"A Lamb Goes Uncomplaining Forth" (LSB 438) from Cheryl on Vimeo.
"His Love Is Everlasting" (Psalm 136) - Setting by Marty Haugen from Cheryl on Vimeo.
(There is no picture for this one, just audio.)
"O Sacred Head, Now Wounded" from Cheryl on Vimeo.
Easter Vigil Procession, Immanuel Lutheran Church, Broken Arrow, OK from Cheryl on Vimeo.
"Come All Ye Thirsty" from Cheryl on Vimeo.
Click here for "Jesus Christ is Ris'n Today." (I could not get it to embed.)
"This Is the Day" (Psalm 118) from Cheryl on Vimeo.
Be Ye Glad from Paul-Andrew Cromer on Vimeo.
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Thursday, March 24, 2016
A Hundred Little Occasions
"Oliver turned homeward, thinking on the many kindnesses he had received from the young lady, and wishing that time could come over again, that he might never cease showing her how grateful and attached he was. He had no cause for self-reproach on the score of neglect, or want of thought, for he had been devoted to her service; and yet a hundred little occasions rose up before him, on which he fancied he might have been more zealous, and more earnest, and wished he had been. We need be careful how we deal with those about us, when every death carries to some small circle of survivors, thoughts of so much omitted, and so little done - of so many things forgotten, and so many more which might have been repaired! There is no remorse so deep as that which is unavailing; if we would be spared its tortures, let us remember this, in time."
Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist, Chapter 33
Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist, Chapter 33
Tuesday, March 22, 2016
Four Weeks Later
Last night was the four-week mark since Mom's death. Everyone is doing okay. We encounter daily reminders of her absence--bumping up against things in the pantry or refrigerator that were hers, or hearing a noise in the house and briefly attributing it to her before remembering that, oh yeah, she's not here anymore. But we know that she is TODAY in Paradise, and the comfort that brings covers all the sadness. I give thanks that she lived for 85 years and that her life was a testament to the preciousness of life and to God's care of His children. Going through some of my mom's things I found her baptismal certificate. She wasn't baptized until she was 30. I didn't know that before (or if I did, I forgot). At the time, she was living in Japan with her first husband, who was stationed there. By that time she had six children, all of whom had been baptized. But she hadn't been. I wish I knew the story there. Did she think she was baptized and found out she wasn't? In any case, it is another way her own parents failed her. But the Lord did not fail her. He claimed her and called her and made her His own. Thanks be to God.
In the last few years of her life Mom became increasingly thin. It was a major contributing factor to her always feeling cold. Lately I find myself thinking of her in her casket in the earth, where it must be cold. She doesn't have a sweater! I need to constantly remind myself she's not there. She's not cold. She's bathing in the warmth of her Savior.
Of all the old pictures I have come across of her over the past month, I think this is my favorite.
In the last few years of her life Mom became increasingly thin. It was a major contributing factor to her always feeling cold. Lately I find myself thinking of her in her casket in the earth, where it must be cold. She doesn't have a sweater! I need to constantly remind myself she's not there. She's not cold. She's bathing in the warmth of her Savior.
Of all the old pictures I have come across of her over the past month, I think this is my favorite.
Monday, February 29, 2016
Funeral Sermon for Barbara Lou Hollis
Rev. John Wilke, preacher
If a picture paints a thousand words, then what words does this picture paint? This picture of Barbara’s hand being held by a daughter is a scene no doubt repeated many times through her life. But I would guess more often than naught, it was Barbara, the mother, whose hand would hold her daughter's.
The hand of a mother does many things throughout the life of a child. When the child is still an infant, that mother’s hand reaches out to grasp those tiny fingers as if to say, “It’s all going to be okay.” And in the middle of the night when a daughter is fearful, that mother’s hand reaches out and brings safety and security. A mother’s hand can, in one moment, be raised in discipline, and then in the next be found wiping away tears. A mother’s hand offers unconditional love to the child scorned by others. A mother’s hand offers guidance to that unstable baby taking those first few steps. A mother’s hand, every wrinkle and every scar or swollen joint, is a sign of love.
But a mother’s hand also bears the signs of sin. And in this picture, the frail hand of Barbara serves as a clear reminder to us of the curse of sin. This hand is aged, this hand is weary, and this hand is clinging to her daughter’s as life is slipping away. Death is that sure and certain reminder of sin; both in our world and in our lives.
But there is another set of hands we can picture today. Those hands were described to us in our gospel reading. The first set of hands belong to a doubter named Thomas. He cannot believe in the Lord’s resurrection unless his eyes can see and his hands can touch the wounds of his savior.
So our hands and Barbara’s hands begin life as the hands of a doubting Thomas. We cannot believe what we cannot see, we cannot trust what we cannot understand. We live in doubt and disbelief, leading to despair and death. Unless a hand reaches out save us we have no hope.
The other hands in our gospel today are the hands of Jesus. They are scarred and bloody with the wounds of crucifixion. They are the hands of a dead man now living. Those hands of Jesus, the hands of Thomas’ Lord and God, are the hands of our salvation.
It is Jesus, who reaches down into humanity, down into our lives and grabs our hands. He reaches down to hold our hand because our human hand in its weakened, sinful state cannot reach up. He holds onto our hands because our grasp is too frail.
The hands of Jesus, like the hands of mother, do many things for each of us. Those hands were stretched out upon the cross, pierced by nails all for our sake. In baptism that hand of Jesus traced upon our foreheads and our hearts the sign of the cross marking us and Barbara as one redeemed.
The hand of Jesus, through the preaching of the Word, has been raised to us in discipline, calling us to repentance. And then that same hand reaches down in grace and mercy to place Jesus’ own body and blood upon our lips that we might be forgiven. When we are frightened and afflicted by the events of this world, the hand of Jesus reaches out and takes hold of our hand and walks us through the valleys of this life.
And as we begin to lose our grip on this life and this world, the hand of Jesus even more holds onto our hand. The strong hand of our savior leads us safely through the valley of the shadow of death so that we need not fear. His hands lead us gently into the loving arms of our waiting heavenly Father.
On Valentine’s Day, I met with Barbara and commended her to the Lord. In her room we read the words of Psalm 31. There together we prayed, “Into your hands I commend my spirit, you have redeemed me. O LORD faithful God.” In death Barbara was entrusted into the hands of her heavenly Father who so graciously provided for her in this life through the hands of Jesus.
Even now, in the midst of things we cannot fully understand Jesus comes with hands of love and tender mercy. He comes to the grieving that he might wipe away their tears in the promise of heaven where there will be no more crying and no more tears. In life and death the Lord held Barbara’s hand and so he will for us as well. May the hand of God rest upon all who grieve and mourn that they might know his grace and mercy.
If a picture paints a thousand words, then what words does this picture paint? This picture of Barbara’s hand being held by a daughter is a scene no doubt repeated many times through her life. But I would guess more often than naught, it was Barbara, the mother, whose hand would hold her daughter's.
The hand of a mother does many things throughout the life of a child. When the child is still an infant, that mother’s hand reaches out to grasp those tiny fingers as if to say, “It’s all going to be okay.” And in the middle of the night when a daughter is fearful, that mother’s hand reaches out and brings safety and security. A mother’s hand can, in one moment, be raised in discipline, and then in the next be found wiping away tears. A mother’s hand offers unconditional love to the child scorned by others. A mother’s hand offers guidance to that unstable baby taking those first few steps. A mother’s hand, every wrinkle and every scar or swollen joint, is a sign of love.
But a mother’s hand also bears the signs of sin. And in this picture, the frail hand of Barbara serves as a clear reminder to us of the curse of sin. This hand is aged, this hand is weary, and this hand is clinging to her daughter’s as life is slipping away. Death is that sure and certain reminder of sin; both in our world and in our lives.
But there is another set of hands we can picture today. Those hands were described to us in our gospel reading. The first set of hands belong to a doubter named Thomas. He cannot believe in the Lord’s resurrection unless his eyes can see and his hands can touch the wounds of his savior.
So our hands and Barbara’s hands begin life as the hands of a doubting Thomas. We cannot believe what we cannot see, we cannot trust what we cannot understand. We live in doubt and disbelief, leading to despair and death. Unless a hand reaches out save us we have no hope.
The other hands in our gospel today are the hands of Jesus. They are scarred and bloody with the wounds of crucifixion. They are the hands of a dead man now living. Those hands of Jesus, the hands of Thomas’ Lord and God, are the hands of our salvation.
It is Jesus, who reaches down into humanity, down into our lives and grabs our hands. He reaches down to hold our hand because our human hand in its weakened, sinful state cannot reach up. He holds onto our hands because our grasp is too frail.
The hands of Jesus, like the hands of mother, do many things for each of us. Those hands were stretched out upon the cross, pierced by nails all for our sake. In baptism that hand of Jesus traced upon our foreheads and our hearts the sign of the cross marking us and Barbara as one redeemed.
The hand of Jesus, through the preaching of the Word, has been raised to us in discipline, calling us to repentance. And then that same hand reaches down in grace and mercy to place Jesus’ own body and blood upon our lips that we might be forgiven. When we are frightened and afflicted by the events of this world, the hand of Jesus reaches out and takes hold of our hand and walks us through the valleys of this life.
And as we begin to lose our grip on this life and this world, the hand of Jesus even more holds onto our hand. The strong hand of our savior leads us safely through the valley of the shadow of death so that we need not fear. His hands lead us gently into the loving arms of our waiting heavenly Father.
On Valentine’s Day, I met with Barbara and commended her to the Lord. In her room we read the words of Psalm 31. There together we prayed, “Into your hands I commend my spirit, you have redeemed me. O LORD faithful God.” In death Barbara was entrusted into the hands of her heavenly Father who so graciously provided for her in this life through the hands of Jesus.
Even now, in the midst of things we cannot fully understand Jesus comes with hands of love and tender mercy. He comes to the grieving that he might wipe away their tears in the promise of heaven where there will be no more crying and no more tears. In life and death the Lord held Barbara’s hand and so he will for us as well. May the hand of God rest upon all who grieve and mourn that they might know his grace and mercy.
Funeral Service of Barbara Lou Hollis, February 27, 2016
Preservice Meditation - "Savior, Like a Shepherd Lead Us"
Cheryl Magness, piano
Prelude - "I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say"
Bianca Wilke, soprano
Phillip Magness, piano
Invocation
Hymn - "And There's Another Country"
Kyrie
Salutation and Collect of the Day
First Reading - Job 19:23-27
Psalm 27 - "The Lord is My Light" (David Haas)
Bianca Wilke and Kyle Lowry, vocals
Phillip Magness, vocal/piano
Second Reading - 1 Cor. 15:50-58
Verse - Rev. 1:5-6; 2 Tim. 2:11b, 12a. 13
Holy Gospel - John 20:24-29
The Apostles' Creed
Hymn - "Amazing Grace"
Phillip Magness, piano
Sermon - Rev. John Wilke
Hymn - "Jerusalem, My Happy Home"
Kyle Lowry and Phillip Magness, soloists
Prayer of the Church
The Lord's Prayer
Canticle of Commendation - Nunc Dimittis
Phillip, Cheryl, Trevor, Caitlin and Evan Magness, choir
Collect
Benedicamus and Benediction
Recessional Hymn - "If Christ Had Not Been Raised"
Postlude - "Lord, Take My Hand and Lead Me"
Organist for the Service was Phillip Magness.
Crucifer, Wes Beasley
Immanuel Lutheran Church, Broken Arrow, OK
Cheryl Magness, piano
Prelude - "I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say"
Bianca Wilke, soprano
Phillip Magness, piano
Invocation
Hymn - "And There's Another Country"
Kyrie
Salutation and Collect of the Day
First Reading - Job 19:23-27
Psalm 27 - "The Lord is My Light" (David Haas)
Bianca Wilke and Kyle Lowry, vocals
Phillip Magness, vocal/piano
Second Reading - 1 Cor. 15:50-58
Verse - Rev. 1:5-6; 2 Tim. 2:11b, 12a. 13
Holy Gospel - John 20:24-29
The Apostles' Creed
Hymn - "Amazing Grace"
Phillip Magness, piano
Sermon - Rev. John Wilke
Hymn - "Jerusalem, My Happy Home"
Kyle Lowry and Phillip Magness, soloists
Prayer of the Church
The Lord's Prayer
Canticle of Commendation - Nunc Dimittis
Phillip, Cheryl, Trevor, Caitlin and Evan Magness, choir
Collect
Benedicamus and Benediction
Recessional Hymn - "If Christ Had Not Been Raised"
Postlude - "Lord, Take My Hand and Lead Me"
Organist for the Service was Phillip Magness.
Crucifer, Wes Beasley
Immanuel Lutheran Church, Broken Arrow, OK
Sunday, February 21, 2016
Hands
Writing this down so I don't forget it.
The pic is from last week at the nursing home, but last night I was sitting with my mom in much the same way, holding her hand, when she told me my hands were cold. (Actually they weren't--hers were--but I don't argue with my mama these days.)
I let go of her hand I was holding and put it under the blanket. A few minutes later she asked, "Where are your hands?"
I showed her. "Right here, Mom."
Then she asked, "Where are your daddy's hands?" (Earlier in the day she had asked where my daddy was. He died 22 years ago.) I told her, "Daddy's hands are in heaven, with him."
Then she asked, "Where are my [her] hands?" I couldn't help giggling a little as I showed her her own hands.
Later I was talking to Evan (my 12-year-old) and told him about the whole exchange, which I took to be indicative of her confusion. He said, "That's kind of like when I was a baby and you would ask me where everything was: Where's your nose? Where are your eyes? Where are your fingers? Where are your toes? Where are your hands?"
Oh. Wow. Confusion? Maybe. Or maybe, memories.
Update, one year later: I just had another memory about hands that happened after this post was written. Just a little while before she died I was holding my mom's hand. Suddenly she started squeezing mine--hard! So hard! I didn't know she had that much strength left in her. I don't know if she knew she was about to go and was saying goodbye or trying to hold on. But I will never forget that squeeze.
Keeping Vigil
My mom has come home from rehab and is now under hospice care. We have entered a time of waiting.
We grieve that it has come to this and that we were not able to bring home a healthier, stronger patient. But we also look at it as an incredible gift. We have been given the opportunity to prepare. Phone calls have been made. Visits are being planned. Most important of all, we have been provided a chance to say a proper goodbye. There are so many who don't get that.
I am not sure how long the time of waiting will be. That is in the Lord's hands. We are taking steps now to adjust our various schedules so Mom is not alone, including lining up some volunteers from church to sit with her when both my husband and I need to be at a service. With Lent upon us and Holy Week and Easter on the horizon, there are a number of times when we both have responsibilities.
If you pray, please pray for peace: peace in our home, peace for my mom, and peace at the last.
We grieve that it has come to this and that we were not able to bring home a healthier, stronger patient. But we also look at it as an incredible gift. We have been given the opportunity to prepare. Phone calls have been made. Visits are being planned. Most important of all, we have been provided a chance to say a proper goodbye. There are so many who don't get that.
I am not sure how long the time of waiting will be. That is in the Lord's hands. We are taking steps now to adjust our various schedules so Mom is not alone, including lining up some volunteers from church to sit with her when both my husband and I need to be at a service. With Lent upon us and Holy Week and Easter on the horizon, there are a number of times when we both have responsibilities.
If you pray, please pray for peace: peace in our home, peace for my mom, and peace at the last.
Saturday, February 13, 2016
My Mom
The pictures are a rerun from Mothers Day, 2009. My mom is not doing well. She has been in hospital/skilled nursing care after fainting due to a urinary tract infection about 4-1/2 weeks ago. Since that time she has lost weight and mobility. Today we found out the UTI has returned. I would appreciate your prayers for healing and encouragement.
Me and Mom leaving the hospital, July 1964
Christmas 1981, departing for Midnight Mass
The Lord is my light and my salvation;
whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life;
of whom shall I be afraid?
whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life;
of whom shall I be afraid?
When evildoers assail me
to eat up my flesh,
my adversaries and foes,
it is they who stumble and fall.
to eat up my flesh,
my adversaries and foes,
it is they who stumble and fall.
Though an army encamp against me,
my heart shall not fear;
though war arise against me,
yet I will be confident.
my heart shall not fear;
though war arise against me,
yet I will be confident.
One thing have I asked of the Lord,
that will I seek after:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord
and to inquire in his temple.
that will I seek after:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord
and to inquire in his temple.
For he will hide me in his shelter
in the day of trouble;
he will conceal me under the cover of his tent;
he will lift me high upon a rock.
in the day of trouble;
he will conceal me under the cover of his tent;
he will lift me high upon a rock.
And now my head shall be lifted up
above my enemies all around me,
and I will offer in his tent
sacrifices with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make melody to the Lord.
above my enemies all around me,
and I will offer in his tent
sacrifices with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make melody to the Lord.
Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud;
be gracious to me and answer me!
You have said, “Seek my face.”
My heart says to you,
“Your face, Lord, do I seek.”
Hide not your face from me.
Turn not your servant away in anger,
O you who have been my help.
Cast me not off; forsake me not,
O God of my salvation!
For my father and my mother have forsaken me,
but the Lord will take me in.
be gracious to me and answer me!
You have said, “Seek my face.”
My heart says to you,
“Your face, Lord, do I seek.”
Hide not your face from me.
Turn not your servant away in anger,
O you who have been my help.
Cast me not off; forsake me not,
O God of my salvation!
For my father and my mother have forsaken me,
but the Lord will take me in.
Teach me your way, O Lord,
and lead me on a level path
because of my enemies.
Give me not up to the will of my adversaries;
for false witnesses have risen against me,
and they breathe out violence.
and lead me on a level path
because of my enemies.
Give me not up to the will of my adversaries;
for false witnesses have risen against me,
and they breathe out violence.
I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living!
Wait for the Lord;
be strong, and let your heart take courage;
wait for the Lord!
(Psalm 27)
in the land of the living!
Wait for the Lord;
be strong, and let your heart take courage;
wait for the Lord!
(Psalm 27)
Me and Mom leaving the hospital, July 1964
(the photo spent a number of years in a circular frame--thus, the unfortunate fading)
Christmas 1981, departing for Midnight Mass
At my college senior piano recital, 1986
Wedding, 1987
Grandma, Trevor, Caitlin, and Giselle, 1998
Grandma & Evan, 2003
Friday, February 5, 2016
First Political Post in a Long Time
The last time we had a Presidential election I began posting about it early on. This time around I have thus far not said much in this space. To date I have not officially endorsed a candidate. I think I have refrained so far because 1) I have to some degree lost my stomach for politics, and 2) Right now what I desire more than anything is conservative unity and I will take any of the GOP candidates over another Democrat term.
Having said that, here are a few thoughts for today. Early on I liked Carly Fiorina. I still do. But she has disappointed me the last few months, most recently in a Facebook post she put up yesterday that claimed she was different from Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio, who, according to her, will do and say anything to get elected so that they can get a bigger office and more impressive title. That left a very bad taste in my mouth. I like both Cruz and Rubio and would be happy to call either of them President. I think they are in this because they want to help the country.
In contrast to Fiorina's petty sniping, Cruz today called upon ABC to allow Fiorina on the stage for the next major Republican debate. My respect for him just went up even more. That is the action of a gentleman and a statesman and I tip my hat to him.
Having said that, here are a few thoughts for today. Early on I liked Carly Fiorina. I still do. But she has disappointed me the last few months, most recently in a Facebook post she put up yesterday that claimed she was different from Ted Cruz and Marco Rubio, who, according to her, will do and say anything to get elected so that they can get a bigger office and more impressive title. That left a very bad taste in my mouth. I like both Cruz and Rubio and would be happy to call either of them President. I think they are in this because they want to help the country.
In contrast to Fiorina's petty sniping, Cruz today called upon ABC to allow Fiorina on the stage for the next major Republican debate. My respect for him just went up even more. That is the action of a gentleman and a statesman and I tip my hat to him.
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
That moment . . .
. . . when you find yourself feeling blue because
--almost the whole left side of your body hurts due to a foot that probably needs surgery
--you are afraid of having surgery
--your refurbished laptop is broken and the place you bought it from is not coming through with warranty service
--you want to write but your laptop is broken
--you want to write but you can't seem to find the time or focus
--you have this blog that you don't know what to do with anymore
--your mom who lives with you does not like the new house, or much of anything at all
--you realize the college kids are leaving in about a week
--you're feeling and looking old
--you realize that the normal routine is about to return and you didn't get done nearly what you wanted over break
--your 4-year-old car that is taking in water when it rains just passed the 100,000 mark
--you feel utterly guilty and stupid about feeling blue because not only is it Christmas, but you have a great new house, a great husband, great kids, a great church, and overall good health, so what business do you have feeling sad, you big dumb ungrateful ninny?
--almost the whole left side of your body hurts due to a foot that probably needs surgery
--you are afraid of having surgery
--your refurbished laptop is broken and the place you bought it from is not coming through with warranty service
--you want to write but your laptop is broken
--you want to write but you can't seem to find the time or focus
--you have this blog that you don't know what to do with anymore
--your mom who lives with you does not like the new house, or much of anything at all
--you realize the college kids are leaving in about a week
--you're feeling and looking old
--you realize that the normal routine is about to return and you didn't get done nearly what you wanted over break
--your 4-year-old car that is taking in water when it rains just passed the 100,000 mark
--you feel utterly guilty and stupid about feeling blue because not only is it Christmas, but you have a great new house, a great husband, great kids, a great church, and overall good health, so what business do you have feeling sad, you big dumb ungrateful ninny?
Saturday, December 12, 2015
Good Morning!
Three minutes of beauty for your day. I hope you enjoy.
Photo taken December 10, 2015
Will there really be a "Morning"?
Is there such a thing as "Day"?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?
Has it feet like Water lilies?
Has it feathers like a Bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?
Oh some Scholar! Oh some Sailor!
Oh some Wise Men from the skies!
Please to tell a little Pilgrim
Where the place called "Morning" lies!
Is there such a thing as "Day"?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?
Has it feet like Water lilies?
Has it feathers like a Bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?
Oh some Scholar! Oh some Sailor!
Oh some Wise Men from the skies!
Please to tell a little Pilgrim
Where the place called "Morning" lies!
Emily Dickinson
Saturday, December 5, 2015
We are in!
Hello! Long time, no blog! We have been just a tad busy the last month with buying and moving into a new home. Have you ever been so happy that you think it can't possibly last--that certainly something is just around the corner waiting to mess it all up? That is kind of where I am right now. I'm a little afraid to just let myself be happy. But I'm working at it. And it turns out that it doesn't take all that much effort. :-)
If we are Facebook friends you have probably seen many of these pictures. For you who eschew that particular corner of the internet, here is a pictorial walk through the last few weeks.
First items in (the book was a housewarming gift from a dear friend)
Boy and dog explore new surroundings
The Nordiska approves.
Our means of refrigeration for about 5 days while waiting for more modern replacement.
Much better!
If he ever gets fired from this cantor gig (stranger things have happened) he can get a job on "The Price is Right" or "Wheel of Fortune."
View out my bedroom window. :-)
New washer/dryer!
I have my work cut out for me.
Homeowners again! (Glad to have a home warranty to go along with the keys and garage door openers.)
Monday, November 9, 2015
I tried.
Evan: My life ends in four weeks.
Me: What? What do you mean?
Evan: That's when I have to play organ for church.
Me: Oh, Evan. You're going to do fine. But if you make a mistake, it's okay. Everyone makes mistakes. That's actually one of the wonderful things about live music--that it's living and breathing and imperfect. Recorded music sometimes has all the life erased and dubbed out of it. Live music is human, and humans make mistakes. We aren't machines.
Evan: Well, technically we are. Don't you remember Schoolhouse Rock?
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Truth
It is sometimes pointed out that a synod, or church body, is a human institution and that as such, it can err. This is most certainly true. But the reason it is true is that human beings can err. When it comes to the question, then, of where to place my trust on matters of doctrine, I have more confidence in the wisdom of a group of theologians than I do in one theologian. To grant one person the final word on anything is dangerous. To assume that you are the person who possesses that final word is equally dangerous.
In the words of Huckleberry Finn: "I can't stand it. I been there before." And I have no intention of ever going back.
In the words of Huckleberry Finn: "I can't stand it. I been there before." And I have no intention of ever going back.
Thursday, October 8, 2015
J. Alfred, Rebutted
About 3-1/2 years ago our world fell apart. I won't rehash the details here. The point of this post is not to look back, but to look forward.
When everything around which you have built a life comes crashing down, it can be a little difficult to find your balance again. It is hard to trust, and I don't mean only others, although that is part of it. It is also hard to trust yourself. How could you have been so stupid, so blind, as to not see what was coming? How could you have gotten everything so wrong? In an effort to not go through that again you start second, third, and fourth guessing every decision. You hand-wring and agonize and ask yourself, Prufrock-style, "Do I dare?" You look for some celestial sign that now, finally, you have got it right.
Problem is, that's what got you into trouble in the first place: putting your faith in men, and their plans and promises, instead of in God, and looking for that shiny, new idol to replace the one that was shattered. For human beings, it's a daily challenge and struggle, one we will always face this side of heaven.
Still, though the challenge remains, there is such a thing as growing in wisdom and learning from one's mistakes. There is such a thing as waking up one day to realize that the answer you have been seeking is not in Oz but right in front of you, in the good people who have been loving you while you were skipping down the yellow brick road trying to find your heart's desire. There is such a thing as realizing that the struggle itself is a gift, reminding you as it does of the danger of idols and the need to fix your eyes on Jesus rather than on your own silly human efforts.
Oh, and there is also such a thing as new beginnings.
When everything around which you have built a life comes crashing down, it can be a little difficult to find your balance again. It is hard to trust, and I don't mean only others, although that is part of it. It is also hard to trust yourself. How could you have been so stupid, so blind, as to not see what was coming? How could you have gotten everything so wrong? In an effort to not go through that again you start second, third, and fourth guessing every decision. You hand-wring and agonize and ask yourself, Prufrock-style, "Do I dare?" You look for some celestial sign that now, finally, you have got it right.
Problem is, that's what got you into trouble in the first place: putting your faith in men, and their plans and promises, instead of in God, and looking for that shiny, new idol to replace the one that was shattered. For human beings, it's a daily challenge and struggle, one we will always face this side of heaven.
Still, though the challenge remains, there is such a thing as growing in wisdom and learning from one's mistakes. There is such a thing as waking up one day to realize that the answer you have been seeking is not in Oz but right in front of you, in the good people who have been loving you while you were skipping down the yellow brick road trying to find your heart's desire. There is such a thing as realizing that the struggle itself is a gift, reminding you as it does of the danger of idols and the need to fix your eyes on Jesus rather than on your own silly human efforts.
Oh, and there is also such a thing as new beginnings.
Monday, October 5, 2015
Pleasing Mr. Bisbee
"My play time was cut short because Mr. Bisbee, one of the boarders, took a notion to teach me to sing and I had to waste some time every day practicing the scales up and down and mixed. I would rather play but Mr. Bisbee was one of the richest men in Burr Oak and our best paying, steady boarder. He must be pleased if possible and so I patiently learned to sing 'do ra me fa sol la see do.'"
Pioneer Girl: The Annotated Autobiography, p. 102, Laura Ingalls Wilder, ed. Pamela Smith Hill
Pioneer Girl: The Annotated Autobiography, p. 102, Laura Ingalls Wilder, ed. Pamela Smith Hill
Monday, September 14, 2015
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.
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.
Sunday, September 6, 2015
Jerry
This is my brother. His name is Jerry. He died yesterday at the age of 66.
Quick background: my father was a widower with four children. My mother was divorced with six. They married when Jerry, my father's youngest, was 14. I was born when he was 15. I don't have memories of living in the same house with him, but I do have memories of spending time with him. He loved to go fishing and would take me with him sometimes. I would hand him worms to bait the hook. When he got married he would let me come to the apartment complex where he and his wife lived and stay the night and swim in his pool. When I got a little older I babysat his daughter, my niece, sometimes.
I have several vivid memories of Jerry helping me when I was little. Once when I was swimming in his pool I panicked in the deep water. Before I even started to go under, he was there, pulling me out. Another time something started biting me inside my pants leg. Jerry was the first to hear my screams and come and help me get the pants off so as not to get more stings from the scorpion that had apparently crawled inside.
I remember Jerry's smile and his hearty laugh. He was mischievous and playful and loved to play horseshoes.
Like my dad, Jerry was a smoker and drinker. He contracted lung cancer a few years ago and underwent treatment and surgery that stemmed the cancer's progress. Last month his daughter let me know that he was going to see the doctor due to a return of symptoms. Last week he went in for a biopsy but a few days later had to be admitted to the hospital due to fluid on his bad lung. In rapid succession he was put on a ventilator and went into sepsis before dying yesterday.
My family is a patchwork. I am the only "ours" of a "his, mine and ours" family. To some extent my dad's children seemed more like aunts and uncles to me than siblings. On my mom's "side" the youngest was 7 when I was born, so I spent a good chunk of my childhood living like an only child. Once I grew up, got married and moved to another state, and my dad died, it became harder to maintain a connection with all the pieces of my family, and there have been long stretches where we haven't kept in close contact. I haven't been a very good thread to try to hold this family quilt together.
My brother Jerry is the second of my siblings to die. My father's oldest son died three years ago. I wish I had called Jerry when I first got word that he was not feeling well. I thought there was more time. There wasn't.
I have been looking through old pictures to try to find a picture of me and Jerry together. I haven't found one yet. I will keep looking.
Jerry wasn't a churchgoer but I take comfort in the knowledge that he was baptized into Jesus Christ when he was a child. I pray he was able to cling to that faith at the last. I love you, Jerry. Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.
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