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 67-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 WAS in High School.

I’ve imagined the differences and how much better I’d play out my life because of my knowledge and experience now:

• 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.
• 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”.
• 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”.
• 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.
• I would’ve found one adult, who wasn’t a parent, to trust and open up to. 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.
• 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.
• I would learn more instruments and read more books.
• I would buy the same first car. (1972 Plymouth Duster, Army Green…slant six, four-on-the-floor).
• I would’ve used more hair product, grown it longer…and worn my puka shells in my Senior Picture, despite my mom’s warning that it “would make my Senior look too dated, years from then”
• 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:

• 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.

The choices I was thinking of 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 North Carolina…or all the bourbon in Tennessee.

Again, I say what the Spirit teaches:

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.

Luke 12:27

“Consider the lilies, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.” 

“Consider the lilies…” 

You bet I do! My favorite flowers, indeed!

My yard has several sites where lilies grow! While they are in bloom I marvel at their intricate, bright colors. Daylilies, stargazer lilies, and other species of lilies are not only “eye catchers” but also “nose catchers” as some have a sweet, pleasing fragrance that can be noted from several feet away!

“Consider the lilies…” Jesus said, inviting folks to note that lilies labor and spin not, but they grow under the mysterious Hand of God and their blooms are far more beautiful than King Solomon in all his glory…a reference to the King who actually built the Temple in Jerusalem with its ornate decor and gold inlays.

“Consider the lilies…” Jesus said and note that the lilies are not anxious nor troubled. They grow and bloom in their own time, not rushing nor slowing Mother Nature’s (God) design.

“Consider the lilies…” Jesus said, and I do consider them! If I want lovely lilies, I have “work to do!” I plant the bulbs, mulch the soil around them, replenish the nutrients for healthy plants, and I water them in drought. And every few years I will have 10-12 plants where I only planted a couple of bulbs because lilies reproduce by creating new bulbs. Over time, if I do nothing, then the clump of lilies will keep enlarging OR I may choose to dig up some of the bulbs in the fall and plant them elsewhere in my yard OR I can give a few bulbs to others who enjoy lilies. Lilies can be hard work at times!

“Consider the lilies…” Jesus said, inviting us to marvel as we think about lilies. Lilies do not toil or spin! They do not fret and worry. And yet, they are exquisitely beautiful! 

“Consider the lilies”…Jesus said, and likewise, we are not to worry and fret about food and clothing because our life (GK: “zoe”) is wrapped up in God “Consider the lilies…” Jesus said, BUT notice what Jesus did NOT say…Jesus did NOT say that we should likewise avoid toiling and spinning! I have lovely lilies because I “toil.” If I did not keep the invasive vines pulled out of my lilies, the lilies would become smothered by the sheer weight of an invasive weed. If I did not control the weeds, not even I could see the beauty of the lilies. To experience the God-given beauty of my lilies, I have work to do. I have to put nutrients in the soil by feeding them, I have to keep the grass from crowding the lilies. I have to remove grass and weeds that encroach on the lilies to the point that the lilies do not get adequate moisture. Yep! God grows my lilies and they do not have to toil nor spin…. that’s MY JOB!

“Consider the lilies….” Jesus said, with the implication that beauty of the lily is God-given, but the care of the lily is our work. Yes, God takes care of us just as surely as God takes care of the lilies. We are not to worry about what we will eat or about our bodies (and clothing). Worry not, but, instead, embrace life…for life (Greek “zoe”, meaning life wrapped up in GOD who is eternal) is more than food and the body more than clothing. Mind you, this whole conversation about lilies was started when a man asked Jesus to ask his brother to share the inheritance (from parents) with him (Luke 12:13f).

Obviously, the man wanted to live in the abundance that a goodly portion of his brother’s inheritance would have provided. Wanting a chunk of his brother’s inheritance, the man wanted “the life of Riley”, a life on “easy street” with no worries about food or clothing. His vision of life is best expressed in the word bios (Greek bios meaning physical life) of ease! Such abundance would take care of all his earthly needs…or so the man thought!

Jesus responded to the man by the story of the successful farmer who built bigger barns to hoard his over-abundance of crops. And then…the farmer died. His abundance gave this farmer no benefits on this earth or in the afterlife. Then Jesus begins teaching….

“Consider the lilies….” Jesus taught. Have we missed the whole point of this text? Yes, indeed! “Consider the lilies”, Jesus said. You see, abundance is not ours to possess or own. Any earthly abundance, including food and clothing is often fleeting rather than enduring. True abundance is only given to us…and it is given by God. God’s abundance comes in the form of love, grace, mercy, peace, forgiveness, etc. …and all God asks is that we SEE this abundance

“Consider the lilies…” Lilies live in the abundance of God…and such is our life (“zoe”) just for the awe and wonder of seeing the beauty of God’s abundance.

Every Sunday morning, I have a tradition or ritual, if you will, when I arrive at the Church Building. This “ritual” started as things that needed to be done by the “first person who arrives” (me) and then developed into something more.

Usually, I am the one who unlocks the doors and turns on the lights. It begins when I park “Aubergine” (my faithful Buick) in my parking spot beside the alley door. I’ve already been playing a “Sunday morning soundtrack” and having a little worship in the car. I let myself in the alley door, walk up the stairs and first turn on the hallway lights. I make my way down the back hall towards Schuster Chapel, passing the historic photos of generations past. I then step into the chapel where I leave my coffee and Sunday things (Bible, sermon stuff, etc.) 

I turn on two lights in the chapel, shut the doors and then unlock the 10^th Street outside doors (the ones for the chapel & elevator). Then I walk up to the doors at the back of the sanctuary and walk to the sound booth, where I turn on the sound. I check the “McEucharist” packets in the basket in the back (to make sure we have enough) as I travel north towards the Jackson Street door.

I come to the switch plate panel for the lights in the sanctuary and turn them all on before proceeding to the Jackson Street door, where I turn on the narthex lights and unlock the doors.

I return then to the sanctuary chancel area (up front) and turn on the lights above the pulpit, lectern, piano, organ and all. I open the small door behind the piano to the area behind the chancel and turn on the lights in the reredos (the fancy, carved, wood thing above the baptistry) and behind the stained-glass window of the baptistry.

Returning through the door behind the piano, I make sure the lectern light is on and the handheld mic under the pulpit is working. Then on to the 10^th Street door in the 10^th Street narthex, lights on, doors unlocked. Finally, I walk through Sims Parlor and turn on all those lights before returning to the chapel, where I “preach my sermon to the empty pews in the chapel” – as a final “dress rehearsal”.

Now, as you can see, this is a detailed description of what I do. It’s accurate, and I was able to write it down quickly and without much thought…because the pattern of it hasn’t changed in years. What HAS changed is this “circle around the sanctuary” has become a “Circle of Prayer”.

WITH EACH UNLOCKED DOOR: “Father, throw Your arms wide open to any and all who enter – let OUR arms be Yours.”

 WITH EACH LIGHT: “Father, enlighten us and help us to see.”

WITH EACH PASS AROUND THE PEWS: “Father, protect those who sit here. Love, through us, each one who sits here. Breathe Your breath of life, Your Spirit of Truth, on each person who sits here.”

IN SIMS PARLOR: “Father, help us make this house a home.”

When I started doing what I call my “Circle of Prayer”, years ago, I engaged my mind and heart and thought about what I was saying. But just this last Sunday, I caught myself in the back of the chancel area turning on the baptistry light when I realized I had been walking, unlocking, turning on lights, and saying the prayers, without realizing it…it was in my body automatically. I might say that is a good thing (that it was so automatic) except that I was doing it without “thinking/feeling”.

That’s when the “lesson of it” hit me. This is TRADITION without REASON, TRUTH without SPIRIT, STYLE without CONTENT…RELIGION without RELATIONSHIP. 

A performing artist, whether singing, acting, dancing, or playing an instrument, practices to get the music or movement in their bodies. I know, as a pianist, that memorizing a piece of music is sometimes done through sense memory: your fingers remember where to go, and when. But my piano teachers always reminded me that my mind needed to memorize also, telling me what chord I was playing, and which chord I’d be moving to…seeing/hearing the music as I played. Why? Because in times of stress (like a performance) sense memory abandons you and you must rely on your mind. And how many times have I either seen that happen, or had it happen to me? In acting it’s called, “going up” on your line: not just forgetting the line, but being blocked from remembering even how to go on, or what comes next. 

In our Faith, this is the danger of TRADITION and RITUAL. Both are good things to help us practice the presence of God, to remind ourselves of our life together, and our life with Him…but if TRADITION has no foundation, if RITUAL has no basis in history or reason then it is useless. That’s why we need both TRADITION AND REASON, TRUTH AND SPIRIT, STYLE AND CONTENT, RELIGION AND RELATIONSHIP. 

I don’t say that TRADITION, TRUTH, STYLE, and RELIGION are bad in themselves, but they need to be paired with something that gives them substance and reason. Even TRUTH, as we are taught by the Spirit, is cold if it is not paired with LOVE, or with the ultimate “REASON” which is Jesus.

Be careful to not get into even Spiritual habits that become so ingrained that you can do them without thinking. What is your purpose? What is the reason behind the Spiritual habits that YOU do consistently (Why do you attend worship? Why do you sit in the same pew? Why do you pray WHEN you pray? Why do you SAY to God and to each other?) 

Sometimes we…I SHOULD say, “sometimes I…” need to start at the beginning and remember why this habit started in the first place.

My “Circle of Prayer” will be more thoughtful this coming Sunday as I think about what I am doing at that moment, even though I’ve been doing it each Sunday for years…and as I think about my vocation and avocation.

In fact, when I am gone, I hope that I will be remembered for doing nothing more than exposing everyone in my circle to the God who made us, who gives us life and joy and love…

…and in fact, all I ever did in my life here was to never hinder access to the Source of our Life and Love…all I did was unlock the Doors and turn on the Light.

Sometimes, often, the news is devastating, shocking and altogether too familiar.  We, who have lived more than a few years, are used to the fact that disasters, natural or otherwise, happen at the most unexpected times, but with regularity.  Can we ever get used to it?  Probably not…hopefully not. 

When numbers of innocent people are involved and when children are killed, for whatever reason, there are always questions.  There are always fingers pointing and blaming.  There are always “Hindsight Philosophers” giving a run-down on the events leading to and causing such a thing.  And, unfortunately, there are already doctrinal pundits willing to share their convictions about the sin of a state, a city or a government leader, and God’s punishment for such.  It is my belief that if God’s vengeance against sin was catastrophe or attack then all of us would be killed…

…we are all sinners in the hands of a merciful God.

What about those who say that God protected some, but not others, from dying in catastrophe?  How do those statements stand with the God-loving people who died?  Will God love any more or less than others?  Does God sit quietly by and allow catastrophe and war to kill innocent people?  Why do bad things happen if God is in control? 

All these questions are valid.   Where is God in the catastrophe?

The Scripture tells us the perfectly created world is now broken. The Scripture tells us the world we live in has a “property manager” who has been given permission to rule over the world for a time.  We are free to believe or not believe in these things. We are free to believe or not believe in God.  Good things as well as bad happen to “good” and the “not so good” …not because the “not so good”/unrighteous are deserving (nor the righteous, for that matter), but because God is generous. 

You have been taught to love your neighbor and hate your enemy.  But I tell you this: love your enemies.  Pray for those who torment you and persecute you – in so doing, you become children of your Father in heaven.  He, after all, loves each of us – good and evil, kind and cruel.  He causes the sun to rise and shine on evil and good alike.  He causes the rain to water the fields of the righteous and the fields of the sinner.  It is easy to love those who love you – even a tax collector can love those who love him.  And it is easy to greet your friends – even outsiders do that.  But you are called to something higher: “Be whole and mature, as your Father in heaven whole and mature.”
MATTHEW 5:43-48 (THE VOICE translation)

Good and bad happen to the good and the bad.  It is called life in this age.  But Jesus had even more to say about catastrophe.

…some people told Him the latest news about a group of Galilean pilgrims in Jerusalem – a group not unlike Jesus own entourage.  Pilate butchered them while they were at worship, their own blood mingling with the blood of their sacrifices.
JESUS: Do you think these Galileans were somehow being singled out for their sins, that they were worse than any other Galileans, because they suffered this terrible death?  Of course not.  But listen, if you do not consider God’s ways and truly change, then friends, you should prepare to face His judgment and eternal death.  Speaking of current events, you’ve all heard about the 18 people killed in that building accident when the tower in Siloam fell.  Were they extraordinarily bad people, worse than anyone else in Jerusalem, so that they would deserve such an untimely death? Of course not. But all the buildings of Jerusalem will come crashing down on you if you don’t wake up and change direction now.
LUKE 13:1-5 (THE VOICE translation) 

Jesus’ own words put things into perspective.  In this latest, as well as any other catastrophe, the victims are from all walks of life.  Their sacrifices had nothing to do with a judgment on their lives or the places they came from…that’s not how God works.  But IF you’d like to judge someone, how about yourself, as Jesus suggests.  Look to your heart and soul to make sure that when YOUR time comes your true life, the one that will outlast this body, is ready to stand before God and enter into His joy.

The God of the New Covenant, and His Son, clearly do not promote nor administer punishment in this way, neither through the vicious acts of the deranged, nor the force of nature’s wrath.  God indeed mourns with those who mourn, suffers with those who suffer, and will be judge all things at the time and place that He Himself will set. He also knows the rest of the story, the larger story…the things that we don’t know. 

In this age, catastrophe happens.  God is not a casual observer of such things, but it IS the price He pays for giving us our freedom, and it is the price we pay for living in a world that is corrupted by imperfection and sin.  When pain strikes, make no mistake, God is there to heal, to bind, to free, to counsel, and to love. 

Storms will come, floods will come…but Jesus is in the boat with us, He knows our bodies don’t define “life” …and He will see us through to the other side…however and whenever we get there.

Upon moving to Anderson in July 2017, I set out two peach trees, each of them only a foot high. Now they are about 12-15 feet high and have been bearing a few peaches for three years or so. This spring the blooms were so numerous that visions of lots and lots of peaches this coming August! Alas! During and after blooming temperatures fell below freezing a couple of times plus some mornings above freezing but frosty. Rain and dampness prevented the proper spraying at the right time. Would I harvest any peaches this year?

Imagine my surprise when both trees looked loaded with small, tiny peaches! On a limb just two feet long, I counted over 40 peaches…way, way too many for such a tiny limb. Undoubtedly, thinning peaches would be a must-do! I waited a week to see which peaches seemed to be growing the largest, and I pulled up about 100 when I noticed that the trees were self-thinning, that is, the underdeveloped peaches were falling on the ground. On a whim, I decided to pick up the inferior peaches off the ground and count them. After about six weeks, amid the gusty winds that have continually whipped through our community, to date (June 17th), I have counted 2,711, ranging in size from a watermelon seed to a small cherry tomato There is still plenty of growing peaches on the tree, but I am sure I will be adding a few more to my count of discarded fruit.

Why count these no-good peaches? I don’t know. Maybe it was a need to know how many peaches had formed from those numerous blooms and compare with the number I actually harvested later (probably less than 10-15%). Maybe it was a desire to explore Mother Nature’s secrets of survival from potential damage by over-fruiting. Maybe I have a compulsion to count the weirdest things!

As a young boy, cousins and friends would play “kick the can” after dark. Whoever was “it” had to count to 100 before he/she could hunt the rest of us. If found, a person would try to kick the can before “it” can get to the can. But if “it” beat the person to the can, then that person became “it.” OR in playing Monopoly, one either counts his money or his debts! Numerous board or card games require counting…

As a young teenager, my brother and I would take turns carrying a sack of shelled corn to the next-door neighbor who owned an old grist mill. The corn would be ground into cornmeal which was weighed (counted) in pounds and ounces from which a percentage of the cornmeal was payment for grinding.

I am always counting…. every time I make a major purchase, I must count my dollars in a way that I can pay or finance and still buy groceries and pay the bills. Points scored are counted and winners are declared in sports games. All through school and college, grades were a count of right “answers” compared against a standard. Whether conscious of it or not, we all count gallons of gas purchased or we count (estimate) the price of X gallons of gas.

We are, throughout life…still counting! 

Even the Bible tells us to count…OUR DAYS! How can we count our days if we don’t know how many days we have yet to live? Yeah, we all can count the days we have already lived…. but that is all. We may have one additional day or thousands of additional days to live. How do we “count our days?”

We count our days to measure, to take stock, to manage goals, to fulfill dreams, to count the cost, if not in value, then in energies to be spent, or to achieve a level of satisfaction or accomplishment, to both give and be blessed by the love of God and one another.

There are some things we don’t count…such as our own good works! God counts those! You may give thanks or gratitude for the good works that I have done toward you (even if you do not share that with me) and I may give thanks for the good works you do for me (even if I do not mention it). BUT GOD DOES THE COUNTING!

 We “number our days” in the humble acknowledgment that we are to remain faithful followers of God as revealed in Jesus Christ through the Holy Spirit.

 We number our days by knowing God is “... STILL COUNTING” our faithfulness! With GRACE and not condemnation!

She was as colorful a person as you would like to meet; my first piano teacher, Mrs. Beardsley.  With a smoker’s cough, low voice, and a pink living room (I especially remember the AMAZING aluminum Christmas tree with pink ornaments and rotating color wheel…this was the ’60’s) and a love for music, piano and her students that was unsurpassed.

When I first began taking lessons, the summer of my Kindergarten year, she would sit at a chair beside the piano bench.  Her manner never frightened or intimidated me, as she exhibited a free-spirited kind of love toward me and all her students in her manner.  Although I’m probably still suffering the effects of second-hand smoke, and scarred by the memory of her colorful pictures of motorcycle riding through California, and tales of she and her husband when they were young (which was, I have to admit, difficult to imagine…seeing the arthritically-crippled fingers and joints as I sat beside her at the piano) what has followed me through the years is her love, and the type of wisdom that a good teacher passes on; wisdom that goes deeper than the specifics of the lesson itself.

Although there are many stories and illustrations of care, teaching, music and love that I could tell (and have told), for the sake of today I am remembering the times I was learning specific pieces that she herself had played.  There was one particular Mozart piano piece that I was learning.  There was a certain passage which was exceptionally difficult, it seemed that week after week it never got any better.  Mrs. Beardsley, frustrated by her crooked, arthritic fingers and inability to adequately show me the fingering and technique used to play the passage, rose from her rose-pink Lazy-Boy (where she had moved in later years) and made her way to a hall closet where there were piles and piles of music, HER music books, from HER lessons as a child.  All the music was catalogued by composer and she quickly found “our” piece and brought it over.  She sat now beside me and placed her old copy of the piece at the piano.  Written in two hands, one; the fine pencil marks of HER teacher, and one the more childish writing of HER, as a child pianist, were notes, remarks, fingerings and exercises used for this piece.

And then she spoke the lesson I speak to you: “After playing this for so long, I’d forgotten how difficult it had been to learn.  A good teacher needs to remember being a student.”

The Spirit teaches us, through the Scripture and life, that our Jesus isn’t interested in remembering our sins.  (And just as a side-note here, remember that in English we have the one word, “sin”, but the Greeks had seven; everything from “forgetting”, “aiming-but-missing” to “out-and-out rebellion against God”…and all those different words are translated into our one word, “sin”).  Once we recognize, and ask forgiveness for, our debts, our mistakes, our defiance…Jesus is good to forgive AND forget.  But my belief is that WE should NEVER forget our mistakes, our bad choices, our sin.

Why?  Because, as Mrs. Beardsley taught me, and is now teaching you, “A good teacher needs to remember being a student.”  A forgiven Believer & Follower needs to remember when they weren’t a Believer and/or a Follower…or else they forget to feel for others and start down the slippery slope of “us and them” mentality.

If a care-giver forgets what it is like to be sick or incapacitated, their care becomes theoretical and academic.  If a minister forgets that he or she wasn’t always a minister, they cease being relevant, to say nothing of empathetic.  All of us who Believe & Follow have the tendency to become narrow in our acceptance and judgmental in our attitudes…that is obvious in everything we read and see on TV.  That comes, when we forget where our journey began.

When we, as Believers & Followers, forget that we used to NOT be Believers & Followers and the only reason we are now is because of who GOD is, and not because of who WE are…then we have no hope of ever reaching any other heart, of sharing any other burden, of holding any other hand in love.  When we lose our EMPATHY we cannot give SYMPATHY…when we forget our own struggle, we lose to tools needed to help anyone else in theirs.

And then we cease loving God…because the way we love HIM is by loving each other.  This Lenten season we could all afford to repeat again and again…”remember that you are dust”…not so much to remind us of our mortality, but to remind us that we were are ARE all “students” as well as “teachers”…the journey that someone else is on may be one we have already travelled, or visa versa.

My thanks, again, to Mrs. Beardsley and her legacy…none of us may ever know the wide circles our influence will travel.  Let us continue to learn, to love, to feel the pain and longing of others as if it were our own.

Each June (PRIDE month) I think about my friend, Michael.  Michael was a conductor, chorus master, lecturer, author, musicologist, accompanist, and my vocal coach when I performed opera.  He was also, more importantly, my friend.

I first met him when, as a very young singer, was making my professional debut in opera and he was assigned to me, by the company, as my “coach”.  He led me in the style of singing the small role that I had.  Despite our age difference, we immediately became fast friends.  He was much older than he looked, (we almost looked the same age) and so seemed like a “wunderkind”: a brilliant man with a quick wit and energy that made the rest of us look like slackers…and I’ve never been accused of being a “slacker”.

When he learned that I was getting my degree in Music Composition he insisted on hearing every piece I wrote and coming to each performance of my new works at the college I attended.  He would analyze each piece, not to judge or criticize, but to ask questions about my choices of phrases, keys, motives, themes and construction…all without ever SEEING the music on paper…just from what he had heard, once.  He made me think about my own compositions in ways I had never thought…He listened.  

He introduced me to his musical love, Richard Wagner.  He knew more about the composer than anyone I had ever met and was writing a book on his favorite composer…a commissioned work (a publisher paid him an advance to write it…that’s how good he was).

Mike and I would get together regularly, maybe once or twice a month, to eat, drink, and talk about music…both his and mine.  He would always have his calendar handy so that he could write down when my next concert was.  We continued to work together at the Opera Company.  And when Seattle Opera commissioned ME to compose a small touring opera for their company, I dedicated it to him…and he accompanied the opera on one of the three Pacific Northwest tours.

One day I called and left a message for him.  He never returned the call.  I called a couple more times over the next few weeks…until at last a female voice answered.  It was a mutual theatre friend of ours.  As I was obviously startled at her voice on his phone, in his apartment, she said, “Rick, didn’t you hear?  Michael is very sick, you know…SICK. He’s been in the hospital for the past three weeks.”

The way she emphasized the word, “sick” was the code back in the ‘80’s, in Seattle, for someone who had AIDS.  I was stunned.  Frankly, I’d forgotten he was a part of the LGBTQ (or what we just used to call, “gay”, community there.  What stunned me was that he didn’t share his illness with me, and we were good friends.

As we continued to talk, she said that he was embarrassed.  He didn’t want me, a “Christian friend”, to know that he was “sick”.  He was afraid that I would judge and that I would condemn…and most importantly, that I would leave.  Ironic, since because of HIS choice not to share this information with me I, in effect, DID abandon him when I could’ve been there.

I attended his funeral a few weeks later.  It was a doubly sad affair, for me, at least.  To this day I feel like I had no closure.  And I was angry.  Not at him, but at the notion that he believed any Christian would be filled with judgment and hate for him: one of the nicest, kindest, most generous people I had ever met…to this day.

I’m older now…maybe not wiser.  I am, in many ways, more cynical and bitter.  I understand that Jesus tells us, who Believe & Follow Him, that the world and sometimes the Church will “hate” us.  But what really hurts is to think the “world” would hate any “Christian” because many believe “Christians” themselves are filled with hate.  That’s not what Jesus teaches, on the contrary: we are to love our “brothers and sisters” (fellow followers) AND our enemies…I don’t do math, but I’m pretty sure that covers everyone.  So how could Michael think that I, whom he knew well, would judge him, would hate him, would abandon him?  Not because of anything I did, I hope, but perhaps because of what some other “Christian” had done to him, all in God’s name.

I stood on one side of that story long ago…now I stand in both worlds and see both sides.  There are those “Christians” whose FIRST response will always be reminding us of God’s judgment; careful to let us all know that if Jesus isn’t here in the flesh to judge the living and the dead, they will be happy to take up that job.  AND there are “Christians” who believe Jesus’ command to love is “conditional”.

But thankfully, though it’s sometimes difficult to see, there are those who understand that to know a person’s heart, read a person’s mind, and judge a person’s story is something that God and God alone has the power, and the responsibility, to do.  Our job is simple: love them all and let JESUS sort it out in the end.

I think about what would’ve happened with Michael had the reputation of “Christians” in the ‘80s been as the most caring and loving, the most compassionate and least judgmental of all humanity.  I try to bring closure to his death by imagining him telling me everything and me just hugging him in response…because he was my friend, and because Jesus is my King.

Central Christian Church in Anderson, Indiana could, and should, be known as the people who love like no one else.  We are the people who choose to treat everyone with love: those with whom we agree, and those with whom we don’t agree.  Then we stand aside and let the Spirit do the work of the Spirit.

We can, and WILL, be those who others see and say, “If being a CHRISTIAN means being like those people at Central, then count me in…when I was hungry, they fed me, when I was thirsty, they gave me something to drink…when I had AIDS and was dying, they cared for me, and loved me, without judgment or superiority.”

Each June (PRIDE MONTH) my heart remembers what my head may forget: that Michael is as unworthy as all of us to receive God’s love…and yet God loves Him as He loves us all. God loves us not because of who WE are, but because of who HE is.

If we belong to Jesus, how then should we live?

We are GOD’S people. Jesus is our KING. Our primary allegiance is to THE KINGDOM OF GOD.  With Jesus “breath of the Spirit” breathing through us, we can be people who love others as Jesus loves them – people who remember Jesus loved us, UNCONDITIONALLY, before we ever loved Him.

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.

One day when I was around 10-12 years old, my brother and I would play under a big apple tree while our grandmother worked in the nearby garden. It was in the month of May, and most of the time my brother and I were in school when Granny was in the garden. But this day was a Saturday, so we began playing under the apple tree. A humming noise caused us to look upward, and there hung a hornet’s nest covered with those buzzing bees. We shouted to our grandmother that there was a hornet’s nest in the tree, and she looked and saw it. “Don’t bother it” she yelled in return.

Temptation hit us anyway. Brashly confident in my ability to run fast, I took a stick and whacked the hornet’s nest. BIG MISTAKE! My speed in running…to an angry swarm of hornets…was a mere snail’s pace.

Needless to say, I had several stings on my face, neck, arms and legs. Although my grandmother quickly headed to the house for ointment to put on the stings, her first words were… (you guessed it!)..”Now what did I tell you? Did I not say, ‘leave it alone?’”

Some advice is pure wisdom born or knowledge and experience, and one would do well to listen…but I did not listen. The problem…I knew that my grandmother was right…” Leave that hornet’s nest alone.” I whacked it because I was overconfident that I could run fast enough to escape the consequences of poking that nest. So, what did I learn?

I learned that it is never wise to put one’s self-talk ahead of reasoned and experienced advice. To listen or not to listen? Perhaps the better question would be “WHO will I listen to?” I could listen to…or not listen to…my boisterous self-talk OR I could listen to my grandmother whom I knew better than to question her very practical advice.

Well, here is the rest of the story. The next day I did NOT have the option of staying home instead of going to Sunday School and worship. With a swollen eyelid and a “pump knot” on the back of my neck, I gladly told folks, “I got stung by hornets.” but if anyone asked, “was there a reason you got stung…?” I fell silent. At the time it was far better that the hornets be at fault than admit that it was me and my stupidity! Our God is gracious and forgiving. To listen or not to listen? When a pastor preached on the Prodigal Son and the Father’s love, he greeted people as they left the church, hearing favorable compliments, one parishioner, however, said, “I would not have given that young whippersnapper a feast” to which the minister said, “What would you have given him?” The reply: “Six years in prison!” Obviously, the parishioner would have preferred to punish the young man for the misdeeds after the prodigal had left home. But the reality remains: God loves us! To listen or not to listen is our prerogative.

The Old Testament story of Jonah is simple. God called him to go to a foreign country and preach, seeking persuade the people there to receive God’s love and redemption, and turn their lives around. But Jonah, with his long-held impressions of these people as “the worst of sinners”, could not believe that God would even entertain the idea of redeeming these “evil” people. To listen or not to listen? Jonah chose to think that these people were “not worthy” of receiving God’s love and discovering redemption. So, Jonah spent some time in the belly of a whale. When Jonah finally decided to listen to God rather than his personal prejudices and opinions, he was spewed out of the whale and went about fulfilling God’s call.

I suspect that being in a whale’s belly happens to all of us at times. It is incredible how much we choose to listen to ourselves and our thoughts. In so doing, we are in the whale’s belly, a place where we are totally alone, in a churning darkness, trapped by our own lies, and no way to escape the harm we do to ourselves. Only when we, like the Prodigal Son, come to our senses”, will we be cast out of the whale’s belly and embark on the path to which we are called.

To listen or not to listen? Choose wisely to whom you listen!