Israel... a look back

In just two short weeks, we are planning-Lord willing-to travel to Israel with a group from our church... I was thinking back today about our first trip to the Holy Land in 2006 & how it profoundly changed me. I'm so excited for those that are traveling with us & will experience it all for the first time & I'm excited to see what God has planned for us this time around.

Here are my thoughts-written for our church newsletter-way on back there in 2006:
Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.
                                                                 -1 Corinthians 10:31

Israel left me speechless. Almost a month since we have returned, I am still trying to find the words to express how deeply my soul was touched by this place.

I’m not by nature an emotional person. My husband and children lovingly refer to me as the “ice queen”. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as if I am without feelings, I am just very rarely moved to tears. So as I continue to filter through my thoughts and experiences of Israel I find myself in unchartered territory. You see, everything I witnessed in Israel had something deeply emotional and intensely spiritual lying just under the surface. I experienced this as I walked around the Sea of Galilee and saw the parables of Jesus come alive before my eyes and encountered it again as I beheld the beauty and majesty of the city of Jerusalem from afar, for the first time. But by far the most life changing experience for me was learned not from the land itself but from one that makes his home there; our guide.

His name is Ilan Barkay. His skin is suntanned from the many hours he spends in the desert and he wears hiking boots and a crocodile Dundee hat like a mantra. He holds degrees in geography and Israeli history and is so skilled at his craft that he made every stone, stick and leaf we came across, utterly fascinating. I have to admit that I was so mesmerized with his knowledge that I found myself chasing him all over Israel; literally running some places so that I wouldn’t miss anything he had to say. I guess it was pretty noticeable, because on the last day as we were standing around waiting for the rest of group to catch up, he said to me with a smile, “This is a walking tour across Israel… you have ran the whole way.”

We found ourselves on that last day having dinner at a kibbutz run by Messianic Jews. As we listened to a dear Jewish brother tell of their ministry to the Jewish people, I was struck by how few Jewish believers there are in Israel. Here in a place where even the land bears witness to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ! My mom must have been thinking the same thing I was because she turned and asked Ilan, “Are you Messianic?” “I am a reformed Jew.” was his quiet reply. With all his wealth of knowledge, all the fulfilled prophecies, parables and revelations he pointed out to us along the way, he did not fully know Jesus. In that moment, I grieved in my spirit for him and determined to pray for him.

As Chuck and I took in those final moments overlooking Jerusalem, I resolved to change this same thing in my own life. I don’t want to be full of knowledge and void of truth. My hearts desire is to be so overwhelmed with our incomparable awesome God that my life cannot help but bring Him glory!

                                             -The First Union Church Spark 2006

Caleb... in the Middle

No one’s ever seen or heard anything like this,
Never so much as imagined anything quite like it—
What God has arranged for those who love him.

-1 Corinthians 2:9

This is Caleb. He calls me Mumma. I call him Bubs. This Bubs. He's in the middle. Smack dab in between his big brother Josh & his baby sister Hannah. He wears the 'middle kid' title like a boss & likes to frequently remind us with a smirk, that no one hears him or notices him or cares about him mostly cause he's... you guessed it... in the middle.

When Caleb was ten we took a family trip to Niagara Falls. After we had taken in the majestic beauty of the falls we found ourselves wandering around a gift shop close by. I, the consummate reader of course, was very carefully reading facts about the falls strategically placed around the store. It came to no real surprise that I quickly became completely engrossed in a story about a boy who had survived going over the falls. Unbeknownst to me, Caleb was trying to get my attention. You know the kind...

"Mum. Mum. Mum. Mumma. Mum. Mummy. Mum. Mum. Mum."

He may have even pulled on my sleeve. I don't know for sure because. I. was. reading. okay?

Finally he gave up & as we climbed into the car to go back to our campsite for the night, he finally let it all out...
"You never hear me."
"Who?"
"You."
"Me?"
"Yes."
"What are you talking about kid? I hear you. I'm talking to you right now."
"Yeah but back in the store... I wanted this cool Niagara Falls football. I tried to tell you but you didn't listen."

OWCH... truth is I hadn't heard him. I was too busy reading Niagara Falls facts I could have googled when I got home. I felt bad. I super felt bad later when we returned to the store for the football & it was closed.

Now years later, sometimes it still bothers me. So much so that one year, I tried to find one online to buy him for his birthday. Years later, he still brings it up... mostly in jest now... when he thinks I'm not listening.

Honestly, I listen much more than he thinks I do... I listen when he tells me all about college, about his classes & professors & projects, & his roommates. How he hates math but loves his construction management classes. I listen when he tells me all about his job, his boss & his coworkers, his hilarious mishaps on the construction site & how he loves every second of what he does. I listen when talks about his Courtney, how she's so cute & funny, how he loves her so much & can't wait to marry her. I listen to all the things because... NIAGARA FALLS that's why.

In listening I've learned a lot about this boy. I've learned that he's a hard worker. He'd rather swing a hammer in below zero temps than sit in a trailer & order people around. I've learned that he tends to be a rule follower & while he often thinks in very black & white terms, he has a very sensitive heart. Especially for those that are hurting. I've learned that he thinks about ministry & wonders how he can do it without being a pastor. I've learned that he thinks deeply & feels deeply. That he's kind & compassionate to a fault. He's been known to pick up homeless people & drive them places, ** to carry water & granola bars in his trunk to give to out to the hungry. That he's the first to hug his little sister when she's crying & works really hard to be the kind of man his fiancé needs. That he is a good man. The kind Jesus is proud of.

Coming up in just 15 days, Caleb in the Middle, will be turning twenty-one. In keeping with true middle child form, Hubs & I will be out of the country & unable to be with him on his actual birthday. So we are making a special trip to Fargo this weekend to hang out with him & his girl. I'm looking forward to seeing him & hearing him. Cause that Caleb in the Middle... is also hilarious.

"The gospel is absurd and the life of Jesus is meaningless unless we believe that He lived, died, and rose again with but one purpose in mind: to make brand-new creation. Not to make people with better morals but to create a community of prophets and professional lovers, men and women who would surrender to the mystery of the fire of the Spirit that burns within, who would live in ever greater fidelity to the omnipresent Word of God, who would enter into the center of it all, the very heart and mystery of Christ, into the center of the flame that consumes, purifies, and sets everything aglow with peace, joy, boldness, and extravagant, furious love. This, my friend, is what it really means to be a Christian."  

-Brennan Manning (The Furious Longing of God)

 
**Ummm... just in case you were wondering, I've actually told him I don't want to know about this picking up homeless people anymore but he should tell his dad in case we have to search for his body in a ditch. 

The Final Word about running running running the 13.1

It's been almost two weeks since my dad & I ran the half-marathon. I've been going over it & over it & over it in my mind so I could write just one more thing to communicate how it went. To be honest, I still don't have words.

Then this morning, my mom sent me this article. It's my dad's February newsletter to his congregation. As some of you might know, my parents are about to embark on a new journey... one of retirement... whatever that means to these two adventurous souls. They sold their home in December & have been living with friends until their beloved church could find someone to replace him. In January, their church family called a new pastor. A young man, to whom Pastor Dan will pass the baton to in March.

I'm enclosing the article here because it is what I couldn't put words to myself...

FROM THE PASTOR’S MESSY DESK

“For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time has come for my departure.  I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the Faith.  Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award me on that day – and not only me, but also all who have longed for His appearing.”  2 Timothy 4:6-8

Last fall my daughter Lisa and I began to train for a half marathon to run together.  Our plan was to meet on race day in Naples, Florida on January 18, 2015.  Believe me, running a race in Florida in January was not a mistake.  What a great excuse to get out of the cold and into the warmth.

But half marathons are not something you just show up for in spite of the temps.  You have to build miles into your legs over a period of time.  We both started our 12 week training programs which involve running different distances at different paces 5 days per week.  One day each week we added another mile until we were running up to 12 miles in one training session.  So when we ran the race, it was something close to what we had done before.  The race was really the culmination of the long journey. 

I’m glad to say both Lisa and I put in the necessary work.  Running in the fall and winter around here is not ideal, but my training was nothing compared to what Lisa had to go through training in MinneSNOWta.  She had to wear special grippers on her shoes to run in the snow each day.  She’s insane.  I hear it runs in the family.  I’m so proud of her with her running mascara and runny nose.

Race day came.  We lined up with some 2,000 other contestants for this great event at the starting line at 7:00 a.m.  The temps were perfect and the course was beautiful, running through some of the most beautiful neighborhoods in all of Florida.  Actually the course was so beautiful it was distracting from some of the challenge of the race.  Lisa and I also chose to run the race together, side by side, to share the experience.  “Remember when we sweated like draft horses and agonized together for 13.1 grueling miles in the hot Florida sun?”  “Sure.  You know, you looked awful!”  “Yeah, and do you know you smelled like an ole tennis shoe?”

I’m so glad we did this together, although one of us could have left the other in the dust (at least that’s what he thinks).  Also, as a surprise, some of Lisa’s friends from Minnesota showed up to cheer her and me on.  They would pop up at different places in the race with banners and cheers.  What a great surprise and encouragement to have best friends share in your accomplishment.  Some of them actually had tears of joy and love in their eyes.  And it wasn’t just the girls.  By the way, Linda and Josh were sipping on coffee and eating pastry in a coffee shop while this was going on. Slackers!

Interesting:  Some runners started the race fast, and don’t ask me how, they finished fast, in record time.  They must have found a great short cut.  Some though, stared fast and ended slow.  Some started fast and didn’t even finish.  One guy even died just short of the finish line.  Thank God they revived him.  Some of us started slow and finished.  We finished!  We ran the whole race without stopping.  As each of us finished, we finished to applause and congratulations.  Don and Helen Skelton even came to cheer us through the finish line where we received a prize.  We laughed and smiled and wore our medals proudly as the phone cameras flashed.  Facebook here we come!  We are now legends in our own minds.  But does all this mean Lisa and I are finished with races?  Certainly not.  There are more races for us to run, till we breathe our last breath.

 

But isn’t all this really a parable on the Christian life?  First of all we sign up for the race.  We then learn about running the race from the training manual and other race contestants.  We adopt a good training regimen.  We consistently ran, day in and day out, week after week, year after year.  We have special game days, special days to perform special services.  We have friends to cheer us on and we have friends that we cheer on along the way.  We don’t run the race alone, we run alongside fellow contestants.  Some, more than others, choose to enjoy the beauty of God’s creation along the way.  Some finish their race before others. Each person’s race is different. Each person’s race is unique to themselves.  But when we all cross that finish line, we finish to the applause of that great crowd of witnesses and then we receive a reward from the Master of the race, who knows a little about running and finishing races.  “Well done, good and faithful servant (runner).”   

 

Thank you for running this race with me over these last 14 years.  It was a great and memorable run.  One I will never forget.  I will never forget you.  If I don’t see you sooner, I’ll catch up to you at the finish line and the great celebration to follow (the Marriage Supper of the Lamb).  But here’s the deal!  Let each of us finish our race well.  Let’s not break stride and let’s not quit.  Remember we have been created to RUN, so RUN!
                                                                                                  
In Jesus’ love, PD

 

“The reason we race isn't so much to beat each other... but to be with each other... there was some kind of connection between the capacity to love and the capacity to love *running*. The engineering was certainly the same: both depended on loosening your grip on your own desires, putting aside what you wanted and appreciating what you've got, being patient and forgiving and... undemanding...maybe we shouldn't be surprised that getting better at one could make you better at the other.”   -Christopher McDougall, Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen

Sunday Through a Pastor's Eyes

Recently, Hubs read me the following letter. He had found something like it on a ministry leadership site he frequents & he rewrote it to mirror his own experiences... I was so moved by it's authenticity & by my Hubs heart. So because it is Sunday Eve & I'm pretty sure my Hubs won't (he wouldn't want to seem like he was complaining... which to be honest, he rarely does), I am choosing to share it here with you with hope that you will read it with an open heart & mind & that by giving you a peek into the mind of my Hubs (& I'd bet many other pastors as well) on Sunday mornings that you might understand better how much he loves Jesus & all of you...  

 

"Why is it that Sunday's at 8 a.m. feels early? Driving to the church on empty streets, I hope that I will have time to go over my message once again before the worship service begins. I often wonder if there will ever come a day where I will feel 'ready' before Sunday services begin.
 

I see that Andrew, the area wanderer, who has adopted us, is waiting in his car in the parking lot.  I drive in and think to myself, "I hope today is one of his 'good' days."  You never know. "Good morning, Andrew.  Church doesn't start for another hour or so but you're welcome to come in with me and we can get a fresh pot of coffee started and you can warm up."  As I let us both into the building, I wonder if it's wise to be alone with him. I can see it's not one of his better days.

I've pretty familiar with the sounds of the empty church, but I hear something different this morning as I walk past one of the restrooms. Has the hand dryer been running all night again? I step inside to see if I can figure something out but I'm a pastor with absolutely no mechanical ability.  I guess our utilities bills will go over budget again, and once we pay for an electrician, the bank account will take an even bigger hit. Let's hope giving this month makes room for stuck hand dryers. I'll drop a note to the property chairperson.

On my way to the office, I check in on the sanctuary where the greeters are arriving and the worship team are setting up their instruments. "Good morning! Thanks for everything you all do!" I say as I turn my attention to the thermostat on the wall to make sure its set appropriately for service. Looks like we need more candles for the alter too, so I head for the office.

Finally, dropping my coat off on my desk, I have that nagging feeling that I should go over my sermon one more time. I go through the checklist in mind: Will thinking more about it really make a difference? Is there a chance that I will cross the line between under-prepared and over-prepared? Have I left room for the Spirit of God to work in it or is it too much of me? Man!  Will I ever have a Sunday where I'm comfortable with this?  I really should get those candles and write that email about the electrician.

Speaking of electrician, I probably should head back to the bathroom before people start arriving. On my way I notice Lawrence, one of our most faithful members, shoveling the walk again. I wave at him through the window and mouth the words, "Thank you!" "I really should invite Larry and his wife to dinner.  Such faithful people. Maybe next month."

Arlene rounds the corner and jokes with Dan then hustles inside. Greeting her with a hug, I ask if things are any different at home since the last time we met. Her face screams that it isn't but she does her best to reassure me that things are fine.  I'm at a loss as to how best to comfort her in light of the troubles she's facing. A sound tech pops his head out of the sanctuary and asks if I know where we keep the extra batteries. I quickly move the conversation with Arlene along and then excuse myself to dig around for batteries. Oh, and those candles too.

There's still time to get in that bathroom break before the service starts so I quickly scoot in that direction.  Passing the church office, I check in with the Elders and we have a quick run through the order of service and pray for the day. As we pray I remember that I never did go over the sermon that one last time and so I add a prayer that God will work through it all anyway. I feel Caleb's reassuring presence beside me during the prayer.  After the prayer is done he asks me how I am. He's the closest thing to a friend I have here and I'd dearly love to tell him everything. But what exactly would I say?  Besides, I realize there isn't time to go into it now, with the service about to begin. So I pull myself away from the elder's to head to the bathroom where I finally relax for a moment before heading out to start ramping things up. I realize that Sunday should never be a performance so I shouldn't be anxious yet, something huge is about to happen, and I feel the weight of the responsibility I have in helping make it happen.

Finally, making it to the sanctuary and getting to my seat, the service goes pretty much as usual. There's a commotion at one point as someone spilled coffee on the floor.  A few slides don't match the music. As we are singing the beautiful songs, I feel bad that my mind is not engaged in the lyrics of such theology but rather thinking about whether or not I have water up in the pulpit.  So, I duck out of the church to go make sure I have a bottle of water ready.  As I duck into the into the kitchen to get the water, I see the coffee volunteers are still there, cleaning up. I take time to thank them for their work and ask them how they are. As I am getting ready to head back to the sanctuary, one pulls me aside and picks up on a story he started telling me last week, a detailed analysis on the state of his intestines. I really hope my mic is off. I really do hope he'll be okay. Then I hope it's not contagious. I can hear the final song of the worship set wrapping up and I realize I have to run. As I dash back into the sanctuary just in time, I see I've forgotten my water bottle.

As I reenter the sanctuary, I make the choice to turn my hurried entrance into positive energy and set aside my self-accusation that I wasn't standing in prayerful preparation with the rest of these worshippers.  As I find my sermon notes and gather my thoughts, I'm happy to see people seem engaged. A few respond with laughter in the right places. At one point, I lose my train of thought and at another I forget an important segue, but I laugh at myself to pretend I don't care. Toward the end of the sermon, I notice a young man in tears in the back and hope they're good tears. As I'm getting ready to wrap this thing up, a new thought falls into place in my mind, something with rhythm that bears repeating, so I repeat it. Now, I check the time to see just how far off I am.  The final pieces that refused to fit together at my computer come together here as I speak, not only for my congregation but for me. When it's done I hope it also meant something to someone else.

The rest of the service is a blur of the words I say every week over offerings and communions and announcements and doxologies.  As I take a seat at the end of the service, I do so with a sigh. It was good and now it's done. I bow my head and the prayer feels so right. Or is it good because it lets me rest my eyes? Regardless, I am breathe a sigh of relief.  

I glance up from prayer to see a new couple enthusiastically moving towards me. I've asked their names twice now. It was two J's. Justin and Joanne? John and Julie? I see their faces and hope it means they enjoyed the sermon. But then I question my motives.  Is it my ego, wanting some sign that my work is effective? Is it good to want proof that God can use my feeble offerings to bless others? This new couple has just moved into the area and own a realty company and ask if they could hand out business cards and fliers in the foyer as people leave church.  As they hand me a business card, I see the teary young man standing tentatively behind them. He has that, "I'd like to speak to you but I'm standing a little way off so I don't intrude on your current conversation" posture. I smile at him to let him know I've seen him and try to find a way to include him.

My daughter brushes up against me and although I can't tear away from the chatty couple, I pull her close to me. I hope that she senses my attention even if it's divided. This girl has sacrificed more for this place than anyone knows, and I don't want her growing up thinking I cared more for my parishioners than I did for her. As I try to focus on what this new couple is saying, I miss it as I notice that the teary man has left. I hope he comes back next Sunday. I pray that God will guide him through whatever brought him to tears. I finally attend to my daughter's question, careful to give her at least as much of my energy as I give everyone else, and she skips back to her friends. I take the business card and apologize to the two J's, "I'm sorry but you'll have to pass out your fliers somewhere else.  Church isn't the appropriate place for that."  

As the couple walks away and I wonder if I'll ever see them again, I let my eyes scan the room. Is there anyone left standing alone? Any newcomer un-welcomed? People gather in happy groups, and I'm glad to see there aren't any loners. And at the same time, it saddens me. That makes me the only one.

Turning my attention to the final tasks to be wrapped up, I begin to feel my heart rate fall back to normal. As I walk through the entire building and with each door I lock, I find myself hitting a wall.  I can't wait to get home.  Lights are off.  Last of the people are mulling out the door.  I follow them to my car.  As I open my car door, I hear, "Pastor, before you go, can we pray? I have exams this week and I don't feel ready." Of course we can pray. It's what I'm here for. But I think, "If I had already left, would he have been okay? Would he have prayed without me?"  I feel for him genuinely as he shares his family's expectations and the pressure he feels, how he hasn't been able to sleep, which means he can't focus to study. It's beyond anything I can do to help so we pray.  I give his week to the Lord and we both feel a little better. "Let me know how things go! I'll be thinking of you this week!" I say, hoping that will be true.

Driving home, I go over my mental checklist: Did I catch up with the people who most needed my attention this week? Did I double check the door that sticks? I hope that Andrew hasn't hidden away in one of the back bathrooms again. Who can blame him when the streets are so cold? I hope there's a warm lunch awaiting me at home. But beyond hunger for food, there's a deeper hunger: for sleep. I've worked eight-hour shifts in offices and ten-hour shifts in restaurants. Why does this six-hour work day wear me out more than any of them? I guess it doesn't matter "why"... I wouldn't have it any other way." 

(This is a work of fiction loosely based on Hubs last seven years of ministry and adapted from an article written by Mandy Smith, lead Pastor of University Christian Church in Cincinnati, Ohio: http://www.christianitytoday.com/le/2015/january-online-only/sunday-through-pastors-eyes.html )

 

One Word Resolve

"Live in me. Make your home in me just as I do in you. In the same way that a branch can’t bear grapes by itself but only by being joined to the vine, you can’t bear fruit unless you are joined with me."  -Jesus, John 15:4 (the Message)

"Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me."  -Jesus, John 15:4 (NASB)

I don't make New Years resolutions. I quit that whole mess a long, long time ago. I just lack the stick-to-it-ness that the common resolutions require. Plans to exercise are easily forgotten with the lure of a cup of strong coffee, well-worn pajamas & a fat book. All semblance of a diet goes right out the window with my penchant for hamburgers, greasy French fries & craft beer. & don't even get me started on time management. I just have too much love for people. Chores get set aside to meet up with a girlfriend for coffee & the cycle of breaking the resolution continues.

Shortly after New Years last year a precious friend challenged me to a different kind of resolution. She asked me to choose one word... one where I felt God's moving... one word that I would choose to focus on for the year. I prayed about it & then it came to me. I chose the word 'ABIDE'.

It's funny how one word can change the course of your life. Even now as I type this, I'm astounded by the ways God has worked in my life, sometimes painfully, this year. 

Here is what I mean...

When I found myself on the edge of a full on melt-down over a too busy schedule...  
when I faced changes in my family...  
when I experienced a push into leadership...
when I felt ill-equipped or out of my element...
when I confronted by big decisions in my work life...
when I was frustrated with ministry...
when I was overwhelmed & exhausted...

there it was...

ABIDE

spoken into my life by treasured friends who hold me accountable...
read in the scriptures at the perfect time...
heard unexpectedly in the beautiful words of a song...
breathed into my soul in the stillness by my Savior...

I learned

to stop...
to pray...
to listen in the quiet...

I experienced truly what it means to Abide. Not in a perfect "I've got this thing" way, but in a "I want more & more & more of this thing" way.

This morning, this brand New Years Day, I began praying for another word. To be honest, I did this reluctantly, I just wanted to stick with the one I have. I know there is so much more Jesus has to teach me & yet... I know that just because I choose another word, it doesn't mean I won't continue to abide. I'll be growing & learning & understanding more of that crazy beautiful thing the rest of my life.

Today, as I was praying, a dear friend shared this profound truth with me, "we steer where we stare".

So what will I be 'staring' at in 2015?

GATHER.

I have no earthly idea of what this word will mean for my life as we move into 2015 but I am sure that whatever it is, it will be wreckingly good.

 

"How do we accomplish this matter of gathering life together in God?  We must begin primarily by refocusing our attention keeping our minds and hearts directed toward God. 

The essence of the centered life is attention to God in all we think, say and do. It is the growing realization of His presence in our most down-to-earth living."         
— Sue Monk Kidd, God's Joyful Surprise: Finding Yourself Loved