January 26 – “In the nick of time”

You just gotta love it when God shows up in ways you never expect.  I was beginning to wonder what he had in mind Sunday morning.  We were waiting just a little longer than usual for Bryan to get there with the day’s music.  Most of the folks attending were quite gracious about the wait, and seemed to be enjoying talking together and getting to know one another.  When Jennifer got there with the music (on a computer flash drive – Bryan got called into work), I got started right away to transfer the videos and get us going.  Getting them from the flash drive to the hard drive was easy enough, but for some reason I just couldn’t seem to get them set in the worship program we use.  The whole thing would just lock up.  I can guarantee it was operator error.  After a certain point I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.  I found out after the fact that the easiest way to deal with the issue would have been to bypass Media Shout completely and just play the videos directly off the hard drive.  Now you tell me.  I admit I was getting pretty worried.  I had no idea of a plan B at the time. 

But God did.  As I frantically tried yet a different way to load the videos, one of our visitors made his way over to the computer.  Not wanting to push his way into the situation, he patiently waited until I took an obvious break.  Then he jumped right in.  “If you need me to play some music for you, I can do that.”  Without hesitation (and maybe a bit too quickly) I replied, “We need you to play some music.”  We compared notes – his tablet and our computer – for songs, and selected several.  He made his way to the keyboard up front, sat down, and proceeded to amaze us all.  He was an amazing pianist.  And he plays by ear, so it really didn’t matter what song we selected, if he had heard it before, he could play it.  And once more, God saved the day.

Chris and I went to lunch with Mr. Piano and his wife (A.K.A. Wes and Karen).  There we found out a lot more about them.  Aside from being about our age and lots of fun to be with, they told us Wes can also play guitar.  He enjoys working with young musicians (like our very own Wyrick family).  And he has been looking for a place where he can use his musical abilities to lead in worship.  Could this possibly be another God thing?  We invited them to our Thursday home group, and they assured us they would be back Sunday.  As we left I told him, I didn’t intend for this lunch to turn into a job interview or anything.”  He retorted, “If it was, I hope it went well.”  Hey, Wes, when God is involved, it always goes well.  Guess I have some praying to do.

Psalms 119:89-90 says, “Your word, O Lord, is eternal; it stands firm in the heavens. Your faithfulness continues through all generations; you established the earth, and it endures.”

Father, thank you for sending Wes to Seaside in the nick of time.  We want your will to be done, and it would sure be great if that matches up with our need for a worship leader.  Amen.

 

January 25 – “On Rosaries and Hail Mary’s”

A while back when Chris and I went to her aunt’s funeral, it was preceded by a Rosary.  This post is my “outsider’s take” on what we saw.  Please feel free to enlighten me further on any of the points.  I am sure willing to learn.

That is a Catholic pre-funeral event where the people gather to collectively “pray through the Rosary.”  Of course the Rosary beads are one of the most recognizable in the Catholic array of symbolic artifacts and events.  Designed to be an aid to private prayer, each bead represents one prayer in a never-ending circle of communication with God.  The beads are divided up into segments with a different sized or colored bead beginning each new segment.  As the pray-er says the prayer associated with a bead, he then pushes it along, moving to the next bead and the next prayer.  Some of the beads represent the Lord’s Prayer, and others represent what is called the “Hail Mary” from the first two words.  Here’s a “semi-official” definition that I found after the fact:

The prayers that essentially compose the Rosary are arranged in sets of ten Hail Mary's preceded by one Lord's Prayer and followed by one Glory Be. During recitation of each set, known as a decade, thought is given to one of the Mysteries of the Rosary, which recall events in the lives of Jesus and Mary. Normally, five decades are recited in a session. Other prayers are sometimes added after each decade (in particular, the Fatima Prayer) and before (in particular, the Apostles' Creed), and after (in particular, the Hail, Holy Queen) the five decades taken as a whole.

Back to my impressions.  So, at the Rosary service the crowd essentially prays through the Rosary beads together.  The particular Rosary we went to occurred thirty minutes before the actual funeral service began, and it was set up much better than many I have seen.  I’m a big fan of explaining the why’s behind traditions that “everyone is supposed to know,” and that courtesy was, to an extent, extended here.  They broke it up into five segments that each started out with a scripture from one of the “mysteries” of the faith.  By “mysteries” in this case they mean segments of Jesus’ life.  I looked it up.  There are 20 different “mysteries” to choose from.  18 of them are about Jesus.  They have added two at the end: the assumption of Mary and the crowning of Mary as queen of heaven.  Those I begin to have questions about, since they are not in Scripture.  I understand that Mary was given her special status originally in an effort to glorify Jesus.  I think the logic probably went something like, if Jesus was the Son of God, then his mother had to be someone very special.  Otherwise he would have been tainted with her sin.  Of course that line of logic breaks down, because you would have to apply the same process to Mary’s mother and father, and to their parents, and so on.  And we know Mary was a descendant of David, so in just a few generations you run into this guy who regularly confessed his sins to God.  Whew.  I appreciate any effort to glorify Jesus, but this might have gone just a bit too far.  I also take great issue with those who say that you can receive salvation through Mary without any need for the sacrifice of Jesus.  That is, indeed, worship of Mary.  I have a problem with that.

This particular service just had scripture from five of the Jesus-life mysteries.  After each Scripture reading, they prayed through a segment of the rosary, asking Mary to pray for them five or six times (the Hail Mary), and then praying the Lord’s Prayer and giving glory to God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit once.  That means over the course of the 30 minute service, they asked Mary to pray for them 50 or 60 times, and said the Lord’s Prayer or something that specifically honored or recognized Jesus 15 or so times. 

My take on that?  First of all, I guess I’m not your typical Protestant, by any means.  I don’t see the Hail Mary as an act of worship of Mary.  The first part is a Scripture quotation (Luke 1:28-30 - The angel went to her and said, "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you."  Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God).  “Hail” (Greetings in this translation) is a form of greeting from the Greek word chairo meaning be cheerful.  You might hear it today as “Aloha.”  So the angel is not worshipping Mary.  He is just getting her attention and saying “hello.”

It seems to me that the “Hail Mary” as said by Catholics, as well as “prayers” to any of the individuals designated “saint” (A “saint” in Scripture refers to any believer.  In Catholic life the term is used to designate someone who has attained a special status among the church because of a remarkably devoted life or because of some spiritually unusual circumstance surrounding them), is a request for someone, who is still alive (as we believe believers who have died to indeed be) and happens to already be in heaven with Jesus, to pray for you - to connect with Jesus for you - since, as they are already residents of the spiritual realm, they are spiritually “closer” to him than you are.  I have no problem with that.  It’s the same as asking someone at church to pray for you.  I admit I still get a bit frustrated over the rote nature of it all, though (probably my Episcopalian roots rising up again).  Chris noticed at the rosary that many folks followed along with their own rosary beads up to a point, and then just balled the beads up in their hands and seemed to go into automatic pilot on through to the end.  Just seems to me that it would be more effective, and more meaningful, if you quoted the scripture part of the “Hail Mary,” asked her to pray for you, then mentioned specifically what it was you’d like for her to talk to her son about for you.  I would assume that you are going to be talking to him as well, and you’ll probably be specific then, so why not give her the specifics as well?  And once you do it, isn’t it done?  Now, I know the history behind the whole thing, and the teaching value of the rosary beads.  I get it.  I just question the spiritual and practical basis behind it.

All in all, this Rosary for me was an interesting and relatively meaningful experience.  It definitely helps to go into new experiences like this with a mind ready to learn and a heart already connected to Jesus.  It helps you get past the years of misunderstanding and distrust and move on to caring for the people involved who are doing what they can to connect with Jesus as their Lord … just like you. 

Psalms 119:73 says, “Your hands made me and formed me; give me understanding to learn your commands.”

Father, help me to never stop learning and to always keep you as the focus of my praise.  Amen.

January 24 – “The camp experience”

I spent most of my afternoon yesterday doing some research on youth camps in the state of Texas.  I only went to one youth camp as an Episcopalian.  I only remember a few things about it.  One was watching the movie, ”What’s it all about, Alfie” (or something like that).  I think back in the late 60’s, using today’s rating scale, it would probably have been at least a PG13.  Aside from just being a bad movie in general, there were some scenes that really took me by surprise.  Not what I expected to see at a church camp. 

I also remember doing an off-the-cuff sociological experiment.  I decided to create a persona of a quiet, dissolve-into-the-woodwork kid and see how the group responded to me.  No one else from my church came.  Not a soul there knew me.  Nothing scientific about it.  I didn’t take notes or anything, but I was fascinated by the varying responses I got from the other kids.  Early on in the week I was pretty much ignored.  Later on a few of the girls realized I was there and started to cajole me into participating.  None of the guys ever even introduced themselves to me.  It wasn’t a terrible experience, but it wasn’t one I ever cared to repeat.  I did learn that if I was ever in that situation, I would do what I could to at least acknowledge the loners and “disenfranchised” among the group. 

The only other memory I have is that I had to make a report to the church about the experience, since they paid my way.  That meant standing up in the huge pulpit that looks like a golden chariot, before the entire congregation, and doing some public speaking.  Sounds scary, doesn’t it?  Actually it was the easiest part of the whole experience.  Oh, the preparation part was a nightmare.  I still have to work really hard at that.  But once I got up there, it didn’t take long for me to settle in and do the talking.  I kind of knew by that time that one way or another I would end up in the ministry.  I just had no idea what it would look like. 

I did go one year to youth camp in Palacious, Texas, with the group from First Baptist Church, Galveston.  I don’t remember much about that week.  I know the worship services were held in a huge outdoor covered pavilion.  We played some softball and I remember faking a cramp so I wouldn’t have so much pressure to win a swimming competition.  Later on, one of the churches I worked at actually did its own youth camp.  I didn’t get to experience that one.  Instead I had to create and run a camp for children the same week. 

Chris and I were introduced to the Centrifuge camp indirectly after we moved to Colorado.  We went to Glorieta for some kind of education conference, and Kel was enrolled in Centrifuge for the week.  He had a pretty good experience, so after we got established in Denver, Glorieta became one of the camp options every year.  And we have been going to a Centrifuge experience almost every year since then, most of them in Glorieta.  We have seen a lot of lives changed as a result of camp.  It has always been a priority of mine as a pastor, and I committed a long time ago to do what I could to go with the kids to camp, wherever that might be, to show my support and encouragement. 

Psalms 42:1-2 says, “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God.  My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.  When can I go and meet with God?”

Father, thank you for the lives that have been changed because of a camp experience.  Prepare the hearts of those who will have that experience this year.  Amen.

January 23 – “An only-at-WalMart sight”

It was a dreary, rainy, downright stormy day.  So of course the first thing we did was leave the house.  It was Thursday, so we had water exercise.  The weather wasn’t too bad at that time, though.  We made it home before any of the bad stuff started, but I still had to make a trek out to the church property.  I wanted to take a look and see if there was anything we needed to do in terms of cleaning it up.    

I had just read in the paper that morning that the lady who has been leasing the church’s property to stable her horses has been arrested for cruelty to animals.  All of the horses have been confiscated and taken to shelters to be rehabilitated, so at least they will be cared for.  We knew she has been having some difficult times financially, so we have not been pushing for the rent.  She was hoping to make do until her busy season, which kicks in around Spring Break.  As it turned out, her difficulties were more severe than just rent.  We’ll have to see what happens next.  There’s a much deeper story behind what is happening there, but suffice it to say that a lot of prayer is needed.  At issue for the church now is that we will have to do the clean-up of the property to bring it to compliance with the city’s requirements.  I tried to get to the area that needs to be cleaned up, but I was afraid I might get stuck in the mud, so I backed out of there.  Guess I’ll have to put that on my ever-expanding list of things that have to get done yesterday. 

I was also going to stop by several of the fire stations, but by that time I decided that the weather was just too much.  It’s times like that when I really appreciate those fire fighters who go out in it, rain or shine, to take care of folks. I did have to stop off at Walmart, though.  We were out of dog food and almost out of fruit and milk, so the stop was quite warranted.  And little did I know that I would be rewarded with one of those only-at-Walmart sights for sore eyes you read about.  As I was rounding the bin to pick up some oranges, there stood a man … in a skirt.  Now it’s not that he was trying to dress like a woman.  I didn’t get that sense at all.  He was just a guy dressed in a skirt.  Went down to about his knees.  It wasn’t quite a kilt.  I could have handled a kilt.  Some of the finest men I know wear kilts and play drums and bagpipes.  It was solid black and it had pockets that looked like blue jeans.  And it didn’t have pleats or anything.  It was just a skirt.  I guess I have to add that he pulled it off, too.  Carried himself proudly, and wasn’t even drawing many strange looks.  More power to him I guess.  Welcome to WalMart.

I have to add a post script here.  When I told Chris about the guy at WalMart I used the terminology, “He managed to pull it off.”  She had a very brief moment wherein a look of utter shock spread on her face.  She muttered, “Wait.  Wait.  Do you mean that he … pulled it off?  Like took it off?”  By the time she finished her thought I understood where she was going, and I wish I could have kept enough of a straight face to spin a different yarn-worthy ending to the tale.  Didn’t happen, though.  The image in my mind was a bit too … overwhelming.

Psalms 40:2 says, “He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.”

Father, be with the lady and her horses.  Take care of the fire fighters who have to respond in the rain and cold.  And thank you that our assurance in life comes from you and not from what we wear.  Amen.

January 22 – “Going places”

We did have Cailyn around for a few hours yesterday.  Nathan was finishing off moving the last of their things and April had a training thing at UTMB that she had to go to.  Not my idea of a restful day off on either count, but they are still youngsters.  Chris had a meeting of the Wednesday Club to attend.  First one she has been to since before Mom died, I think.  So for a few hours in there it was just me and Cailyn.  We started our afternoon together with some kind of inventory check that she was doing.  She had a notebook and a pen, and we had to go into every room of the house for her to inspect whatever it was she was inspecting.  Upon her approval, a number went into the notebook, and we moved on.  I asked Chris about where she might have seen something like that, and in her all-knowing way, she smiled and said, “Of course,” as if me and the rest of the world should automatically know the mind of a four year old … girl.  Not happening.  I have to admit, though, her story of explanation was kind of interesting.  Here it is, best I can remember.

The other night when Cailyn was over we watched the movie, Princess Diaries.  We have the part two version, but we had never seen the first one.  We finally broke down and ordered it on Amazon.  We even got Cailyn her very own copies of both movies for her birthday.  It is by far her favorite when she is over here, I supposes since we don’t have Frozen.  No, I still haven’t seen that new classic as of yet.  Then Chris and Cailyn apparently watched the first one over again the other day.  So … while I was at the Post Office waiting for the fire department to show up (don’t panic.  Just read yesterday’s blog), they decided to play “Mia.”  That’s the name of the princess in the movie.  Now Chris made the mistake right up front of making certain assumptions.  She said, “So, Cailyn, I guess that means you are Mia?”  Oh, no.  Wrong assumption.  Chris backtracked nicely and began again, “OK.  So who am I?”  Better start.  Cailyn chuckled and said, “Well, Nani, you’re the queen.”  There you go.  When you do it right, you get to be the queen.  I’ll try to remember that.  But when Chris asked who Cailyn was going to be, there was a problem.  Not the princess (of course not?).  So what other character would she even remotely consider being?  After some cajoling Chris finally figured it out.  She wanted to be the queen’s chief of staff, the lady who walked around with a notebook and a pen telling the queen where she was supposed to go and what she was supposed to do next.  Ah.  She’s pretty young to have discovered the best-kept secret in the political/corporate/medical /religious (and probably every other) realm.  The true power does not lie with the president or the CEO or the doctor or the pastor.  Oh, no.  The real person in charge is … the chief of staff / administrative assistant / nurse / church secretary / (however that position might be camouflaged, er, called).  We better keep our eye on that little girl.  I think she may be going places. 

Oh, and I will confess at this point that she and I ended up watching Princess Diaries Two.  She even gave me the old elbow treatment a time or two when I started falling asleep.  But as to the vicious rumor that I continued watching it to the end after her Mom came and picked her up?  Well, that may or may not be true.  You’ll have to … uh … check with my secretary for an official statement?

Luke 13:30 says, “Indeed there are those who are last who will be first, and first who will be last.”

Father, help us learn to keep the whole power thing in proper perspective.  It all comes from you, anyway, so as long as we have you, we have all the power we’ll ever need.  Amen.

January 21 – “One Down at the Post Office”

I got to meet one of those elusive bigwigs of the City of Galveston yesterday.  It all started with a simple trip to the post office.  And I wasn’t even going to go there.  I had to stop at the bank, pick up some paper at Office Depot for the church, and then go to Randall’s to pick up a prescription.  Cailyn was out of school sick and staying at our house, so I wanted to get back as soon as I could to help Chris.  But I decided it wouldn’t take longer than a few extra minutes to stop at the post office and pick up a registered letter we missed while in Waco.  I knew the letter would somehow relate to the property the church owns out west of Jamaica Beach.  We get those all the time.  I just wasn’t sure how pressing the matter would be.  But that’s another story.

The parking lot was almost full when I arrived, so again, I almost passed.  But I had already driven here, so what’s a few extra minutes in line?  Besides, they have a side line for those just picking stuff up.  I could probably get in that one.  As I entered the building and rounded the set of counters in front of the tellers on my way to the side line “for pick-ups only,” a pregnant lady at the front of the line collapsed.  Just passed out and hit the floor.  I heard the initial hit and saw her seconds later as I hurried over to do what I could to help.  One other young man got to her before I did and instructed the teller to call 911.  I made sure her head was OK.  She was conscious when I got there, and didn’t seem disoriented at all.  She was coherent and talking to us, but obeyed our instruction to stay still for a few minutes.  One other lady came over and said a prayer.  She also left a sweater for the lady to put her head on.  Everybody else kept their place in the line that was soon redirected around us.

As we waited the long minutes before first responders arrived, the young man said he would wait outside and flag them down.  That’s when I first noticed the tall man in the crisp business suit with an ID tag around his neck.  He and a lady with a similar ID seemed to be pacing around the room, occasionally checking the front door.   They finally stopped near us and I could hear what they were talking about.  One of them said, “I know the fire marshall.  We could call him.”  Well, I know him, too, but he wouldn’t have much to do with a particular fire call.  I did, however, have Trish’s number in my phone.  Administrative assistants rule the world anyway, so I gave her a quick call.  And before I could even get the situation out of my mouth, she heard the call coming across from dispatch.  Wouldn’t be long now.

Sure enough, within just a few minutes, engine five rolled into the parking lot.  The fire fighters did a great job (of course) keeping her calm and checking her out.  Always proud of those guys.  When the paramedics arrived the fire fighters reported to them and handed her off to be checked out more fully on the medical side.  I’m pretty sure they convinced her it would be a good idea to touch base with her doctor. 

When I finally stood up to get out of the way, that tall young man in the suit was right there next to me.  He was obviously staring at my Galveston Fire and Rescue hat (at least it seemed so to me … he was really tall), so I introduced myself to him and told him I was just the fire department chaplain.  He seemed to relax and let me know that he was the postmaster general for Galveston.  Wow.  It felt like I was shaking hands with Benjamin Franklin or something.  It’s not often you get to meet a postmaster.  Now I have no idea what a postmaster does, other than discovering electricity by flying kites or writing an almanac or something.  But this guy was very nice.  He took my delivery notice and had someone bring me the letter.  Well done, USPS.  Well done, GFD.

Psalms 47:7 says, “For God is the King of all the earth; sing to him a psalm of praise.”

Father, protect that young mother and her little baby.  Thank you for the expertise, but also the compassion, of the fire fighters and paramedics who responded to care for her. 

January 20 – “It counts”

I had a birthday three days ago.  It wasn’t one we celebrate regularly, although we probably should.  See, 43 years ago I became a Christian, so January 17^th is my Christian birthday.  Can you count that as a valid day for celebration?

How did it happen?  Well, in a nutshell, God invaded my life at the point of my passion.  I know.  Sounds all churchified, doesn’t it?  It is what happened, though.  It would take a long time to write down all the “fun” details about how I became a believer.  In fact I have done that, and it takes up a good five pages.  Way too much for a blog, I guess.  Here’s a Reader’s Digest version:

My passion growing up was always baseball.  Loved it.  Wanted to play it forever.  Watched it.  Collected baseball cards.  Read about it.  I read every book the Rosenberg Library had that was even remotely related to baseball.  I had heroes.  The typical ones for my era Maris and Mantle, sure, but I also had Bob Aspromonte and the rest of the brand new Houston Colt .45’s.  And I was fascinated by the old players.  The really great old players.  Babe Ruth.  Dizzy Dean.  Lefty Gomez.  Ty Cobb.  And one in particular struck my fancy for some reason.  A guy named Billy Sunday.  He was a pro player who became a drunk.  One Sunday he woke up in a gutter and heard music from a church.  He went in and his life was changed forever.  He left baseball and became a preacher.  Now, I wasn’t fascinated with the guy because of his preacher status.  I just couldn’t for the life of me figure out how someone could just walk away from baseball like he did.  At the time I chalked it up to some kind of mental illness. 

As I got older it became painfully apparent that I would never fulfill my dream of playing major league baseball.  I was a pretty good shortstop, but not much of a hitter.  I finally gave up when I found out that to play baseball for the school meant having to practice in January.  It was cold in January.  Not a time to be outside at all.  About that time I lost my girlfriend.  Now she didn’t die or anything.  She just dumped me for a football player.  Devastated me to the core.  I was pretty severely depressed as a result.  Doctor’s appointments.  Tests of all kinds.  Medications.  The whole nine yards.  Things were getting quite serious, and the next step in my treatment plan was a residential stay in a psychiatric facility. 

About that time I was president of the Key Club at school. I moved into that role and pushed myself to do more there. One of our projects was to visit each other's churches, so I never missed one of those. But it was just that, a project.  During one of those visits, however, I saw something quite “interesting.” A girl I had met and had begun dating was a member there. Here was another possibility - a relationship! I began attending her church after I attended mine (1 wanted to be sure all my bases were covered!). I looked forward to holding her hand during the service and continuing our dating relationship. I saw her every day at school and called her every night. But, still, I was filled with a sense of loss, of grief, of depression, and it was worsening.  The girl invited me to attend a weekend trip with the youth choir from her church. Another friend at the church assured me that we would be playing softball as well, so I agreed to go. A very unusual thing happened to me on that trip. Along with the singing and softball that I expected, there were also teaching sessions. I did my best to tune those out, until I heard the teacher mention, of all things, Billy Sunday. Here's something I knew about! The reference was a minor one, just to make some point in the teaching, but the deed had been done. I was listening, and I was hooked.

I heard for the first time that Jesus loved me and wanted to have a personal relationship with me. I knew the story of how Jesus died and rose again, and I knew I had a real problem with sin. But for the first time all those things came crashing together as I realized it was for me!  Jesus invaded my life at the point of my passion and revolutionized / radically altered / redirected / exploded / shattered my illusion of what really matters most. This was the answer. This was something worth caring about even more than baseball.

 It didn't matter to him that I had been dumped. He loved me anyway ... just as I was. He promised a way to have joy in my life in spite of the furnace I was cooking in. I jumped at the chance. I prayed and asked Jesus to forgive me, to come into my life and take over. And for the first time I experienced a peace that I certainly couldn't understand. This peace was there even in situations I couldn't handle. I no longer had to fear suffering because my joy was no longer based on circumstances, but on my relationship with Jesus. And he promised that I could always count on him. And I was different.

The depression lifted. The dull ache that had refused to leave me was gone. I sensed a new purpose in life. I saw once again something to wake up in the morning for. I had a new passion!  I still like baseball, a lot. I still collect baseball cards.  I'm still an Astros fan. I still like to read books about the game and the players. But it's not my passion.

I like watching movies. And hanging out with my sons. And spending time with my wife.  And playing with my grandkids.  But my passion, the thing that drives me, the only thing I really need, is my personal relationship with Jesus. I like to spend time with him every day. I like to talk to him. I like to teach about him. I like to try to be like him. It is my life, and it's fun!  Best birthday present I ever received.  I think it counts.

John 3:16-17 says, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.  For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.”

Father, thank you for the best birthday present ever ... life … new life … and second chances.  Amen.