What is it about PIZZA? 

I know that I’m not in college, nor am I in my 20s, anymore but PIZZA still seems to be “God’s Perfect Food” (aside from bacon and M&Ms).  I just had some with friends the other night and thought once more: “What IS it about “Pizza”?

At first, I thought it was the compact design. It’s meat (sometimes), cheese, tomato and grains…really, not a bad combination. I LIVED and SURVIVED on PIZZA in college, and not just PIZZA, but PIZZA at 9:00pm, midnight, and sometimes for breakfast.  I love pepperoni,  but THAT’S not draws me to it. I really have always loved cheese…but even THAT isn’t where the “magic” is, necessarily. How about the crust? Well, it IS a bread product and I always crave more of that – but even THAT isn’t what calls to me.

Then I stepped back and took a look from a distance. I saw that PIZZA isn’t only a food, it is a common denominator for getting together with people…relaxing, visiting, and connecting with friends and family.

When I was a high school student in the 70s pizza parlors were a very popular thing – even in my small-ish hometown. It was during those years I was introduced to not only the “superfood” that would keep me alive in later years, but the entire societal structure of “Pizza”.

There were a group of us who met at a great place I can still see in my minds eye. It wasn’t really about the pizza, although delicious, it was the moment...it was the time together.  We would laugh (if you can imagine any friends of mine gathering for laughter…I know, difficult to believe) at the big, highly-glossed wooden tables, to the sounds of “PONG” (remember THAT video game?), “GALAGA”, OR “PACMAN”.  In the background, the latest BILLY JOEL or ELTON JOHN single would be playing. And we all knew we would pay for this time away from homework, or studying for a test, the next day.

In college, the pattern continued: friends together actually DOING homework, or meeting after an event, or late, late at night (sometimes working on papers THROUGH the night, and more often than not, cold PIZZA was my breakfast of choice) but always, laugher, love, friendship, work…together, in a community where we got to know each other and became involved in each other’s lives.  It wasn’t in class that this happened, it was around…

…a pizza.  Its round shape/wheel/hub, connecting all of us…it is more than food, it is “LIVE”.

Isn’t that sort of thing what life is all about?

As strange, as flip, or as funny as it seems, the answer is probably, “YES”. Jesus wants it that way…not PIZZA particularly, but ANYTHING that will get us connecting with each other.

Being a BELIEVER & FOLLOWER (sometimes labeled as, “being a Christian”) requires us to understand that OUR faith journey with Jesus is not ABSTRACT, but ACTION.

It is not CONTEMPLATIVE, but COMMUNITY.

It is not SOLITARY, but SOCIAL.

Our faith is NOT faith unless, and until, it is PRACTICED WITH OTHERS.

Why do you think that the most significant lesson about Jesus’ connection and gift to you and me is a meal?  Because it’s not supposed to be ONLY between He and you (or me), but with you, me, and others…that’s why it’s called “Communion” (as in, “community”, “commune”, “communist”- OK, maybe THAT’s not the best word…but the other two work well).

PIZZA: It’s a communal food.  All great chefs will tell you that there is a difference between “eating” and “dining“. “Eating” gives you nourishment, and can be done alone.  “Dining” is an event which transcends the meal itself.  “Dining” is an event to be shared between people around you, around a table, perhaps around a pizza.

We are here, in this place and time, to realize that as spirits with a body (and not visa versa) the only true “currency” that is eternal, is “relationship” and love. If PIZZA will get you to look in the face of another person – to laugh, cry, love and share with them – then Jesus’ words “Love one another” will be realized AND practiced...and HE will be loved and known. 

We who BELIEVE & FOLLOW the One God need more “pizza” in our lives…because we need more of each other in our lives, so we can “see” Jesus.

(P.S. – I am not a paid spokesperson for SCAMPY’S ANNEX, simply a happy customer wishing you more, quality, “Pizza Time”)

I’ve learned some things in my almost 67 years; things about others AND things about myself.  For instance:

• Sometimes I eat because I just want something to do.
• I can throw my back out simply by sitting on the couch.
• Learning new skills is exhausting, the older you get.
• Some people seem work hard at being ignorant.
• I’m glad I love my house AND my spouse.
• (From watching NETFLIX British crime dramas) Why am I not living in England? (And a codicil) Of course, if I DID live there, I certainly wouldn’t want to live in one of those small, quaint “one-pub” villages that has a murder every week!
• Cats are the actual owners here.
• TV Chefs have a different definition of, “Quick and easy” than I do.
• I’ve learned what IS and what IS NOT “essential”.

It’s the question of the day: “Is it essential?” 

Of course, “Essential” is looked at by every person in a subjective way; what seems essential for me may not be essential for you.  

For me, bacon is essential…but that’s just me, I suppose.

ESSENTIAL – “of the utmost importance” (MERRIAM-WEBSTER) 

What is “essential” for the Believer & Follower of Jesus? 

GOOGLE that question and you’ll find as many answers as there are televangelists in Georgia.  Again, it SEEMS like a subjective question: , each denomination and church seems to have a different idea about essentials for those of us who Believe & Follow.

But I disagree, I don’t think it’s as complicated as the Church or Church leaders would like to make it. I believe the recorded words of Jesus, and the words of scripture as we read them, are quite clear about the “essentials”.

Now, you know I don’t like to take any scripture out of context, but a good place to start is with the prophet, MICAH.

A minor prophet, MICAH lived during the reign of three Judean kings and spoke specifically to them in their time and place.  At one point, however, he addresses (with Providential authority) all humanity:

“Mankind (humanity), He has told you what is good and what it is the Lord (“YHWH”: self-Existent or Eternal; name of God) requires (requests/asks) of you: to act justly, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.”
MICAH 6:8 

But isn’t there MORE to it than that?  For those of us who grew up in the Church, in the 1970s, there were “The Four Spiritual Laws” which showed the method by which we chose to Believe & Follow Jesus. Based on a variety of scriptures, these were a good start…but then some thought some talk about behavior is essential, while others believe that regular attendance in church or tithing is essential.  Add to that the denominational differences of frequency of sacraments and public baptism…you can see where it can get a little out of hand.

What about Jesus?  What does HE say?  After all, the whole of scripture prior to His birth points to HIM.  And the whole of scripture following His resurrection and ascension comments on HIM.  I think what HE says takes precedent over all else.

What should one do to “become” a Believer & Follower?  Jesus took each person where they were and sometimes asked things of one that he didn’t ask of another – based on who they were, and what they needed. But the simplest exchange was on the cross.  The insurrectionist hanging with Jesus said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into Your Kingdom.” (LUKE 23:42-43) And Jesus simply answered that he (the insurrectionist) and Jesus would be together in God’s garden, sooner rather than later.  No “Four Spiritual Laws”, no Church attendance, no tithing, nada, the man simply acknowledged he believed Jesus was who He said He was, and asked for a favor.  That was it.

When it comes to everyday living, however, it seems to be even simpler.  Jesus was, and is, explicit in two places.  FIRST, in His description of the last days (MATTHEW 25:34-40) there is no talk of denominations, church attendance, sacraments, etc.  It’s simple: “take care of those around you, love them, that’s how you love Me.”

SECOND, Jesus told His disciples plainly, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (JOHN 13:34-35) 

What is “essential” for “Believers & Followers”?  LOVE is essential.  LOVE; the “agape” that chooses to love no matter what and no matter who.  That LOVE is not based on emotion, but based on action. LOVE is essential because it covers all, it heals, and God IS love.

Our denomination, THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH (DISCIPLES OF CHRIST) talks about “essentials” a lot. We quote (as do many other denominations) Marco Antonio de Dominis (d. 1624) when it comes to life with others, and essentials:

“In necessariis unitas, in dubiis libertas, in omnibus caritas.”
“In essentials, unity. In non-essentials, freedom. In all things, love.”

In this time & place when the mere sound of a voice, a smile, the eyes, or the touch of a hand have become so valuable – let’s remember the “essential” thing – LOVE one another.

“Do not let the sun set on your anger.”

Biblically speaking, anger is not a sin. However, unresolved anger leads to a multitude of sins that invites disrespect of others as a child of God. So, the Apostle Paul wrote to the Ephesian congregation, “Be angry, but sin not, do not let the sun set on your anger.”. (Eph. 4:26-27). Keep in mind that this admonition is directed toward personal anger and does not address righteous anger against injustice and unfairness.

What happens when anger sets at the end of the day instead of the sun? If anger is forgiven or released by sunset, then anger has no power to create havoc and chaos in personal life and throughout the community. If anger is released before sunset, peaceful existence comes with the dawn of another day. The next day begins with agape, willing ourselves to love others.

BUT if anger sets…. instead of the sun.???

Anger sets like wet cement just poured into a mold. Anger hardens. Anger is heavy, like a weight shackled to the ankle. When anger sets, one’s worldview (the lens through which one views the world) and one’s actions, thoughts, behavior, and disposition are guided by the weight of a set and gelled anger.

The story of the Crucifixion of our Lord Jesus Christ serves as an example. The promise of a Messiah who will bring a kingdom without end became, over the centuries, not a brave new world of God’s reign on earth that is breaking in among us, but a political kingdom for Israel that would become far greater than the glorified reign of King David. Over the centuries since the prophets spoke of a coming Messiah (“anointed” one, as an earthly King is anointed), this interpretation stiffened like poured cement to the point that no one dared to question this understanding of Old Testament prophecy. Anger toward anyone who dared to voice a different interpretation hardens quickly.

Jesus dared to paint a different picture of the Messiah.

First, He, Jesus, was the Messiah! Such a thought was the worst sort of blasphemy! How dare He to hint at such a thing!

Second, Jesus taught that the Messiah would rule a kingdom without end, and this Kingdom would include all nations and all peoples. How dare He to paint such a picture of God and His Kingdom because the descendants of Abraham alone were the chosen ones!

Third, Jesus taught that the Kingdom of God was “without end” WOW! If Jesus implied that He was the Messiah, and that He would rule “forever and ever”, then the anger will inevitably erupt. AND ERUPT IT DID!!!!

ANGER took over! First, in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus was arrested by the guards of the Sanhedrin, the Jewish High Court. Anger has a way of setting its own rules! Anger ignores law…even by those who enforce the law. So, anger justified, without a second thought, a trial at night (not allowed by law) AND a trial without two witnesses in defense (the Law required two witnesses for the defense). And without the consent of the full Sanhedrin, the Chief Priest rent his clothes and declared Jesus to be guilty. The punishment was death. The heat of anger melts all safeguards to fairness and impartiality.

BUT there was one problem. Since the Romans took over Jerusalem and Palestine some thirty years before Jesus was born, the Sanhedrin could not enforce a death sentence. Hence, the appeal to Pilate, the Roman governor. AH! Pleas before Pilate was that Jesus claimed to be a KING! Surely Jesus as a King was an affront to Rome…Roman government surely could not allow anyone to make such a claim of kingship. So anger was used to incite anger as a crowd hostile to Jesus gathered in the courtyard of Pilate.

“Crucify Him!” cried the crowd gathered around in Pilate’s Court. Pilate, desperate to avoid a decision that would entrap him, asked, “Who would you rather I release to you, Barabbas or Jesus? 

Barabbas was an insurrectionist, one who rebelled against the rule of Rome. “Barabbas!” the crowd shouted. And the anger of the crowd led to the release of a criminal who neither voiced nor acted in remorse…as anger defeats reason.

As a postscript to the whole sordid affair of the crucifixion trial of Jesus, Pilate, in a way, had the last word by an “earthly ruler.” Pilate had the words, “King of the Jews” attached to the cross of Jesus. Naturally, the Sanhedrin complained, they wanted the sign to be changed…. they wanted it to read “HE SAID HE WAS KING OF THE JEWS” Please don’t miss the irony! Jesus never admitted to being the King of the Jews in the trial at night before the Sanhedrin…nor anywhere else! Jesus taught that God would give Him (Jesus) the Kingdom of God composed of ALL NATIONS and ALL PEOPLES of All TIME AND ETERNITY. Both Pilate and the Sanhedrin UNDERSTATED the width and breadth of the Kingdom.

And so it is. Whether it be family, community, national, or global, power and decision making is too often disrupted by by anger that sets, hardens, stiffens, and becomes unyielding as sunset after sunset passes. Anger is not nurtured, rather it feeds on itself until the world…as well as angry persons…become hostile. At the end of the day, what sets???, one’s anger or the sun????

At the Lord’s Table, Elders offer thanks that Christ laid down His life for us. We ministers preach that Christ died for us. But the rest of the story is God raised Him (Jesus) from the dead and placed Him in Heaven with all power….and especially the power to grant eternal life (zoe) to those who enjoy the sunset because all anger is gone, and one discovers daily the amazing peace of agape love…which we, by choice, will and choose over the power of anger…..The Psalmist declared, “Joy cometh in the morning”…and this joy is experienced by those who let the sun, not anger, set in the evening sky. 

And we call this marvelous experience…RESURRECTION!

PALM SUNDAY.  I have some wonderful memories associated with this day and time.  My Dad was the choir director at my home church, for several years, and Palm Sunday evening was often the performance of the annual CHOIR CANTATA (usually one by John W. Peterson…for all of you folks who remember his standards from church choir repertoire in the 1950s & ’60s).  Also, Mom was the resident playwright and director for some truly awesome church productions, complete with soldiers, disciples and angels.  As an only child, I was usually involved in all of that, just because if Mom & Dad were at the church, so was I.  Later, when I was writing music, Palm Sunday and Holy Week became the times when some of my own music was performed at worship…some of those pieces are still some of my personal favorites.

Then, of course, my all-time favorite PALM SUNDAY was more than three decades ago when my oldest son, Cameron, was born (I think that was the only time in my life I’ve missed a Palm Sunday Worship Service). 

It may be just me but growing up in a church family and experiencing Palm Sunday processionals as a child, just as the weather was warming up, enjoying the “dramatic” and “musical” events…it was (and still is) like Christmas in that no matter what else is going on in the world, this is a time set aside for celebration.

One particular Palm Sunday, during my college days in Seattle when my irreverence during serious occasions was maturing, was quite amusing.  During our worship we began with a processional from the back; first the choir (I was a tenor, in the back row), children with palm branches, and then the Pastoral Staff who were all participating in the worship leading.  Most of the staff at the time (I was the Office Manager at this point) were young, and then there was a more mature woman on staff as well, as our professional Church Counselor.  We all took our places and the service began.  The Senior Pastor stepped to the pulpit and addressed the full sanctuary with words of greeting and led in a responsive reading (the usual, from the Gospels, recounting the Jerusalem processional).

Suddenly, jumping from her seat next to the song leader, our Counseling Pastor, during a calm part of the reading, quickly moved to the center of the platform and started, what seemed like, an odd sort of tap dance (on the carpet).  Everything stopped.  We stared, during what seemed like hours, trying to figure out if she was having some sort of Pentecostal moment (surely not), or spasm, (a very fun and rhythmic one, if that was it) or just what.  When suddenly a small girl in the front of the sanctuary jumped up and yelled excitedly, “A dance!” as she started clapping and “dancing” along with our Associate Pastor.

 Well, by that time, the confused congregation (especially those of us in the choir and close to the front) weren’t certain about what to do.  By that time our female Associate had stopped “dancing” and was watching the little girl.  She then moved down a couple of steps to the girl, took her hands and started to dance with her.  The pianist began to play the song we had just sung, and some clapping began.  We began to get caught up in this strange, impromptu dance party, in the middle of what had been a carefully planned worship service.

The whole thing lasted only a moment.  When the song ended everyone clapped, and our Associate moved to the pulpit to explain that one of the candles had lit a palm frond end on fire and a little ember had floated down to the carpet where it began to burn.  Our vigilant Associate was the only one who noticed.  Thereby, she jumped from her seat, scurried to the burning carpet and began stomping it out with her high-heeled feet.  It wasn’t apoplexy or the Holy Spirit…it was a small fire…which looked to us like a dance from a person for whom dancing wasn’t a part of her perceived nature.

But for that moment a misunderstood action turned into a spontaneous dance party and the agenda was set aside.

Two-thousand years ago, Jesus could have stopped the procession on the way to Jerusalem and given everyone a lesson in WHY He was entering Jerusalem, and WHAT He was going to do. But, for the crowds at least, He let it go, He let them celebrate.  They were misinterpreting what was going on, but Jesus didn’t stop the praise, and knew it was futile to try.  He also understood there is a time for everything, present circumstances don’t override expressions of joy.

In THE Kingdom, at least, there is ALWAYS a reason to dance.

That is, I guess, what the pageantry, music and drama of PALM SUNDAY and HOLY WEEK are for me.  No matter what else is going on in the world, and much of the world around us is in chaos, because of who HE is, and because of WHAT is certain and sure in our future…it IS appropriate to interrupt the agenda and dance.

So…dance, like everyone is watching.

In 2013 my parents passed away within months of each other.  Being an only child (which was wonderful, by the way) I had the task of going through things when my Mom passed and I moved my Dad back here with me to Indiana for the few months prior to his passing.

I had the singular joy (sarcasm emoji here) of going through photos, documents, memories, and deciding what to take with me and what to sell in the “Estate Sale” (a pretentious word for items contained in a rented ranch house).  Most things were items I had grown up with, things that brought back some good memories, things I had forgotten about, things I hadn’t realized my folks had saved, things that carried good and true memories of the wonderful life I had with my parents.

When I finally got to Mom & Dad’s personal things; wallets, stuff they kept in the top drawer of their bedroom dresser, etc. I discovered things I didn’t know about.  There were the wedding rings and wallet photos, etc. but there were other surprising things.

In context: both of my parents worked for the U.S. Government, in a town that was owned and run by the government until 1960 when it became the independent town of Richland, Washington.  Dad was an Army MP at Camp Hanford, the guardians of “Area 300” which held the secret “Button Factory” (that’s what the public was told) which made plutonium buttons for “the bomb”.  My mother, after graduating from business school, was hired as a secretary for the government-sub-contracted, General Electric Company, and then the Atomic Energy Commission (eventually re-named the D.O.E.).  I tell you all of this because I knew they began their lives together working for secret things, in a secret town.

So, I wasn’t surprised to find my Dad’s army dog tags among the personal items, but I was surprised to find that Mom had dog tags also…issued to her, not because she was married to Dad, but because she worked for the government, sometimes in secret, to ensure the safety of the U.S. during the cold war.

Dog tags’ purpose is to identify the “wearer” when they become a casualty of war.  To wear a dog tag means that you have committed to “give over your life” and you wear that commitment around your neck.

Also, in my Mom’s wallet, was the ragged card she had carried around since 1950.  It is the government-issue directive to any agents of the government, post-war and during the cold war.  It is printed bullet point directions for surviving an atomic attack, an artillery attack, and a chemical attack.  One was to carry it with them all the time…just in case.  In each scenario the last bullet point said, “Continue with your mission.”

I recently ran across these dog tags again.  I thought about the commitment my Mom & Dad made – which they really never spoke about to me – to live out to the point of death for service to their country.  Would I be willing to do the same, to “put on the dog tags” making a commitment to not only live, but die, for something?

And yet…

That is exactly how Jesus describes the type of LIFE and LOVE offered to us, and expected from us, when we agree to live in the Kingdom. 

“No one has greater love (agape) than this, that someone would lay down (tithemi) his life (psyche) for his friends.” John 15:13

This too-familiar verse speaks exactly to this concept.  I say “too familiar” because we sometimes misinterpret, or assume, it’s meaning from having heard it so often.   AGAPE is the “love that is given despite feeling”.  It is, in effect, “love by choice” to those who cannot or will not love back.  TITHEMI is translated to “lay down”, but also means “to present” or “to commit”.  But the key word here is PSYCHE, which is simply translated to the English, “life”.  This isn’t the “full life in Jesus”. That word is ZOE.  It isn’t our “physical” life/body, that word is BIOS.  No, this word could be translated as “life force/mind/heart/soul”; OR everything that a person truly is.

In other words, the verse may be more accurately translated to: “No one chooses a greater love toward others than this, that they live out their entire lives, even to the point of pouring it out completely in death, for their friends, neighbors, circles of influence.”

It’s about choosing to “put on the dog tags”; committing to not ONLY die physically, but to SERVE while living.  To “put on the dog tags” is to say good-bye to one’s physical life even before death.  It is a commitment to serve the “country” of THE KINGDOM OF GOD.

There is no half-way.  To BELIEVE Jesus is the Son of God, who died, rose, and is coming back…but not FOLLOW Him, is not much of a commitment.  To FOLLOW Him, ignorant of the price, or unwilling to “put on the dog tags” is something that Jesus Himself teaches against many times – “count the cost” He says again and again.  And so we must BOTH BELIEVE AND FOLLOW if we are to have any life at all.

Mom & Dad’s dog tags contain their identities, their birthdates…and their “religion” (so they could be buried appropriately, when their bodies were found…after they “completed their missions”). 

MY prayer is that my “friends” will know…without having to SEE my dog tags…that I am committed to “live out my very life-force, to the point of physical death” for them.  If I have to advertise it, I’m not doing it very well.

What about you?  Are you willing to put on the dog tags?

So, this upcoming Sunday is what I call, “FERN SUNDAY” (an unofficial observance of my own; the Sunday before Palm Sunday.) Now, this is simply another “colorful” event I remember from my strange life; something to bring a smile and maybe provoke a thought or two during these weird times.  It’s a story of rebellion, of “church politics” and the seed of tradition…and it is set during LENT.

When I was a Freshman and Sophomore in College, I had my first actual “church job” that didn’t involve my home church.  I was hired by a very wealthy congregation to be one of four section leader/soloists for their aging choir.  This was the first congregation I belonged to that was not the church of my family, nor was it the denomination I had grown up with.  It was a very enlightening (in a good way) experience for me, and my own formation as a Believer & Follower.

Being one of the few “young” people (read: anyone under 60) at this large and established congregation I gravitated to the other few who were close in age…one was another paid member of the choir, and one was his girlfriend who also attended.  We would gather after worship and chat/mock/chill in the mammoth, two-story, parlor behind the chancel area.

This church building was beautiful.  A former synagogue/temple, it had been “converted” to a Christian worship space with magnificent carvings, paintings, stained-glass windows, and an epic pipe organ.  The choir sat in the back balcony with the organist, and so could observe everything.  The worship was traditional to the extreme and well done, but a little stiff and stodgy.  The people were warm, gracious, and very, very thankful for any youngsters that were in attendance, so we always got lots of love and food.

The congregation eased into LENT, a church observance I had NEVER experienced, so I paid attention to every fascinating detail of the “traditional mainline protestant” observance.

First off, the sanctuary was always filled with the most impressively large floral decorations I had ever seen in a sanctuary.  The first Sunday I sang in worship I had assumed there had been a wedding in the sanctuary the Saturday before, there was SO MUCH “flora” tucked into every conceivable place…but no, I quickly found out there was a “flower lady” who took great care each Saturday to deck the sanctuary like the Garden of Eden.  She had a well-known floral shop and used her buying power to procure everything we saw.  I honestly don’t know if she donated or charged the church, but I DO know she was a “force to be reckoned with” as she was in the choir, and dictated which color stoles the choir wore on which Sunday.  She appeared to be the “Martha Stewart” of the congregation.

In any case, LENT arrived, suddenly and shockingly.  The sanctuary was stripped of greenery AND flowers.  I stood amazed at how large the sanctuary actually was when there wasn’t a forest taking up much of the space.  Dark purple decked the pulpit, the lectern, the windows, and the walls…but even with all of that, the place was “bare Lenten bones”.

The Flower Lady was not a fan of LENT.  She complained, starting on Ash Wednesday and continuing throughout the 40-day observance, about the “sad music”, the “dull sermons”, and especially the “lack of beauty” (read: “flowers”).  The “youngsters” (me, and the other chosen few) for whom this congregation was new, appreciated the humor of her, probably more than the saints who had been attending since the founding of America.  So, when she wasn’t amused, they weren’t either.

It seems that finally, on the Sunday before PALM SUNDAY, she’d had it.  We walked into the sanctuary (the choir was one of the first there each Sunday) to what looked like the bar at the local “Holiday Inn” (not that I ever was ever THERE, but I’d seen pictures): it was wood, brass and ferns, ferns, ferns…everywhere.

Yes, it seems, without permission, she had taken it upon herself to ease the congregation back into the woodland glade that was the usual setting for us in the sanctuary.  The fact there were suddenly ferns in the sanctuary did not sit well with the Minister, the Board, or the other woman, who understood fully how LENT may be ruined for everyone if it wasn’t “plain and bare” up to PALM SUNDAY.  It began what turned into a yearly struggle (so I’m told, since I moved to Seattle the next year…but kept in touch.)

Oh, I didn’t tell you another important fact…her name was, appropriately, “Fern”.

And so, for me at least, the Sunday before PALM SUNDAY has always been “FERN SUNDAY”.  Here at CCC we have (well, I have) carried on that tradition and placed ferns out, to make sure we’re not all too shocked to worship on PALM SUNDAY when the palms are put out.

I don’t advocate stirring up trouble in church, especially by stamping on people’s traditions (unless moved to do so by the Spirit).  I also don’t advocate one person’s tastes and traditions over the traditions and tastes of the “community” (unless you’re the Pastor, then you can do whatever you want…just kidding).  But what amazes me most about this story is…that I’m telling it.  We put out ferns each Sunday before PALM SUNDAY…and all because of a woman who wouldn’t remember me from Adam, if she is still alive, which I doubt.  But here I am, changed, calling the Sunday before Palm Sunday “Fern Sunday” because of her, and something she did.

It reminds me of the power all of us must affect the lives around us, for better or worse.  Every word we say, every action we take, is heard, and observed…and in some cases, is absorbed.  Words are power, actions speak louder than words, and people are still the greatest influencers of other people.

Fern only impressed this great story on me, her actions and words are not something I aspire to…and, in a way, she taught me how NOT to speak or behave around others. But there are many other people whose words may have been fewer, and actions smaller who have influenced me even more:

The sixth-grade kid who watched my fourth-grade play and told me I needed to be on stage – I remembered that. 

The shoe salesmen who sold me my first pair of “big boy” shoes and called me “tiger” – I remembered that. 

The first person who looked me in the eye and said, “I love you.” – I remembered that.

…and I will always remember the five people who greeted me that first Sunday I stepped through the doors of Central Christian Church in June of 2006.

I hope and pray that we will emerge from LENT with a renewed and greater appreciation of each other’s smile and voice.  As we learn what is truly important, I hope we hear the Scripture’s words about the effect we have on one another – through our words, our prayers, and our love.

I’m a history buff…I really enjoy “historic trivia”, as you know: interesting but useless information.  Of course, I can’t seem to remember Birthdays, Anniversaries, my license plate number or important stuff like that…but let me read about Queen Victoria’s cousin’s dog and I’ll remember that till the day I die!

This month (March 4^th, to be exact) in 1861 Abraham Lincoln was inaugurated President of the United States. Now, we at Central are kind of connected to this event.  There is a newspaper, in our collection of historic items stored upstairs, on which the front page not only lists our “charter” but also has a schedule of the LINCOLN/DOUGLAS DEBATES in neighboring Illinois, in case anyone wanted to travel by train to get there.

For all the greatness the patina of time has put on Lincoln, I have some southern ancestors who considered Lincoln the “anti-Christ”, vilifying him for using scripture to condone aggression…as if that hadn’t been done before.  I’m not sure I agree with that side of my family, however, God’s name gets used to justify acts that are Godly…or sometimes, not.

Poor God.

I think He can take care of Himself, but truly…He gets blamed for some stupidly human things.

The scripture was used to argue that all planets revolved around the earth (including the sun) and anyone who taught differently was a heretic. The scripture has been (and in some places still IS) used to argue that the earth was flat, that Jews are evil, that anyone of dark skin doesn’t have a soul, that slavery is ordained by God, that women should not allowed to lead or speak in church…or anywhere else…and we all know many things the scripture is used to argue against these days.

Poor God.

In all of the effort to justify our own prejudices and keep the world around us from growing, from expanding, from changing…we use God as our excuse, and translate the Bible into our own “language”…we use His name in vain as we stamp it on all of our agendas with their conditions and clauses that keep people we don’t like at arms’ length.  It’s been happening for centuries, and we still do it…even, and sometimes especially, in the Church.

Part of the problem, I believe, is that most of us have a picture of God that is too small.  We have a box that we put Him in, and He won’t be kept in a box.  When He behaves beyond the definition that we have kept in our own minds and paradigms, we question whether that is really Him.  Is His grace really that large?  Is His Kingdom really that expansive?  Is His love really that unconditional?  Is His reality and His universe really that infinite?

Praise God.

The answer, of course, is to give God back His good name.  That’s what PRAISE is, it is “telling Him who He is”, not because HE needs to know, but because WE need to be reminded.  PRAISE gives Him back His good name.  PRAISE is to be done in front of other people.

PRAISE Him, in front of others, because many people erroneously believe that these statements are “Godly”, when they don’t come from His mouth:

“Grace is only afforded to those who go to church.”

“Love is only given to those who follow the rules.”

“Your heart might be in the right place, but if you make the wrong decision or make one too many mistakes, I won’t love you anymore.”

No! Our Father and His Son Jesus both say:

“My grace is sufficient.”

“God so loved THE WORLD…” and

“Humanity looks on the outside, but God looks on the heart.”

He is the God who LOVES us, individually, and yet doesn’t LABEL us into categories that erase our individual and unique natures.

The scripture is one witness to God.  There are many others: the congregation, the Spirit, God’s nature…for example.  And all these witnesses, combined, still don’t encompass the entirety of God’s being.  So who are WE to label HIM?  Who are WE to decide who He loves, or who He blesses?

Hopefully we, at Central, have gotten beyond the place where we use the scripture to do anything but find a foundation, a beginning, a connection with our Creator & Sustainer, and fills us with His own breath to show us (when we are able to see) His Kingdom on earth, as we follow Him.

Let us never misuse His words to argue our own agenda because we have chosen to be the judge of our fellow travelers on earth.

Let us never assume that God fits into our little box of godliness.

Let us always seek for the wonderful, the surprising, and the untamed God that truly allows us to learn for ourselves that the earth is a part of the wonderful universal dance HE put in place, and there is more to this life than we will ever know until we sit down to dinner in the age to come.

Let us celebrate the God who doesn’t put us “into a box” (as we do with Him, often), but removes our chains, calls us His, and sets us free…even when that freedom sometimes causes us to make bad decisions…He loves us because of who HE is, not who WE are.

For me, working in the theatre is almost the same as being involved with a church congregation: it’s a bunch of diverse people getting together with a variety of talents and gifts, and one single purpose.  Through the process of designing, planning, rehearsing, building, sewing, and creating, actors “bond” with one another and a new community is formed.  That’s one of the main reasons I love it and have for most of my adult life.

Theatre also feeds the process of teaching, through observing human nature.  Like I always say, God will speak to you in whatever way you’ll listen.  The theatre, and people involved, have (knowingly and unknowingly) taught me a lot about God, about life, and about love.

When I am rehearsing a show.  I am reminded of situations I’ve had before.  One example, one “epiphany”, presented itself to me.

Often, in theatre where volunteers are involved (people with lives outside of the theatre) someone will need to miss a rehearsal and someone else will need to fill in that night.  In one rehearsal I attended, the striking, tall, blonde leading lady with the golden voice was absent and the Assistant Director to the show was obliged to step in, script-in-hand, and sub for her.  The leading lady had a few love scenes, a couple of beautiful songs, and a dance – and the script consistently spoke of her character’s beauty, especially with the line, “She’s an elegant strain of music in the moonlight…with blonde hair”.  Now, the Assistant Director was a round, 55-ish man, balding with a huge mustache and beard…his “uniform” was sweatshirt and jeans.  And no one would want to hear him sing.

During one moment in the rehearsal, one of the actors, in character and speaking with his impeccable British accent, turned to him and said, “You’re the ugliest strain of music in the moonlight with blonde hair I’ve ever seen!”  EVERYONE, including the Assistant Director, laughed.  No one was hurt or offended.

I catalogued the moment.

Everyone laughed.  HE laughed.  Why?  Because it was obvious to everyone, including the Assistant Director in question, that he was neither a woman, tall, blonde, or exactly “beautiful”.  He wasn’t hurt.  Far from it – HE thought it was hilarious.  Everyone enjoyed the joke.  The Assistant Director thought it was funny because he KNEW he wasn’t an “elegant strain of music in the moonlight, with blonde hair.”

Instead, he KNEW who he was.

WORDS are power, and sometimes WORDS do hurt.  In my lifetime I’ve been hit with some ugly and ignorant words.  We’ve all heard the “sticks and stones” phrase, even though experience tells us words are powerful, with a power to be used for good or bad.  So how do we protect ourselves against words that hurt, opinions about us that are untrue?  Do we fight back? Well, we don’t need to.

But we do need to know who we are.  If someone told me I was an ugly tall blonde woman I’m not sure I would be angry, because the accusation is so ridiculous.  I know I’m not tall, blonde, or female.  They couldn’t hurt me with that “insult” because it is so far from who I actually am that it’s silly.

So, why are we hurt when someone says something unkind to us or about us that is clearly not true?  I believe there are a couple of reasons:

1. We are too concerned about what other people think about us, and
2. We are insecure in ourselves about who we really are and think we need validation from others,
to be spectacular. 

When a person decides God is who He says He is, and they realize that Jesus is His Son, and God-in-the-Flesh – and decide to follow Him, they become who HE says they are.  And God calls us His children.  This is the same God who spoke the word “light” and there was light.  When He speaks it…it is so.  He thinks you’re the most spectacular bit of stardust He has breathed life into – that it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.  Others don’t have the final say about your life, and neither do they sit on the throne of the universe.

But what about the loudest voice of all, your own?  The scripture assumes that we all love ourselves, sometimes. “Love your neighbor as yourself.” assumes that you love yourself.  We all know that isn’t always the case.  We are our own worst enemies when it comes to believing in our own significance. What is the answer?

Go back to point one; God decides your worth…but He also inhabits your very soul, because it is worthy of Him.  Or at least HE believes so. And, because we belong to Him, we assure that hurtful words never come out of OUR mouths.

When I know who I am and where my “significance” comes from, there isn’t a word anyone can say to penetrate that armor of love and truth, I cannot be permanently armed.  Of course, we need to be honest about our abilities and inabilities, not think TOO highly of ourselves, and not compare ourselves with others.  We must be able to accept unconditional (and it actually MEANS unconditional”) love.  And we must continually practice life within those parameters. It TAKES practice, it won’t happen all at once.

I thank both the theatre and the church for helping me grow my imagination, share my talents, and for speaking God’s Truth to me…in the language(s) I hear.  With that God-given imagination, and in a very “theatrical” way, I see Jesus at the bottom of that hill in Israel called “Mount of the Beatitudes”. In a moment He looks up at me; one lost man in the sea of thousands on the hill that day, and says, “You are the salt of the earth.  You are the light of the world”…

…and I realize, sometimes God has more faith in me than I do in Him. 

Be well, go shine, and remember who you are.

I don’t know if you’ve seen the “11 Seasons of Indiana” (here they are, for your information):

1. Winter
2. Fool’s Spring
3. Pot Hole Period
4. Second Winter
5. Spring of Deception/Pot Hole Season 2
6. Third Winter
7. Actual Spring/Pot Hole Season 3
8. Summer
9. False Autumn
10. Second Summer (1 Week)
11. Actual Autumn
    

 …but POTHOLE SEASON seems to hang on (like a bad cough) through the entire cycle of seasons in a year.

Potholes; the inevitable result of cold and moisture slowly, insidiously, working its way into the pavement and breaking it apart (there’s a sermon right there!). Some years ago I replaced not one, but TWO tires due to those “satanic land-mines of doom”.

However, since I do believe that all Spiritual Truths have a Physical Metaphor, I looked (as I was standing by the side of the road last year waiting for AAA) for a lesson in the pothole. Actually, I didn’t have to use a lot of imagination.  The picture was pretty clear.

POTHOLE SYMBOLISM – If one looks at a Pothole as the inevitable obstruction along the road of life – caused by whatever reason – then some metaphors immediately come to mind:

• Take Potholes seriously. If I hit one, it’s not just hole in the road, it could cause enough damage to hurt me, hurt YOU, AND make it impossible for me to get anywhere down the road.  Sometimes I don’t take “pitfalls” seriously enough.  Humans make mistakes. Life deals cards that are sometimes a good hand and sometimes not.  But if we don’t preparefor obstacles (before they happen), we don’t take the consequences seriously enough and are hit twice as hard.  Let’s not get so secure in our protection from God that we forget what life around us is like…and prepare for it.  Again, like the Apostle Paul says, “put on the whole armor…SO THAT WHEN THE DAY COMES…”

• I may not be able to prevent them, but I can sometimes avoid them. When it comes to poor choices or “walking close to the edge”, how many pitfalls in life could I avoid if I just avoided getting close?  Temptation not in my control is one thing (and, since we know Jesus was tempted, and Jesus didn’t sin, then temptation alone is not a sin), but what I call “tempting temptation”is MY responsibility completely.  The Apostle Paul tells us to avoid anything that would tangle us up and cause us to “lose the race”, that’s not always “sin”, it could be anything that slows us down from our primary objective.  When possible, avoid using the roads with potholes…WHEN YOU KNOW ABOUT THEM.

• Potholes are easier to see in the daylight. But some folks just don’t understand what the concept. Jesus and the teaching in the letters of Paul, John, and Peter remind us to “walk in the light”, so that we don’t stumble.  It seems obvious, but some of us tend to like the danger of living on the edge, pushing the boundaries and find ourselves walking (driving) in the dark…unable to see the approaching danger.  Stay in the light.

• Don’t travel too fast. There is a fine line between confidence and recklessness.  By not recognizing, ignoring, or not caring about the danger of obstacles/potholes I get complacent and start driving too fast.  Although I am personally guilty of driving my body and my life at reckless speeds sometimes, I preach (to myself and others) that to not be “in the moment” is to miss out on “God moments”.  I have a “mantra” I try to live up to, and one I preach/teach:

“Every moment has its time.
Every person has their place.
Do not brush away either.
In doing so, you may brush away God’s wish
For you to either ENJOY or BE a miracle.”

I will keep my eye on the ultimate goal, but I also need to consistently be aware of my current surroundings, not just because I’ll miss out on something good, but also so I can recognize obstacles as they approach and see them for what they are.

• Sometimes you’re the follower. Sometimes you’re the leader.  This year I found myself suddenly on a busy Indianapolis road that was pockmarked with deep potholes.  Having not driven on the road since Autumn I was unaware of the dangers and immediately got behind someone else who seemed to know the way better than I did.  I slowed when they slowed, I dodged when they dodged…it helped to have someone in the lead.  Later in the week I was driving to a notorious minor stretch of road with at least a dozen holes all together.  Behind me, and I mean RIGHT behind me, was a person not wanting to follow the speed limit (in Edgewood where the speed limit is the 11^thCommandment) and I came to the place, tapped my brakes and went into the left lane to avoid the dreaded war zone.  I looked in my back mirror and saw the car begin to take the opportunity to pass me on the right…they immediately hit the first hole and stopped (unhurt) and slowly followed me the rest of the way, a safer distance behind.  Sometimes you follow.  Sometimes you lead.

• It helps if you’ve traveled that road before. Through the obstacle courses that are “Pothole Season” in Indiana, there are a few places I have now come to know and can smoothly turn, swerve, and brake, like a strong slalom skier in the Winter Olympics. Because I must travel that road, and have been there before, I know where the pitfalls are…and I avoid them. I’ve heard so often, and sometimes say, “I wouldn’t wish what I went through on my worst enemy, but I wish everyone could be where I am now, on the other side.” Another reason to not brush off even the bad moments is that hitting a pot hole teaches us, strengthens us, not only for ourselves, but to be there for someone else who is traveling down the same road.
  

Pothole Season isn’t one of my favorite times of year in Indiana, but I CAN say that I’m stronger for it.   My prayer is that you avoid the damage done by unavoidable potholes in life, and that you may never be the cause of someone else’s obstacle in life.

Knowing that eventually the potholes will be patched, the roads will be smooth, and all will be well (if only for a short time, till the next winter) also helps me get through.  Another lesson of the season is our constant message and lesson:

“Everything will be OK in the end.  If it’s not OK, it’s not the end.”
FERNANDO SABINO

“Weeping may spend the night, but there is joy in the morning.”
PSALM 30:5b 

I can remember, in elementary school, seeing people on Ash Wednesday with ash on their foreheads and thinking (since it was generally just a few people) that they had bumped into something or accidentally gotten something wiped on them.  Some kids would be dismissed from lunch and come back (obviously from noon worship services) with ashes on their foreheads, embarrassed and a little reluctant to speak about what happened at noon.

When I moved to Seattle, as a college student, I remember being downtown on Ash Wednesday one year, and seeing a slick-looking businessman carrying his briefcase, off to a meeting somewhere…with a smear of an ashen cross on his forehead.  Somewhere behind him in a crowd was a young mother with two small children, each with an ashen cross.  There was an older Hispanic man and his wife, a Chinese woman, a young man of color working as a messenger on a bike, all with the ashen crosses that day.  And I saw, for the first time, the many faces of the children of God, all blessed with HIS cross on their foreheads.  People who didn’t know each other, and if they did, may not get along as we would hope but all of them under God’s care at that moment in time; the cross binding them together. We were all “singing the same song” in a variety of parts.  True BELIEVERS & FOLLOWERS sing together in harmony…not unison.  We may not see eye-to-eye…but we will be face-to-face with the one who created us all…from dust, covered by the cross that signifies the price paid for our admittance to the feast. 

At CENTRAL, we observe LENT (and ASH WEDNESDAY) in a big way. Where do the ashes we use at Central come from? The ashes we use are the ashes of the palms used the prior Palm Sunday; mixed with olive oil which is infused with frankincense and myrrh. Once the palms are burned, ground down and mixed, they are preserved. In fact, at Central, the ashes I’ve used for eighteen years (my Anniversary with Central Christian Church was this February 18^th), predate me by two to three ministers at least. I have only added some ashes, but they are combined with ashes from Palm Sundays past. The alabaster jar that holds Central’s ashes also holds the representation of at least three generations of parishioners, pastors, elders, deacons, and stories here in the heart of the heartland…and now, it’s all ash.

The palms that symbolize the crowds in Jerusalem wishing for and welcoming what they imagined was an “earthly” kingdom, are now dust – reminding us that the “earthly” kingdom is not what our King came to inaugurate – HIS Kingdom is “not FROM, or OF, this world”. HIS Kingdom doesn’t turn to ash. But our kingdoms, our countries, our homes, and our bodies…do. And WE are individually headed in that same direction. No matter what our diversity, no matter our likeness, we all travel to that location…dust. That knowledge alone should cause us to treat others with kindness, love, patience, and help. The knowledge of the shared destination of all our lives should cause us to live every moment on this earth, in this body, with intention. But does it?

This isn’t really bad news; it’s the way of physical life. But “Life” (with a capital “L”) isn’t defined by things that turn to ash. “Life”, according to what I believe and teach, transcends nations, communities, and human bodies. I believe our souls will land in new bodies that don’t turn to ash, in a land that always remains green, lush, diverse, and colorful – like the immortal life that will inhabit it with our King, Jesus.

My time at Central, in Anderson, and on this earth will one day be represented in the palm fronds I have burned and mixed with ashes from times before, and pastors who have served and moved on, along with their parishioners.  My soul has already started packing for another trip. The Kingdom of MY King has already been created.

So take the ashes and remember: we are all on the same physical journey, and on the way, offer your hand, your smile, and your love, because Jesus asks you to. Also, as different as we all may be, and no matter where we started – we may not all be “in the same boat”, but we are quite possibly all “in the same storm.”

Every moment has its time.
Every person has their place.
Don’t rush past either,
Or you may also brush aside
God’s desire for you to either
ENJOY or BE the miracle. 

If we do nothing else this Lenten Season…that would be enough, and it might change the world.