When I travel, which I love to do and am doing now, I am constantly surrounded by the beautiful tapestry of life: on all sides, families and children.  As I age, I have a “love/hate” relationship with crowds.  I like to watch people, especially from other cultures, all together, vacationing: multiple languages, ages…I find that entertaining.  On the other hand, especially the older I get, I am not a fan of crowds.  I still like to be around people, but more and more I like to be on the outside looking in, rather than the middle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I pull away.

I am surrounded by the crowd of strangers.

I feel danger.

I feel abandoned.

I cry out…

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

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

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

Another “trip around the sun” is coming up: and I am continually “feeling” my age.  Now that I’m officially on the “other side of the hill” birthday gifts are intangible moments, birthday decorations are the wrinkles and grey hair that bear witness to many of those past, intangible and full moments…and I am filled with gratitude.

I am happy to know that I am reaching the point where I have lived longer than I will live in the future years (unless I live to be 132 years old).  Having never been fearful of death, I don’t, at this point, have any desire to live longer than I should…and in fact, am happier to be the age I am than at any other time in my life.

God HAS been, IS now, and WILL be a friend to me, He has gone the “extra mile” for me and continues to shock me with His graciousness …as little as I have done for Him in return. To be a BELIEVER & FOLLOWER on the “other-side-of-the-hill” means, at times, to look back, to observe God and oneself from a distance, and continue to learn.

I climbed up the hill, aiming to reach the summit quickly…by travelling straight for it. In my rush to reach the pinnacle (to “grow up”) I missed some beautiful sights.  Sure, I had the strength then to grab an outcropping of rock when I needed to and pull myself up.  Yes, I could look back at the sunset of each day and see what I had accomplished.  Of course, it’s good to have goals, make a plan, and work the plan, but along the way I MAY have passed up times I didn’t need to move so quickly.  In my effort to go, go, go…I might have missed the goal completely sometimes.  God’s request that I love Him is played out by loving those He has placed in my path – and, unfortunately, sometimes the path was more important than those who took up space on the path.

I find, now that I’m on the other side going down instead of up, I “zigzag” (partially to keep from falling down!)  Now the path is just as steep, but I am going down, not up.  I’ve learned, there is more to be seen and experienced by not racing down the hill.  And the truth is, I’ll reach the bottom when the time is right. Till then, I should enjoy the path and the people on it – not going straight down but covering the entire width of the hill and all it has to offer.

When I climbed UP, my goal was the summit. Searching for a “mountain-top” experience was often the goal of my younger self.  Now I realize that those experiences happen, are serendipitous and not always a result of planning. I’ve learned to accept them and enjoy them when they come.  Now I see the valley below and realize that every part of THE HILL has something to offer.  The path is God’s creation, He has gone ahead of me, and it is cleared and made especially for me. Who am I to deviate from His map?  Getting PAST the summit is the actual goal…partially because the air is so thin at the top, no one could stay there for long.

As my younger self ascended the hill, I had no choice but to empty my pack of things that were too heavy. Now that I am over the summit, I’m finding I do not even miss the things I threw out of my pack – and so, I only hold on to the things that might be helpful to someone else along the way.  I tend to be a hoarder, in part because the things I collect around me have meaning and are memory-holders.  But, in truth, my age has brought me to the stage telling me how little I need.  Also, my joy, my life, my journey, is more fulfilling (once again) when I pay attention to the people and places on the path – it’s good to have things with you that connect you with those people and places.  Connection with others is the important thing.

Now that I am closer to valley, I can see “a gate” at the bottom of the hill. I’ve always known “the gate” was there, but now (like everyone on this journey of life) I SEE it more clearly. Truthfully, I can see that the path contains a series of hills, of summits and valleys, but I didn’t enjoy the wisdom of that until I got “over-the-hill”.  And as I had been climbing up, my thought was that my life would end once I got TO the summit…but now that I am OVER the summit, I’m glad to see that there is still more, and there will be more, forever more (“The road goes ever on…” J.R.R. Tolkien) – especially once I walk THROUGH “the gate” to the garden…in the valley.

I am thankful to everyone whose paths have crossed mine, who are walking the path with me, who sometimes carry my pack for me, who guard me when I sleep, and mend me when I fall.  To the ones who travel with me, by blood or by choice, I am who I am because of you and your love.  And to The Great Shepherd who leads and asks me to follow, I say: I am just beginning to make out the melody You’ve been singing, and I look forward to a continuing journey filled with many more years on this path, and unfathomable moments beyond the gate. 

A BLOG by Rick Vale

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE BLOG by Pastor Ken Rickett: “ENIGMAS”

Not only do I have an infatuation with large jigsaw puzzles (1000-3000 pieces), but I also spend hours in puzzle books which have a variety of Sudoku, crossword, brick by brick, syl-la-cros-tic, anagram magic squares, word math, escalators, & starspell puzzles, among others.

Enigmatic! You bet! Open a box of a 3000-piece jigsaw puzzle and pick out one piece and ask yourself, “exactly where will this one piece fit when the puzzle is finished?” Realize that you are asking the same question for each of the 3000 pieces! And puzzle books are often hard to solve; the cryptic clues are difficult to figure out, and once in a blue moon, I may barely attempt a puzzle on any given page and in frustration, give up long before I can solve it!

AH…BUT I like challenges. Whether it be family members or friends, whether it be parishioners (when I pastored congregations) or a custom or tradition, there is something enigmatic about people and

events…something mysterious, not understood nor grasped, something that defies explanation. As a husband and as a parent, there are some instances in which one’s own family can be enigmatic, unreadable, not acting in accord with past behavior. This

explains why a surprise birthday party is not usually a surprise…enigmatic behavior around the time of an approaching birthday gives away the secret! And enigmatic behavior in family members may give no clues to the reason(s) for the display of strong emotions (anger, tears, etc.) nor the deepening despair that is expressed by words or by reaction.   

There are times that even those we deeply love are mysteries to us. Most of us have experienced more than a few times in which we had to solve an enigma (puzzling) among family members. I had a family member who lived into her 80s, never married and lived with her parents (my grandparents)…talk about an enigmatic person! Not only was she socially withdrawn, a sharp contrast to her outgoing sisters. She was unable to get a job outside the home. Much of her conversation was a repeat of something just said. Yet, she went to the town library every two weeks for decades and decades until her death, checking out two to four books and reading them. But she could not tell any of us the plot of those books although the family felt that she was fully aware of the storylines. When she was in a nursing home briefly before her passing, the family learned that she suffered all her life from a type of dementia in which her brain could not process and express thoughts for communication. However unfortunate this diagnosis, the enigma, the riddle of her unusual behavior, became solved. 

The world is full of enigmas. For example, what happened to the Malaysian flight MH170 that disappeared without a trace over the ocean a few years ago? What really led to the disappearance of the ancient Mayan dynasty in Central America? What is “driving” the disconnect between today’s church and the people of the land? (If

we knew the answer to this puzzle, positive and effective steps would have been undertaken years ago!) Enigmas give rise to legitimate theories as well as conspiracies as we cope with the vastness of what is not known nor understood.

Enigma, ainigma in Greek (noun), comes from ainissesthai, “to speak in riddles” and refers to things as well as people as “riddles almost impossible to understand.” Does this word appear in Scripture? Yes, but only once. I Corinthians 13:12 (paraphrased) “we see through a mirror but darkly.’ The Greek word ainigma is translated: “darkly” or “dimly.” referring to our human inability to see and to understand the vastness of what God has not yet revealed to us about God-Self and the impossibility of any of us to fully grasp “the image of God within us.”

WHEW! Maybe a bit more explanation will help. In Greek, ainigma has the connotation of being impossible to understand in this earthy life. In this one instance, enigma is NOT a mystery, that is, it is not something hidden but may be found by diligent searching. God still has not fully revealed God-Self and will not be fully revealed until we gather in God’s eternal community. AND, likewise, we, although we are living in Christ, will not see the fullness of the Image of God in us until we enter the Kingdom of Heaven. These things are seen only dimly (darkly as if no light can fully illuminate it). 

So what are we to grasp in this life, even if not perfectly? Faith, hope, and love, and the greatest of these is love. 

The working of God’s Spirit promised by Jesus is enigmatic. The Spirit is never fully known, and neither is God, who is constantly revealing who He is. So, we spend a lifetime seeking to know God and His Love as revealed in Christ. O, the puzzles that confront us who would dare to follow God, revealed in Christ through the Holy Spirit!

Has it ever occurred to you that without enigmas, we would have no reason to live by faith, hope, and love?

When I was a High School student, I played percussion in the local symphony orchestra and the High School band/orchestra.  In the band, I played a variety of drums, but mostly “triples” and we played through most of every song, if we had measures of rests, it was usually not for more than 4 to 8 measures of counting.

However, when playing symphonic music even with the variety of instruments that a percussionist is playing during one piece, the percussionist spends a lot of time counting empty measures.  Sometimes the percussionist may play a crash cymbal at the crescendo of a phrase and not play again for 200 or more measures, then play one or two strikes on the triangle.  Sometimes the percussion enhances or echoes another instrument during the piece, sometimes a drum gives a little extra and added pulse to the orchestra for movement.  Sometimes it is the color that is added: sleighbells or woodblock.  And once-in-a-while, when the moon is blue, the percussionist gets a solo line.

That’s what it’s like to play, not only in the percussion section, but in ANY section of a symphonic orchestra: sometimes you harmonize, sometimes you amplify, sometimes you echo, sometimes you solo, and many times you are silent.  The composer and the conductor see how it all works together…but many times they are the only people who see the whole picture…and balances it out for the ears of the audience.

That is a lesson to be learned by those of us in a “community of faith”, where we each have a role, a gift, a “part” to be performed within the whole of this “symphony of faith.”

Each of us, for the most part, receives a copy of our own part.  To believe that we are looking at the ENTIRE SCORE is as ridiculous as believing that the timpani is the only instrument playing in Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.  There are times when what WE do enhances or harmonizes with another “player”.  There are times to echo what is playing in some other section of the Body of Believers.  There are times when the entire symphony plays together, and we are a part of that magnificent crescendo.  There are times when we need to sit, wait, and be silent as other players perform. And then there are times when we are the soloists, and the other players support us.  The One who wrote the song is the One who knows how and when everyone should play their part.  And the conductor follows the instructions set by the Composer.

It is that way in the Kingdom.  We are, for the most part, playing a part that we alone can see.  We don’t know anyone else’s part until we hear it, even then, it is not our job to do anything but assure that OUR part is played when it should be, and that we don’t play when we shouldn’t…so that that symphony is heard by the world in the way the Composer intended.

A friend of mine sent this link to me, some time ago…a classic. But this gives one a little taste of what it’s like to be a small part of a larger “Kingdom”/Symphony.

Sid Caesar & Imogene Coca – Your Show of Shows – Classical Musicians
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VeV9t2pqHWA

THE BLOG by Pastor Rick Vale
Thoughts on the April 8, 2024 Solar Eclipse, as seen in Anderson, Indiana

No one produces a show like our God. It was a spectacular hour and a breathtaking few minutes Monday during the total eclipse of the sun, over Indiana.

We sat out with our neighbors, donned our ever-so-chic and safe, government-approved shades, ate chips and popcorn, watched, and waited.

We checked the status of the sun with our shades on and watched as our neighborhood moved to twilight. We saw birds return to their nests as all around us shadows deepened to a magical dusk…slowly those birds stopped chirping.  The “sunlight-activated” lights on the outsides of our condos blinked on…and in a moment, it was dark…and incredible.

In the distance we heard the cheers of crowds gathered close by, someone begin setting off fireworks.  It was a moment. 

A memory from 1980 came knocking about that time and I was back in May of that year, another time when the sun “went out”. That time, however, what was going to happen next was unknown…the government closed everything down and ordered people home. It was a Sunday, and many congregations were ordered home. Mount St. Helens had erupted, and a sickeningly black and boiling cloud of ash was crossing the state of Washington. No one knew what to expect. Was the ash poisonous? If it rained would the rain be acid? What would happen in the dark. And it got dark, really dark.

I was wondering, last Monday, if that time in 1980 was a bit like those people long ago who didn’t expect an eclipse and faced an unknown without precedent but filled with fear.

As this entire memory passed through my mind in an instant, I was snapped back into the moment by the cheers of my neighbors and the distant crowd when suddenly a spark of light caused the sun to look like a diamond ring. I saw it, brilliant against a dark sky, without my government-approved shades, and then put them on to see what an infinitesimal sliver of sun had peeked through.

Yet looking around it was suddenly, noticeably, brighter. The “diamond ring” itself was stunning, but the fact that so little light could have such a grand effect on the earth was what struck me.

I immediately felt/heard The Spirit remind me about the power of light, and how little light it takes to change the landscape. Names started passing through my mind. Aside from the obvious, Jesus of Nazareth, there was: Paul of Tarsus, Rosa Parks, Oskar Schindler, Martin Luther King, Jr., Johann Sebastian Bach, Moses, Michael Faraday, Wolfgang Mozart, Todd Beamer, John Newton, Thomas Jefferson, Edward DeVere…and on and on. Solitary lives, some well-known and some not so well-known, who stood up to darkness and/or changed the world for the better because of their “single light”.

How little light it takes to change the landscape of the world. 

I frequently hear people remark, with a sense of futility, that there is “nothing I can do” when faced with so much darkness. I would hope that I’ve remembered to remind them how much change has come (for good AND bad) to entire civilizations because of the actions of one person.

Jesus is speaking to a “crowd of individuals” not groups of congregations when He says: “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt should lose its taste, how can it be made salty? It’s no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled on by men. You are the light of the world. A city situated on a hill cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and puts it under a basket, but rather on a lampstand, and it gives light for all who are in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” MATTHEW 5:13-16

How little light it takes to change the landscape of the world. 

Let me be blunt. There is a world of difference between our way of life and that of the New Testament. Today we have jet planes that can take us halfway around the globe (12,000 miles) in a few hours but in New Testament times people had to walk everywhere and they were lucky to cover 15 miles a day! Today, our own automobiles can reach speeds of over 100 mph but the fastest vehicle in New Testament times was a horse-drawn chariot! There are just no similarities between the two ways of life! Yet, do we call those days a “simple life.” No! A thousand times no! Life in those days was just as much a struggle as life today. Life was just as unfair then as it is today, but in different ways.

In Luke, Chapter 10, Jesus sent 70 disciples in groups of two people into cities for the purpose of preparing the people to receive Jesus when Jesus came into those cities.

He gave some odd, if not weird instructions, “carry no purse, nor note cards, nor extra shoes, and salute no one. If you enter a house, say ‘peace be unto this house’ and if your peace is rejected then leave that house. Eat and drink what your hosts offer you. Stay there until your work is done and do not go from house to house. Say to the people wherever you go ‘the Kingdom of God is here’. But if you go into a city and they do not welcome you, shake the dust off your feet and move on, but let them know that regardless of the lack of acceptance, that the Kingdom of God will still come.”

In the “plain English” we speak today, and in our way of life today, what, exactly, would Jesus be telling his disciples (us) to do, in order to bear witness to the Gospel? “Carry no purse” means “Don’t carry extra money or a bunch of credit cards!” Why? Well, the next time you drive through a small town where you don’t know a soul, stop and walk the streets and go into a couple of stores. First impressions are HUGE among the locals! If the perception is that you’ve got money to spend (and you are a stranger to them), they will welcome your dollars and likely have little or no desire to sit down and talk a while with you under the shade of the big oak tree in the town square.

“Take no note cards” means just that! In other words, quit worrying about whether you “say it right” or “whether you might leave something out that you should have said.

There is no reason to engage in the stilted language of “religious terminology”, but to converse relationally. Several times over my career as a minister, well-meaning people have knocked on my door to invite me to their church (not a problem) or to ask if I was a Christian (also not a problem), but scripts are a problem. Let me illustrate. Years ago while I was completing the seminary, Della, my wife, babysat, for a physician and her husband in their home. One day I did not have class and I was with Della that afternoon. The doorbell rang, and it was someone from a church of a different denomination. Della answered the door, and she was asked if she was a “believer?” Her reply was “of course! My husband is in the seminary to become a minister” to which the reply was, “BUT is he saved?” Della said, “I’m sorry. I have to go” and shut the door.

Scripts put people on the defensive, and usually brings a quick closure to what could have been a productive conversation. Scripts also assume that the meaning of religious words and phrases are known by the general public–even if a person has never read a Bible Story or heard a sermon. No wonder Jesus said, “No pre-scripted conversations, please!”

“Don’t take an extra pair of shoes” is puzzling advice, so I will put it in plain language. If the extra pair of shoes is patent-leather Guccis, in a community in which the streets are full of sand, then it is obvious that such shoes will testify to a wealthy life and therefore, these extra shoes serve no real purpose other than to impress rather than to find common ground. Of course, it goes without saying that “extras” imply that the messenger has been blessed far beyond what anyone else dares to expect from God.

“Salute no one!” means “seek no favors!” To seek favors, one has to assume that another person has something to offer that would otherwise be unavailable. Can you imagine a disciple of Jesus who curries the favor of a Roman official while on this mission? Do not think of “salute” in this instance as recognizing military rank; rather, salute means to impress inappropriately.

“Peace be unto this house!” If your peace is rejected, then leave. This is not “wearing out your welcome” but rather “peace” is a “comfort zone” that one detects upon entering the home of a stranger. Not long ago I was visited by a couple of Mormon missionaries. “May we give you a copy of our book? “No,” I replied, and the peace was uneasy. Then I said, “My hobby is genealogy, and I must admit that I have had some success in using Mormon genealogy records.” Ah! Conversation flowed with less awkwardness. Peace? Nevertheless, I affirmed my long association with the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), and they soon went on their way. There was no “peace” that would foster hours of conversation. But had my visitor been Pastor Rick or perhaps you! Peace would come instantly!

“Eat and drink what the host offers you!” In other words, don’t get up 30 minutes early and run to McDonald’s to get your breakfast and coffee–and eat and drink in front of your hosts! Or don’t sneak out to the steak house in the afternoon and then later decline the meal prepared by your hosts! Believe me, insults will not be tolerated!

“Do not go from house to house.” Accept the hospitality of your hosts! In the summer of 1971, between completing college in May and beginning the seminary in September, I served the summer as a youth minister at a church in Rural Hall, NC. I knew in advance that I would be spending the summer in 3 different homes over the 10-week summer. Thankfully, the minister of the church gave me excellent advice, telling me to refrain from accepting last-minute offers for a meal without allowing time for my host family to adjust their meal preparation because providing meals were a part of their obligation to host me. But I was free to accept a meal in another home if arrangements with the host family were made, let’s say, at least the day before my invitation. Wise advice, indeed!

“Tell everyone you meet that the Kingdom of God is here (near)!” I have a friend with whom I went all four years at Mars Hill University. He went to one seminary, and I went to another. We lost touch for many years, then I went to a General Assembly in which he, George Bullard, had led a two-day seminar just prior to the opening of the General Assembly, also sponsored by the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). George was a church consultant who kept abreast of trends and changes happening across America, regarding religious and church life. Of all his insights about the decline of attendance in congregational life of many denominations, he was adamant about this one: “Preach the Kingdom!” If we preach the “church” (even though it is the Body of Christ), then we invite people to see its shortcomings as well as those of church members. But if we preach the Kingdom, the coming of God’s Rule on earth as revealed through Jesus Christ who brings the Kingdom to earth that God’s will be done as it is in heaven, then we understand that God is constantly bringing God’s eternal rule on earth through redemption and love. Perhaps the criticism of the church as a “just one more institution that works through ‘proper channels’” would be blunted by the image of an imperfect but constantly emerging Kingdom of God on earth that reaches perfection in the fulfillment of the Kingdom when a new heaven and earth are created. Which sounds more exciting to you–an invitation to “enter and explore the Kingdom of God on earth” or a plea to “attend church every Sunday?”

“If you go into a city and they do not welcome you, shake the dust off your feet…but let them know that the Kingdom of God is still coming!” O, such a misunderstood verse!

Shaking the dust off one’s feet as one leaves the city is not a condemnation because the message “the Kingdom of God is coming” doesn’t change. So, what does this admonition mean? First, it means, “if you feel ineffective in that place, move on, and perhaps come back later.” Nothing creates a void in life like a feeling of “spinning wheels!” So don’t burn out on sharing the message of the Kingdom but find fertile soil.

Second, “shake the dust off your feet” means to move on and not carry with you the disappointments and hurts and agony of an unproductive environment. Recognize that you can go back later or that someone with a different personality or approach may be more effective. This advice has little to do with the city, but much to do with one’s own renewal and readiness for continued ministry and mission. “Shaking the dust off” is not a calling down of God’s fury upon the city because… 

…the message that God’s Kingdom is coming stands before that city with hope and promise!

Our home is like a beautiful “storage room”, we have a lot of stuff.  But I can point to each item of mine and tell you the story behind it, and why I hang on to it.  I suppose that’s how hoarding starts.

There is one piece of “knick-knackery” that reminds me of a time in my life I would like to forget, but also need to celebrate.

We all have periods, I suppose, where circumstances have broken us.  I’m not going to get into that specific period in my life except to say it was years ago and during that time I received a gift from a good, older, wiser, friend from my theatre world.  Knowing that life (through my own choices, other people’s choices and some other circumstances) was handing me a platter of pain and garbage, she asked to meet for coffee.  We met, we hugged, and she handed me a silk-wrapped gift.  I opened it and found a beautiful Asian-crafted bowl (see photo).  Not a bowl to fill things with, but a beautiful, blue-glazed bowl to sit on a shelf…perhaps someday in Anderson, Indiana…to serve as a remembrance for me.

“I’m not going to tell you why I’m giving this, or why it is designed the way it is.  Part of your journey should be to search its meaning out…and it has one” she said.

“I will tell you this.  The form of this bowl is also a form of Japanese philosophy…it’s called ‘kintsugi’.” And with that, she changed the subject, sipped her chai latte, and spoke no more of it.  We chattered about other things.

I took the beautiful blue bowl with gold veins home and looked the word up.

The art (and philosophy) of “kintsugi” is to take cracked and broken pottery…even if it is pottery which had been used in a practical way (in fact, that’s even better) and instead of throwing away the pieces, they are glued back together with a lacquer mixed with powdered gold.

Why?  So that when seen or used again one would be reminded that breakage in our most vulnerable times leads to repairs that ARE not, and SHOULD not be, disguised as something ugly but signify something that is fully healed and stronger.  Kintsugi is a philosophy which has been around for over 600 years, and…

…this TRUTH in Japanese philosophy is TRUTH from God.

The Spirit reminds us that God does not cause disaster or difficulties.  And although one could argue that God may test us, even Jesus urges us to pray that His Father doesn’t test us.  Yet, difficult times come…to everyone (the BELIEVER & FOLLOWER and to the non-Believer) sometimes it’s a test, sometimes it’s just “life”.

What God DOES with those moments and seasons is “kintsugi”.

I’ve almost always referred to God as “the metaphysical Rumpelstiltskin” : He turns “straw” into “gold”, in partnership WITH us and FOR us (see ROMANS 8:28).

When I see that bowl my mind travels back to the time when both the bowl, and I, were broken.  Then I saw and touched the strength (and beauty) of the gold veining today.  I would not wish much of my own journey on anyone, but I would hope that everyone could end up where I am now.

My beautiful scars are now as much a part of me as anything and everything else, in fact they have come to define me.

The irony is not lost on me that in the Age-to-Come my new body will probably be without scars.  And the only person we meet in that New Heaven and New Earth bearing scars will be…

…Jesus.  His scars healed ours. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, this upcoming Sunday is what I call, “FERN SUNDAY” (an unofficial observance of my own; the Sunday before Palm Sunday.) Now, I know it is also ST. PATRICK’S DAY, but this is not a “ST. PATRICK’S DAY” story…it’s 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.