All that Matters

"You'll find a colt. Untie and bring it."
"A woman will pour out expensive perfume. Let her be."
"You'll see a guy with a jug of water. Follow him home."

In the fourteenth chapter of Mark, Jesus gives the above directions to his disciples on the road to Jerusalem. It all must have been surreal - these disjointed, random strangers and events that occur right in line with Jesus' prediction.

I imaging that following Jesus on his entry (palms waving, people shouting) was both exciting and exhausting for the disciples. When they finally reached the upper room, they probably reclined, poured some wine and settled in for a good night of conversation about the days events.
But not Jesus.
His heart was heavy.
He'd already been handed over by Judas - and he knew it. (Mark 14:10-11) As he looked around the table, his heart must have ached as he pictured each of his beloved friends scattering like sheep. (Mark 14:27-31)

"A rooster will crow twice - and you will betray me.. but don't worry, I won't betray you, " he tells them.

When I was in elementary Sunday School, I remember distinctly reading Jesus' words to Peter (above) and actually feeling a chill come over me. I knew that if I was in that situation, I would be just Peter. I'd run. It gave me a chill to think that Jesus "saw through" Peter ... and despite this still loved him.

Since then, I have certainly psychoanylzed my "chill" response to this scripture and, in fact, I have never told anyone of how deeply it effected me.. for fear of being labeled an emotional child with anxiety related to blah, blah, blah.

But I believe now that that chill I felt was conviction. The truth of human nature as relayed in the Gospel is powerful. No matter our age, it can convict us.

The story of Holy Week convicts my daughter who asked me yesterday to tell her again about Jesus and the cross. She popped her head up from the pillow and interupted, asking, "Was the Holy Spirit there?" When I assured her, yes, the Holy Spirit was there - she was relieved. She put her head back down. "Good," she said.

If the Gospel doesn't convict us, if we don't see ourselves in this drama of Christ dying for us, than we are missing the grace it offers.

So here I publicly and openly "blog" that, as a third grader, the sound of the cock crowing haunted me.. and still haunts me.

Can I stick by Jesus on this road that leads to a hellish place known as the skull?

Holy Week is almost here.

Will I deny him this year?

On Palm Sunday, I am pretty confident I can make the steps. I am pretty sure I am strong enough to go with my Lord.

But when I clean up the palms from the pews this Sunday afternoon, I know the truth. I am no different than Peter.
By Good Friday, I will be weeping in the church pew.
Because I can't go with him.
I run.
I hide.
My love fails.
But it's okay. His love remains steadfast. And that is all that matters.

Freaking Me Out

One of the junior high students pointed out to me last Sunday night, that she just realized that our church has two identical paintings.
“Did you ever notice that, Pastor Faith?” she asked, as she pointed to the portrait of Jesus Christ hanging above the sound booth in our sanctuary.
“Yeah,” I replied, “We like Jesus around here.”
“But it’s the same picture. Twice. That’s freaking me out,” she said and walked away.
I disregarded her comment as dramatic for the sake of being dramatic. But then I thought about it some more. She is right that there are two identical pictures in the church.

At the front of the sanctuary hangs an oval framed copy of Warner Sallman’s “Head of Christ.” In the back of the church, hangs the same 1940’s Sallman painting except this one framed in a smaller, simpler, square frame. A person could be a bit freaked out, I suppose, especially if they never saw any other depictions of Christ besides the body-less, blonde man.
I appreciate Sallman’s “Head of Christ” as an American Icon. I know it is the most popular depiction of Jesus. When I travelled to Korea, I saw it hanging on the walls of a Sunday school classroom. It doesn’t freak me out, so to speak, because I have since learned that Sallman’s Head of Christ has been reproduced over 500 million times.
Like the “Head of Christ,” the scripture for this weeks lectionary (John 3:14-21) holds a particularly famous passage which is overly familiar to many of us. The words of John 3:16 have been reproduced in greeting cards, coffee mugs and neck ties.. even lifted up on cardboard behind the goal post at football games. It is a great scripture – it is worth repeating.. but, I wonder has it lost it's impact from being overly used?

The truth of the verse, that God loved us so much that he sent us his only Son.. Does it continue to speak deeply to your soul when you see it again and again.... or does it become commonplance... and "hang" in your life like a painting you see everywhere and take for granted? I just wonder…

Spiritual Spring Cleaning

Cleaning the house is always a challenge for me. Before I left to come to Florida, I attempted to conduct some minimal spring cleaning. You would think that since we haven’t even lived in this house a year, that this would be easy. Not to mention that in the 7 months we have lived here, I have had folks help me get a jumpstart on cleaning. For instance, my sister visited last month and reorganized my linen closet and kitchen pantry. This had not already been done once by my best friend who visited last November. (Hmmm.. wait a minute.. so much for the theory that guests are “like fish” after three days. Mine don’t smell - they scrub!)
The season of Lent is an opportunity to do some spiritual house cleaning. Through intentional disciplines and self-sacrifice, we hope to clear away distractions and open ourselves to God’s grace. This can be just as much of a challenge as housework. How will I find the time? Will I be able to keep it up? Why vacuum cookie crumbs that just reappear in 24 hours?
I was pondering the concept of spiritual spring cleaning, while vacuuming up cookie, cracker and who knows what. I had slipped into that “vacuuming zone” – you know the one? Where the world is blocked out by the hummm of the Hoover? I admit I enjoy the inner quiet that I find in the “vacuuming zone.” For an opposite reason. my older daughter Julianna loves the loud vacuum because it is the perfect time to sing at the top of her lungs.
While in this “zone,” I stopped paying attention to our 15-month old daughter Sophia. She had been toddling around the living room as I was cleaning. When I turned to check her whereabouts, I was shocked to discover her innocently sitting in the “wake” of my cleaning path, shredding up tissue with vigor.
My first reaction was, “AAAH! Futility!” I remembered the Greek myth of Sisyphus. How his punishment was to push a boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll down again. Repeating this again and again through eternity. I lamented. Would I ever have a clean house? Would someone always undo my effort? Then, my hardened heart of self-pity was softened as I saw her innocent delight in shredding tissue.
She possessed as much determination and focus in shredding Kleenex as I had in vacuuming. Like mother, like daughter. It seemed she was cleaning in her own way. She was, in her mind, playing house. I turned off the vacuum and grabbed a camera, which upset her because I jolted her out of her own “vacuum zone”.. and the party was over. . The photo is that precise moment.
Lent is a fine time to get absorbed in our relationship with God. But it also can become a time of getting absorbed in the dirt, dust and the clutter of our human nature. That is not the point of taking on a spiritual discipline. Our focus ought to be on spending time with God in a new way. A way that changes us and makes us more like Jesus.The grace of Lent is that we can set aside time to draw closer to God who enjoys us. Maybe God, like Sophia, cares less about the cookie crumbs that we strive to get rid of – but more about being with us for the journey.

Betcha Can't Eat Just One

Remember the advertising slogan "Betcha Can't Eat Just One"? It was in reference to potato chips. It was saying that the snack was so good, you would not be able to stop. As I enjoy these last hours of Shrove Tuesday (or Fat Tuesday or Mardi Gras) I wonder: Will I have the self-discipline to keep my Lenten promise? There is that voice that vexes me, like the slogan, telling me to bet against myself.

Traditionally, Shrove Tuesday is the night when each of us indulge in our guilty pleasure before the 40 day season of Lent begins. The logic being, perhaps, that we get it out of our system? Or more practically, we rid our house of the sweets (or other temptations) so that we don't have to face them when we open the pantry. Clear out the cookie jars, the wine racks, the ice cream in the freezer. No wonder this holiday has wide appeal. At Olivet Church tonight, people gather for a Pancake Supper which falls right in line with this Christian tradition of purging before Lent.

However, I am not in Lusby pigging out on pancakes.

I am visiting my mom who is battling a disease which leaves her with no appetite. She sat tonight picking at her pasta. It's fine, she tells me, I just have no appetite. I ask her if there is anything she craves. No, everyone asks that, she tells me. What about chocolate? What about a potato chip? Betcha can't eat just one of those! But alas, she has no appetite for any of these things that most of us would give up for Lent.

In this moment, I realize the irony. Like many of us, my mom has sought to control her desire for those "sinful sweets" her whole life. My earliest memory of her is when she would run from our house, cutting through the backyard, to reach the Goshen Dairy ice cream shop before it closed. I have her same sweet tooth. Wouldn't a loss of appetite be a welcomed change? It certainly would be an easy way to "get through" Lent.

But today, as I watched her, I began to see that our appetite is a gift. Sure it can lead to temptation. It could result in poor choices. But our appetite is what gives us life. It provides an entry point for God to meet us in our human desire. We have the potential to have appetites for all sorts of things, God's grace included.

My mom's appetite for food has been dulled. She won't be joining in any pancake suppers tonight. But her appetite for God's grace is just as huge. She hungers His peace. She takes second and third helpings of the fellowship of Christian believers. She would, figuratively speaking, sneak out the back door tonight and run toward His sweet spirit!

Lent doesn't have to be about suppressing our desire - in fact, trouble arises when we try to deny our desires. Instead, Lent can be a time of deepening our desire – our desire simply needs a holy focus. Lent can be a time of letting ourselves go in our Holy desires. How great to indulge in these! There is no shame in pigging out on God’s love, peace, hope, joy.
The depths of our spirituality does not depend upon changing the things we do, but in doing for God what we ordinarily do for ourselves. --Brother Lawrence

Mountain Top Experiences

When I lived in Los Angeles, my favorite place to relax and be with my thoughts was up in the Canyons above Pepperdine University. (The picture here is of one those winding paths.) In the clear air, looking out over the sparkling Pacific Ocean, the sun was close and God's presence felt even closer.


In the Bible, whenever someone heads up a mountain, God shows up. Mountains, in ancient times, were the geographical places where God descended to meet those who ascended. Climbing a mountain, like seeking the Lord, takes effort and willpower.

Elijiah fled up the mountain when life looked like failure after failure. He set out on a forty day journey up Mt Horeb (or Sinai) the same mountain where Moses received the 10 Commandments. On this tiresome journey, he ate the food God prepared (cakes, yum) and when he reached the place, God asked him "What are you doing here?" (That interrogation always puzzled me.) But anyway, on that mountain God spoke a sweet, still voice of encouragement and Elijiah was able to go back down the mountain and face his foes and failures. (1 Kings 19:1-12)


This week in our scripture reading, Jesus heads up a mountain with three of his disciples. (Mark 9: 2-10 ) and there a strange, dazzling change takes place in Jesus. He is transfigured, his clothes turn bright white and two strangers appear beside him. The Bible tells us it was Elijah and Moses, hanging out talking to Jesus. But I wonder how anyone knew it was Moses (did he look like Charlton Heston? Cause Moses to me will always be the Moses in Cecile DeMille's classic film) Somehow, the disciples knew who Jesus was with and they were terrified. Peter freaks out and blurts something out about how nice it would be to put a plaque here, or build a monument to remember this by. That's when God's voice resounds - and tells them to listen to Jesus, because he is the Son of God.


(Poor peter, he always is quick to act and then ends up getting shut down, put back in his place or even called Satan. )


They descend the mountain and Jesus tells them to be quiet about what they saw and heard.


Likewise, when we have up-close experiences of God - perhaps on a retreat, in our private devotion, or at an arena where thousands worship and the Holy Spirit is really kicking.. there is still a need for us to "come down" the mountain, not build a shrine, and maybe not even talk a lot about what we saw. Because we see in the Gospel, that the work of God was incomplete on that mountain. God's command is for the disciples to listen - and Jesus follows up with a reminder them that listening means keeping your mouth shut. (I think of school teachers that would say, keep your ears open and your mouths shut!)

Perhaps, like St. Francis of Assisi advised, we witness to God more loudly, when use less words. (He said Preach the gospel at all times, and if necessary use words.)

Have you ever loved something only to find that the effect was missing for those you sought to share it with? Maybe a book that “changed” your life? Or a movie? Or a favorite hiking spot? What about a revival or retreat?

I ask all of this aware that I am more like Peter, quick to do respond, start something whenever I have a glimpse of God’s glory.. and the scripture reminds me to value a silent witness.

For me a take-home truth is sometimes mountain top experiences call us to “be” – not “do”. Doing can cheapen the grace of the event, turn the experience into an idol, not drag others up our Great God Moment Mountain. but just let those moments resonate in our soul. In hiking the Malibu Canyon paths, I would try to convince others of it’s value.. but I found no one seemed to enjoy it the way I did. What was for me a profound God Moment was for them just another dusty trail through a canyon.

Tree by the River

Imagine a tree planted firmly alongside a rough, raging river. Next, imagine standing alongside the tree. There, to your shock, you look down and see a person in distress - caught in the turbulent water, holding on to a piece of their broken raft which is lodged in useen rocks below the surface.

What do you do? How do you rescue the person in trouble?
You certainly could jump in with both feet -but you would likely be carried away by the water, placing yourself in need of rescue. You could stand on the side and shout words of instruction or comfort. This would assure your safety.. but might not save the victim. Finally, you could use the firm stability of the tree to anchor yourself as you extend help.

This image descibes the "ministry moment" - the moment when we meet someone in crisis and we begin to strategize on how to respond.

In my life, there are times when I've applied each of the techniques. I have stood on the side and offered suggestions, I have also jumped in without recognizing how I was placing myself in danger.

For me, the tree planted firmly by the raging water represents the solid resources that are available whenever we help people in crisis. None of us are expected to do it on our own. The tree also symbolizes our faith in Jesus Christ who is always present as a source of strength in crisis. We must remain tethered to him - and tethered to good resources that keep us from being pulled down stream.

I share this because in the last 6 weeks, I haven't written because I was (going with this imagery) in rescue mode with my family. Sometimes holding on to the tree, other times clinging to a broken raft. Always catching my breath and trying to find solid footing.

I have found the solid footing of Jesus Christ in everything from my morning devotional (the upper room), bible study with other pastors, listening to Christian music, conversations with Christian friends.. and suprisingly, even from the recent movie we showed at church, FIREPROOF.

If anything has changed since I last wrote, it is that I can testify even more strongly that the only way to weather the storms of life is to be tethered to the unshakable love of Christ.

Beneath the Stars

The star of Epiphany has me thinking and looking upward to the heavens This last month, there has been a bright star at sunset, it is Venus I guess. It must have been spectacular to see the star above Bethlehem. But the story of Epiphany isn’t just about the star – it is about finding Christ around us.. and identifying the signs that point us to Him.

This New Years Eve, I was asleep by 10pm and startled awake at midnight by the sound of fireworks and the neighbor boys jumping up and down and screaming on their porch outside my bedroom window. As I tried to return to sleep, I began to recall New Year’s Past.
For instance, when I was in junior hight, I too went out on my porch at midnight to blast my french horn in a very loud Auld Lange Sine. I certainly awoke my share of sleeping neighbors.

But there was New Years Eve, when I was not on my front porch, but at a party.. and right before the stroke of midnight, I ran outside to be alone and look up at the stars. Outside in the cold, it was just me and the bareness of the field, the hollow sounds of celebration from houses in the distance. That New Year’s Eve, I stood looking up at the stars and felt my heart ache for something greater. It was there that I I had an epiphany, as they say. It was that my true self was not to be found back at that party, or even out alone in the field.. That my true identity rested in God. I felt that there must be a purpose for my life, and I desperately wanted to know it. The peace I felt that night, was a sense that I just needed to keep on the path. Under the stars, I felt deep peace that God was setting the direction if I could just keep following His star.

All of us have a star we must follow – Following stars is not easy, even the wisemen stopped and asked for directions. But all of us have a course that God has charted, and the star always leads us closer to the love and grace of Jesus Christ.