Freight Train

*Disclaimer: I am a pastor... but I also have my moments of doubt and question... and this is one of them.  Please know that going into this... and that despite my wavering trust, God's faithfulness never wavers.


Running is my normal respite, even at 5am when it's 20 degrees out....I'll go.  And mostly what drives me to get out of bed is knowing that in the wee hours of the morning, I reconnect with God.

However, the other morning the only thing which got me out of bed to run was the fact that I was meeting someone to run.  On that morning God couldn't have drug me out of bed.

I was angry with God...madder than I'd been in awhile.  Truthfully, I'd been hurling curse words up towards God.  Yes.  I swear at God occasionally.  The last thing I wanted to do was 'connect' with God.

But since I was running with someone I was pretty safe.  I knew I'd be able to squirrel God away to the farthest regions of my mind and heart and just blabber to my running partner.

And - lo and behold - I was safe....for most of the run.  She wasn't running as far as I was, so I ended up doing the last bit by myself.  After dropping her off I instinctively began to pray.  It's almost a reflex for me to pray as I run.

My prayers were more like a one sided shouting match with God.  I had all these things and people that I was worried about, all these painful and difficult situations, all this confusion.... and I was furious that God wasn't doing anything (or at least that's how I felt).  I could see all their faces flash in front of my eyes and through my mind as my feet landed one after the other on the pavement.

My pace quickened as small tears began to slip out of my eyes.  The air was so cold that they froze a bit on my cheeks.

I'm a creature of habit so my runs are fairly mapped out, so I can go on autopilot.  The route I was running that morning necessitates my crossing over a railroad track.  I must cross this track 3 times a week....always at about the same time and there's never been a train barreling down the tracks until this particular morning.

Still yelling at God in my head I came upon ringing bells and flashing lights, letting me know that a train was coming.

"You've got to be kidding me," I thought.  For a split second I contemplated dashing across to beat the train, but as I looked down the tracks I could see the headlights rushing towards me.  So, I stood on the platform....waiting.

Waiting.  And mad.

And as that train began to rumble past me - the ground shook and the wind wiped across my face and I was reminded of how so very often in the Bible when the mountains shook and the wind roared it was because God was doing something.

And the people couldn't withstand God's power.

The freight train rushed past so quickly that I dared God to knock me over.  I wanted to feel God's power.  I wanted God to prove to me that he really was powerful.... which sounds arrogant and unfaithful and yet I stood there daring Him.

"Do something...anything."

I was swallowing so hard to keep my breath, and I had to close my eyes to shut out the dust particles, and I swayed a bit from the force....but I stayed standing.

"Is this ALL you have God?!  Really?"

Oh, I was so mad.  So very, very mad that God wasn't  more impressive than that.

The train finally passed and I was still standing.  So, I squared up my shoulders, wiped my eyes and started off...determined to just get home without thinking about God.

And I did.  It wasn't far from that freight train to my house.

As I got into the shower I fell.  Not really - not like I kept begging God to do while I was standing on the platform, but I fell.  The water seemingly was more powerful than the train.  It softened me.

I felt like a fraud.  I no longer felt stronger than God...I felt small.  And I wished I trusted God implicitly.  Shouldn't I?  As a pastor, shouldn't I always trust God?

Now in the shower, as I thought about that freight train barreling past me I realized that maybe God was allowing me to be stronger than He...for a time.  Maybe God knew I needed to have some sort of power... I don't know.

All I now knew was that it was me that didn't want to trust God.  But in my core I knew that I always could trust God.

I'm hoping God understands this about me... That I love Him deeply and  it's unnerving sometimes.  That when I can get out of  my own way I trust Him with my life.

And that sometimes it does take a freight train to get through to me.

Christmas Blessing

From the darkest depths of the cosmos

the eyes of God twinkled

like stars.

As they spun forth hope.

Quickly God exhaled 

into a space

much smaller than his usual home.

A womb of a woman.

In that moment the universe did sing

enjoined to the songs of ten-thousand angels. 

Nine months passed...
    and then a lullaby.

Shepherds heard the haunting songs

and wise men too.

Moved by strength beyond their own

they trudged and traipsed to find ‘Wonder.’  

May the God who filled Mary

with all of himself

infuse and impregnate you.

Coming whole into your life.

May you receive this

most holy gift

of 'Wonder'.

And in the darkness

when despair threatens ‘Wonder’

may you have the courage

of a young, unwed mother.

May you hear angelic songs

on paths untrodden

and on roads well-known.

And may those songs confuse your heart.  

When life is ordinary and habitual

know that signs of God

are so often fabricated 

from the lowly and common.

And when you are seeking and traveling

up winding roads;

On long dusty paths

to where you belong

May you find shelter - 

in stable or inn

under a tree or an umbrella

May you find shelter in a friend - a sanctuary to take you in.  

And in that may you know ‘Wonder’.

And may you always ponder

And question

this mystery so dear.

May you never fully ‘know’ the story.

The cries of the Christ child

keeping you awake.

For today the angels sing unto house and nation,

unto rulers and peasants,

unto locusts and wild beasts....

Unto you and me

‘Wonder’ the child-gift has been born.  Amen.

Sidewalk Prophet

Things I know about prophets:
They make a big ruckus.
They are relentless.
They stand up for the oppressed.
They refuse to go unheard.

And - we mostly don't believe they exist anymore.

Well, I met a one the other day in the most unexpected of places.  He wasn't proclaiming in a church, nor was he leading people through the wilderness (at least not literally), nor was shouting, "Thus says the LORD,"on top a mountain.  And he most certainly wasn't clothed in camel's hair.

There he stood on the sidewalk to his grandparents house.  The Sidewalk Prophet I will call him.

He stood as tall as he could, shaking a ceramic bell and holding a tupperware container; he wore a T-shirt that said, "Raised by Elves".  Not the usual paraphernalia for a prophet, I guess.

Oh, and I forgot to mention he's five.
As in five years old.
A young age to have such a big voice.
But he sure knows how to use it and get what he wants.

Our congregation adopted area families for Thanksgiving and Christmas.  We promised to provide meals for them at Thanksgiving and gifts for children at Christmas.  We started with 12 families, which recently expanded to 17 families, which translated to about 50 children, which ended up being 52 bags of toys.

We are a small congregation and I'm not very good at saying, "No," when people need help.  And, actually, the congregation I serve isn't very good at saying, "No," either.

Well, I was worried about where the toys and money and food would come from.  I just didn't want to fail these families and I most certainly didn't want to fail God.  My faith faltered a bit as I tried to manage all the needs, and fathom where the money would come from.

I may possibly be telling this story to remind myself that what's needed for God to spin a miracle into being is very, very little.  A few loaves, a few fish can be turned into a feast.

Well, my worry and pragmatic side may have gotten the best of me for a few moments, but not so for the Sidewalk Prophet.

As money began pouring in, I talked with the congregation about the abundance of love that was pouring out.  My voice always seemed to crack as I held back tears of heartache mingled with joy.

The little Sidewalk Prophet must've heard God's call in those words, because what rose out of his little body was a voice that everyone would listen to, whether they wanted to or not.

Sometimes I think we believe a prophet is someone who predicts the future.  Maybe.  But I actually believe a prophet is someone who points to how what we do today will impact the future.  They point out that which we don't see.

Sidewalk Prophet sees more hope than many people I know.

On this particular Sunday there was something special going on at his grandparent's house (whose house is across the street from the church).  It's what they call, 'Cookie day!'  So, from what I understand, 'Cookie Day' is basically when the entire extended family gathers at grandma's house and  bakes Christmas cookies all day.  Dozens and dozens of cookies.  Relatives come from all over the town to bake cookies, eat cookies, and the men...they seem to watch football.

Well, the little Sidewalk Prophet had an idea and seized the moment.

He grabbed a glass bell from his grandma's shelf, stood on the stoop with a bucket and rang his bell as loud as possible.  He'd hijack people as they tired to knock on the door.  People would come over to bake cookies and....
he wouldn't let them in.

At least, not until they put some money in his bucket.  "A buck to bake cookies," he told them.

I'm sure he got some weird looks.  But everyone gave.

I actually had no idea that any of this was going on until he confidentally marched back into the church about an hour after worship, carrying his bucket and his bell, with his mother walking alongside him and his cousins all trailing behind, as if they were following in his footsteps.

His little body weaved through the adults to find me seated on a chair.  "Here you go," as he hands me a bucket of money.

His mom filled me in on the story as I looked at the $40.00 sitting in my lap.

"For the homeless people," he says, "so they can have toys too."  A big smile erupted on his lips.  Sidewalk Prophet.

And a smile erupted on my lips.

I think that often we hide behind the veil of wanting to help, but not knowing how, so we don't do anything.  I think I forget sometimes too - or maybe I get scared.  The Sidewalk Prophet reminds me to just go, do God's will.  It doesn't have to be fancy.  Heck, it doesn't always have to be well thought out.

There's one thing this little prophet can't begin to understand yet, but maybe you will.

He not only called a bit of justice into the world that day,  but he prophesied to me, reminding me that there's nothing too wonderful in this world for God.

Make some noise, cause a ruckus in the name of God.
Prophets exist today.  I met one just the other day.

The writing of a love story...

She stood there - hair covered by her knitted hat, her heavy black coat hung over her pink fleece sweatshirt as if it weighed a hundred pounds - staring into space.  I stood next to her, pressing the starred number one button on the elevator.

Down.  We were both going down from floor number six where we had spent hours together.  I glanced at her worriedly out of the corner of my eyes.  She took a long breath as we passed floor number three.

With a nod she says, "He'll be ok, doncha think?" as if to reassure herself.

"The doctors are doing everything they can.  He's in good hands," I responded as I brushed the hair off her cheek.

"I don't know what I'd do without him, ya know..." she says, still staring at the closed elevator doors.

"I know, I know..."

And I remember the love story that had just been told to me.  It's the kind of love story that seems so ordinary, while all the while remarkable in every way.  This is the kind of love that still holds hands at eighty; the kind of love I always dreamed of.  

My heart hurt in the good kind of longing way as I watched and listened to them finish one another's sentences, as only true lovers can.

As we sat next to his hospital bed, I had innocently asked, "How did you two meet?"  Maybe nobody had asked this eighty-something old couple that question in a long time, because the question was met with a sly grin from the man in the hospital bed.

"Now, that's a funny story," he says, as he looked over at his wife who was shaking her head at him.

He proceeded to tell me that some friends had given him her number as a dare.  She wouldn't date anyone; her standards were too high; she would only marry a teacher or doctor.  He proceeded to tell me that he told those boys, "Now, that's the kind of girl I would like to meet."

He took the number and set it on his desk for a few weeks before deciding one Sunday afternoon to give her a call. 

I made him back track in the story a bit...making sure I had it right...  Yes, he called her out of the blue, never having met her.

At this point the wife interjects into his storytelling: "My father walked through the kitchen and asked with whom I was on the phone.  I said, 'I don't know.  Some gentleman.'"

The husband laughed.  "Some gentleman.  Little did she know."  He continued to tell me he drove out to her house to take her for a ride, ended up helping her father finish building their house, and married her four months later.

"Four months?" I asked, shocked.

"Yes, four months," looking over at his wife who was smiling at him, "There's never been anyone for me, but her."

She shook her head again, "Now stop, dear."

"We're still together after all these years.  That's a long time, ya know?" he says looking at me.

Yes, I knew.  And as I sat there in the midst of all that love, I knew that there must have been hard times along the way.  Times when they wanted to walk away.

And I was so thankful neither of them had. 

I didn't know them when they were younger, when they courted, or when they had babies.  I didn't know them when they built their house, when they planted gardens, or hung drywall in the church basement.

I have only known them in these last years of their life.

I have only seen the end of their love story... 

So, as she stepped out of the elevator, I rubbed her back a bit, "You gonna be ok?"

"Yes.  Yes.  I'll be fine....

as soon as he comes home."

We walked together to the parking lot.  As I watched her shuffle to her car, I couldn't help but imagine her husband reaching out to grab her hand as he walked alongside her.

"Don't you take him," I pleaded with God.

I just couldn't bear for the story to end...not quite yet.

The Fourth

I intentionally do not post all my messages (sermons) from Sunday mornings, however after a few requests for the written version - here it is.  This was originally preached on November 13th at Epiphany Lutheran Church, based on Matthew 24: 14-30.


Okay - so I’m just going to say it.  The third servant - I feel sorry for him.  Not only do I feel sorry for him, I kinda like him too.  I’d probably do the same thing if the guy I’m most scared of in the world just handed me the equivalent of 20 years wages.  What in the world am I supposes to do with that much money? 


From most peoples’ vantage point he’s done nothing to deserve this harshness and wrath.  And yet, he’s thrown into the darkest regions of the universe by none other than... God...?

I mean, isn’t that how we always read this?  We assume that the wealthy landowner is God.  I wonder how God feels about this characterization?  

I’m sure God gets angry and is disappointed with us sometimes, but wanting us to live in fear?  To be scared stiff?  No.  I’m confident this isn’t what God wants for us.  So, I’d like to hold out the possibility that maybe the Master isn’t God.  

In this parable we also have the two ‘wise’ servants - the ones who do the ‘right’ thing.  They are given enormous amounts of money, more than they could ever or should ever be able to earn in the course of their lives.  And they make more....  Good for them.  And, good for the master.  

I guess I wonder who else is it good for?  It certainly doesn’t say.  

Over the years we’ve heard this preached as - take what God has given you and use it, do more with it!  Multiply it.  Give it away.  That’s valid; God does want us to do that.  

However, I believe there’s more to it, because I have a question.  What if you have nothing?  What if you haven’t been given an astronomical amount of money?  Or talent?  Or joy?  Or...anything?

What if you already live in no-man’s land?  There are plenty who live this way - on the fringes, skating by, lucky to have two pennies to scrape together.  There are plenty in the world who are already gnashing their teeth and weeping as we sit here.

And then there’s the idiotic third servant.  You know, the guy who heads out to the field, digs a hole and buries the treasure.  He wants nothing to do with it.  Obviously he has done the wrong thing.  I mean, seriously, who goes out and buries treasure?  

Everyone.  Everyone...seriously.  Especially during this time period - if someone entrusted something to your care it was because they trusted that you would protect it at all costs.  Burying it was common.  

Those hearing this parable would’ve assumed the third servant was doing the right thing.  So, when Jesus says the third servant gets thrown into the darkness everyone is shocked and surprised.  

So, how about a surprise this morning?  I mean, that’s the point of parables really.  To wake us up, to broaden our perspectives, to make us think about God and God’s world.  Once we start to assume we know what God’s story is all about then we’ve “predictibilized” the Gospel.  We’ve made it the ‘good news according to Christine’ or the ‘good news according to_____”.   

What if the good news today is:

The third servant is Jesus.  Is this possible?  

Let’s just play around with this a bit... 

The third servant guards something precious with his whole life - just like Jesus.

The third servant pushes back at those with great power - just like Jesus.

The third servant is tossed aside, discarded, left for dead - just like Jesus.

The third servant is misunderstood and mocked for years and years - just like Jesus.

I mean, could it be that there is more to the third servant than we assume?

If Jesus is the third servant, he can’t be talking to God... since Jesus is God.  So it means he’s taking on someone powerful and mighty and wealthy.  

Maybe the words the third servant would spit out today would be: 

“Do you know how scared everyone is of you? How your big feet squash them down?  You steal money that’s not yours.  People work in the heat and filth of this world, just so you can get more.  And then, you cut the needy out of your budgets. 

Well, I’m smarter than that. I’m not going to work for you. I’m going to try another way.  Don’t worry - I don’t steal.  Your money is back there, buried.  Get it yourself.”

I mean...what if Jesus was saying that?  It’s not really a leap – just a different way of hearing it.

Of course, he’s going to get fired for talking that way to the boss.  Don’t those who speak up against injustices always get thrown into the outermost regions of the universe?

In this parable the rich get richer.... and the poor get poorer... And if we don’t like that ending, then I believe the question to us is, “What are we going to do about it?”

The disparity is great in this parable and here in this world.  And I have a huge problem preaching that by our just being more generous with our money then things will be better for those on the bottom.

The good news has to be more than just ‘give generously’.  Jesus didn’t have to die for us to learn how to give money away.  People in Jesus’ time did give; many of us already give....

Plus, if faithful servants are those who get returns on their investments, then we’re all in trouble in today’s unsteady economy.

Maybe the good news today is about us not being like the first two servants - who produce in excess and use money to keep the system going...

The system was corrupt in Jesus’ day.  Poor servants made the world go ‘round.  Unfortunately, the system is still corrupt today.  Poor servants still make the world work the way we want it to work.  

Did you know that every single one of us has slaves working for us?  You heard that right.  

Here’s one - make-up.  I wear it most days.  Many of us do.  Did you know that many of the minerals used in make-up come from mines in India that have been worked by children?

From the smart phone, to the cup of coffee we drink, to the t-shirts we wear, to computers... Honestly, I could go on.  And on.  The truth of the matter is that we unknowingly buy products which make our lives easier and simultaneously injure another.

There isn’t a single solitary one of us who hasn’t unwittingly been one of the ‘generous two servants’....giving from what we have, but not necessarily knowing where’s it’s come from.

The third servant knows where things come from.

This coming Saturday we’re hosting a Fair Trade Fair here.  People can come and buy holiday gifts and ALL the profits go to support small-scale farmers and artisans, so they can be productive, self-sufficient members of their communities.  

If you know nothing about Fair Trade or even if you are unsure about what it means, let me tell you that at its core it is a method of doing business with justice and morality.  The business practices oppose cruel working conditions, support women’s rights, do not engage in slave labor, and promote good stewardship of resources and the environment. 

The entire principal is built upon equity.  Not wealth; not on making more and more.  It’s giving every one a fair shot at living well.  Not living large, but living fully.

There’s a difference. 

All the items - from baskets to jewelry, from textiles to kitchen-wares, from nativities to coffee have all been produced and crafted by individuals who have been trampled upon, who have been weeping and gnashing their teeth...

And in some small way we have a chance this weekend to protect the thing God treasures most.  God’s people.  We...who in many ways can act like the first and second servant are given the opportunity to be - 

The fourth servant.  

What?!  No, fourth servant?

Ah, there must be.  Today, my dear friends, we must be the forth servants.  We must be the ones who follow after the third servant.  Who is this forth servant?

The fourth servant doesn’t only give from what we have.  We give up our right to have more.

The fourth servant doesn’t make more money to live a comfy life and then gives away want he or she doesn’t want.  We learn to live with less, so that others can live with more.  

The fourth servant doesn’t only ensure his or her kids get to go college, but works to ensure all children are afforded a good education.  

You may say that I am taking liberties with today’s Gospel...maybe I am.

But what if, no-mans land isn’t no-man’s land to the people who live there?  What if the fourth servant went to the place where people are weeping and gnashing their teeth?  What if God’s calling fourth servants today? 

And, what if that forth servant was you? 

It’s a hard road to go.  It involves sacrifice, and thinking, and work and a whole lot of compassion for people we may never meet in this lifetime.  But thank God Almighty that the third servant has been there already and is still there willing to work with us.  It’s time to write a new chapter to this parable.  AMEN.

Love not as work, but as art (I'm still figuring this out)

based on the poem "I Believe" by Elizabeth Alexander and retooled by 'me'.

The Gospel, I tell those who pass,

is peculiar.  It's the Good News

in which we find our true selves

(though Sterling Brown said

"Every 'I' is a dramatic 'I'").

digging in the clam flats

That mud, sinking mud, we call life

For the shell that snaps,

emptying the proveerbial pocketbook along the way.

Good news is what you find

in the dusty crevices of your heart,

and under sandaled feet,

Which hardly seems the place for Gospel to be.

Overheard on the bus,

God in the details, the only way

To get from here to there.

Good News (and now my voice is rising)

is not all love, love, love

and I'm sorry the dog died (even though I am).

The Gospel (here I hear myself the loudest) is the song

which makes the human sing:

"Are we not of delight to each other?"

This poem, in it's original form, was shared with me by one of my dearest and truest friends and I am eternally grateful for the ways in which it continues to speak to me.  

Why Growing a church is a bit like eharmony (or match.com or any dating website)

When I was in college there was never a lack of boys to date...and not because of how I looked or how smart I was or what parties I attended.

There was never a  lack of boys to date because we were all in the same boat.

Single.  Relatively free from responsibility.
Every day I could step out of my sorority house and meet someone new, someone interesting, someone intriguing (and possibly cute too).

But, let's face it.  As we get older, it's not that way.  If you aren't hooked into a relationship by the time you're out of graduate school, then it's much harder (if you're married, just trust me on this).  If you want to meet someone new, then you'll have to take some drastic measures.

You may even have to turn to eharmony or match.com.  ICK.

To do that then you have to be willing to admit very publicly that you want to be in a relationship with someone.  You have to admit that you're looking... that you want to be loved and accepted and known.

It is at this point you realize how much effort it takes to build a relationship.  It is also at this point you realize how easy you used to have it (those tears cried over the returned lavaliere hardly seem catastrophic now).

I don't know if it was ever 'easy' to grow a church, but I do know that we seem to think it used to be easier.  I do know that how we built relationships in the past are different than how we build them today.

I'm not saying the church needs to set up an eharmony profile and see if anyone wants to date us, but what I am saying is we can't sit around and wait for people to just show up.

They aren't going to just show up.  If we're going to find the people who are 'looking' then we're going to have to say we're 'looking' too.

If we want to share the good news to all the world that they are:
utterly known, completely forgiven, entirely freed, and forever loved, then we're going to have to put in the effort.

We're going to have to put ourselves out there first and say, "Hey.  So, it's sort-of hard for me to talk about this...I don't have all the answers, but I can share a bit about how God helped me through something similar."

Those might not be the words you would use - you'll have to come up with your own 'profile'.

I guess you don't need to come up with a 'profile'.  We can be content to sit inside our church buildings and hope we'll bump into someone to love, someone to share with, someone to serve with.

That probably won't happen though.  We're not in college anymore.
The people are out there for you to meet.
Go.  Meet them.  Share the love of Christ with them.
Don't let your insecurities hinder you.

Because in the end... the Church is the site that's got a handle on love.  Not eharmony.