of figuring out in what ways I am different, now that I have established a home elsewhere. The self really does shift and change, and hopefully mature over time, and the act of going away and coming back home helps to highlight those changes. Going away doesn’t create those changes. If anyone wants to mature, they will have to do some hard work whether they are at home or not. New experiences usually have to fit into newly created categories, and the past is then simply one of my resources at hand, among many, resources for my desire to understand myself always in a clearer way.

Getting finally to a spiritual message for this article, it is good to be reminded of verses like these from Psalm 90. What if God is not a fixed “dwelling place” but instead a kind of dwelling place that comes alongside us and has something to say in every part of life? In a way, God is a pop-up tent that provides a bit of refuge along the way. I like having a mobile God. Peace to you, as the Bright Morning Star guides in the Season of Epiphany.