RICK’S BLOG


A VEIN OF GOLD

A VEIN OF GOLD

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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. 


A TRUE "FRIEND"

A TRUE “FRIEND”

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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.” 


FERN SUNDAY

FERN SUNDAY

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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. 


GOOD, BEAUTIFUL, & TRUE

GOOD, BEAUTIFUL, & TRUE

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It’s possible that many have never heard of Herb & Dorothy Vogel.  Herb was a Postal Worker in Manhattan, and Dorothy a reference librarian in Brooklyn.  They were a quiet, cute couple (as described by friends) she was “bookish” and he “cuddly”.  They lived for 50 years in a 450-square-foot apartment in NYC, Herb never made any more than $23k-a-year.  And they never used any of his income to live off of…just hers, which was less…minimal.  They lived simply, ate TV Dinners, didn’t indulge in much except for some pets and one other hobby, which they were passionate about…art.

Herb had some training in Art History/Appreciation, as a young man, and introduced Dorothy to the art world (she was a theatre-music gal) on their honeymoon in Washington, DC (1962)Through the years they slowly, carefully bought art they loved.  They were not investors nor art dealers, they simply found pieces they both enjoyed and made sure that they purchased them at a “good price”.  Along the way they made friends with several of the artists from whom they purchased: twentieth century painters in need of money…for the most part…thus, the “good deals”.  They only purchased things that they would want up on their walls and could transport them on the subway.  They also went about their hobby with a plan, they educated themselves along the way, they enjoyed their friendships with the artists…and continued to live quiet, frugal, unassuming lives.

It was in the ‘80’s that they realized their lifelong passion of collecting could not be housed in their apartment…so they decided to donate.  Herb had already retired, and when Dorothy retired in 1990 they gave their collection to the National Gallery (strikingly, where Herb had first introduced Dorothy to art appreciation) because the gallery was free to the public and has a policy against “deaccessioning”, meaning their art would never be sold.

Workers from the National Gallery came to NYC and unloaded an unbelievable 2400 works from the Vogel apartment in 5 40-foot trucks.  When the gallery realized that the Vogels had not invested, they paid the Vogels an annuity as a “thank you” for their donation…which the Vogels promptly used to purchase more art…they couldn’t help it, it was their passion.

“If we wanted to make money, we would have invested in the stock market.” said Dorothy.

Their collection is now considered to be the most important collection of 20-century art in the United States…and what the curator of the National Gallery calls, irreplaceable and priceless.

I found this story incredible on many levels, as an artist and a Believer.

The VOGELS followed their God-given passion.  Although I know nothing of their spiritual lives except that they were/are by ethnicity, Jewish.  Their story shows that God gave them a passion that they followed…against the odds.  They were not the “type” of people others in the world might view as “art collectors” …they didn’t care.  They did what they believed in and let others think what they would.

The VOGELS made a plan and worked the plan.  They didn’t just jump in “willy-nilly”. They educated themselves in their passion.  They methodically, economically, and prudently enjoyed the fruit of their love of art.  So many Believers/Followers seem to think that God does NOT work hand-in-hand with our minds and heart…that once a passion (a sermon idea, a song, a project) is planted by Him in our hearts that we then just sit back and listen to His instructions and become robots to His suggestions…which is not evident in ANY place in the scripture or ANY life illustration we see today.  God implants a vision/passion and asks us to partner with Him, to hone our skills, to learn and use our brains to polish and construct what He has given us.

The VOGELS left a legacy of beauty…even though THAT was not necessarily a part of THEIR plan.  In the end they were they shocked to hear that their small apartment housed the greatest gift of 20th-Century art anywhere in the United States…that will be enjoyed by millions for years to come?  Did they understand that their belief in artists who were NOT getting the attention of critics at the time, inspired those artists to more greatness?  Did they write that down as part of their methodical plan…no.  But God-given passion* (*and love of things beautiful, good, and true ALWAYS comes from God to the Believer and the Non-Believer alike…God does NOT discriminate) is like all energy, power that does not dissipate.

The Kingdom Principle of a seed becoming a tree is evident in this story as well.

What does this mean for me?  It reminds me to: Follow my God-Given passion, use my God-given mind to carve and polish, and know that love of what is good, beautiful, and true is never wasted once I’m gone.

Then I heard a voice from heaven saying,
“Write: The dead who die in the Lord from now on are blessed.”
“Yes,” says the Spirit, “let them rest from their labors, for their works follow them!”
REVELATION 14:13 


BARREN by Pastor Ken Rickett

BARREN by Pastor Ken Rickett

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Last week while driving through East Central Indiana into Ohio, I was struck by the barrenness of the landscape. Not only were the trees sporting leafless limbs and the fields still showing the brown stubs of last year’s soybean and corn harvests, but the yards of the homes along our route were starkly lacking the vibrant colors of growing and flowering fauna. Only a few evergreen trees and shrubs dared to show a contrast to their otherwise unappealing, brownish surroundings. Even livestock in pastures were munching on beige-colored dried grass (hay).

However, I saw signs. Only two farmers were riding tractors, harrowing the moist soil, and revealing the promising dark brown fresh soil awaiting the seeds of this year’s crop. And, incredibly, a handful of fields revealed the peeping greenness of winter wheat growing in long, straight rows. But the near freezing temperatures and the gray skies dared me to hope that these signs would not be an aberration to a coming spring.

Barrenness. And promise.

In the mountains of North Carolina, I have fond memories of driving by the blue waters of the small Lake Junaluska located near Waynesville, NC. A Methodist Retreat Center, homes for retired ministers, and other residences line the hillside streets in which there is a view of the reflective waters of the Lake in which sunrises and sunsets could be seen in its breath-taking hues. But on Facebook this morning, I saw a drone photo of a drained, and empty Lake Junaluska. Creeping through the middle of the basin was a narrow creek that had been dammed to create the Lake. The reason for draining the Lake? Over the long years, the Lake had become filled with silt that had been carried into the Lake by heavy rainfalls that washed soil from nearby hillside fields. Consequently, the shallower the Lake depth, the less it could support game fish, or provide food for migrating geese, or permit safe boating. This photo was one of barrenness, with sharp outlines of the old shoreline. Come spring, heavy equipment will dig and haul the silt away.

So with barrenness, there remains promise, hope.

The Bible speaks of barrenness. Sarah, Abraham’s wife, was barren, that is, without child, until she had lived long beyond the age to bear children. The promise of God that she would bear a child kept hope alive and brought joy at its fulfillment with the birth of Isaac.

The scriptures also tell us of barrenness due to drought, and barrenness of fishermen who labored all night without catching fish. And in a way, there are passages that portray the poor as barren of necessities, and in need of the generosity of others.

As always, barrenness is met with sheer hope that is sometimes, if not often, fulfilled; and barrenness is often met with the ministry of other people. Either way, God never abandons nor forsakes. Even if death comes in barrenness, God gives what God can only give to His own people, that is the abundant life (zoe) forever…filled with love and joy.

Barrenness. If the truth be told, daily news is mostly about barrenness or approaching barrenness. What else is new? Even the prophets spoke of a barrenness that would befall sinful people. Those in Babylonian exile suffered a great barrenness, feeling cut off from both their native land and their God. At the time that Jesus was born, a great barrenness had arisen in the land because of Greek and Roman rule AND because of a blind spirituality among the people, including many religious leaders.

And in this season of LENT we wrestle with our barrenness. It is not what we give up for Lent that is our priority, rather our priority is to become acutely self-aware and congregationally self-aware of our barrenness….and our need for a hope that raises us up from this barrenness. Only with a keen sense of barrenness can we exclaim with joy on Easter Sunday morning that “Jesus Christ has been raised from the dead.” Jesus did not arise on his own; God raised Him from the deepest depths of barrenness…and to be raised from the depths of our barrenness is our hope, our promise, our joy, our true value before God.


PAPER MOONS & CARBOARD SEAS

PAPER MOONS & CARBOARD SEAS

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The lyrics to “IT’S ONLY A PAPER MOON” always remind me of when I was a child, I was fascinated by theatrical productions not because of the performances, but because of the sets.  The first time, when I was very young, that I walked backstage and saw the visual tricks used to make the audience believe what they were seeing was real…while knowing it was not. Now, more than ever, and after several years in professional and community theatre, I am fascinated by the craft of theatrical scenic design and execution.

I am currently in the middle of another show, this time my own script and music. Although this show doesn’t have much of a set (other than the beautiful setting of THE ANDERSON MUSEUM OF ART) I am still amazed by the art of “set design” and construction.

To sit in an audience and KNOW, in your mind, that the space you are looking at is simply a box open to the audience, but what you see is a lavish, marble-paneled palace interior, or a forest, or a village green…that kind of “suspension of belief” is a skill and somewhat mysterious gift given to designers who often need to be engineers of sorts as well. The process of making one thing look like another and putting the audience in a frame of mind, sucking them into the story, is still a wonderful experience for me.

When one takes a trip backstage to see the “magic” revealed, the experience can be, as it is for me and some others, an even more fascinating time.  However, for others, the magic is gone once they realize that what they see is not the truth: that brick wall is a façade of a quarter-inch plastic…that tree is made of papier-mâché, as are the solid-looking-weather-worn stones.  The sky?  Material with blue light on it…and the stars, merely electronics.

The  papier-mâché tree wouldn’t stand light rain, much less a storm.  The house has only three sides and is made of cardboard, some would, some paint…no one in their right mind would want to LIVE there.  The stones wouldn’t support a small animal, much less be shelter or foundation for more building.  The set is only a reproduction and real only to the audience…and much of that is in their own minds.

INTEGRITY.  The word describes what is incorruptible, sound and complete.  Integrity is something that truly is, on the inside, what it appears to be on the outside.  If it looks like a tree or a stone, or a brick wall, on the outside…INTEGRITY demands that it BE a tree, or stone, or brick wall on the inside.

A related word, INTEGRAL, suggests completeness, wholeness, and trueness.  It’s root from a practice, in Roman days, of filling in the cracks of poorly made, or not so fine, marble columns with wax so that they would appear more perfect (more “integral”).  Of course, later, the hot sun would melt the wax and the buyer would realize that the “good deal on columns” was a bad deal for his house.

Are you what you appear to be?  Do all of us present an “audience side” to those we want to please or “perform for”?  Sometimes we do.  Being “nice” is not what being a Believer & Follower is all about…being “good” is.  Nice is “façade”, put on for some, but not for others. “Good” implies that at our core we have the Spirit of God burning as a furnace and warming from the inside out.  The scripture warns us that a façade will not stand the test of life…eventually what is TRULY in our hearts will come through.  The papier-mâché of our own stage set will wear quickly away…and if there is nothing but chicken wire and cardboard behind it, our friends will know…worse, we will not have the strength to merely walk through life.

 Let’s build from the inside out…start with a good designer, our Heavenly Father.


ASH WEDNESDAY

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I love traveling.  I love seeing our beautiful world and the people in it. In fact, as wonderful as all the scenery and cultures I’ve experienced are, it’s the people that are most fascinating. I’m an introvert at heart, and I like to sit in the back and see the whole picture, as wide a field as possible.  And when travelling, my favorite thing is find a quiet table, bench, or palm tree…and sit watching people.

We are a fascinating species, all types, all personalities, and yet similar. I, jokingly, like to say that God only has a few “molds” He uses in building us; and so, He uses some over and over. That’s ridiculous, of course, as even the most similar are as different as snowflake crystals or sand on the beach – but it’s a fun game. I watch young parents with their children. Children seem to be the same throughout the world. I watch older couples, helping each other navigate the tours, the shops, and the uneven walkways. Then there are the wealthy, the elegant, the plain, and the boisterous. I see the friendly, and the not-so-friendly, the grumpy, and the funny. It’s always a wonderful collection of sameness & difference.

On this day, ASH WEDNESDAY, I am thinking of the ashes, Palm Sunday, people, and the journey each of us together. Our bodies move toward an end, while our souls grow and finally break through. Where our souls travel, when free of these bodies, is taken on faith. We all have an idea as to what will happen when the soul breaks free, and we argue with each other about it; wasting time that could be used to connect to each other, as Jesus has asked us to do.

As for our bodies, we should all KNOW what is going to happen. And not just bodies, but our lands, our homes, our countries, and our kingdoms. It’s not just faith and religion that teach us about this cycle of beginnings and endings…it is life observed, and history itself. All human things end, whether individual humans or communities of humans, large and small. Hardly anything symbolizes that truth more than ASH WEDNESDAY.

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 sixteen years (my Anniversary with Central Christian Church was this past Saturday, February 18th), 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.

We are all headed in that direction. No matter our diversity, no matter our likeness, we all travel to that location. That knowledge alone should cause us to be 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 life as physical life was created to be – 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 it might be your responsibility to show (without words, but with action) someone else the way to “a lifeboat.” 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 brush aside either,

Or you may also brush aside

God’s wish for you to either

ENJOY or BE the miracle. 


THE LINEBACKER GROOM

THE LINEBACKER GROOM

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She was a petite, beautiful, blonde girl who fell in love with a college linebacker while in school.  Back at home, in my home church, she asked me (still a high school student) to sing THE LORD’S PRAYER at her wedding.  Although I had done a few weddings already, this was still early on in my “sing for/playing for/presiding over” wedding career, and I was honored.

None of us had met or even seen her fiancé until the day he arrived for the wedding, from his home state of Oklahoma.  It was a Saturday in July, on the desert side of my home state.  It was a sunny one-hundred-and-three degrees…but it was a DRY heat.  The old home sanctuary’s ancient cooling system (I’m not even sure they CALLED it air-conditioning at that point) was not keeping up.  But the sanctuary was beautiful; filled with hundreds upon hundreds of pink and cream roses.

The bride was beautiful, and the groom…?  Well, he can be best described as “the largest object in the room” and easily the biggest man I have ever seen.  The presiding minister was five-ten and had to stand on one of the boxes the youth of the church used for one of their “musicals”, just to be seen by the congregation.

The groom was probably as uncomfortable with his suit as his suit was with him.  And did I say it was hot?

The time came.  The vows and rings had been said and exchanged, and it was time for the prayer.  The Pastor nodded to me, and the pianist began the familiar arpeggio intro to THE LORD’S PRAYER.  I began singing.  Now, this is a song I knew so I could kind of watch the proceedings (which was supposed to be prayer and communion for the couple) while I sang.  What I saw was a groom who started swaying, and then…to the horror of all present…started slowly falling forward, threatening to crush the Pastor.  The bride threw down her bouquet and grabbed her future husband’s tree-trunk arm to keep him up, as effectively as a squirt gun in a forest fire.

The Pastor yelled (yes, more like screamed) “Somebody help!”, while indicating me to keep singing.  BOTH fathers jumped up and ran to intervene, as they got closer, they frantically indicated to the assembly for MORE MEN!

Meanwhile, I’m singing THE LORD’S PRAYER.  Is anyone praying?  It was the strangest underscore to the scene before me that I could imagine.  In the end it took ten average-sized men to gently lower the groom to a sitting position until he came to.

The wedding reception was held (as always, back in the day) in the church’s next-door fellowship hall.  I meandered back for cake, mints, nuts and pink punch.  The first person I saw was the bride’s mother, who came directly to me and said, “She wants you to go get him out of the kitchen, he won’t come out.  She figured you’d be the best one to talk to him.”

Because…? And what?  Remember, I was a MUSICIAN (read: scrawny, non-jock) and this was a southern states linebacker.  Guys like that snap guys like me in tiny pieces, just as a light workout.  I also didn’t know him.  But, with a little prayer and naivete I entered the kitchen.  There I found a man, a few years older than me, as big as the house I grew up in, sitting in the corner…crying.

I went over and said hi, sat by him and introduced myself.
“Nice singing.” He said, “I can’t go out there…I ruined her wedding…everybody’s laughing.”

And this big guy suddenly became a small boy.  I didn’t (and still don’t) have the wisdom of Solomon, Ghandi or Dr. Phil at that point, so I probably said some stupid things.  Thankfully I don’t remember.  What I do remember is that he exited the kitchen to a loving crowd of people, I exited a hero, and I became friends with a really great guy.

Aside from the obvious life lesson: “If you’re going to get married on the hottest day of the year in an un-airconditioned church, be sure to ask the groom if he’s allergic to roses” …

…there is another lesson: “You don’t know someone until you GET TO KNOW them.”

We look on the outside, but God looks on the heart. (I SAMUEL 16:7) I’m prone to label and judge, and my guess is that some of you are also.  This early lesson to me was that the outsides don’t always advertise what’s inside.  And if you label too quickly, you might miss something wonderful. 


THE CHEVY

THE CHEVY

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Years and years ago, when I was but a wee lad of 30 (1988) I took a dream trip to the U.S.S.R. (back when it WAS the U.S.S.R.). I traveled as a composer who, together with a Soviet composer, an American playwright, and a Soviet playwright, wrote a musical to be performed by an acting troupe of High School actors from both the U.S.S.R. and U.S.A. (a local youth theatre from the Pacific Northwest).  We had a truly life-changing time, getting to travel on the Trans-Siberian Railway, watching the country go by and ending up in Novosibirsk, Siberia where we rehearsed together and learned from each other.

There were many warm and wonderful people that we met, and many of them were eager to tell us all that THEY knew and loved about America.  This was the age of perestroika and glasnost; the country was much more open and people more willing to be free about their opinions.  There was a genuine friendship and willingness to connect with the Americans.  These people wanted us to know that they admired many things about us and our culture.

One of our hosts showed us photos that she had collected from “grey-market” LIFE magazines: pictures of Presidents past, photos and articles of space exploration, as done by the U.S.  There was the English Teacher, who wanted to always speak English with us, so that she could practice her idioms.

Then there was the 60-something-year-old man in Siberia who, after a dinner at his home (a larger apartment, because he was a high-ranking party member), and a few glasses of vodka, wanted to show us his pride and joy.  We walked outside to the back of the complex where he led us to a series of locked garages (cars were a luxury and there were few of them) where he unlocked the padlock, opened a small door within the garage door, turned on a light and we looked in disbelief at a spotless garage containing a shiny, like-new, baby-blue, American, 1957 Chevy.

Even those of us (like me) who didn’t know much about cars were astounded at several things: it was in pristine condition, inside and out, it was sitting on a large oriental rug…AND IT WAS AN AMERICAN ’57 CHEVY in the middle of Siberia!

I’ve forgotten much of the story, told by him through our interpreter, but remember enough that it was a gift given to him by a German who acquired it from an American soldier.  It was sent to this man (Ivan was his name, I believe) in pieces, which he put together by find photos of the vehicle…which was not easy at that time.  He was a tool and die maker in Siberia, so he fashioned implements he couldn’t find.  His eyes filled with tears when he saw the astonished admiration of the teen-aged boys who looked at every detail…and encouraged them, and us, to go ahead and touch it…he would polish it again tomorrow.

We left a very happy man, tinkering with it in his garage that night.  But before we left, the interpreter with us, my new friend Misha, called me over to the hood of the car and said…”look at this”.  He opened the hood and inside was…nothing.  There was no engine.  Ivan had received some parts of the engine, but not enough yet to rebuild it…partially because the engine parts were so valuable that he used some of them to fix the car that he actually drove.

What we had here was a beautiful vehicle, looking like it hadn’t aged a day since it left the factory in the U.S.A…but its main purpose was all but forgotten.

There are Believers & Followers…and even entire congregations…who are just like that car.  We look good on the outside, and even sparkle with beauty.  But our intended purpose is missing.  This is a person/church without the Breath of God.  The entire PURPOSE of a 1957 Chevy is transportation.  The beautiful design and structure is to cover, protect and enhance the performance of the engine…the purpose is to carry people and things from one place to other.  Somehow in this story the design & structure became a shell…the purpose being lost.  Sometimes the design and structure of a Believer & Follower or a congregation becomes the MOST important thing and POWER (The Holy Spirit/Breath of God) is gone and can’t support the PURPOSE.  So, churches polish the structure and make sure that it’s a beautiful “vehicle” that doesn’t go anywhere.

The lesson?  “The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing”, let’s surround ourselves with a beautiful structure ONLY after we are assured that the engine is powered by the Breath of God, and tuned to His Word.  Only then can we get the car out of the garage and see the world today, in our Chevrolet! 


CONTEXT IS EVERYTHING

CONTEXT IS EVERYTHING

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I recently saw an “inspirational” décor piece, in a store, that astounded me. The quote was a scripture, and the red flag for me was the scripture reference…not because I know every scripture reference to every scripture, but I DID know approximately what was happening during this scripture portion. The block of wood, beautifully printed in muted tones, so as to be a subtle reference to the owner’s allegiances in a cozy room somewhere, had this scripture printed on it:

“I will give You all these things if You will fall down and worship me.” Matthew 4:9

Now the first thing that hit me was the seemingly ever-present teaching that it’s “all about me”, in other words, if I am a Believer & Follower I will get a bunch of good stuff. First, Jesus doesn’t teach that, and neither does He teach that you or I are the only members of the Kingdom. But what struck me was the scripture reference itself; something was amiss.

I looked on my handy iPhone Bible, sure enough, some important information and context were missing…enough to make this piece of “Christian art” laughable. I was right when I thought this passage was in the middle of the “temptations” of Jesus following His baptism. Where does this passage take place? On a very high mountain. Who is speaking? Satan. And to whom is he speaking? Jesus. The irony of seeing this in a consumer marketplace was overwhelming.

However, once you analyze it, it’s not funny anymore. It IS a good lesson about “context” and pulling phrases or words OUT of context and then reading or hearing something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT than what was intended. In the study of scripture especially, this is called PROOF TEXTING – proof text: (noun) a singular Scriptural passage produced as proof for an entire theological doctrine, belief, or principle.

Pulling scripture out of context is recognized by almost everyone as an error someone else is guilty of it, but unfortunately tolerated by almost everyone when used to fashion THEIR OWN argument, view, or doctrine. It is a difficult thing to avoid because there are so many quotable and singular verses that say much in few words. It’s difficult not to ignore the verses around and just focus on the one that sounds best to you. Worse, when one has a particular viewpoint they are trying to argue, or a particular part of their own personal or corporate theology and doctrine they are trying to promote, it seems that quoting scripture without context can be quite useful to substantiate any and every view. That practice of “proof texting” has been used to form entire theologies and doctrines…for hundreds of years!

Don’t ignore CONTEXT – The three questions we, as Believers & Followers, must ask of every scripture we read are these:
WHO is speaking?
TO WHOM are they speaking?
WHAT IS THE CONTEXT in time and place?
Only then can a student of the Scripture get closer to what the original intended audience heard, THEN we can know the core of what God says to all places and times. If one doesn’t understand which festival was being observed when Jesus shouted out, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to Me and drink!” (John 7:37) and why that would be controversial at that specific time and place, then they do not get the REAL and FULL meaning of the phrase. It is just like the words, “keep away from children” on the aspirin bottle…if you don’t know the context, it’s just plain funny…AND SAYS SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.

When we look for “feel good” passages of scripture that promise “health & wealth” we ignore the COMMUNITY of THE KINGDOM – for the sake of individual, and sub-group arguments. Since the 1970’s our religion has turned very egocentric at the expense of community. Ours is not a Faith that is practiced theoretically or individually, it is a Faith that is exercised through action-love to others; that is how we are to be identified in the world, and how we will be judged at the end of this age. 

“Judas went out and hanged himself.” (Matthew 25:7) is rarely a verse anyone pulls out of context and builds an entire theology around, and for good reason…it is not necessarily about us, it is information, as many other scriptures are, as well. For those who believe that EVERY verse speaks to EVERY person of EVERY time and place, this may be a matter of semantics, or it may be a difficult hurdle to jump. Much of the scripture was written for specific people, specific needs, at a specific time…there may be a problem of relevancy to every word in the scripture today, or in any other time. But in the center of every scripture (within context) is a Kingdom Principle.

Why do the folks in my congregation wear clothes manufactured with blended fabric, even though the law of the Old Testament specifically commands us differently? Because:

  1. we don’t live according to the law, we live by the grace of God in Jesus, and
  2. that law doesn’t apply to us…and when we Believe & Follow Jesus we fulfill all law.

Every verse does not speak to every person in every time and place, but the core principles of those verses do carry a common thread and Kingdom principle that speak to all at every time.  The verse about Judas isn’t a command for me or anyone else to do likewise, but in the context of the story there is a lesson about the desolate nature of turning away from the grace that is God.

Out of context scriptures can ignore wholeness. The main reason it is dangerous is because it looks at scripture as if it were a bunch of little pieces, unconnected from other little pieces, instead of seeing each verse, each chapter, and each book as part of the whole. Why do reasonable Believers & Followers think that slavery is a bad concept for humans who love God? Is it because there is a specific verse that says so? No, it’s because when one reads/studies THE WHOLE OF SCRIPTURE and gets to know God OFF THE PAGE as well, one clearly sees that everything points to a Truth that says “people are not to be owned by others”. This leads to another flaw of IGNORING WHOLENESS, “the scripture is the best commentary on itself.” When one verse or odd collection of various out-of-context verses sit next to THE WHOLE of Scripture and God do they align? If not, it’s most probably not the scripture that’s in the wrong…it is most probably lack of study, poor translation, or resistance of the reader to “re-search” and be open to a different reading than they may want or know.

Scripture out of context sometimes ignores priorities. The WHOLE of Scripture points in one direction…to the person of Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God. Jesus is the point, Jesus is the hub, Jesus is the paradigm through which ALL of scripture has to be seen…or the rest of scripture makes no sense. His words and actions have priority. It makes sense that if the book is ABOUT HIM then His ideas and His theology take precedent over all the rest.

I have watched good friends divide over some national issues and have read many arguments that use Scripture passages (or U.S. Constitution passages) out of context (on both sides). This is perhaps the most important point: the disturbing word here is “USED”. The Scripture is not to be USED by anyone as an instrument of attack, especially for their own agenda. Pulling verses out of the scripture to make them fit what one wishes to be truth and then calling it God’s truth because all the words came from scripture is like me cutting a Picasso up into one hundred pieces and gluing the pieces back together haphazardly and still calling it a Picasso.

When “re-searching” the scripture remember to ask:

WHO is speaking?
TO WHOM are they speaking?
WHERE & WHEN is this taking place?

Our prime objective is TO KNOW GOD AND THE ONE HE SENT (John 17:3) But…all the Bible Study in the world does not override empathy, compassion, and plain old LOVE. No scripture verse has dominance over the continual message of Jesus: LOVE EACH OTHER AS I HAVE LOVED YOU – in other words, YOU LOVE ME BY LOVING EACH OTHER: friend, family and foe…even “to the least of those.”