Pastoral Thought--February 11

This morning as I was walking over to the church, I was struggling. This was not an emotional struggle, but one born of the winter and its coldness. . . I gingerly walked across the driveway and out into the parking lot. The ground under my feet was slippery—very slippery. Each step required careful examination and thought. Sure a fresh powder of snow fell last night, and that helped me walk a bit because it provided something to ‘crunch,’ but it was not enough. It was slippery, and I worried that I would fall if I was not alert to where I put my steps. I tried to follow the tracks other cars have made, but that was not very helpful either. . . 

To compound my footing-problem, my breath was fogging up my glasses and making it hard to see. Each new breath coated my glasses a bit more until the world outside was a white haze of shapes and blobs of color. To compensate for the ‘fogged up’ glasses, and while still trying not to fall, I looked over the frame of my glasses at the church. I thought that if I changed my point of reference that I would make it; that it would help. But that did not help much either. The sunshine on a bright morning was reflecting off the snow and blinding me all the more. 

I was struggling with the elements of winter. 

Now don’t get me wrong: I was not getting angry at all. I knew that this is how winter progresses. This is normal for February. And regardless of what the groundhog thinks, spring is coming. It will be here soon. The snow will melt and the path to the church will be clear for me. The beauty of a snowy white yard will be a distant memory. It will be gone until later in 2021 when we think about how great it would be to have a white Christmas again. 

As I sat down and began my day the words of David Steindl-Rast came to mind as I chuckled about the struggle of walking to the church in the snow. David's work on gratefulness reminded me of the joy I felt in autumn when the first snow fall happened. Even as I was unable to see this morning as I walked to the church, I wondered where could I practice my faith differently; gratefully? 

David wrote: 

“We have thousands of opportunities every day to be grateful: for having good weather, to have slept well last night, to be able to get up, to be healthy, to have enough to eat. . . There’s opportunity upon opportunity to be grateful; that’s what life is.”

 It is easy to focus on that which presents us with daily challenges and to become angry because of this challenges. It is easy, and also understandable, to get bogged down in moments like I just described where walking (or completing a basic task) is challenging and irritating. I did not want to walk this way, and I don’t think that you would either. But I was in that moment. And, as David reminded me, I slept well last night. My breakfast hit the spot. The sun shone gorgeously on the white church yard.  

The doctor’s appointment that I went for my aching knee revealed no damage to the structure of the joints or tissue. All that my doctor found was some arthritis that is related to the surgery from 2018 that I had. A cortisone injection helped me with the discomfort, and I walked normally out the Health and Wellness Pavilion pain free. I walked normally to the church also this morning—and I am grateful. I wonder how much harder it might have been to walk to church this morning if I was still in pain? I had the opportunity to be grateful for the substance of my week when I could also choose to be frustrated or see the events of the day only through a negative perspective.

I wonder, where could you practice David’s gratefulness posture? And when you practice it, what might God remind you about?

Blessings 

Rev. Derek

Pastoral Thought--February 10

Sometimes even the most basic lessons of the Christian faith can be re-discovered or re-learned. In those cases, it is not that we have forgotten, or neglected, what God’s word says to us, or how much it inspired us to grow and change. Rather, the lessons are so familiar to our hearts that in their familiarity we stop remembering them so passionately. We stop sharing them. We can stop relying on them. We attempt to move on to deeper, or harder, teachings of God’s word. But in that transition, we can forget the basic lessons that we learned which helped to shape us into the Christians that we are today. 

So, I want to share with you a passage of a book that I have read a number of times that continues to speak to my heart. I was first introduced to this text while studying at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. I was working on my M.Div when I signed up for a class on Reformed Dogmatics by two of my favorite professors (Dr. Partee and Dr. Purves). They are likely the two most astute, most caring, professor that I had during those years. At that time, I did not know how this class would shape my theological worldview. Truth be told, I didn’t fully know what to expect in the class, but the word "Reformed" caught my eye so I took the class to help sharpen my theological understanding of our reformed tradition. The class was a blessing. I use the material from that class often in my devotional life and in my pastoral work. 

On the first day of class we were handed a large yellow book. It was a copy of a text that is now out of print. The publisher, Kessinger Publishing, painstakingly scanned, and printed, each page of the text into a pdf format and then bound the work in a large 8/5x11 format. . . This publisher often finds historical texts that are out of print and binds them in this format so the world will continue to have these books to read and enjoy.

In the book, which is entitled “The Christian Experience of Forgiveness,” Scottish theologian H.R. Mackintosh wrote the following words for us:

"To the saint it is a daily discovery that God does not cast him out. Christian as he is, he remains a sinner; saved, doubtless, in response that he is now in communion with the Father, yet not translated magically into a sphere where temptation is unknown, but set to develop moral freedom through struggle and discipline, under the leadership of God and in His enjoyed love. Recurring faults are met by a mercy which he would not dare to claim in right and which excludes the notion that ’salvation,’ given freely at the start, could be sustained in being by meritorious performance. In the family of God all are in this sense ‘unprofitable servants’ to the end, costing more than the worth of any service."

Throughout the remainder of this book, Mackintosh goes to great length to remind the church that we do nothing to deserve God’s love—for we are in fact sinners at our core. Yet, Mackintosh cannot ignore, and does not forget, that we are loved beyond belief by the God who could judge us! We are welcomed into God’s presence because of the grace that we receive through Jesus Christ’s death in spite of the sin that we will regularly embrace and choose. 

Like I said. . . it’s a basic lesson of the Christian faith. A lesson we have taught our children and families for years.

However, sometimes we need to be reminded of even the most basic learning—and not because we have completely fallen short. Rather we need to be reminded of these basic lessons because, I believe, that in the hustle of life, in the midst of pressure that we place upon ourselves, in the midst of a culture that pushes back upon us, God still loves us and calls us to be together as the church and in communion with God in heaven. I wonder today what this basic lesson of forgiveness and grace will mean in your day? I wonder who is God asking you to share these words with, and what will happen in their life when you do?

Blessings

Rev. Derek

Pastoral Thought--February 9

It is very quiet here. . . very. . . very quiet. Outside the window of my office I see large snow flakes trickling down into the yard. It is beautiful to see (not so safe to drive in, but pretty to look at).  I can no longer see my footprints in the snow as I walked to the church this morning while sipping coffee. If the lights in the building were not on, no on would even know that I was here. School is not in session because of the snow and ice that it feel upon. Across the hall there are no children learning their letters, shapes, and lessons. They are not singing songs are talking about what day of the week it is. 

It is just me here today. 

The quiet hum of fluorescent lights in my office, and the gentle sound of the heater keeping the cold at bay, are my only companions today. I find myself breathing quieter when no one is in the church but me in fear that I will be too loud. It’s a silly thing to think of, but that is how today is going. Like I said, it is so quiet here today. 

The quietness that I am experiencing amidst a snowy day makes me think about the power of rest and what it can do in our lives as the church. Rest is something that I believe the church needs to embrace more fully, and at the same time, rest is also a practice that can make us feel guilty to engage in. Do we not say, “there is no rest for the weary?” We are conditioned to be productive as Christians, to be active in society and at work. Therefore living in the opposite direction, by fully embracing a posture of rest, does not carry much appeal to us. But it should. We should look for time to rest in our Christian walks much more often than we do.

In an article that I read recently, Denominational executive and pastor, Eliza Cortes Bast writes these words about rest that do carry with them some the truth about how we feel about rest. She writes, 

"Rest produces guilt. Every minute I spend away, every minute I spend with my guard down, is an invitation to return to more work and more worry. My absence risks the people [that] I serve, the core of who I am. What if something happens to them while I am gone?"

As this article continues, Eliza by remind the church that scripture calls us to find time and space to rest—not step back to reload or recalibrate our list of tasks—rest. It is not a shameful act to step back, or to slow down, so that we can find a moment to rest in our day. Jesus did it repeatedly in the gospel, and he also taught the practice to his disciples. Rest was how Christ encountered His Father in heaven. It was vital to him and it should be for us.

On a quiet snowy morning such as this, perhaps God is offering you a chance to put aside what you are doing for the moment and rest. I wonder how that rest will shape the remainder of your day and your week?

Blessings

Rev. Derek

Pastoral Thought--February 4

Today I am having a hard time focusing. . . This happens periodically. The reasons are multifaceted; some are deeply personal—personal in that they are part of my personhood that I cannot escape. My mind, at times, runs faster than the rest of my body. I have even had my mind running so fast that my words cannot keep up with what’s happening in my head. The whole thing is frenetic when I wish that it could be still. But that is not how I was made. This is partly what I pace so much when I talk on the phone—my mind is moving a million miles an hour so my body tries to keep up. 

Today my focus-issues are more personal in nature. 

Across the hall I hear the 3-year-olds of our nursery school talking about the letter “D” and a pesky groundhog who lives in Punxsutawney and seems to like saying that spring will never come! Plus, Jennifer and I are excited to welcome home a certain 18-year-old from college for the weekend. It feels like he has been gone forever even though it has only been two weeks. We are excited to have him home and to have him come to church with us this weekend (I suspect that he is excited to see his dog and sleep in his bed—the Edinboro bed is very uncomfortable for him).

With that frenetic pace at work in me, I remembered the woods of Gordon Hempton from the podcast On Being. In the interview Grodon talks a lot about being present to listen, which for him, involves slowing down and paying closer attention to what is happening around him. His words spoke to my heart and my placement today as I am thinking frenetically. . . He says: 

"I grew up thinking that I was a listener, except on my way to graduate school one time, I simply pulled over making the long drive from Seattle, Washington, to Madison, Wisconsin, pulled over in a field to get some rest and a thunderstorm rolled over me. While I lay there, and the thunder echoed through the valley, and I could hear the crickets, I just simply took it all in. And it’s then I realized that I had a whole wrong impression of what it meant to actually listen. I thought that listening meant focusing my attention on what was important even before I had heard it and screening out everything that was unimportant even before I had heard it. 

In other words, I had been paying a lot of attention to people, but I really hadn’t been paying a lot of attention to what is all around me. It was on that day that I really discovered what it means to be alive as another animal in a natural place. That changed my life. I had one question, and that was, how could I be 27 years old and have never truly listened before? I knew, for me, I was living life incredibly wrong, so I abandoned all my plans, I dropped out of graduate school, I moved to Seattle, took my day job as a bike messenger and only had one goal, and that was to become a better listener.”

Slow down. . . and listen. . . become a better listener when the pacing of your life seems to demand that you press on or press-faster. Don’t try to become more than whom God created you to be. Gordon’s words stopped me. I put down my tea. . . Set my book aside. . . I minimized what I was working on. . . And just listened to God. My heartbeat slowed. My mind relaxed. I heard the words of the song: “In this Very Room. . .” If you are not familiar with the words of the song it ends with the line: 

"For Jesus, Lord Jesus ... is in this very room."

I wonder what you might experience with Jesus when you spend time listening as I did this morning? I wonder how helpful a practice such as this might be in your day when you too find things spinning out of control? 

Blessings

Rev. Derek

Pastoral Thought--February 3

Church family, 

I can’t believe it is February 2021. Perhaps I feel this way for a different reason that you might anticipate. . . What I cannot believe is that it has almost been a year since the covid-lockdown began and we began to use a combination of virtual and in-person worship practices. During that time, we faced irritation together; many of us did not like what we were seeing. We were frustrated together by what we witnessed in our government's response. On multiple occasion we expressed, and lived into, a sense of hope that even though things were not working out as we hoped, believed, or planned, we could find God at work with us. As a church, Plains demonstrated adaptability regularly during this time. And I believe we will live into this practice again in 2021 as covid is still with us— and seems to be something we will work with for a while. But that is not the subject of this post. 

Instead, I have been thinking a lot about something that JonMark’s girlfriend said to me back in April 2020 (truth be told it might had even been in March… I can’t remember that exact date. But her words are seared into my mind). In our conversation, Autumn and I were talking about how the 2020 Senior Class at Seneca Valley was not having a ’normal’ graduation experience. At that time we didn’t even conceive of the fact that the class of 2021 would have a far different year that would, in many ways, feel much worse. I looked at Autumn and said, “I am sorry that you are not having a normal graduation. It feels like you are being robbed of it.” 

She smiled at me, as she often does, and said, “Well, at least we will have a great story to tell our kids one day.” Again, her words have been with me since she said them. I return to them often in my mind as I think about the response the church has practiced to covid and to the many other issues that have risen up over this past year. “We will have a great story to tell…” It has been almost a year, I wonder what story we are telling others about God, about the church, and about the hopeful future that sits before us.

If you pick up a book that Larry Golemon edits that is entitled, Living our Story, you will find these words tucked into a discussion about pastoral leadership. But they are no less applicable to each of us as the body of Christ. These words support what Autumn told me so many months ago. . .  

“The emphasis on logic and rationality runs counter to how human brains actually work. [Daniel Pink] says, we are not built for facts. Instead we are hardwired for telling and remembering stories. Telling stories actually helps us assimilate facts and data by integrating the left and the right hemispheres of the brain together. . . .Thus story is essential to human understanding.”

And so, as 2021 has begun, and the issues and struggles of covid are still with us, I wonder are you listening to stories that are shared consistently and faithfully? I wonder what story you will tell when you are confronted in public, or in the worship space, and asked about your response to what you see happening “out there?” We do have a great story to tell and listen to, but will we? 

Blessings

Rev. Derek

Pastoral Thought--February 2

Do you do good enough?

The vast majority of Christians ask themselves this question regularly. I can’t stop it even though I have encounter it throughout the years of pastoral ministry. Is what I do, good enough?

Today, Jennifer asked for a special lunch—Eggs Benedict. It’s a tricky thing to make for some people. Now let me just say that I love to cook. I love to cook for my family. It brings me joy to follow a recipe, or duplicate something from memory, that I have cooked before. The last time that I made the dish it turned out very well. So I was happy to make it again for her. Eggs Benedict is recipe that requires some attention and practice to do well. It is Jennifer’s favorite breakfast item. I learned to make the sauce a few months ago after reading a number of recipes and watching a few videos that demonstrate the process. The first time that I made Eggs Benedict it tasted great. Then, each time since that first offering, I have completed the meal properly and enjoyed making it for the family.

For those not familiar with hollandaise sauce, it can be a bit tricky to make. The primary issue with the sauce comes from beating the egg yokes a lot, while adding melted butter, all the while heating the sauce in a double boiler to cook it gently and slowly. You do kinda a need three hands to do it well, but it can be done. If you heat the yokes too fast then you will scramble the eggs. Cook it too slow and the ingredients won’t combine into that yummy sauce. This is a delicate balance. Once the sauce is made it needs to be removed quickly from the heat but watched carefully. If it cools too far then the hollandaise will either solidify, separate, or both. It is still edible in any of those forms, but it doesn’t look good. And as many people have said over the years, we eat with our eyes first.  

This time, while cooking the turkey bacon, my sauce split. . . badly. It clumped up and the added butter split from the egg yoke totally. The whole thing went from a nice shade of yellow to an off shade of yellow-green. Still edible. Still tasty. All the components of hollandaise sauce were present, but the sauce was wrong. I was. . .  irritated. 

My poached eggs were perfectly cooked. The turkey bacon was nicely browned and crisped the way we like it. Emma’s bagel was toasted and I was ready to plate the meal. . . but again the sauce split. It clumped on the plate rather the nicely spread across the egg. Again, I was irritated. This is not what I set out to offer my hungry family.  

But then my loving wife, who asked for her favorite meal to be made at lunch said, “Honey, it's fine. It tastes great. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” (How is it that wives have the exact phrasing that is necessary in such moments? It does not matter.) What I made was good enough. Emma loved her. Jennifer ate every bite. They were happy. The dogs watched them eat longingly. But I was neither happy or satisfied. 

Do you do, good enough, church? 

In this case, I did good enough, or should I say, I did the best that I could do. Isn’t that all that God asks of us? We do not need to get down on ourselves when things don’t work our perfectly according to our plans. Instead, take a moment today and notice the times that what you did for God was enough. . . It was all that God asked. Is that the true definition of faithfulness??

Pastoral Thought--February 1

For Christmas JonMark gave me a number of books that he thought that I would enjoy. One was a Star Wars book that I am looking forward to reading soon. The other three books were military books. They retold famous stories. I completed the first 2 books quickly. As with most books in this genre, the reading is easy and flows smoothly. I read about famous operations and the life of US Marine general as he served in Iraq. 

The third book, the one that I am reading each evening now, is a bit different. 

Frank Sission, the author, served in World War II in Patton’s Third Army. The book he writes is titled: I marched with Patton. He tells his story of moving from rural Oklahoma, to basic training, and then finally landing in the Army in Europe. While Frank was not present at the D-Day Invasion, his service carried him from the shores of France all the way to Munich, Germany. It is an interesting story to read. 

The most challenging parts to read are when he and his men first walk into Buchenwald. 

They don’t know what they are walking into, or what they will find there. It was shocking for them. I am sure that even as you read the word “Buchenwald” you took a deep breath. You know what happened there. The suffering and pain that lived in that place. But Frank didn’t. . . and neither did a number of people who he served alongside of that day. At that point in the book, Frank’s narration of the story loses a lot of details. It seems that he just cannot write about what we saw—which is understandable. I am not sure that I could either. But the story continues.

Some time later, while traveling toward Munich, after having crossed the Rhine ahead of schedule, these same men come across another set of chain link fences. . . . Fences with razor wire on top of them and large guard towers. There is an odor in the area that is unmistakable. Sadly, Frank and his men found Dachau. What a burden to bear—being present at 2 concentration camps. 

The story in place is worse. It is far worse. What Frank sees he struggles to put into words, but tries. 

At Dachau, Frank sits with survivors of the Nazis making sure that they do not eat too quickly. If they do eat too fast they could die because their bodies cannot handle the calories being rushed back into their systems at that pace. This is slow, gentle, work that he must do. And again, Frank does it well. It is after that experience that Frank’s faith is again expressed in a familiar way: in a Psalm. 

Throughout the war, Frank’s primary job was to string wire so that the Allied heavy artillery has a solid, constant, line of communication with the frontlines. It is risky work for Frank and his men because they are routinely worried about snipers trying to cut the lines and being bombed them from the skies by passing aircraft. He is in a few ’near misses,’ but Frank survived every time. His men survived every time. In the moments after running the wire, and dodging bombs and bullets, Frank often returns to a tiny piece of paper that he tore out of a bible. It is stuffed in his shirt pocket over his heart. He rereads a portion of Psalm 91 each time. Besides his letters from home, this passage of God’s word, supports him. 

That passage of Psalm 91 is held tightly after the events at Dachau. He weeps. He reads the words again and again. God’s word support Frank when he is alone and trying to rest. 

I do not imagine that you or I will be placed in a situation with that much pain and suffering surrounding us. But we will, we absolutely will, find times when the word of God could help us in our daily moments of pain. We will experience times when the promises of scripture will be what we need to remember and hold onto. In that case, I wonder what passage your heart is drawn to? 

For me it is also Psalm 91. I wonder what passage you read?

Blessings

Rev. Derek