Category: story

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A New Bend in the Road

A little over twenty seven years ago, we moved from Cincinnati to Rock Hill, South Carolina. At that time we said that we were never moving again. Famous last words! We have just moved into a new house. The house and yard had become more than we could handle and we decided we needed a smaller place. Added to that were some repair issues that had become expensive due to a plumbing mishap. Did I mention that I hate plumbing?

After a few months of sort of looking, but sort of not, we got serious and put our house on the market. Knowing that we were looking for a smaller place meant that we had to let a lot of things go. We began to look at all the stuff that had accumulated over the years. I had inherited the “maybe I can use this someday” gene from my father, so there was quite a bit. The challenge was to pare the things from a 1500 square foot, three bedroom. two bath home with a dining room, garage, back patio, shed and a half acre yard down to where they would fit into an 850 square foot, two bedroom, one bath house with less than a quarter acre lot.

I made numerous trips to charitable organizations and to our county’s waste/recycling center. Facebook Messenger became our friend. It was hard to let go of many of the things, especially furniture. Fortunately, we made some money from selling much of the furniture and a great deal of it went to people who would get good use of it. One couple bought a dresser and were going to donate it to a local women’s shelter, and we sold a rocker and footstool to a couple that was expecting their first child. That was a blessing to us. Our son and daughter-in-law, and daughter and son-in-law have been an amazing help with the purging and the planning.

We moved into the house the week after Thanksgiving. I have again made numerous trips to recycling and charitable places. As it turned out, we used a lot of cardboard boxes and also had to do more downsizing. It’s been a busy week and a half, and there is still furniture to put together and positioned, art to hang, and stuff to put away. I’m going to hold off on the yard until the spring.

It was hard to leave a place where we made so many good memories. Fortunately we can carry those memories with us and we will make new ones. We are closer to our church community, and to many other places and activities we have been a part of. The move has been stressful at times, and there were even a few times when I wondered if it was worth it. At those times, I could sense the Father saying, “I got this.” Jan and I are looking forward to getting to know our neighbors and learning to love them well, and to what lies ahead of us on this part of the journey.

We’re not moving again. I guess I shouldn’t be saying that should I?

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On Autumn

Autumn, or Fall, is one my two most favorite seasons, the other being Spring. I enjoy the cooler temperatures and the smell of smoke that often hangs in the air. In some way, even the decay of the leaves and the bare branches are beautiful and speak of the renewal that is to come.

The thing I like best about Fall is the beauty of the leaves as they change from green to different shades of red, yellow, and orange. The other day, Jan and I took a trip up into the high country of North Carolina and visited Banner Elk and Blowing Rock. The drive up was beautiful, as we saw the hues change from green with a bit of other colors to almost completely the colors of fall. As we drove from Banner Elk to Blowing Rock in the late afternoon, I was struck by the beauty of the fading sunlight as it filtered through the yellow and orange leaves.

The image that came to my mind was that of the elven realm of Lothlorien and the golden leaves of the Mallorn trees. As i continued to drive, I could imagine that place as a place where only beauty dwelt and where no evil could enter. I could have continued on that drive for much longer than we did. At some point we had to get off the road and return to the world as we know it, much as the ringbearers had to leave the realm of the Elves and continue on their journey.

Autumn reminds me that, as I go through this life that is often filled with decay, I can know that the golden hued forest we passed through is a picture of the time when all of creation will be renewed, and when there will be a land where no evil will enter, and only good will reign. It will be a land of unspeakable beauty and love that the best tales of humans can only allude to. It will be the realm of the True King, where there is no night, no pain or sickness, and no death. All tears will be wiped away, and everything sad will become untrue.

I look forward to seeing that renewal come to pass.

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Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – The Younger Son

This was first posted back in 2011. There are a couple of minor edits.

Today, I’m starting a four part series on the story of the Prodigal Son. The story of the prodigal is a story of God’s grace to his wayward children when they come home. It is also a story with a number of layers that speak to us in different ways at different times in our lives. Henri Nouwen wrote a book titled, The Return of the Prodigal Son, based on his reflections on a painting by Rembrandt. My ramblings come largely from reading this book.

The first person we encounter in the story is the younger son. This son comes to his father and asks for his part of the inheritance that would come to him after his father dies. This is more than just a request to get money due him earlier than he would normally receive it. The ones who heard this story would have been outraged at the attitude of the younger son. In effect, he was saying to his father, “I reject you and everything you stand for, your culture, your religion, everything. I wish you were dead!” In a culture where rebellious children could be stoned to death, this was a dangerous and devastating statement for the son to make and for the father to hear. The father however, decided to give his son what he asked for. He handed over the money and said goodbye. As a father, I can imagine the heartbreak he went through as one of his sons turned his back on everything and left.

The younger son went off to a “distant country,” where he squandered his inheritance on parties and whores. He was completely deaf to the voice that would have reminded him of his father’s love and of what he had been taught. In short, he forgot who he was. I would imagine that most of us can see ourselves in the younger son in some way. Some may have wandered into a life of dissipation and come out of it. Others may have experimented with some things but not gone all the way in. In my own life, I was drawn in to things that were not good for me, although I never wandered completely away. Of course, there are some out there who would consider me a prodigal today.

There is another way to be the younger son, a way that many, many more have fallen into. That is the way of forgetting whose child we are and trying to get our identity from other things or other people. That is the way I most identify with the prodigal. Whether it’s from a job, a skill, a style, or a group of people, we try to prove our worth by other things than what our Father says. Our culture says that what is important is how you dress, what job you have, what kind of car you drive, how much money you make, or what group you hang out with. Unfortunately, those things become like the husks the prodigal wished to eat while feeding the pigs. Trying to find our worth and identity in any thing of this world is a futile exercise, leading to emptiness.

Fortunately for the prodigal, he did come to his senses and remember who he was. I can see him slapping himself on the forehead, and saying, “What am I doing here? I’m not a pig farmer! I’m a son of a father who has a lot of money and food! Why am I starving here?” So, after coming to his senses he returned home. He still didn’t completely remember who we was though. Or better, he didn’t understand completely the kind of person his father was. His plan was to go home and convince his father to give him a job. He didn’t believe his father would accept him back as a son. We sometimes also forget who we are dealing with when we go to our Father. We believe the lies that we can’t be his child if we do certain things, or that we have to do something to get ourselves back into his good graces. We feel we have to “get right with God.” We forget that our Father loves us and always accepts us.

The son returns and finds himself in the midst of a homecoming better than he could have imagined. He can’t get his prepared speech out before his father welcomes him back and throws the biggest party the neighborhood has ever seen. So it is when we come to our senses and remember who we are. We are beloved children of the Creator of the universe. He is pleased with us, and there is absolutely nothing we can do to cause his love to decrease, and nothing we can do to increase his love. He holds us in his hands and nothing can pull us out. Period.

Remember who you are. If you’ve forgotten, your Father is looking for your return so he can lavish his grace and love on you.

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Blast From the Past: More

It’s another day, so I’ll continue my story.

About three years ago (now about fifteen years), God started doing some things in me that would change the way I saw life and ministry. Through a “chance” look at a magazine, I discovered TheOoze.com and immediately began to read the articles and enter into the discussions. I became aware that there were a lot of others out there that just didn’t quite fit in the cubbyholes that “church” tried to put us in. I began to read authors outside of what I knew as mainstream Christianity, people like Brian McLaren, Leonard Sweet, Phillip Yancey, Mike Yaconelli, John Fischer, Rob Bell, N.T. Wright, and others.

God began to show me that at least part of what I had been taught and believed was not Biblical, but was simply a part of the culture of mid to late twentieth century America. So, now my rebellious spirit had a legitimate focus. Now, I saw myself as sort of a “missionary to the fundamentalists”. I began to teach some of these things to my middle school Bible classes. I tried to convey to them that Christianity is more than just mentally assenting to certain propositions and following certain rules. Hopefully some of them got it and will spread the subversiveness.

Unfortunately, this chapter in my life was to come to a rather abrupt end. The school decided to basically eliminate all the middle school teaching positions and give those classes to the high school teachers. They also decided to eliminate the athletic director position, and since I was both a middle school teacher and the athletic director, my contract was not removed.

More to come…

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Thursday

This Easter season, I’m putting up some posts from 2010.

From The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe:

A howl and gibber of dismay went up from the creatures when they first saw the great Lion pacing towards them, and for a moment the Witch herself seemed to be struck with fear. Then she recovered herself and gave a wild, fierce laugh.
“The fool!” she cried. “The fool has come. Bind him fast.”
Lucy and Susan held their breaths waiting for Aslan’s roar and his spring upon his enemies. But it never came. Four hags, grinning and leering, yet also (at first) hanging back and half afraid of what they had to do, had approached him. “Bind him, I say!” repeated the White Witch. The hags made a dart at him and shrieked with triumph when they found that he made no resistance at all. Then others–evil dwarfs and apes–rushed in to help them and between them they rolled the huge Lion round on his back and tied all his four paws together, shouting and cheering as if they had done something brave, though, had the Lion chose, one of those paws could have been the death of them all. But he made no noise, even when the enemies, straining and tugging, pulled the cords so tight that they cut into his flesh. Then they began to drag him towards the Stone Table.
“Stop!” said the Witch. “Let him first be shaved.”
Another roar of mean laughter went up from her followers as an ogre with a pair of shears came forward and squatted down by Aslan’s head. Snip-snip-snip went the shears and masses of curling gold began to fall to the ground. Then the ogre stood back and the children, watching from their hiding-place, could see the face of Aslan looking all small and different without its mane. The enemies also saw the difference.
“Why, he’s only a great cat after all!” cried one.
“Is that what we were afraid of?” said another.
And they surged round Aslan jeering him, saying things like “Puss, Puss! Poor Pussy.” and “How many mice have you caught to-day, Cat?” and “Would you like a saucer of mill, Pussums?”
“Oh how can they?” said Lucy, tears streaming down her cheeks. “The brutes, the brutes!” for now that the first shock was over the shorn face of Aslan looked to her braver, and more beautiful, and more patient than ever.

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Blast From the Past: The Bible

This was first posted on August 28, 2008.

In Eat This Book, Eugene Peterson describes how the King James Bible is still a best seller almost four hundred years after its initial publication, even though the English in the King James is a far cry from the English used in twenty first century America. I wonder why.

I’ve heard all the talk about the KJV being a best seller because it is the only translation that is God’s inspired and preserved word. I don’t think that’s the reason at all.

I believe that the fact that the KJV is still a best seller has more to do with the way most people see the Bible these days than in anything special about the language that is used. The Bible is seen by many Christians as a depository of “timeless truths” that can be pulled out and used whenever they are needed. Some see it as a rule book for life or a sort of owner’s manual that they can go to and find rules and procedures for the things they do. Others search out promises and use them as something akin to magic words to try to get God to do what they want. Still others read Scripture out of a sense of duty, because someone told them that to be a good Christian they have to read the Bible every day.

What all these reasons have in common is a lack of desire to really let God’s revelation of himself and the story of his people get inside them. I know from personal experience that it is easy to read the Bible on a regular basis and not be changed. I’ve studied Scripture (in Bible college I got A’s on both my theology written and oral exams). I learned the inductive, deductive, and any other ductive methods of Bible study. Those things really didn’t have much of an impact on my spiritual growth. I knew a lot of information, but it really didn’t mean that much.

Peterson tells a story of an adult class at his church that was studying the book of Galatians. His purpose was to remind the people of their freedom in Christ. Peterson noticed that the class was more interested in their coffee and conversation than they were with the Scripture. This frustrated him until he got the idea of taking the Greek words of the original and putting them in modern American English. He writes that very quickly the coffee was forgotten in the excitement of seeing the revelation of God in words that they were familiar with and could understand, words that they used every day. Peterson notes that the New Testament was written in the common Greek of the day – street language.

I think the reason many people buy and read the King James is that it is in a style of English that they don’t use in their day-to-day lives, and can therefore be kept separate. It’s part of the division between “sacred” and “secular” that many have to keep God from messing with their routine. It’s also useful as a sort of “code” that only the “sanctified” can understand. (I’ve noticed that a large part of some sermons is reading the King James and then translating it into modern English so the congregation can understand).

I believe that the Bible is not a book to be studied the way one would study a textbook or manual. It is not a collection of facts about God or a book of regulations and procedures. It is God’s story of himself and his dealings in this world, of how he is building a Kingdom and restoring all things, and of how he will finally bring about that restoration completely. It is a story that invites us to enter in, to join our story with God’s story. As we enter into this story we learn, in real ways, how to become like the Savior and King the story points to.

To do this, to enter into God’s story and open ourselves to being transformed by it, we must have this story in a language we can understand and relate to. For most people the KJV doesn’t fill the bill.

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The Week Begins

This was first posted on March 16, 2008.

The first thing they did was go into the city and find a donkey for him to ride on. This was the first indication that today was going to be different. On the way, one said to the other, “I wonder why the rabbi wants a donkey to ride on. Why not just walk like he usually does?” “I don’t know. This is another one of those things I don’t understand. I wonder what kind of problems we’ll run into.”

As they were untying the donkey, the owner came out and demanded to know what they thought they were doing. “The Lord needs it.” said the disciples. The owner replied, “I see. Go on and take it then.” “That was easier than I thought it would be”, the two said to each other as they went back to where the Master waited.

When they got there, they noticed that a larger than usual crowd had gathered. The disciples put their cloaks on the donkey to make a comfortable seat. As the group started toward the city, some in the crowd began to spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches off the trees and laid them down in front of the donkey. The crowd began to shout, “Hosanna, to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!” The shouting continued and became louder as the crowd neared the city.

As the procession continued and grew, the disciples started to talk. “Do you hear what they’re saying?” “The people are really behind him.” This is it. The Kingdom is going to be restored.” Yeah, we’ll finally be out from under those pagan Romans.”

When the group reached the city, people were asking, “Who is this?” The answer came back, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth”. Some of the religious leaders, worried that Roman soldiers might be drawn to disperse such a large crowd and bothered by what the people were shouting, said to Jesus, “Tell these people to be quiet!” Jesus replied, “If they keep quiet, the stones around you will begin to shout. The disciples chuckled at the way the rabbi put them in their place.

The crowd continued to the Temple, where some in the group were sure the Master would begin the rebellion that would finally re-establish David’s kingdom in its rightful place. They watched in awe and wonder as Jesus went into the temple area and began turning over the money tables, letting the doves and sheep out of their cages, and just generally causing havoc. The disciples thought, “Now what’s he doing? I know the moneychangers and animal sellers were cheating people, but that probably isn’t the best way to handle things.”

As they left the city for the night, they all wondered, “What would the week bring?”

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The Larger Story

This past summer, when the wildfires hit Colorado, John Eldredge and a friend were having a meal together. They were discussing the fires and the possibility of being directly affected. They talked about what they thought Jesus was saying through everything. They both said, “Trust the Larger Story.”

This is a good thing to do throughout life in general. We live in a world that is broken, and we deal with broken people. Not only that, we are broken ourselves. Stuff happens in our day-to-day lives and all around the world. Not a day goes by that we don’t hear or read about tragedy and death. Sometimes we are the ones experiencing those things. We get sick, jobs are lost, friends disappoint. Sometimes we just struggle with living. But, that is not the whole story.

The story is not about us. We are not the heroes. We are living in God’s story, the story of a Kingdom and the restoration of all creation. It is a much larger story that spans eternity. We are in that story, and we all have a part to play, whether big or small. It is that story that gives us hope and encouragement.. The thing we need to do is take our eyes off ourselves and focus on Jesus and what he is doing. That’s the hard part. We tend to be so wrapped up in what is happening to us in that moment that we forget that there is more going on than what we can see with our limited vision.

A few weeks ago, Dan Edelen at Cerulean Sanctum wrote a good post about Romans 8:28. In this post he spoke of the good for which God works all things, and the fact that the things that happen to us don’t always seem to fit into this verse. Dan asks,

“What if the Creator’s intention for ‘those who love God’ isn’t primarily for the individual crushed by circumstance? What if the ‘those’ consists of the greater mass of Christendom?”

 What if the intention is for the overall good of the Kingdom? The early church believed that the Kingdom spread through their suffering, just as it had been inaugurated in Jesus’ suffering on the cross and his resurrection. Believers who have suffered for Christ through the centuries have understood this. Here in the West we have a hard time grasping this concept. Our vision of our faith is extremely personal.

Remember that the Larger Story began long before any of us arrived, and it will continue to be played out long after this life is over. It is a story that is about the Creator and the love he has for his creation. That story will come to its climax. Perhaps then, we will look back at our part in the play and say, “Now I understand.”

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The Cave

Papa! Papa! Where am I?

How did I get here? It’s so dark. I can’t see a thing!
I remember walking along the path with my friends. Next thing I know I’m waking up here in the dark. I think I remember the path passing near the entrance of a cave. Is that where I am?

How do you feel?

Everything hurts. I feel like I got hit by a truck. Now I remember. We were walking along when I was hit by something. Who would have done something like this?

An Enemy has done this.

Papa, it hurts so bad! I don’t understand! I’m all alone here in the darkness and I feel like everyone has abandoned me!

You are not alone. Your most trusted long time companion is near, waiting for you. I am here.

How did this happen? Everything seemed good. There was some loose rock on the path at times, and there were some places where part of the path had washed away. but I thought we had gotten past them. I thought this part of the journey was going well. I thought we were together.

Papa?

I’m broken. I feel like I can’t move. I’m afraid to try because I can’t see and I don’t know if it’s safe. I don’t know what to do!

Do you remember the time you spent in the desert learning to trust me rather than what you expected me to do?

Yes, I do. That was hard.

You still have more to learn.

Does it have to be so painful? I’d rather lose a job again than feel so hurt and rejected!

Papa, what do I do?

Stay here for awhile. Don’t move. I know it’s dark and you’re scared, but I’m here with you. You are broken, but my love will heal you. You are safe here. Learn again to trust me. No matter what.

When the time comes, I will lead you out of this place, and you and the person who truly loves you will continue on in your journey with me.

Papa, help me! I have no strength.

I know. I am your strength. I love you, son.

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Community Happenings

One of our goals at St. Thomas is to get to know each other, in order to grow together as a body and be able to build each other up. We can’t do that by meeting only on Sunday morning, so we have been getting together at other times. About two weeks ago we gathered at a house and spent a few hours together, eating and drinking, and telling each other a little bit of our stories. We talked about the earliest age at which we remember being wounded in spirit. It was eye opening and I think it gave us all some understanding of where each of us is coming from and how those early experiences have shaped us.

A couple of nights ago, a few of us gathered at our house to hear one of our number and her daughter tell us about a recent trip to Europe. They showed pictures they had taken and told us about their travels. It was more than just a record of places visited though, as they shared how God had traveled with them and had spoken through their experiences, and how that continues to strengthen their faith. It was a good time of fellowship.

Some would say that what happened those two nights was not church, that it was, at best, a small group meeting. I firmly believe that the church was gathered together, and as we gathered, we mutually built each other up and grew closer as members of one another. We didn’t sing any songs, listen to a sermon, or take up an offering.

But it was church. It was church.