In the next couple of months it will be official.
I have been in the pastor business for 25 years. The Synod will recognize me at a Lunch at the Assembly. The church I serve today has given me a cake and applause.
A venerated retired pastor passed on his silver anniversary cross to me at the end of worship last week.
That was awesomecool.
Pastor Les always wears a cross to worship. He has quite a collection from his days in “the business.” He just happened to be wearing his anniversary cross when last week. It was one of those “Spirit moments.” I was preaching about how Jesus promises to send His Spirit to comfort and show us truth and be our Advocate. And then God goes and touches my heart with that very same Spirit in a surprising way.
It really was awesomecool.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Prayer Shawl Blessing
I just got my own prayer shawl.
The “shawlers” were here knitting today and praying for those who they knew were going to be blessed by the shawls. And they picked me too.
There were a couple people with health issues who were getting them, there were plans to support some other people for other reasons. And they picked me too.
As the shawls are knitted or crocheted, the craftswomen pray. There is a meditation, a conscious imaging of God’s love and care that goes into each shawl. And they picked me too.
They let me choose the color (it’s a cool blue). They draped it around my shoulders. I lifted it to cover my head in good Jewish fashion. It sent a tingle into my body and a warmth into my soul.
They want me to use it for my prayer time, and to pray for them too. It is a cycle of prayer and support and love and comfort. And they picked me too.
It’s just so cool!
The “shawlers” were here knitting today and praying for those who they knew were going to be blessed by the shawls. And they picked me too.
There were a couple people with health issues who were getting them, there were plans to support some other people for other reasons. And they picked me too.
As the shawls are knitted or crocheted, the craftswomen pray. There is a meditation, a conscious imaging of God’s love and care that goes into each shawl. And they picked me too.
They let me choose the color (it’s a cool blue). They draped it around my shoulders. I lifted it to cover my head in good Jewish fashion. It sent a tingle into my body and a warmth into my soul.
They want me to use it for my prayer time, and to pray for them too. It is a cycle of prayer and support and love and comfort. And they picked me too.
It’s just so cool!
Monday, April 21, 2008
On The Road Again
(Willie Nelson, in case you were wondering.)
Well, spring time does that to me. I try to find that song and crank it up on the car stereo. And hum it while on the motorcycle. Just the chorus really, I’m not even sure what the rest of the song says. But this time of year, as the ice disappears and the air warms and the sun shines from a higher angle (all important factors in riding joy) I get the urge to be on the road, on the motorcycle. And that chorus just echoes the urge; "I just can't wait to get on the road again."
So in spite of the glacier still on Mille Lacs, I have the bike on the road. It is a 1979 Honda GL 1000, Gold Wing. Before the pharing and bags came standard. I tool the windshield and pharing off last spring because of electrical problems. So it's a chilly ride. Why I am out there already? I love to ride. Period. Not far, mind you. I prefer air conditioning and cruise control and comfy seats for long distances. But there is something about the total presence of the road on a motorcycle.
It echoes to me of Jesus’ call to those who follow him to be in the moment, to live each day as it is, without worry for tomorrow:
"Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day's own trouble be sufficient for the day. Matthew 6:34
On a motorcycle you need to be very much “in the moment,” especially in spring before the potholes get patched. On a motorcycle the fresh spring bugs are very present (maybe I should replace the windshield), the low spots in the valley keep their coolness evident, and the flocks of migrating birds need to be “ducked.”
But the joy in the midst of the challenges is worth the challenges.
The feel of the road, the presence of the beauty, the liveliness of the smells, the camaraderie of the other riders (“We Always Wave” is kind of a “core value”). It’s all so very good.
Just like the journey of faith.
Lots of people in lots of circumstances ask me, as a Pastor, “How do you put up with ________?” (You can fill in the blank; just about anything you choose, I’ve probably answered.) There are challenges.
The only answer is the joy. Jesus and the Spirit grant a deep well of peace, Shalom, wholeness; a reminder that God is good all the time. I live in that promise, so that’s why…
I’m on the journey with you,
Pastor Chris
Well, spring time does that to me. I try to find that song and crank it up on the car stereo. And hum it while on the motorcycle. Just the chorus really, I’m not even sure what the rest of the song says. But this time of year, as the ice disappears and the air warms and the sun shines from a higher angle (all important factors in riding joy) I get the urge to be on the road, on the motorcycle. And that chorus just echoes the urge; "I just can't wait to get on the road again."
So in spite of the glacier still on Mille Lacs, I have the bike on the road. It is a 1979 Honda GL 1000, Gold Wing. Before the pharing and bags came standard. I tool the windshield and pharing off last spring because of electrical problems. So it's a chilly ride. Why I am out there already? I love to ride. Period. Not far, mind you. I prefer air conditioning and cruise control and comfy seats for long distances. But there is something about the total presence of the road on a motorcycle.
It echoes to me of Jesus’ call to those who follow him to be in the moment, to live each day as it is, without worry for tomorrow:
"Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day's own trouble be sufficient for the day. Matthew 6:34
On a motorcycle you need to be very much “in the moment,” especially in spring before the potholes get patched. On a motorcycle the fresh spring bugs are very present (maybe I should replace the windshield), the low spots in the valley keep their coolness evident, and the flocks of migrating birds need to be “ducked.”
But the joy in the midst of the challenges is worth the challenges.
The feel of the road, the presence of the beauty, the liveliness of the smells, the camaraderie of the other riders (“We Always Wave” is kind of a “core value”). It’s all so very good.
Just like the journey of faith.
Lots of people in lots of circumstances ask me, as a Pastor, “How do you put up with ________?” (You can fill in the blank; just about anything you choose, I’ve probably answered.) There are challenges.
The only answer is the joy. Jesus and the Spirit grant a deep well of peace, Shalom, wholeness; a reminder that God is good all the time. I live in that promise, so that’s why…
I’m on the journey with you,
Pastor Chris
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
The Light of a Funeral
The media said nearly a thousand people; I counted 1200+. The public funeral for the 16 year old killed in the bus crash near Albertville, MN on April 5th. The one that sent my daughter to North Memorial Hospital overnight. The one that brought enough fear to my journey to dim the light for a time. That one.
It was harder to bear than I thought. Or maybe I just didn’t spend very much time really thinking about it. Because to really acknowledge Jessica Weishair’s death is to contemplate what a couple of inches and a whole ton of unknown circumstances could have meant for Hannah, my daughter and who really knows how many other kids who walked away, wounded but alive.
There were myriads of flowers. Lots of posters with kids’ grief in colorful marker and simple drawings. There was the combined high school band, in their usual black attire, honoring her with a flower filled empty chair in the flute section. There was the music the band, with amazing poise and stalwart talent, played in her honor. There was Mr. Fitzsimmons, directing with distinction. There were words and stories and scripture and songs. And a deep, deep pain.
All I could manage to say to Jessica’s father: “Each hug is a prayer.”
Pastor Rotvold gave us light, though. I suppose his message is written somewhere for public consumption; I hope so. While I cannot recall quotes from his sermon, do carry away a gentle light to ease my fears and draw my tears. The tears needed to be drawn out from my soul, to drain away some darkness so that light would return His words gave all of us that gift. I must find a way to thank him. His daughter has become one of my daughter’s best friends in the last couple years. What they have been through these last days has welded that connection with a glow that will not easily fade. I must thank him and his wife for that too.
Yes, it was harder than I had anticipated. Even writing here draws tears again. I know the shedding of those tears is part of the healing. I pray it comes for the Weishair family too.
It was harder to bear than I thought. Or maybe I just didn’t spend very much time really thinking about it. Because to really acknowledge Jessica Weishair’s death is to contemplate what a couple of inches and a whole ton of unknown circumstances could have meant for Hannah, my daughter and who really knows how many other kids who walked away, wounded but alive.
There were myriads of flowers. Lots of posters with kids’ grief in colorful marker and simple drawings. There was the combined high school band, in their usual black attire, honoring her with a flower filled empty chair in the flute section. There was the music the band, with amazing poise and stalwart talent, played in her honor. There was Mr. Fitzsimmons, directing with distinction. There were words and stories and scripture and songs. And a deep, deep pain.
All I could manage to say to Jessica’s father: “Each hug is a prayer.”
Pastor Rotvold gave us light, though. I suppose his message is written somewhere for public consumption; I hope so. While I cannot recall quotes from his sermon, do carry away a gentle light to ease my fears and draw my tears. The tears needed to be drawn out from my soul, to drain away some darkness so that light would return His words gave all of us that gift. I must find a way to thank him. His daughter has become one of my daughter’s best friends in the last couple years. What they have been through these last days has welded that connection with a glow that will not easily fade. I must thank him and his wife for that too.
Yes, it was harder than I had anticipated. Even writing here draws tears again. I know the shedding of those tears is part of the healing. I pray it comes for the Weishair family too.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
As Much Of Hannah's Story As I Know
“Hannah”
She was a little aggravated. All the spots to stretch out on the floor for a halfway decent sleep were all gone. Sleeping upright in a bus seat is not high on her favorites list. She’d just had to deal with a bloody nose too and wasn’t sure it was done, so she is half awake.
The bus swerves, was it to the left? Then back, then the tell-tale sound of the rumble bumps and then she is trying to hold on as the bus begins its tip. There is not much to hold on to on a bus seat when it comes right down to it….
The next waking thought is clouded with a bloody face and bodies on top of her; two?, three?, and she’s in a crumpled ball under it all. Vaguely she is aware of screams and some panic. “Get off me! I can’t breathe!” How long before they listen? Then, in the dark band mates trying to leave through the escape hatch in the roof that is now a side wall. “Where’s my pillow?” one girl panics. “Never mind!” Hannah shouts, “This is an emergency! JUST GET OFF THE BUS!”
A chaperone from the other bus is soon by her side, because now she realizes she can’t get out on her own. Both feet are stuck outside the glassless window she is sitting in. Her legs are under her at slightly strange angles. Paul, the chaperone is astounded at her calm. She is beginning to wonder what life might be like with out a foot or two, but is confident of life. The firefighters are there too. One stays with her and Paul until he figures out how to use a little saw blade to dig her out. An hour and a half. She asks about the kids in the front of the bus, she knows there are others trapped, but they won’t tell her anything. “You just worry about taking care of you here,” is all they say. As her legs finally pull free, the sensation returns to her feet and “It just kills!” It is that tingling sensation when your arm “goes to sleep” only “50 times.”
They get her out through the roof hatch, on the back-board, they put the cervical collar on. “I’m fine,” she insists, but they have a job to do. She is the first of the trapped students to get out. They decide she needs to be airlifted to the trauma center at North Memorial in Robbinsdale. “I’m fine,” she insists, to no avail.
“It was a beautiful sunrise from the helicopter,” she reports later. She is able to give home and cell numbers to the medics in the chopper, who in turn, give them to the outreach worker at the hospital who then calls her parents.
Once she woke up on the bottom of the pile in the bus, she is awake and alert through the whole thing.
X-rays show no damage, CT scan reveal suspected minor internal bleeding. She has significant “road rash” on her face and arms but her legs are remarkably unscathed. She credits the thick sweat pants she was wearing. She is a dirty mess, though. Grass and dirt and little chunks of gravel keep falling from her hair and hands and head and arms. Every bed she is on she leaves her outline in dirt on the sheets. She doesn’t really get fully cleaned up until late on Sunday. Her nurses and mother and aunts and friends keep helping her pick away at the mess; strands of hair that were scraped out of her scalp by the rough ride on the bottom of the pile she keeps handing to her father for him to throw away.She recovers quickly. The foot she could not put weight on at all on Saturday she is walking on by Sunday afternoon. Blood tests that were causing minor concern for internal bleeding normalize by Sunday morning. The physical therapist that did her pre-release assessment was surprised to let her go with no restrictions. Her trauma doctor recommends a week off from school.
She was a little aggravated. All the spots to stretch out on the floor for a halfway decent sleep were all gone. Sleeping upright in a bus seat is not high on her favorites list. She’d just had to deal with a bloody nose too and wasn’t sure it was done, so she is half awake.
The bus swerves, was it to the left? Then back, then the tell-tale sound of the rumble bumps and then she is trying to hold on as the bus begins its tip. There is not much to hold on to on a bus seat when it comes right down to it….
The next waking thought is clouded with a bloody face and bodies on top of her; two?, three?, and she’s in a crumpled ball under it all. Vaguely she is aware of screams and some panic. “Get off me! I can’t breathe!” How long before they listen? Then, in the dark band mates trying to leave through the escape hatch in the roof that is now a side wall. “Where’s my pillow?” one girl panics. “Never mind!” Hannah shouts, “This is an emergency! JUST GET OFF THE BUS!”
A chaperone from the other bus is soon by her side, because now she realizes she can’t get out on her own. Both feet are stuck outside the glassless window she is sitting in. Her legs are under her at slightly strange angles. Paul, the chaperone is astounded at her calm. She is beginning to wonder what life might be like with out a foot or two, but is confident of life. The firefighters are there too. One stays with her and Paul until he figures out how to use a little saw blade to dig her out. An hour and a half. She asks about the kids in the front of the bus, she knows there are others trapped, but they won’t tell her anything. “You just worry about taking care of you here,” is all they say. As her legs finally pull free, the sensation returns to her feet and “It just kills!” It is that tingling sensation when your arm “goes to sleep” only “50 times.”
They get her out through the roof hatch, on the back-board, they put the cervical collar on. “I’m fine,” she insists, but they have a job to do. She is the first of the trapped students to get out. They decide she needs to be airlifted to the trauma center at North Memorial in Robbinsdale. “I’m fine,” she insists, to no avail.
“It was a beautiful sunrise from the helicopter,” she reports later. She is able to give home and cell numbers to the medics in the chopper, who in turn, give them to the outreach worker at the hospital who then calls her parents.
Once she woke up on the bottom of the pile in the bus, she is awake and alert through the whole thing.
X-rays show no damage, CT scan reveal suspected minor internal bleeding. She has significant “road rash” on her face and arms but her legs are remarkably unscathed. She credits the thick sweat pants she was wearing. She is a dirty mess, though. Grass and dirt and little chunks of gravel keep falling from her hair and hands and head and arms. Every bed she is on she leaves her outline in dirt on the sheets. She doesn’t really get fully cleaned up until late on Sunday. Her nurses and mother and aunts and friends keep helping her pick away at the mess; strands of hair that were scraped out of her scalp by the rough ride on the bottom of the pile she keeps handing to her father for him to throw away.She recovers quickly. The foot she could not put weight on at all on Saturday she is walking on by Sunday afternoon. Blood tests that were causing minor concern for internal bleeding normalize by Sunday morning. The physical therapist that did her pre-release assessment was surprised to let her go with no restrictions. Her trauma doctor recommends a week off from school.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Wednesday Hannah Update
Be sure to check back here for more information.
I looked more carefully at the video footage of the crash site, saw a couple angles that I had not before. It is astounding. The wider view I found on the CNN website really shows how far the bus slid on its side. I have told some folks in person that it seems as if a couple inches one way or the other made a life-saving difference for the girls who survivied. Now I am even more sure of that.
Hannah spent yesterday involved in grief response events sponsored by her school, Pelican Rapids High. They have a great crisis response plan in place and they are really helping the kids (and their parents) face this event.
The road-rash on her face and arms continues to aggravate and her ankle is uncomfortable. But she is glad to be back with her friends and amazed at the new connections they are all making. Their support community, the deepening of casual aquaintance to supporting friend, is a wonder to behold. It is not "just hugs," it is heart connections, and it spilled over to parents and the rest of the community. And even to surrounding towns. Sports rivals are now supportive cheerleaders and prayer warriors. Fierce competitors now shed gentle tears of compassion. These are the links I elluded to last night. These are the grace of Jesus that are along side us as we walk a darkened path. These are the touch of Christ that warm our hearts on the cold road.
I pray they soak into the lives of all who were touched by this, and especially the family of the girl who died.
I looked more carefully at the video footage of the crash site, saw a couple angles that I had not before. It is astounding. The wider view I found on the CNN website really shows how far the bus slid on its side. I have told some folks in person that it seems as if a couple inches one way or the other made a life-saving difference for the girls who survivied. Now I am even more sure of that.
Hannah spent yesterday involved in grief response events sponsored by her school, Pelican Rapids High. They have a great crisis response plan in place and they are really helping the kids (and their parents) face this event.
The road-rash on her face and arms continues to aggravate and her ankle is uncomfortable. But she is glad to be back with her friends and amazed at the new connections they are all making. Their support community, the deepening of casual aquaintance to supporting friend, is a wonder to behold. It is not "just hugs," it is heart connections, and it spilled over to parents and the rest of the community. And even to surrounding towns. Sports rivals are now supportive cheerleaders and prayer warriors. Fierce competitors now shed gentle tears of compassion. These are the links I elluded to last night. These are the grace of Jesus that are along side us as we walk a darkened path. These are the touch of Christ that warm our hearts on the cold road.
I pray they soak into the lives of all who were touched by this, and especially the family of the girl who died.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Funny Links
Funny how emotions can be so physical.
Funny how integrated we are as humans.
Funny how interconnected we are as people.
Funny how diverse the manifestations of our various relationships.
Funny how stopping to observe those funny links turns into a source of strength.
Funny how I need a nap anyway.
More about this when I don't need a nap.
Funny how integrated we are as humans.
Funny how interconnected we are as people.
Funny how diverse the manifestations of our various relationships.
Funny how stopping to observe those funny links turns into a source of strength.
Funny how I need a nap anyway.
More about this when I don't need a nap.
Extra Light
This was the last in this month's series of "radio spots." They can be heard from time to time on 104.3 FM (KLKS) out of Breezy Point Minnesota. We will be offering this radio version of Light for your Journey from time to time. This is actually the 3rd series I have done.
This one really fell into place after this last weekends events (see the Hannah Update blog). I was planning to add it to Sunday's sermon (and did, actually). I had written it last week. But it spoke to my own heart's need for Extra light.
It is so great when the days start getting longer and there is more light! Living here in the northland we have to add extra light so much of the time, just to get anything done.
We try to offer some of that extra light at Light of the Cross Church because we know there are dark times in everyone’s life. We also know that the cross of Jesus, his life, his gifts, his love, and his resurrection, can give us more light than we’ll ever need. Sometimes it’s a real challenge to get the light of Jesus to shine on the dark parts of our lives. But that is exactly what we strive for on Sunday mornings and in ministry all week long: to offer you more light, more hope, more life. I think you’ll see that when you come by.
I'm on the journey with you.
This one really fell into place after this last weekends events (see the Hannah Update blog). I was planning to add it to Sunday's sermon (and did, actually). I had written it last week. But it spoke to my own heart's need for Extra light.
It is so great when the days start getting longer and there is more light! Living here in the northland we have to add extra light so much of the time, just to get anything done.
We try to offer some of that extra light at Light of the Cross Church because we know there are dark times in everyone’s life. We also know that the cross of Jesus, his life, his gifts, his love, and his resurrection, can give us more light than we’ll ever need. Sometimes it’s a real challenge to get the light of Jesus to shine on the dark parts of our lives. But that is exactly what we strive for on Sunday mornings and in ministry all week long: to offer you more light, more hope, more life. I think you’ll see that when you come by.
I'm on the journey with you.
April Ode
This is another "radio spot" offering.
April is a weird month, especially in Minnesota. The world is a warmer place, and it is supposed to be spring, but it seems like winter with mud and gooey dirt roads and a stray blizzard here and there, just won’t let go.
In some ways April in Minnesota is like being a follower of Jesus. Jesus promises us that something really awesome is on the way, and we get little tastes of it all the time, like spring flowers and love. But our mistakes and fears muck it up and put ruts in our road that can leave our lives really messed up.
At Light of the Cross Church we try to offer a little help through that messy journey. We try to remind everyone of the power of forgiveness and the joy of love. We try to be the showers of April to refresh your life.
I'm on the journey with you.
April is a weird month, especially in Minnesota. The world is a warmer place, and it is supposed to be spring, but it seems like winter with mud and gooey dirt roads and a stray blizzard here and there, just won’t let go.
In some ways April in Minnesota is like being a follower of Jesus. Jesus promises us that something really awesome is on the way, and we get little tastes of it all the time, like spring flowers and love. But our mistakes and fears muck it up and put ruts in our road that can leave our lives really messed up.
At Light of the Cross Church we try to offer a little help through that messy journey. We try to remind everyone of the power of forgiveness and the joy of love. We try to be the showers of April to refresh your life.
I'm on the journey with you.
Alleluia what?
This is one of my recent offerings for our "radio spot ministry."
Alleluia! You can hear that word in church, or maybe even in everyday conversation. Halleluia?
What does that word even mean? You could go check the dictionary, but let me offer this idea. It’s a way for people, who are just a little fired up with joy, to say “Good Job God!”
At Light of the Cross Church we use it because we are pretty darn happy about what God has done for the world. The whole deal about Jesus dying on a cross and then rising from the dead, that whole Easter and Resurrection thing really means a lot to us.
So we sing Alleluia and we say it; we want the world to know God does great things. We want you to know that God is awesome, so if you hear a Halleluiah from us, that’s what its all about.
I’m on the journey with you.
Alleluia! You can hear that word in church, or maybe even in everyday conversation. Halleluia?
What does that word even mean? You could go check the dictionary, but let me offer this idea. It’s a way for people, who are just a little fired up with joy, to say “Good Job God!”
At Light of the Cross Church we use it because we are pretty darn happy about what God has done for the world. The whole deal about Jesus dying on a cross and then rising from the dead, that whole Easter and Resurrection thing really means a lot to us.
So we sing Alleluia and we say it; we want the world to know God does great things. We want you to know that God is awesome, so if you hear a Halleluiah from us, that’s what its all about.
I’m on the journey with you.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Hannah Update
Here is a quick update on Hannah:
We brought Hannah home Sunday night. Here is what we brought her home from:
http://www.startribune.com/local/17342224.html
Thank you for your concern and prayers.
We brought her home to Garrison on Sunday night after she was released from the North Memorial in Robbinsdale. She had been airlifted to that trauma unit after being freed from the Albertville bus crash.
Her lower legs were pinned under the bus for about an hour and a half.
There had been some concern late Saturday for some internal bleeding, but that has resolved on its own. Her right ankle is going to be sore for some time, but there is not apparent permanent damage and she is walking with little discomfort. Her face and arms were badly scraped, but that is healing as well. The doctor has suggested a week off from school and limited activity, but she is eager to return to her friends and community.
We brought Hannah home Sunday night. Here is what we brought her home from:
http://www.startribune.com/local/17342224.html
Thank you for your concern and prayers.
We brought her home to Garrison on Sunday night after she was released from the North Memorial in Robbinsdale. She had been airlifted to that trauma unit after being freed from the Albertville bus crash.
Her lower legs were pinned under the bus for about an hour and a half.
There had been some concern late Saturday for some internal bleeding, but that has resolved on its own. Her right ankle is going to be sore for some time, but there is not apparent permanent damage and she is walking with little discomfort. Her face and arms were badly scraped, but that is healing as well. The doctor has suggested a week off from school and limited activity, but she is eager to return to her friends and community.
One of those dark spots in the road
There are those dark places in the road. When I was a kid I would get nervous where the light of the street lights on our little town failed, or where the yard light faded from view on our country road where I lived. Nothing ever happened there. Nothing ever came out of the dark. But my heart and my feet both moved much faster anyway.
It felt a little like that on Saturday when we heard of the bus crash. Was that our daughter’s bus? Was she hurt? What about the other kids and parents? How can we find out? The answers came slowly out of the darkness; it felt a little like ooze creeping into our hearts when fears were realized and hospitals called and more questions followed what little information we had.
Prayer words were few; mostly it was unformed emotion, churning under the surface, or erupting into tears; sighs too deep for words.
The extra light we talk about showing and sharing at Light of the Cross eventually found its way into the day. People, mostly, who shone with hope, or compassion, or competence, or confidence, or (in our daughter’s case) stubborn assertiveness, or (in the chaplain’s case) simple Christ-like presence. It was all more than we needed. It was all Jesus. It was light.
It has taken me a couple days to be totally aware of it. It took gathering with the people of the Church and “breaking the bread” to feel the light soak into my soul.
Hannah is fine. She was released from the hospital on Sunday night, hardly a day after being admitted. Nothing broken. Internally mending. Hardly limping. Eager to face, well, I guess, her own unknown. Eager to be light in the lives of her friends who will need her. Eager to walk with the rest of her town through the darkness of grief for a friend lost.
She (we) will need your prayers.
It felt a little like that on Saturday when we heard of the bus crash. Was that our daughter’s bus? Was she hurt? What about the other kids and parents? How can we find out? The answers came slowly out of the darkness; it felt a little like ooze creeping into our hearts when fears were realized and hospitals called and more questions followed what little information we had.
Prayer words were few; mostly it was unformed emotion, churning under the surface, or erupting into tears; sighs too deep for words.
The extra light we talk about showing and sharing at Light of the Cross eventually found its way into the day. People, mostly, who shone with hope, or compassion, or competence, or confidence, or (in our daughter’s case) stubborn assertiveness, or (in the chaplain’s case) simple Christ-like presence. It was all more than we needed. It was all Jesus. It was light.
It has taken me a couple days to be totally aware of it. It took gathering with the people of the Church and “breaking the bread” to feel the light soak into my soul.
Hannah is fine. She was released from the hospital on Sunday night, hardly a day after being admitted. Nothing broken. Internally mending. Hardly limping. Eager to face, well, I guess, her own unknown. Eager to be light in the lives of her friends who will need her. Eager to walk with the rest of her town through the darkness of grief for a friend lost.
She (we) will need your prayers.
Friday, April 4, 2008
The Beginning of A New Journey
Today I begin an new thing. It is an echo of other things I have done before; newsletter articles, radio spots, "holy-day" letters; but it is a new way to be on the journey with you.
The life of faith is a journey. If you know me, you know I think that. I've said it before. It's not an original idea either. It IS a notion that appeals to my sense of direction. It is a notion that seems to reflect what the Bible teaches about life and loving Jesus.
So what I put here will be map fragments from the journey I am on. From the journey we are on. There will be things here that won't "fit" in our church newsletter. There will be things here that are beyond what I can say in 45 seconds on the radio (KLKS 104.3, you can help financially support those messages; see the church newsletter and the website).
I will probably get into commentary on the life I see around me. It might not be benign. It might not be what you are used to hearing from me, unless you are a part of the Friday Happy Hour (Bible Study and a Whole Lot More). But even those opinions are only precursors for what you may find here.
In it all, my goal will be "Light from the Cross." Things that can help give you directions on your journey.
I'm on the journey with you.
The life of faith is a journey. If you know me, you know I think that. I've said it before. It's not an original idea either. It IS a notion that appeals to my sense of direction. It is a notion that seems to reflect what the Bible teaches about life and loving Jesus.
So what I put here will be map fragments from the journey I am on. From the journey we are on. There will be things here that won't "fit" in our church newsletter. There will be things here that are beyond what I can say in 45 seconds on the radio (KLKS 104.3, you can help financially support those messages; see the church newsletter and the website).
I will probably get into commentary on the life I see around me. It might not be benign. It might not be what you are used to hearing from me, unless you are a part of the Friday Happy Hour (Bible Study and a Whole Lot More). But even those opinions are only precursors for what you may find here.
In it all, my goal will be "Light from the Cross." Things that can help give you directions on your journey.
I'm on the journey with you.
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