Home

Home. When does a house start to feel like home? Last night, I was on a semi-maniacal mission to clear the living room, kitchen, and master bedroom of boxes before bed. Even though it was only our second night in the house, I wanted to wake up to some box-free zones. It helped, it really did. Until I walked into the garage. Or downstairs.

It’s not just the corrugated cardboard that is getting to me. I want this lovely house to start feeling like my home. It still feels like I am a visitor. The kitchen is different, the appliances are all different, even the views are different. The walls are still mostly bare, and I haven’t dug through enough boxes to find the family pictures. This house will make a lovely home, it just isn’t quite my home yet.

And so we’ll just keep unpacking and settling in. We’ll get to know the quirks of the house. The stuff of our lives will begin to accumulate around us. One morning, I will wake up and think how good it is to be home.

As I work with new members to my church, it seems like the same issues exist. Newcomers don’t know their way around the various groups and activities of the church. The worship service may be different than their previous experience. Finding the restrooms or finding a group to eat with after the service can both pose challenges. With time, church becomes home, but it isn’t always easy.
The main doors to the church say, in huge letters, “Welcome Home.” I pray that God’s house feels like home to those who come through those doors.

The Truck is Full, We're Done

Yes, we moved out of our house on the hottest day of the year. And, yes, apparently we have a lot of stuff. Not only do we have furniture for a family of 5, we also are now accumulating some things for two of our newly-apartment-dwelling children. We have also, however, been giving away a lot of things, big and small, in preparation of this move.

We were not prepared for what the movers told us at about 5:30 p.m. “The truck is full, we’re done and leaving.” Umm, but what about the things that are still in my house? Apparently, the guy who came and looked to make an estimation of our move underestimated our needs. At the end of a miserably hot day, the movers weren’t going to fix the estimator’s mistake. Apparently, these movers only move as much as they want, not as much as is actually there.

What could have been a huge crisis became an experience in grace. A couple from my church had arrived with a trailer to move some of our boxes that couldn’t withstand sitting all weekend in astronomical heat. They had generously offered to park their trailer in their garage, out of the heat. As the moving van pulled away, they allowed us to load the leftovers in this trailer. Between their trailer and our cars, we were able to vacate our house as scheduled.

I love it when something that could have become an incapacitating problem becomes a way for grace to abound. I will definitely be having a conversation with our movers (after they have safely unloaded our possessions) about their actions- and inactions- yesterday. However, what I will most remember is Nancy and Brian and their willingness to lug our stuff around and thereby care for us. God’s love shows up in the most unexpected ways. Isn’t that just like God?

Newbies

This past weekend at church, I asked at each service for a show of hands as to how many lifelong United Methodists were present. I then asked for a show of hands as to how many people had been United Methodist for less than a couple of years. I simply wanted to get an idea of the makeup of the group to whom I was about to preach a sermon on Methodism. I got sidetracked by my innocent question. At the first service, there was not a single person who ‘fessed up to being a newbie. I couldn’t help it. The first time it happened, I thought, “We’re not doing a very good job of bringing in people.” The thought made its way to my lips, the microphone I wear is very good, and so everyone heard my thought. I felt a little bad about saying something like that out loud, especially since it was only my third week there.

I had some time to think about it before the next service. The next time it happened, I said it a little louder. At two of our four services this weekend, there was no one who had not been a UM for less than two years. The other services did have a healthier representation of new people, and, admittedly, those services are at times more likely to attract visitors.

It is easy to be around people who are like us and like us. My comfort zone is always to be with people I know. One of the reasons we go to church is because it is comfortable. We know what it will be like and who will be there. I get that. If I could, I would want it to stay that way, too.

However, we’ve got some great good news to tell. There are so many people who could use a little good news in their lives right about now. Staying in my comfort zone will keep me comfortable, but it won’t do a thing for anyone else.

Reading and Driving

Yesterday, I was driving home along Highway 50 (a commute I will have to do only a handful of times more!) There was a car in front of me that was driving oddly. It was going slower than the prevailing traffic speed, and it was drifting from side to side of its lane. I assumed it was one more person occupied with a cell phone, whether talking or texting. I passed the car carefully, giving it a wide berth and watching for any unexpected swerves. As I drove past, I glanced over to see that the distraction was. The driver had an open book on his steering wheel and a cigarette in his hand! He was reading a novel and smoking while hurtling down the highway at over 60 miles an hour. I was totally shocked. I kept him in my sight in my rearview mirror until there was a large distance between us.

He’s gotten me to thinking, though. Not just about how terrible it was that he was risking not only his own life, but the life of the other people unfortunate enough to share the road with him. I wonder, though, how often we go through life paying attention to one thing, while the most important thing escapes our attention entirely.

I know that sounds like “preacher talk,” but it helps answer a question I’ve been pondering. My habit has been to not take my computer on vacation with me, to avoid getting sucked into work. This year, though, I had been reconsidering. After all, I’m new to a church, and there might be important things that come up. After watching reading-smoking-man, though, my answer is clear. I don’t want to spend precious time with my family in a beautiful place surfing the internet, doing email, or (sorry!) even writing blogs. I want to look around me and be able to pay attention to what is really important. The computer stays home, and I intend to notice the gifts of God that surround me.

Best Place to Live

I just saw that Money magazine voted Blue Springs the 49th best place to live, out of the top 100. My joy in reading that fact is magnified by the fact that my house is (pending final inspection) sold, enabling us to move to Blue Springs.

As we have gotten to know the church these past couple of weeks, we have become even more anxious to call Blue Springs our home. This church community has been so welcoming, and it has been fun to explore the area. The only thing left is to be able to go to sleep at night in the same community where I am in ministry. And, pending final inspection, we will be able to move in on August 16.

We can’t wait to move to “the best place to live.” The funny thing is, Andy and I didn’t need Money magazine to tell us that Blue Springs is the best place for us to live. Blue Springs is where we have our church home, and where we have each other. It is, without a doubt, the best place for us to live.

The Start of Something Beautiful

What a great start to worship in Blue Springs! I had been joking that moving from 2 services in Warrensburg to 4 services in Blue Springs meant that I would have to work twice as hard- 4 hours a week instead of 2. In reality, my fears had been more mundane- would I be able to keep the different services straight, and would my voice hold out?

The services were all beautiful. Each service has its own personality and its own group of committed people. The music at each service was outstanding, verifying what I had been told about the quality of musicians in Blue Springs. Amazingly, about 600 folks showed up on the 4th of July weekend. They were warm and welcoming in countless ways. And, my voice made it through each service, thanks to the tea with honey that I kept drinking all morning.

What has surprised me most is Sunday afternoon. Typically, Sunday afternoons are made for napping at my house. In spite of the rigorous weekend, including leaving the house at 6 a.m. this morning, I have been unable to nap today. I am simply too excited about the great day that we had! God is at work in some powerful ways in Blue Springs, and it felt great to be a part of it this weekend.

Rather than sleeping away this afternoon, I have savored this day. I have thanked some people (although not nearly enough) for their part in making today the day it was. Mainly, though, I am thankful to God for a beautiful beginning.

Lasagne as Soul Food

The last few days have been quite full. Several members of my now-former congregation drove my office (books, etc.) to my new church on Tuesday. It seemed somehow fitting to be following them out of Warrensburg. They were wonderful, and actually carried my boxes in for me. I gave them a brief tour, and then they left. And there I was. It was reminiscent of being dropped off by my parents at college. As they drove away, I had this sense of “Now what?”

Everyone that I have met here has been warm and friendly. The tasks of settling into a new church, however, can be downright tiring. Any usually-simple acts are complicated by having to figure out how to get hooked up to the internet or the office network printer. My desktop is a mess. Books need to be unpacked, files need to be filed into different drawers. My phone is telling me I have a message in voicemail, but I have no idea how to access voicemail, and I have no clue as to whether the message is for me or my predecessor.

Right when the details of this move threatened to overwhelm, a Sunday school class here showed up in my office with dinner for last night. I made the trip home with a Styrofoam chest squeaking promisingly in the back. Last night, my weary self- and family- were nourished by delicious lasagna, salad, rolls, and a dessert too yummy to be named. My soul was fed, and I was newly grateful to be coming to a church like Blue Springs.

Now what? I’m not entirely sure, but I do know that I’ll have strength for the journey. Sometimes, God’s grace tastes a lot like lasagna.