Twenty minutes or so before worship began last week, a good friend of mine asked, “Do you have time for a quick theological question?”
My heart rate increased, adrenaline began pumping as I reveled in that moment. Even in those moments when I should focus on the hour ahead of me, I love a good question about God, faith, Jesus or the church. In fact, when someone asks less specifically, “Can I ask you a question?” I will often reply, “I hope it’s a bible question!”
Many questions aren’t biblical or theological. In fact, they are usually anything but. For example,
“Do you know the copier access code?”
“Do we have any more garbage bags?”
“Whatever happened to __________?” (Fill in anyone’s name.)
“Where do you go to get your car fixed?”
“Who is that person I saw at church yesterday? He was older, had gray hair, wore glasses…”
“Why is it so cold/hot/noisy/dark/bright in here?”
“Where can I find a roll of toilet paper?”
“Why didn’t I get any offering envelopes?”
“When is the dumpster going to get emptied?”
“Can I use the fellowship hall for a birthday party in June?”
“Who left this food in the refrigerator?”
“What happened to the food that was in the refrigerator?”
“Why isn’t there anything on that bulletin board?”
“When did you get glasses?”
“Where are your glasses?”
Do I have time for a theological question? Most certainly, yes!
The first parish where I served as a pastor was Prince of Peace Lutheran Church in Coventry, CT. We lived there for five years, from 1986-1991. The other day I quickly jotted down a few memories that popped into my head.
We had two Labrador retrievers, Gabriel (yellow) and Rachel (chocolate), plus two cats, Fred and Ginger. I would hit baseballs into the woods for the dogs to retrieve.
I loved cutting and splitting firewood. Great exercise, and we loved the heat from the wood burning stove in the winter.
The pews in the church had welded steel frames and wooden planks, crafted by some of the founders of the church. We had kneelers, too, which created quite a sound when they all fell to the floor at the same time for confession.
I got my first personal computer in Connecticut. Monochrome display, 5-1/4 inch floppy disk, no internet at that time. I just used it for word processing.
We often took the kids to the barns at the University of Connecticut. Most were open to the public, so we walked through rows of cows, pens full of sheep and goats, and fields filled with horses. The pigs were off-limits, though. Too many people tried to take the piglets. If we didn’t want to go to UConn, we just walk down the road to a small farm where horses, goats and chickens would come to greet us at the fence.
We lived in the church parsonage which sat on four acres right next to another four acres where the church was located. My two oldest children and I would often walk what we call the “‘benture trail,” along the boundary of our property which ran right up to the woods.
The obstetrician who brought our older daughter into the world forgave the part of our bill that insurance wouldn’t cover, in exchange for some “special intentions.” I was grateful, but to tell you the truth, I didn’t even know what that was. (They are intercessory prayers for someone, I think.)
The parsonage was a two-story, five bedroom, 2-1/2 bath, 2,600 sq. ft. home with a full basement and garage beneath. We moved in with a baby (Adam was four months old), a bed, a dresser, a crib, a table and a couple of chairs. We never never came close to fully furnishing that house. We did buy some antique oak dressers that we are still using today.
In the winter, those who smoked would stand in the narthex to stay warm, flicking ashes into the corner where they thought no one would notice.
The church wasn’t that big, averaging about 70 per Sunday in attendance. I still remember a whole bunch of the names: Thurber, Edmonds, Garay, Jeram, Sheehan, Ultzen, Wiebusch, Sans, Dollak, Davis, Burger, Dwyer, Bement, Ausburger, Underwood and Potterton. (That’s amazing!)
Not bad recall for events from over thirty years ago!
Either I’m becoming more observant, or new birds are suddenly in my field of vision. Today, simply walking Samson, we saw a few of these:
A Wood Stork is the only stork native to North America. They slowly stalk but quickly snap up fish, frogs and whatever else they can find in swamps, ponds and today, roadside ditches.
Birdwatchersdigest.com nominates them for “ugliest bird,” but I think that’s a bit harsh. The eating must have been good today, since this one hardly looked up when I paused to take his (and his friend’s) picture.
I forget where I first saw the headline, “Google knows a whole lot about you,” but it did make me wonder, “How much does Google know about me?”
I’m sure I don’t know everything Google knows about me. But just off the top of my head, I know it knows
Where I’ve been and when
What I have purchased
What I’ve thought about purchasing
What I’m thinking about buying
Who I’m related to
Who I know
Who I’ve worked for
Who I’ve worked with
Who I went to school with
What I like to eat and drink
Much about my health and health history
And a whole bunch of other information that I have put out there in my blog, sermons, social media posts, product reviews and pictures I’ve taken.
Scary? I don’t know. I don’t even think much about it. Maybe I should. Maybe I’ve just gotten used to it.
Or maybe I’ve long known someone else who knows even more about me. God.
He knew me before I was born. He’s got the map of my DNA – he made it. He knows my thoughts, desires and dreams. He knows my fears and doubts. He knows my feelings and emotions. He knows my coming and going. He knows when I get up and when I go to bed each night.
Not only does he know my past, but he knows my future, too. He knows what my day will be like. He knows how long I’ve got to live. He even knows my cause of death.
The bible calls this being “fully known” by God. There’s a great deal of comfort in that. I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to tell God what I think he wants to hear. I don’t have to be afraid that he’ll find out what I’ve done. He already knows.
In fact, because God knows me so well, he helps me get to know myself better. The better I get to know him, the more I learn about me.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I remember my mom telling me how much she enjoyed opening up and writing in a new notebook, journal or even just a pad of paper. She loved the feel of the untouched pages, the blank sheets and the unlimited possibilities. She must have passed that love down to me. I love new notebook day!
Yesterday was new journal day for me. As I do every three months or so, I started writing on page one of a new Leuchtturm 1917 notebook. This one is dotted. I have used blank and lined journals before, but I find that dotted gives me the most flexibility.
Inside the front cover of my journal
I set up my journal by writing my “mantras” in the front cover. My mantras are little pithy phrases that guide my life. I also record the beginning date and the starting scripture. You see, I record my thoughts here as I read cover-to-cover through the bible. So each volume covers a portion of the word as well as my experiences and thoughts along the way.
I set up the pages from the back with my prayer list. This is where I keep track, so I don’t miss any of the ways God has answered my prayers.
A journal is a place to explore ideas, record my days, track some prayers and remember my blessings. I don’t worry about being legible. After all, I’m the one who reads the daily entries. But this record of my days and interactions, as well as research and ideas, will probably outlive me.
I wonder who else will ever sit down to read through my journals?
Persistent. Determined. Ingenious. Clever. Acrobatic. These are some but certainly aren’t all the adjectives I could use to describe the latest squirrel to defeat my latest squirrel-proof bird feeder.
He had to scamper up that 1/2″ pole, then latch his back feet onto a non-moving part of the feeder, leaving his front feet free to grab the tasty sunflower seeds. In theory, the outer sleeve of the feeder would slide over the opening, denying him access to the seeds. In practice, though, he had no problem enjoying as many seeds as he wanted.
I haven’t given up yet. The cardinals want me to keep trying. It’s on. Let’s see if there isn’t a way to thwart his (and many friends’) efforts!
I’m not sure why this popped into my mind this morning, but I wondered to myself, “What do I still have from before I got married?” My wife and I are coming up on our 36th anniversary this May. Do I own anything that is older than that? Not much.
My Strad, still in its original case.
First thing on the list: my trumpet. A silver plated model 43 Bach Stradivarius Bb. I bought it in 1979 when I had just graduated from college and was working my first job at Bell Labs in West Long Branch, NJ. It was my second Strad. My first was a brass plated horn that my dad bought for me when I was in ninth grade, I think. But someone broke into my car in the Bell Labs parking lot and stole it my first summer in NJ. I still remember going to Red Bank music where they had a whole bunch or horns in stock and playing them till I found the one I decided to buy for $600. (I think they list for about $3,000 today!) It has served me well for forty-one years.
Next: some tools. I’ve got some metric wrenches I purchased when I owned a 1980 Volkswagon Rabbit that had a diesel engine. There wasn’t much to that engine, but it got over 50 miles to the gallon when I was at the seminary. In fact, I could drive from the seminary in Ft. Wayne, IN to my parents home in Philadelphia on one tank of fuel. I think I bought these to switch out the glow plugs one winter. I’m not sure what else I used them for back then, but I still use them now.
I’ve also got a few pots and mixing bowls my mom bought for me when I moved into my first apartment. She got me a small set of Revereware. We still have and use one small sauce pan and a couple of the steel mixing bowls. These items would actually predate the trumpet by about six months.
I’ve probably got a few photo prints from before I got married, but I’m not sure where they are in the house. Perhaps a theological few books from my first two years at the seminary, too. But that’s about it.
If at all possible, I try to there when church members are scheduled to arrive for surgery. More often than not, their assigned arrival time is 6:00 am.
Not a problem. I am a morning person. I’m up at that time most days anyway. Most recently though, I and my parishioners (and a few other folks) arrived before the registration person! No problem. We had a few minutes to pray for the doctor and nurses, for the procedure and for the patient. “The prayer of a righteous person has great power” (James 5:16).
I know from experience that things happen quickly. Small talk can wait. We get to the prayer, seek the Lord and call on His name, and then we can converse about the day, the recovery and the future afterwards. Before you know it, you will hear their name called, and they will disappear behind a door with a nurse into the preparation area.
Over the years, I haven’t seen a lot of other clergy at the same-day surgery waiting area. All I know is that those are some of the best moments for ministry. No one pretends to have it all together. We all humbly kneel at the throne of the king, who also happens to be the Great Physician.
I hope someone will be there to pray with me. If nothing else, just to remind me that I’m in good hands.
You have no doubt heard someone at church say, “We must have a strong children’s and youth ministry.” Why? “They are the future of the church!” Many hours are spent discussing how to attract younger families with children. A United Methodist congregation in Grove Cottage, Minnesota decided to shut down one of its campuses and relaunch that church to reach a younger demographic. Part of that process included asking the current members, most of whom were older, to attend another church for twelve to eighteen months. The approach and the reaction made national news.
The many different sides of that story does prompt the question, “Who is the future of the church?” I think it depends on the context. While children and youth may be the future of the Church, they are probably not the future of our church. You see, they grow up, go to college and move to where they find employment. We pray that they will be a part of the Church at large, but they will not grow up to be a part of our congregation.
Many of the people moving to Florida and our community are older. They are retired. They are tired of northern winters. And they are the future of our church. They are the new members, leaders, voices and teachers in our congregation. Yes, there are young families who move to our area, too. It’s an affordable place to live. But they are not necessarily the majority of the folks who come to visit and join our churches. That’s just the way it is here.
That is not necessarily a negative thing. In the pages of scripture, we find God staking the future of the church on a variety of people of different ages. Abraham was 75 when he got the call to move. Samuel grew up in the church. Moses was 80 when he was told to go to Pharaoh. David was a young shepherd when anointed the king of Israel. Josiah ascended to the throne when he was eight years old. Jeremiah had a job before he was born! Noah was 500 years old when he built the ark.
I love the babies, children and youth of the church. Yes, I am in my element when holding the infants, playing with the toddlers, teaching the middle schoolers, serving alongside the high school youth and praying the graduates off to college or the military. But I am also grateful for those who come with a lifetime of managerial, financial, educational and musical experience that fund, lead and drive the ministry of the church.
It’s ironic that some churches with a strong youth emphasis shuffle their young off to nursery and children’s church. It’s also ironic that those who want young families in church get irritated when the little ones get squirmy, noisy and leave Cheerio crumbs in the pew. Don’t you know how Jesus responded when the disciples tried to keep the kids away?
The future of the church will always be the gathering of people who need to hear the gospel, receive God’s forgiveness and be equipped to take that blessing back to their world. There are no age, height, income or experience restrictions on that experience.
Actually, the future of the church is “a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!” (Rev. 7:9-11).
