Nothing Hard is Ever Easy

  Somehow I always delude myself that after Easter life will slow down.  It's the same delusion I have in May and December, "After Memorial Day (or Christmas) life will slow down."  But it never does.  This year we have inadvertently embarked on a variety of changes at the same time: changing emails, changing phone and internet providers, changing routers, changing technology in sanctuary, changing direction of music program, changing the use of our building facilities, changing programs for our worship visuals.  Changes are hard.  And as I am fond of saying, "Nothing hard is ever easy."
     Each of these changes have come with hours of unforeseen work, meetings, troubleshooting, phone calls, communication, etc.  None of which seminary ever prepared me for.  Finding the IP Address for the copy machine was a class I must have missed.  I continually struggle with the notion of balance, how do I balance all of these responsibilities, with responsibilities of family, with responsibility to myself.  How do I fulfill my obligations to work and family, while still finding some "me" time?  Nothing hard is ever easy.
     I'm afraid I have not been succesful at that balance in recent months.  I put "me" time aside for work and family thinking "It's only until Easter.  It's only until the summer.  It's only until that project is done."  Of course after that time comes, there's always something to take its place, always something else to do. 
     If I am ever going to achieve any kind of healthy balance in my life, I can't wait until "nothing else is going on."  I have to make time, now, and not apologize.  I have to find ways to restore my energy and keep that a priority.
     I did that on Monday for one hour.  I decided to take a walk in the gorgeous sunshine.  My son, Christian, wanted to go with me.  What a precious time we had together!  It was the first time we had a chance to just walk and talk.  Still four years old for a few more weeks, he shared with me what he was doing in school, the life cycle of a frog and a butterfly, words he was now reading, math work he was doing, the continents, planets, and months of year.  As we held hands, he held my heart, while he shared his life with me.  He wants to be a singer when he grows up, or a superhero.  He hasn't decided yet.  That one hour together renewed me like no other and I will cherish that walk for months and years to come.
     What can you do to renew yourself this week?  Have at least one event every week, if not two or three times a week, that you look forward to, that you enjoy, that re-energizes you.  Don't wait until there's nothing else to do, or it will never happen.  Just make the time.  It may be hard, but remember...nothing hard is ever easy.  

Holy...Fertilizer!

     Jesus said, "Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." (John 12:24)  He was talking about his life, of course, and the reality that even in nature, death brings new life.  Through his death on the cross, ressurection became possible along with another opportunity for humanity to be in relationship with God.  But he was also talking about the lives of those who want to be his disciples.  The need to "deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow me."  All this talk about dying can be very sobering, as if God wants God's children to suffer. 

     But Jesus is trying to tell us there is often a purpose in the suffering: to bear fruit.  As I am fond of saying, you can't get to Easter without Good Friday.  The cross becomes the fertilizer for our resurrection experiences.  The "fertilizer" stuff that we go through in life often give us the motivation to bear fruit of love and kindness and patience and self-control (just to name a few).  The Susan G. Komen foundation which has raised billions for breast cancer research and screening was founded out of the pain of one lady who lost her sister Susan to breast cancer.  Non-profit organizations abound that grew out of the "fertilizer" of pain and heartache and disease and tragedy.

     Now don't get me wrong.  I don't believe God causes or wants all those fertilizer times to happen.  There is still evil and humanity's free will which is the reason behind much suffering.  But God can help us bear fruit from that fertilizer, from the darkness, from the cross moments.  And one day, we just may experience a new shoot of green growth in our lives, a small light that continues to grow, a resurrection story we can share with others.
     As we approach Holy Week and remember the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, reflect on the cross moments in your life that have led to ressurection.  Are you going through some fertilizer times right now?  If so, know that while a seed is slowly dying, soon a small shoot of new green life will appear...and it will grow...and it will bear fruit.

The Reality of the Cross

     We wear them around our necks.  We hoist them up above sanctuaries.  We make them out of rough wood and pure gold.  Crosses are all around us.  Strange to think that an instrument of death is now accepted as an everday sight. 

     We journey to the cross in this Lenten season.  But what happens when we get there?  Are we ready to recognize Jesus' incredible sacrifice?  Do we want to imagine how tortuous it must have been to die in that way?  While I realize there was much criticism regarding the movie The Passion of the Christ, one thing it did do was confront us with the gruesome reality of death.  The blood, the pain, the scars, the agony.  It made us look at Jesus' bloody, spat upon face and vicariously experience with him what his death must have been like.

     The polished gold layered crosses we wear are a far cry from the reality of what they represent: a man, a God, who died a horrible death out of love for you and me.  The cross has been so sentimentalized that for many it has lost the shock and horror it truly represents.  That's why Maundy Thursday and Good Friday are my favorite services.  They bring me down to earth, back to reality, and MAKE me remember that Jesus' suffering was real, and awful, and excruciating. 
     Would you have done it?  Would you have voluntarily agreed to die in that kind of way at the age of 33?  We can hardly voluntarily give up one meal in order to feed another person.  Yet Jesus says, "Take up YOUR cross, and follow me."  Where was he going?  Calvary.  Take up your cross.  Feel its burden and the pain and the sacrifice.  Take up your cross and travel to the place where you too will die.
     Doesn't sound like fun does it?  Maybe that's why it seems like these days it seems like so few Christians really "get it."  So few are willing to die and follow Jesus to Calvary.  A pastor from Africa came to the states to be a guest preacher for a few months.  At a pastor's meeting, an American pastor recognizing the more difficult way of life in Africa, gave the African pastor his sympathies.  "It must be extremely hard to minister over there," he said.  "Not at all," replied the African pastor.  "In fact it must be much harder to minister in the U.S.  After all, how do you teach people about following Jesus if you don't know what suffering is?" 
     This year don't skip too quickly from Palm Sunday to Easter.  Take some time to live into Good Friday.  Ponder the amazing sacrifice that was made for you. Recognize all that it took to voluntarily give up one's life for others.  Then, go and do likewise.
      

Which Caterpillar Are You?



Transformation



A small, earthbound, slow moving caterpillar inches its way along the branch of the tree, munching on the leaves as he crawls along.  Life is OK.  He was surviving.  He eventually finds his best friend, another small earthbound, slow moving caterpillar inching his way along the branch of the tree, munching on leaves as he crawls along.  They talk about the weather, about the tenderness of the leaves, and other such things important to caterpillars.  One of the caterpillars finally got up the courage to say what was on his mind, “So, what do you think about this cocoon thing?”  “Oh, I don’t like it at all,” replied the other caterpillar.  “I heard once you go in, that’s it.  As a caterpillar you die.  You are all cramped up in the tiny space and you start to change and it hurts and its dark.  I’m not going to do it.  How about you?” 

“I don’t know,” answered the first caterpillar.  “They say that what happens is really amazing. And that you can fly and be all colorful.  I’d love to know what it feels like to fly.  I don’t like the thought of being in a cocoon, but I think that afterward, life could be way better.  It’ll be hard and scary, I know.  But I hear that it’s worth it.  I think I might try it.”  Trusting the process of transformation, that caterpillar entered into the cocoon, giving up life as he knew it, and after some painful and scary times, emerged from that cocoon as a beautiful butterfly, floating along the air, living a life he had never dreamed possible.  The other caterpillar remained a small earthbound slow moving creature inching his way along the branch of the tree, munching on the leaves as he crawled along.

Transformation.  The process of dying in order to live.  As this Lenten season begins, we are reminded that God is all about transformation.  In Christ, we are a new creation.  The old is gone and a new life has begun.  But being inside the cocoon is scary, dark, painful, and uncertain.  New life begins in the dark, uncertain times of our life.  In the operating room, in the loneliness, in the doubt, in the trials and tribulations of life.  We worship a God who knows all about this.  Who went through the cocoon of betrayal, mockery, beatings, and crucifixion in order to get to Easter Sunday.  The only way to get to the empty tomb is through the cross.  Jesus asks us to die to ourselves, our ambitions, desires, greed, selfishness, in order to fully live an abundant life in him: a life of love and sacrifice and generosity.  Ponder in this Lenten season whether God is asking you to let a part of you die (a bad habit, over indulgence, frivolous spending, thinking of yourself first) in order for you to truly live.  Yes, it's dark and painful inside that cocoon.  But as the first caterpillar found out: Boy, is it worth it!  Which caterpillar will you be this year?

Recalculating!

I can't imagine how I ever lived without my GPS.  I don't go anywhere without it.  It has been a lifesaver in so many instances.  At the same time, I can't tell you how many times I have made a wrong turn trying to follow my GPS only to hear those words, "Recalculating!"  It means I messed up (again!).  But it also means that this little device is going to help me get back on track, no matter how many "when possible make a u-turn" statements it makes.  Eventually it may take a little longer, but I always get where I intend to go.

Two weeks from today is Ash Wednesday.  In essence, God's Positioning System is telling us to recalculate.  Have you ever been confounded by life?  Confused, lost, without direction. Ever feel like you were always making the wrong choices and going down the wrong path?  We have all gone in some wrong directions, made wrong turns, and gotten off course.  God uses Ash Wednesday as a day to "recalculate."  To take stock of where we are, where we want to be headed, and to make some adjustments in life.  But Ash Wednesday isn't just a way of guilting us into how wrong we have been.  It also helps us to "make a u-turn when possible" and with our faithful obedience, can get us back on the right track.

Wherever you are, go to an Ash Wednesday service this year.  Allow God's Positioning System to recalculate your route in life.  Make some u-turns of repentance of the ways you have strayed.  And get back on the right road this Lenten season.

Under Renovation

As I type this, the sound of hammering is pounding in my ears.  The church started renovations this week.  What a mess!!  The existing internal structure of platforms and carpet were torn out.  Hammering, saws, and other pounding noise fills my days.  Dust and dirt and sawdust fill the air.  Fascinating items have been unearthed such as an old acorn that some critter brought in and left in the church walls as well as old newspaper pages shoved under the old platform dated February 25, 1929. 

Being under renovation is inconvenient to say the least.  The office is cold because the door to the sanctuary (which is not heated) is left open all the time.  People come in to ask me questions.  And it's not the ideal working environment with noise and dust everywhere.

 

Being under renovation is hard, messy work.  It takes skill, strength, patience, and persistence.  It takes a vision to see beyond the mess to what could be, what will soon be.  It takes a set of plans so those involved know the next step and the specifications needed to make that vision a reality.

And yet being under renovation means that something better is coming our way.  The sanctuary gets "worse" before it can be improved and more suitable for use.  It's exciting!  While all I see now is a complete mess, that mess indicates that something newer will be here soon, something we as a church have dreamed about for a long time.

And while our sanctuary is under physical renovation, maybe we as human beings are under renovation too.  Maybe God the Great Contractor wants to tear some things down, some attitudes, some behaviors, some thoughts out of our lives and replace them with more loving, accepting, sacrificial attitudes.  Maybe God is trying to renovate our hearts so that we can become more like Christ.  But in order to do that, it will be inconvenient.  It will be hard and messy.  But it means that we will be created into something better, something more like what we are called to be.

So what do you say?  Do you want to be someone who is under God's renovation?

God Will Make A Way

We all go on journeys in life: college, marriage, new job, retirement.  Journeys begin and end with the rhythm of life.  I've found that spending some time with the Exodus story gives me a better idea how to live out the journeys I travel in life.  Maybe that's why I want to spend 6 weeks preaching on that whole story.  We know bits and pieces of course: crossing the Red Sea, manna and quail in the wilderness, the ten commandments, and finally crossing the Jordan to reach the promised land.  And what strikes me about each scene is that through it all they whine and complain and doubt and beg Moses to go back to slavery in Egypt.

I can relate.  It's easier to live with the slavery we know, the chains we are comfortable with, rather than venture out into uncertainty and the unknown.  It's easier to stay in that job you hate, instead of take the leap to look for another, possibly better job.  It's easier to stay in that relationship that is not right for you, instead of getting back into the dating scene again.  It's easier to stay stuck in the same old routine, in life, in church, in your family, rather than break away from that cycle to do something different.  It's easier to keep silent when we hear racist or hurtful remarks, instead of speaking up and challenging those comments. 

So on one hand, I try not to beat myself up when I have thoughts of going back to Egypt.  When I want to regress and return to a simpler but unhealthy way of life.  At the same time, I remember that God was faithful in leading the Israelites to the promised land.  That even with the whining and complaining and doubting and begging to go back, God persevered with the people God loved so much.  God was faithful to the end.  God is faithful even now.  God will always be faithful.

So when you have moments of regretting your bold decision to move forward in life, or you can't seem to make that decision to break away from the slavery you find yourself in, just remember that God can make a way when there seems to be no way.  God will remain faithful even when we aren't.  Thanks be to God!