RICK’S BLOG

July 2025
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I am still my Father’s son. I carry so many parts of his personality that it’s impossible to escape his influence, even if I wanted to. My Dad knew no stranger, he was a “friend of the world”…this served him well in the US Army and the US Postal Service where he was a mail carrier. His letter-carrier days remind me of one of his odd quirks: he hadn’t always been quick with names, but he never forgot an address. I can remember times when he and I would be out and we’d run into someone who knew Dad and they’d say hi and chat. As that person moved on I’d ask Dad who it was and, more often than not, he would remember address but not their name. No matter, it was the “label” he couldn’t remember, not the person.

My parents were both lovers of music and I received the “art-gene” from both, but it is my father who sang, with a rich and deep baritone-bass voice that I can still hear, in my mind’s ear, singing in gospel quartets or as I would accompany him singing, “The Palms” on Palm Sunday at church. A great appreciator of marches, my Dad could listen to any and all marches and identify them by name because he’d played so many of them in the Army Marching Band…sometimes I’ll listen to John Phillip Sousa as I’m going to sleep (odd, but true)….and can identify by name most every JPS march I hear.

If I’m with my Dad’s family it is obvious in looks and mannerisms that I belong to the “clan”…of course, the same can be said when I’m with Mom’s family as well…hmmmm…I’m not adopted after all!

None of us can escape our family heritage, we carry with us what was given to us. It is the same with our Heavenly Father: we can deny it, we can run away from it, we can refuse to believe it…but the bottom line is we are our Father’s children and we carry His breath (“I will pour my spirit/breath on all people”), His features (“let us create humans in our image…”) and His name (“I will call you My own…”).

Some people have problems with this “father-image” thing because THEIR fathers were nothing to brag about…fortunately for many, like me, making the jump from “earthly father” to “Heavenly Father” isn’t all that long a trip. But for those who are still seeking for a “good” and “faithful” father, our Heavenly Father IS the REAL and TRUE Father, by which all other fathers are merely poor reflections. He is quick to train, quick to give wisdom, quick to protect and quick to love. All of His witnesses, the scripture, nature, the congregation, the spirit, His Son, will testify to His “Fatherly” care and love.

On this Fathers’ Day without him here, I remember my Dad. Whatever you may do to honor or love your earthly father, be sure to take some time to acknowledge the reality of your Heavenly Father and His thumb-print on your own life. Each of us has something to teach the other about God, because we are ALL created in His image and we ALL carry bits of His personality with us…celebrate that truth and you will truly be free to be who you are.

Mrs. G. has become one of my favorite teachers, in memory. I was seven or eight-years-old when I stepped into her class, at Jason Lee Elementary, she stole my “creative” heart. Everything we did that year woke my inner artist with the methods she used to teach. We wrote and bound books (I have two of them) to read to the First Graders, helping them to read. We made pottery, made butter, made bread, made bricks, learned how to weave, all this to while learning the early history of the Americas, and we wrote, produced, and performed plays that illustrated everything from math, to spelling, to English.

She was, and that class was, very formative for me…obviously building and discovering what are now so many parts of my life.

One day we took a “field trip”, one of my first. We traveled as a class to the “big kids school” (the Junior High School) to see a play. This was one of my first, up close. It was probably only as good as it could be; costumes and set were probably rudimentary…but for me, at that moment in time, it was an incredible and magic moment. After the show I went backstage and stood craning my neck to see all the backstage magic: sets, lights, props. One of the actors came up to me, a girl who played a princess (as I recall), and I asked her a million questions about the stage-craft…really more interested in the everything BEFORE the acting, at that point. Somewhere during the conversation she asked if I had come with a class of other kids. It was only then that I realized I had wandered off by myself backstage. I immediately panicked, knowing they would leave without me; the long walk back to school, the scolding from Mrs. G and worse, from my parents…or the ultimate…I’d be sent to the Principal!

I turned to quickly escape and there was Mrs G. She looked upset, but bent down and gave me a hug. She said she was worried and left the other kids on the bus to go ahead as she searched for me through the school, she took me back to the school in her car.

We spoke of it again, many, many years later when she and her husband ended up attending the church my parents attended. I was an adult, working as an actor, songwriter, church musician…pretty much all skills that were based in what I learned in her class, when I visited my folks and their congregation. I was grown, married, with kids by this point. It was a very happy reunion; she hadn’t changed a bit in my eyes. She had saved a couple of my books and gave them to me, and I asked her if she remembered that day at the Junior High Play. She said she did, that I was her “little lost sheep”. I then begged her to admit that I was her favorite pupil in all these years.

She said, “You are ALL my favorites…but at that time, YOU were the one in trouble, so I focused on you.”

“What man among you, who has 100 sheep and loses one of them, does not leave the 99 in the open field and go after the lost one until he finds it? When he has found it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders, and coming home, he calls his friends and neighbors together, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, because I have found my lost sheep!’ I tell you, in the same way, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous people who don’t need repentance.”
LUKE 15:4-7

Jesus’ shepherd loved ALL the sheep, but at that place and time there was ONE who needed his attention.

Mrs. G loved ALL her students, but at that place and time the person who needed her undivided attention was me. My life mattered to her, like the sheep matters to the shepherd. And that has made a great difference in my life.

(reposted June of each year, in honor of Michael)

Each June I think about my friend, Michael. Michael was a conductor, chorus master, lecturer, author, musicologist, accompanist & my vocal coach when I performed opera. He was also my good 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”; leading me in the method of singing the small role that I had. We 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 do a lot of stuff. When he learned that I was getting my degree in Music Composition he insisted on hearing every piece I wrote and came 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 payed 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…his and mine. He would always have his calendar 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.

Then 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 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, his one and only Christian friend, to know that he was “sick”. He was afraid that I would judge, that I would condemn…and most importantly, think that I would leave. Ironic, since he’s the one that did the leaving.

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.

I’m older now…maybe not wiser. I am, in many ways, more cynical and bitter. I understand that Jesus tells those 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 “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’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, but because of what some other “Christian” have done, 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 as long as Jesus isn’t here in the flesh to judge the living and the dead, they will be happy to take up that job. There are those “Christians” who think that Jesus’ command to love is conditional.

And yet, though it’s sometimes more difficult to see it, there are those who understand that to know a person’s heart, read a person’s mind, know 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 me 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 could, and should, be known as the people who love like no one else, accepting those with whom we agree and share our life-goals, as well as those we don’t. We can, and will, be the ones 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 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, and loves us all.

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

We can and should be God’s people; people who love others as Jesus loves them – people who remember that Jesus unconditionally loved us…BEFORE we loved Him.

It was March of 1983. I was living in Seattle, working as an actor and in my church when a golden opportunity arrived by boat…Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip were visiting! Now you know how much I love the Queen, so you know I had to go and catch a glimpse. One of the places they were visiting was THE SEATTLE CENTER; a cultural park in the center of town that was, originally, home to the WORLD’S FAIR of ’62. Since I performed and rehearsed there, I knew all the best, secret, parking spaces…so I made my way (with thousands of others) to that space, early on a cold day.

I ended up right on the rope along a trail that had been marked. I was thrilled to think I’d be seeing them that closely as they passed by.

I’d been there maybe 30 minutes, when someone gave me a tap on the shoulder. I turned around. Standing there were two impressive-looking gentlemen in “official dark suits and coats”, smiling, and with genuine British authority and accent, asked if I would come with them. The one speaking presented his I.D. and badge, and as he did I could see that he was, discretely, “packing”. He took me in a friendly but firm manner into the building while his buddy stood where I had been standing.

As I tried to question him about what was going on he quietly said, as we moved swiftly, he would take my back so I wouldn’t lose my place, if I could (once inside) show him some identification and answer a few questions. Baffled, I followed him…optimistically hoping he was clearing me for a special “tea” with the Queen for random people plucked from the crowd.

Nope.

Once inside I presented my drivers license and business card, he made a call and seemed satisfied. He apologized profusely…”doing his job” and all that, and then said, ”…but you must admit, the way you look might draw suspicion.”

What?!

Then I saw myself, through HIS eyes: lots of black, curly (yes, curly) hair and big mustache (some of you have seen the photos from then, if not, think of John Oates or Tony Orlando), mirrored sun glasses (it was the early 80s), black leather jacket, jeans, and boots…my normal “uniform.” But of course, to “007” I looked like a threat. Hmmm. He took me back to my place, to the bewilderment of the ever-swelling crowd, while his buddy (“006?”) stood discretely somewhere behind me…keeping an eye? And then, just a few moments later, they arrived.

Standing to my left was a little girl holding a bouquet of daffodils…she caught Her Majesty’s eye and here came BOTH the Queen and the Prince over to me! I could sense the tension of “006” behind me as the Queen stooped to speak to the little girl and accept the daffs.

Again, I’m not sure what I expected, but the person who stood right in front of me was small, no…tiny. If I had run into her any other place or time I might not have ever realized she was a Monarch. The Duke, on the other hand, was tall, gigantic, blonde, and every inch royalty…in any other place or time one wouldn’t have had to ask if he was royal.

Then it happened. As I was soaking it all in, Prince Philip, The Duke of Edinburgh, looked directly at me (“006: is having kittens at this point) and said something like, “Remarkable crowd, eh?” (or something close) and stuck out his hand. In a moment that seemed to last forever I took it, shook it, and then they both moved on. (When I called my mother and told her about the incident, she asked me not to wash my hand until she could touch it.)

What a moment in time. What a lesson in identity. Who are we, anyway?

British Secret Security saw me as someone I wasn’t.
The Queen & Duke were not what I expected.
My perceptions, and everyone elses, were false, or incomplete.

Are we who SOMEONE ELSE thinks we are? Are we defined by our TITLES, our jobs, spouses, wealth? Or, are we defined by place and time?

I believe we are ALL and NONE of that. ALL, because everything that is temporary in us “tempers” us. Who I was then, defined by age, place, and clothes, is not at all who I am now. Their Majesties were only a year into being grandparents…look at them now. But our “temporal” identities change, and that’s probably why we are always so insecure about “who we are”. That’s probably why the more insecure we are the more we look to others to define us, not always getting what we want. That’s why many posts on social media are really just Insecurities looking for affirmation.

But we are also NONE of those perceptions. The only identity that doesn’t change is our permanent one, our immortal one: the identity first given to us by our Creator.

Gods love FOR us, and knowledge OF us precedes our very creation. We were in his eye before we were in his hands. We are, and always will be, completely enough for God, perfect enough to be called His child, good enough to inherit a lifetime with Him as an heir, a Consort, a friend. HIS feeling for us don’t change.

I know this much about INVESTMENTS: I need to invest in something sure, and lasting: I should invest in who GOD thinks I am. What HE thinks and how HE feels about me takes precedent over what anyone else thinks…and My experience with Him is based on my choice to accept He is who He claims to be, and to live as I was designed to live; following His lead.

God walks beside us as we pass through each moment in our lives. He watches as we gain jobs and lose jobs, marry, have children, lose family, lose youth…and all the while He says, “…these are phases, these are “coverings”, these are temporary…the REAL you is being polished, trimmed, strengthened THROUGH those things, but they don’t define you.”

That moment in time, when I stood beside the Queen of England, her Prince Consort, a small girl with flowers, and a nervous British Secret Serviceman, was fleeting…but also eternal. Time stopped when we all stood there, none of us were the people everyone around us perceived. We were all MORE and LESS: it was simply a new grandmother chatting up a little girl with flowers, while her husband shook my hand and made small talk.

That scene may be repeated with the same cast one day in The Age-To-Come. In that place, all the temporary labels will be gone. All the perceptions others have of us will have faded to memory, and we will just be the children of God, in His garden, enjoying each other’s company and the company of our Father…from whom all blessing flow, from whom our true identity comes.

We were supposed to be in the New Orleans French Quarter a few weeks ago, once again. And I was thinking, although I’ve only seen a small part of this major city in southern Louisiana it is a place that appeals to my love for culture, music, history and great, great food!

Bourbon Street, and the Quarter (and surrounding neighborhoods), are interesting places, to say the least. During the day the sounds and sights are in contrast to the sounds and signs of life that engulfs you once the sun goes down. I can only imagine what it is like during Mardi Gras, having never experienced that.

As it is, there is a variety of live music playing from every open door and window as you leisurely stroll down the street, as the nightlife begins (that would be around 10pm!), but finding what I wanted to listen to has become somewhat difficult. Amazingly the “first love” of The Quarter; American Jazz, has come down to two clubs on Bourbon Street.

My favorite place is a club to relax and listen to some of the finest playing of jazz standards I have ever heard live, it was the MAISON BOURBON (which saw the apprenticeship of Harry Connick, Jr. for one of many musicians who began their careers in this historic watering hole) where an ensemble was playing to a very grateful group of people from all around the world (the table next to me was filled with folks speaking Russion, and a couple tables over, some Japanese tourists).

Jazz is an interesting style for musicians that requires a strange combination of musical virtuosity and the willingness to be imperfect; a theoretical mind and the ability to “swing” with the flow of the song. All the while improvising counter-melodies following the same harmonic pattern as the melody of the song. Not only does each instrument present a different tone and style of its own, but each also represents the nuances of each player. Each player has a “role” also: at different times an instrument may support the whole ensemble, staying low, staying soft, accentuating the rhythm…and then may, through the subtle direction of the band leader (who might be anyone in the band) take the lead and be the soloist for a while, as the other players support them.

The ensemble plays the same song, but each instrument takes harmonic, rhythmic and counter-melody choices to interpret the song freely.

However, it’s not a “free-for-all”, in fact it is only through constant playing together and practicing that a group would find a way to know each other’s styles and techniques, to be able to follow the breathing and singing patterns. But each player and instrument has its own role to play according to the way the instrument is constructed.

St. Francis’ prayer begins with the words, …make me an INSTRUMENT… What is it like to be an “instrument”? Perhaps the best illustration is exactly what I observed. To be an instrument used of (played by) God is to be something unique, something that by design may be different that the surrounding instruments. God may play me differently than you. There are times when you may be called to play “up front”, sounding the melody or improvising your own tune around the melody that the entire congregation of faith plays. Then there are times when you may be required to step back and support someone else in their solo or melody. All the while, the song continues, moves forward, rises and falls as each player shows their virtuosity and gifts. All of this is only possible when “practicing” together, learning each other’s rhythms and styles, getting used to working TOGETHER as one unit, while still presenting each other’s individual gifts.

For the rest of the world, observing and listening, it is a beautiful thing, not a cacophony of noise, but a seemingly intricate song familiar AND new at the same time…

…as beautiful as listening to five guys jam on Bourbon Street.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me bring love.
Where there is offence, let me bring pardon.
Where there is discord, let me bring union.
Where there is error, let me bring truth.
Where there is doubt, let me bring faith.
Where there is despair, let me bring hope.
Where there is darkness, let me bring your light.
Where there is sadness, let me bring joy.
O Master, let me not seek as much
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love,
for it is in giving that one receives,
it is in self-forgetting that one finds,
it is in pardoning that one is pardoned,
it is in dying that one is raised to eternal life.

During these last few months (when “travel” is defined as walking from room to room, and “getting out” defined as sitting on the porch and spying on the neighbors) I have spent so much time at home. I’ve cleaned, organized, and seen more of my house in a few weeks than I have in the two years I’ve lived here. In my “travels” around the condo, I am horrified to realize how many mirrors we have…in every room!

Mirrors aren’t my friend, at the best of times, and now it seems they are everywhere…lying to me.

Why do I say the mirror is “lying”?

I look in the mirror expecting to “see” and I can’t…I now have to “lean in” to shave! The GOOD SIDE of that is, just like a filter on a camera, some things look better, prettier, when “blurred up” a bit. YOU all look FANTASTIC! Christmas lights are a wonder, etc. But on the flip side, the mirror is telling me that I’m losing my eyesight to glaucoma…well, to be honest, the Eye Doctor is telling me that as well. But no matter WHAT the mirror says, I see perfectly…I KNOW that in my mind, and always will…even when they drag me, screaming obscenities, from the BMV.

I look in the mirror, expecting to see ME and instead I see my Dad. The GOOD SIDE of that is I think about my great Dad, I hear his voice, I remember some great times, and I miss him, and mourn him, in a healthy way…on the flip side, I know that I’m NOT as old as my Dad, nor will I ever be. No matter WHAT the mirror says, I AM 27 years old, and always will be. I’m not my Dad, I’m his son.

I look in the mirror and expect to see someone I know, someone who lives inside my head…but I often see a stranger. The mirror lies…that’s not me.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and see an awkward kid who wasn’t good at sports, only moderately doing well in school, unpopular and introverted…the mirror lies, that is no longer “me”.

Sometimes I look and see a failure…the mirror lies.

Sometimes I see a broken man…the mirror lies.

Unfortunately, what I’ve learned through a life of performing and recording is this: in this world, unedited mirrors, cameras, and recordings don’t lie, when it comes to what the world sees. They are brutal, they are raw, they are ruthless. They are also flat and shallow reflections, looking only on the outside of a person. They only see a shell. They also have the ability to trigger lies that we tell ourselves, and lies that the rest of the world has told us.

What I’ve learned as a Believer & Follower is: it’s important that one uses the CORRECT mirror, held by the RIGHT person.

There is one “mirror” that matters in my life, and it’s not one of the 3.5 million that are in my condo…it is my reflection in Jesus’ eyes. What is seen in this world, on this “physical plane”, is not who I really am…it’s not what is “real” in His eyes…the mirrors here really DO lie about who I truly am.

I am who my God says I am.
And He says I’m whole, not broken –
successful, not a failure –
confident, not awkward –
not a stranger, but HIS child: known, understood, accepted, & loved.

What HE sees, matters. He sees is my “forever self”, my “real self”, the “diamond hidden within the stone”. However, in a way, one of the “lies” I mentioned above is actually a TRUTH: If I choose to let let it be so, if I choose to let Him love me and lead me…

…I can be, am, and always will be, a reflection of my “Father.”

“For now we see indistinctly, as in a mirror, but then face to face.
Now I know in part, but then I will know fully, as I am fully known.”
I CORINTHIANS 13:12

IT WAS THE BEST OF DAYS, IT WAS THE WORST OF DAYS

(reposted from 2019)

What I have always called, “the best day/the worst day” actually began the night before.

It was when I was a sophomore, majoring in music performance, at the state university I attended right out of high school. On May 13th (one day before my birthday) I was practicing, after the usual dinner of carbs and soda, in a practice room in the Music Building. The rehearsal rooms were, by design, soundproof to the hallway and each other. But that night, there were a couple of people standing directly outside my practice room door, I could hear them talking as I was packing up to leave. I recognized one of the voices as a friend I was meeting for dinner the next day. I started to open the door to say “Hi”, when I heard her say…

“…remember, tomorrow night at 7pm. It’s a surprise for his Birthday, I’ll get him there by 7:30pm.”

She was throwing me a surprise Birthday party!

Since I had never had a surprise Birthday Party, I was excited. Even more so, since (as a control freak) I like to know about “surprises” before they happen. (I know, that defeats the purpose…what can I say?)

However, even with the knowledge of that good news, the next day didn’t start well. I had a “presentation” to give in my first class, which meant shirt and tie. I woke up late (as usual). I leapt out of my bed and sprinted down the hall to the showers for the fastest shower and shave I had ever done. Back to the dorm room and on with the white shirt, pants…I sat on the bed to slip on both my shoes while tying my tie. Rushing, and doing multiple things to be ready in 15 minutes, I jumped up from the bed where I was sitting – ready to step in front of the mirror and behold my glory – when suddenly, without any time to catch a breath or blink, I was painfully on my back, on the floor.

In my multitasking frenzy I had zipped the end of my tie into my pants. When I stood, I flipped myself on my back and ripped off the end of my tie. After breathing in, I remembered…

…I’m having a surprise party tonight!

OK, so things didn’t seem so bad. I tucked the end of the tie in my shirt, put on a jacket to cover the mangled end of my tie if it slipped out of it’s hiding place in my button-down. Then I grabbed my stack of books and raced to the cafeteria to grab a quick coffee (I was already addicted at this point in my life) before heading to my presentation…

…I’m having a surprise party tonight!

Once I arrived at the cafeteria, I placed my stack of books in a cubby downstairs and took two stairs at a time up to the second floor where the magic bean juice was dispensed. Once my coffee lid was secure I raced (carefully) down the stairs to discover…my books were missing.

Sure enough, someone had taken all my books (a thief who obviously enjoyed reading philosophy, music theory and opera, no doubt). Now I need to add at this point that one of the books was borrowed from my mother. It was one of her prized possessions and I promised her it would be safe, as I tucked it in my car on my way to school from my home, two hours away, some months before.

My first thought was…”I’m dead.”

My presentation notes, my books and my mother’s Christmas Book all gone, with no hope of return. Then I remembered…

…I’m having a surprise party tonight!

And with that thought, the problem was placed in a folder a little further back in my brain and my day brightened despite the shredded tie, my aching back, the stolen books and a presentation that I would have to make up “on the fly”. (a little play on words, considering how my tie got mangled).

The presentation was, miraculously, stunning. (I was carried around on the backs of my fellow students, as they cheered…at least that’s MY recollection). My back recovered (ahhh…youth!) and with every hour of the day, good or bad, in the back of my mind was the constant underscore of a party in my future.

I returned to my dorm room around 4pm to find my wall phone blinking with a message.

(Editor’s note: For the young people: a wall phone is like an iPHONE without the screen or camera. It is, if you can believe it, FASTENED to the wall; immovable. People call, but you don’t know who is calling until you answer. In the case of this particular phone, one could leave a message, and a little light would blink on the wall phone of the recipient…it was a brave new world.)

In any case, I listened to the message and called the number. It was the SECURITY OFFICE on campus.
“Are you missing a rucksack?” they asked.
Not totally certain at that point in my life what a “rucksack” was, I said, “No, but I AM missing some books.”
“Can you describe the books?”
“Well, one of them is big, red, and is titled, CHRISTMAS CAROLS FROM AROUND THE WORLD…inside is the name, Margery Baker.”
“You can come claim your rucksack before 5:30pm today.”

I went to CAMPUS SECURITY. Sure enough, there was a backpack (what Shirley in CAMPUS SECURITY called a “rucksack”) that I didn’t recognize. And after I showed her my campus ID she smiled and handed it to me. My books were inside, along with several other things. That’s right…whomever stole my books had lost their “rucksack”.
“Don’t you want it all?” Shirley asked.
I have to say, as tempted as I was by the idea of obtaining my thief’s stuff: an ANDY GIBB cassette, macramé key chain, WORLDS OF ADVANCED GEOMETRY book, and a corduroy cap, I refrained.

I returned to my dorm room in triumph, saying aloud, “God is good.” (Not realizing at the time, in my spiritual immaturity, that God would STILL be good, even if my books hadn’t been found…since “God, being good.” has little to do with me…but that’s another BLOG).

The party I had dreamed of all day finally came to pass, and it was wonderful. That party had colored my day; causing all that went wrong to be placed in priority after the knowledge of what was happening at the end of the day. It was like knowing that the destination was worth any trouble along the journey.

Even at that point in my spiritual immaturity I realized the Spirit had led me into a Truth that would stay with me: knowing what is at the end of the journey puts everything else in perspective.

Every-once-in-a-while I stand in awe as I look on the lives of the Children of God around me, especially my flock, my congregation. These people who suffer loss, sickness, and circumstances that might cripple anyone else, not only survive, but thrive. They live as if they know what lies at the end of the journey. They let all circumstances, good and bad, all moments, all people, roll over them, through them…with the knowledge that there’s a party at the end of the day.

For those of us who BELIEVE & FOLLOW: how would our experience of each day change, if we knew what was at the end of the journey?

Funny thing…we DO know.

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 62-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 knowlege 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 puca 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:

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.

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 the mid-west…or all the bourbon in Tennessee.

Again, I say what the Spirit teaches:
Every moment has its time.
Every person has their place.
Do not brush away either.
In doing so, you may brush away God’s wish for you to either ENJOY,
or BE the miracle.

I’ve learned quite a bit so far, in the five weeks of quarantine; things about others (hmmm) AND things about myself (double-hmmm). For instance, here are just a few caveats:

Sometimes I eat because I just want something to do.
I can throw my back out simply by sitting on the couch.
Learning new skills is exhausting for a 62-year-old.
Some people are really quite stupid.
Some people are really quite wonderful.
I’m glad I love my house AND my spouse.
(From watching NETFLIX British crime dramas) Why am I not living in England? (And a codicil) Of course, if I DID live there, I wouldn’t want to live in one of those small, quaint “one-pub” villages that has a murder every week!
Cats are not as happy their humans are home as dogs probably are.
TV Chefs have a different definition of, “Quick and easy” than I do.
I need to be friends with Chip & Jo Gaines, and…
I’ve learned what IS and what IS NOT “essential”.

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

Of course, “Essential” is looked at by every person in a subjective way; what seems essential for me may not be essential for you. For instance, because I’ve run out of hair product, and the product has doubled in price (let’s chat about price-gouging during a pandemic, sometime) I decided to buzz my hair off – my hair is not essential.

Bacon is.

But again, that’s MY subjective decision. I am thankful for leaders who have to wade through their constituents’ requests/whining to determine what is best for the community and not just for the “squeaky wheel”.

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

I have, as a minister, been busier than usual (yes, it even surprises me). Although, when chatting with my minister friends, they are all saying the same thing; they’ve never felt busier, nor have they been more tired at the end of the day. We have also come to the conclusion that this circumstance has been great for re-booting our minds, our doctrines, and our analyses of God, His people, and the world.

It has also caused us all to ask: what is “essential” for the Believer & Follower of Jesus?

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

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

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

A minor prophet, MICAH lived during the reign of three Judean kings and spoke specifically to them in their time and place. At one point, however, he addresses (with Providential authority) all humanity:
“Mankind (humanity), He has told you what is good and what it is the Lord (“YHWH”: self-Existent or Eternal; name of God) requires (requests/asks) of you: to act justly, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.” MICAH 6:8

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

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

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

When it comes to everyday living, however, it seems to be even simpler. Jesus was, and is, explicit in two places.
FIRST, in His description of the last days (MATTHEW 25:34-40) there is no talk of denominations, church attendance, sacraments, etc. It’s simple: “take care of those around you, love them, that’s how you love Me.”
SECOND, Jesus told His disciples plainly, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (JOHN 13:34-35)

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

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

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

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

LISTEN and/or READ

In May, in the year 1889 (10 years prior to the construction of our current sanctuary, and the year construction began on my Brown-Delaware house) one of my “heroes” passed away. His name is familiar enough that most American and British citizens would recognize it at once…and smile. But let me tell you a little about him, before I tell you his name.

As a Quaker, he was genuine, as a businessman, successful…and as a philanthropist, generous. As a Quaker, his beliefs didn’t allow him to enter a University or pursue a career in medicine or law…and a military career was obviously out of the question. He turned to business and philanthropy.

His love of animals moved him to form THE ANIMALS FRIEND SOCIETY, which then become the ROYAL SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS; the fore-runner of the American branch of the same.

What most people know of this man has nothing to do with his service to animals. He is, like all of us, multifaceted. Which reminds me once again…

…everyone has a story. Everyone has influence far beyond their time in this place. None of us can predict what effect we will have on others we may never see.

And so we have a responsibility. Jesus reminds us that every little thing we do, every smile, frown…every word (bad, good, flippant or thoughtful) matters. The famous and rich are not any different than the unknown and poor in this way. Each of us has a circle of influence; friends, family, acquaintances, enemies…and they have circles, and so on, and so on. And GOD holds us responsible for the people He has placed around us.

This is the miraculous way the world was created to work: when we follow through with our responsibilities to each other, WE are happier. Jesus knows what He’s doing by connecting our love for each other with our love for Him and our own sense of well-being and joy.

ONE life influences MANY lives, AND we are on this earth for a short time. Those two facts alone should remind us to enjoy every moment, by loving each other and by knowing that EVERYTHING we do will influence others. We are happy when we understand our reason for living.

Being famous or well-known, or wealthy, seems to have no bearing on influence of quality. After all, when was the last time your life was altered simply by holding a new-born, visiting someone in their last days, or simply being there? You see, even in those times we have influence.

I’ll bet my “hero” DID have some inkling THE ANIMAL FRIEND SOCIETY would have far-reaching implications…but I doubt that he, also a proprietor of a small confection business in England, had any idea the emulsification process he developed to make solid chocolate (thus creating the modern chocolate bar) would make the name of John CADBURY, famous.

You see, we still cannot foresee what the future holds, or the choreography of the great dance that God sets in place; what we may think has influence on others may in fact pass quickly away. That random smile, kindness, or worse, that harsh word or decision based on bad judgement, may reach beyond our lifetimes.

So, with that next CADBURY EGG, or chocolate bar, remember that our joy, our happiness, our full life, is dependent upon the little things that connect us to each other. Every word out of our mouths, every action from our hearts, has the potential to last far beyond our passing…

…and has the power to change more lives than we could reach in our own lifetimes.

Jesus says it best, “let your light shine.”

Now I’m going to have another CADBURY EGG and pet the cats.

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