Well, the tree is finally up, all my “gigs” but two have happened, some snacks have been snarfed…and I am finally, mid-December, able to think about Christmas. Now I’ve actually had Christmas music playing in my car since Halloween, and on my PC and iPhone (and on “ALEXA”) which has helped to helped to put me in the mood, when I have the time to sit and listen…music, and specifically, the music of Christmas is for me a wonderful tradition!

Oh, how the years have changed; where I used to pull out the LPs in the back of the shelf, now I “download” it all from that mysterious “cloud” out there.  But listening to the music, while enjoying decorations and wassail, takes me back to the years that Mom & Dad would pull out the old Christmas LP’s.

The first “album” I ever purchased was the FIRESTONE CHRISTMAS ALBUM WITH JULIE ANDREWS (remember those? One quarter with a fill-up?).  I saved my quarter and begged Dad to fill up at TEXACO (against his principles, as a Richfield Oil man).  For me, Christmas is not Christmas unless I’m listening to Julie belt out those Christmas songs with the London Symphony Orchestra, and arrangements by Andre Previn.  They ARE STILL beautiful recordings, but it’s the memories that the music recalls, more than anything else, the “tradition” that puts me in the Christmas mood.

Memories and traditions are strong motivators.  In churches, it’s memories of days-gone-by that sometimes determine how people feel about certain times, seasons, and events in the Church.  It’s the way a song reminds us of a moment in time, in the past, that makes us want to hear it again and again during worship. And it’s the memory of the “way we’ve always done it” that keeps people from accepting change also.

And yet, the rule of life is, everything changes…except God. Ministry and church work is a good example of that.  We sang out of a hymnal until some young guy named Bill Gaither started writing songs for us to sing…that weren’t IN our hymnal. (Of course, he’s been around long enough now that he IS in the hymnal).  How about the Pastor’s office?  I remember visiting the office of Pastor Bill, my Pastor when I was growing up in my hometown church.  Every wall of that office was a floor to ceiling shelf, filled with Bibles, commentaries, sermons, old and new.  His office was filled with two typewriters, a mimeograph machine, a couple of phones, etc.  You reached him by stopping by or calling the church office.  Today, most of our communication is by text, phone calls, etc.…which can, miraculously, be done anytime from anywhere.  I also have a wall filled with books, but can’t remember the last time I cracked one open, because MY office isn’t defined by the room in the church building, MY office is now my LAPTOP, my iPad and my iPhone…on those “devices” I have more than 15 Bible translations, 30 Commentaries, and various dictionaries, maps, etc. Wherever those electronic devices are, there is my office – and conversely, wherever I am, my office is with me.  I miss the tradition, but I love the convenience and efficiency.

I spent some time this year listening to those Julie Andrews recordings, and asking myself, “Do I love these songs because of the memories, because I still see myself pulling that LP out of its case and placing it on the HiFi…or because the music is beautiful in itself?”  The answer surprised me: “I love them FOR the memories AND because they are beautiful songs in themselves…I love that recording for BOTH reasons. 

And so, is tradition good? Or is it bad? 

Sometimes God wants us to re-visit our traditions just to affirm that they are GOOD traditions…AND sometimes He wants us to accept change, not just because it’s different and new, but because it might be what is needed at the time…to see HIM in a new way.  WE change, HE doesn’t.

I see “tradition” as comfort, but only when it doesn’t get in the way of learning, progress, and growth.  In worship, we use tradition to gain strength in the present, but when we start placing “tradition” in front of “relationship” then we have moved from “Christianity” to “Religion”, from “Relationship” to “Ritual” – and those are priorities out of whack.

I’ve always been a lover of tradition.  I love the songs JULIE ANDREWS sings on this, still my favorite Christmas album.  Now, I listen to the same songs I played on my “HiFi” on my iPhone, the “tradition” of the LP and it’s colorful “TEXACO” cover is gone, but the core of what started that tradition is still around…the music.

I LOVE our traditions at CENTRAL CHRISTIAN, but I earnestly, and humbly, pray that I will never let my “favorite things” get in the way of God’s agenda, His truth, and the relationship we have with or without any “religious tradition”.

Now…I hear Julie Andrew’s voice calling to me…I wish you and all you love a very Merry Christmas!

I am so looking forward to OPENING NIGHT tonight (at THE ALLEY THEATRE) of “A CHRISTMAS CAROL”.  This year, I’m playing the role of “Ebenezer Scrooge”, and my granddaughter, Harper, is playing the role of “Tiny Tim”. I mean, how could it get any better!?

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

The great question of the story for me is how can Scrooge, with all the resources his world can offer, completely miss the “joy” – while Tim Cratchit, sick, poor and facing a certain and early death, seems to not only understand, but “embodies” the “joy”?   

And what is that “joy of Christmas”?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless us, every one!” CHARLES DICKENS, “A CHRISTMAS CAROL”

Ahhh, Christmas Parties; one of the best things about the season, and after a “year of drought” they are somewhat back!  Any excuse to get together with friends simply to…” get together”.  Alright, there’s the food and drink, and that’s nice too, but really, how often do we take the time simply to BE with our friends?  Not often enough, it seems.

I always look forward to a few get-togethers during the season; various hosts and various types of parties and dinners, and various “gigs”.  In each case, through the years, I was invited and accepted the invitation.  It was simple.  I didn’t have to fill out a form, join a club, recite an incantation, it was simply an invitation from a friend.  Some parties I’ve attended have been popular and sometimes people have worked hard at getting invitations.  Some parties have been quiet, improvised, and spontaneous, some elaborate and well-planned months in advance.  But in all cases the people who attended were asked by the host and accepted the invitation.  They were invited because the host wanted them there.  They were invited because they were family. They attended because they accepted the invitation.

The chaos and tension between denominations and between believers is often about the discussion as to who is a part of the Kingdom of God, and who, exactly, will “go to heaven”.  It is often a contentious debate which requires PERSON A to do what they are commanded NOT to do (according to the scripture), and that is to pronounce judgment about PERSON B’s heart and behavior.  It is, for some, the bottom-line discussion which separates the sacred from the profane.  If PERSON A feels that PERSON B doesn’t fulfill the requirements (as PERSON A sees it) it doesn’t matter how good and fine PERSON B is, they are obviously NOT “going to Heaven” so do not deserve the love of other self-identified Christians.

Now, I’m not talking about harmful and destructive behavior, I’m talking about theological differences, or people “seeing God from a different angle”.  I’m talking about people who read the same Bible but come to different conclusions than another.  To pass judgment on those types of things requires a knowledge that no human has: the ability to read hearts.  All of this requires an authority that is not given to humans: the authority to judge, which is God’s place alone.

And yet it is so simple.  Who is a part of the Kingdom?  Who will be allowed to walk on the streets of gold?  God’s friends, who are given the invitation and accept.  It requires one to be a friend of God, not necessarily a friend of yours or mine.  It requires one to accept the invitation, given by God, not necessarily given by you or me.

It does NOT require one to decide about attending, based on who else will be there.

There IS going to be a party.  WHO will be there?  Those who are friends of God, those who have been invited by God…those who have accepted the invitation.  This season, let us assume that ALL have been invited; sinners, seekers, and saints…and treat them accordingly.  

After all, there are probably some guests at “the party” who may be surprised to see that YOU are attending as well. 

A BLOG by Pastor Ken Rickett

“I understand.” No matter how these two words are expressed, their power is unique and empowering when shared with sincerity and compassion. “I understand.” No two words are more resented than when uttered by a knucklehead who has no inkling of the depths of one’s hurt and pain or when callously said as if to say, “let’s change the subject.”

“I understand.” Sometimes these words are said to say, “I get it.” In Geometry class, more than once I asked a second time for an explanation before I could say, “I understand.”

“I understand.” Sometimes these words are not said aloud, but they reflect the ability of an intuitive person to “just know” what is going on without having to be told. For example, a husband and wife are friends with another couple, and they get together several times a year, but one day the news comes that their married friends have separated. The wife is shocked and in disbelief, but the husband, an intuitive person, says, “Honey, where have you been? I knew this split was coming several months ago!”

“I understand.” “Or I don’t understand!” Hard-of-hearing folks grasp a few words (but not all words) but their minds process those words in a way that they make sense and they say to themselves, “I understand” and respond after that nanosecond pause while they process what they heard. Or they tell themselves, “I don’t understand” and respond by saying “I didn’t catch that!” As a person who lives in this hard of hearing world, we often evaluate in our minds, not whether we actually heard what was said, but whether we UNDERSTOOD what was said. Only then can we respond without embarrassment.

“I understand.” When it comes to very recent history, there is no such thing as having a full understanding of all the dynamics and forces that are driving our culture, our society and our government. My great uncle, Dr. J. Winston Pearce, several years ago after his retirement as a seminary professor, wrote the history of Campbell University, located in Buies Creek, NC where he decided to live after retirement. When he was writing the book back in the 1970s, I visited him over a weekend. He was telling me about composing that book, and he said, “In my contract with the University to write this book, I insisted that a clause be included that stated that I could not be held accountable for any interpretation or summary of the recent history of the University.” When I asked, “Why?” His response was one that I should have known since I held a degree in history, namely, “recent history is too fluid, and too many factors that are influencing the decisions of the university or its student body may not be identified for some time.” Sometimes, it is wise to recognize limits to our ability to fully understand modern dynamics!

Sometimes we yearn to declare “I understand” but we are bewildered! Case in point: the decline of membership and activity in congregations across most denominations or Christian groups. All the data and possibilities that could give us some insight is the subject for another time. It is one thing to identify various factors at play in this decline, but more importantly, the question “how do we reverse this pattern?” still begs for an answer. Understanding all the dynamics that has driven this decline in church membership and activity does not imply that immediate solutions are viable and relevant. To understand does not always point to the means by which obstacles are overcome. But the Church of Jesus Christ is a Spiritual Body, and the Spirit moves and acts in mysterious ways.

“I understand.” Have you ever heard these words. “God’s salvation is so simple that even a child can understand it?” Is it true? A child may understand the simple acceptance of Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior as a profession of faith, but there is no way a child understands the struggles and difficulties that lie ahead.

When it comes to matters of faith, we are “overstating it” when we say, “I understand…my faith!” AH! Our God is constantly revealing Self, and in spiritual growth, we sometimes get to the point where we say, “I used to think, (this or that) but I have come to a deeper understanding!” I served four different churches as a summer Youth Director working with teenagers while I was in college and the seminary. Some of these teens were struggling…not with school…they were struggling because some of them were coping with parental divorce, or the death of a grandparent, or the impact of a careless few seconds while driving a car, or the news of a terminal illness to some family member or another church member.

For the first time in their lives, they were asking questions about the “Goodness of God” or “How come God allows bad things to happen to someone who tries to do the right thing?” or “What happens after death?” Like many parents, the Church was “overprotective” of its youth, and at times, as a summer Youth

Director, I was told that “teens need to be taught right from wrong, but also they must enjoy life.” Being naive, I mostly agreed, which I regret. Now, I know better. Children need to sing “Jesus Loves Me” but teenagers know all too well that life’s experiences require a much, much, much, broader and deeper grasp of God’s Love. Either they get a more solid theology as teenagers (namely, the

understanding of the Person and Nature of God as revealed in Jesus Christ through the Holy Spirit) or we will experience a Church much like today’s…in which our God is too small to deal with the vast range of human experiences in their earthly life.

“I understand” When it comes to GOD, it is not so much WHAT we now understand about GOD, it is whether we understand that GOD wants us to learn much, much more about GOD’S presence and activity in this ol’ world!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FIRST: JESUS is the host, not us. We are the guests.
SECOND: At the event will be familiar and non-familiar faces. The guests there all have their own stories, come from different places, with different packs to carry, with different journeys to travel, with different preferences – but we are connected by the same thing: THE HOST. JESUS has invited us. JESUS has prepared the event. JESUS presents what HE believes is best for all. (codicil: if every leader involved is doing what THEY are supposed to be doing as well)

And sometimes, even in a heavenly place like Central, we will share together in an experience that is not necessarily customized for us, personally, for an important reason:

Christianity is not a “solo event” it is a “community event”.  Christianity is not academic, it is action, it is shared and practiced on those around us….and…to quote Marge Vale (still the greatest theologian I’ve ever met): 

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

Give thanks for THE TABLE, provided by THE HOST…for all of us.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

If I attended a wedding and, sitting in the pew listening to the minister, heard and watched him turn to the couple and say, “The most important thing is communication, through the good and the bad, communication with your spouse is the most important thing.”

I would say a silent “Amen”.

But if I then heard and saw the minister continue by handing them a book and saying, “Here is a biography of your spouse.  Whenever you wish to find out what they’re thinking or how they are going to react, simply read this and you’ll know.  Everything you need to know about your spouse is right here.” I would…along with most everyone in the ceremony, wonder at the mental health of said minister.  And perhaps THEN someone wouldn’t be so silent.  Someone (probably NOT me) might stand and say, “Why don’t they just talk to each other…isn’t THAT a better way to get to know someone; a better way to communicate?”  Then, of course, there would be a general hubbub and the wedding would end in shambles with at least one member of the wedding party, along with the minister, crying and running off. 

But seriously, how ridiculous would it be if anyone told me or you that the best way to get to know someone we love, or communicate with someone, is to read about them?  Especially when they are there and can be DIRECTLY communicated with.  And yet, many Believers & Followers of Jesus do that exact thing.

I just heard someone (a faith-filled Believer & Follower) say they had so many questions and found themselves lost…so they searched the scripture for answers to their very specific questions.  Now hear me, this person is by all observances a very wonderful and strong person-of-faith…but part of me wanted to step in and say, “Why don’t you just ASK Him?”

Also hear me when I say, the Scripture is a Holy Book, it is sacred because of its place in our lives as Believers & Followers, it is a great place to find precedent for questions and answers about life. HOWEVER, Jesus says in the scripture (and Paul underscores what Jesus says) that we now have direct access to THE PERSON in this great BIOGRAPHY: God Himself.  All questions, all love, all thanks, could be directed PRIMARILY and DIRECTLY to Him.

The argument many Christians give, AGAINST this idea, is that you can’t trust that the voice you’re hearing is God’s – when your “filter” is “human” and “sinful”.  In other words, how would you know it’s God speaking and not just your own voice or imagination?

How do I know I’m not justifying my own agenda and giving God the credit?

The answer? Faith.

The theological argument that says I can’t trust that I’m hearing God speak is one I’d like to try on Moses, Elijah, King David, Joseph, Daniel, Paul…etc.  In other words, I’d like to hear from the WRITERS of the scripture about their process in hearing God.  Surely these guys were hearing through a human and sinful filter as well...how did they know, or did they, that God was speaking, and they weren’t just their own voices?

We, as Believers & Followers, don’t always make use of The Spirit like we should.  It is The Spirit, not the Scripture (according to Jesus) who leads us into all Truth.  It is through Jesus, not the Scripture, that we have access to the Great Throne.

The Scripture has purpose, it is Holy and Sacred, it is our primary text, as Believers & Followers, regarding who we are and who He is.  I also realize that the Spirit of Jesus the King will speak in any way we will listen, and for some that is through the scripture.  But that should not be our ONLY way to know God, and it should NEVER be an excuse for unexercised faith.  It should NEVER be an excuse for NOT Praying/speaking directly to the One who leads, teaches, provides, protects and loves us.  I know far too many people who would far rather use the scripture as a rule book and a “thrown brick” than actually have a real conversation with God, who is far more merciful and gracious than they are comfortable with. 

I know far too many people who use the scripture as a “Magic 8-Ball” because it’s easier than trusting their spiritual ears and eyes...because getting to know God in THAT way show them, they are (and have been) wrong…or worse yet, they may be compelled to CHANGE!

Personally, I don’t want to get to that final WEDDING FEAST myself (not sitting in the pew but standing beside the King) and find that I don’t even recognize His voice, as He holds my hand.  As for me, will put the Spirit’s voice first.  I choose to hear Jesus sing, and I want to know His Father…personally.

THE BLOG • by Pastor Ken Rickett

For years and years I lived in a parsonage that was located beside the church facility or across the street from it. When my boys were small, autumn outdoor decorations at our house meant several hay bales with a pile of gourds and a few pumpkins in front of hay. We usually had a shock of corn stalks provided by a farmer in the church…not really Halloween decor! Granted, we got lots of compliments on the autumn displays! For Halloween night we always made jack-o-lanterns lit by candles inside of them. We were very aware of the general public’s ambivalence (and a few church members, not always in my congregation) toward ministers who went “all out” for Halloween. We were quite “low key” with Halloween! As for skeletons…no hint of bones. 

But the years have rolled by. Now that I am retired, my yard is full of skeletons (nine of them), a “cemetery”, and a “Great Pumpkin” up in a tree serving as our sentry. Two of our skeletons are sword-fighting, two are witches kneeling over a black washpot with a cat skeleton lurking nearby, two are sitting in our swings (one is petting a dog skeleton), one tall skeleton holding a scythe stands by the mailbox, one “human” skeleton is walking a dog skeleton, and a child skeleton is riding a tricycle. Our front porch is wrapped in spider webs with several plastic spiders. Mind you, much of this display is lit with eerie lighting at night. All of this is a courtesy of one of our sons. The bones are on full display!

Let me be clear. Several of the congregations I served held “Trunk or Treat” events in which Halloween candies were distributed from the trunks of vehicles in the parking lot and children in the church and community would stroll by, holding out their bags for treats. Halloween was not ignored. Occasionally a car trunk would be decorated with a skeleton, bones of the dead.

Real skeletons have a tendency to last years, if not centuries, after death, but they eventually “go back to the earth.” I have taken the Big Y 700 DNA test, and not only does those results enable a person to identify the more recent ancestors, but sometimes, if a portion of an ancient skeleton survives and is discovered in an archeological dig, a specific gene may show up that you also share with this ancient skeleton.. This doesn’t mean that you are a direct descendant, rather it shows that somehow you share a common ancestor who could have lived thousands of years earlier. One surprising result of my DNA test revealed that I share a genetic marker with some ancient bones found by archaeologists. For example, I share a genetic marker identified in the DNA of skeletal remains found in Skara, Sweden, who lived in the Viking Age sometime between 900-1200 AD. I do not descend from this person, but we do share a common ancestor who lived centuries before 900 AD. Not only that, of persons worldwide who have taken the BIG Y DNA, as of this week I am one of only 109.persons who share this genetic marker with this Swedish Viking!

Another example, I share a genetic marker with the DNA taken from the skeletal remains dug in Pericel, Romania who lived around 1500 in the medieval age and it is likely that we both descend from a common ancestor who lived about 2050 BC (before Christ)! Bones do “talk” through DNA!

Nevertheless, it is not my intent to write a “Halloween” article (although it may be apt for the season), but rather to share some thoughts…. about skeletons. 

Family secrets, especially when something is awry, are described as “skeletons in the closet.” Yeah, bones that we don’t often hear about! In genealogy, I ran across a few skeletons! As a child and teenager, every spring my family went to a small cemetery of a few graves that was literally out in the forest. One person buried there was one of my great, great grandfathers who fought briefly for the Confederacy, deserted and came to Pendleton, Madison County, Indiana, where he lived briefly before joining the 8th Indiana. After the war, he married in Knox County, Indiana in 1868 and they settled in Evansville, Indiana. In 1879, he felt that it was safe to move back to the mountains of Western North Carolina. He died in 1900 and was buried in this small cemetery in the middle of nowhere. I have been to that grave at least 12-15 times. THEN while researching this family recently, I ran across a newspaper interview written a few decades ago in Kansas (ca. 1940s). The person interviewed was one of the sons of this great-great-grandfather, and this son had moved to Kansas as a young man.. My eyes popped out of my head! Here was a story I had never been told! My great-great-grandfather had been killed by a southern sympathizer in 1900, 35 years after the Civil War was over! But that wasn’t the real shock! That interview also stated that the sons and a few select family of this great-great-grandfather had “taken care of” the assailant! Now, there’s a “skeleton in the closet!”

In college, writing book reviews became a chore in some classes. I sometimes struggled with such assignments…. until I spoke privately with my English professor. When she said to me. “I just want the skeleton, not the flesh!”, the light came on! If a designated book was fiction, the professor wanted the plot. If the book was non-fiction such as an essay, then I needed to lay bare the basic argument, but if history, then the impact of the actual events became primary. I learned to write about bones. 

An entrepreneur opens a new business with a “skeleton crew”, meaning that the smaller number of employees will have to assume a variety of duties. Until the business strives, it is also on a “bare bones” budget. But the only bones that matter are the bones which God gives life (ZOE), Yeah, one of the most colorful stories in the Old Testament is Ezekiel’s vision of the Valley of Dry Bones (Ezek. 37). The Lord led Ezekiel to this valley in which Ezekiel walked “around and around”, awed by the immensity of bones that were “very, very dry.” These were very ancient bones scattered all over the valley. Just imagine! Human bodies have over 200 bones. When the Lord commanded Ezekiel to preach to the bones, each bone came together with its bones, and a mighty army of complete, but lifeless, skeletons filled the Valley. The poet James Weldon Johnson captured this image with the catchy song “Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones, dem bones gonna rise again!” 

The Lord commanded Ezekiel to preach a second sermon and each skeleton suddenly became covered in muscle and skin…but still lifeless. The Lord commanded Ezekiel to preach a third sermon, and the breath of life entered every skeleton, and they were living beings. What an army filled with new life! “Dem Bones” had arisen! Ezekiel was “preaching” to the Israelites in Babylonian exile. They lost hope and had become very dry. The belief in those days was that God was attached to the land, and once the Israelites were taken captive by the invading Babylonian army, they thought that God no longer favored them. Ezekiel’s vision about bones gave hope precisely because it pictured a God who was indeed with them…even in captivity! Even in an unknown and uncertain future! Even in eternity!

Frankly, Ezekiel’s vision was not a vision of individual persons rising to new life, rather Ezekiel spoke of the whole people of God, a mighty army, Israel, rising to new hope, to new awareness of their relationship with God, to new and deeper fulfillment as God’s people, and yes, to eternal life (ZOE) with God. This vision comes to complete fulfillment in the life, death, and resurrection of God’s Son, Jesus Christ. Our bones, as believers, will not dry out in a parched and isolated land, but shall be raised to new and everlasting life.

“Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones – dem bones gonna rise again!”

You know how sometimes you just need to have the right tool? When I was growing up, I remember my dad always seeking out specific tools, power and otherwise, to do specific work.  He loved woodworking, even later in life when he took up wood carving.  He was, for the most part, self-taught, and frustrated that he couldn’t do what he imagined – if he didn’t have the right tool.  When Christmas came around, he was easy to buy for – to say the least. 

Mom cooked and baked and was always seeking just the right utensil or mechanized kitchen wonder. Now I know it’s considered poor taste to buy mom something like a vacuum cleaner, or a blender, for Mothers’ Day or Christmas…as if we males thought of mom as exclusively a homemaker…but I have to say that MY mom (who worked for the government, outside the home as well) was hardly happier than when dad and I would find her that one specific “thing” she dearly wanted for the kitchen…admittedly, it was a two-way street, as dad and I thoroughly enjoyed whatever that “thing” helped mom create in our mid-century-modern kitchen.

The other day I needed something very specific to, solidly but carefully, fix some loosened trim inside the house.  I knew just the thing: a hammer I’d had for years.

This hammer is nicked, worn, it used to have bright red with gold paint on its handle.  It is hefty, feels strong but has a perfectly balanced weight in the hand.  The head of the hammer is still solid, but somewhat rounded over the years.  It is, for me, the perfect hammer…and for this job, it was the perfect thing.

I purchased a new hammer once, thinking that I should.  The handle was not wood, it was some man-made material.  It was smaller and didn’t feel as solid or comfortable.  I still have it, but it’s not the same.

I remember one Christmas dad and I were so pleased with ourselves about getting mom a new, “Avocado Green” blender to replace the large stainless steel one she had been using since the Truman Administration.  It was perfect: shiny, a little smaller, and that new trendy color so popular in the 70’s.  Mom was pleased…at first.  Then, she discovered it wasn’t so “perfect” as it seemed…and it broke down, not able to handle the greatness of mom’s cooking.  She went back to the old one…the one that did the work…the one that wasn’t “perfect” but “perfect” for her.

Like the hammer I have, newer didn’t necessarily mean better, or “perfect”. 

When I think of my hammer, and the story of the blender…I think of the word, “perfect”.  I think of the somewhat troublesome scripture from Matthew, one that has tripped up greater minds than mine: “Be perfect, therefore, as your Heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matt. 5:48). 

Again, there are subtleties in the ancient languages that sometimes translate into less-sophisticated words in English.  In English, in this time and place, “perfect” often means, “without flaw”.  When stewing over Matthew 5:48 I knew the only time I would ever be “without flaw” was after I passed from this Age into The-Age-To-Come.  So why does the scripture insist that I be “perfect” now?

Then I looked up the Greek word translated into our English, “perfect”.  The word is “teleios”, and it certainly does not mean, “without flaw”.   This glorious epiphany opened my mind and heart to the realization that God designed me for something, and when I do that something, I am “perfect”.

“Teleios” is defined as something that reaches “full maturity”, something that is “complete” – and the best definition I found was, “something or someone that behaves and works exactly as it was designed to do and be.”

Being what it is designed to be. Doing what it is designed to do. 

My mom’s “perfect” and new blender actually DIDN’T do what it was designed to do – therefore it wasn’t really “perfect”.  My hammer is far from “without flaw”, with its faded paint, and nicked head…but it is perfect for the job, it is perfectly balanced for my hand, it works well with me.

“Be exactly who you are created to be, just as your Heavenly Father is exactly who He is supposed to be.” – Perfectly suited, flaws and all.

‘The best thing about my hammer, aside from its “perfectness” for me?  It was my father’s.

What my Father GAVE TO me is “perfect” FOR me.