Will the Lord take you in?

One year ago yesterday, my mom took a fall from which she never recovered. She didn't break any bones, but the weakened state that she was in at the time, combined with the infection that caused her to faint, was more than she could overcome. After about six weeks, first in the hospital and then in nursing care, we brought her home to die. She left this life on February 22, 2016, at the age of 85.

I was thinking about all this yesterday, and about her, and I reshared this blog post from February 13. I think at the time I wrote it I knew deep down that she wasn't going to get better, but I wasn't quite ready to face it. I was still hoping and praying for a turnaround. It never came.

My mom died with saving faith in Jesus Christ. I had thought she was baptized as a child but in going through her things I found a certificate of both adult baptism and confirmation in the Episcopal church. She also had me baptized in the Episcopal church, but for the first 10 years of my life we didn't attend regularly. Then when I was in sixth grade we moved, and a friend of mine invited us to her church. I asked if we could go, and we did, whereby my mom discovered Roman Catholicism. It was a turning point for her. She became Catholic and so did I. From that time on we were in worship every week. I give thanks for that friend and that church, which changed the course of my mom's life as well as mine.

As I reflect on it, I think that one reason Catholicism spoke to my mom so strongly was that it offered a sense of stability that had always been missing for her. She was an only child whose parents left her to be cared for by relatives. In a life marked by abandonment and insecurity, the ancient Church presented her the opportunity to feel connected to something unchanging and bigger than herself. The liturgy, ritual, majesty and history afforded her a kind of security she had never known. Finally, she felt like she had a family. 

At the same time, though, she heard from the Catholic church that if she just tried a little harder and did a little more she could "work out" her salvation. She looked at the suffering of this life as something that got her a step closer to God, proving her worth. On more than one occasion I talked to her about the gospel as I had come to understand it as a Lutheran--something completely free and unearned, total gift. But it seemed almost impossible for her to conceive of. I wish that before she died she could have somehow found the comfort of knowing that although there was no way she could ever be good enough, she was nevertheless saved by grace through faith because Christ did it all for her.

I spent a good deal of time during my mom's last days singing, praying and reading the Bible to her, particularly the psalms. A recurrent one was Psalm 27, linked above. In her Bible it was one she had marked, bracketing off verse 10: "For my father and my mother have forsaken me, but the Lord will take me in." I decided to have Psalm 27 sung at her funeral and to include verse 10 on her burial marker. The marker was ordered in August but still has not arrived. Hopefully, soon.

My mom did not fully understand the gift of grace, but neither do any of us. Thanks be to God we don't need perfect understanding to get into heaven. We just need faith in Christ, however imperfect and weak that faith is. I know my mom had that and that when she departed this life she was immediately welcomed into the presence of her Savior. What a joy to know she doesn't have to try, doubt or wonder anymore! She is "in"--not because of how much she loved God, but because of how much He loved her. May all of us as God's children cling to that certain hope.  

A Regular Guy? (From the Archives) - 1 Timothy 3

Facebook reminded me that I wrote and posted this article three years ago today. My opinion hasn't changed. I give thanks for all the pastors I have known, including my current ones, who understand and take to heart Paul's charge to the overseer.  

I have been pondering this for a while. In my life I have known quite a few men "of the cloth" (pastors, priests, preachers, etc.). With many of them I have observed a certain quality that I find it difficult to put my finger on.  I have seen it in both priests (I used to be Roman Catholic) and Lutheran pastors as well as ministers from other denominations. For lack of a better word, they are "pastoral." There is something that is just a little different about them, something that sets them apart from the rest of us. Again, it is hard to define and describe, but some of the qualities that come to mind are thoughtfulness, quietness, dignity, caring, kindness, peacefulness, gentleness, serenity, self-control and calm. In short, they are Christ-like. I am probably going to get raked over the coals for saying this, but I also appreciate pastors/priests who in their own demonstration of propriety and decorum make  "regular" people want to behave better than they otherwise might. In the same way that I as a parent try not to let my children see me sin (even though I do sin) because I don't want my sin to lead them astray, I appreciate pastors who set a good example with regard to their use of language and their choices in entertainment, dress, behavior, etc. I think men who are charged with standing in for Christ in the worship service often carry some of that aura of holiness into their everyday lives, and I think that is a good thing.

At the same time, I understand that pastors are sinners like the rest of us. Believe me, I understand. But it seems that there are some pastors who, in their effort to warn us about the worthlessness of our own good deeds, go out of their way to put the baser aspects of their humanity on display. Similarly, there are some lay people who go out of their way to encourage pastors in this anti-pietism crusade. This doesn't make sense to me. Does not Paul himself call the overseer to a higher standard of behavior than those he oversees?

The saying is trustworthy: If anyone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a noble task. Therefore an overseer must be above reproach, the husband of one wife, sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable,able to teach, not a drunkard, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money. He must manage his own household well, with all dignity keeping his children submissive, for if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he care for God's church? He must not be a recent convert, or he may become puffed up with conceit and fall into the condemnation of the devil. Moreover, he must be well thought of by outsiders, so that he may not fall into disgrace, into a snare of the devil. (1 Timothy 3:1-7)

I take the statements that the overseer should be "respectable" and "well thought of by outsiders" to be a call for him to adhere to a high enough standard of speech and behavior that he will not confuse, offend, or lead astray one of his sheep or miss the opportunity to minister to someone in need. In my opinion, then, a pastor should not use foul language. He should not tell dirty jokes or use racial slurs. He should use good manners and exhibit modesty in his behavior and moderation in his lifestyle. He should be humble and act like a gentleman, not drawing excessive attention to himself. These are all things I try to do in my own life so as to set a good example for my children; I think my pastor, and pastors in general, should make the same effort for us their sheep. I realize that pastors fail as we all do. But we will all fail less often if we make the effort to begin with.

One final thought. I find it puzzling that sometimes the same people who promote the "Pastors are sinners like the rest of us so don't expect them to behave any better or differently" mantra are the very same people who will blindly follow a pastor simply because he is the pastor and he cannot possibly be at fault. This seems to me a disconnect. If the pastor is a sinner like the next guy, isn't it possible that he has actually somewhere along the way made a mistake or committed a sin? And if so, shouldn't he have that sin pointed out so that he can be brought to repentance and forgiveness like anyone else? And isn't doing so actually a good and positive thing for him (and his sheep) if it leads to a recognition of sin and a change in behavior going forward?

I guess what I am trying to say is that while I realize the man in the clerical suit is a sinful human being, I also look to him as a father figure and teacher, one who has been called to high and holy purpose, and as a result I hope and expect of him certain attributes and behaviors that I don't necessarily expect of the person sitting next to me in the pew. I also hope and expect that when he sins, which he surely does, he does not hide behind his office but readily acknowledges his failings and in so doing models the humility with which we should each approach the cross of our crucified Christ.

Did you go to church today?

If so, did you sing?

If you answered yes, thank you. Because if you answered yes, you blessed your brothers and sisters in Christ, and you blessed me. If, on the other hand, you didn't sing, but only sat while those around you did so, you missed a God-given opportunity to encourage and build up, and be built up by, the Body of Christ.

Faithful church folk often give thought to how they might serve their neighbors in the congregation. Typically, they think of things like providing meals to those in need; getting involved in church governance; volunteering in the church office; serving as ushers, greeters and Altar Guild members; teaching Sunday School or VBS; or setting up for coffee hour. The list could go on. Maybe you do some of these things, or maybe you do something else. But if you aren't singing during church, you are overlooking one of the most basic callings you have as a member of a Christian congregation.

It is also one of the easiest ways you can serve, requiring no extra time on your part. You're in church anyway, right? And you have a functioning larynx? That's all you need. Contrary to what you might think, singing in church doesn't require any special training. God doesn't care whether you have a beautiful singing voice or whether you can read music and sing the right notes and rhythms, and neither do I. All that is required for this most important work is faith, the faith that was given to you in Baptism and the faith that is nourished each week as you hear the Word and receive the Sacraments. It is that faith which sings. It is that faith which cannot help but sing.

Please, dear friends. Sing. I need to hear you. My child needs to hear you. When his mind and his eyes wander, and he starts looking around the sanctuary, he needs to see not only his parents singing, but the people around him singing, with gusto. He needs for the Word of God to dwell in those around him so richly that he hears it coming at him from every corner of the room. I try my best to sing every stanza of every hymn and every line of liturgy, but sometimes I falter. Sometimes my voice cracks, or I run out of breath, or something in the hymn causes my throat to tighten and tears to well up so that I am unable to make it through to the end. That's when I need to hear you--behind me, beside me, in front of me--carrying on. That's when my family needs to hear you. And when you can't keep going, then it will be my turn to carry on for you. Together, only together, are we able to sing through to the very end.

I am a trained musician. But when I am in church what discourages me is not wrong notes or off-key singing. What discourages me is lack of singing. When you don't sing, not only do I miss out on what your voice has to contribute to the song of the assembled saints, but you miss out, too. When you passively sit while others sing, you are not experiencing the words as richly as you otherwise could. That is not to say that the Word is not having its way with you. But you are denying yourself the opportunity to have those words enter and take up residence in your being in yet another, God-given manner. And that is a grievous thing.

As the wife of a church musician, and as a church musician myself, I have heard lots of singing in church. And the truth is that some who might be tagged as the "worst" singers have over the years most beautifully sung faith into my heart. Why? Because they don't hold back. They don't worry about how they sound. They sing, from the depth of their being, because they can do no other. And in doing so, they testify to the faith they have been given and thereby build up those around them.

Along with the prophet Jeremiah, let us not just gaze upon and smell the great banquet of Psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs that our dear Father has provided for our nourishment. Let us swallow them down ravenously and come back for more. Let us serve them up in abundance for those who join us at the table, passing the plate around, one to the next, sending it back to the Chef to get reloaded, and passing it around again. It's a feast meant to be shared, and there's a place for you, no matter how messy an eater (or singer) you may be.

 Your words were found, and I ate them,
    and your words became to me a joy
    and the delight of my heart,
for I am called by your name,
    O Lord, God of hosts. (Jeremiah 15:16)

Here are few more Bible verses that speak of the singing nature of the Christian faith.

Blessed

Sometimes I still can't believe everything that has happened. Two years ago around this time we were coming off a period of terrible, painful upheaval during which my husband had been fired and we had spent several months in limbo, without the certainty of an income going forward and without the support of our church home of 13 years. Thanks be to God that our time of uncertainty was short-lived, as He did lead my husband to a new job and us to a new church. And yet one year ago we found ourselves facing another huge change, as Phillip accepted a position in Oklahoma and we had to say goodbye again, this time to a church family we had barely had time to get to know (but already loved). As my husband left Illinois to begin his new job, I stayed behind to sell the house. Our separation lasted almost six months, and during that time my mom, who lives with us, and who had broken her hip on Christmas Day 2012, struggled mightily with post-operative pain and rehab and, eventually, another hip surgery.

This is not supposed to be a "poor me" post. On the contrary. As I look back at all we have been through and where we are now, I am reminded yet again of the Lord's infinite and gracious mercy. Sometimes when my husband and I wake up in the morning and head out to enjoy coffee on our patio, we just look at each other in disbelief. It has been a long time since we have felt this relaxed and at peace. So tonight, on the eve of my fiftieth birthday, I ask your indulgence as I pause to take stock. How am I blessed? Let me count the ways.  

1) I made it to 50! (Well, almost.) And barring some very minor physical ailments, I am in good health (and could feel even better if I would work at it a little harder).

2) I have been married to my first and only boyfriend for over 27 years. He doesn't get enough credit for putting up with me. It isn't easy. (You people only see what I decide to share after much editing.)

3) I have three amazing children who only get more amazing every day. They are all in good health, and they all know their Savior. Two of them are in college on scholarship, and the third is going to be around for me to hassle at least eight more years. And I get to homeschool him! 

4) My husband has a job. He enjoys his work and the people he works with. I get to piddle around making a few bucks here and there doing things I like to do. We have everything we need, and many of the things we want. 

5) My mom has bounced back incredibly this year from a long period of injuries and depression. She is enjoying her days in a way she hasn't in a very long time.

6) We live in Oklahoma! It is prettier than I could have ever imagined, and yes, the mornings are like something out of a movie. 

7) We belong to a great, confessional Lutheran church with a dedicated, caring staff, faithful elders, and kind and loving members. 

8) Evan will receive his First Communion this year!  

9) We have a great house that we are renting. (We do hope to buy again, but in the meantime, it sure is nice to not be responsible. If something goes wrong, we just dial up the landlord.) 

10) Life has slowed down to the extent that we are finding time to enjoy it. As I look back over the last 15 years, it seems that so much of it was spent constantly on the go, trying to make ends meet, trying to please others, trying to prove something (not sure what), just trying, trying, trying. I don't mean that there weren't good days. There were--many of them. But they were exhausting. It is blessed relief to find ourselves in a place where there is time to breathe, time to sit, time to think, time to read, time to walk, time to watch movies and cook and play games. For so long there was no time for anything but to go on to the next thing. Now it's actually possible to make the Next Thing wait.

During some of our darkest days, a wise friend and teacher told us, "Expect blessing." When everything seems to be going wrong, it is hard to trust those words. Yet we know that in all things, even in our sufferings, God blesses, and so we cling to His promises, and wait, and hope. I don't want to make the mistake of looking at the ease of these days as some sort of reward for having come through a difficult period. We are poor, miserable sinners who have earned nothing and deserve nothing. And I know there will be hard times again. But I sure am glad for this stretch, however long it lasts, and for our Lord's grace, today and always. 

"I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

Breaking the Cycle

I came across this article on The Art of Manliness blog and instantly identified with it (I think it applies equally to men and women). The author is concerned with the propensity for certain destructive attitudes and behaviors to get passed from one generation to the next and the difficulty of breaking out of such a cycle. An individual who succeeds in charting a different path for his children than the one he grew up with is called a "transitional" figure.

My husband and I have in the past talked about how we both seem to be transitional figures in our families (although we didn't use that terminology). Although we were both baptized as infants, neither one of us was taken to church in childhood. That changed for both of us in adolescence, and for both of us it was the Holy Spirit working through other people--as well as through our own baptisms--that made it happen. In my husband's case, his family moved when he was entering middle school, and the local Lutheran (LCMS) church sent a welcome delegation to his house along with an invitation to church. Over time only Phillip continued to attend, and he eventually decided on his own to take catechism instruction and be confirmed (as a high school student, he was the oldest Confirmand in his class). My story is similar in that when I was about the same age my family also moved, but in my case it was a Roman Catholic friend who invited me to her church. I had long wanted to go to church and asked my mom if we could accept the invitation. She said yes, and ultimately we were both confirmed. I became Lutheran upon marriage, and my husband and I are now passing on to our children a confession of faith that neither of us was taught as a child. We pray, and believe, that they will pass it on to their children.

Moving from living a life apart from the church to living one that revolves around the church is the primary difference between the way my husband and I were brought up and the way we are bringing up our children, and that is completely by the grace of God. But having Christ as the center of our marriage and our family has informed all the other choices we have made over the years, leading us to apply many of the recommendations mentioned in the article. We both knew what kind of life we wanted and we went about it intentionally. I don't want to seem ungrateful for the things our parents gave us. They had their own baggage, and they did the best they could with the hand they were dealt. The older I get, the more I understand how hard it is, under the best of circumstances, to be a good parent. I wanted to share the article above and a bit of my own story to encourage anyone reading who is in the process of exorcising the demons of the past to persevere in doing so. You are fighting the good fight, and God will not forsake you as you seek to change the course of history in your family.

Repeating History

Right now in history Evan and I are studying the seventeenth century. Our text is Susan Wise Bauer's The Story of the World: History for the Classical Child. Several days ago we read about Oliver Cromwell and the Puritan Revolution. One passage left us laughing so robustly that Evan demanded it be read again and again:

Now that Parliament had been dissolved by force, Cromwell and his army generals appointed a new Parliament, made up of 139 men "fearing God and of approved fidelity and honesty." This Parliament became known as the Barebones Parliament, after one of its members, a Puritan minister named Praise-God Barebones."

Sounds like something out of Spongebob Squarepants, doesn't it? No wonder Evan loved it.

The experience of reading alongside my child, laughing and learning with him, is one of the best things about homeschooling. I knew about Oliver Cromwell. But reading about him again with Evan, I learned some things (such as the fact above) that I never knew before. More important, as I revisited that period of history, I was struck by how familiar it all sounded. Consider this passage, just a few paragraphs after the one quoted above:

Cromwell still called England a commonwealth, but now it was being ruled by his own hand-picked men, not by the people of England. Six months later, this Nominated Assembly of men loyal to Cromwell passed a new bill. This bill announced, "Parliament now gives all of its powers to Oliver Cromwell, to act on behalf of the people of England!" 

Oliver Cromwell had become the new king of England.

He was never called "king." Instead, he was given the title Lord Protector of England. And he was supposed to call Parliament every two years and listen to what the members of Parliament advised him to do.

But Cromwell certainly seemed like a king. He moved his family into the royal palace. The ceremony to make him Lord Protector looked an awful lot like a coronation ceremony. His advisors often called him "Your Highness." And when Parliament refused to do exactly what he said, he scolded its members, telling them that he spoke for God and that they were opposing God Himself when they opposed the Lord Protector. "I undertook this government in the simplicity of my heart and as before God . . . to do the part of an honest man," he explained. "I speak for God and not for men." When Parliament continued to oppose Cromwell, he announced, "I think . . . that it is not for the profit of [England], nor for [the] common and public good, for you to continue here any longer. And therefore I do declare unto you, that I do dissolve this Parliament." 

No doubt you have heard the Santayana quote that those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it. More and more, I think that even those who do know history are doomed to repeat it. The older I get the more it seems that there are a few basic storylines that repeatedly play themselves out on the human stage, whether on the world level or in our little, everyday lives. Still, I think it's important to study history. But maybe the point of doing so is not because we realistically have much hope of affecting it, but so that we can better understand our place in it. And what is that place? I am beginning to think it is nothing more than to hold on for dear life as God tries, time and again, to show us the hopelessness of trusting in rulers, or institutions, or learning, or money, or even dear loved ones, more than in Him and His love for us. We have to function within the framework of all of those things. But our nature is to make each of them into little gods that we turn to as sources of meaning and progress for our lives. I know I keep doing that and I don't know how to stop myself. But reading stories from history that remind me of the futility of such misplaced faith tends to put the brakes on, at least for a time. 

This is blessing.

To have a realtor who, when you share some of your misgivings about the sale of your home ("What if something goes wrong?") responds as follows:

"And above all, your life and this deal are in the Lord's hands. So rejoice and have faith in the wonderful plans He has for you and your family! Living in faith is always exciting!"

Thank you, friend.

Best Laid Plans

Nothing went as it was supposed to this weekend. As each carefully laid plan fell apart, I felt extremely frustrated. But in retrospect I see how, once again, God worked it out for the best.

I had intended to go to St. Louis on Friday. Phillip was there for synodical board business as well as for the installation of Rev. Matt Harrison to his second term as our synodical president. It was going to be great to see my husband and attend the festivities! But Thursday night I got a call from the skilled nursing facility where my mom is receiving rehabilitation for her hip. Because of low hemoglobin that had not improved with treatment, they had decided to send her to the hospital Friday for a blood transfusion. I reluctantly cancelled my trip so as to be close by for that procedure.

The nurse had told me Thursday night that I would be informed when my mom was scheduled for her transfusion. As of 11:00 a.m. Friday there was no call so I left to run a few errands. At about 12:00 my daughter called me on the cell phone: "Mom, we are having a showing at 1:00!" Of course, the house wasn't ready. I raced home and we spent a frantic half hour putting things in order, then left to grab lunch and go to the park.

While we were out I called the rehab center, only to discover that my mom had already returned from the hospital. (Um, what about that phone call I was supposed to receive?) Not only that, when she arrived at the hospital, the lab work showed that her hemoglobin had risen sufficiently that she no longer needed the transfusion. Really? I could have gone on my trip after all? I suppose at this point I could have high-tailed it for St. Louis. But I wasn't packed. Not only that, when we returned home after our picnic lunch it was obvious no one had come to see the house. I called our agent, who called the other party's agent, only to discover they were running about an hour late. We got back in the car and left again, heading to a different park this time. We didn't get home again until after 3:00. It would have been after 4:00 by the time I could have left. I was tired and didn't see the point of driving all that way for such a short visit.

But someone else did see the point. Shortly after arriving home the second time, we got a call from Phillip. "Guess where I am?" he teased. The right answer turned out to be heading north on I-55! He got home about 7:30, having skipped out on the Friday night and Saturday morning installation festivities so that he could drive an additional eight hours to spend one night at home. What a guy. We waved him away at noon Saturday so that he could get back to Oklahoma in time to play for church Sunday morning.

So what was supposed to happen this weekend? Mom was supposed to get a blood transfusion but didn't. That is good! I was supposed to go to St. Louis but didn't. That is good, too! It not only enabled me to be here for the showing, but it led to Phillip's deciding to come home, which meant that not only did I get to see him, but so did the children.

And hey, even the showing that ran late by an hour was a good thing. If not for that, we wouldn't have made a second trip to the park, which means we wouldn't have met some really cool ducks.

Ducks from Cheryl on Vimeo.

God's Will

A few days ago one of the blogging pastors I follow wrote this post on the topic of God's will. In it he questions the belief of some Christians that God always has specific intentions for the decisions we make in our earthly lives and that if we are listening closely enough to Him it is possible for us to know those intentions. Rather than trying to quote from the article, I encourage you to read the whole thing. It is not only wise, but it is comforting. It lifts the burden of discerning and making the "right" decision, reminding the reader that God's eternal plan goes way beyond our day to day existence. "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28). Whether we take this job or that one, marry this person or that one, go to this school or that one, if we keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, He will bless.

I think a logical extension of this point is equally comforting. Not only should we not assume that God has specific intentions for every decision we make, but we should also not assume that the things that happen to us are necessarily His will. Once when my husband and I were going through a puzzling and difficult time I was told, "This is what God wants for you right now." The words came from a friend and were intended to offer comfort, but they didn't. So much about what was happening seemed wrong. How could it be God's will? At about the same time a different friend told my husband, "Expect blessing." What Gospel comfort that was to our troubled hearts! "Expect blessing!" There's no way to know whether the things that happen are God's will. There's no way to discern without a doubt what God wants us to do (if He even has a preference). But what we can know, because it is written throughout scripture, is that God blesses His children.

From Pastor Surburg (I guess I'm going to quote after all):

God's great "Yes!" to us in Christ gives us the assurance that God works for our good and that our decisions can't get in the way of God carrying out his will. It is comforting to know that our bumbling can't prevent God from doing what He wants to get done.  We needlessly torment ourselves if we worry about figuring out what God’s will is on these kinds of specific life decisions.  We can’t know it.  What we do know is the love God has revealed in Christ, and this guarantees that God is working for our good.  So pray, “Thy will be done.”  So make the best decision you can.  And then walk in faith, knowing that God will work out His purpose.

Trust

It's such an elusive thing, trust. What is it, exactly? A feeling? Or a decision? Whatever it is, one can't get through life without it. Simply crossing the street requires a goodly measure of it. But then comes that day when you trust that the oncoming car is going to stop for the red light and you step out in front of it, but guess what? The car doesn't stop. And you get mowed down. And for a long time after you are afraid to step into traffic again. But you realize you have no choice. You have to get to the other side of the street. You have to cross it. And so you put yourself out there again and hope with all your being that that car in the distance sees you and realizes you are not trying to get in its way--you are just trying to cross the street like the pedestrian you are.

Green light . . . . Go!

Life Update Number I-Don't-Even-Know

If you're friends with me on Facebook you already know some of this, but maybe not all, so if you want to make sure you are completely informed about the mundane trivialities of my existence you will have to read the whole post. :-)

We spent the Fourth at home. We generally don't go to see fireworks anywhere--for our introverted, highly sensitive group such an event is too crowded, noisy, and this year, too hot. So instead we stayed in and enjoyed a slower pace, watching some tennis, grilling some burgers, and working on a few house tasks. I returned to my kitchen painting project, which has been neglected for months now. It is a slow process because in one of my rare daring moments I decided it would be fun to have a red kitchen (Valspar Heirloom Red, to be precise). What was I even thinking? I know what I was thinking. I am going to love it when it's done. But everything is requiring a minimum of one coat of primer and two coats of paint. And my kitchen has a lot of corners, so this is going to take a while. (One of these days I'll post before and after pictures.)

In honor of Independence Day, we took time after supper to read the Declaration of Independence. Have you ever done that? If not, you should. It's not very long and is a classic example of inductive reasoning. And, oh yeah, it's how our country got started! 

After reading aloud together we gathered around the piano for some patriotic songs and Evan did some robust flag-waving. Then we wrapped up the evening with a few episodes of the Peanuts This is America, Charlie Brown DVD. (And I can't believe the price on that item! I know we didn't pay anywhere near that much!)

Caitlin is not pictured above as she is away this week attending Higher Things, an annual conference for Lutheran youth. She is going with our good friends from Nebraska. Pictured below is the handoff, somewhere on I-80. You can see that she fits right in with this group! Trevor is not attending Higher Things but was along for the ride, as Phillip took him to Lincoln for a summer lesson with his piano professor at University of Nebraska on this same trip. While they were in Lincoln, Phillip, Trevor and Caitlin took time to visit the Nebraska state capitol building and Caitlin got a little more familiar with the UNL campus. College is still several years away for her, but she is starting to compile a list of institutions to consider, and UNL is one.

Hey, I think I recognize those t-shirts! :-)

I was devastated by the Supreme Court decision on Obamacare this week. I am too devastated to blog about it. What were they even thinking?

In spite of the extreme temperatures our garden seems to be doing well. We have been enjoying our romaine lettuce for weeks now and have made one round of pesto. Several of the broccoli plants played out early but one is producing nicely. Parsley is looking good, tomatoes are starting to ripen and okra is hitting its stride. The jury is still out on the cucumbers, peas and beans, though.

Today I am leaving to drive part of the way to Missouri to pick up Caitlin. I will stay with an old, dear friend in Iowa tonight and get a much needed hug. Make that ten hugs. It has been a very difficult spring. I do not want to share details at this time, but if you are reading I would appreciate your prayers for our family. We are in need of God's direction for us, and until that direction is made known, patience and faith and peace of mind and spirit. But most of all, we could use some answers, and we could use them soon. We are boldly praying and would deeply appreciate your praying with us for some things in our lives to be resolved in the near future in a way that would lead to much rejoicing! Thank you for reading. Stay cool!

Can't Argue With That

For the last few months in family devotion we have been studying the Apostles' Creed. Right now Evan is memorizing the Third Article and its meaning. Today we focused on the first part of that meaning (from Luther's Small Catechism):

"I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him . . . . "

As we discussed the sentence above, this dialogue occurred:

Phillip - "Evan, do you believe in Jesus?"

Evan - "Yes."

Phillip - "But how can you do that? We just confessed that we cannot by our own reason or strength believe in Him. What makes you believe?"

Evan - "The Holy Spirit."

Phillip - "Very good, Evan! And how does the Holy Spirit do that?"

Evan - "In baptism."

Phillip - "Yes, that's right! And what gift did the Holy Spirit give you in baptism?"

Evan - "Believance."

Gifts for God

I am not sure what prompted this line of thinking, but lately Evan has been coming up with gift ideas for God. So far he has three:

1) A lamb with a gold crown and a string of pearls around its neck.

2) Seven mounds of diamonds.

3) A picture of our church.

I just think this is so cool.

Drive-By Post

I'm not supposed to be here. But this is such a cool story I have to drop in long enough to tell it.

Yesterday to wrap up a rather long, hard week we decided to treat ourselves to lunch out. Actually we didn't need to treat ourselves as our wonderful choir did so by virtue of the gift card they gave us for Christmas. So after church Phillip, Caitlin, Evan and I went here. There are several locations in Chicagoland; we went to the one in our neighborhood.

During lunch (which was wonderful) we struck up a conversation with out waiter, a charming young man in his twenties. As we talked, he volunteered that after graduating from high school he had left home for college but had a little trouble settling into a good routine. In his words, when he got out on his own he found himself rebelling somewhat against his "strict, conservative, Lutheran upbringing." As he shook his head with sincere regret we tried not to spew our water all over the table.

We told our new friend that we know all about strict, conservative, Lutheran upbringings because that's pretty much what we do, and we shared that we just happen to attend a strict, conservative, Lutheran church where my husband is Cantor. Imagine our surprise when he informed us that he graduated from our church's day school about 13 years ago. We just missed him by a year. We moved to this area 12 years ago.

Further conversation revealed that our waiter did not attend our church when he was younger but instead, along with his parents, attended a sister church in the area that is known for a more pop-oriented style of worship. His parents have since moved away and he is living on his own, working as a waiter, and trying to finish college. Of course we invited him to church. He asked for worship times (he needs to attend early so that he can get to the restaurant for his Sunday shift) and then wanted to know if the early service had traditional worship. We told him all our services have traditional worship and he smiled: "Good. I always liked that best."

As the meal progressed we continued to enjoy getting to know this interesting and intelligent young man. Before we left he made a point of double-checking the worship time and wrote it down, along with the website address of one of our pastors. As I consider the events that led to our ending up in that restaurant with that waiter on that day, I smile again in wonder at the perfect way that our Lord works, turning the seemingly random and chaotic pieces of our lives into a picture that not only makes sense but that has surpassing order and beauty. Please pray for a young man named Josh. We are hoping to see him again very soon.

Beyond His Years

Last night we had my youngest child's 8th birthday party. His birthday was actually last week, but we couldn't work it out to get together with friends until this weekend. We invited two families to join us at a nearby bowling alley for arcade fun, bowling, pizza and cake. My kid is the one with the goofy smile.

Last night on the way home in the car--it was just me and Evan because Dad and sister were in another car--Evan's joy was palpable. I am reminded of that old song, "My Cup Runneth Over." Evan's cup was definitely pouring out all over the back seat. He kept telling me how much he loved me and what a great day he had had and at one point said, "I'm happy I'm alive." I told him that he had many blessings and a thankful heart and he agreed.

Last night when it was time to go to bed we "snuggled" together for a long time. Suddenly Evan turned serious and mused aloud, "I guess I'll be too big for the children's museum soon." I told him of course he wouldn't--that there are adults going to the children's museum all the time. Then he stated, "I miss my younger days." I told him I did, too, a little. He responded: "But we can't reverse the days."

No, Evan, we can't.

"We can't time travel."

No, Evan, we can't time travel.

I asked him what he missed and he said he missed some of his old toys and sitting on my lap and his preschool class (even though we homeschool our children Evan went to the half day preschool at our church for a couple of years). I told him he could still sit on my lap and he said, "Yeah, but pretty soon I'll be too big to fit." Then he started to cry: "I miss Mrs. Bolt [his preschool teacher, who died several years ago from breast cancer]. And I miss Grandmother and Granddad. And I miss Trevor [his brother, who is away at college right now]." The sobs became loud and furious.

I hugged and comforted him, of course, and once he calmed down we talked. I told him I understood his sadness because the passing of time is a hard thing to accept, but we have no choice but to do so. God made him to grow and to some day grow up, and that is what he is going to do. I told him that parents are sad sometimes to see their babies grow up but that at the same time they are overjoyed to see all the wonderful things that come with those babies growing up and that I was so excited to see where life would be taking him. He took all this in and then said, "Some people don't have children."

"No, Evan, some people don't."

"That's sad."

"Yes, that's sad. But some people have a different calling. Not everyone gets married."

"But some people get married and still don't have children."

"That's right. For reasons we don't understand, God does not send children to all married people. It might be that He has other plans for them--other things that He wants them to do." I gave him the example of a faithful Lutheran couple in his life that do not have biological children but that have many, many people that they serve and care for in other ways, including spiritually. And then I told him that there are seasons of life--that there is a time for having babies and a time for not having babies. He looked up at me questioningly:

"We're not going to have another baby."

"No, we're not going to have another baby. Right now Dad's and my job is to take care of the babies we already have."

At that point the conversation took a different turn--I think it may have been to tell me about the Sponge Bob episode he watched earlier--and I instructed my newly minted 8-year-old to get his pajamas on and brush his teeth. We met in his room a little while later for bedtime story and prayers and I pulled out a family favorite: Love You Forever by Robert Munsch. I couldn't remember if I had ever read it to Evan. If I had, it had been a long time ago and he didn't remember either.

We started to read the book and already on the very first singing of the "Love You Forever" poem on the first page I started to choke up. But we forged ahead. I told Evan to keep his eye out for the kitty in the story, which is on every page until the boy in the story grows up and moves away from home, at which point that first kitty is nowhere to be found but a brand new baby kitten can be seen at the now grown up man's new house. Evan had fun looking for the kitty but I could tell he was taking the book very seriously. As we neared the end--the page where the man visits his old, sick mother and holds her on his lap--I wondered to myself, "Oh dear, what have I done? What was I thinking in pulling out this book?" I offered to put the book away and told Evan we could finish it another time. Amidst his tears, he said no. He wanted to read to the end.

I think that to the extent that an 8-year-old is able, he understood the book. He understood that some day that old lady with gray hair and glasses will be me and he will be the grown-up man who holds his elderly mother on his lap and sings her the "Love You Forever" song before going home to sing it again to his newborn baby girl. After we finished reading, tears streaming down both our faces, I told Evan that this book is about the passing of time and how we grieve the things we leave behind but how we pass those things on to our children, and our children pass them on to their children, and how it goes on forever and ever until the end of time. The book does not come from a Christian viewpoint, but I reminded Evan that the love that gets passed down through generations started with Jesus and will end with Jesus when we join Him in heaven.

With watery eyes, Evan looked at me. "That's a sad book, Mom."

"Yes, Evan, but it's a happy book, too."

"Yes, it's sad and happy. It's almost got too much sadness and happiness to take."

Welcome to the rest of your life, Evan.

He went to the shelf to get another book.

The Faith of a Child

Today at church I was visiting with a friend whose 87-year-old mother has been in the hospital. I asked my friend about his mother's condition and we talked for a little while as he filled me in on her health situation: pneumonia, erratic blood pressure, and degenerative heart disease. Evan, my 7-year-old, waited while we talked, but as we were wrapping up the conversation and my friend was starting to walk away it became clear that Evan had something he wanted to say.

"Mommy, Mommy!"

"Yes, Evan?"

"Does Mr. C_____ know about Honey-Nut Cheerios?"

"Um, I don't know, Evan. What about them?"

"They reduce the risk of heart disease!"

Wow. Evan hadn't just been waiting; he had been listening. My friend smiled at Evan, who was brimming with excitement to have this news to share (he knows the gentleman in question pretty well).

"Why, thank you, Evan! That is great to know!"

As my friend walked away, Evan smiled at me happily and said, "Maybe Mr. C_____'s mother will get better now!"

Sigh. If only it were so simple. And yet, when it comes to the thing that most ails us, it is. Honey-Nut Cheerios may not cure heart disease, but Jesus does cure sin. And we who are fed by Him have the great blessing of being able to share that Good News with others. May we do so with the faith and enthusiasm of a child, unquestioningly trusting in God's Word as a little boy trusts the label on his box of cereal.

Pass the Cheerios, please.

When Your Hut Is On Fire

This came to me from a family member. I appreciated the message and thought I would share it here in case there's anyone reading who, like me, feels like there watching one or more fires they can't put out.

When Your Hut Is On Fire

The only survivor of a shipwreck was washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He prayed feverishly for God to rescue him. Every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming. Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements, and to store his few possessions.

One day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, with smoke rolling up to the sky. He felt the worst had happened, and everything was lost. He was stunned with disbelief, grief, and anger. He cried out, 'God! How could you do this to me?

Early the next day, he was awakened by the sound of a ship approaching the island! It had come to rescue him! 'How did you know I was here?' asked the weary man of his rescuers. 'We saw your smoke signal,' they replied.

The moral of this story: It's easy to get discouraged when things are going bad, but we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of our pain and suffering. Remember that the next time your little hut seems to be burning to the ground. It just may be a smoke signal summoning the Grace of God.

The Living Years

I've always liked this song. It speaks of regrets--of things said and not said, of painful memories and memories dreamed of but never made. It reflects upon how quickly the years pass and calls upon us to cherish our time with loved ones while we are yet able. The song was co-written by Mike Rutherford and B. A. Robertson, both of whom had recently lost their fathers when it was composed. Naturally, it calls to mind my own father, and now, my father-in-law. It saddens me that my children have no memory of my father--my oldest was not even two years old when he died, and my other children came years after. But more and more I realize that the "living years" are not these earthly ones. These seem to me more aptly called the "surviving years"--the ones during which all we can do is cling to the cross of Christ and hold on for dear life. Thanks be to God that we are not so much holding on to Him as He is holding on to us. And thanks be to Him that He has promised never to let go, bringing us one day to the true "living years," where there will be no more regrets and no more longing, but only a perfect present in the eternal presence of the Creator.

Mike And The Mechanics -The Living Years

What's Your Name? - A Funeral Homily

As you know if you're a regular reader of this blog, my father-in-law died several weeks ago. I lost my own father many years ago, in 1994. Like my father-in-law, he did not speak often of matters of faith, and when he died I worried about that a lot. But also like my father-in-law, he had God's name placed upon him in Holy Baptism in his childhood, and although I didn't often see him in church or hear him speaking about God, I do know that he never renounced that baptism. During one of my last visits with him, when he was days from death and unable to speak, I whispered in his ear of God's great love for Him and my certainty that his God was watching over and caring for him, and he nodded. That, and now these words from my husband, spoken at his own father's funeral, have given me much comfort. I hope they may bring you comfort, too.

Grace, peace, and mercy be unto you from God our Father and from our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.

"What's your name?”

That's a question asked of us often in our lives. The answer tells people who we are. It tells people Whose we are, too.

For a long time Dad ran from his given name--Eddie--preferring to go by the more dignified-sounding Edward or Ed. That's actually something a lot of us do, as we take on nicknames, alter-egos, and noms de plumes. I know I've played a little with my name over the years, and so did Dad.

But in the end, when he was suffering in the hospital, he came back to the name his parents gave him--the name he still claimed when he was baptized.

God's a great name-changer. In the Bible people often have their names changed when they are called to serve Him as prophets, apostles, or evangelists. In Holy Baptism, God, the great “name-changer” does something even more valuable with our identities: He gives us HIS name, and places it upon our hearts. Adopted as His sons and daughters, we get to have our Brother's name--that is, Jesus' name. That's why many Christians make the sign of the cross, by the way. It tells people who we are. It tells people whose we are.

Of course, Dad wasn't what we might call a "crosser." I doubt He ever physically made the sign of the cross. He was raised Baptist, and that's not their custom. In fact, as we all know, Dad ran not just from the name “Eddie” but also from his baptismal identity for many years. But God's name is a funny and wonderful thing: it doesn't go away. And wherever God's name is, There He is.

You see, God cannot evacuate His name. And so He is always there to be called upon. Yes, He can be disowned. For ceremonial reasons the Verse before the Gospel in the liturgy today glosses over God's Law that God does disown those who disown Him. And that is His word of warning for us today. But that doesn't mean He goes away or gives up on us. The Verse continues: “If we are faithless, He will remain faithful, for He cannot disown Himself.” Even Peter disowned our Lord three times--only to be forgiven and restored just as Christians are each day when we remember our Baptisms and call upon God's Name.

I heard Dad call upon the Lord the last day I was with him. And as I left he thanked me for my prayers for him. He gave us all hope that just as he was returning to be called “Eddie” in the end, he was also returning to the Name that was placed upon His heart, and placing his hope in the one whose strong Word named him and claimed him so many years ago.

I chose our readings today to encourage us in this hope. The prophet Isaiah encourages us with God's promise that His Word “will not return empty, but accomplish the purposes for which I sent it.” The Psalmist is languishing with bones in anguish--just as Dad's bones were in anguish from the cancer that killed him--and yet rejoicing comes as the Lord hears the cry of his child, David, and the enemies are defeated.

That doesn't mean we don't die. The enemy is really not sickness and death. Think about it: all the people Jesus healed of their diseases ultimately got sick and died. No, as the catechism teaches us, the enemies are the devil, the world, and our own, sinful nature. For they think the justice of God's name is scandalous! They say, “How dare the Lord say to the thief on the cross, 'Today you will be with me in paradise'?"

Old Adam wants to justify himself by works, so that he can deceive himself with “I'm better than the that guy.” Ever notice than when it's up to the Adams, everyone is above average?! But in God's love His justice doesn't work that way. He doesn't draw the line somewhere in the middle, but draws it way at the top so that NONE of us measure up. The only one who measures up is the perfect one: Jesus Christ, the New Adam who died on the cross and paid the full sacrifice for all our sins. This way no one can boast. We all become beggars before God. This is the only way He can deal with us, and thanks be to God that He does. For if we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. But if we confess our sins, God, who is faithful and just, will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

And so God gives us His righteousness. It's what theologians call The Great Exchange. He doesn't see us according to the names the world gives us. He sees us according to the name HE give us, and hears His children when they call upon His name. It doesn't matter whether someone believes longer or believes stronger. Such thinking turns faith into work. But faith is not a work of man. Rather, it is a gift from God. And the gift we receive by the Holy Spirit, the gift we inherit in our baptisms, is a gift that keeps on giving. Even when WE are faithless, GOD remains faithful. He is the giver of faith. And just as He cannot evacuate His name; He cannot disown Himself.

And so that's our Good News for today. If you aren't calling upon God's Name today, what's stopping you? The devil, the world, your sinful nature? They are all defeated! Return to the Lord your God, for He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.

Call upon His name. Just as Eddie did.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

A Light in the Darkness

I promised a few weeks ago to share a bit about my father-in-law's funeral. My father-in-law did not have a church affiliation when he died. In fact, he had little to say at all about matters of faith or his own relationship with God, a fact which has troubled the hearts of those who loved him. Ironic it is, then, that one of those troubled hearts was also the voice through which came the comfort of God's Word. For it was my husband--a church cantor, not a pastor--who officiated at his own father's funeral, serving as organist, liturgist, and homilist.

The funeral was held in a free-standing chapel at a Houston funeral home and cemetery. The assembly was small--just a few friends and family. When we entered the chapel and took our seat, my five-year-old's first question was, "Where are the hymnals?" (I guess you can tell he's Lutheran.) His next question, as he saw his father preparing to lead the service was, "Is Daddy going to be the pastor?" I responded, "Yes, honey, Daddy's going to be the pastor today" to which he replied, worried, "But I don't think Daddy knows how to be a pastor yet." (You can see he also has a proper respect for the office of the ministry.) I smiled and said, "Don't worry, honey; God will help him."

Evan also expressed concern when he realized his big brother would be assisting with the liturgy. ("But I don't think Trevor knows how to be a cantor yet.") Guess he has a healthy regard for church musicians, too! I assured him that Trevor had already had a lot of practice with the liturgy and would be just fine.

The service began with an invocation and the words of St. Paul: "Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life." (Romans 6:3-4)

Next came the hymn "Eternal Father, Strong to Save," followed by the Kyrie, Salutation and Collect. The Old Testament reading came from Isaiah:

"Seek the LORD while he may be found;
call upon him while he is near;
let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts;
let him return to the LORD, that he may have compassion on him,
and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.
For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven
and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it." (55: 6-11)

Then followed Psalm 6, read by granddaughters Sophie and Caitlin:

"O LORD, rebuke me not in your anger,
nor discipline me in your wrath.
Be gracious to me, O LORD, for I am languishing;
heal me, O LORD, for my bones are troubled.
My soul also is greatly troubled.
But you, O LORD—how long?
Turn, O LORD, deliver my life;
save me for the sake of your steadfast love.
For in death there is no remembrance of you; in Sheol who will give you praise?
I am weary with my moaning;
every night I flood my bed with tears;
I drench my couch with my weeping.
My eye wastes away because of grief;
it grows weak because of all my foes.
Depart from me, all you workers of evil,
for the LORD has heard the sound of my weeping.
The LORD has heard my plea;
the LORD accepts my prayer.
All my enemies shall be ashamed and greatly troubled;
they shall turn back and be put to shame in a moment."

The epistle was Ephesians 2:1-10:

"And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience—among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them."

And the Gospel, Luke 23:26-43:

"And as they led him away, they seized one Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, and laid on him the cross, to carry it behind Jesus. And there followed him a great multitude of the people and of women who were mourning and lamenting for him. But turning to them Jesus said, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For behold, the days are coming when they will say, 'Blessed are the barren and the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!' Then they will begin to say to the mountains, 'Fall on us,' and to the hills, 'Cover us.' For if they do these things when the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?
"Two others, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him. And when they came to the place that is called The Skull, there they crucified him, and the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. And Jesus said, 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.' And they cast lots to divide his garments. And the people stood by, watching, but the rulers scoffed at him, saying, 'He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!' The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine and saying, 'If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!' There was also an inscription over him, 'This is the King of the Jews.'
One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, 'Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!' But the other rebuked him, saying, 'Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.' And he said, Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.' And he said to him, 'Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.'

Then followed the Apostles' Creed, Homily, Hymn ("Jesus Loves Me"), Prayer of the Church, the Lord's Prayer, the Canticle of Commendation, the Benidicamus & Benediction, the Presentation of Colors, and the Dismissal. The Canticle of Commendation, a combination of John 11:25-26 ("I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die") and the Nunc Dimittis from Luke 2:29-32, the Song of Simeon, was sung in four-part harmony by my husband, oldest son, daughter, and myself:

"Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace according to Thy word.
For mine eyes have seen Thy salvation, which Thou has prepared before the face all all people.
A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of Thy people Israel.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen."

Fixated as I was on the hymnal while simultaneously trying to sing the alto line and maintain my composure, I did not notice what my husband and several others observed: that when we began the Gloria Patri (the final two lines above), the room suddenly became brighter as the sun chose that moment to break from behind the clouds and shine through the windows of the chapel. Coincidence? If you like. I think otherwise.

In my next post I'll share some of my husband's thoughts as he preached a homily of Law and Gospel that would make any Lutheran pastor nod in approval and that filled me with a wife's pride, a laywoman's awe, and a sinner's comfort.