Talk With the Preacher

What can you do with a crumpled ball of aluminum foil, a clump of different colors of modeling clay all smashed together and various treasures discovered in Dad’s tool box?

Sam discovered this week you can do a pretty fine job of constructing a 3D model of an insect for your 3rd grade science project.

Please notice the careful detail included on this anatomically correct bee: hinged legs painstakingly constructed of nails and scotch tape; strategically placed tacks for labeling; dramatic wings (faux leaves from the craft box). I am not a parent who believes in doing a project for your child and then pretending that your child just happens to be a genius, a whiz on the computer, whatever. Thus you will note the homemade lettering.

And, I’d like to note here: Sam had special help with this project from our friend, Katie Harvey. (The parents initially involved in this science project are particularly grateful to her.)

With utter relief the whole family packed a very proud Sam and his 3D bee off to school this morning.

One more science project, done!

I guess I always knew church was a place folks came to hear assurances about the way the Gospel intersects their personal lives, but for whatever reason our recent sermon series in worship, called When God Hides, has struck a chord somewhere deep inside a whole lot of people.

I regularly receive feedback on worship but I don’t think I have had so many calls, emails, letters and conversations from so many people representing every spectrum of our congregation.

These people tell me how they’ve been impacted by just the acknowledgement that sometimes it feels like God is hiding, and that feeling tends to hit at the worst times . . . just at the times when we’re in pain, the times we especially need God to be very present in our lives.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised this resonates with so many. I’m the preacher and I’ve needed the reminder that God is present even in times when it feels like God is hiding. No more platitudes; no more hollow-sounding assurances. Just the acknowledgement that life is hard and that sometimes God feels so very distant.

Nicole Nordeman’s song Hold On seemed to fit right into the place many in our congregation find themselves lately–holding on to remember that God’s really there, somewhere. For sure.

It will find you at the bottom of a bottle
It will find you at the needle’s end
It will find you when you beg and steal and borrow
It will follow you into a stranger’s bed
It will find you when they serve you with the papers
It will find you when the locks have changed again
It will find you when you’ve called in all your favors
It will meet you at the bridge’s highest ledge

So baby don’t look down, it’s a long way
The sun will come around to a new day
So hold on
Love will find you
Hold on
He’s right behind you now
Just turn around
And love will find you

It will find you when the doctor’s head is shaking
It will find you in a boardroom, mostly dead
It will crawl into the foxhole where you’re praying
It will curl up in your halfway empty bed

Don’t you love it when you’re reading for pleasure and one sentence or two strikes you as so well-said that you have to write it down?

That happened to me this week as I began March by Geraldine Brooks. (I should have known there might be some good writing in the book since it did win the 2006 Pulitzer Prize.)

I stopped reading to mark the following, and made a vow to myself that I will use the word “knopped” in at least one sentence this week:

“But I do not immediately close my lap desk. I let it lie across my knees and continue to watch the clouds, their knopped masses blackened now in the almost lightless sky. No wonder simple men have always had their gods dwell in the high places. For as soon as a man lets his eye drop from the heavens to the horizon, he risks setting it on some scene of desolation.” (p. 4)

World Communion Sunday at Calvary found us celebrating communion with all different kinds of bread. The variety and diversity were tangible symbols of the differences represented when we gather around the table of Christ, especially on this day when we celebrate a worldwide communion.

To invite us all to the table we had members of our congregation from different world groups bring a representative loaf of bread from their culture, declare its meaning and then place it on the altar to represent the celebration of diversity.

Here are the affirmations of our people, along with the breads they brought:

African
I bring this bread remembering the families who till the soil Africa. As we celebrate our abundance in the body of Christ, let us prayerfully nourish those whose sub-Saharan harvests feed the world in the face of hunger.

Asian
I bring this bread and issue a call for justice-making. As we celebrate our liberation in the body of Christ, let us prayerfully release those in Burma and other parts of Asia who remain imprisoned and silenced.

Latin American
I bring this bread to celebrate the resilience of Latin American families here and beyond our borders. As we claim the sustenance found in the body of Christ, let us continue to prayerfully share God’s love with one another.

Middle Eastern
I bring this bread to resist the irreconcilable deeds thwarting peace in the Middle East. As we celebrate the promise of Jesus, the Prince of Peace, let us prayerfully dream of the inbreaking of God’s kingdom over all the earth.

When they finished bringing the bread our altar was piled high with a tangible, visible representation of the diversity of the Christian family. And as we shared the meal together we got just a taste of the common faith that brings us together.

Thanks be to God!

After watching The Simpson’s episode Life On the Fast Lane in Sunday School yesterday morning, we learned our assignment for the week was to think about someone we love and make sure to do something to show that person we love them.

This may sound like a no-brainer, but in my family it takes some pretty strange things to really show your love. I know what you’re thinking . . . fresh flowers, some candy, a sweet card . . . saying I love you can’t be that hard, can it?

Think again. This is what it takes to say I love you to my family:

Fresh guacamole (think: lots of chopping)

A whole afternoon with the kids away from the house so that all the electronic devices in the house may be simultaneously tuned to critical sporting matches and there will be no interruption of efforts to pay attention to all of them at the same time.

Pizza for dinner. Several nights in a row.

Loading the dishwasher, starting the dishwasher, emptying the dishwasher. Repeat.

A whole week of meals planned, cooked, and listed on the fridge before Mom heads out of town (starvation staved off again!)

Being excused from various “official” pastor spouse duties (He declared, “I don’t do public appearances!” but he does if I need him to. And he loves being excused.)

All the junk on the dining room table removed.

Help with homework.

Strange, huh?

But then I got to thinking how it is I know THEY love ME:

One warm little hand slipped into mine while we take a walk together.

All the laundry, done.

Excited kids at the front door when I get home.

Reading books together on the couch.

Family feedback on the sermon (they were listening!)

See . . . some of mine are pretty strange, too. Lucky for me that a lot of these are regular occurrences. That’s something to celebrate, which I plan to do . . . while I clean the junk off the dining room table!

It’s been far too long since I’ve recorded my thoughts here. Look for profound musings ahead on . . . World Communion Sunday, Clergy Appreciation Month, why Charleston, South Carolina is a hardship posting, and unconventional ways to say I love you. Coming soon . . . !