Lord, teach me. . . .

Obsessed by a fairy tale, we spend our lives searching for a magic door and a lost kingdom of peace. –Eugene O’Neill When you go to church on a Sunday morning, how do you decide where you’re going to attend? Do you choose the church because it’s where you have always attended? Because your whole family always goes there? Is your church of choice the biggest one in town? The one with the jazziest music? The place that makes you feel good, and has Fair Trade coffee? The one where you can “come as you are”? Are you going because the guest preacher that morning has a shiny white smile, and tells you exactly what you already knew and believed, anyway? (Isn’t it ironic? It seems often God likes and dislikes exactly the same people we do !) Where are your friends attending this week? Is that where you’ll show up, as well? What is wrong with all these snapshots? What (or who) is missing? Yep. In every one of these scenarios, Jesus is missing. The one in whom...

When the seasons shift, even the subtle beginning, the scent of a promised changed, I feel something stir inside me. Hopefulness? Gratitude? Openness?  Whatever it is,  it’s welcome. –Kristin Armstrong No matter what part of the world you call home, this time of year brings big changes. While my friends Down Under are watching sings of new growth emerge from the earth as temperatures rise, here in Ohio, the leaves are turning from green to gold and orange, red and brown. The winds have taken on a chill; clouds hang heavy, like soggy cotton, reminding us that soon and very soon, we are going to see the snow . Always different, yet somehow, the same. We depend on God’s eternal ways, and trust that again this year, winter will follow autumn, just like it should. So why is it, as we anticipate and appreciate changes like these, when it comes to so many things in life we pull up short, wrinkle our noses and say No! No change! I like things just the way they are! ...

i thank you god for most this amazing day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes --e.e.cummings There is a story in the Bible ( Luke 17:11-19 ) about ten people with a horridly disfiguring skin disease who cried out to Jesus, begging to be healed. In essence, he tells them: Go now, straight away, and show yourselves to your priest. And on the way, as they walked or ran or galloped, their sores were healed. Can you imagine? It must have been a little like time-lapse photography, as the natural healing process was accelerated. Imagine staring at your hands and watching the sores disappear! My mouth drops open just thinking about it. The truly amazing part: only one of these folks took the time to run back to Jesus and give thanks . Oh, I know there are soccer games and church luncheons, so many things that keep us busy, busy, busy. How often are we stoppe...

Everything ends; you just have to figure out a way to push the finish line. –Jesse Itzler Unfinished business Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was a musical genius. He composed his first piece when he was only five years old. At an early age, he was performing confidently before royalty. A true prodigy, music seemed to pour forth from his soul like water from a well. When Mozart died, he had only completed the first movement of his now-famous Requiem . Bits and pieces of nine other movements were found, but Mozart’s final work would never have been completed if not for Franz Süssmayr, an acquaintance of Mozart. Süssmayr not only completed the nine partial movements Mozart had left behind; he added four more, all in the manner and style of Mozart. Throughout history, great works have been left unfinished. Sometimes they remain incomplete, as in the case of the watercolor portrait of Franklin Roosevelt, begun on April 12, 1945. The president collapsed and died later that day, ...

The name “Reflect It Back” comes from the idea of not only giving back, but also seeing yourself in someone else. –Max Carver In many churches (including mine), stewardship season is just around the corner. This is the time of year when we (often reluctantly) begin focused discussions about budgets and giving and other stuff that many people don’t think a pastor should mention in the pulpit. Never mind that the one topic Jesus addressed more than any other topic was wealth and money; we don’t want to hear about it. After all, what I give is between me and God—right? (Sound familiar?) It’s funny, isn’t it, how we seem to have convince ourselves that if we don’t tell anyone how much money we earn, if we don’t tell God, God doesn’t know? We feel obligated (I hope) to faithfully report our income to those agencies who need to have it—but somehow don’t believe God cares. We can throw God scraps, so to speak, and God will never even know. How naïve are we? Granted, the IR...

A leader’s job is not to do the work for others, it’s to help others figure out how to do it themselves, to get things done, and to succeed beyond what they thought was possible.   –Simon Sinek Do you remember the story of the Little Red Hen? The Little Red Hen was definitely an overachiever. She found a grain of wheat; she planted it, tended it, harvested the crop, took it to the mill, ground the wheat into flour—and took it home to bake a delicious loaf of bread. (Can you smell it?) Along the way, she asked her friends who would help her with the work. But every time, the dog, the cat and the mouse would all answer the same: “Not me!” Ah, but when it came time to eat the warm, delicious loaf drizzled with honey, all the friends showed up drooling and eager. I will be happy to help you eat the bread, Little Red! Little Red reminded them who did all the work—and she sat down to enjoy the fruits of her labors. And while that might seem selfish, I th...

All that is gold does not glitter, Not all who wander are lost. The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. --J. R. R. Tolkein I am told that when I was about three years old, I was left behind. Thankfully, I don’t remember it. The story goes that my mother took the four of us shopping. My three older siblings needed shoes for school, and I was the tagalong. While the salesperson measured their feet and they tried on tennis shoes and oxfords, I sat on the floor and played in the empty boxes and tissue paper. Shoes were chosen; purchases were made, and the family piled back into the green Rambler station wagon and headed for home. There was one problem: little Heidi was still playing in the tissue paper. I don’t know how long it took before I was missed. And I don’t know how much my siblings pleaded with Mom not to go back for me. . . . I do know my mother was quick and embarrassed when she hurried in, scooped up ...