It Had to Happen

It had to happen. Today, I visited with a "class" of four-year-olds at our Vacation Bible School. One of the charming darlings (a little 'un I had not met before)hollered after me, as I left, and she said, "I am going to kick your butt, old man!" Well, I don't know why she wanted to kick me, but the sting of someone that young innocently calling me "old man" was worse than any physical threat she offered.

I never turned back; I didn't let my shoulders flinch; in fact, I laughed and laughed and laughed as I went to my car. It was truly funny to me. And I still chuckle now, and I feel a little sad. My first time. "Old man". But I guess life is always like that in one way or another, it will "kick our old butts" sooner or later. We will drag, and we will droop, and we will die, but by God, we shall also rise again! We are blessed every day with joys, laughter, adventure, grins, insights, touches, waves, visions and grace beyond grace. Only the old or the dying get to see this in all its splendor.

Little girl, I am old compared to you, but you will have to catch me first before you get to kick my butt!

Home from Iraq, Home to "Vine and Fig Tree"

Two soldiers/National Guardsmen with whom our church is connected are now back at Fort McCoy and debriefing for a week or so before returning to their families.We are deeply grateful for and respectful of their military service. We have a good idea what they and their families have endured for our country. So, we say a heartfelt and simple "thank you" for the costs and labors borne on behalf of our national commitments.

I notice, too, that something in my gut, a knot that had the names of these soldiers on it, is untying and loosening. Thank God they are home again to love their darlings, to hold their children, to marvel at how green God's trees and grasses are here in "a country called the Midwest". One soldier from our church had already come home with raw memories of Iraq, and another tied to our church, is still serving there. We pray for all of them, for their families and friends, and for the innocent Iraqi people who suffer daily many times more the violence and brutality than the soldiers, or terrorists or insurgents are enduring.

The Old Testament prayer for shalom, peace and wholeness is that "every one should live beneath their vine and fig tree, at peace and unafraid" (Micah 4:4). May this be so for all of us--our sisters and brothers, our soldiers, our enemies, our distant neighbors.

Reach New People, Build Spiritual Vitality=A Path to Life

Kathy Neil tells me she is thinking about a "path to life" theme for our fall Sunday School start-up(e.g. Proverbs 10:17). I like it! The thing about "walking a path" is this; it is both a way to reach new destinations and a way of being. If you cannot strive for a destination, you cannot walk a path well. At the same time, if you cannot "become" a certain kind of traveler, "at home" in oneself, you also cannot travel well. The first traveler may be comfortable, but useless. The second may be reaching challenging goals, but essentially never present to God, neighbor or self.

I want to invite our members and friends to join me for a town-hall conversation about our "path" together for this fall, about our worship and other ministry possibilities. We will meet on Tuesday, July 17, at 7 p.m. Two imperatives should be uppermost in our hearts, souls and minds: First, how can we reach new people? Second, how should we build spiritual vitality in our congregation? Think about these things in terms of: how we all invite others to share with us, how deeply our relationships go, what is worship like when guided by these two imperatives, what about our teaching ministries, our care ministries, and our outreach to others?

One question our staff and worship planners has is this, would we welcome more new friends from the community, and deepen our spiritual lives, if we offered a Sunday morning that looked something like this:

9:00 "Heart" Worship--Relational, informal and with an accompanying
eclectic mix of music from our band and other musicians and vocalists

10:00 "Soul Worship", a quiet Quaker-type prayer, contemplative service--and
also our Sunday classes for all ages

11:00 "Mind" Worship--Blended elements of tradition and innovation, with
primary musical accomaniment on organ and piano, with other guest
musicians and vocalists or groups; messages might include more guest-
speakers or topical matters

If you have some thoughts on this, please e-mail me or Pastor Mary Keen. Also, we look forward to conversing with our members and friends on July 17, 7 p.m., at the church.

What A Jerk...What a Lovable Jerk

Every now and then this life, this journey from Soul to Sole, gives each of us some unexpected, unimpeded and undiluted vista of what jerks we are. We see it laid out plain and clear as a long look down one of the green hillsides and out onto the fields near Northfield. It is not inspiring at first, so much as it is perplexing and mysterious. How could such actions or words have come from little old me?

I had such a moment yesterday. It had to do with cars, parking lots, and somone honking their horn at me. I won't bore you with the details of that moment, just as I hope you won't bore me with the details of yours, unless in a confessional prayer or pastoral talk. At first, I thought there was only one jerk in the parking lot, but by the time we finished, I was certain there were at least two.

Sometimes I think this is the most important reason that we need someone like Jesus of Nazareth. He is a sound companion for our "What a Jerk" moments. He looks me full in the face and says, "Christ, what a jerk you can be!" And he will not stop looking at me until I 'fess up to the truth of it. Then, as some of my best friends also do for me, he says, "And yet how remarkable you are! Beloved, begin again."

Jesus said, "Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven." I say, "Loose me, Lord. I don't want to be a jerk today. Help me begin again."

The Loon's Cry

My son, Colin, and I paddled the few miles of the Mississippi River between Cass Lake and Lake Winnibigoshish on Friday, July 6. The reeds were so high in that part of the river that we could not tell where we were going; we could only follow the general flow of the river. The closer to the mouth of the river we came, the wider the channel, the more the river reeds, the less certain the course we should take. It was like the scenes in "African Queen" where Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn are desperately trying to reach Lake Victoria.

We got sunburned, and bonded together by kidding around about how awful hot, sticky and miserable we were. When men talk together, there is always a strange, snaking current of thought and conversation, as meandering as the river there, moving from the deeper waters (when did you feel you got your life's direction into focus?)to the trivial but funny-as-hell shallows(sharing fart jokes). We covered it all. Colin is not used to canoes, so his behind got pretty sore. My thighs, which I always barbecue during July, were so burned I had to wear a life-preserve over them to keep the sun off. We paddled onward; connected silence replaced connecting speech.

Nothing much "happened". At a certain point on our journey, we came across a loon parent with a younger loon. They were separated by our canoe drifting by. The young loon would dive under water just as the parent would warble out a cry to draw the younger bird near. They repeated this comedy of errors several times, until it grew more tragi-comic. The parent-loon grew more and more anxious, crying out again and again, "Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?" At last, as we drifted past them, the young loon surfaced right next to the parent-bird. They continued their river-trip together in companionable silence, as Colin and I did.