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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, this upcoming Sunday is what I call, “FERN SUNDAY” (an unofficial observance of my own; the Sunday before Palm Sunday.) Now, this is simply another “colorful” event I remember from my strange life; something to bring a smile and maybe provoke a thought or two during these weird times.  It’s a story of rebellion, of “church politics” and the seed of tradition…and it is set during LENT.

When I was a Freshman and Sophomore in College, I had my first actual “church job” that didn’t involve my home church.  I was hired by a very wealthy congregation to be one of four section leader/soloists for their aging choir.  This was the first congregation I belonged to that was not the church of my family, nor was it the denomination I had grown up with.  It was a very enlightening (in a good way) experience for me, and my own formation as a Believer & Follower.

Being one of the few “young” people (read: anyone under 60) at this large and established congregation I gravitated to the other few who were close in age…one was another paid member of the choir, and one was his girlfriend who also attended.  We would gather after worship and chat/mock/chill in the mammoth, two-story, parlor behind the chancel area.

This church building was beautiful.  A former synagogue/temple, it had been “converted” to a Christian worship space with magnificent carvings, paintings, stained-glass windows, and an epic pipe organ.  The choir sat in the back balcony with the organist, and so could observe everything.  The worship was traditional to the extreme and well done, but a little stiff and stodgy.  The people were warm, gracious, and very, very thankful for any youngsters that were in attendance, so we always got lots of love and food.

The congregation eased into LENT, a church observance I had NEVER experienced, so I paid attention to every fascinating detail of the “traditional mainline protestant” observance.

First off, the sanctuary was always filled with the most impressively large floral decorations I had ever seen in a sanctuary.  The first Sunday I sang in worship I had assumed there had been a wedding in the sanctuary the Saturday before, there was SO MUCH “flora” tucked into every conceivable place…but no, I quickly found out there was a “flower lady” who took great care each Saturday to deck the sanctuary like the Garden of Eden.  She had a well-known floral shop and used her buying power to procure everything we saw.  I honestly don’t know if she donated or charged the church, but I DO know she was a “force to be reckoned with” as she was in the choir, and dictated which color stoles the choir wore on which Sunday.  She appeared to be the “Martha Stewart” of the congregation.

In any case, LENT arrived, suddenly and shockingly.  The sanctuary was stripped of greenery AND flowers.  I stood amazed at how large the sanctuary actually was when there wasn’t a forest taking up much of the space.  Dark purple decked the pulpit, the lectern, the windows, and the walls…but even with all of that, the place was “bare Lenten bones”.

The Flower Lady was not a fan of LENT.  She complained, starting on Ash Wednesday and continuing throughout the 40-day observance, about the “sad music”, the “dull sermons”, and especially the “lack of beauty” (read: “flowers”).  The “youngsters” (me, and the other chosen few) for whom this congregation was new, appreciated the humor of her, probably more than the saints who had been attending since the founding of America.  So, when she wasn’t amused, they weren’t either.

It seems that finally, on the Sunday before PALM SUNDAY, she’d had it.  We walked into the sanctuary (the choir was one of the first there each Sunday) to what looked like the bar at the local “Holiday Inn” (not that I ever was ever THERE, but I’d seen pictures): it was wood, brass and ferns, ferns, ferns…everywhere.

Yes, it seems, without permission, she had taken it upon herself to ease the congregation back into the woodland glade that was the usual setting for us in the sanctuary.  The fact there were suddenly ferns in the sanctuary did not sit well with the Minister, the Board, or the other woman, who understood fully how LENT may be ruined for everyone if it wasn’t “plain and bare” up to PALM SUNDAY.  It began what turned into a yearly struggle (so I’m told, since I moved to Seattle the next year…but kept in touch.)

Oh, I didn’t tell you another important fact…her name was, appropriately, “Fern”.

And so, for me at least, the Sunday before PALM SUNDAY has always been “FERN SUNDAY”.  Here at CCC we have (well, I have) carried on that tradition and placed ferns out, to make sure we’re not all too shocked to worship on PALM SUNDAY when the palms are put out.

I don’t advocate stirring up trouble in church, especially by stamping on people’s traditions (unless moved to do so by the Spirit).  I also don’t advocate one person’s tastes and traditions over the traditions and tastes of the “community” (unless you’re the Pastor, then you can do whatever you want…just kidding).  But what amazes me most about this story is…that I’m telling it.  We put out ferns each Sunday before PALM SUNDAY…and all because of a woman who wouldn’t remember me from Adam, if she is still alive, which I doubt.  But here I am, changed, calling the Sunday before Palm Sunday “Fern Sunday” because of her, and something she did.

It reminds me of the power all of us must affect the lives around us, for better or worse.  Every word we say, every action we take, is heard, and observed…and in some cases, is absorbed.  Words are power, actions speak louder than words, and people are still the greatest influencers of other people.

Fern only impressed this great story on me, her actions and words are not something I aspire to…and, in a way, she taught me how NOT to speak or behave around others. But there are many other people whose words may have been fewer, and actions smaller who have influenced me even more:

The sixth-grade kid who watched my fourth-grade play and told me I needed to be on stage – I remembered that. 

The shoe salesmen who sold me my first pair of “big boy” shoes and called me “tiger” – I remembered that. 

The first person who looked me in the eye and said, “I love you.” – I remembered that.

…and I will always remember the five people who greeted me that first Sunday I stepped through the doors of Central Christian Church in June of 2006.

I hope and pray that we will emerge from LENT with a renewed and greater appreciation of each other’s smile and voice.  As we learn what is truly important, I hope we hear the Scripture’s words about the effect we have on one another – through our words, our prayers, and our love.

I’m a history buff…I really enjoy “historic trivia”, as you know: interesting but useless information.  Of course, I can’t seem to remember Birthdays, Anniversaries, my license plate number or important stuff like that…but let me read about Queen Victoria’s cousin’s dog and I’ll remember that till the day I die!

This month (March 4^th, to be exact) in 1861 Abraham Lincoln was inaugurated President of the United States. Now, we at Central are kind of connected to this event.  There is a newspaper, in our collection of historic items stored upstairs, on which the front page not only lists our “charter” but also has a schedule of the LINCOLN/DOUGLAS DEBATES in neighboring Illinois, in case anyone wanted to travel by train to get there.

For all the greatness the patina of time has put on Lincoln, I have some southern ancestors who considered Lincoln the “anti-Christ”, vilifying him for using scripture to condone aggression…as if that hadn’t been done before.  I’m not sure I agree with that side of my family, however, God’s name gets used to justify acts that are Godly…or sometimes, not.

Poor God.

I think He can take care of Himself, but truly…He gets blamed for some stupidly human things.

The scripture was used to argue that all planets revolved around the earth (including the sun) and anyone who taught differently was a heretic. The scripture has been (and in some places still IS) used to argue that the earth was flat, that Jews are evil, that anyone of dark skin doesn’t have a soul, that slavery is ordained by God, that women should not allowed to lead or speak in church…or anywhere else…and we all know many things the scripture is used to argue against these days.

Poor God.

In all of the effort to justify our own prejudices and keep the world around us from growing, from expanding, from changing…we use God as our excuse, and translate the Bible into our own “language”…we use His name in vain as we stamp it on all of our agendas with their conditions and clauses that keep people we don’t like at arms’ length.  It’s been happening for centuries, and we still do it…even, and sometimes especially, in the Church.

Part of the problem, I believe, is that most of us have a picture of God that is too small.  We have a box that we put Him in, and He won’t be kept in a box.  When He behaves beyond the definition that we have kept in our own minds and paradigms, we question whether that is really Him.  Is His grace really that large?  Is His Kingdom really that expansive?  Is His love really that unconditional?  Is His reality and His universe really that infinite?

Praise God.

The answer, of course, is to give God back His good name.  That’s what PRAISE is, it is “telling Him who He is”, not because HE needs to know, but because WE need to be reminded.  PRAISE gives Him back His good name.  PRAISE is to be done in front of other people.

PRAISE Him, in front of others, because many people erroneously believe that these statements are “Godly”, when they don’t come from His mouth:

“Grace is only afforded to those who go to church.”

“Love is only given to those who follow the rules.”

“Your heart might be in the right place, but if you make the wrong decision or make one too many mistakes, I won’t love you anymore.”

No! Our Father and His Son Jesus both say:

“My grace is sufficient.”

“God so loved THE WORLD…” and

“Humanity looks on the outside, but God looks on the heart.”

He is the God who LOVES us, individually, and yet doesn’t LABEL us into categories that erase our individual and unique natures.

The scripture is one witness to God.  There are many others: the congregation, the Spirit, God’s nature…for example.  And all these witnesses, combined, still don’t encompass the entirety of God’s being.  So who are WE to label HIM?  Who are WE to decide who He loves, or who He blesses?

Hopefully we, at Central, have gotten beyond the place where we use the scripture to do anything but find a foundation, a beginning, a connection with our Creator & Sustainer, and fills us with His own breath to show us (when we are able to see) His Kingdom on earth, as we follow Him.

Let us never misuse His words to argue our own agenda because we have chosen to be the judge of our fellow travelers on earth.

Let us never assume that God fits into our little box of godliness.

Let us always seek for the wonderful, the surprising, and the untamed God that truly allows us to learn for ourselves that the earth is a part of the wonderful universal dance HE put in place, and there is more to this life than we will ever know until we sit down to dinner in the age to come.

Let us celebrate the God who doesn’t put us “into a box” (as we do with Him, often), but removes our chains, calls us His, and sets us free…even when that freedom sometimes causes us to make bad decisions…He loves us because of who HE is, not who WE are.

For me, working in the theatre is almost the same as being involved with a church congregation: it’s a bunch of diverse people getting together with a variety of talents and gifts, and one single purpose.  Through the process of designing, planning, rehearsing, building, sewing, and creating, actors “bond” with one another and a new community is formed.  That’s one of the main reasons I love it and have for most of my adult life.

Theatre also feeds the process of teaching, through observing human nature.  Like I always say, God will speak to you in whatever way you’ll listen.  The theatre, and people involved, have (knowingly and unknowingly) taught me a lot about God, about life, and about love.

When I am rehearsing a show.  I am reminded of situations I’ve had before.  One example, one “epiphany”, presented itself to me.

Often, in theatre where volunteers are involved (people with lives outside of the theatre) someone will need to miss a rehearsal and someone else will need to fill in that night.  In one rehearsal I attended, the striking, tall, blonde leading lady with the golden voice was absent and the Assistant Director to the show was obliged to step in, script-in-hand, and sub for her.  The leading lady had a few love scenes, a couple of beautiful songs, and a dance – and the script consistently spoke of her character’s beauty, especially with the line, “She’s an elegant strain of music in the moonlight…with blonde hair”.  Now, the Assistant Director was a round, 55-ish man, balding with a huge mustache and beard…his “uniform” was sweatshirt and jeans.  And no one would want to hear him sing.

During one moment in the rehearsal, one of the actors, in character and speaking with his impeccable British accent, turned to him and said, “You’re the ugliest strain of music in the moonlight with blonde hair I’ve ever seen!”  EVERYONE, including the Assistant Director, laughed.  No one was hurt or offended.

I catalogued the moment.

Everyone laughed.  HE laughed.  Why?  Because it was obvious to everyone, including the Assistant Director in question, that he was neither a woman, tall, blonde, or exactly “beautiful”.  He wasn’t hurt.  Far from it – HE thought it was hilarious.  Everyone enjoyed the joke.  The Assistant Director thought it was funny because he KNEW he wasn’t an “elegant strain of music in the moonlight, with blonde hair.”

Instead, he KNEW who he was.

WORDS are power, and sometimes WORDS do hurt.  In my lifetime I’ve been hit with some ugly and ignorant words.  We’ve all heard the “sticks and stones” phrase, even though experience tells us words are powerful, with a power to be used for good or bad.  So how do we protect ourselves against words that hurt, opinions about us that are untrue?  Do we fight back? Well, we don’t need to.

But we do need to know who we are.  If someone told me I was an ugly tall blonde woman I’m not sure I would be angry, because the accusation is so ridiculous.  I know I’m not tall, blonde, or female.  They couldn’t hurt me with that “insult” because it is so far from who I actually am that it’s silly.

So, why are we hurt when someone says something unkind to us or about us that is clearly not true?  I believe there are a couple of reasons:

1. We are too concerned about what other people think about us, and
2. We are insecure in ourselves about who we really are and think we need validation from others,
to be spectacular. 

When a person decides God is who He says He is, and they realize that Jesus is His Son, and God-in-the-Flesh – and decide to follow Him, they become who HE says they are.  And God calls us His children.  This is the same God who spoke the word “light” and there was light.  When He speaks it…it is so.  He thinks you’re the most spectacular bit of stardust He has breathed life into – that it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.  Others don’t have the final say about your life, and neither do they sit on the throne of the universe.

But what about the loudest voice of all, your own?  The scripture assumes that we all love ourselves, sometimes. “Love your neighbor as yourself.” assumes that you love yourself.  We all know that isn’t always the case.  We are our own worst enemies when it comes to believing in our own significance. What is the answer?

Go back to point one; God decides your worth…but He also inhabits your very soul, because it is worthy of Him.  Or at least HE believes so. And, because we belong to Him, we assure that hurtful words never come out of OUR mouths.

When I know who I am and where my “significance” comes from, there isn’t a word anyone can say to penetrate that armor of love and truth, I cannot be permanently armed.  Of course, we need to be honest about our abilities and inabilities, not think TOO highly of ourselves, and not compare ourselves with others.  We must be able to accept unconditional (and it actually MEANS unconditional”) love.  And we must continually practice life within those parameters. It TAKES practice, it won’t happen all at once.

I thank both the theatre and the church for helping me grow my imagination, share my talents, and for speaking God’s Truth to me…in the language(s) I hear.  With that God-given imagination, and in a very “theatrical” way, I see Jesus at the bottom of that hill in Israel called “Mount of the Beatitudes”. In a moment He looks up at me; one lost man in the sea of thousands on the hill that day, and says, “You are the salt of the earth.  You are the light of the world”…

…and I realize, sometimes God has more faith in me than I do in Him. 

Be well, go shine, and remember who you are.

I don’t know if you’ve seen the “11 Seasons of Indiana” (here they are, for your information):

1. Winter
2. Fool’s Spring
3. Pot Hole Period
4. Second Winter
5. Spring of Deception/Pot Hole Season 2
6. Third Winter
7. Actual Spring/Pot Hole Season 3
8. Summer
9. False Autumn
10. Second Summer (1 Week)
11. Actual Autumn
    

 …but POTHOLE SEASON seems to hang on (like a bad cough) through the entire cycle of seasons in a year.

Potholes; the inevitable result of cold and moisture slowly, insidiously, working its way into the pavement and breaking it apart (there’s a sermon right there!). Some years ago I replaced not one, but TWO tires due to those “satanic land-mines of doom”.

However, since I do believe that all Spiritual Truths have a Physical Metaphor, I looked (as I was standing by the side of the road last year waiting for AAA) for a lesson in the pothole. Actually, I didn’t have to use a lot of imagination.  The picture was pretty clear.

POTHOLE SYMBOLISM – If one looks at a Pothole as the inevitable obstruction along the road of life – caused by whatever reason – then some metaphors immediately come to mind:

• Take Potholes seriously. If I hit one, it’s not just hole in the road, it could cause enough damage to hurt me, hurt YOU, AND make it impossible for me to get anywhere down the road.  Sometimes I don’t take “pitfalls” seriously enough.  Humans make mistakes. Life deals cards that are sometimes a good hand and sometimes not.  But if we don’t preparefor obstacles (before they happen), we don’t take the consequences seriously enough and are hit twice as hard.  Let’s not get so secure in our protection from God that we forget what life around us is like…and prepare for it.  Again, like the Apostle Paul says, “put on the whole armor…SO THAT WHEN THE DAY COMES…”

• I may not be able to prevent them, but I can sometimes avoid them. When it comes to poor choices or “walking close to the edge”, how many pitfalls in life could I avoid if I just avoided getting close?  Temptation not in my control is one thing (and, since we know Jesus was tempted, and Jesus didn’t sin, then temptation alone is not a sin), but what I call “tempting temptation”is MY responsibility completely.  The Apostle Paul tells us to avoid anything that would tangle us up and cause us to “lose the race”, that’s not always “sin”, it could be anything that slows us down from our primary objective.  When possible, avoid using the roads with potholes…WHEN YOU KNOW ABOUT THEM.

• Potholes are easier to see in the daylight. But some folks just don’t understand what the concept. Jesus and the teaching in the letters of Paul, John, and Peter remind us to “walk in the light”, so that we don’t stumble.  It seems obvious, but some of us tend to like the danger of living on the edge, pushing the boundaries and find ourselves walking (driving) in the dark…unable to see the approaching danger.  Stay in the light.

• Don’t travel too fast. There is a fine line between confidence and recklessness.  By not recognizing, ignoring, or not caring about the danger of obstacles/potholes I get complacent and start driving too fast.  Although I am personally guilty of driving my body and my life at reckless speeds sometimes, I preach (to myself and others) that to not be “in the moment” is to miss out on “God moments”.  I have a “mantra” I try to live up to, and one I preach/teach:

“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 a miracle.”

I will keep my eye on the ultimate goal, but I also need to consistently be aware of my current surroundings, not just because I’ll miss out on something good, but also so I can recognize obstacles as they approach and see them for what they are.

• Sometimes you’re the follower. Sometimes you’re the leader.  This year I found myself suddenly on a busy Indianapolis road that was pockmarked with deep potholes.  Having not driven on the road since Autumn I was unaware of the dangers and immediately got behind someone else who seemed to know the way better than I did.  I slowed when they slowed, I dodged when they dodged…it helped to have someone in the lead.  Later in the week I was driving to a notorious minor stretch of road with at least a dozen holes all together.  Behind me, and I mean RIGHT behind me, was a person not wanting to follow the speed limit (in Edgewood where the speed limit is the 11^thCommandment) and I came to the place, tapped my brakes and went into the left lane to avoid the dreaded war zone.  I looked in my back mirror and saw the car begin to take the opportunity to pass me on the right…they immediately hit the first hole and stopped (unhurt) and slowly followed me the rest of the way, a safer distance behind.  Sometimes you follow.  Sometimes you lead.

• It helps if you’ve traveled that road before. Through the obstacle courses that are “Pothole Season” in Indiana, there are a few places I have now come to know and can smoothly turn, swerve, and brake, like a strong slalom skier in the Winter Olympics. Because I must travel that road, and have been there before, I know where the pitfalls are…and I avoid them. I’ve heard so often, and sometimes say, “I wouldn’t wish what I went through on my worst enemy, but I wish everyone could be where I am now, on the other side.” Another reason to not brush off even the bad moments is that hitting a pot hole teaches us, strengthens us, not only for ourselves, but to be there for someone else who is traveling down the same road.
  

Pothole Season isn’t one of my favorite times of year in Indiana, but I CAN say that I’m stronger for it.   My prayer is that you avoid the damage done by unavoidable potholes in life, and that you may never be the cause of someone else’s obstacle in life.

Knowing that eventually the potholes will be patched, the roads will be smooth, and all will be well (if only for a short time, till the next winter) also helps me get through.  Another lesson of the season is our constant message and lesson:

“Everything will be OK in the end.  If it’s not OK, it’s not the end.”
FERNANDO SABINO

“Weeping may spend the night, but there is joy in the morning.”
PSALM 30:5b 

I can remember, in elementary school, seeing people on Ash Wednesday with ash on their foreheads and thinking (since it was generally just a few people) that they had bumped into something or accidentally gotten something wiped on them.  Some kids would be dismissed from lunch and come back (obviously from noon worship services) with ashes on their foreheads, embarrassed and a little reluctant to speak about what happened at noon.

When I moved to Seattle, as a college student, I remember being downtown on Ash Wednesday one year, and seeing a slick-looking businessman carrying his briefcase, off to a meeting somewhere…with a smear of an ashen cross on his forehead.  Somewhere behind him in a crowd was a young mother with two small children, each with an ashen cross.  There was an older Hispanic man and his wife, a Chinese woman, a young man of color working as a messenger on a bike, all with the ashen crosses that day.  And I saw, for the first time, the many faces of the children of God, all blessed with HIS cross on their foreheads.  People who didn’t know each other, and if they did, may not get along as we would hope but all of them under God’s care at that moment in time; the cross binding them together. We were all “singing the same song” in a variety of parts.  True BELIEVERS & FOLLOWERS sing together in harmony…not unison.  We may not see eye-to-eye…but we will be face-to-face with the one who created us all…from dust, covered by the cross that signifies the price paid for our admittance to the feast. 

At CENTRAL, we observe LENT (and ASH WEDNESDAY) in a big way. Where do the ashes we use at Central come from? The ashes we use are the ashes of the palms used the prior Palm Sunday; mixed with olive oil which is infused with frankincense and myrrh. Once the palms are burned, ground down and mixed, they are preserved. In fact, at Central, the ashes I’ve used for eighteen years (my Anniversary with Central Christian Church was this February 18^th), predate me by two to three ministers at least. I have only added some ashes, but they are combined with ashes from Palm Sundays past. The alabaster jar that holds Central’s ashes also holds the representation of at least three generations of parishioners, pastors, elders, deacons, and stories here in the heart of the heartland…and now, it’s all ash.

The palms that symbolize the crowds in Jerusalem wishing for and welcoming what they imagined was an “earthly” kingdom, are now dust – reminding us that the “earthly” kingdom is not what our King came to inaugurate – HIS Kingdom is “not FROM, or OF, this world”. HIS Kingdom doesn’t turn to ash. But our kingdoms, our countries, our homes, and our bodies…do. And WE are individually headed in that same direction. No matter what our diversity, no matter our likeness, we all travel to that location…dust. That knowledge alone should cause us to treat others with kindness, love, patience, and help. The knowledge of the shared destination of all our lives should cause us to live every moment on this earth, in this body, with intention. But does it?

This isn’t really bad news; it’s the way of physical life. But “Life” (with a capital “L”) isn’t defined by things that turn to ash. “Life”, according to what I believe and teach, transcends nations, communities, and human bodies. I believe our souls will land in new bodies that don’t turn to ash, in a land that always remains green, lush, diverse, and colorful – like the immortal life that will inhabit it with our King, Jesus.

My time at Central, in Anderson, and on this earth will one day be represented in the palm fronds I have burned and mixed with ashes from times before, and pastors who have served and moved on, along with their parishioners.  My soul has already started packing for another trip. The Kingdom of MY King has already been created.

So take the ashes and remember: we are all on the same physical journey, and on the way, offer your hand, your smile, and your love, because Jesus asks you to. Also, as different as we all may be, and no matter where we started – we may not all be “in the same boat”, but we are quite possibly all “in the same storm.”

Every moment has its time.
Every person has their place.
Don’t rush past either,
Or you may also brush aside
God’s desire for you to either
ENJOY or BE the miracle. 

If we do nothing else this Lenten Season…that would be enough, and it might change the world.

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 precedents 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 a 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 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, I will put the Spirit’s voice first.  I choose to hear Jesus sing, and I want to know His Father…personally.

I saw an interesting “post” on the internet a while back: “The 38 Most Haunting, Abandoned Places On Earth”.  I decided to scroll through these beautiful (and yes, haunting) photos of everything from abandoned asylums (creepy), to old subway stations, churches (one with the chairs still standing in rows and an infant’s coffin still in its place next to the altar).  All in all, each photo begged for a story.  Then I came to Photo number 22…an old ocean liner, wrecked, beached and rusted…but still somehow beautiful with the waves crashing near it.

Then I read the caption: “Wreck of the SS AMERICA – Fuerteventura, Canary Islands”.  The SS AMERICA was an American ocean-liner that, in the 50’s, sailed from New York to Europe and back, as part of the old “United States Lines”.

A few months after I was born (1958) my father returned to Frankfurt, Germany, where he was a part of the Army Band.  My mother and I stayed in Richland, Washington until the end of July 1959 when we boarded a train from Washington State to New York City…Pier 86 on West 46th Street, to be exact.  And there we boarded the SS AMERICA and sailed to Bremerhaven.  We sailed Tourist Class, sharing a stateroom with another mother and her young daughter.  My Mom kept a bit of the memorabilia and so I’ve always known about this ship, and our time aboard.  We sailed (as opposed to flying) because of my Mom’s fear of flying (she only flew once, that I know of, and that was our return trip to the States…because there was no room on the liner when we were to depart…they drugged her up).

It was on board this ship that I learned to walk…with the aid of the Cabin Steward and some of the crew.  This ship holds a special place in my life and my heart…now a shipwreck at the Canary Islands, home to fish and a beautiful photographer’s model of “haunted abandonment”.

We have recently sung: “Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?…”  And the question might be: What is the good of “remembering”, when those significant things of our past have become nothing but skeletons and memories? 

There IS some good to looking back, and like everything, there is some bad as well.  I’m a bit sad to see the hull of what was once a “majestic lady on the seas”, and one that had a place in MY history, abandoned and decaying.

On the other hand, God speaks of “memories” in terms of strengthening the present day.  And in those terms I can look on this photo and remember that Mom had a great time aboard, and I learned how to walk (undoubtedly fostering my love of cruising in the Caribbean).  I can thank God that we traveled alone across the country on train and then across the Atlantic without trouble, and in fact MADE new friends along the way.  I can thank God that the SS AMERICA gave 54 years of splendid service to families like mine.  There should be nothing bitter about those kinds of memories…and God understands that some things are best forgotten…and that is why He promises, when we ask, to forget the times we hurt Him, abandoned Him, made stupid, stupid mistakes, and turned our backs on Him and our birthrights.

God REMEMBERS His promises/covenants even when we forget, and He asks us to remember the times when He rescued, saved, healed, fought…for us. (EX 13:3…example) When we remember THOSE times, we can feel the power of faith surging back through our needy limbs.  God will never forget us or our His love for us (IS 49:14-16).

How then should WE live?  The answer is obvious and simple.  (PHIL 4:8) Don’t expect to be happy if you constantly think of the “sad” and the ”bad”. Don’t expect to be at peace if you dwell on discontent.  “Think on…” and remember the things that give you strength TODAY.  Life moves on, the universe is expanding daily, people change…God, in His own way, has “moved forward” so that He can meet us where those things that are new to us exist.  This is a new year, and yet ANOTHER CHANCE to turn and walk in a different direction…let the good things of the past empower you to walk forward.

The flip side, and the difficult side, is to do with ourselves what God does by forgiving our imperfections and sin (PS 103:12).  God forgives and forgets…sometimes we don’t.  We don’t forgive others and more often, we don’t forgive ourselves.  Remembering all of the wrong things one did, all of the mistakes one made makes one depressed, cynical and angry…often filled and motivated by regret.  This is where the new year raises her head again…turn around, walk forward…you are not who you were, and YOU and GOD define how your past dictates your future…God won’t force the issue.  Don’t expect your sins and indiscretions to be forgiven if you don’t ask Him, and don’t expect God to take care of any “repair work” that you need to make in your relationships with others, just because HE’s forgiven you.  But you CAN move forward.

No one sails on the SS AMERICA now…but it is obvious to me that many people go nowhere because they’ve “stayed aboard the shipwreck”…thinking their past defines their future.

Whatever it is in 2025 that you need to do…do it.  God has promised His power, through the “Breath of God” to strengthen you in any Godly purpose…and His people are standing beside you almost every week, at least.  And in case you need a little reminder of exactly what CAN be done…remember the good things, the true things, the beautiful things that God has already done.

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 forerunner 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 the influence of quality.  After all, when was the last time your life was altered simply by holding a newborn, 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 box of chocolates, “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.” 

John 5: 1-9

Some time later came one of the Jewish feast days and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. There is in Jerusalem, near the Sheep-Gate, a pool surrounded by five arches, which has the Hebrew name of Bethzatha. Under these arches a great many sick people were in the habit of lying; some of them were blind, some lame, and some had withered limbs. (They used to wait there for the “moving of water”, for at certain times an angel used to come down into the pool and disturb the water, and then the first person who stepped into the water after the disturbance would be healed of whatever he was suffering from.) One particular had been there ill for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there on his back–knowing he had been like that for a long time–he said to him,
“Do you want to get well again?”

“Sir,” replied the sick man, “I just haven’t got anybody to put me into the pool when the water is all stirred up. While I am trying to get there somebody else gets down into it first.”

“Get up,” said Jesus, “pick up your bed and walk!”

At once the man recovered, picked up his bed and walked.

—J B Phillips The New Testament in Modern English

 In 1982 Dennis Jones and I co-authored a 212-page history of First Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), Richlands, NC, as a part of the congregation’s centennial celebration. It was not an easy undertaking. You see, 47 years of board and congregational minutes were missing! How in the world did we fill in this huge gap? Writing this book was every bit as difficult as we feared and yet far easier than we could have ever hoped. Difficult because we struggled at first to get written, documented data. Difficult because only a few older members were still living who were active in the church in the early years of the missing minutes. Difficult because a few families had left the congregation in the late 1960s and formed an independent congregation; thus, a loving, generous spirit in telling that story was essential. And easy because we discovered that a resource or two turned out to be a gold mine of considerable information.

How DID we fill this gap? First, Charles Crossfield Ware (1886-1974) was General Secretary (now called Regional Minister) of the North Carolina congregations in the Christian Church (D.O.C.) from 1915-1952. A historian and prolific writer and gatherer of data from congregations, Ware wrote books about Disciples congregations and articles (such as editing the NC Christian, a monthly newsletter, very similar to the Indiana Christian), filing letters and notes of historical interest, etc., proved to be invaluable. Ware had included in the newsletter such items as dates of baptism and the names of those baptized, significant events in the life of various congregations including Richlands congregation, the installation, and resignations/retirements of ministers across the Region, and ordinations of new ministers, some of whom were from the Richlands church. After Charles C. Ware retired in 1952, he spent the next two decades building up a Discipline collection of NC congregations that is now housed at Barton College in Wilson, NC.

Secondly, members within the church (or their parents) had saved newspaper articles about church events with the dates written on them, or they had an old bulletin or two, or they had old pictures of a Sunday School class or a CWF or CMF meeting or event. Since the church building had been built several decades earlier, older pictures showed some of the decor of the fellowship hall or sanctuary or classrooms. In short, the missing 47 years were filled by resources from people! AND filled with an incredible number of stories about the mission and activities of the church during those years of missing minutes. From Charles Ware to the Regional Minister Charles Dietze who was serving at the time of the writing of this book, the present and former members, even some of the townspeople shared their stories, and their emotions, and their joy.

How are the missing gaps filled in our lives? Every one of us has surely “missed out” on something! Having lost my parents when I was young, I was reared by maternal grandparents and deeply loved, filling the gap. The wider families of my mother and father filled the gap. And when I was grown, they were able to “let me go” and fulfill my own dreams and hopes through college, seminary, career, and certainly my own family. The people in my home church filled the gap. They recognized my gifts and abilities. They offered tons of encouragement. They gave me some leadership roles such as a committee membership and teaching a Sunday School class. Thus, people filled the gap! They always do. And I benefited from their ministry of care and nurture. And I was encouraged to minister by helping others to fill in the gaps!

The Gospel is Good News because the power of God fills missing gaps! A man waited for 38 years beside the pool of Bethsaida to be healed of his crippled legs. It was said that the first person in the pool after it bubbled up (which was occasional) would be healed; but because the crippled man could not move quickly, someone else beat him into the pool. He persisted in hope. Then one day Jesus came and that which was missing was restored. Jesus ministered to the man with a deep need.

In a real sense the ministry of Jesus was spent “filling the missing gaps” in the lives of people. From the days in which Jesus called the twelve to “follow me,” Jesus seemed to be driven to fill in the missing gaps in people’s lives, and for his three-year ministry, the 12 disciples were trained for the mission of filling “missing gaps.” Such, however, was a mission that would not be grasped until after the resurrection and ascension of Jesus. And then, wow, did the disciples preach, teach, heal, and guide as they filled the missing gaps!

In the Book of Acts, telling of the beginning and early years of the Church, Phillip meets an Ethiopian eunuch who has not heard the story of God’s salvation in Jesus Christ, crucified and resurrected and present through the Holy Spirit. There was a missing gap here and Phillip told the story. In fact, in many places in scripture, this story of Jesus was told and people became followers because there was a missing gap in their lives. Crowds followed Jesus because they sensed that Jesus could fill an emptiness, a gap in life. This “gap” can be best described as having “a yearning for the Holy and Merciful God.” In his condemnation of the religious elites of his day, Jesus was saying to them, “You say you know God and His way, but you are missing something. . .you are missing the deepest part of God. . .and that deepest part is God’s mercy and love.” 

Run that thinking out. Christianity grows because people have chosen to follow Jesus, and in so doing, they fill the missing gaps in their lives with the presence of the Living Christ as revealed through the Holy Spirit. AND we minister to each other as Christians in an effort to fill missing gaps—gaps not due to unbelief, but gaps due to the pain and anguish and imperfections of life. . . or gaps that yearn to be filled with more teachings that enable us to see the magnificence and majesty of a faithful life.. . or gaps the need to be filled with the sheer, raw joy of “being there” for a person in pain, whether it be emotional or physical pain.

Of course, the 47 years of history at that church in which I co-authored its history was NOT missing. It was there. Dennis Jones and I realized that there were thousands of other stories that we did not hear about or read about- – -stories of how the faithful people of that congregation filled the gaps of each other and the community and world. You see, missing minutes of board meetings is not the same as the mission of the congregation—which was never missing. If the truth be told, we live our lives with a sense of “something missing.” And it is amazing how our faith and our oneness as a people of God continually fill the missing gaps as we seek, learn, fellowship and worship together. And yes, we live our lives unaware that something may be missing, and this is when a brother or sister shares something with us in love. As a minister for 43 years, there were a few situations and circumstances in which I was unaware of something missing, but no one dared to share it with me. (Most of the time, I heard my mistakes shouted from the rooftops). Boy, do I ever wish that people would have told me, “Ken, so-and-so took what you said/did or didn’t say/didn’t do in a wrong way” OR “I don’t think the Bible Study class got your intended point” or “I don’t think the board grasped the significance of what you were explaining.” Jesus did not talk about “wholeness” aimlessly; but rather Jesus lifted “wholeness” as a spiritual blessing that comes to those whose “missing gaps” are filled. Ministry is “filling the gaps.”

Maybe the Church of the 21st Century can best understand its calling, its role, its ministry as “filling in the gaps.” Sounds like an empowering image to me!