One of the spiritual disciplines that I have recently returned to after a lengthy absence is journaling.  Journaling is kind of like keeping a diary, but at the same time, quite different.  I like thinking about it as writing one’s personal narrative in ‘real time.’  It’s my opportunity to pour  out my feelings, frustrations, joys,  and thoughts as frequently as
desired.     As I have gone back and looked at previous journal entries they frequently
are raw with emotions, angry at perceived injustices to me and others, silly, rambling, short, uncouth, even vulgar! My entries seem to stylistically vacillate between the Psalmist and Anne Lamott.
            Journaling speaks to me because I have come to appreciate the power of story and story-telling.  Story has the power to transform your life! From the very beginning, societies have evolved and been shaped through the power of story.  Story as communicated through words and music and dance cultures with identity. I cannot help but consider how our faith has been transformed through the power of story.  For the Christian, our sacred literature is understood to be the Bible. My understanding of the Bible is that it is a collection of human stories endorsed by God.  These stories tell of the early faith community’s understanding of God and God’s relationship to all of creation.  This is my understanding of inspiration. 
            Journaling is a ‘spiritual’ activity as spirituality is concerned with discovering meaning and meaning-making in one’s life. As we pour out the emotive and cognitive dimensions of life on paper, we get more in touch with our “true self” (as opposed to the false self.
            According to psychotherapist John McGee, there is incredible power in sharing stories.  Here are four reasons you should be writing them down and sharing them often:
 
          Stories remind us of God’s goodness and power to transform.  Intellectually and theologically we are confident that faith can be transformational.  As we journal and write stories of God’s presence and transforming influence in our life, we cultivate a deeper and more intimate relationship with God.
           Stories give hope.  Many times people feel like no one understand them or has been through what they have.  They believe their pain is different than everyone else’s.  They believe they have failed in ways unique to only them.  Journaling helps us to bring balance and new perspectives to our circumstances.  Journaling even allows us to vent, writing our true feelings in ways that we would never make public. Through this process we can find renewed hope for moving forward.
            Stories are great teachers.  Through journaling, stories allow us to look back and see – really, re-experience – how our faith journey transported and navigated us through the difficult, less desirable experience in life.
            Stories cast vision.  Through journaling, stories illustrate what change could look like in the future, both immediate and long-term.  Furthermore, writing down our stories sometimes helps us to see and name the changes necessary for our growth.
            So there you have it.  The power of story.  Journaling.  I highly recommend it to you.  Give it a “trial run.” If it works for you and you see the benefits, make it a regular part of your spiritual disciplines.  If it doesn’t work for you, don’t do it.  Find another discipline that cultivates and nurtures your faith.
Shalom,
Don 

Probably my favorite story in the Bible is the parable commonly known as “the Prodigal Son.” This Luken passage also happened to be the appointed gospel lesson this past Sunday. Goody…what a wonderful scripture for me to return to the pulpit.  I am well aware of what attracts me to this story.  As the father of a wayward child, I’m continually looking into the long corridors of the valley and waiting for my child to return “home.” As Godot learned, waiting is a painful and often desperate activity. Waiting…waiting…waiting, oftentimes more debilitating than a surgical incision.  While quite certain my readers have figure this out by now, but I deeply resonate, empathize with the distraught father in this story.
            My hunch is that this story has become so familiar to us that it loses its pathos.  Ho-hum.  Yeah, yeah…I’ve already heard that story – a million times!!
            “In 1986 Henri Nouwen, a Dutch theologian and writer, toured St. Petersburg, Russia, the former Leningrad. While there he visited the famous Hermitage where he saw, among other things, Rembrandt's painting of the Prodigal Son. The painting was in a hallway and received the natural light of a nearby window. Nouwen stood for two hours, mesmerized by this remarkable painting. As he stood there the sun changed, and at every change of the light's angle he saw a different aspect of the painting revealed. He would later write: "There were as many paintings in the Prodigal Son as there were changes in the day."
It is difficult for us to see something new in the parable of the Prodigal son. We have heard the story so many times we believe that we have squeezed it dry of meaning. Not only that, but, as the saying goes, familiarity breeds contempt. When we hear the opening words of the parable once again, "And there was a Father who had two sons," we greet the words with ho-hum. Heard it. Heard it. Heard it.
Yet, I would suggest that just as Henri Nouwen saw a half dozen different facets to Rembrandt's painting of the Prodigal Son, so too are there many different angles to the story itself” [story from Rev. King Duncan].
What a great idea!  Maybe what we need is to re-imagine this beloved, but very familiar, story.  Perhaps instead of the “Prodigal Son,” the story is really about the Prodigal Father. After all, when I think of the word prodigal, I think of such attributes as extravagant, generous, abundance, lavish, liberal, and unsparing. Does that not describe the heart of a loving and compassionate father? Does that not tell us about the character of our heavenly Father?  Upon the son’s return, the father threw the most lavish party upon the son’s return, decorated the house extravagantly, spared no expense, and served Prime Rib instead of hamburgers!
And yet, there is another reason why this is the story of the Prodigal Father. Despite the excruciating emotional pain, the Prodigal Father waited and waited and waited – always on the lookout for the son to return. And when the son finally returned?  No condemnation, no lecturing, and welcomed with open arms.  No doubt a tight embrace, an abundance of tears, and an emotional-muffled, “Welcome home, son.  I love you!”
This is the same Prodigal Father who waits for us!
 
Shalom,
Pastor Don

The late Reverend Peter Marshall was a Presbyterian preacher who served as the U.S. Senate chaplain during the presidency of Harry Truman. An amazing preacher, Marshall used this ‘Keeper of the Springs’ story during one of his sermons in the 1930s.  I’ve carried this story with me for at least the last two decades and would like to share it with our readers.
“There was a little village that grew up at the foot of a mountain range—a peaceful place with fresh breezes, an ample radiance of flowers, and (most important) fresh water which tumbled down the mountain streams, splashed over waterfalls, and sparkled into the sunlight of the valley where all the streams finally joined forces and bubbled joyously into the town.
 
            The people love this beautiful stream that flowed through their town, with its pure water that one could see right through the smooth stones that formed the riverbed and the fish that fought their way upstream.  Children played with their toy sailboats by its banks, millwheels were turned by its force, in the heat of the summer the people drank long and deep from its pure water, never having to fear a thing, and by its farmers’ fields were irrigated. 
           
High up in the mountain, there was an employee of the village, a happy hermit who lived in the forest and earned his living as the “KEEPER OF THE SPRINGS”.  It was his job to tend the pools and the springs that formed the source of this sparkling little stream.  This KEEPER OF THE SPRINGS would patrol the hills and wherever he found a spring or a pool, he would clean the silt from its surface, scrape away the fallen leaves, sift out all foreign matter that might decompose in the water, so the spring would tumble down the mountainside cold and pure.  He took his job seriously, for each day as he set about his task he would think of the townsfolk down below….the children, the babies, the mothers and fathers, the animals who depended upon that clear, pure water for their well-being.
            But the City Council was a group of hard-boiled pragmatists who one year scanned the civic budget and questioned the need for this KEEPER OF THE SPRINGS.  “Why should we pay for this freeloader to watch our water?  We never see him.  Surely he is not necessary to our town’s life.”  So the City Council voted to dispense with this “unnecessary cost” and the man was forced to look elsewhere for his livelihood. Well, soon the silt began to pile up around the mountain springs.  Decaying branches and leaves fell into the pools and decomposed, filling the pure spring waters with cloudy debris.  The streams didn’t seem to sparkle as much as they tumbled down the mountainside; the fish were now seen dimly through a cloud of foreign matter.  And finally, the City Council admitted its mistake, re-convened, and sent out a search for that KEEPER OF THE SPRINGS to come back and restore their polluted stream to its prior glory.”
I have been thinking a lot lately about that ‘keeper of the springs’ fellow.  It’s easy to discount oneself.  To start thinking, “they won’t miss me!”  Or, “I’m not that important; what do I have to offer, anyway?”  Well, guess what?  You are important!  And yes, you have much to offer the community.  In fact, without you the community of faith is not complete without you.  You are a unique and blessed creation of Almighty God.  As such, you have the power to bless others.
Glad to be your pastor… DON 

Methodist pastor Maxie Dunham tells the story of a young man who left home for college. His mother had helped him pack and then drove him to his new dormitory. After a warm hug, she quickly and quietly left him to get settled on his own. As he was unpacking his suitcase, he found his shirts and pants and underwear all carefully stacked. And tucked in with them were two long narrow strips of cloth, neatly ironed and folded. He had no idea what they were at first. But then looking at them closely, he recognized their pattern. These were the strings from his mother’s apron. And she had cut them off — in order to set him free.
          Spiritually speaking, “cutting the apron strings,” has been a rather lengthy process as I’ve sought to find my own voice and being comfortable in “my own skin.” I thought about this difficult process again this week when hearing from a former student and he shred these words:
          “My entire life I was told what to be, what to do and how to act. I was told if I acted in certain ways I would go to Heaven and if I acted in other ways I would go to Hell. I lived in perpetual fear of Hell because I could never match the way I was instructed to live.
To this day I still struggle with the thought of missing the mark and receiving eternal damnation because of my shortcomings. The lies of this world and present age are powerful manipulators of our conscience. The liars seek to control through fear and do not want us to live in love. There is no fear in love.
Our experiences are ours and there is no right or wrong or good or bad to experience...it just...is. I have missed so much of my life by being concerned about the future and fearful of my mistakes. I have often missed the present reality of being in the moment.
God loves you and has ordained your steps. He has a perfect plan for you and you alone. You are already perfect in every way. Do you struggle with feeling loved and accepted? Have you felt judgement and condemnation from your religious leaders? How have you found acceptance, joy and contentment?”
My sense is that fear –more than anything else – keeps us from embracing our unique voice and authentic self.  Fear, really?  Yes. Fears, both internally and externally driven, often prevent us living authentic lives.  Fear of our experiences, beliefs, lack of conformity, that we just don’t measure up, or an almost pathological desire for acceptance are powerful reasons to keep the apron strings firmly tied!
This Sunday (January 6) is Epiphany, sometimes known as “theophany.” Epiphany simply means “manifestation” – the manifestation of God in our life.  My sense is that the feast of Epiphany never gets the attention it deserves, often assuming a lower-level tier on the church’s liturgical calendar. 
Traditionally, Epiphany is forever linked with the visit of the Magi to the Christ child.  Speaking before the World Youth Day in Cologne, Germany in 2005, Pope Benedict XVI spoke of the transformational potential of the Epiphany: “Outwardly, their journey was now over. They had reached their goal. But at this point a new journey began for them, an inner pilgrimage which changed their whole lives. ... They had to change their ideas about power, about God and about man, and in so doing, they also had to change themselves. Now they were able to see that God’s power is not like that of the powerful of this world. God’s ways are not as we imagine them or as we might wish them to be.”
It is past time to cut off the apron strings.  This Epiphany, as Christ continues to manifest himself in our lives, let us, too, seek to be changed anew.
 
Glad to be your Pastor,
Don

Author Mitch Albom in his book, Tuesdays with Morrie, tells of the day that his friend and teacher Morrie Schwartz was told by the neurologist he had Lou Gehrig’s disease.  “Outside, the sun was shining and people were going about their business.  A woman ran to put money in the parking meter.  Another carried groceries.  Morrie was stunned by the normalcy of the day around him.  “Shouldn’t the world stop?  Don’t they know what has happened to me?”
This Sunday begins Advent.  A rather familiar time for most Christians, especially those from mainline and liturgical traditions. ‘Tis the season to be jolly, so the culture reminds on every street corner and storefront. And it is a wonderful time of the year: friends and family, gifts, candy, parties, endless food, Christmas trees, frivolity, bright lights and decorations, merriment.  It really is a most wonderful time of the year.
But for many people, this is the saddest and most difficult time of the year.  Or, as Mitch so poignantly asserts: “Shouldn’t the world stop?  Don’t they know what has happened to me?”  For many of us, the melody in our heart has grown silent. For many, “joy to the World, the Lord has come” has been replaced by, O’ Lord how long?  For many, this Advent and Christmas – perhaps like many others – has become rather ‘blue.’  Grief is a difficult and lonely experience, especially during the holidays.
For many, this will be the first holiday apart from a loved one; an empty chair at the dinner table.  And while death of a loved one results in excruciating grief, perhaps the most normative metaphor for grief is ‘loss.’  The loss of an important relationship, the loss of health, the loss of a dream.  The holiday season has a way of accentuating all of our griefs and losses. My heart goes out to those experiencing acute grief during this time of the year.
A number of years ago I came across a brief article by therapist Ashley Bush Davis that I found especially helpful to me during a bout with acute grief.  I share Davis’ six tips for coping with grief during the holidays with hope that you, too, will find it helpful in making your days a little “less” blue:
Talk about your Loved One – Don’t be afraid to mention your loved one when you’re at a party or with friends and family.  Often people are reluctant to mention the deceased because they are afraid to ‘upset’ you.  They don’t realize that your loved one is always on your mind and that it’s healthy to reminisce.  Be the one to share memories and to encourage conversation.
Express your Feelings – Holding in pent up emotion is not healthy.  If you want to cry, let yourself cry.  If you need to express anger, write in a journal.  Try creative arts to express the many feelings you’re experiencing.  Letting yourself feel the pain and then finding expression for that pain is an important aspect to healing.
Light a Candle – Light a memorial candle at the holiday dinner table to honor the light of your loved one.  Remember that although their physical form has gone, they are very much still a part of your life.  Hold that love close to your heart and remember that your life has been enriched by their love.
Shop and Share – A frequent sadness for grievers is not being able to shop for their loved one.  Try going shopping for things that you might have purchased for your dear one and then donating those items to a homeless shelter, a hospital, or a charity.
Cut Yourself Slack – Be extremely gentle and kind to yourself.  If you don’t feel like going to a party, don’t go.  If you don’t want to send cards, then don’t send them.  Do the absolute minimum necessary for you to celebrate the holidays.  Grieving is exhausting and you simply won’t have extra energy to expend.  When possible, ask friends and neighbors to help you with tasks that feel overwhelming.  Try to do your shopping on-line.  Set your bar low and give yourself permission to take it easy.
Simple Pleasures – Even if your heart is broken, you can look for simple pleasures to savor.  See if you can find one tiny thing each day for which you can be grateful.  Notice your health, your loved ones who are still living, even small sensory pleasures like tastes, smells, and sounds.  Try shining the focus of your attention on small things in your life that bring you some happiness.
 
Remember that you are not alone in your grief.  Grieving is a universal experience that we all experience at one time or another.  Grief is also a process that takes time to work through.  Therefore, be patient and gentle with it.  And, by all means, call a friend, pastor, or someone if you feel overwhelmed by your grief.
 
Glad to be your pastor,
Don

11.1.18          Chasing Rabbits...REQUIEM                “They will Rest from their Labors…”
On Sunday, November 4th, we will observe “All Saints Day” at our church. It will be a very special day and I hope you have made plans to be at Church. Let me count the ways it will be special: a pastoral installation, birthday luncheon, Regional Minister Greg Alexander will be in worship…and a solemn remembrance of saints – many of them dear family and friends – who have graduated to that “great cloud of witnesses.”
            As meaningful and exciting as everything happening this weekend, observing All Saints Day (for me) will be the apex.  Over the years, it has become the high point of my worship year.  I usually cry throughout the service.  Sometimes I even have tears rolling down my cheeks. But why?
            Thomas Lynch is both a poet and an undertaker, a rather unusual vocational combination.  But hey, it works for Lynch, so who am I to knock it!  He has written a wonderful little book entitled, The Undertaking: Life Studies from the Dismal Trade.  It’s part autobiography, part comedy, and full of stories about the challenges of growing up in the home of a funeral director.  It almost reads like something Garrison Keillor would write. Very entertaining.  I highly recommend it.  I mention Lynch’s book because he makes a very powerful statement in the book.  He says, “Where death means nothing, life is meaningless…We remember because we want to be remembered.” And that, my friends, is the very essence of what this beginning of November feast – All Saints – is all about.
            So during Sunday’s All Saints Day worship, we will remember the saints who have gone before us through the Christian metaphors of requiem and sacrament. In a requiem (the Latin word for “rest”), according to the deceased preacher Peter J. Gomes, “we invoke eternal rest upon the dead, remembering that while they were here they worked and played, they prayed and suffered, lived and lusted, but in death they now ‘rest from their labors.’  A hymn says, ‘we feebly struggle, they in glory shine.’”
            Dr. Gomes continues with his wonderful words of wisdom: “Rest is not the absence of work but rather the presence of joy in which work is no longer necessary, for what is work after all but to keep us amused and distracted while living?  To ‘rest in the Lord’ is to find at long last that peace which the world tries to sell but which it can neither give nor take away, that peace which indeed passes merchandising and understanding, that peace which is also not a negative, not merely the absence of stress, but the discovery of all that to which we have aspired, the reunion of the creature with the creator.”
            In true Disciples’ fashion, the table of our Lord is paramount as we observe and celebrate of All Saints Day.  For it is at the communion table that the resting dead and the living experience reunion in the sure and present hope of life eternal.  “Blessed are the dead who from now on die in the Lord…they will rest from their labors, for their deeds follow them” (Revelation 14:13).
            Let’s share tears of joy and remembrance together this Sunday.
                                                     Glad to be your pastor… DON
 
Chasing Rabbits...An Inside Job
6.5.2018
Anything mechanical is not my cup of tea.  Renee has come to know and love me as an “idea type of guy.”  All that to say, I am a mechanical moron!  Give me a book or something to be written, and I have found my niche; planning or creating something, I’m happy as a hungry flea on a hound dog! Anything else…I make no promises! Chainsaws?    Absolutely terrify me.  Hammers, screwdrivers, pliers, etc.?  Gave them up for lent many years ago and never reclaimed them!
Which makes it even more surprising when, while channel surfing late at night a few weeks ago, I became enamored by reruns of the television hit, Extreme Makeovers: Home Edition (not to be confused with the Extreme Makers – plastic surgery, wedding, or weight loss editions!).  Despite being a confessed mechanical moron, I am deeply impressed with those people who have wonderful mechanical skills and know how remodel homes, exterior and  interior.  Perhaps a tad more than “impressed.”  Okay, I am downright envious on them!
With those remodeling masters from Extreme Makeovers fresh in my thinking, this challenging piece of dialogue from Noah benShea’s clever book Jacob’s Journey came to mind:
“All of us are magicians,” said Jacob.  “With great skill we shift who we are as if we were peas under walnut shells.  Soon, we ourselves have no idea where we are hidden.  Soon, pride in our camouflage causes us to become caught in our own slight of hand.” 
“Well,” said the young man, “at least I’m not old like my grandfather.  He sits with his chin resting on his cane, doing  nothing for hours.  I have my whole life ahead of me.”
“You do have your whole life in front of you,’ said Jacob, “and yet life is an experience not only of breadth, but of depth.  As you grow older, the game of life goes inside, making room for memory.  The interior life is no less real, and in some ways more private, more ‘yours.’”
“But,” said the young man, “what do you think my grandfather spends so much time thinking about?”
“Maybe he is thinking about you.”
“About me?”
“Yes,” said Jacob.  “Maybe he’s worried that his grandson is living only on the surface of life, and he wonders when you’ll come inside.”
Spirituality is bi-directional. Most certainly, spirituality looks ‘up’ to our God, but authentic spirituality invites – no, demands – we journey within, to the inside, and consider the possibility of doing some divine remodeling. SELAH (stop and think about it).
 
Glad to be your (transitional) pastor.                                                                      DON

On Sunday, November 4th, we will observe “All Saints Day” at our church. It will be a very special day and I hope you have made plans to be at Church. Let me count the ways it will be special: a pastoral installation, birthday luncheon, Regional Minister Greg Alexander will be in worship…and a solemn remembrance of saints – many of them dear family and friends – who have graduated to that “great cloud of witnesses.”
            As meaningful and exciting as everything happening this weekend, observing All Saints Day (for me) will be the apex.  Over the years, it has become the high point of my worship year.  I usually cry throughout the service.  Sometimes I even have tears rolling down my cheeks. But why?
            Thomas Lynch is both a poet and an undertaker, a rather unusual vocational combination.  But hey, it works for Lynch, so who am I to knock it!  He has written a wonderful little book entitled, The Undertaking: Life Studies from the Dismal Trade.  It’s part autobiography, part comedy, and full of stories about the challenges of growing up in the home of a funeral director.  It almost reads like something Garrison Keillor would write. Very entertaining.  I highly recommend it.  I mention Lynch’s book because he makes a very powerful statement in the book.  He says, “Where death means nothing, life is meaningless…We remember because we want to be remembered.” And that, my friends, is the very essence of what this beginning of November feast – All Saints – is all about.
            So during Sunday’s All Saints Day worship, we will remember the saints who have gone before us through the Christian metaphors of requiem and sacrament. In a requiem (the Latin word for “rest”), according to the deceased preacher Peter J. Gomes, “we invoke eternal rest upon the dead, remembering that while they were here they worked and played, they prayed and suffered, lived and lusted, but in death they now ‘rest from their labors.’  A hymn says, ‘we feebly struggle, they in glory shine.’”
            Dr. Gomes continues with his wonderful words of wisdom: “Rest is not the absence of work but rather the presence of joy in which work is no longer necessary, for what is work after all but to keep us amused and distracted while living?  To ‘rest in the Lord’ is to find at long last that peace which the world tries to sell but which it can neither give nor take away, that peace which indeed passes merchandising and understanding, that peace which is also not a negative, not merely the absence of stress, but the discovery of all that to which we have aspired, the reunion of the creature with the creator.”
            In true Disciples’ fashion, the table of our Lord is paramount as we observe and celebrate of All Saints Day.  For it is at the communion table that the resting dead and the living experience reunion in the sure and present hope of life eternal.  “Blessed are the dead who from now on die in the Lord…they will rest from their labors, for their deeds follow them” (Revelation 14:13).
            Let’s share tears of joy and remembrance together this Sunday.
​                                                                                   Rev. Don Chase

There is an old and beautiful tale of a rabbi’s child who was inclined to wander in the forest.  Over time, the father became concerned and asked the boy why each day he ventured into the dangerous woods.
           The boy answered his dad saying, “I go there to find God.”
           “Well, of course, that’s a fine thing,” the rabbi reassured his son.  “But, don’t you know that God is the same everywhere?”
            “Yes,” said the boy, “but I’m not.”
            This story reminds us that our searching and experience of God changes as we find ourselves in various places – spiritually, emotionally, and physically. The important thing to remember is that while God is immutable, we change.  We are continually changing through this shared journey called life.  It also reminds me that I can choose to be a different person today (and tomorrow) than yesterday. It seems important to me, then, that we are supremely honest with ourselves as we determine the values that we choose to guide our life.  Rev. Dr. Maurice Boyd, one of the great preachers of the 20th century, once invited his congregation to consider the following “realities” when developing a credo for life.  These realities are too good not to share.  Enjoy.
 
If what you are after is first and foremost power, you’d better forget about love.
If you insist in putting yourself at the center, you’d better get ready for a life of loneliness.
If you are a gossip, don’t be expecting confidences.
If you view life as essentially a quantitative proposition, you’d better keep your averages up.
If you think life is a race won by the swift, you dare never slow down.
If you think the fight goes to the strong, you’d better never relax.
If you love life in the fast lane, don’t even think of setting your heart on anything that takes time.
If what you are seeking is security, then you’d better forget about genuine ecstasy because you can’t have both.
If you honestly believe that life is a rat race, don’t be surprised if you don’t find any dignity in it.
If you’re primarily interested in justice and not in mercy, you’d better never make any mistakes.
If you are ruthless on the way up, don’t be looking for tenderness on the way down. 
 
Glad to be your pastor… DON
 
 

Two monks on a pilgrimage came to the ford of a river.  There they saw a girl dressed in very beautiful clothes, obviously not knowing what to do since the river was high and she did not want to spoil her clothes.  Without much hesitation, one of the monks took her on his back, carried her across and put her down on dry ground on the other side of the river.
Then the monks continued on their way.  But the other monk, after an hour, started complaining: “Surely it is not right to touch a woman; it is against the commandments to have close contact with women.  How could you go against the rules of monks?”
The monk who carried the young lady walked along silently, but finally he remarked, “I set her down by the river an hour ago, why are you still carrying her?"
 
Much wisdom is to be found in Irmgard Schloegel’s simple parable.  Too often our lives     become encumbered because of past hurts and offenses, personal failures, or perhaps even missed opportunities. The result?  Often, such life experiences result in broken or impaired relationships, anger, and lots of wasted energy.  For whatever reason(s), it’s sometimes easier to hold on to the past rather than live in the present and future.  But we need to    reframe and remember that the past is just that – the past!  And sometimes we just need to leave some things on the riverbank so that we can say “yes” to life.  Our apostle friend said it much more eloquently when he said, “anyone who       belongs to Christ is a new person. The past is forgotten, and everything is new.”
 
So what is the “extra weight” you need to leave on the riverbank?
 
Selah (stop and think about it).
 
Glad to be your (transitional) pastor,
DON

Anything mechanical is not my cup of tea.  Renee has come to know and love me as an “idea type of guy.”  All that to say, I am a mechanical moron!  Give me a book or something to be written, and I have found my niche; planning or creating something, I’m happy as a hungry flea on a hound dog! Anything else…I make no promises! Chainsaws?    Absolutely terrify me.  Hammers, screwdrivers, pliers, etc.?  Gave them up for lent many years ago and never reclaimed them!
Which makes it even more surprising when, while channel surfing late at night a few weeks ago, I became enamored by reruns of the television hit, Extreme Makeovers: Home   Edition (not to be confused with the Extreme Makers – plastic           surgery, wedding, or weight loss editions!).  Despite being a          confessed mechanical moron, I am deeply impressed with those people who have wonderful mechanical skills and know how          remodel homes, exterior and  interior.  Perhaps a tad more than “impressed.”  Okay, I am downright envious on them!
With those remodeling masters from Extreme Makeovers fresh in my thinking, this challenging piece of dialogue from Noah benShea’s clever book Jacob’s Journey came to mind:
“All of us are magicians,” said Jacob.  “With great skill we shift who we are as if we were peas under walnut shells.  Soon, we ourselves have no idea where we are hidden.  Soon, pride in our camouflage causes us to become caught in our own slight of hand.” 
“Well,” said the young man, “at least I’m not old like my grandfather.  He sits with his chin resting on his cane, doing  nothing for hours.  I have my whole life ahead of me.”
“You do have your whole life in front of you,’ said Jacob, “and yet life is an experience not only of breadth, but of depth.  As you grow older, the game of life goes inside, making room for memory.  The interior life is no less real, and in some ways more private, more ‘yours.’”
“But,” said the young man, “what do you think my grandfather spends so much time thinking about?”
“Maybe he is thinking about you.”
“About me?”
“Yes,” said Jacob.  “Maybe he’s worried that his grandson is living only on the surface of life, and he wonders when you’ll come inside.”
Spirituality is bi-directional. Most certainly, spirituality looks ‘up’ to our God, but       authentic spirituality invites – no, demands – we journey within, to the inside, and consider the possibility of doing some divine remodeling. SELAH (stop and think about it).
 
Glad to be your (transitional) pastor.                                                                      DON