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?

Maybe it’s my age, maybe it’s something else, but lately I’ve been obsessively fantasizing, and even had dreams about, going back and starting over…beginning with my Freshman Year in High School.  Like I said, I’m not sure what prompted this thought process, but I’ve been imagining what it would be like to know everything I know now, including my life as it has played out, and return into my 14-year-old body with my 64-year-old mind AND know my future, as it played out once.Think of the confidence, wisdom, and knowledge that would come from the years of experience that wasn’t there when I actually ATTENDED High School.

I’ve imagined those differences, and how much better my life would’ve played out, because of my knowledge and experience now:

1. My friendship with God would be much improved, and my confidence in His love and sacrifice for ME would be stronger…which would affect everything, and every choice…and chisel my identity.
2. I would give my parents a break.  I wasn’t a bad kid, but I sure would appreciate them more.  I’d love my mom more, I’d build things with dad.  I’d “help”.
3. I’d love my friends more and adjust my life to make them happy.  Having no siblings (which I would NOT change) I counted on my friends too much, without allowing them the ability to count on me.  As I’ve aged, I have realized that “relationships are EVERYTHING”.
4. I would do less “church” stuff and more “school” stuff. I realize now that I allowed my home church to “sequester” me, when Jesus really would’ve had me BE the church myself: to my friends, “salt” and “light”, if you will…as opposed to using the church as a “club” of “haves” and viewing those outside of my church as the “have-nots”. I know, a weird thing for a Preacher to say, but I would’ve gone to church less, and gone to football games and dances more.  At the same time, I would cultivate my personal doctrine, practice my faith and recognize Jesus when I see Him, personally.
5. I would’ve found one adult, not one of my parents, to trust and to whom I could be open. I wanted to be honest about what I felt, and who I was, with someone who was old enough to listen and wise enough to know they didn’t need to fix it…just so that SOMEONE would know me and hear me talk it out.
6. I would start lifting weights at 14, and not stop…wow, I’d look good by this point! But I’d also not shy away from eating the great junk food that crowds into a teenager’s life.
7. I would learn more instruments and read more books.
8. I would buy the same first car.(1972 Plymouth Duster, Army Green…slant six, four-on-the-floor).
9. I would’ve used more hair product, grown it longer…and worn my puca shells in my Senior Picture, despite my mom’s warning that it “would make my Senior look too dated, years from then”
10. I would fall in love more and allow my heart to break more. I now know that love is everything and heartbreaks heal. (“It is better to have loved and lost….” and all that)

…and then I got to:

11. I would make different choices…

And that’s where the epiphany happened.

Different choices would mean different consequences,
which would lead to different paths,
which would lead to a different future and lead to a different “me”.

Of course.

All of those choices were things like:

I wouldn’t have jumped into that parking lot fight, to help a buddy, in college (where I walked away bloody and should’ve gone to the campus doctor, but was afraid to because the fight was about something less than legal and we would’ve ALL been suspended)…or…

…I shouldn’t have hooked up with my friend, Mitch, who led me and some others into a world where we were constantly dodging “the law”.  I wouldn’t have chosen the first college I attended, but rather spent all my years at the college I graduated from…

…I would’ve chosen to be honest about myself and lived my life for God alone to judge.

HOWEVER…It is precisely through (not BECAUSE) of those choices that I am where I am today…which is a GOOD place. 

It was THROUGH my choice of colleges that I not only gained much needed “transition-from-home-to-my-own-life” education, but where I discovered God in other denominations, other people, and other ways, and made lifetime friends.  It was precisely BECAUSE of my first school that I landed an acceptance into the Music Institute from which I graduated.

IN FACT, looking at my entire life, even my poor choices (ones that led me to disaster, failure, or at the least, bumpy roads) brought me… 

…here.

On the other side of the journey, there is knowledge to be gained, beauty to be appreciated and love to express.  The Spirit never abandoned me, always protected me, and always turned my “straw to gold”.  There are many, many parts of my life I would not wish on anyone, and decisions I would hope no one else would make…but the place I am NOW is a destination I would wish for everyone.   And the Spirit of God has used every person, every moment, and the consequence of every good and bad decision…to get me here and now.

And so, though there are things I wish I knew then, and confidence, knowledge, and wisdom I wish I had…the blessings I have received, the life that I have, I would not trade for all the bacon in the mid-west…or all the bourbon in Tennessee.

Again, I say what the Spirit has taught me:

Every moment has its time.
Every person has their place.
Do not brush aside, or rush by, either.
In doing so, you may miss God’s wish for you
To either ENJOY a miracle…

…or BE the miracle.

He walked in through the doors from the narthex of the church, where I had just started working as Music Director, and he looked grumpier than usual.

“Oh, good.” I thought, sarcastically.

I looked up from the piano where I was arranging my pages of music before the service that day.  I had not been with this congregation very long and was just beginning to put names with faces, and dispositions.  This man’s disposition, face, and name was a combination I learned quickly.  He was never happy about anything.  From the building’s roof to sugar cream pie, he had a opinion, and it wasn’t a good one.

My bad habit of labeling a person (and in some cases then writing them off as someone not worthy of my time…forgive me, Father) had quickly labeled this guy as someone to avoid, someone whose opinion I guessed with every decision I made, whether he was present or not.  And so, he crippled me.  For every fifty or so people who thought I was wonderful, there would always be him.  It was his review, imagined or otherwise, that judged me.

And here he walked, down the aisle, quite possibly to let me know of another disappointment he had in me.

In a moment of weakness, and displaying a rare attribute of “agape” (love actions, despite how one feels), I said: “Hey, how’s it going?”

“The day could’ve started better.” Was his succinct, grim, reply.

OK, here we go.

“I have two identical-looking tubes in the medicine cabinet,” he continued, as my thoughts tried to imagine where he was going with this, “one of them is hemorrhoid cream, the other is Polygrip…I’ll leave the story right there.”

At this point I had an epiphany: this guy was funny (which meant he was intelligent), and suddenly I saw him in a different light.  It happened in a millisecond, but it happened.

He passed me, on his way to take care of something (it turned out to be a leaky baptistery) and as he passed he said one more thing.

“You’re doin’ good…don’t let the b*&%+ds get you down.” (as it says in the Scripture…somewhere, I’m sure).

That was one of three compliments (assuming THAT was a compliment) he ever directed toward me, always in private.  I have remembered it all these years.  He and I also shared some memorably irreverent moments during board meetings, when we sat in the back, side-by-side.

He taught me that I cannot judge any person, based on a first impression.  I cannot make choices based on an uncomfortable or painful moment. He also taught me that irritating people aren’t what they seem…and we never know anyone’s “backstory”…

…there are many people who are “lonely porcupines”, afraid to get close and determined to keep you away.

Every moment has its time.
Every person has their place.
Do not brush aside, or rush by, either.
In doing so, you may miss God’s wish for you
To either ENJOY a miracle…

…or BE the miracle.

It’s no secret one of my favorite places to hang out after a rehearsal, performance, church, or to write and work (while eating and drinking) is SCAMPY’S ANNEX.  For those of you not from around Anderson, Indiana, SCAMPY’S is a local, family-owned “pizza/pub” with a rich and generous history.  It’s a local “watering hole” and a great place to eat, drink, meet people and have a great time…owned and operated by some pretty cool people.

I’m there quite a bit; an average of twice a week or more, during the theatre season.  I love the staff, they’re like family now, and I always see some other patron I know. When I lived alone I used to retreat there to work and eat by myself. I liked being out of the house eating something I didn’t need to make, and I enjoyed the chatter around the place while I worked (the quantity of sermons written there, over the years, is astounding). Whenever I’m there, whether with friends or alone, I sit down and “exhale”.  It is usually the end of the day, and I whisper a “thank you” to the Spirit. It has become a place that is comfortable, hospitable, and familiar.  

Against a back wall of the room is a JUKEBOX.  Now, I say JUKEBOX, and that is “technically” what it is, but JUKEBOXES have changed even since I was young.  This one doesn’t require you to stand in front of it and push buttons, unless you want to.  It doesn’t even require change – you can use APPLE PAY or your credit card (handy).  But the awesome thing is the JUKEBOX APP, for my iPHONE, which connects me to the JUKEBOX, from wherever I am…over the internet.  I put money in the APP on my phone, select the music (from a vast catalogue of virtually every style), and the JUKEBOX plays my song.

So, imagine this scenario: there I was, the JUKEBOX and APP were new, and it was my first time using it.  I go to the APP on my phone, choose the JUKEBOX I’d like to activate (There it is: SCAMPY’S), and I begin to choose some music which will then mysteriously play throughout the room, and no one will know who has chosen the songs. I chose my first, inaugural, song to be played on the new-fangled JUKEBOX – “STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN” which I thought was appropriate, both as a patron and minister.  It didn’t play.  I waited, waited, waited…still nothing.  So, I told myself I had done the whole process wrong.  I lost a little bit of change, but “purchased” another play of “STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN”…still nothing, even though my phone was saying the first song I ordered was already playing.  So, I thought, “third time’s a charm” and set it to play once more.

AFTER I had hit the button to play a THIRD TIME, on my phone, I noticed there were TWO listings for SCAMPY’S: there was the listing for SCAMPY’S ANNEX (where I was enjoying my pizza in silence) and a listing for SCAMPY’S (the full bar next door, part of the same place) – and suddenly dawn broke over my head – they had another JUKEBOX in the bar…WHICH MY PHONE WAS CONNECTED TO.  That’s right, while I was sitting in the silence of SCAMPY’S ANNEX, the bar patrons next door were enjoying THREE ROUNDS of one of the longest songs in history: back-to-back performances of, “STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN”! 

Now, I’m sure that was more than irritating for them, though I didn’t go over and check.  To this day I’m not sure anyone understands what happened. 

That experience, however, started me on a journey to “alter the mood of my fellow patrons in the ANNEX” with music.  I’ve walked in where various families, groups or couples are quietly talking over their meals when all of the sudden an energetic song that I’ve stealthily placed in the JUKEBOX queue fills the room.  I like to guess, as an observer of human nature, what kind of songs would “speak” to the people present – though I don’t personally know them. It’s amazing to see the power of music to change the mood and sound of a room.  People become filled with energy: the sounds are not just louder (probably trying to be heard over the music) but also filled with laughter and a little more energy.

 I’m not making this up, the power of music to alter the essence of a place and person is like seeing the change when a light it turned on in darkness, or a smile appears on a face, or someone you love walks into the room.

While I’ve had fun choosing music at SCAMPY’S, the Spirit takes advantage of that time, once again, to teach.  Though music is a more powerful example, I have seen how a small thing makes big changes.  How a kind word shifts an entire day for someone, how a smile to a stranger, will change the way they walk as they pass, and how a “thank you” to a server is the “icing on the cake” for someone who may feel transparent to the many customers they have served that day.

Jesus is right.  We are, or I should say we have the choice to be, “the salt of the earth”.  Connecting to Jesus is achieved by our connection to each other, and visa versa.  When we “do unto others” we “do unto Him”.  The person who makes others laugh, who lifts others up with their words, who smiles, who thanks…who gives, is a person who connects us with each other, and connects us with God.

Our spiritual ancestors understood that God’s commands (mitzvot) were centered around creating connections with each other and forming or maintaining community, with the understanding that God is loved when we love each other.

If you have a regular time, or place, to exhale and give a little “thanks”, also take the time to “turn on the music” in someone’s life.  It doesn’t take a special skill, “you ARE the salt of the earth”, you don’t need the JUKEBOX APP on your phone.  All you need to do is remember what it was like when Jesus Himself, or through someone else, turned the music on for you – and do that: smile, thank, embrace, give, and love.

“Money spent on a JUKEBOX is never a wasted investment.”
Famous quotes by RICK VALE 

“Above all, put on love — the perfect bond of unity. And let the peace of the Messiah, to which you were also called in one body, control your hearts. Be thankful. Let the message about the Messiah dwell richly among you, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, and singing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or in deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.”
COLOSSIANS 3:14-17

YOU are the JUKEBOX of the world.

a BLOG by Pastor Ken Rickett

Just a few days ago I started a 3,000-piece jigsaw puzzle. When I opened the box and put all the pieces in 5 separate containers, my task was to bring order to the chaos.

First, I searched all the boxes for the straight edges that formed the perimeter. Then I studied the picture of the puzzle, and decided my next project was to find the pieces of the windows in two houses and put the windows together…since the two houses were different colors, I then searched for the pieces showing these dwellings and put them together. Then I did the same for a barn. The puzzle was a fall scene, so I found the pieces and put together the pumpkins, etc. Mind you, I haven’t yet finished a complete house, barn, or all the pumpkins. I haven’t even started putting the sunset sky nor the trees in the yard. It is that big of a chaos, and it will take a while to bring order to this awesome chaos. The family has no idea how long they will be without a dining room table as this massive puzzle awaits completion.

When God created everything, God brought order out of the existing chaos, first creating the heavens and the earth, then all living things. Primitive Hebrew language has no past tense, but a past perfect tense which implies ongoing action. The first verse of Genesis 1:1, in most Bibles, reads “in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth,” but the better translation would be “From the beginning God was creating the heavens and the earth.” Creation continues. Actually, God brings order out of chaos. And bringing order is a basic function of everyday life.

Bringing order out of chaos is messy. If you don’t believe it, just look at my dining room table where I am attempting to put together that 3,000-piece puzzle. I literally have hundreds of pieces lying all around the few bits that I have already put together–let alone what is in the boxes. As I look at many of those pieces I laid out, thinking it might fit into that section of the puzzle (houses, barn, pumpkins), I now wonder what in the world I was thinking to lay some of those pieces out. You see, part of the chaos is that pieces that fit elsewhere in the puzzle can look incredibly like the pieces I really needed. Not all orange colors are pumpkins—have you ever seen a sunset scene that didn’t glow orange in paintings and color photos?

Bringing order out of that chaos is not only messy, but also slow and patient. A teenager dreams of becoming a medical doctor. What a huge puzzle that must be put together! College, med school, residency, and finally a medical practice. Throw in the financing of many years of schooling, obtaining dorms or housing, and putting food on the table. Talk about a slow process that needs a ton of patience to put such a puzzle together! Yet, invisible in this puzzle will be those moments of joy and celebration as well as disappointment and anguish, but bringing order out of chaos has those mental, emotional, and psychological highs and lows.

Life is about bringing order out of chaos. Not only in choosing a career path (a puzzle requiring much work and sacrifice), but also in marriage there is chaos seeking order. About the time a couple get a bit of order established, children come! Rearing them requires a constant, patient, and slow ordering of chaos if the children are to become mature adults. I like to think of the story of Job in the Old Testament as a glimpse into everyday life for all of us. There are times that we “lose” much that may be dear to us, bringing chaos and a need for re-ordering life. The three counselors of Job, faced with the task of helping Job re-establish order, were basically ineffective because they could not help envisioning a new picture of life (i.e., a new puzzle to be put in order). But eventually, with God’s help, order was restored but not “back to the same family and circumstance.” The task of putting life’s chaos in order is never about “going back”, it is about creating anew.

Ministry makes a huge difference in life, but sometimes ministry is “messy, chaotic!” You see, good intentions do not always have a good result. I once took a person to a facility that would feed, clothe, and help find a job. I thought, “Boy, this is ministry at its best!” Imagine my plunging “good feelings” when, just three weeks later, this person apparently decided that his unstructured life was not to be shaped by “providers of food, clothing, and jobs.” For some people, a re-ordering of life is “going back.” I learned that painful mental, emotional, and psychological scars can and will block all “helpfulness” and ministry. On the other hand, I once went on a mission trip to help re-build after a tornado. One lady who lived alone had some damage to her house, but it was salvageable. Her house had been built around an old log cabin that had been in her family for generations. While we had to cut and re-shape some of those old hand-hewn logs, we did not re-create what had been, but we re-created her house, including the part that was not the old cabin, with modern wiring, roofing, and even some appliances.

Bringing order out of chaos is always an act of creation.

So, what will happen to my 3,000-piece puzzle once I complete it? Well, I can congratulate myself and then take the puzzle apart piece by piece and put it back in the box, returning it to a state of chaos (maybe permanently if no one puts it together again). Or I can glue it, build a frame, and place a stiff backing on the backside so that the oversized puzzle will hold together, and then hang it on the wall (or give it away). BUT will my family let me “hog” the dining room table for a few more weeks so that I can do all these things–otherwise, I can’t even get the puzzle off the table without creating chaos (taking the puzzle apart)! And above all, I must decide if I really want to keep a 3,000-piece puzzle that will require that I remove from one entire wall all pictures and re-arrange furniture just to accommodate this monster! To put that thing on the wall is chaotic in itself! AND WHAT IF. . .once I hang this big puzzle on the wall, no one likes it! Even more chaos comes!

CHAOS! IT IS A PART OF LIFE! And so is creating anew!

What if a huge part of our spiritual journey is not seeking a higher spirituality, but what if our higher spirituality comes from our lifelong effort to bring order out of chaos and transforming life for ourselves and others into God’s kingdom on earth? After all, isn’t that what Jesus taught us to pray. . . and seek?

24601: That is the number the prison gives to identify the man known as Jean Valjean, the protagonist in the book and musical, LES MISERABLES. 24601.  The number is not only given for identification, but also is thrown in the face of a man who carries a name, a family, a history…so that the penal system can remind him that he is “less than a man”…he is only a number.

That is what is what “the world” does best…it reduces humanity.  The world takes the fullness of life and reminds all of us that we are only a statistic, just a number in a vast sea of like numbers.

Depending on which circle one walks in, they are either one voice-type in a choir, a checking account number, an address, a blonde, a catholic, a poor person, a wacko.  The world will constantly reduce us to the least common denominator.  The world will do what is easiest, most efficient…and most degrading.

I remember the day I flew to Washington State with a medium-sized wooden box containing the ashes of my father.  Those ashes were all that was left of his body, after the world had its way…that, and a series of forms, two bags of odds and ends, and a few clothes.  This is what the world thought of him.  That is what the world thinks of you and me.  We may bask in greatness and popularity, or sulk in our inability to gain what we think we are worth…but either way, the world doesn’t care.  Don’t kid yourself, the world, as God Himself has said, is a prostitute who may flatter and tempt…but in the end you’re nothing more to her than a loaf of bread…if even that.

That’s what the world, with its popularity contests, worship of youthful beauty, and elevation of wealth and power above all things does to us.  However, the world does not define what LIFE is.  God defines LIFE.  And HE does the opposite of what the world does; instead of reducing humanity, God elevates, enhances, and fills humanity.

The scripture reminds us that God has elevated us, crowned us, claims us as children, and pronounces us heirs to the universe.  “Life” is not defined by the things that are left when our breath takes flight.  “Life” IS that breath, the very breath that was given us the day we first cried.  “Life” as God sees it, is something that not only lives forever, but is MORE real after we rid ourselves of these bodies and this world.  God does not see my father or mother as “ashes in a box”, but as individual, golden, perennial diamonds.  He knows them as Marge & Tom, the children for whom He would do anything, reach any depth, and fly across the universe to rescue.

We who Believe & Follow The Way are the bearers of THIS torch: that the world will flatter us, tempt us, beat us and try to kill us…but God is “not of this world” and this Age will be cleaned to make way for the next; an Age with homes for each of His children.  An Age ruled by the King who put on our skin so that we might trust Him, believe Him and follow Him…from the manger to the cross and through the tomb back to the Garden.

The only things from this Age that we will see in the next are each other.  Don’t let the world reduce you and define you…and more importantly, don’t be a part of the world’s conspiracy by reducing another person to something less than they are – our relationship to one another is the only true currency we take with us to The-Age-To-Come.  How we love them here and now, in this age, defines our love for God. So, let’s do for each other what God does for us: ELEVATE each other with words of praise, ENHANCE each other by sharing their gifts and giving them of ours, and FILL each other with acts of love that are unconditional.

“To love another person is to see the face of God.”
VICTOR HUGO, author of LES MISERABLES 

“Dear friends, let us love one another, because love is from God,
and everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.”
I JOHN 4:7

I tell this story regularly, so I apologize, but I DO love this story.  I’m telling it again now because we all need to tell our stories and pass them down.  The things we know, the family history we have, needs to be shared so that we continue to learn and grow.  I am also now one of the few who knows THIS particular story and I would like to “give honor where honor is due” by telling it.

The tiny little girl was called “Lizzy”, her full name was “Elizabeth”.  She belonged to a mother and father who, for reasons unknown, found themselves in terrible debt to another family.  In the days when Lizzy was born debts were settled privately, out of court, in ways that many of us today would find unenlightened and repulsive.  It was, however, the way things were done, in certain days and times, and in certain regions in this country.  Some debts were paid through servitude.  As it was, little Lizzy was given up by her parents as payment to a debt owed to the family to which they were indebted.  She was, before she was one year old, a bond-slave (although that term was probably not used); given to serve out her life as a servant to a family that was not her own so the debt of her parents could be paid.

The Moore family, who received Lizzy, were (thankfully) gracious and kind, beneficent, and practical.  Lizzy grew up on hard farm work, but so did the Moore children.  All indications were that she was treated well, not poorly, and that the family loved her.  However, she wasn’t the same as the children she was raised alongside, SHE was an outsider.  The Moores were not her parents, and in fact nothing was ever known of her biological parents after they gave Lizzy to the Moore family.  She was, at that point, not the member of any family.

But Lizzy discovered someone who DID think she belonged…if to no one else, to him and his heart.  He fell in love with the teenaged girl who worked for the Moore family and lived in their home.  Before she came of age, he asked for her hand in marriage.

And here we are at the crossroads of this story. Mr. Moore needed to agree upon the marriage, as he had every right…not as Lizzy’s father, but as her owner.  If he didn’t believe the original debt had been sufficiently paid, he would not let her go.  Up to this point, the date of her 18th birthday, she had no life but what she lived vicariously through the family who raised her.  She didn’t even have a last name, she was only Elizabeth Idella; “Lizzy”.  She had no property, owned nothing…but here was a chance.

The beautiful part of the story is that the Moores agreed to the marriage, finding the boy agreeable and a suitable match.  On Lizzy’s 18th birthday the Moore family gave her 3 wonderful gifts:

a bedroom suite of furniture,
her freedom,
and their name…
…a home, wings, and a name.

No longer would she be known as the “girl who worked for the Moores”, she left for her wedding as Elizabeth Idella…Moore.

I love this story for two reasons.

FIRST: it is a true story which reflects what happens to any of us who accept the gift of life and redemption of debt.  We are all in debt, but God sets us free, He gives us a home to take care of…and then He gives us His name.  He does this not because of who WE are but because of who HE is.  He gives to us because it is in His nature to give, to love, to set free and to embrace us.  How can we walk away from that and not be thankful every day?

SECOND: I love this story is because Lizzy and her husband had a daughter, Mary Elizabeth (so to carry the name of her mother, the freed “bond-slave”).  Mary Elizabeth eventually married and had a daughter named, Routh Elizabeth…also named after the bond-slave grandmother.  Routh Elizabeth grew up and eventually married.  She and her husband Troy had a daughter, and they named her Margery Elizabeth, once again never forgetting the story of the now great-grand-mother who was a “bond-slave set free.”  And, as you’ve probably guessed, or remembered from my telling of this story before, Margery Elizabeth married a young soldier named Tom Vale…and they had a son named Rick.

 I am thankful today for my great-great-grandmother, Elizabeth Idella Moore, who lived her childhood out paying a debt she herself did not incur. She was set free and was given a home, wings and a name…so that I could have the same.  I am also thankful that even though we’ve never met, she has taught be about our Heavenly Father…who also give me A Home, Wings & A Name…He paid my debt and so, I belong, I am free, and I am His.

 “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches To him who overcomes, to him I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, and a new name written on the stone which no one knows but he who receives it.” – REVELATION 2:17

“I don’t believe in God anymore,” I overheard her say to a friend on the phone, while we were both in line at KROGER, “I just know too many hypocrites.” 

I was so happy to have a theme for my BLOG that I didn’t turn around and say, “So if you saw a man walking on the streets of Anderson with bad hair, would you stop believing in barbers, too?” 

Seriously, when John Hinckley tried to assassinate President Reagan, in an effort to appease the actress Jodi Foster, did anyone blame JODI FOSTER?  I know it’s difficult, because for many people Christians are the only reflection of God they see – but please, let’s not blame God for some (not all) of His followers.

This overheard conversation was on the heels of another that I was a part of, just days before, where an acquaintance stated that they had stopped going to their church, after 2019/2020, because they don’t like the new Pastor.  That all may be true, and his Pastor may indeed be a moron…but is worship/faith/congregational life about the Pastor…or the sanctuary…or the hypocrites…or the worship style?

On the other hand, is WORSHIP/CHURCH-GOING and BELIEF something we sigh and shoulder, like medicine, or in-laws, or spin class?  Absolutely not.  Belief/ Worship should unlock doors, unclip wings, open windows…and, in short, set us free!

Unfortunately, Belief and Worship are so strongly tied to individual paradigms, preferences, history and deep-seated emotion that it is difficult to separate all of that from what Worship actually requires.

You and I have songs which suddenly stir up memories and cause us to feel secure, safe, loved…and we want to hear that song in worship (for some it’s AMAZING GRACE and others, LORD, I LIFT YOUR NAME ON HIGH)…it’s what makes worship wonderful for us.  However, does my pew-mate, who doesn’t have MY history or sentiment, feel the same way?  Of course not.  My world does not necessarily define THEIR world.

One congregation, where I ministered, had an extraordinarily-great Sacred Dance team; professional and beautiful.  Sitting on the same pew, experiencing the same worship moment of dance, one parishioner said that she had a problem with dance in the sanctuary because dance was “of the devil”, as she had been taught.  In the same pew was a deaf worshipper who said that she was always thrilled when we had dance because it was the ONE part of worship that didn’t need to be “interpreted” for her.  

The woman who didn’t enjoy the dance realized the truth that dance isn’t “of the devil”, but her paradigm and history with dance colored her perception of it in worship, it was generational and based on childhood experience and teaching.  The non-hearing worshiper, who had no other experience in church, had no such preconceptions.  The first lady wasn’t going to leave the church or stop worshiping because she didn’t enjoy the dance, and the second wasn’t defining ALL of worship by her emotional tie to dance, and limited personal experience of worship…I think BOTH were wise in their decisions. 

I like hamburgers (I get that from my Dad), and I mourn that red meat no longer likes me.  But, in the day, I preferred BURGER KING over McDONALDS, when it came to burger prep.  On the other hand, McDONALDS had BURGER KING beat when it came to milk shakes and fries (in MY opinion).  BOTH franchises sell burgers but the rest is up to personal preference, or what “speaks to me” (shakes and fries DO speak to me).

I prefer worship like ours at Central, with scripture, prayer, hymns from the hymnal, communion, pipe organ and some good tradition.  Somewhere in town, however, is a church that doesn’t own any hymnals, the Pastor might read one scripture and the songs go on, one after another, for 30-45 minutes…after that the Pastor preaches for an hour…and the congregation LOVES it.  Both congregations worship (that’s the burger), but one congregation prefers their worship (burger) with ketchup and the other with mayo.  Is one correct and the other wrong?  No.  If one is unhappy with their worship should they cease believing?  No.  Should they find a worship pattern that speaks to them?  Yes.  As long as they’re serving burgers¸ then it’s just a matter of finding the way one likes it prepared.

When a worshiper sits in worship unhappy and tense because they don’t like the songs, the pastor, the “style”…should they stop believing in worship?  Of course not…what they don’t like isn’t “worship”, it’s the peripherals.

When a person labeling themselves as “Christian” treats another human being in a manner that would make Jesus wanna slap ‘em upside the head…should we stop believing in God?  Of course not, the problem isn’t God, it’s the Follower.

At the heart of “Belief” AND “Worship” are the same elements: Spirit & Truth / Heart & Mind.  Everything else is flexible.  Everything else is commentary.  Everything else is a “condiment.”

JOHN 4:7-26
A woman of Samaria came to draw water.
“Give Me a drink,” Jesus said to her, for His disciples had gone into town to buy food.
“How is it that You, a Jew, ask for a drink from me, a Samaritan woman? ” she asked Him. For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.
Jesus answered, “If you knew the gift of God, and who is saying to you, ‘Give Me a drink,’ you would ask Him, and He would give you living water.”
“Sir,” said the woman, “You don’t even have a bucket, and the well is deep. So where do You get this ‘living water’? You aren’t greater than our father Jacob, are You? He gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did his sons and livestock.”
Jesus said, “Everyone who drinks from this water will get thirsty again. But whoever drinks from the water that I will give him will never get thirsty again — ever! In fact, the water I will give him will become a well , of water springing up within him for eternal life.”
“Sir,” the woman said to Him, “give me this water so I won’t get thirsty and come here to draw water.”
“Go call your husband,” He told her, “and come back here.”
“I don’t have a husband,” she answered.
“You have correctly said, ‘I don’t have a husband,’” Jesus said. “For you’ve had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have said is true.”
“Sir,” the woman replied, “I see that You are a prophet. Our fathers worshiped on this mountain, yet you Jews say that the place to worship is in Jerusalem.”
Jesus told her, “Believe Me, woman, an hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You Samaritans worship what you do not know. We worship what we do know, because salvation is from the Jews. But an hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth. Yes, the Father wants such people to worship Him. God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth.”
The woman said to Him, “I know that Messiah, is coming” (who is called Christ). “When He comes, He will explain everything to us.”
“I am He,” Jesus told her, “the One speaking to you.”

On a recent trip there was a moment we were surrounded, on all sides, by families with children.  As I age, I have a “love/hate” relationship with crowds.  I like to watch people, especially from other cultures, all together, vacationing: multiple languages, ages…I find that entertaining.  On the other hand, especially the older I get, I am not a fan of crowds.  I still like to be around people, but more and more I like to be on the outside looking in, rather than the middle.

My favorite pastime is observing and learning from human nature, and so, as in any vacation, I found a spot where I could sit and observe.  I love watching people interact, I love multiple cultures together in one place (family and friend dynamics don’t seem to change with the culture or language) and I ALWAYS find: if you’re searching for God to speak to you, He will. 

I sat and watched, on a crowded boulevard, as literally hundreds of families, couples, singles passed by shops and cafes.  Some were families, some couples, some singles, some groups of teens or groups of men, groups of women.  I could hear English, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, some Russian, and some German (or Dutch?)…in any case it was a beautiful sight…from a distance.

The children are especially fun to watch, and parenting, even within one ethnic group and/or age, is always a source of conversation. In this case, there were lots of kids.  I began watching one small boy in particular.  He was small, maybe 4 or 5 years old.  He was Italian (I recognized, though could not translate, the language).  He was seemingly alone…that’s why I kept an eye on him – to see if any parent or sibling was nearby.  He had been distracted by a very colorful car and was looking in to see if he could get inside.

Suddenly, as if realizing he was in a sea of strangers, some 6 people deep, he stopped and looked around – turning quickly one way and then the other – as his face turned from joy to panic.  I could see from his face he was about to cry, feeling what HE wouldn’t have been able to label, but I could – abandonment.

He shouted at the top of his little lungs, “Papa!”  Again and again, turning, looking, eyes wide with a little fear.  It all happened in an instant, but probably seemed like ages to him.

Then, the tall young father, who had been standing some 2 feet away, his back turned, turned around and their eyes locked.  The little boy stepped to him, and the man easily lifted him up, kissed him and said one of the few Italian phrases I could translate: “Sono qui.” (“I am here.”).

In a flash, and with yet another thankful prayer to the Spirit, I saw a “life picture” of mine, which has played over and over:

I pull away.

I am surrounded by the crowd of strangers.

I feel danger.

I feel abandoned.

I cry out…

…only to find that God has never left my side.

He lifts me up, kisses me and says, “I am here.”

This season of life, both mine and ours (in this time and place) I need to remember that I may pull away, but HE never does.  As close as a hand, a hug…and a kiss…is my Jesus. 

A BLOG by PASTOR KEN RICKETT

Lately, I have watched cracks in the dry soil around my yard widen up to a half inch or more. Dry.

I have seen parts of my unshaded yard turn brown. I am in my 3rd week without mowing, in an effort to keep my yard green as long as I can. Dry.

I have labored daily to water flowers and a couple of tomato plants. Dry.

When I moved here 5 years ago, I set out 2 tiny peach trees about a foot high. Now they are about 12 to 15 feet high and for the first time, they have fruit. I “mist” the trees almost daily and cringe at the fact that the fruit is smaller than it should be as we enter July. Dry.

Dry. We tend to think that dryness is always a bad omen. Dryness is the “mean side” of climate change, lowering fresh water availability and curtailing crop production or reducing meat supplies. Or we fear dryness is here to stay and annual rainfall will continue to slip downwards in coming years. Or dryness is Mother Nature’s reaction to humankind’s abuse of the planet. Granted, the worst can happen with continued dryness. But that is not my subject for today.

In simple definition, dryness is the lack of humidity in the air all around us and the lack of moisture in the soil.

I am amazed at the benefits of low humidity. I can walk my dog in 90 plus degree weather and not get drenched with sweat like I usually do. Dryness with low humidity. I am amazed that I can sit in my porch swing in low humidity and the sun’s heat is warming rather than uncomfortably hot. Dryness with low humidity is often a summertime respite.

Dry places are not always places of weakness and dying. Did not Jesus go into the desert for 40 days and nights (a biblical phrase that means “a long time”), and yet had the strength and fortitude to reject three temptations offered by the Adversary (Satan)?

Deserts are dry places with low humidity, yet places where insight into the Holy is lifesaving! And also the children of Israel, led by Moses, crossed the Red Sea into the Sinai Desert where they roamed for 40 years. There are no stories of thunderstorms in that narrative. A dry place with low humidity–where people have survived for a long, long time.

I am not ready to live in a real desert where it is dry with low humidity all the time. I want my green grass and tall, stately and leafy trees. I want to enjoy the coming harvests from trees–peaches, apples, walnuts and a few more delectable fruits. I want my flowers to flourish with greenness and blooms and my vegetables to grow large and tasty. I want nearby rivers to flow generously and streams to provide fishing. I want birds to flitter in the bird bath. I want to mow lawns again.

I am ready to welcome a few days of high humidity and soaking rains amidst these hot summer days.

Please, Lord, just send some rain.