Posted in Connecticut, Ministry

Maybe you can find something (or someone) a little closer.

His-and-Hers-Brown-Bag-Lunch-9As I’ve mentioned before, you can live out in the middle of nowhere, and people will find your home, especially if you are the pastor and you live next door to the church. One thirty-something gentleman that I remember from our Connecticut days drove up our drive way and knocked at the door one evening. He told what I came to learn was the usual story: in-between jobs, family to feed, anything I can do to help. Not that we had that much cash anyway, but in those pre-ATM days, you couldn’t even go out and easily get some. You usually had to go to the bank and cash a check.

But we didn’t send him home empty-handed. We packed up a few supper leftovers, a few non-perishables in the pantry, and he was thankful. He also came back every few weeks with a similar story, and we sent him home with similar provisions. Some bread, a little tuna, a couple pieces of fruit, whatever. We just did the best we could.

We talked each time and I got to know him a little bit better. On one occasion, I learned that he had found a job, but needed money for gas. In the course of the conversation, I learned that he had driven from another town, about thirty miles away, to come and see me. When I told him that he would have had enough gas to get back and forth to work had he not made the sixty-mile round trip to my house, he didn’t quite understand what I meant.

Even though he did come by the house a few more times, I didn’t help him any more after that. I finally had to tell him not to come back to our house and seek help closer to home. He only came back once more, about a month later. I guess he thought I might have had a change of heart.

I learned that you don’t have to give a lot to help someone. Just what you have. And you don’t have to do it forever. Just for a time. Our efforts sometimes have ends as well as beginnings.

Posted in Connecticut, Life, Ministry, neighbor

A place to stay

knock“You are a priest, so you have to give me a place to stay.”

Those were the first words out of the woman’s mouth when I answered the door one evening just before dark and found her standing on our front step. We had only been at my first parish for a year to two. Even in the rolling rural hills of eastern Connecticut, a variety of people quickly found out that we lived in the parsonage next door to the church. So we got the usual procession of people looking for food or gas money, but till now never a demand for housing.

Inge introduced herself with a thick Swedish accent. She hadn’t been in America very long, found herself abused and estranged from her husband, and had nowhere to go. I think at some point we actually met her husband, but there wasn’t going to be any reconciliation. She was also Lutheran, actually a pastor of some sort herself. We were a combination of naive, compassionate, and new at this, and we had a huge house full of rooms we weren’t using, so we took her in. Our family was small, just my wife and I and our infant son — and now a boarder.

She didn’t bring much with her. Inge had little money, just a few items of clothing and personal items in a small suitcase. Her habits were a little different than ours. She liked eating bread slathered with mayonnaise and tomato sauce. On many a pasta night we found ourselves with no sauce. She also like to make sweet rolls with lots and lots and lots of butter. I seem to remember that she showered and shaved only occasionally, taking more of a continental approach to hygiene.

Inge found a job at some kind of small manufacturing company in our town, one she could walk to. She did attend worship and bible class when she didn’t have to work. She used some of her income to buy things like a VHS player, which she wanted to take back to Sweden with her. Since she was “buying American” for the moment, we saw a glaring flaw in her plan. She wasn’t actually saving anymoney to go back home.

After a few months, we decided we would help her out. She didn’t have a bank account, so we cashed her paychecks for her, withholding some and saving up for a flight back to Sweden. Within a month, we had enough for the trip. I purchased a ticket, drove her to La Guardia, and dropped her off. I don’t think we ever heard from her again.

I have helped a lot of people in a lot of different ways over the years. This was the only time we actually took someone in. It’s been a memory-stretcher to recall this story. I wasn’t journaling my life then as I do now. I definitely remember it being a less fearful and more innocent time, before the Persian Gulf conflicts, 9/11, Internet, wifi, and smart phones.

I’m not sure we would do this again. Were we foolish or faithful? Hard to say. Following Christ seems to be a mixture of both sometimes.

 

Posted in dying, Life, Ministry

You need to hear it again.

silvestri-matteo-176500The call came pretty late last night, about 10:45. I was driving, and felt my phone buzz in my pocked, but didn’t listen to the message until after I got home. “She said she thinks he’s dying.” I only live about a mile away and I didn’t want them to be alone, so I headed over to the apartment.

When I arrived, it was and it wasn’t what I expected. I’ve been with many people in hospice care for the last days and hours of their lives. I’m familiar with the shallow, irregular, rattling breathing. I just didn’t think it would happen this soon. Just hours earlier, he had been awake, conversant, signing his own documents and deciding to come home from the hospital. Hospice hadn’t even been to the house yet, and it looked like he’d be gone before they even arrived. He wasn’t conscious, but he also didn’t seem uncomfortable, which was a blessing.

A few more people arrived. All we could do was wait. Wait for a call back from hospice. Wait and wonder whether it was a wise choice to come home. Wait and pray, commending him to the Lord’s care.

With her encouragement, we left about 12:30 pm. She knew who to call if anything got out of hand. When I called back this morning, I learned he had died about an hour after we all left. Her words to me on the phone were, “I know he’s with the Lord. I just hope God accepts him.”

Without hesitation, I replied, “I have no doubt! He had faith in Christ. We just talked about that the other day when I brought him communion, He was forgiven. You don’t have to worry about that at all.”

“Thank you so much. That’s just what I needed to hear.”

If you know me at all, you know I talk about that all the time. Maybe when you’re sitting there on a Sunday and life is pretty good and you don’t have too many worries, it doesn’t register. But when the breathing stops, you feel all alone, and reality kicks in, it suddenly becomes an issue. So, you need to hear it again. If I can, I’ll be there to make sure you do.

Lately it seems like I’ve been spending a lot of time with people who get hit with stuff over and over again. What do you do for someone when the cancer keeps coming back? Or the headaches? Or the strokes? Or the flooding? I’m humbled knowing I don’t have a whole lot of answers. But I get to bring Christ, and he gives more than we ask or imagine.

Posted in aging, church, Life, Ministry

“I don’t want to be too far from church.”

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Photo by Cassie Boca on Unsplash

Over the past few weeks I’ve been spending time with families who are making some big decisions about their living situation. For a variety of reasons, they may not be able to continue living in their homes and are exploring other options, from moving in with family to assisted living and long term care. This can never be an easy decision to make. For some, the decision is being made for them by family who are taking a greater role in caring for them. For others, the handwriting is on the wall, and they know that hour is coming.

A common theme in our discussions is church. One of their concerns is not wanting to lose access to their church family, involvement and worship. Among the many financial, health and transportation issues that must be addressed, their faith life rose to the top, like cream atop the milk. Continue reading ““I don’t want to be too far from church.””

Posted in neighbor, Rant

The red sofa

IMG-7566OK, it’s really a love seat. But it is really red. And I see it every time I leave my house or come back home. Because it sits, faithfully, on my neighbor’s lawn.

If you ask me, it shouldn’t have a place in someone’s yard. It shouldn’t have a place in someone’s house, either. Three weeks ago my neighbor put it out on the curb, assuming that the garbage men would pick it up. Nope. They didn’t want it either. It has now been soaked by the rains, ignored on bulk pick up days, and endured the intense heat of the October Florida sun. Passing dogs have baptized it, bugs have taken up residence in it, and mold has begun to thrive in it.

It doesn’t seem to bother my neighbor at all. He cuts the lawn around it. He stacks weekly trash against it. It has joined his unsightly array of halloween, occult and just plain ugly lawn ornaments.

I suppose there are times in life when you need a red sofa. Like when you’re going to murder someone in your living room. Or you’re bleeding from some orifice. Maybe you’re addicted to ketchup. Think about it. Someone actually made this love seat. Someone actually bought it. And yes, now someone has set it out in the yard for all to enjoy.

Just wait — I’m going to come up with a story to go with it.

 

 

 

Posted in Life, listening, Ministry

A week on the phone

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Photo by Rohit Tandon on Unsplash

I just spent a week without (and greatly appreciating!) my office manager and assistant. She took a well deserved vacation with her husband, and will be back tomorrow. (God is good — all the time!)

That meant that I couldn’t just ignore the phone when it rang last week. If you called, that was my voice who answered, “Shepherd of the Coast Lutheran Church — this is Pastor Douthwaite.” Here are some of the responses I heard last week:

“Oh. <long pause> Nicole must not be there.”
In a thick Indian accent: “Thank you very much.” Click <hang up>
“Call this number immediately, or you will face arrest and imprisonment by the IRS for tax evasion…”
“Oh, hi Pastor. Are you going to be in the office today?” <seriously?>
“Do you have chronic back pain…?”
“Congratulations, you have just won…” Click. <I hung up.>
“Oh, hi. You’re just the person I need to talk to.”
“Hi, I’m from the Best-Ever-Media company. We’d like to send you a 37 volume DVD series to inspire your youth to more vibrant faith…” Click. <I hung up.>
“I sent you an email. Did you get it?”
“Stay on the line for important information about…” Click. <I hung up.>
“Hi. I scheduled a meeting, but don’t know if any space is available.”
“I saw you have a food pantry today.” Me: “No, I’m sorry, that’s the church next door.”

I never know what the voice on the other end is going to say. However, it just amazes me that 90% of the phone calls we receive are irrelevant to our ministry. So for a couple of hundred bucks a month, we maintain phone lines for no good reason at all!

I cut off our landline about five years ago. Neither my wife or I were making any outgoing calls. All of the inbound calls were telemarketers, surveys, robocalls and wrong numbers. The provider representative I talked with couldn’t understand why I wanted to disconnect.

I wonder if God gets any prayers like this…

Posted in Ministry

Soli Deo gloria: To God alone be the glory

Transcription of Sunday, October 15, 2017 sermon.

 

Oct 22 cover picMost of you are familiar with the name Johann Sebastian Bach. He is one of the greatest composers of all time. One thing you may not know is that at the bottom of every musical piece he composed he wrote the letters “SDG” or the words “soli Deo gloria” — to God alone be the glory. Bach wanted it to be known that the reason he composed the music was to glorify the God who made us and saved us. He never intended to be the one who got the credit, because he knew all his abilities and opportunities to compose came from God.

That is a much different approach to life than what we are used to and in the world in which we live. The world that we’re in is one of constant self-promotion. It is as if we are always on the edge of the pool saying, “Look at me! Watch me!” We jump in wanting everyone to pay attention to us. We chronicle every detail of our lives on social media. We are always asking questions like, “Do like my clothes? Do you like my haircut?” We want to be admired, acknowledged, liked, and appreciated. At some level we want glory.

Today we are going to work from two scriptures. We heard them earlier. One is from Matthew 5 where Jesus is talking about us being salt and light in the world, something very different. Jesus says, “Let your light shine before others that they may see your good works” — and here’s the punch line — “and give give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5:13).

The other verse is from 1 Corinthians 10:31. Paul has spent quite a bit of time in this chapter talking about how what you do affects the lives of other people. It’s not just about you. You always need to keep others in mind and keep God in mind. “Whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” Soli Deo gloria. To God alone belongs the glory.

Even for the good things we do. Even for some of the significant things we do. That might not sound fair to you. You are certainly entitled to your opinion. But here’s where God is coming from — Isaiah 42:8. God says, “I am the Lord, that is my name. My glory I give to no other.”

Whether you like it or not, God is not sharing. God is not about to share his glory with any other god, with any idol, with any person he has created, with any power that exists in the world, or anybody else who has any fame or notoriety. God says, “I will not give my glory to anybody else.” Soli Deo gloria. To God alone belongs the glory.

There are some very interesting stories in scripture when God corrected people’s course when they sought glory for themselves. These are worth looking at this morning.

One of them happens not long after the flood, way back towards the beginning of the world. You remember that God had flooded the world to destroy it and start over. After cover water covers the earth, there’s nobody left except for Noah and his wife, their three sons and their wives, and two of all the different animals. When the waters subside and the ark comes to rest on dry land, it’s time to start over. It’s time to spread out in the world and multiply and fill it with people. That’s what God planned.

Not too long after, some of the people got together and said, “You know, we can make bricks. Let’s build ourselves a city. A place where we can live and raise our families and be secure. We can build a tower. We’ll build this tower in the middle, a really big tower that people can see from far off. We’ll make a name for ourselves. We’ll be somebody and the world will never forget us.

God’s response to their project is, “I don’t think so. That’s not what you’re here for.” For the first time in history, God jams their communication. He confuses their language so they can’t understand each other. So they have to separate. They have to go live in different places. They have to have families and multiply and fill the earth. They were not there to glorify themselves. To God alone belongs the glory.

The other story comes from a time not too long after Jesus lived on the earth, not too long after the resurrection and Pentecost when the Holy Spirit is poured out. There is a king named Herod. Not the same king that tried to kill all the babies in Bethlehem. It’s one of his sons, who is ruling a part of Israel towards the north. He’s a good politician. He’s doing well at working both with the Roman empire and with the Jewish people. He would dress up in ornate robes, wonderfully expensive robes. He would sit on the throne and he would give these speeches that amazed people. On one occasion, he gives a speech that everybody enthralled. When it’s done, the people say, “This isn’t just a man. He speaks with the voice of a god!” Luke tells us that immediately an angle of the Lord struck him down because he did not give God the glory. And, he was eaten by worms and breathed his last.

I don’t about you. But right now I feel like giving God the glory!

It’s not hard to find yourself in a situation like that. All you need is one person to say, “You’re doing a really good job.” Or one person who says, “We really appreciate the things that you do.” All you need is somebody to give you a pat on the back and you begin to think, “I’m not so bad after all. In fact, I’m pretty good. And I do some pretty good things. And I deserve some appreciation.” You completely forget who you are and what you are like. You completely forget about who made you, put you here, gives you life and breath and everything. You completely forget about your sin and how that affects your relationship with God. You’re not worried about that at all. You’re getting the appreciation and love you desire and it feels really good.

At that moment, what you need is an Isaiah 6 experience. Isaiah 6 is the account of the prophet suddenly finding himself in the presence of God. He finds himself in the throne room of God. This is the place where God’s people never wanted to be. If the cloud fo God’s presence is on the mountain, I’m not going up there. If the cloud of his presence fills the tabernacle or the temple, we’re going in there. When the presence of God was on the mountain of transfiguration, the disciples fell flat on their faces — they were scared to death. Nobody wants to go into that room into the presence of God. But Isaiah is there and he is overwhelmed. The presence of God fills that place. He’s on the throne. His robes are everywhere. Flaming creatures called Seraphim are flying back and forth. They’re singing, “Holy, holy, holy.” The ground is shaking, there’s smoke in the air. Isaiah says, “I’m doomed. I’m a sinful person. I come from sinful people. I live among sinful people. There is no way I can survive in the presence of God.” He knows that the glory of God is overwhelming.

Then something significant happens. One of the seraphim goes to the altar, takes an ember burning there, and touches it to Isaiah’s lips. He says, “You sins have been atoned for. You sins are forgiven.” That is the game changer. Now, Isaiah is holy. He can be in the presence of a holy God. He has been forgiven. His sins have been wiped away. He is somebody who can have a relationship with God.

Where’s our Isaiah 6 experience? When we get a little too full of ourselves, how can we bring ourselves back down?

We do it all the time. We come to worship. We kneel at the altar in the presence of the Lord. He is there. That’s his body broken for us, his blood poured out for us. It’s the presence of our Savior, right there on the altar. It is meant to humble us and make us realize we should not be here. We have no right to spend time in the presence of God. The same thing happens for us. Something from the altar touches our lips. His body and blood and the words are, “Your forgiven. Your sins have been atoned for. You are holy, too.” Your are righteous through faith in Jesus Christ. His death has atoned for your sins. You can have a relationship with God. You can be there with God. You can glorify God. Never underestimate the power of the moment at the altar when our Lord comes to you in his word and his sacrament.

What does that look like? What does it look like to have a life that glorifies God? What does it mean to let your light shine so that people will see you and glorify God?

First, in our worship we glorify God. Here, when we come to worship we hear the words of God, the amazing words that we are forgiven, and we give him our thanks and our praise. We confess and we are forgiven, and we glorify him because we know he’s the only reason we’re here. He made us, he gave us our abilities, he died for us, he rose for us, he saved us, he’d done it all for us. He gets all the credit. In our worship, we give God all the credit and glorify him.

We also glorify him when we simply do our best. That’s right, the pursuit of excellence in your life glorifies God. People see what you do and they are led to thank and praise God. So whatever it is that you do — your work, your volunteer hours, your school, in your community, in your home — whatever you do, give it your best. God has made you and gifted you and empowered you to do everything you can do, so that this world will see it and will praise God.

The third way we glorify God is just to be out there. You are the light of the world. Jesus doesn’t say, “You should be the light of the world,” but “You are the light of the world.” It’s a very dark place out there. I don’t have to tell you that. It’s dark in homes where there’s abuse, disease and death, where fires rage out of control, or flood waters won’t go down, or where people are depressed, worried and feel like the world is closing in on them. It’s dark out there.

God has shone his light into our hearts to give us hope. We take that with us and wherever you go you bring with you what you’ve received from God — forgiveness, hope, and life. Just by being out there in the world, Peter writes, “Even the pagans — people who aren’t associated with God at all — will see you and glorify God.”

Soli Deo gloria. God alone receives all the glory.

Posted in Life

I never had to register.

selective-service-form-1Just about every week, I speak to someone who has served our nation in the military. Some were career. Some enlisted. Some were drafted. Some were deployed. Some served stateside. I have listened with great interest to those who fought in World War II, Korea, Viet Nam, and the Gulf wars. It is a life and a world I’ve never experienced.

In 1975, as my eighteenth birthday approached, I was under the impression that I still had to register with the selective service. Even though there had been no draft lottery since 1972, there was still registration. Up until March 29, 1975, when President Ford ended registration.

I remember calling information and asking for a number to call, to find out what I needed to do to register. The man who answered told me that they were in the process of packing up and cleaning out the office. There was no more registration.

Registration would resume a few years later, but I fell into a narrow window of time — those born between March 29, 1957 and December 31, 1959 — who were exempt from Selective Service registration. At one point during my senior year in high school, I had entertained the idea of pursing an appointment to the Air Force Academy. But my eyesight was poor enough that I wouldn’t qualify to fly, so I pursued other college options.

Our church’s ministry to veterans and their families has given me the chance to meet and talk with many who have served in many different ways. From infantry to pilots to helmsmen to electronics specialists to gunners to intelligence to chaplaincy to accounting to medical corps, they all have stories to tell. And some they do not tell. Some have killed. Some have lost friends and family. Some suffered physical or mental injury. Others were discharged unharmed.

I sometimes wonder how my life would be different had I been drafted or enlisted. What would I have learned? What would I have experienced? Would I have good memories? Or nightmares?

My father was in the Army Air Corps from 1943-45. He flew with a B-17 rescue team in the South Pacific. I recently asked him how many rescues he was a part of. He said, “None.” They never actually had to rescue anyone. With the dropping of two atomic bombs the war came to an end before he experienced combat. My dad wrote down a very detailed record of every place he went while he was in the service. I have able to find them all using Google Maps. Some of the places were nothing more than atolls in the middle of a very large ocean, where makeshift airstrips had been constructed.

Many of the youth I’ve worked with enlisted for military service upon graduating from high school. A few of our current youth are hopefully waiting for an appointment to a military academy. We pray for them by name each and every week. We know there is no guarantee of a safe return. But we are very grateful for their service.

Posted in Life, questions, waiting

A long, long line

img_7631.jpg“Hey honey, what do you want to do this afternoon?”

“I don’t know. The house is clean, lawn’s cut, dog bathed, laundry’s done, bills paid, supper’s in the crock pot. Not much going on around here. Let’s go wait in the car rider line at school for a couple of hours.”

Said no one ever. Except, apparently, in our community. Elementary school dismisses at 3:30 pm. The first cars arrive to get in line to pick up their kids at about 2:15 pm. By 2:45, there are fifty cars in line, on the south side, on the north side and on the east side of the school. I can’t even imagine how long the line is at 3, never mind 3:30 when the fist child walks out the door. No matter what you do, you’re in for a long wait, on a hot afternoon, with the car and AC running all that time.

My math brain wonders what the optimal arrival time is. It’s probably not the first to arrive, nor the last. There must be a sweet spot where you aren’t too far back and don’t have to arrive absurdly early. If I had to do that, I would hack that system to find the arrival time that actually made for the shortest wait time.

However, I would last about one day in that line before I started screaming and tearing my hair out. Our sweet spot was to let our kids ride the bus and for us it worked out well. That plus a little bit of extended day made mornings and afternoons easier. Those might not be the best choices for some, but I’m amazed how many have the free time and the patience to sit that long in the car rider line!

I won’t even talk about walking to school, because then I’ll start to sound really old…

But I will wonder out loud, “What’s the longest line I’ve ever waited in?” Interesting question. Airport? It felt longer but probably wasn’t more than an hour to check in or go through security. Disney? Probably 90 minutes for a ride. International immigration? I think I did a few 2 hour waits for a visa and passport stamp. 

But those were isolated incidents. It would be tough to do that every day.