Winter Haiku

Risen orange orb

on glittering, glistening

blanket stretches long.

LTM 1/26/25

The Pendulum Swings

The loss of a home in the community to fire over the weekend has touched my heart profoundly.  It weighed heavily on my heart all day Sunday. I simply cannot fathom everything you own being turned to ash before your eyes.  Losing pets that are family members and explaining all of that to two young children is so difficult.  My heart breaks over the overwhelming shock and grief that I know this sweet family is experiencing.  At the same time, the mobilization and outpouring of this community is a miracle to behold!  In less than 24 hours they’ve been given a free place to live as they discern what to do next.  Neighbors are organizing clothing, toys, and food collections, plans for fund collections are being made.  Of course, New Providence stands ready to help with all these efforts. 

On Sunday evening, I learned that a young couple that I have known for over a decade, since my time serving in Appomattox is preparing to welcome a baby girl into the world.  What elation I felt! One of “my kids” is having a kid! This little one will be so cherished, and I can’t help but imagine her growing into a little red head with flowing curls and a musical instrument in hand.  I saw photographs of family and friends showering this couple with gifts and smiled, because once again, we see a community enveloping a family with more than just items they will need, but with love. 

And so, the pendulum swings.  We can experience grief and joy, almost in the same breath.  We can witness tragedy and miracles and hold them both in gentle hands.  The light shines in the darkness.  And the darkness cannot overcome it. 

Tonight my Heart is Tired

My heart is tired tonight, Lord.

My heart is tired tonight. 

I’m tired of the zone being flooded.

I’m tired of feeling overwhelmed.

I’m tired of all the sadness,

scattered about the realm.

Shattered dreams and broken hearts

lay tattered on the ground.

I wonder where in the world you go,

It feels like you’re nowhere around.

I’m tired of guns and violence.

I’m tired of senseless wars.

I’m tired of feeling the edge of terror

knocking on our doors.

I’m tired of the ICE flows,

and the grubby grabs for oil.

I’m tired of the AI lies,

our eyes bear false witness,

they’ve sworn.

I’m tired knowing

neighbors go hungry

While I lay warm and full in my bed.

I’m tired of neighbors dying

without access to the proper meds.

I’m tired of addiction

ravaging our towns.

I’m tired of false promises

for solutions that run aground.

I’m tired of being scared

for our children to go to school.

I’m tired from all the trauma, Lord.

And I just bet you are too.

Won’t you come and save us,

won’t you hear our prayers?

Won’t you wrap us in your wings,

And account for every hair?

We are our brothers’ keepers,

But tonight, I fear I’m lost.

I don’t know how to go on,

while witnessing the cost.

LTM 1/11/26

Daily Jubilee

I love that ever so slowly the days are getting longer again.  The sunlight does wonders for my mental health.  I am not one that revels in cold days or winter sports.  I miss warm summer sunsets and my porch! Snuggly cats, lamplight, and books only take one so far, and so, despite my encouragement in Sunday’s sermon to slow down in the darkness and look for God’s stars to light our way… I am happy each sunset now comes just a few minutes later on the clock from here on out.

While taking down the Christmas tree at the turn of the year makes me sad (and grumpy with the effort), to leave it up all year would be to diminish what makes the season bright and special.  The holiday festivities give us something to look forward to in the short, dark days of winter.  I can’t help but think that this is why, particularly since the pandemic, people put up their Christmas decorations immediately after Halloween! We need the joy of the season, we need the hope we know in Christ, we need the twinkling lights to help us banish the darkness!

Of course, this doesn’t mean that the darkness is behind us, shadows lurk in every corner.  Despite the Light come into the world, the gloom of our broken world looms profoundly. The world and all that is in it does not, unfortunately, reset when we turn the calendar to a new year.  Wouldn’t it be lovely if we had Jubilee years like those of the Old Testament, where the slate is wiped clean and everyone has a chance to begin again? 

To think about it too deeply is to despair, I fear.  Especially since we are hopefully entering the new year following a time of deep joy and rest.  But maybe, just maybe, we can find ways to hold onto that sense of joy and peace, if we keep our eyes on Jesus.  Can we reflect his light in some way, just in our little corner of the world?  Can we start with our awakening in the morning, in the privacy of our homes, and can we carry that warmth into our places of work, our classrooms, our clubs and our community?  Maybe we can be catalysts for the Light brightening as the days grow longer.  Maybe every morning is our own personal jubilee, to begin anew in our striving to center our lives on Christ.  The season of Christmas comes to a close, but the Light of Christ does not diminish. 

Evergreen

As I sip my coffee on this sunny Monday morning, I do so by the twinkling lights of my Christmas tree.  I absolutely love putting up the tree every year (hate taking it down though)! As a kid I always looked forward to helping mom decorate for Christmas. We’d pull everything down from the attic and while mom strung the lights, I’d set to work opening the ornament boxes and untangling the strands of gold beads, hanging them around my neck as if they were the crown jewels.  Every ornament we had told a story.  There were the clear Lucite ones with my mother’s maiden name, handed down from Grandma Pearlie.  Several gold ones with mom and dad’s wedding anniversary and my name etched on them. One mom’s co-worker gifted her that had the image of a wino snowman, it played music when you pushed the button. My Garfield ornament with him dressed as an angel blowing a trumpet, a gift from my best friend in 1995. 

Now that my mom no longer puts up a traditional tree (that’s another story), I have inherited all her ornaments for my tree! Every year I get to pull out my boxes and hang all the ones mentioned above and so many more.  Kemper’s favorite is the Garfield angel.  There are ornaments from family trips, hand crafted pottery ornaments from friends, wooden wisemen crafted for fair-trade from a seminary friend. I have ornaments made by my aunt, and of course ones Kemper made when he was little. I have a few that were made in Appomattox, and of course, now I have New Providence on the tree, too. A Hollins ornament, a Union Pres. Seminary ornament, a Montreat ornament, and of course, Hanson.    Over the years I’ve bought Michael special ornaments too with themes of his favorite things like The Office, and the pièce de resistance, a hand-painted Goonies ornament.  He also has a special gum-ball machine ornament from his sister.  They had one when they were kids and always fought over who got to put it on the tree.  Kemper gets a fun ornament every year, so we have Mario and Minecraft ornaments in the mix. And every year I get an ornament with a photo of Kemper from that year to mark his growth.  Maybe your experience is similar, that a Christmas tree becomes a type of time capsule. 

I started wondering how Christmas trees in homes became a tradition. Don’t be surprised to learn that it actually has pagan roots tied to the winter solstice. A fun fact, Martin Luther was the one who started putting candles on trees to symbolize stars! Anyway, if you’re interested in learning about this holiday tradition, you can read more here: https://www.history.com/articles/history-of-christmas-trees

I hope you have a beautiful holiday season surrounded by family and friends, enjoying all of the special traditions you’ve fostered over the years.  And remember that God’s love and grace for you given to us in Christ, is evergreen.  See you in 2026!

Gaudete Sunday

I saw God and I heard God and I felt God today, and it was all joy.

A few weeks ago, the kids asked during Children’s Time why there was a pink candle in the middle of all the purple ones.  Observant little boogers.  I tried to explain that each Sunday of Advent season as we wait for Christmas, we light one candle to represent our preparation for the Light of the world to come.  The pink one is special because it represents joy. 

The name of this Sunday comes from the Latin word Gaudete which means, “rejoice”. Due to the pink or rosy colors used to signify the day, rather than the typical purple or dark blue of Advent, the day has also been called Rose Sunday. “This distinctive color choice is a visual cue to the faithful that a shift toward celebration and gladness is underway.”[1]

“The history of Gaudete Sunday is deeply rooted in Christian tradition. The observance dates back to the medieval period when the church recognized the need to balance the penitential nature of Advent with moments of joy and hope. The third Sunday of Advent serves as a brief respite from the more somber aspects of the season, allowing believers to rejoice in the imminent arrival of the Christ child.”[2]

Some traditions to mark the occasion in worship in addition to the lighting of the advent wreath are intentionally joyful music, special prayers, family celebrations, and acts of kindness.  Our Sunday morning included all these elements! It was such a delight to see a choir comprised of members from three community churches; they sang beautifully.  The bells rang clear in our sunny sanctuary. We had incredible guest musicians play as well.  I heard so many kind comments following the service about how lovely it was, how well the children did as they lit candles, represented the nativity, and collected the offering.  Whenever these comments came my way, I graciously agreed but also declared that I can take very little credit, “the one Sunday a year I am not in charge!”

We also participated in a collection of toys and non-perishables for local families to receive this Christmas.  These Manger Gifts, as we call them, are a large part of our day.  This community is so charitable, and it is always an honor to serve as a vehicle for such generosity.  After this we gathered for a delicious meal in our fellowship hall.  Perhaps we should rename it the Family-ship Hall, because that is truly what it is.  We enjoyed a feast as we hugged and chatted away the afternoon.  A day we had been anticipating and preparing for over weeks (again, very little of which was me) finally came to fruition and it was so, so good!  And now we are ten days away from the birthday of Jesus! Just ten days away from those good tidings of great joy!

In his 2014 Gaudete Sunday homily, Pope Francis said that Gaudete Sunday is known as the "Sunday of joy", and that instead of fretting about "all they still haven't" done to prepare for Christmas, people should "think of all the good things life has given you."  So, while it is easy to get caught up in the hectic nature of the holiday season, as we try to make things magical for our children and special for families and friends, I hope we can take to heart what Pope Francis said and think about all the good things life has given to us.  And one of those good things, to my mind, and to my eternal gratitude and joy, is you. 

[1] https://www.christianity.com/wiki/holidays/gaudete-sunday-third-advent-sunday.html

[2] https://www.christianity.com/wiki/holidays/gaudete-sunday-third-advent-sunday.htm

Rooting for redemption

All I want for Christmas 2025 is the character of Steve Harrington to survive the final season of Stranger Things. I’m kidding, sort of.  What I would really love is for the aura of Steve Harrington to survive in the real world.  Harrington’s character arc is one of hard fought and unexpected redemption.  In fact, the show creators, Matt and Ross Duffer intended for Steve to be a minor character that got killed off in season one, but they came to love the actor Joe Keery so much, they decided to keep him.  What started off as a stereotypical high-school bully that you’d love to see eaten by a monster, became one of the most beloved characters of the highly popular show. When faced with adversity, Steve learns how important authentic relationships are to survival. Fans of the show call him the world’s best babysitter, because he ends up spending a lot of time trying to convince the younger teen characters that their ideas are risky and dangerous, but when they don’t listen to him, he always goes along to try and keep them safe.  I just really hope when the final battle of the apocalypse comes to Hawkins, Indiana on New Year’s Eve, Steve is left standing.

The real world could take a lesson or two from Steve, and not just about his great 80’s styled hair (he uses Farah Fawcett hairspray by the way).

First, we don’t need to be bullies to survive! The whole idea that we have to outwit another person with our words or punch out first or we become the ones getting punched is absurd. We don’t need to build ourselves up to be these unflinching people who harden our hearts to block out pain while throwing everyone else to the wolves.  Why we think power and cruelty must go together is beyond me.  Life is much richer when we open ourselves up to vulnerability, that’s real courage. Steve got the snot beat out of him in season one, and honestly, he deserved it.  But this wake-up call took him from bully to protector.

[Think Pharoah, Joseph’s brothers, Hamaan, Jonah, Herod, Saul/Paul]

Second, real strength isn’t found in the individual but in community.  Had Steve’s character limped off into the shadows after his embarrassing loss in season one, he would not have survived—but instead, he shed his self-centered, too cool behavior by showing concern for someone he truly cared about and became part of a team. His role became big brother in a way; not always the brightest crayon in the box (he did sleep through algebra one) but a fierce protector, willing to drive his precious beamer full of friends straight into the upside down to defeat evil. He learns that if he is there for his friends, they will also, in turn, be there for him.

[Think Moses, King David, Job, Naomi & Ruth, Jesus’ disciples, the apostles like Paul]

Third, we are our brothers’ keeper—everyone could use a “babysitter” like Steve from time to time.  One of the best lines from the show is when another character, Robin, asks Steve, “how many children are you friends with” as the middle school aged kids keep showing up at his place of work.  But by season five, Steve is so frustrated by his young friend Dustin’s rebellious behavior, he snaps at him. When Dustin says, “your concern for me is overwhelming,” Steve replies, “My Concern!  I have shown nothing but concern for you for forever!”  Honestly, as a wife and mother, I’ve never felt so seen.

[Think Cain and Abel, Esther, Daniel, Peter, Lydia, Philemon & Onesimus]

The point is, we need to pay attention to each other, to look out for each other. The world is full of bullies, darkness, and cruelty happening right before our eyes. The best way to fight all that is together, and with the Light of Christ before us.  At the end of the day, we are all humans, all children of God. All deserving of respect, love, and a shot at redemption. It’s never too late.

“Sermonizing”

Writing a sermon is kind of like preparing for Thanksgiving Dinner…you read a bunch of recipes, you throw a bunch of ingredients together, and pray the turkey isn’t still frozen!

Sometimes, as the young people say, “you’re cooking” and it all comes together beautifully, the way you might make a dish from memory, passed down from the generations before you. You know, the recipe you can’t really give to anyone because you don’t measure, you just prepare by taste.

 Other times, the process is painfully slow, and you wonder if you’ve missed a step or confused your recipes like Rachel’s attempt at an English Trifle (Friends Season 6 Episode 9) where the book’s pages get stuck together and she mixes the trifle recipe with shepherd’s pie.  Her dish has lady fingers layered with beef and sautéed onions and peas.

After almost five years of sermons at New Providence, I bet everyone can tell when I’m cooking like Grandma or baking like Rachel. 

Most days I’m thankful for the process, and the Holy Spirit coming through for me! And all of you, for listening. 

Thankful

For these (and many more things) at New Providence, I give thanks.

Thoughtfulness and Teamwork

History and Heritage

Advent and Angels

Neighbors and Nourishment

Kids and Kin (and Kimberly)

Feasts and Friendship

Unity and Understanding

Laughter and Love

Psalm 107:8-9

8 Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love,
    for his wonderful works to humankind.
9 For he satisfies the thirsty,
    and the hungry he fills with good things.

Give it more time

My impatience got the better of me this week.  My feelings of utter helplessness and lack of control got the better of me, too.  I don’t recall anyone telling me how often as a parent I would wonder if I was doing the right thing.  So far (I think) my gut instincts have been correct, at least when it comes to the big things.  I texted my mother and said, “How come you never told me I would never know what the best thing to do is?” and she replied, “I never wanted to admit defeat!”  When I sent her a GIF of a white flag waving in surrender, she responded, “Sometimes you just have to hug them and hope for the best.  I waved that flag a lot!”  Honestly, that made me feel a lot better, because my mom was always my go-to person growing up.  She always seemed to know what to do, how to fix the boo-boos, how to stop the tears, how to mend the fences. 

I stood in my kitchen on Wednesday morning at my wits end, put my elbows on the countertop and prayed to the Lord to give me wisdom, to stop my child’s discomfort and heal his skinny little eleven-year-old frame. Then I called the doctor’s office and talked to a nurse.  I explained how hard mornings have been, how that is when his pain is the most pronounced, how I can hardly get him to eat breakfast, much less make the 30-minute car ride to school.  I told her that I just didn’t know what else to do for him, I didn’t feel like the medication was helping us, and I was not (am not) cut out to be a homeschool mom. Overseeing make-up work might just end with him in military school!  A few minutes later she returned my call with instructions from the doctor to bring him into the hospital, and they would prepare to do surgery to remove his kidney stone.  Worried, but also relieved, I broke the news to my boy who broke down in tears, “please, mom, please give me a few more days, just a little more time, please.” 

After a few hours that included some bloodwork, an ultrasound, and an x-ray, the doctor came in to see us.  He had a very calm bedside manner and spent significant time explaining the pros and cons of surgery to us, all the while his hand resting on my son’s ankle as he looked into his eyes and included him in the conversation. He pulled up the scans from two weeks ago and the scans from that day to compare and revealed to us that the stone is making excellent progress through the urinary tract! I could hardly believe it.  In about 12 days, the stone had traveled 12 cm, with only about 5 more to go. There’s just one more spot that might be significantly painful for him before he passes it.  When he said, “it’s really up to you all, if he can handle the discomfort a little longer or you are ready to throw in the towel, then we can try to remove it.”  My sweet child looked over at me with his big brown eyes, filled with crocodile tears, pleading to go home. I looked to the doctor and said, “Your professional opinion, what would you do?”  He waited a few beats, building the suspense, then said, “I’d give it more time.”   

And there it was. God’s answer to my kitchen prayer. The doctor apologized for the directive to drive into Roanoke and go through the tests, but I told him I was grateful. I was thankful that he took my concerns seriously and that we were able to get confirmation that we are in fact doing all the right things, that there is an end in sight. God is always at work.  It just takes time. 

2 Peter 3:8: "But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day".

Habakkuk 2:3: "For still the vision awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay".

Psalm 31:15: "My times are in your hands".

God is great, God is Good

God is great

God is good

Let us thank him for our food

By his hands

We all are fed

Give us Lord

Our Daily Bread

Amen.

I prayed this blessing at the dinner table until I moved away from home.  In fact, every once in a while, when we return to my parents’ house for a meal I will offer to say grace.  I always wonder if I’ll remember it and I am a little surprised when it rolls off my tongue every time.  So many memories fade over time but isn’t it funny what sticks? I can also remember the three main phone numbers I dialed as a child: our house, grandma’s house, and my best friend Whitney’s house.

Both of these examples of memorization point to one thing—connection.  Connection to God and connection to one another.  I remembered those phone numbers because that is how I got in touch with the people who were central to my life.  I remembered that blessing at dinner because that is how I was taught to give thanks to God. 

How often we say liturgies and prayers by rote…the Lord’s Prayer, the Apostle’s Creed, a familiar line of scripture. But how often do we stop to ponder the meaning behind our words? 

God IS great! God IS good! By God’s hands we ALL are FED! Give us our DAILY bread! 

God is great and good beyond all measure.  God provides for us, feeding us bodily and spiritually.  We give thanks and ask that God supply us our daily bread, our manna! We ask for just what we need and trust that God will provide for it every day.  We don’t need to hoard the bounty, God is enough. 

As we approach the holiday season, I hope we will remember how it is that God provides food for all.  Manna does not rain down from the heavens every night and lay on the ground like dew before us.  I wish it were that easy.  Instead, God has given us the knowledge and means to provide food for all.  Yes, were we to fairly distribute food—all would be fed.  Instead, our greed and our politics cause some people to have leftovers rotting in the fridge while others starve.  I can’t help but think about the sparsely set tables of some of our neighbors and wonder how this blessing over the meal might sound in their ears. While their bellies rumble, do they wonder, is God great, is God good? Are we being fed? Are we receiving daily bread?

It is intended that we are God’s hands and feet in this world!  By HIS hands we are all fed!  It is our responsibility to care for one another.  When Cain murdered his brother Abel out of jealousy and God asked what became of his brother, Cain said, “am I my brother’s keeper?”  The implication is a resounding yes!

Ephesians 2:10 reminds us, “10 For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we may walk in them.”

Because God is great, because God is good, we thank him for our food…then we take upon ourselves the task of ensuring that out of our bounty our brothers and sisters are also receiving their daily bread.  Amen.

On Our Knees

When asked if the conversations during fellowship time would inform my Monday Manna this week, I jokingly said, “well we talked about knee replacements…it would be kind of daunting to take communion for those among us with knee problems by kneeling!”  I was joking, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed fitting.

One of the hymns we sang on Sunday in preparation for communion was “Let Us Break Bread Together.”  The verses say:

Let us break bread together on our knees. 

Let us drink wine together on our knees.

Let us praise God together on our knees. 

The refrain further reiterates the cause of our genuflection, and our possible discomfort:

When I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun, O Lord, have mercy on me. 

We kneel before God in humility, in faith, asking for God’s grace upon us, as sinners. We fall short of the glory of God and yes, we need God’s grace. But when we bow before the Lord, we kneel with shelter above our heads.  We kneel with warm clothing and shoes on our bodies.  While yes, it may be hard on our joints to bend and kneel, we kneel with access to adequate health care.  We kneel with full bellies and the knowledge that we will not go hungry.  So, we give thanks God has been merciful to us and granted us such blessings.

But others, our very neighbors, fall to their knees with anguished pleas for deliverance. They beg to know the mercy of Christ who not only ate with sinners but fed the hungry and defended the poor.  They kneel beneath leaky rooftops and under bridges, Lord have mercy on me.  They kneel in tattered jackets and shoes with worn out soles, Lord have mercy on me. They kneel in pain facing medical conditions for which they cannot afford treatment, Lord have mercy on me.  They kneel with gnawing hunger and fear that there will not be enough food for their families, Lord have mercy on me.

It is humbling to consider, is it not? I hope it brings us to a place of conviction to consider this juxtaposition. For example, there was not one minute when my child was in pain the other night where I worried that I couldn’t afford to take him to the ER to find out what was wrong.  No hesitation, I would do whatever he needs to be healthy. Bring on the specialists!   I cannot imagine having to face those types of decisions. Yet I rarely stop long enough to consider many families have to face tough decisions and go without basic needs every day.  And so Lord, for the gifts I take for granted and the discomfort that makes me turn a blind eye, Lord have mercy on me. 

Flown

October has flown by like a witch on a broomstick! As a lover of October, I’m a bit miffed.  It would be very remiss of me if I didn’t thank you all for making October such a lovely month. For both my birthday and Pastor Appreciation Month you have gone above and beyond in showering me with your kindness and generosity.  Believe you me, I am the lucky one.   As Paul said so eloquently in Philippians 1: 3 I thank my God for every remembrance of you, 4 always in every one of my prayers for all of you, praying with joy 5 for your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now.

Orange leaves

Crunch under booted feet

Traipsing hither and yon

Over pumpkin patches and

By apple orchards

Every day anticipating the chill

Reveling in the merriment of golden days

LTM 10/26/25

Faithful to me

Guess whose brain is tired! Here’s one of my favorite songs, in fact a high school friend sang it at my ordination service. Enjoy.

https://youtu.be/DqsrqKdpEU4?si=PmmuA96J3-S5tWEc

Grandma Becky

My paternal grandmother was named Phyllis Rebecca. She was born Oct 9, 1922, and went by Becky.  I always loved that our birthdays were close together and we shared an opal birthstone.  She was a petite woman with dark eyes and hair, a pistol by anyone’s standards, best I can tell.  When I was a little girl, she and Papa lived in the same ‘holler’ they’d grown up in and built a little two-bedroom house with a sun porch and car port. They had a big garden on the hill, and a strawberry patch in an elevated bed by the back door.  She hung her clothes out on the line and made sun tea in the summer.  She saved cool whip containers instead of Tupperware and dirtied every dish in the kitchen making dinner. True to her generation, she quilted beautiful pieces and had enough canned fruits and vegetables in the basement to get us through the apocalypse.  

 By the time I came along her summer uniform consisted of pastel colored pedal pushers with Keds. I would spend a week with them every summer, and we would go for long walks in the evenings and play in the creek in front of the house.  Sometimes I would go with her to church for choir practice or Ladies’ Aid meetings and run around the maze of hallways in the church my dad grew up in, looking for the names of great aunts, uncles, and cousins on the nursery wall and classroom rosters.  Or I would play around on the stage of the fellowship hall running through curtains and secret doors, just like the kids at New Providence do today.  I can almost smell the place; every church has a scent of its own and Green Hill was no different.  I guess the family church was just an extension of their house to me, and the whole neighborhood felt like ours because both homeplaces were still standing nearby.  When you’re seven or eight years old the willow tree and the water skates seem like magic.

Sometimes I wish for that simpler time. When smells were more intense, colors more vibrant, and time seemed slower and stretched longer, filled with only the best God had to offer—fireflies, peaches, and snapbeans by the bushel.

  How, I wonder, do we harness more of that today? 

Waning Summer

From my rocking chair I see

A winged monarch

A humble bee

A thirsty hummingbird

Buzzing at me.

LTM 9.1.25

It is I who made the earth, and created man upon it. I stretched out the heavens with my hands and ordained all their host. Isaiah 45:12

A Sunday in September

We had a beautiful day on Sunday.  A service of worship with heartfelt music and prayers to the Lord.  We visited together over a delicious meal, and the fellowship hall rang with laughter and the energy of sugar-filled children.  What a gift. I think so just about every day, what a gift we have in each other. It crushed my heart to have come home and seen the news that while we were safely ensconced in our beautiful corner of the world, an LDS church in Michigan was violently ravaged with gunshots and arson.  Innocent people killed and wounded, including children.  It creates a vise around my spirit to imagine such a traumatic scene, and to wonder if the world will ever truly be safe.  If that were to happen to us, well, I just don’t know that I would ever recover.  I simply cannot fathom the heartbreak. On Sunday morning we bared our souls, we filled our bellies, we hugged our church family. We are so, so fortunate.  This is a reminder that we should not take these moments for granted.  I hope you will join me in praying for the broken-hearted, traumatized congregation and community in Michigan.  And I hope you will also join me in prayer for an end to senseless violence, and for better access to mental health care, and stronger systems to protect our citizens from harm. And maybe even find a way to move the needle in that direction for our own community.  As we reflected in worship today, when the voices of the downtrodden cry out, may we be the answers to their prayers. 

Miraculous?

While watching the film King of Kings with the children last week, one of the kids kept whispering, “How did he do that?” each time Jesus would perform a miracle. I’d love to tell you I had a great response in my hip pocket to whisper back, but I am also the pastor who told the same child on Sunday morning that glittery purple floam slime is unicorn poop (I stand by my claim).

The truth is, I don’t know exactly how it all worked for Jesus.  I don’t know how he gave sight to the blind, or walked on water, or fed five thousand plus people on a hillside. But I do believe it had something to do with the Holy Spirit alighting on him like a dove at his baptism.  Here’s the crazy thing—he said we would do even greater things than he did because he was sending us the Holy Spirit in his place when he went to sit with God the Father. 

We were commissioned to continue in Jesus’ stead.  We are the body of Christ now; we are the hands and feet.  The Holy Spirit gives us a variety of gifts to be used to continue Jesus’ mission on earth.  Can we restore sight to the blind? Well, maybe not literally but certainly figuratively as we share the good news that there is another way to walk through life beside Jesus.  Can we calm storms and walk on water? I’d love to see us try…but perhaps its those hands and feet that bring the calm and the compassion to our neighbors after the horrific natural disasters we experience.  Can we feed five thousand people at once? Our fellowship meals are bountiful, but I don’t know that we could fill quite that much. However, our mindfulness of human deprivation and our awareness of how we support societal structures that keep some people having plenty while others struggle is an important part of fighting hunger.  If everyone, every Christian did their part in their corner of the world, I bet we could move the needle for the benefit of all people.  If we used our God given grace-gifts for the benefit of all, the world would indeed be a better place.

Strangers in the land

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.   Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”

                                                                                                                           –Matthew 25:35-36, 40

While serving a meal at the shelter last week, a woman came through the line and broke down in tears.  A church member spoke to her for several minutes there at the counter, and then also went and sat down with her at a table for a little while. The woman said she was not from this area, but she did not have the means to get back home.  What a horrible situation to be in, it is hard for me to fathom what that would feel like.  I have been very far from home before and I have certainly been homesick, but to feel trapped in a situation where I could not make my way back to my safe place and the people I care about is unfathomable. 

In my blessing for the meal, I gave thanks to God for the mission—that it provides a place of shelter and warm meals for folks who need such care.  It was said on behalf of those present, but I must recognize that my uttering thanks for the mission is very different considering I drive there once a year in my SUV, carry in some hot food, maybe pour some drinks, say a prayer, and a few hours later return to my own home where my family is warm, fed, and safe. 

We are always thanked profusely for our serving of food at the mission. We pile plates with smiles and quickly welcome folks back for seconds.  Someone mentioned that while they are always grateful for all the meals provided, ours tasted particularly delicious.  That our food would be tasty is no surprise, but the fact the person indicated some meals are bland or without much effort given to preparation is sad to me.  It is important to remember one another’s humanity—to know that every individual present has a story and a hardship which we can never fully understand.  Our care to make a hearty meal that people want to eat, not just need to eat is important.  The way we engage is important.  The shelter will never be home—but we can make it as hospitable as possible.  If we could set every table with linen napkins and flower vases, wouldn’t that be lovely?  If we could fold fresh towels and crisp sheets for beds, wouldn’t that be lovely?  We’d do it for our house guests… could we do so elsewhere?

Having shelter and having a home are two very different things and the woman who was in tears punctuated that point. Surely, what a blessing to have a place where she could go-- but like the words of the Old Testament, she is an alien living in a strange land, this is not her home.   I will pray for her to find her way back and I hope you will too. 

 The truth is, maybe we are all a little bit far from home. If an eternal close relationship with God is our ultimate goal, we’ve all headed towards home, but we certainly are not there yet. In fact, I’d say many, many Christians are adrift. We’re all aliens in the “land of Egypt” if we think of the ways we are enslaved to a multitude of sins. But just as the Lord brought the Israelites out of the land of Egypt, God has a plan for our salvation too. We would do well to keep our eye on the prize, and as Paul says in Philippians 3:14, “press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Jesus Christ.”

Focus on the roots

It’s no secret that I have very fine hair.  We can thank my mother for this gift. When I blow-dry my hair, I often spritz it with volumizer. The instructions on the back of the bottle say to “focus on the roots for lift.”  Well now, isn’t that just a great phrase?

On Sunday morning after worship some folks were discussing how they wished they’d had their parents and grandparents record meaningful family stories, lineage, traditions, etc…because now they are the generation that has to pass those important things down to the up and coming.   Hmm… focus on the roots for lift.

We do this a lot at New Providence—focus on the roots-- I think, probably because I like history and I love the deep roots so many of our folks have in this community and this church.  When I asked our session to contemplate how long they’d been members of New Providence half of them asked, “can we just say lifetime?”

Amazing as that is, and as much as I love it, the goal isn’t just to keep everything and everyone the same for a lifetime.  We focus on the roots…for lift! We focus on the roots to make everything rise up, fresher and fuller than before! Eventually, we want to grow stronger as a congregation because there are more members here who are fully devoted Christians who were not born here than the life timers—then we’ll know we’ve focused on the roots, not for nostalgia, but for lift!

It will take attention to the roots to guide us though. What are the foundations and principles that brought us here, keep us here, and strengthen us in faith?  Those principles of generosity, hospitality, and service are evident—just to name a few.  We are committed to the Word of God, studying it and living it.  In today’s world that is no small thing.  But don’t hide it under a bushel friends, don’t think small.  Focus on the roots, not because they are familiar or comfortable—but focus on the roots for lift!