I told you recently about how I had a prolific period of writing several years ago as I wrote against a deadline for a monthly Communion Meditation that I delivered at our church. One thing I did not relate was that I felt so tremendously excited each time I stepped up to the pulpit in our church to speak.
When I say excited, what I mean is that I was never sure if what I had written was entirely appropriate. And because I am a stutterer, I can never totally rely on my fluency. But I trusted in the Lord and in his call and I always did a great deal of preparation. After I had prepared a draft I would read it aloud as I walked to work. And I would practice in the mirror. And I would keep my accounts short with God and try to keep my conscience clear. And that whole process of wrestling with my humanity and brokenness while reaching out to receive God’s grace made me feel very alive.
Another thing I did not tell you is that I am rejoining the Communion Meditation team and below is a draft of what I hope to say the first time I step to the pulpit.
Tiny Little Benches
Several weeks ago I attended the funeral of a high school classmate. Anne Marie Roscka was more than my high school classmate; she and I attended Sunday School together when we were kids. And every time I visited my home church she would enthusiastically embrace me and conduct a thorough review of all the memories we made while sitting on those tiny little benches and learning about Jesus and his love. We would talk about our Sunday School teachers, mentioning them by name. They always wore hats and dresses. We would sing “Deep and Wide” and “Jesus Loves Me”. Most of our little songs had motions. We got a little star on the chart for every Sunday we attended and a little prize for perfect attendance for the quarter. And before we left the room we would each receive a take-home-paper.
It occurred to me, as I began my road trip up to the funeral, that I may have an opportunity, at her service, to address the people and say a few words in honor of the memory of my friend and our cherished experiences. So I began to mentally compose and orally practice some appropriate thoughts as I drove along. But I just could not think of anything that sounded suitable even though I thought that my memories might be meaningful and unique. And my mind was occupied with these thoughts right up until the time when the minister invited anyone with something to say in honor of Anne to come forward and do so.
Anne had never married. She became a school teacher and spent her entire career teaching the deaf and other special needs students. Many of her deaf students owed their high school diploma to Anne’s relentless dedication to their character and education. She was a fixture in the community, often signing for the deaf at community and educational events. I learned more about Anne than I had ever imagined as a steady stream of past and current students told about how Anne had changed their lives. She sponsored and mentored a generation of students in Student Council and 4H activities. They told how she drove them to every corner of the state in her big black Jeep Commander to attend Student Council conferences. She accepted nothing but their best as they practiced for 4H competitions. Her colleagues told of the sacrifices she made for her students and staff. Several of her nieces and nephews came forward and wept openly as they told how she always made special time for them at family events, and the first thing she ever taught them, before they could speak, was how to make the sign for “I Love You”.
I decided to be a good listener and let others speak. Because what I had was warm memories and nostalgia about another place and time. But what these people had was a person, a relationship, a life, Anne is a part of who they are. They lived with her every day. They loved her and she loved them. She gave her very life for these people and as they live she also will live.
As I drove home that day I thought about the difference between my experience and that of the people I heard speak that day. And it made me think about this moment…as we come to this Table of Remembrance. As I take the bread that reminds me of the complete dedication and supreme sacrifice that Jesus made for me…and as I take the cup that reminds me of his life that he poured out so that I might live, am I honoring a memory, as important and valid as that may be? Or am I honoring a life, a person, a relationship? Can I say with tears that this Jesus who lived and died for me has changed my life…has taught me the sign for “I Love You” and lives on as I live?
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
Happy Day Express
I grew up in one of those Christian homes you sometimes hear about where we went to church every time the doors were opened, regardless of special television events, job opportunities, family reunions, minor illnesses or sullen teenage behavior.
We had a small Youth Group and I was often the only boy who couldn’t talk his parents out of making him come to Youth Group meetings. Sometimes our Youth Group would lead the Sunday night worship service. I remember one time my sister, Dana, thought it would be fun to make the adults form a line and sing “Happy Day Express” as they marched up and down the aisle making locomotive motions with their arms like they always made us do. That was not well received by most of the adults.
They usually expected me to deliver the message, since I was the only boy in the group. I always acted reluctant, but everyone knew I wanted to do it and I could have kept it real simple, but I always put a great deal of pressure on myself in preparing and delivering “the message”.
So, one Sunday night when I was about 12 or 13 years old I stood in the pulpit of my home church and encouraged the other young people to respond to Gods call on their lives as I had done.
Within a couple of weeks I had pretty much forgotten those words. But there was one person in the audience that night who remembers the words I said.
You see, several years earlier, when I was perhaps 7 or 8 years old, I said the words that my junior worship leader helped me say and I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior and Lord. I forgot those words, I never wrote down the date, but Jesus Christ heard what I said and wrote my name in his Book of Life.
In the years before I accepted Jesus as my personal Savior, his word had been planted deep in my heart. The Bible stories and illustrations, the Hymns and choruses that we sang, the home cookin’ and warm fellowship that were lavished upon me in the basement of our little church building, all became so precious to me and spoke to me of the majesty of the personality of Jesus Christ. And after I accepted him I began to genuinely cherish these things and to grow in the grace and knowledge of Jesus Christ.
Then, when I was 16 years old I got a job and a car and a girlfriend (in that order) and I began to selectively forget some of the things that I’d learned at home and in church; those things that I had become so familiar with and so fond of. But Jesus continued to remind me.
And when I was 18 I left home, left town and began to deliberately forget and to plan on ignoring the reminders Jesus confronted me with. But I had no joy in my heart. You see, Jesus Christ had made some promises to me, and I had made some promises to him. He kept all of his promises perfectly because he is God and God is Holy and faithful. I broke most of my promises to him because I am human, and selfish and sinful. Because I belong to him there is no joy for me outside of the things that please and glorify him.
One of the proofs I have that Jesus lives in me is that my heart aches when I forsake him. Another proof is that when I get on my knees and pray to God he stirs my heart. I can feel a rush sometimes when I open my heart and mind to him and then the rush dissolves into a warm peace and a bright joy.
The greatest proof that I have that Jesus Christ is alive in me is that his Word speaks to me. When I read Gods Word I can see that it is true and relevant to me, to my daily experience, and to the world I live in. Gods word is alive! I can see glimpses of myself in some of the characters in the Bible: Jonah, Nathaniel, Moses, Timothy.
The word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, it penetrates even to the dividing of soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.
Hebrews 4:12
You see, the words that I said that Sunday morning as a little boy opened my heart to Jesus. But it was his Word that saved me and drew me to him.
I have made two very important promises in life, resulting in two life-changing and eternal relationships. And I had no idea what I was signing up for either time. Brenda had no idea what she was signing up for as she walked down the aisle of that church on August 14th, 1981. But Jesus knew what he was getting and what he could expect from me when I made my promise to him.
We had a small Youth Group and I was often the only boy who couldn’t talk his parents out of making him come to Youth Group meetings. Sometimes our Youth Group would lead the Sunday night worship service. I remember one time my sister, Dana, thought it would be fun to make the adults form a line and sing “Happy Day Express” as they marched up and down the aisle making locomotive motions with their arms like they always made us do. That was not well received by most of the adults.
They usually expected me to deliver the message, since I was the only boy in the group. I always acted reluctant, but everyone knew I wanted to do it and I could have kept it real simple, but I always put a great deal of pressure on myself in preparing and delivering “the message”.
So, one Sunday night when I was about 12 or 13 years old I stood in the pulpit of my home church and encouraged the other young people to respond to Gods call on their lives as I had done.
Within a couple of weeks I had pretty much forgotten those words. But there was one person in the audience that night who remembers the words I said.
You see, several years earlier, when I was perhaps 7 or 8 years old, I said the words that my junior worship leader helped me say and I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior and Lord. I forgot those words, I never wrote down the date, but Jesus Christ heard what I said and wrote my name in his Book of Life.
In the years before I accepted Jesus as my personal Savior, his word had been planted deep in my heart. The Bible stories and illustrations, the Hymns and choruses that we sang, the home cookin’ and warm fellowship that were lavished upon me in the basement of our little church building, all became so precious to me and spoke to me of the majesty of the personality of Jesus Christ. And after I accepted him I began to genuinely cherish these things and to grow in the grace and knowledge of Jesus Christ.
Then, when I was 16 years old I got a job and a car and a girlfriend (in that order) and I began to selectively forget some of the things that I’d learned at home and in church; those things that I had become so familiar with and so fond of. But Jesus continued to remind me.
And when I was 18 I left home, left town and began to deliberately forget and to plan on ignoring the reminders Jesus confronted me with. But I had no joy in my heart. You see, Jesus Christ had made some promises to me, and I had made some promises to him. He kept all of his promises perfectly because he is God and God is Holy and faithful. I broke most of my promises to him because I am human, and selfish and sinful. Because I belong to him there is no joy for me outside of the things that please and glorify him.
One of the proofs I have that Jesus lives in me is that my heart aches when I forsake him. Another proof is that when I get on my knees and pray to God he stirs my heart. I can feel a rush sometimes when I open my heart and mind to him and then the rush dissolves into a warm peace and a bright joy.
The greatest proof that I have that Jesus Christ is alive in me is that his Word speaks to me. When I read Gods Word I can see that it is true and relevant to me, to my daily experience, and to the world I live in. Gods word is alive! I can see glimpses of myself in some of the characters in the Bible: Jonah, Nathaniel, Moses, Timothy.
The word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, it penetrates even to the dividing of soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.
Hebrews 4:12
You see, the words that I said that Sunday morning as a little boy opened my heart to Jesus. But it was his Word that saved me and drew me to him.
I have made two very important promises in life, resulting in two life-changing and eternal relationships. And I had no idea what I was signing up for either time. Brenda had no idea what she was signing up for as she walked down the aisle of that church on August 14th, 1981. But Jesus knew what he was getting and what he could expect from me when I made my promise to him.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
The Father's Love
I know it has been a long time since I’ve written anything for my blog. I haven’t felt like I had much to say lately. I apologize to my followers and subscribers and those of you who may have checked in occasionally to see if I had written anything.
Perhaps the most prolific period of my writing career (will you allow me to call it that?) was several years ago when I presented Communion Meditations at church. I wrote each one from current experiences or poignant memories and, by the grace of God, received a great deal of affirmation in that effort. So rather than abandon my blog I decided to post some of the stuff I wrote back then.
The piece I’ve copied below is obviously dated, two of my three sons have left home (I miss them dearly) and the camper has been gone for years.
I used to spend a lot of time thinking about my Dad and wondering what kind of a father and husband I would have been if I could have had a relationship with him beyond my early childhood. It may have been on Father’s Day when I first delivered the following piece.
The Father’s Love
There are many ways that each of us could choose to describe our relationship with our father. The measure of the time that we spend with our father is perhaps the most common and useful description of that relationship.
My boys still live at home with their father and we spend a great deal of time together. We work in the yard together, practice baseball together, and sleep in the camper together. We draw pictures, play games, and eat meals together. Sometimes we are delighted with each and sometimes we annoy one another, but we talk about everything. And if one of us is gone for the day or overnight, we really miss each other.
Many of you have left home but you live in the same community with your fathers. I imagine that you spend time with him every weekend. You probably get together for all the birthdays and holidays and big ball games. You may even have breakfast with your father sometimes and talk about familiar things and personal things.
And if he goes on vacation you miss him, you pray for his safety and you may even mark on the calendar when he’s due back.
Others of you, I know, have fathers who live in other parts of the country. You may only see your dad during the holidays or on summer vacation. Telephone and email are great ways to stay in touch, but there’s a wonderful spirit that grows between people who love one another as they spend time with each other. And often it seems that we become most acutely aware of our love for others when we have to say good-bye to them.
Our relationships with our fathers are very powerful and important, whatever form they make take.
Some of us have fathers who have gone before us into eternity. But the spirit of our relationship lives through the memories that we embrace, the legacy that we honor and the blessed assurance that our separation is only temporary.
Jesus spent an immeasurable amount of time with his Father. The Bible teaches that the Father and Son have been with each other from eternity past. And when Jesus was on earth he was known to stay up all night talking to his Father. He told his friends how much he loved his Father. He told them how great would be his joy if they would come to know his Father. And God actually spoke from heaven and told people how much he loves his Son.
John 1:1&2 says:
In the beginning was the Word
And the Word was with God
And the Word was God.
He was with God in the beginning.
And in John 17:5 Jesus lifts his eyes to heaven and says:
“And now, Father, glorify me in your presence
With the glory I had with you
Before the world began.”
Several hours later, as he hung battered and bleeding and humiliated on the cross, bearing the weight and the penalty of our sins, he cried out:
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
It was on the cross that Our Savior, for the first time in eternity, heard his Father say good-bye.
Perhaps the most prolific period of my writing career (will you allow me to call it that?) was several years ago when I presented Communion Meditations at church. I wrote each one from current experiences or poignant memories and, by the grace of God, received a great deal of affirmation in that effort. So rather than abandon my blog I decided to post some of the stuff I wrote back then.
The piece I’ve copied below is obviously dated, two of my three sons have left home (I miss them dearly) and the camper has been gone for years.
I used to spend a lot of time thinking about my Dad and wondering what kind of a father and husband I would have been if I could have had a relationship with him beyond my early childhood. It may have been on Father’s Day when I first delivered the following piece.
The Father’s Love
There are many ways that each of us could choose to describe our relationship with our father. The measure of the time that we spend with our father is perhaps the most common and useful description of that relationship.
My boys still live at home with their father and we spend a great deal of time together. We work in the yard together, practice baseball together, and sleep in the camper together. We draw pictures, play games, and eat meals together. Sometimes we are delighted with each and sometimes we annoy one another, but we talk about everything. And if one of us is gone for the day or overnight, we really miss each other.
Many of you have left home but you live in the same community with your fathers. I imagine that you spend time with him every weekend. You probably get together for all the birthdays and holidays and big ball games. You may even have breakfast with your father sometimes and talk about familiar things and personal things.
And if he goes on vacation you miss him, you pray for his safety and you may even mark on the calendar when he’s due back.
Others of you, I know, have fathers who live in other parts of the country. You may only see your dad during the holidays or on summer vacation. Telephone and email are great ways to stay in touch, but there’s a wonderful spirit that grows between people who love one another as they spend time with each other. And often it seems that we become most acutely aware of our love for others when we have to say good-bye to them.
Our relationships with our fathers are very powerful and important, whatever form they make take.
Some of us have fathers who have gone before us into eternity. But the spirit of our relationship lives through the memories that we embrace, the legacy that we honor and the blessed assurance that our separation is only temporary.
Jesus spent an immeasurable amount of time with his Father. The Bible teaches that the Father and Son have been with each other from eternity past. And when Jesus was on earth he was known to stay up all night talking to his Father. He told his friends how much he loved his Father. He told them how great would be his joy if they would come to know his Father. And God actually spoke from heaven and told people how much he loves his Son.
John 1:1&2 says:
In the beginning was the Word
And the Word was with God
And the Word was God.
He was with God in the beginning.
And in John 17:5 Jesus lifts his eyes to heaven and says:
“And now, Father, glorify me in your presence
With the glory I had with you
Before the world began.”
Several hours later, as he hung battered and bleeding and humiliated on the cross, bearing the weight and the penalty of our sins, he cried out:
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
It was on the cross that Our Savior, for the first time in eternity, heard his Father say good-bye.
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