I am, as I do every Christmas season, reading my favorite Christmas book, Charles Dickens’ “A CHRISTMAS CAROL”.  Through the years I’ve had several copies of this story, one is in a collection of Dickens’ classics, one is in a collection of other Christmas stories, one is on my IPad (backlit with big letters…yeah!), and one (the one I’m reading THIS year) is a beautiful limited-edition leatherbound volume with the 1915 illustrations from English illustrator Arthur Rackham.

No matter what the setting or context, this story continues to amaze and inspire me.  Our own ALLEY THEATRE is currently in rehearsals to  present the production of my script and music once more this season…please make it if you can.

Now, unfortunately, I feel a bit more like “Scrooge” than I do “Cratchit”.  The grinding busy-ness of the season, being kind in the face of a few downright mean, or foolish, people, the aging of my body (which does NOT enjoy the cold), and who knows what kind of weather will be threatening our beautiful week of CHRISTMAS EVE and CHRISTMAS DAY at Central…bah! Humbug! And yet, no matter what kind of season I’m having, Dickens uses his words to reach into my heart and soul to communicate the best of all messages to the “child still hiding inside” this old shell of mine.

The great question of the story for me is how can Scrooge, with all the resources his world can offer, completely miss the SPIRIT of Christmas (while literally being surrounded by “the Spirits” of Christmas – while Tim Cratchit, sick, poor and facing a certain and early death, seems to not only understand, but “embodies” the “Spirit” – the “JOY”?   

And what is that “JOY of Christmas”?

In the story, maybe it’s easier to see what the “JOY of Christmas” is NOT.  When watching Scrooge, one realizes JOY does not come from wealth, or power.  Scrooge has an abundance of both and neither has given him JOY.  You can also see that “memories of Christmas”, though fond and perhaps filled with warmth, love and kindness, are more often a reminder that Christmastime now does not fulfill the memories of what it used to be.  For Scrooge, his past memories of Christmas only filled him with despair at all he had lost or cast aside.

So, what is “The JOY of Christmas”?  At its core, it is the knowledge that our Great God cared enough to love us, and connect to us, through such elaborate and sacrificial means as placing His own Son in this “God-forsaken” world. His Son then “put on our skin”, felt our pain, walked our path – so that we would see God for who He truly is, and trust Him, and follow Him.  We no longer need to fear the grave, we no longer are victims of our circumstance, we are no longer prisoners of our past, our present, or our future.

Tim Cratchit “embodies” that idea: Despite our circumstances, Christmas and its JOY transcend everything.  “Life” is not totally defined by this time and place, but lives beyond this time and place. “Life” is not defined solely by heartbeat and breath.  And JOY is greater than the sum of our surroundings, our memories, and our hopes.  

What finally makes Scrooge happy, what fills him with a JOY that sets him dancing?  GIVING, not just his money, but his time, his presence, his heart.  Because Christmas JOY is “outside” of ourselves, we find the physical manifestation of that JOY is also outside of ourselves.

Isn’t that just like God?  We must GIVE to GAIN.  The percentages will always remain the same, in the Kingdom of God; the more JOY you give, the more JOY you receive, whether it’s smiles, time, talent, cash or love.

“I have come that you might have life…and have it more abundantly”! JOHN 10:10 

“God bless us, every one.” TINY TIM

ADVENT! What a glorious time of the year! But Advent must “get off” on the right foot or the season can become less fulfilling. Let me suggest a beginning point.  

All of us are skeptics. On occasion our skepticism prevents us from getting caught up in fraudulent scams, shady deals, bad investments, and keeps us from becoming gullible to every tale and whim.

But there is a pervasive skepticism that affects everyday life. All we have to do is to listen to one another. Each time we say, “I hope the Colts win” …we are voicing skepticism that it will happen. When we say, “I hope we get a good, much needed rain” …we are voicing a skepticism that it will soon rain. Even when we say, “I hope I get ______ for Christmas”, there is this skepticism that a neatly wrapped gift will contain the desired item. Run that thinking out. Each time we hope for a promotion at work, or a scholarship for college, or finding an affordable house, etc. then we are voicing wishes that may or may not come to fruition. When we think about the future of the Church (all Denominations), we are skeptical that we would be comfortable in a Church a hundred years from now.

To get Advent “off on the right foot” means re-discovering HOPE, which is the theme of the first Sunday in Advent. The Greek word for hope, elpis, in the New Testament does not have any hint of any skepticism, it will come to pass. No wishful thinking allowed! Elpis, hope is rooted in God…The Everlasting, The Unchangeable, The Righteous One…Who chose to be The Loving and Redemptive One by sending His Son, The One Truly Worthy of our Praise and Worship.

Greek mythology tells the story of Pandora’s Box; a jar filled with all the evils possible in this world. The gods entrusted Pandora, their princess, to safeguard this container. Poor Pandora! She had no idea what a little white lie was, let alone the atrocities of war and inhumane treatment of one another. Curious, she lifted the lid. Evils of all sorts infected the world HORRORS! Not a single evil, great or small, could be recaptured and put back in the box.

BUT remaining in the box was ELPIS (Hope). Elpis did not command all evils to return to the box. NO! Rather, Elpis represented the confidence that the gods would somehow overcome the evils….

…so, the Scriptures teach that God overcomes the evils of the world for those who recognize Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior, Apart from Christ one is “without hope (elpis), but in Christ one possesses an ‘imperishable inheritance”, and we LIVE (rest, dwell) our elpis (hope) upon the Grace brought to us by the coming (advent) of Jesus Christ.

Elpis (Hope) is a sure confidence that God is who God says He is, and no suffering through the evils of this world can diminish the confidence that God is victorious over all evils AND the grave!

In Advent, let go of skepticism. What God has promised will happen. No “ifs, ands, or buts!”

Unless we grasp elpis, hope, the rest of Advent can become mere routine with decorations, shopping, and family traditions. Don’t misunderstand. Even as a minister, I, like anyone else, needed a fresh elpis (Hope). That comes on the First Sunday of Advent. After all, Advent is observed annually for that reason!

Next Sunday is PEACE Sunday. And we read, “may the God of Hope fill you with peace”

Then comes a Sunday of JOY! The Apostle Paul (Romans 15:13) declares “May the God of Hope fill you with joy”.

A Sunday of LOVE, and the Apostle Paul (I Cor 13:13) pointedly says, “Now these three remain, faith, hope and love, and the greatest of these is love.”

Did you get “off on the right foot” this Advent? I hope so.

No matter how THANKSGIVING DAY is celebrated at my home (away, home, crowded, or quiet) I really love it.  As was proved THIS year, it doesn’t matter if there are twenty people or two, I will always eat too much.

THANKSGIVING DAY, because of what it is, because it’s a time when I saw my extended family and grandparents (who didn’t live in town), and because it ushers in ADVENT, THANKSGIVING has always been a favorite holiday…since I was a small boy.  Part of that was also because Mom was a really good cook.

There are many memories of Thanksgiving Days past that move to the front of my mind each year about this time…but one of the earliest, and funniest is this:

I was probably about five-years-old when, on Thanksgiving Day, I was walking down the street as we were taking care of some last-minute shopping for the meal (probably).  Coming right at us were two women, dressed in long black dresses and wearing white and black caps.  I couldn’t contain my excitement at seeing, in the flesh, these two figures approach and so I jumped up and down, pointed and yelled at the top of my lungs,

“Look!  Pilgrims!”

They were, of course…nuns.

In my defense:
1. I had never SEEN a nun,
2. I was five-years-old,
3. it was THANKSGIVING…it seemed obvious to me that they were pilgrims.

My Mom said that the good-humored sisters laughed, came to me, stooped down, and chatted.  I was awestruck, and still thought they were Pilgrims. They wished us all a happy THANKSGIVING and went on their way…as my parents attempted to explain to me who they were, and why they weren’t pilgrims…I didn’t get it.

 Now, of course, I understand who they were and what happened…but as a child I only understood what I saw and experienced according to my limited knowledge, wisdom and experience.  Was my conclusion the “truth”?  Well, it wasn’t like I was deceived, all that I saw TOLD me that they were pilgrims. It was only through a little more teaching, and a few more years (which broadened my experience and gave me a bit more wisdom) that I understood TRULY what that experience was…and who those two kind women TRULY represented.

God probably smiles when we come to conclusions about who He is…according to our limited knowledge, wisdom, and experience.  There are, more-than-likely, also times when He doesn’t smile; times when He sees His children declare that, despite their limited knowledge, wisdom & experience, they have concluded once-and-for-all who HE is.

I for one am thankful, this THANKSGIVING/ADVENT, for a church that doesn’t claim to OWN God, but does claim to BELIEVE & FOLLOW Him.  As we all walk together behind our Shepherd, our King, our Jesus, we continue to have our eyes opened, our mind expanded, our faith strengthened by the continuing knowledge, wisdom and experience that He alone can give.  It is a lifetime learning experience that will continue into the next age. Although we should all share with one another the “angles” from which WE have each experienced our great Father, we should never assume that someone else’s different “angle” is WRONG.

We all “see through a glass darkly” (as Paul the Apostle reminds us)…so keep walking, keep learning, keep growing.  Let’s move into the ADVENT SEASON with a continued life of gratitude: thankful for the God of the “indescribable gift” who unfolds knowledge and wisdom to us all, in His time…not ours.

It was a THANKGSIVING MEAL that I first remember my mother saying the words, “You need to try a little of everything that I put on your plate.” Those words were translated by me into, “There is going to be some weird food today, much of which you won’t want to eat.”

Let me set this up. Usually, we had a THANKGSGIVING meal in our home, my earliest memories are of our “A” House (government alphabet homes in a government-built town) where grandpa would travel in from the neighboring town he lived in just a couple of hours away, and my “grandma & grandpa” (really my grandmother’s sister and husband) who lived in town and were ancient, living in a smaller house in the next town, and sometimes people from church (usually also ancient, in my eyes) who had no family in town.  Mom cooked for days, turning into a demonic version of Martha Stewart.

I was familiar with everything on the table, usually: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, some sweet potatoes, homemade rolls, greenbean casserole, a cranberry dish of some sort (either gelled or in a salad) peas and pearl onions, cornbread, lettuce salad, and a variety of pies – all homemade.  Me, and my stomach, were not only familiar with, but looked forward to, this feast every year…and the leftovers that we fed on for days afterward.

The year I’m speaking of, however, was different.  THIS year it was different, however.  There was a new family at church, the dad was a new scientist working where mom worked, and their family was from the south. My mom, who was from the south as well, was looking forward to having a THANKSGIVING she didn’t have to cook for, AND looking forward to some dishes she hadn’t had for a while.

Then, on THANSGIVING DAY, my mother spoke those words to me and I was filled with dread in anticipation of the horrors that awaited: strange vegetables, probably not turkey but some odd southern animal, like possum – dishes that were unidentifiable, etc.

We arrived in time to see the turkey (thank heaven!) being carved. There was another family I knew there, and another one I didn’t know so well (strangers…ugh!).  We sat down at the table after standing around the table to pray. (At home we ALWAYS prayed right after sitting down, what kind of pagan ritual was this…STANDING!?…oh no, the terror was beginning).

Mom sat to my left and therefore received the food before me – which gave her the “power” to place food on MY plate before I had a chance to simply pass over things.

Turkey, stuffing, and potatoes.  Although the dressing had something in it (chestnuts, I discovered later) I had never seen before…all was well…so far.  Then came another dressing made from a base ingredient called “grits”, then what looked like little Barbie doll-sized cabbages. There were beans (Beans…!?) that were called, “black-eyed”…and tasted like they had, indeed, been beaten up.  There was cornbread (I can deal with that).  There was a weird Jello they called “aspic” – it had VEGETABLES in it…VEGETABLES! Egad!

When the “bowls of horror” had ceased going ‘round, mom leaned over to me again and said, “Take a bite of EVERYTHING on your plate or you’ll hear from me when we get home.”  To which I replied, “Why do I have to eat stuff I don’t like?” To which she replied,

“Because we are here at the invitation of the host who made something for everyone. You don’t know whether you’ll like it or not till you’ve tried it, and even if you don’t like it…you’re not the only one at the table.” 

I’ve always said, “Everything I know about worship and church, I learned from my mom.”

Here we are, in a day and age where “personal service” and “customized service” are the bywords of commerce.  Say something out loud in the privacy of your home, regarding something you’re possibly interested in purchasing, and it will immediately pop up every time you turn on your phone, pad, or laptop…seducing you to purchase.

And somehow, that attitude has entered the Church. Many are under the false notion that “worship service” is the same as “personal service” as if the word “service”, whenever related to spiritual matters, refers to us and not God…how WE are served. It’s reflected in our conversation and comments about worship and church: “I’m looking for a church that serves me.” “I’m looking for a church…where I can be fed.”  “I left because it didn’t meet my needs”…and so on.

These all may be legitimate excuses and comments; however, I think it’s always good to be reminded about our priorities. Even when things are going well, when people DO have their priorities in line (as it seems in our own congregation at Central), even when things are done the correct way…we remind ourselves about the priorities, so we stay on the right path, which we are currently on.

Some things my mother reminds us, when it comes to the work of the church, and worship specifically are:

FIRST: JESUS is the host, not us. We are the guests.

SECOND: At the event will be familiar and non-familiar faces. The guests there all have their own stories, come from different places, with different packs to carry, with different journeys to travel, with different preferences – but we are connected by the same thing: THE HOST. JESUS has invited us. JESUS has prepared the event. JESUS presents what HE believes is best for all. (codicil: if every leader involved is doing what THEY are supposed to be doing as well)

And sometimes, even in a heavenly place like Central, we will share together in an experience that is not necessarily customized for us, personally, for an important reason: Christianity is not a “solo event” it is a “community event”.  Christianity is not academic, it is action, it is shared and practiced on those around us….and…to quote Marge Vale (still the greatest theologian I’ve ever met): 

“You try everything and share everything…because we are here at the invitation of the HOST who made something for everyone. You don’t know whether you’ll like it or not till you’ve tried it, and even if you don’t like it…you’re not the only one at the table.”

Give thanks for THE TABLE, provided by THE HOST…for ALL OF US.

I have tried, this November, to intentionally state one person, thing or concept I am thankful for…every day.  I have to say, when I first decided to do it I wondered if I could keep it going through the entire month…I mean, could I find something to be thankful for each day without repeating myself.

Now we are almost to the end of the month, and I am astounded at what this “practice” has done to me.

I use the word “practice” because I’m an actor and a musician, for me that word has a significant meaning.  Practice, like exercise, strengthens certain parts of body, plants (through repetition) a habit that becomes natural…and changes who you are.  That’s what GRATITUDE does.

When analyzing exactly what GRATITUDE and saying “thank you” is, I find that it isn’t a weakness…it’s a strength.  It is power.  Being thankful:

1) releases us from the false need of
having to take care of everything ourselves

2) it acknowledges our ignorance of what will happen next

3) it acknowledges the fact
that every moment is an undeserved gift

4) it connects us to each other
(as we are dependent on each other)

Sometimes, to define or teach a concept, I need to find the opposite concept and define it…and so, believing that the opposite of GRATITUDE is INGRATITUDE I suddenly realized that isn’t true.  If GRATITUDE acknowledges our dependence on God and others for everything in our lives, then the opposite isn’t INGRATITUDE, it’s ENTITLEMENT.

Where GRATITUDE releases us from the false need of having to take care of everything ourselves, ENTITLEMENT creates the illusion that we are responsible for everything.  Where GRATITUDE acknowledges our ignorance of future events, ENTITLEMENT tells us that we are in control, or should be.  If GRATITUDE tells us each moment is a gift, undeserved, then ENTITLEMENT tells us that the world and God owe us.  Where GRATITUDE connects us to each other, by showing our need to give and receive…ENTITLEMENT separates us from each other.

I’ve found that for myself, and what I observe in others: people who “practice” GRATITUDE are generally happy, satisfied, content and joyful.  Whereas, when one sees unhappy, dissatisfied, discontent and angry people (or when we see those qualities in ourselves) it isn’t surprising to find they (or we) are practicing ENTITLEMENT.

The older I get, the more I realize I can only control so much.  The more years I live, the more I realize that I am only as strong as those around me…I owe a debt to those people, and my God, who have given me so much.

Today I am thankful.  And I leave you with my own creed…one that I believe Jesus sings to me each day:

Every moment has its time.

Every person has their place.

Don’t brush aside either,

Or you may also brush aside

God’s wish for you to either ENJOY or BE a miracle.

As I am continually “feeling” my age I am actually filled with…gratitude.

I am happy to know that I am reaching the point where I have lived longer than I will live in the future years (unless I live to be 134 years old).  Having never been fearful of death, I don’t, at this point, have any desire to live longer than I should…and in fact, am happier to be the age I am than at any other time in my life.

God HAS been, IS now, and WILL be a friend to me, He has gone the “extra mile” for me and continues to shock me with His graciousness …as little as I have done for Him in return. To be a BELIEVER & FOLLOWER on the “other-side-of-the-hill” means, at times, to look back, to observe God and oneself from a distance, and continue to learn.

I climbed up the hill, aiming to reach the summit quickly…by travelling straight for it. In my rush to reach the pinnacle (to “grow up”) I missed some beautiful sights.  Sure, I had the strength then to grab an outcropping of rock when I needed to and pull myself up.  Yes, I could look back at the sunset of each day and see what I had accomplished.  Of course, it’s good to have goals, make a plan, and work the plan, but along the way I MAY have passed up times I didn’t need to move so quickly.  In my effort to go, go, go…I might have missed the goal completely sometimes.  God’s request that I love Him is played out by loving those He has placed in my path – and, unfortunately, sometimes the path was more important than those who took up space on the path.

I find, now that I’m on the other side going down instead of up, I “zigzag” (partially to keep from falling!)  Now the path is just as steep, but I am going down, not up.  I’ve learned, there is more to be seen and experienced by not racing down the hill.  And the truth is, I’ll reach the bottom when the time is right. Till then, I should enjoy the path and the people on it – not going straight down but covering the entire width of the hill and all it has to offer.

When I climbed UP, my goal was the summit. Searching for a “mountain-top” experience was often the goal of my younger self.  Now I realize that those experiences happen, are serendipitous and not always a result of planning. I’ve learned to accept them and enjoy them when they come.  Now I see the valley below and realize that every part of THE HILL has something to offer.  The path is God’s creation, He has gone ahead of me, and it is cleared and made especially for me. Who am I to deviate from His map?  Getting PAST the summit is the actual goal…partially because the air is so thin at the top, no one could stay there for long.

As my younger self ascended the hill, I had no choice but to empty my pack of things that were too heavy. Now that I am over the summit, I’m finding I do not even miss the things I threw out of my pack – and so, I only hold on to the things that might be helpful to someone else along the way.  I tend to be a hoarder, in part because the things I collect around me have meaning and are memory-holders.  But, in truth, my age has brought me to the stage telling me how little I need.  Also my joy, my life, my journey, is more fulfilling (once again) when I pay attention to the people and places on the path –  it’s good to have things with you that connect you with those people and places.  Connection with others is the important thing.

Now that I am closer to valley, I can see “a gate” at the bottom of the hill. I’ve always known “the gate” was there, but now (like everyone on this journey of life) I SEE it more clearly. Truthfully, I can see that the path contains a series of hills, of summits and valleys, but I didn’t enjoy the wisdom of that until I got “over-the-hill”.  And as I had been climbing up, my thought was that my life would end once I got TO the summit…but now that I am OVER the summit, I’m glad to see that there is still more, and there will be more, forever more (“The road goes ever on…” J.R.R. Tolkien) – especially once I walk THROUGH “the gate” to the garden…in the valley.

I am thankful to everyone whose paths have crossed mine, who are walking the path with me, who sometimes carry my pack for me, who guard me when I sleep, and mend me when I fall.  To the ones who travel with me, by blood or by choice, I am who I am because of you and your love.  And to The Great Shepherd who leads and asks me to follow: I am just beginning to make out the melody You’ve been singing and look forward to a continuing journey filled with many more years on this path, and unfathomable moments beyond the gate.

I began playing the piano regularly, around 64 years ago this year. Not only is that number astounding to me, as is looking in the mirror these days, but I’m thinking about how the piano (and music in general) became such a natural part of my personality – and how that all began. I’m starting to take some memories from the back of the “filing cabinet” of my mind…and I thought today about my first “RECITAL”.

Probably one of the most colorful figures to enter my world (and this is saying a lot) was my first piano teacher. She was larger than life, a chronic smoker with the voice and cough to prove it, fingers crippled with arthritis (though she could still play amazingly well) and everything in her house was pink. At Christmas she had an aluminum tree with pink ornaments, and a rotating color wheel on the floor…going to my piano lessons during Christmas was like a trip to Vegas.

After about a year of lessons, or a little less, she introduced me to a new word, “recital”. She explained what it was and chose a piece for me to play. I still have the sheet music. It is framed and sitting beside my piano, to this day. The piece was prophetically titled, “IN CHURCH” (by June Weybright), and it was published the year I was born.

We worked hard on it, she coached me on every “nuance” and reminded me that simply playing every note correctly was not enough – I needed to convey feeling and emotion that my little brain had yet to experience.

Then one day, knowing this was my first recital (and I was undoubtedly her favorite student), she packed me in her Eisenhower-era car and took me to the venue where the recital would take place; appropriately, a church.

It didn’t look like the church I went to, it was a bit fancier, as I remember, and larger. Maybe a little intimidating. There were dark open beams in the ceiling, there where stained-glass windows with pictures of Bible stories. There was brass and there were candles everywhere…I had never actually been in a place like it before. She showed me where I would sit, prior to playing. She led me along the path to the piano and told me to take my time getting comfortable on the bench, then take a deep, slow, breath, and place my fingers to begin. She taught me how to bow, one hand on the piano, facing the audience. Then she stood there and asked me to play the piece. I did.

Then she said, “I’m going to ask you to play it again. But this time I’m going to the back of the room to make sure I can hear you.”

She moved to the back of the sanctuary and asked me to play it again. She clapped when I was finished and reminded me to stand and bow.

Then she asked me to play it again. This time, she warned, she was going to try to distract me, but no matter what she did, or what sounds I heard, I was to continue to play – “Imagine it’s just you and the piano alone in the church”, she said. I sat down, took my deep breath, placed my fingers on the keys, and started playing.

Suddenly, a cacophony of hideous sounds came out of her mouth. Having a smoker’s voice, and a loud one, the sounds were almost inhuman. Had the movie been made at that point (and had I been allowed to see it) I would’ve compared the sounds to the voice of the demon in little Regan’s body – in the film “THE EXORIST”. I concentrated as she screamed, I closed my eyes and played as she pounded on the back of the pews in back and stomped her feet. I endured, shutting it all out. And in the end, she applauded (and whistled) and I bowed…and then we both burst out laughing.

I had never seen an adult of her variety behave like that, in all my short years of life to that point. It was incredible. But she reiterated, “There will be many people here. Some will be here to hear you specifically; some won’t want to be here. Some people may be here for THEIR first recital. You will hear all sorts of sounds: people coughing, shuffling, children, babies crying, people whispering…you just listen for the music and play like you’re the only one in the room.”

It’s a lesson I’ve held on to through a lifetime of recitals, concerts, performances, and public speaking events. And it is a lesson I’ve applied to life.

Some people will always be present to cheer you on.
Some will be there to hope you fail.
Some don’t want to be there.
Some have no idea where they are.
But you: set your course. Look to the goal.
Take it all in, but don’t let it distract you from your purpose.

The Bible says it this way: “Therefore, since we also have such a large cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily ensnares us. Let us run with endurance the race that lies before us, keeping our eyes on Jesus, the source and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that lay before Him endured a cross and despised the shame and has sat down at the right hand of God’s throne. HEBREWS 12:1-2

What is “your recital” piece? What is your purpose and goal? This is the perfect time of year to figure out who you are and why. Once you do, once you know who you are and what your purpose is in this time and place. And once God puts His hand on your shoulder, smiles, and “leads you to the piano”, get comfortable, take a deep breath, put your fingers on the keys…

…and play your song.

Detectives and investigators “dig deep” in search for factual information. Medical laboratory scientists “dig deep” in search for causes of diseases AND for medications that may manage, if not eliminate, any illness or its symptoms. Inventors “dig deep” in their efforts to bring into reality their imaginative ideas, but unfortunately, some ideas lead to destructive weaponry as well as beneficial creations that may better the life of us all. Ministers “dig deep” in search for insightful, educational, and redemptive sermons. Farmers “dig deep” in an effort to obtain excellent yields in crops and livestock; over the long years farming methods have changed dramatically.

In my own lifetime, companies improve their product, and the telephone is an excellent example as I recall the old four party crank phones at my grandparents’ home which stand in stark contrast to the wonders of today’s smartphone.

When I was preaching from the pulpit every Sunday during my career as a congregational pastor, the biggest compliment that anyone could say to me as they left the service was “I have never heard it that way before!” In college I earned a teacher’s certificate in history for secondary schools, and my love for teaching shaped every sermon over forty years! Thus, “digging deep” was an apt description of sermon preparation…a trait I appreciate in Pastor Rick.

As citizens of a nation in which our freedoms rest in the hands of the judiciary branch, the question arises, “what is justice?” Obviously, justice rests upon rightly interpreting laws under which we all live and work. It is important to remember that laws not only define what is criminal, but it also defines the process by which guilt or innocence may be imputed, that is, a process of justification beyond reasonable doubt. The judicial process is one of “digging deep”.

Justice, then, is basically defined as fairly determining guilt or innocence and administering appropriate consequences when fault is found. Not everyone agrees, of course, but justice is bound by law.

But, biblically speaking, justice is NOT defined by law but by grace. God declares the faithful sinner “justified”…WHEW! Now we all have to “dig deep” to grasp justice as grace. By grace through faith in Jesus Christ, Son of God, we are justified, that is, declared as “without sin.” Here’s the problem: We who live in Christ…still sin.

So, let’s “dig deep.” When God declared the believer to be justified, it means that God has removed the penalty of spiritual death, and by grace, God grants us eternal life (zoe) which God only can grant through the “shed blood” of Christ. We cannot declare ourselves as “just” nor can the Church declare us to be “just.” Only God. Even though the faithful still sin, and God does NOT excuse or ignore our sin, in Christ the sinner is restored to God’s favor. Freely given favor!

That’s not all. ‘Gotta keep “digging deep!” The faithful are justified by Christ’s “shed blood” (Rom. 3:21-26) Here is what we often fail to understand: The Apostle Paul declared, “it is not I who lives, but Christ within me!” Christ’s shed blood covers us all, and therefore, we take on ourselves the life of Christ. This is the meaning of resurrection” From the familiar Easter Hymn, “He Lives! He Lives! How do I know He Lives? He lives within my heart!’

That’s not the whole story. Now, in Christ, we are commissioned to bring justice into the world. If a person is hungry, we feed him/her. If anyone is naked, we clothe them. If anyone is oppressed (treated unfairly), we free them. We forgive others as well as ourselves. We are not only “saved by grace through faith in Jesus, but we also live by grace! In Christ justice is not about demanding the consequences of law, rather, it is about covering with OUR BLOOD (time, income, resources, etc.) the deepest human need. Now, that’s digging deep!

Whew! You would think that, at my age (mid 70s), I could put my shovel in the shed and quit digging! Far from it! I feel as if I have just begun the journey of faith. 

Please! Keep bringing me a glass of cold water while I keep digging!

My favorite Broadway musical of all time is “THE MUSIC MAN”.  There is something about the combination of the setting: America at the turn of the century, the story-unique boy-meets-girl, the music-ballads, dances, barbershop quartets, bands.  But I also know that I’ve been influenced by both the movie AND the fact that it was the first musical I ever performed in, as a sophomore in High School.

Robert Preston, as Professor Harold Hill (even though Jack Warner asked both Frank Sinatra and Cary Grant to do the role before it was given to Preston) is definitive as the con man who changes his life through the love of a good woman.  In the story, however, he must “sell” the Iowa town folk on the idea of a Boys Band (not the Backstreet Boys, something completely different).  He isn’t a musician, can’t read a note, but he sells them instruments and uniforms and “cons” them into believing.

The technique he uses?  He reveals a serious “issue” in the town that they’re not even aware they have, and who can save them from this seed of degradation that has infiltrated their little prairie town? Prof. Harold Hill, of course!  And so we have the song, TROUBLE; “O, ya got trouble…right here in River City, with a capital-T, that rhymes with P and that stands for POOL”  – not a swimming pool, mind you, but a pool table.

Here Professor Hill has actually CREATED trouble, this pool table could’ve gone unnoticed except for the Professor’s sermon. He needed to CREATE trouble so that he could be the “hero”, and make out, literally, “like a bandit”!

It’s an old, old technique, a technique that Advertising Gurus have been using for years: to create a situation that can only be solved through their product.  Who has heard of “ring around the collar”, or “cellulite”?  Before advertising, these things were just called “dirt” and “fat”!

TROUBLE comes in all forms, and TROUBLE comes to all people.  Churches experience all kinds of trouble: economic trouble, growth trouble, a leaking roof here, not enough teachers there, sickness in the winter, simple-minded preachers, etc.  The Church doesn’t NEED any help, when it comes to trouble, in other words, the Church doesn’t need any Harold Hills; someone to CREATE a problem so that they can solve it.  The Church doesn’t need a hero to save them from trouble, the Church needs a pilot to steer them through trouble.

Being a Believer & Follower of Jesus has its own advantages and disadvantages. Let’s be honest, in some ways, being a disciple is not an easy choice OR an easy thing to do. There are troubles from within and without, many of which cannot be avoided.

But what every Believer & Follower has, and what the Church has, is not a “Harold Hill”, but a “Captain Von Trapp”!  A Captain/Pilot who can lead us through the dangers, who knows where the rocks are, who knows when the wind will be foul, who knows the currents and tides like the back of his hand, who knows what we will face and promises to guide us through it (“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me…”).  We have someone with us always, who has been there before.

As I’m writing, I can’t help but hear the voices of my home congregation sing one of my father’s favorite hymns:

Jesus, Savior, pilot me
Over life’s tempestuous sea
Unknown waves before me roll
Hiding rock and treacherous shoal
Chart and compass come from Thee
Jesus, Savior, pilot me 

When the darkling heavens frown
And the wrathful winds come down
And the fierce waves, tossed on high
Lash themselves against the sky
Jesus, Savior, pilot me
Over life’s tempestuous sea
(words by Edward Hopper) 

No one needs “Christians” to create trouble so that others will believe they are being “persecuted”.

We don’t need anyone to create trouble so that their own egos are inflated by making others look bad.

And we certainly don’t need anyone to create trouble so they can appear to be our “hero”…

…we HAVE a Hero. 

He doesn’t take away the trouble, He goes AHEAD of it.
He stands with us in the MIDDLE of it.
He marches with us THROUGH it… 

…and He covers the scars left by it.

After my recent trip to the old homestead – I am still missing Marge and Tom. The grieving doesn’t lessen, it just changes. Marge and Tom are known to me as mom and dad…and I think of them every day.  There is always some event, or something I’ve read or seen, that prompts me to get my phone and call…only remembering, a little after my automatic response, that they are not there.

When I used to visit with mom and dad, in Washington State, I ate well, enjoyed midnight conversations…and we picked up where we left off at the last visit. And Washington…ah, Washington.  When people think of Washington State, (especially those NOT from Washington, like the Hoosiers I live with now) more than likely the iconic image of tall evergreen trees, mountains, the Puget Sound and the bustle of Seattle are the first things that come to mind.

However, I grew up on the other side of the state, the east side, east of the cascade mountain range that traps clouds and separates the lush green coastal forest from the fertile high plateau that covers the rest of the state. The town where I was raised is dry, filled with sage brush and low-lying, wind-blown bluffs (or what Hoosiers call, “mountains”). So, you see, to define Washington as Seattle is silly, and inaccurate. Seattle is a small part of a state that is twice the size of Indiana.

Since I didn’t get to see Mom & Dad too often, it always took a little time to adjust to the inevitable fact that we all had aged. One time I arrived at the small airport, my dad was standing at the gate as I walked right up to him, he didn’t recognize me until I spoke. As for them, I had (and have) a certain picture in my mind as to who my parents are and what they look like.  It hasn’t changed. So, there was a period of adjustment for me, at each visit, to realize that they were the same people…and yet, more. To have only known them in their 40’s or 50’s would be somewhat the same as meeting them in their 80’s; they were more than they were in middle-age, and (as they would admit) a little less.  In the same way, even though I am their son, I didn’t really know them wholly, as I found out at their individual memorial services. I didn’t know them like their congregation knew them, or their friends, or the young couple of neighbors who came over every-once-in-a-while to fix, visit, and keep in touch.

States and people are SIMPLE concepts, compared to God.  States are finite entities compared to the infinite; they are “local” compared to “omnipresent”. So why do any of us arrogantly claim to have EXCLUSIVE knowledge of Him? 

Is the majestic Mt. Rainier the definition of Washington State, or the life of a retired mail man the definition of Tom Vale? Of course not, but those definitions are sometimes the limit of a person’s perception and knowledge. You may see the Space Needle as Washington and I see the Columbia River. We are BOTH wrong if we think those things totally define the great state. You may know my mother as a good cook, and I know her as my mom. We are BOTH right, yet neither of those things really and truly define her.

God is beyond description, and to complicate matters even more, He deals with each of us individually, specifically, and without prejudice. To the blind who came to Jesus, He is the Healer, although He healed one through touch alone and another by spitting in the dirt and putting mud in his eye. They both saw a different part of Jesus, but to divide the believers by claiming that Jesus ONLY heals through mud or ONLY heals through touch is to make God smaller than He is and to deny His greatness.

The Church is sometimes infamous for doing exactly THAT sort of discrimination: one congregation claiming that the God who does “this or that” is the only God, and any other definition, or “angle”, is heresy. If people and places are complex enough that one-hundred people might describe them one-hundred ways, then isn’t it just possible all of us only have a glimpse of what we try so desperately to define?  Sometimes we strive to “be right” about God, as opposed to our prime objective of KNOWING GOD…just so that we can rail against the “rights” of those who are not like us.  When we do that, as individuals, or congregations, we offend our Father, which is the ultimate definition of “sin”.

But the GOOD NEWS is this: When we open minds and hearts to the possibility that someone might have discovered a part of God that we have not seen, the hunger and thirst to know Him, and be known by Him, grows; we are satisfied and stretched at the same time. To narrow the personality of God is to narrow life to only the possible. To judge another according to their perception of how God works is to dismember the ONE Body of Christ.

There is one body and one Spirit – just as you were called to one hope when you were called – one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.  EPHESIANS 4:4-6