Sacred (Holy) Dancing...

I was in eighth grade when my father's parents came to live with us.  Grandma had the beginnings of what we now know to be Alzheimer's and Granddad couldn't take care of the farm and her by himself any longer.  So, after they sold everything in an estate sale, we rented a motorhome, and drove from Brownsville, Texas to Ringgold, Maryland and brought them home to live with us.

Grandma could tell you stories about how she grew up with her favorite dog named Sport.  Old Sport was a mixed breed, but was her dog.  At the time, we had a small poodle, named Alfie, who loved to lay at her side, and let her pet him. She would pet Alfie, and call him Sport the whole time. (Alfie didn't seem to mind.)  Funny, Sport had been dead for over fifty years, but for Grandma it was just like it was this morning in her mind.  She had a wonderful memory for things that were when she was younger.  She couldn't tell you what she had for breakfast, but she could remember growing up in West Virginia.

Grandma loved to talk.  She loved to reminisce about the old days, about how she and Granddad met, fell in love, and got married.  She told the stories of how she would wait until Granddad left in the mornings to go work in the fields, and she would lock the two oldest kids in the bathroom upstairs in the farmhouse.  She would then sneak out to the barn, and crank up Granddad's Model T truck and drive it around the front yard of the house.  Granddad didn't figure it out until he ran out of gas one day trying to get to town.  From then on, he always put the truck up on blocks, and Grandma never did get her driver's license.

As the years progressed, her memory faded further and further back, until only a few imprints were left on her mind.  She knew really only two people - my mother (Katie) and her husband (Luther).  Every woman that came into view was named Katie to her, and every man was named Luther.  She didn't even remember her own children's names, let alone her grandchildren.  But she was doing the best she could with what she had. 

In 1981, she lost most of her foot to gangrene, a byproduct of poor circulation due to diabetes.  She had already lost most of her eyesight.  By the end of that year, she would lose her lower leg below the knee, and several toes on the other foot.  The Alzheimer's didn't help - she would forget she didn't have a leg, and would try to get up and walk, assuming the "phantom pain" meant she could still stand up.  Seeing her strapped into her wheelchair was a painful sight, but one that was necessary in order to keep her from injuring herself.

Doing things for Grandma was something that we always wanted to do.  She never had to ask, we could always tell what she wanted - a pillow behind her lower back, a glass of cold water - it didn't matter.  And she would always say thank you in the most peculiar way: "I'll dance at your wedding!"  I don't know if that was something that was unique to the McCoy family dialect, or to West Virginia in general, but she was always promising to dance at my wedding. 

Just recently, a friend showed me a video of a Wedding processional (where everyone usually marches in as if it were a dirge) except, at this wedding, everyone danced up to the altar.  It was amazing!  What a wonderful way to start a new life together - by Dancing before God!  It was reminiscent of King David dancing before the Ark of the Covenant as it was being escorted to the Tabernacle.  As I watched this short video, Grandma's words came back to mind.  "I'll dance at your wedding!"

Well, Grandma didn't make it to the wedding.  One week shy of her 80th birthday, in May, 1986, Grandma died.  While we were all sad, the one thing that kept coming to mind was that she was no longer bound to that chair.  She was waltzing in heaven! 

It is a sacred thing - to dance.  It is the expression of one's deepest joy.  The Spirit soars to new heights, and the Soul rejoices.  It is free to express great gratitude to the One who makes life not only possible - but worth the living.  Dancing is sacred.  Dancing is holy.

In May of 1990, When Jan and I exchanged vows, we didn't have a dance after the ceremony, just a reception in the Fellowship Hall.  But something told me, Grandma was dancing.  And the dance goes on...

Grace and peace,
Brad

A New Day...

Beloved God,

I stand again at the threshold of a new day, humbled by all that lies before me.  May this day be a holy day in your honor. 

May your advent bring the hopes and fears of all the years, and may they be met in you this day.

May this day honor the day of your birth that shout Alleluia and Glory, for you have come to save your people.

May this day remind us of those who search diligently for you; even coming from far away lands.

May we be reminded as we enter into your presence yet again, that we are not worthy to be in your presence.  May we be mindful of the brokenness of our spirits, our sinfulness of soul, and our need for repentance.

May we be reminded of all that you endured for our sake; from the moment you entered the Holy City, to the time you were marched out in shame to a hill outside of town.  May we be reminded again this day of the ways in which your brokenness on the cross so closely resembles our brokenness of spirit. 

May we approach the tomb with those women, angst-ridden, and sorrowful for the loss, yet surprised by the discovery that death does not have the final say, as we see your face, and hear your voice calling us by name.

May we find ourselves in the midst of our daily lives, talking with one another about You and your grace, only to find that you have joined us on the dusty path, and most especially in the breaking of the bread.

May we find ourselves being called again into ministry by the seashores of our lives, and charged with feeding your sheep.

May we find ourselves surrounded by so many others, who speak foreign languages, yet somehow swept up in the power of your Spirit as it enables us to share across every boundary known the great grace of your Son's glorious resurrection.

May we begin to see our purposes, Lord, in telling and re-telling the story to everyone we meet in every city and town we enter.

May we find this day, O Lord, to be a Holy Day for You.  May it be filled with your Spirit, and your wonder; may it be filled with your grace and your power.  May it be a day that begins and ends with You.

O Lord, this is my prayer for this day.  For this is the day that YOU have made.  I will rejoice and be glad in it!  Amen.

Grace and peace,
Brad

A Providential God...

Recently, our daughter shared with us an issue she had with an assignment from college.  In a book review, she shared that the author had misused the word "literally," choosing it over the word "figuratively" in the context of the novel.  She shared that one of her greatest pet-peeves is when a word gets used incorrectly, citing her high school English teachers for that newfound frustration.

It dawned on me how many times we have done just that with so many of the common words we use today.  We take a word that we think we know its meaning, and co-opt it for another purpose.  In Kaitlyn's example, the author said that the "wire literally wrapped around itself."  You know as well as I do, that wire does not wrap itself around anything without help. The author should have used figuratively, rather than literally.  Especially since the word "literally" refers to words themselves, spoken, written, or otherwise, and not to wire. 

For another example, the word Providence.  How many times have we talked about something begin providential? In that we mean that something has happened quite by accident, but the event has turned out somehow in our favor.  Literally (not figuratively!) the word "providence" refers to "the foreseeing care and guidance of God or nature over the creatures of the earth."  In this instance, we have taken God completely out of the picture, and yet, the very definition refers to God's care and guidance, knowing our needs even before we ask, and then providing it for us.

One can only assume that God would do this because God loves creation.  It is out of God's abundant care and mercy that we find God's nurturing love providing for our care.  Somehow, we've mistakenly believed that the word has nothing to do with God at all, but rather it is all by accident or chance, and we happened to have won the lottery of sorts.

The grace of God is not by accident.  The care and provision of God does not come by chance.  It is not a mere hypothesis of possibility that we are fortunate enough to have provided for us our next day, meal, or even breath. No, it is purely by the hand of the One who created all there is, and then stuck around to see how it would all turn out.  More than that, God has been actively engaged in helping us, nurturing us, and giving us what we need, sometimes even before we need it. 

When I was a child, my father taught me to be aware of what was going on around me, so that I could be of assistance.  When we worked in the garage, I was taught to be aware of what tool would likely be needed next, and to have it ready.  Only by becoming aware of what was happening would I be able to help out.  Does not our God do the same?  Standing beside us, especially when we are in need, offering us the gentle help and tender care of a friend, the warmth of a community of believers, the surrounding love of a family, the provisional needs to sustain us when we need it most?

God's eternal love for God's creation is everlasting.  It is here and now, and evermore.  God's love is providential.  All we need to do is trust it.  God is here with us.  And God will see us through all that is before us.

Grace and peace,
Brad

Not Just Another Fad...

                In my devotional reading for this morning, Paul spends time reminding the Colossian Church that the very essence of Christ is of God.  And in God’s intention to redeem all creation, God uses Christ’s body to purify and reconcile all to God.  He writes:

“Once you were alienated from God and you were enemies with him in your minds, which was shown by your evil actions.  But now he has reconciled you by his physical body through death, to present you before God as a people who are holy, faultless, and without blame.  But you need to remain well established and rooted in faith and not shift away from the hope given in the good news that you heard.  This message has been preached throughout all creation under heaven.  And I, Paul, became a servant of this good news” (Col. 1:23, CEB).

                Being well established and rooted in faith is the task of every Christian, regardless of time or place, generation or era.  And Paul says this with firm conviction – admitting even that he has made this task his primary goal in life.  To be well established means that we have become grounded on the foundation that our only salvation is in the blood of Jesus’ atoning sacrifice.  There is no other path we can follow that will achieve the same results. 

                But you know, as well as I, that there are many people who will follow after any other path, and sometimes every other path out there.  Their lives are empty, meaningless, and hopeless.  So they will turn to drugs, sex, money, power, greed, abuse – anything to ease that emptiness.  For the Colossian Church, the temptations were much more subtle.  Their desires were to follow any path that would lead to enlightenment – even the worship of angels.  They believed that the physical world -including Jesus, who was incarnate-was evil, and therefore not to be trusted.  It could not possibly be that anything of this earth would ever offer the gift of salvation.  Therefore the only hope was to look to the heavens for help – and the worship of angels drew their attention away from Jesus.  Paul wrote them back to remind them that their faith is not rooted in anything less than Jesus himself, and his atoning sacrifice on the cross.  To pursue anything else was hopeless.

                The vain pursuits of happiness through “stuff”, or pleasure will not lead to fulfillment in life.  These are just fads that are here today and gone tomorrow.  What counts is that which is eternal.  We therefore need to remember to be well established and rooted in faith.  Not blown about by every new thing that comes along.

                See you in church!

                Grace and peace,
               Brad

A Wandering Aramean...

Life is a journey.  It is something that happens one step at a time, step by step, moment by moment.  Each step is a gamble.  Will I stumble or fall?  Will I climb up? Will I descend down?  Will I move forward or retreat backward?  Each step is treacherous.     Each step is filled with a mixture of awe, fear, hope, anxiety.  But each step taken, is a   step on the journey of life.  Someone once said that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.  (I think it was Gandhi, or was it Groucho Marx?)  But every step is important.

 Recently, I have taken several steps that have propelled me into a different direction from where I originally started.  I remember being in seminary, and hearing a missionary come and speak to us.  He said, "the only thing holding us back from following God is this - ," and he held up a keyring with lots of keys on it.  He said, "we have come to believe in our world that in order to be successful, we have to have a lot of keys.  Keys to our houses, our cars, our safe deposit boxes, our workplaces, keys to our storage lockers, keys to everything.  We cannot feel secure in our world unless we know we have all our stuff locked up.  And we have to hold the keys to feel secure." 

His speech ended with his decision to leave his keys behind at the university where he taught, and enter the mission field with only his small knapsack filled with clothes and essentials.  For him, the journey was a decision to leave behind all that had ensnared him into believing he wasn't successful unless he had those things that needed keys.  Walking away from all that was his first step on his new journey to be faithful to what God called him to be. 

In many respects, I thought he was nuts.  He walked away from his family, his wife, his job, his home, - everything.  I didn't see him as being faithful to anything except his own escapism.  I understood what he was trying to say, but I couldn't quite get his point.  I wasn't feeling trapped.  I didn't believe that the Church in America was a waste of time.  I felt as though everyone needed to hear the saving Word of Jesus' love.  Even folks in the congregations in America.

So, I chose to pursue ordination to parish ministry.  I followed the program, found myself working in a church, and ultimately graduated seminary.  I worked through the ordination system, was ordained an Elder, and began a ministry of reaching people in the pews.  It was safe.  It was comfortable.  It was familiar.  It was home.

Twenty-two years later, I am sitting in a different home, and pondering these last several steps on this journey of faithfulness.  The local church still holds a special place in my heart, but I had an opportunity to see firsthand what that local church looked like when it was first starting out two thousand years ago.  Ironically, it shook me to the core.  What I saw had little to do with board meetings, bake sales, and potluck dinners.  It had everything to do with survival.  For those folks in that far away place in Eastern Europe, where Christianity had been suppressed and oppressed for over a century (that's at least four or five generations), it was all but gone.  But here, in this small town, under the leadership of a Spirit-filled, God-called young pastor, there was a church.  A true church.  Struggling to learn what it means to be different in a world filled with cookie-cutter sameness.  And their zest for the Gospel, their zeal for learning more about this itinerant Jewish Carpenter and his ancestry, showed me just how comfortable I had become in my nice, suburban, clean sanctuary filled with yawning, dozing, comfortable Christians. 

Don't get me wrong.  These folks in the pews where I served were faithful.  Many of them had been on a journey of faith for years.  Their passions led them to get up and move outside of the sanctuaries and into the highways and byways to find people in need, and help them in powerful ways of witness and Spirit.  It wasn't them who had become complacent.  It was me.  I was the one yawning, dozing, and comfortable. 

What I saw in that young church in Eastern Europe was nothing like I had become.  And I wanted to change that.

When the system called me to do what we Methodists have been doing for over two hundred years- itinerate - I saw my chance.  I decided that it was time for me to drop my keys, and follow that itinerant Jewish Carpenter.  To follow in the footsteps of that wandering Aramean, to go to the place where God would show me.  I stepped out of the routine, and onto the path less traveled.

I don't share this to make myself sound more superior than any of my sisters and brothers in ministry, nor than any of my sisters and brothers who sit in the pews.  Rather, I share this because it is a step that I have taken in a different direction - a different trajectory than I had been on for the last two decades.  To follow God's leading, to follow Jesus' teaching and example, to follow the Spirit's prompting, is a scary unknown journey. 

It is like trying to walk in the darkness of the forest, hidden from the lights of the moon and stars, with only a small candle to guide your way.  You cannot see beyond your next step, but then again, you are not supposed to.  Journeys of faith are like that.  If you knew every step in the path before you even started, you might be tempted to look for shortcuts, easier paths, smoother roads.  But that isn't what faith is about.  It is about taking one step at a time, finding that sure-footedness that God has placed under you, and trusting that the path will not give way.  The steps are not conducive to running, nor are they meant to be taken all at once.

One step at a time.  Stepping, stopping.  Waiting.  Being still, and waiting on God to show you the next place to rest your feet.  Following the light.  And knowing that you do not take any step in the whole journey alone. 

Sometimes the steps lead you to places where you never thought you'd travel.   Through rivers, amidst fires.  But never alone. 

                 "When you pass through the waters, I

                                will be with you;
                and through the rivers, they shall
                                not overwhelm you;
                when you walk through fire you shall
                                not be burned,
                and the flame shall not
                                consume you. 
                For I am the Lord your God,
                                the Holy One of Israel, your Savior...
                Because you are precious in my sight,
                                and honored, and I love you..."(Isaiah 43:2-4 NRSV)

We follow the path of a Wandering Aramean, and in the footsteps of an itinerant Jewish Carpenter.  We've been on a journey - but we do not travel alone.  We've got many witnesses to the path we trod, as they have journeyed on ahead of us.  And we are slowly but surely becoming the witnesses for those who would follow after us – one step at a time.  Step by step, in faith.

Grace and peace,

Brad

A Time and a Season…

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven…”  (Ecclesiastes 3:1, NRSV)

I have been dwelling on this phrase for a while now.  It seems to me to be the epitome of what I have been going through over recent weeks (months? years?).  With the advent of this new adventure (interesting how those two words share the same root word!) I have found myself pondering what life is like in stages. 

In the infancy stage, we are just learning what all we can do.  We learn to walk, talk, run, play.  We make friends, and we grow up.  In the adolescent stage, we learn about boundaries – those that are imposed upon us by those who care for us, and the ones that we come to know as our own.  We learn what we can do, and what we cannot do.  And we make more friends.  In our young adult years, and even into midlife, we begin to stretch those boundaries, and become more daring.  We settle into a life path that we hope will take us where we want to go.  We make a few friends that we know will not only last, but will sustain us during those difficult times in life that invariably come to all of us.  And we become that kind of friend to others. 

But then something happens.  And we aren’t sure why, or how, but we are changed.  Not quite so daring, not quite so bold, but wiser.  More mature.  And we find ourselves settling into a path of strength and wisdom that is not based on worldly ways.  Our relationships that we’ve made have become holier than mere family.  And we submit to a voice that is quieter than most, but more eternal.  And that voice shares with us that we are to take our next steps in true faith.

Perhaps much of this reflection has come to me as I prepare to watch my baby daughter (who is now 18 years of age, and a beautiful young woman) walk across the stage of her high school graduation.  I know that she will be moving away to college in a few months, and then in a few years, she will be starting her new life out in the world.  I have been privileged to have been near her for these (very fast) eighteen years – a time and a season.  And while I shall miss the times of the little girl who used to ask me to play with the plastic Easter eggs on the coffee table, or watch and listen to her as she played with her Barbie Dolls in her bedroom, I look forward with great anticipation all the wonderful things she will see and do in her life ahead. 

We are here, but for a time and a season.   We have the opportunity to influence others, as we ourselves are influenced by others.  But then we move on.  New faces come, new friends are made, and others walk with us down the journey of life that we call faith. 

I have been privileged to work alongside you in God’s vineyard of Canyon Lake United Methodist Church.  I shall miss our laughter, our tears, our work, our hopes and dreams, and even (dare I say it?) the meetings!  But I shall look forward with great anticipation all the wonderful things that you will see and do with your great new pastor, Rev. Andy Tyson.  I know he will lead you faithfully into the future, and into places and ministries that I cannot begin to fathom.  My time and my season with you is drawing to a close.  But your time and your season is just beginning.

And it will be good and Holy.  And Spectacular! 

See you in Church! 

Grace and peace,

Brad

Change...

             Who could have ever thought that by changing a couple of words, the meaning would forever be different?  That’s really all that Jesus did.  He took the stories that were most familiar to his listeners – stories that they had heard all their lives read from scripture – and changed them just a bit, and because of that little change, forever transformed his listeners. 
              He took a simple question from a lawyer “Who is my neighbor?”, told a story, and then re-asked the question, changing it slightly: “Which one acted most neighborly?”
              He took an old story about a man who planted a vineyard, found in Isaiah 5, changed a few words around, and retold it to his listeners (found in Matthew 21).  And as a result, we’ve been changed.  We see ourselves in the story. 
              He began to teach about what life could be like, not harassed by an occupying force from outside, but about the dangers of allowing an occupying force control us from within – sin – and gave us a new hope.  We were being invited into a new reality – the Kingdom of God.  Here.  Now.  In this lifetime.  Step into it, and realize that power that God is offering of redemption, forgiveness, and possibility.
              And then came that night in a room upstairs with his closest friends.  He took the ancient ritual of remembering God’s powerful words of deliverance for the people Israel from bondage in Egypt, how they were to prepare bread quickly, and at the signal, depart.  But again, he changed the words – the bread, he said, was his body.  Broken.  It was as if the remembrance we were being told to hold onto was somehow different this time.  God is doing a new thing through his own sacrifice.  Instead of the non-believers’ first born children being sacrificed, this time it was himself – God’s own first born.  His body broken, like the bread, was what we shall remember from now on.  And that bread, his body, is what brings us wholeness.  Healing.  Life.
              Three days later, after a mockery of a trial on trumped up charges, a horrific beating that even Mel Gibson’s version cannot come close to, and a shameful execution and burial, once again, he has changed the words:  “Death, where is thy victory?  Death, where is thy sting?” Even death cannot hold him!  Nor can death hold us.
              At the garden tomb, by the seashore, on the road to Emmaus, in the upper room that was locked from the inside, Jesus once again speaks – and he changes the reality of the world.  And because of his words, we are forever changed!  We have conquered death through him – and the kingdom is here!  Thanks be to God!  Alleluia!
              See you in Church!

Grace and peace,

Brad

When Hoarding Isn't Just On TV...

           There’s been a recent rash of true-life television shows.  Have you noticed?  “Keeping up with the Kardashians” (I didn’t know they had passed me by), “Flipping Out” (If I had that much money to worry about those things, I’d flip out too), and “Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo” (Uh, I got nothing here…) are just a few. 

            But there is another show that has garnered a lot of interest.  “Hoarders” is about real people who suffer from the addiction of not being able to let go of things.  Newspapers, magazines, food containers, and garbage consume their homes in giant piles.  While it is never their intention to let their homes get into the state they are in, the compulsion is overwhelming, and the paralysis becomes unbearable.  Nothing is discarded, and the piles accumulate.  Watching the show is difficult, because of the pain that is involved with the homeowner, the friends and family who are trying to help, and the uphill battle that is waged.   Over the years as a pastor, I’ve come to know several people who suffer from this disorder.  Their homes would rival any on the show. 

But I’ve also come to know that hoarding isn’t just something that involves magazines, newspapers, and garbage.  Sometimes hoarding involves the inward things that can get so piled up that we cannot see what God is trying to show us.  We can’t see God’s forest for the proverbial trees of our own selfishness.  We stockpile our wants and desires around us like we were trying to build a fortress to defend ourselves from the hurting world around us.  If we just built it thick enough, we might actually not even hear those who are in need crying out for help.

Jesus was confronted by an angry sibling in a crowd one day who demanded that Jesus tell his brother to give him the fair share of the inheritance that was due.  Evidently, there were some family tensions that strained the relationship beyond the normal sibling rivalry.  Jesus responded that one should not put one’s self in a place where greed destroys relationships.  He even told a story about a guy who had suffered the unbearable gift of a bumper crop.  The farmer thought to himself, the only way to enjoy this is to hoard it – to build a bigger and better barn.  Then he could relax and enjoy the rest of his life, living on the excess of one successful year.  But God shows up and demands to have an accounting for all God had blessed him with in his life, and the man was speechless.  Eugene Peterson summed it up this way: “That’s what happens when you fill your barn with Self and not with God.” (Luke 12:13-21, The Message).

Hoarding takes on many different forms.  When we seek to insulate ourselves from the realities of pain and suffering around us, we become hoarders.  When we place more value in the things of this world than in the things of the Kingdom, we become hoarders.  When we cease to feel the same pain that Jesus feels, when we cease to love the same things Jesus loves, when we fail to help someone in need, we become hoarders.  When we fail to see the cross, and count its cost, we become hoarders.

Read again (and pray with me) the words of the Prayer of Confession in our Communion Liturgy:  “Merciful God, we confess that we have not loved you with our whole heart.  We have failed to be an obedient church.  We have not done your will, we have broken your law, we have rebelled against your love, we have not loved our neighbors, and we have not heard the cry of the needy.  Forgive us, we pray.  Free us for joyful obedience, through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.”  (A Service of Word and Table II, UM Hymnal, p. 12.)

May your season of Lent be one that not only humbles, but purifies, cleanses, and restores you into right relationship with the One who came to redeem you. 

See you in church!

Grace and peace,

            Brad

“Not all who wander are lost…” – J. R. R. Tolkien

            I love that quote.  I live by that quote.  There is such depth – such meaning in each of the words.  Wander…I have done my share of wandering.  I have meandered down country roads, across deserts, and up crowded streets.  I have traipsed across mountains and valleys (not always searching for my lost golf ball, either!).  I have traversed many places that I never would have bothered to go, had it not been for a desire from deep within my soul to experience someplace new.  My math teacher once taught about “Non-Euclidean Geometry,” where the shortest distance between a two points is not necessarily a straight line.  (I got lost in that one for several months, just wandering about!) Wandering has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. 

Lost…There are so many meanings here.  Lost generally means displaced.  Things get misplaced a lot around my house.  “I can’t find my shoes!” is a common cry just before going to school in the mornings.  “Have you seen my keys?” 

Sometimes lost refers to something less tangible, but no less significant:  “I’ve lost 15 pounds so far on my diet!”  And then lost can also refer to people - geographically or spiritually.  It can mean temporarily, but I refuse to believe that it is permanent (“I once was lost, but now am found…”).  Sometimes we wander and get lost in our own thoughts.  Turning corners in our memories can bring us to an awareness of ourselves we had not previously known. 

But I believe Tolkien meant something a little different.  What appears on the outside to others as our wandering aimlessly, may in fact be our meandering with a clear sense of direction inside our souls.  Some folks cannot fathom the journey that others may be on – thus it appears they are wandering.  But the journey that faith explores is one that is ripe with opportunities that not everyone on the outside can fully understand. 

The Season of Lent can be like that for some folks.  Wandering about in the wildernesses of our lives can appear as though we might be lost at times.  And yet, no one knows our wandering better than the One who wandered first – Jesus Christ.  His time in the wilderness of Judea gave him clarity about his call from God.  He gained wisdom as well as direction, patience as well as perseverance.  And his commitment to pursue God’s will with passion was what led him to THE PASSION that has saved all of us from our wanderings and lostness.

This Lenten Season, take some time to wander about in your faith.  Ask yourself if you are on the right path – the one that God has laid out before you.  Ask yourself if you are making any progress in becoming the whole person God intended for you at your birth.  Ask yourself if you are faithfully following the One who has already trod the path through the Valley of the Shadows.  And then make a commitment to strive to draw closer to God’s will for your life.

I guarantee you, even though it may look like you are wandering about, you will not be lost.  The One who created you, who redeemed you, and who sustains you on the journey, will travel with you.

See you in Church!

Grace and peace,

Brad

Daily To Do Lists...

                Retired United Methodist Bishop Robert Spain once led a workshop I attended regarding time management.  One of the greatest tools he gave us was to make a to-do list each day.  He said that the creating of the list was essential  to the success of our accomplishments.  The more organized we are, the more effective we can be with our time, and therefore the more effective we can be in our ministry.  The To-Do list was an organizational tool that allowed us to be flexible, but also gives us a sense of accomplishment.  Nothing is more satisfying than to look at a list of tasks at the end of the day that have all been crossed off.  IT was a great tool, to do lists.  But greater still was when he said we should create it. 

                He shared that to try to create the list in the morning first thing is helpful, but not necessarily practical.  Typically, we will spend more time working on the list than actually accomplishing the tasks listed.  Trying to remember everything that we had been thinking of throughout the night before and the morning commute in to the office can be frustrating, and quite often interrupt the flow of accomplishing the very objectives we are setting about to do.  Instead, he said, try to write your list of things that need to be done as the last thing you do before you call it a day.  That way, your mind is still freshly examining all the items from that day’s list that did not get accomplished, which you can transfer over to the next day’s list.  Logical, it seemed at the time.  What I didn’t get to today, I will set about as the task to get to first thing tomorrow.

                Unless you procrastinate.  Then you are in for some real trouble.  My friends along the Rio Grande used to have a saying, “Never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after.”  Before long, your list becomes the one accomplishment that you may never finish.  Lists can be helpful, until they become the only means by which you can accomplish anything – and then the list can become idolized.  “I’m sorry, I cannot help you with your problems today – you are simply not on my list.”

                I remember reading somewhere (although I must admit that I cannot re-locate the exact reference now) that  Martin Luther once quipped, “I have much to do today, so I shall spend extra time in prayer this morning.”  What he meant was that in order for him to have his mind and heart totally focused on the ministry that God had set before him for that day, he had better be spending extra time getting himself right with God before he ever started. 

Getting right with God is essential.  How can we be faithful in the holy tasks we are given – being Christ’s presence in a very hurting world – without spending time with the very Christ who came to save this hurting world?  If we are not in the mind of Christ, we can never hope to be effective in being Christ’s body for those who are struggling with so many of life’s profound issues.  Taking that time to get ourselves right before God – confession, prayer, devotional reading of the Scriptures, and of course listening for God’s word and guidance through the Holy Spirit – can make the difference between just being in the neighborhood and being the Body of Christ incarnate for someone who is truly in need.   “I have much to do today, so I shall spend extra time in prayer this morning.”

                Ouch.  How many times have I started my day without so much as saying, “Good morning, Lord!”  (Better put that down on the list as Number 1.)

             See you in church!

 

Grace and peace,

Brad