Things have hit, suddenly, the summer slow down. Memorial Day weekend is upon us, and things at church are slow. Throw in the natural movement of the end of a pastorate, and things are slow in my world. People aren’t talking to me about current issues or future plans much. I’m only preaching 2 of the 5 remaining Sundays in Warrensburg. I wish I were packing my house for a move, but it hasn’t sold yet. Things are unusually slow. But- I am still here!
I heard that it was announced at a church meeting the other day that, since the incoming pastor’s first Sunday was scheduled for the July 4 holiday, he was going to have June 27 as his first Sunday instead. Ummm. No. Every pastor in Missouri moves on the same day. Which means that every incoming pastor in Missouri, including yours truly, will have to deal with the Fourth of July weekend in their new pulpits.
I’m looking forward to June 27 around here. I’ve been working on the sermon already. It’s called “The Last Sermon.” We’re going to have a lunch afterwards, and there will even be cheese grits on the menu. It should be a great day! And, until then, I’m still here. I really am.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
Cleaning the Front Walk
Driving through town this morning, many things caught my attention. On a sunny and finally-warm morning, the things that still bear marks of neglect from a long and hard winter seemed to stand out more. I saw some signs that were faded, with peeling paint. Lawns that have gone unmowed, possibly since last fall. Piles of stuff that need cleaning up. Nothing too major, but things that clearly haven’t been attended to for awhile.
And then I drove past a restaurant that has recently opened. Out front, I saw a man wearing a shirt and tie, bending down to pick up some small pieces of trash. It was early, about 8:00 in the morning, and this man, dressed for his restaurant work day, was taking the time to pick up the street in front of his establishment. And something about seeing that touched me. I thought, “If he gives that much care and attention to his establishment looking clean and cared for, I imagine he gives even more care and attention to the food.” I’ve never eaten there, but I now intend to. I just want to see if I’m right.
How do we show we care? Most often, it is not in the grand gesture or sending the perfect greeting card. Most often, we show we care by doing the little things that we don’t have to do, simply because we think it might make a difference for someone. How will you show someone you care today?
And then I drove past a restaurant that has recently opened. Out front, I saw a man wearing a shirt and tie, bending down to pick up some small pieces of trash. It was early, about 8:00 in the morning, and this man, dressed for his restaurant work day, was taking the time to pick up the street in front of his establishment. And something about seeing that touched me. I thought, “If he gives that much care and attention to his establishment looking clean and cared for, I imagine he gives even more care and attention to the food.” I’ve never eaten there, but I now intend to. I just want to see if I’m right.
How do we show we care? Most often, it is not in the grand gesture or sending the perfect greeting card. Most often, we show we care by doing the little things that we don’t have to do, simply because we think it might make a difference for someone. How will you show someone you care today?
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Another Rainy Day
We are all so sick of the rain. For many of us, it’s an annoyance and an inconvenience. And perhaps a slight depressant. People are dragging into the office this morning, blaming yet another rainy day. What is an inconvenience to us, however, is much more for many others. Farmers are watching some freshly-planted seeds rot in the field. The recent flooding in Nashville cost lives and property. When driving across Missouri the other day, I saw a rain-swollen Missouri River. How much more rain can our saturated land take?
There is hope. The long-range forecast shows (finally) a shift in the weather beginning tomorrow. The rain will end, and springtime warmth will come. Or so we hope.
On this rainy day, I am working on a Sunday sermon. Jesus was saying goodbye to his disciples on the eve of his death. Things were going to get much worse in the immediate future, before they got better. Even as he was saying goodbye, though, he was promising them a future of hope. “My peace I leave with you,” he told them, so “don’t let your hearts be worried, and don’t let them be afraid.” Audacious words from a man who was about to die a horrible death.
Hope is like that. It triumphs even in the face of death. Or another rainy day.
There is hope. The long-range forecast shows (finally) a shift in the weather beginning tomorrow. The rain will end, and springtime warmth will come. Or so we hope.
On this rainy day, I am working on a Sunday sermon. Jesus was saying goodbye to his disciples on the eve of his death. Things were going to get much worse in the immediate future, before they got better. Even as he was saying goodbye, though, he was promising them a future of hope. “My peace I leave with you,” he told them, so “don’t let your hearts be worried, and don’t let them be afraid.” Audacious words from a man who was about to die a horrible death.
Hope is like that. It triumphs even in the face of death. Or another rainy day.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
When is Coffee Worth $4?
When is a cup of coffee worth $4? With the amazing growth of Starbucks, this question has become more prominent in recent years. Some people refuse, on principle, to spend $4 on a cup of coffee. Others will drive 30 miles each way for the privilege of drinking some of their coffee. I am not going to take a position either way with regards to Starbucks, besides to acknowledge that I do enjoy it when the opportunity arises.
But here in Warrensburg, there is a place where a cup of coffee or iced soy chai latte or anything else is worth that much. There is a local coffee shop that offers much more than just coffee or free internet. They offer community. I know that, if I go by at a certain time each morning, I can be fairly assured of seeing some of my favorite people. If I go by on Tuesdays, I can catch some of the nicest women I know. And pretty much anytime that I walk in, I will see someone I know.
The coffee and tea are very good there and worth the price. The chance to be in community and to make connections- well, as they say on the commercials- priceless. Whether it is in a coffee shop or a church, we all need those places to be with other humans.
But here in Warrensburg, there is a place where a cup of coffee or iced soy chai latte or anything else is worth that much. There is a local coffee shop that offers much more than just coffee or free internet. They offer community. I know that, if I go by at a certain time each morning, I can be fairly assured of seeing some of my favorite people. If I go by on Tuesdays, I can catch some of the nicest women I know. And pretty much anytime that I walk in, I will see someone I know.
The coffee and tea are very good there and worth the price. The chance to be in community and to make connections- well, as they say on the commercials- priceless. Whether it is in a coffee shop or a church, we all need those places to be with other humans.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
A great night, wish I wasn't there
Saturday night was a wonderful night on many, many levels. Andy and I were at the Kansas City Juvenile Diabetes Research Fund Gala. A gala . . . can you imagine? I’m not sure when was the last time that I shopped for a formal dress that didn’t involve one of my daughters and the word “prom.” It was my night to step out with my man, who was quite darling in his tux. The dinner was delicious, the auction was entertaining, and our tablemates were interesting. We even ended up sitting next to some Methodists from Liberty!
Why, then, did I find myself spontaneously welling up with tears throughout the evening? Because, every now and then, the thought would hit me. “I really really don’t want to be here.” No, I didn’t have a better place to be that night. I did not want to be there because I did not want to be a part of the many families who are affected by juvenile diabetes. I still remember the shock of my daughter’s diagnosis and the days spent in pediatric i.c.u. I see her living daily with the failure of her pancreas. Unlike Type 2 diabetes, her diabetes will not go away with diet and exercise. She has an autoimmune disorder that means that her pancreas is gone for good, and she must rely on insulin to stay alive. Don’t get me wrong- I am thankful for the advent of insulin and JDRF’s ongoing search for the cure. But I really really wish that my daughter did not have to live with it firsthand.
And so, while waiting for a cure, we take the best care of her diabetes possible. We wear bracelets and pray for a cure. And, every now and then, we hide our pain by throwing a great big party and raising all the money we can to try to save the lives of people we love.
Why, then, did I find myself spontaneously welling up with tears throughout the evening? Because, every now and then, the thought would hit me. “I really really don’t want to be here.” No, I didn’t have a better place to be that night. I did not want to be there because I did not want to be a part of the many families who are affected by juvenile diabetes. I still remember the shock of my daughter’s diagnosis and the days spent in pediatric i.c.u. I see her living daily with the failure of her pancreas. Unlike Type 2 diabetes, her diabetes will not go away with diet and exercise. She has an autoimmune disorder that means that her pancreas is gone for good, and she must rely on insulin to stay alive. Don’t get me wrong- I am thankful for the advent of insulin and JDRF’s ongoing search for the cure. But I really really wish that my daughter did not have to live with it firsthand.
And so, while waiting for a cure, we take the best care of her diabetes possible. We wear bracelets and pray for a cure. And, every now and then, we hide our pain by throwing a great big party and raising all the money we can to try to save the lives of people we love.
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