Sermon for 3 August 2008 - "Swept Into A Miracle"

I preached at Bethany Lutheran Church in Kelly, Iowa this morning - here's
the sermon. If you're in the vicinity of Wakefield, Nebraska next Sunday,
I'll be preaching at Salem Lutheran Church, my home congregation, for their
125th Anniversary Celebration worship service at 10:30 a.m. Stop on
by!

Preaching Texts

One of the icons of my childhood is the Star Wars saga. I was 3 the year the original “Star Wars” swept movie theatres around the world. I played with Star Wars action figures for years. In the Star Wars saga, there is an iconic moment that almost everyone, even people who aren’t fans, knows very well. It comes in the middle of The Empire Strikes Back. We find Luke Skywalker training to be a Jedi with Yoda on the planet Dagobah. Luke’s X-wing fighter has sunk into the swamp, and when Luke tells Yoda he will try to raise the ship, Yoda scolds Luke: “NO! Do or do not – there is no ‘try.’” When Luke can’t raise the ship by himself, Yoda raises the X-wing out of the swamp while the strings play the Jedi theme majestically. Luke says, “I can’t believe it!” to which Yoda responds: “That is why you fail.”
What a powerful cinematic moment this is! My friend Aaron, a band director in central Nebraska, has used the “Do or do not – there is no try!” line on his students for years. But it’s only a movie, unfortunately. As much as we might wish it were so, we do not live “a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.” There is no soundtrack to the lives we live, and the reality in which Christ meets us is far less romantic than the scorching deserts of Tatooine or the glittering bustle of Coruscant. But Christ does meet us here, and he comes offering something better than movie magic. Christ comes to sweep you into a miracle – not a magic trick, nothing accomplished through special effects or computer imagery, but a genuine, actual, living, breathing miracle. Let us pray: Lord Jesus Christ, we come to you hungry for the faith which only you can give. Fill our hearts with joy in your presence, peace in our souls and hope for the future – and when the time is right, send us into that future to be those who live out the hope you have provided. In your strong, gracious name we pray, Amen.
Perhaps a bit of setting is in order here. In Matthew’s gospel, this story comes hard upon the heels of the execution of John the Baptist by Herod Antipas, son of Herod the Great. So when the gospel tells us that “Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew…to a deserted place by himself,” we can be fairly certain that Jesus wanted to be alone to mourn the death of his cousin and make peace with the fact that yet another of God’s prophets had been rejected and killed. There is a wonderful juxtaposition happening here in Matthew. In the midst of a birthday party thrown in his honor, Herod Antipas couldn’t be bothered to spare the life of one troublemaker from Galilee. Yet Jesus, who was interrupted in his quest for solitude by a crowd of thousands, had compassion enough to feed those thousands. Matthew reminds us of the words of the psalmist, “Do not put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is no help.” [1] There is a world of difference between Jesus of Nazareth and Herod Antipas, a difference we would do well to remember in this season of politics and promises. (I’ll leave it to you to decide which of the candidates most closely resembles Herod – it might be fun, but it would definitely be a digression from our gospel text this morning).
So – into the midst of the teeming crowds upon which Jesus is showing compassion stride the disciples, the ones who have followed Jesus for some time now. They’ve heard him preach the kingdom of God and teach the crowds what it means to put their trust in God. They’ve seen Jesus heal the sick and cleanse lepers. They’ve even been sent out to do some of the same work on Jesus’ behalf. So, after all this, the disciples have only one thing to say to Jesus: “It’s getting late and we’re in the middle of nowhere: send these crowds away so they could go get something to eat!”
It’s hard to say what the disciples meant by this order – and do note that it’s an order, not a request. Some interpreters argue that the disciples were actually showing compassion by reminding Jesus that a crowd of this size will require a lot of time to find food, while others have chosen the more cynical interpretation, that the disciples just wanted Jesus to get rid of the crowds. Regardless of the intent behind the order, the meaning is clear: crowds do not feed themselves, so they must be sent where they can be fed. Little did the disciples know that the crowd had already found the place where they could and would be fed, and not with just a little bit of food, but with an abundance.
So the miraculous feeding of the thousands began. As Frederick Bruner wrote, “Jesus not only cares about hungry people – he does something (and motivates his church to do something) about their hunger. He does not give tracts, advise fasting, or counsel patient resignation. He feeds.” [2] But if this is a miracle, this feeding, it is a miracle of the most ordinary kind. Read the words of Matthew 14.20 very carefully: there was no thunderclap, no tearing asunder of the heavens. No dove descended, no sunbeam appeared, no angelic choir sang. “All ate and were filled.” Simple. Plain. And, we must note, carried out by the disciples, not Jesus. His voice gave the blessing, yes – but it was the disciples’ hands that distributed the meal. However long it took for twelve people to feed several thousand men, women and children, that was how long the miracle took to occur, and it’s a fair bet that the majority of the crowd had no idea that anything miraculous was taking place.
When commentators work with these verses from Matthew, they are naturally drawn to the question of how the miracle happened. Some argue that the crowd, seeing the disciples giving out their own bread, began sharing food they had brought with them. Others argue that it was a miracle ex nihilo, “out of nothing,” bread and fish rising from where there had been none before. In one internet forum, a heated debate rose over this central question: was this “the description of a real miracle” or not? Some of us need Jesus to be the miracle man pulling bread out of his hat. Some of us need Jesus to be an ordinary guy inspiring his followers to share their own out of a mystical sense of esprit des corps. This argument isn’t about Jesus, really: it’s about us, and our need for Jesus to be something we can control, something we can understand, instead of someone we can trust. Arguments about how miracles happen are essentially exercises in missing the point. It doesn’t matter how the thousands were fed; the point is, they were fed, and in that feeding a miracle was indeed taking place.
What if we asked a bigger question: when did this story about Jesus become miraculous? Did this story become miraculous when the crowds were fed, or did this story become miraculous when an overwhelmed, grieving teacher and healer gave up his time of private mourning out of compassion for the thousands who were following him into the wilderness? Did this story become miraculous when Jesus blessed the bread, or when the disciples were given faith to turn around and begin distributing bread they knew wouldn’t be enough for their own needs? Also, when did the miraculous come to an end here? Was it when all had eaten? When the twelve baskets of remnants were collected? What about the day after, when the crowds departed and began telling the story of what had happened? If someone came to faith in Jesus as a result of that story, wouldn’t that be a miracle as well?
The thing about life with Jesus is that the miracles never stop. The crowd that day in the wilderness didn’t so much witness a miracle as get swept into a miracle, one that had been happening for quite some time and is, in fact, still going. Jesus takes what the church has to give, blesses it, and gives it back to us for the sake of the world: and thus the miracle continues. As Thomas Long says, “the church is always in the desert, the place where it cannot rely upon its own resources, which are few. The church is hungry and is surrounded by a world of deep cravings…”[3] Yet even the little we think we have is far more than God needs – after all, for the One who called light out of darkness and shape out of chaos, multiplying a little bread is no hardship at all.
All of us here today are living miracles – not because of who we are, but because of the one in whose name we gather. And, like the disciples, we are not only gathered but sent in His name for the sake of the world. Barbara Brown Taylor says that “Miracles let us off the hook. They appeal to the part of us that is all too happy to let God feed the crowd, save the world, do it all.” But, she says, the call of the church is to be swept into the miraculous, to be a part of what God is doing: “Not me but you; not my bread but yours; not sometime or somewhere else but right here and now…stop waiting for food to fall from the sky and share what you have. Stop waiting for a miracle and participate in one instead.”
There were some in the crowd that day, I’m sure, who ate their food, heard Jesus speak, and went away untouched, unmoved, untransformed. It’s a sad truth that getting through to us takes a lot of time and effort on God’s part. But here, today, you and I are still being swept into the miracle of life in the name of Jesus Christ, the gift of God’s grace which feeds our souls until we are filled to overflowing. Christ has swept us in and now sends us out. This week is your crowd, his love is your bread, your hands and life are his gift to the world – go, friends, and give our Lord Jesus Christ away until all may eat and be filled. Amen.


[1] Psalm 146.3
[2] Bruner, Frederick. Matthew: A Commentary. Vol. 2: The Churchbook. © 2004 by Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., Grand Rapids, MI. p. 66. (emphasis mine)
[3]http://i.ucc.org/StretchYourMind/OpeningtheBible/WeeklySeeds/tabid/81/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/80/Table-of-Plenty-July-28August-3.aspx

Friday Five BLOCKED Edition

Apparently RevGals got blocked last night by Blogger on the suspicion that they are a SPAM website. Kinda funny but apparently pretty common for a big blog like that. It served as inspiration for this week's Friday Five:

1) How do you amuse yourself when road construction blocks your travel?

My campus pastor used to carry a book everywhere he went. Me? I carry my iPod. But even that doesn't always help - I will drive twenty miles out of my way to keep moving forward rather than sit and burn gas in a traffic stop. I loathe and despise 'just sitting here,' in both metaphoric and actual incidences.

2) Have you ever locked yourself out of your house? (And do you keep an extra key somewhere, just in case?)

When we lived in small town Minnesota the only time we locked the house was when we were asleep inside it, so locking up has become a new thing for us here in Ames. I haven't locked myself out yet, but I've been locked out by my loving wife a couple of times. In the hullabaloo of moving, new kids and sundry, we haven't found a suitable hiding place for the yet-to-be-cut extra key - that'll be done sometime before Christmas, I hope.

3) Have you ever cleared a hurdle? (And if you haven't flown over a material hurdle, feel free to take this one metaphorically.)

I'd have to say that my biggest hurdle was when I quit smoking cigarettes in 2003 after 13 years and several failed attempts (I still enjoy the occasional pipe or cigar, but my beloved Lucky Strikes make me sick these days - am I supposed to be happy about that?) I and two friends at Luther Seminary had made the attempt to quit our Lenten discipline, but I was the only one who made it. I think asking Kristin out for our first date one week before Lent started might have had something to do with my success. :-)

4) What's your approach to a mental block?

Crouching Coffee, Hidden Ice Cream. Nothing else works for me. :-)

5) Suggest a caption for the picture above; there will be a prize for the funniest answer!

"The Most Popular Booth At The Paper Chain Figure High School Career Fair:"

The Family 365: The End Of A Day

Yup - we're both pooped.

The Family 365: Old Man Alanna

"I told you kids to get off the lawn!"

The New 365 Project: the Family

I have no idea if this will work or not, but since we're a new family, it seems sensible for me to take on a new 365 project: our family. So, here's some more pictures of Alanna's birth to get us started.

Daddy's first diaper change:

Alanna & Kris in our new minivan; proof, according to some friends, that we've joined the "Breeder" class:

Ainsley discovers that Grandma M has a REAL LIVE BABY - HI!:

A nice quiet moment for Dad & Alanna:

Finally, picture #1 in the 365 project, my girls:

Friday Five: You Can't Take It ALL With You

From Singing Owl over at RevGals:

We will be at a chaplain's convention when you all are answering the
Friday Five Questions. I'll look forward to reading your answers next week when
I get home. At the moment we are trying to get the car loaded so we can hit the
road, so this will be a simple F.F. This running around madly in order to leave
has me wondering: what are the five things you simply must have when you are
away from home? And why? Any history or goofy things, or stories?

We're home from the hospital with our newborn - YAY! Of course, that means we're not likely to go very far for the next few days. In two weeks, however, we're going back to my hometown, Wakefield, Nebraska, for the 125th Anniversary Celebration at my home church, Salem Lutheran. So, maybe some of these items will make the list at that point.

1. iPod. Frankly, I don't leave the house without it anymore. LOVE that little gadget. Great music, audiobooks without the requisite 84 CDs, several hours of battery life without carting along a big recharging cradle or filling landfills with dead batteries - what's not to love?

2. Running shoes & clothes. I can't always guarantee I'll use them, but I always pack at least enough shorts & shirts for a run every other day. Unfortunately, I don't sleep well in strange beds, so sometimes my runs go lacking in favor of more sleep. But there is truly no better way to get a feel for a new place than to go on a run and investigate it.

3. A good book. Like the iPod, I rarely leave the house without reading material.

4. Cell phone. Okay, so this is rapidly becoming a "stuff I SHOULD take with me" list. Yes, in an ideal world I'd never leave the cell behind, especially now that I've gotten my PDA phone. But I don't live in an ideal world, do I?

5. Coffee. Never, ever leave home without good coffee. 'Nuff said.

Ainsley Meets Alanna

Just in case you needed a cute baby video:

More Alanna Pics

Big sister got her first good look at Alanna today, and was very excited. Unfortunately, "excited" translates to "Why does she cry when I poke her nose? My doll doesn't cry when I poke her nose!" But a hug and a kiss goes a long way towards making things better:

Now We Are Four

So much for baby widgets - we had a baby girl this morning!

Alanna Sophia Faye was born at 9:23 AM via c-section. Kristin started having light contractions around 11:00 last night. When contractions hadn't stopped this morning, we went to the hospital and discovered that yes, Kristin was in labor, so the doctors elected to do the procedure this morning rather than put things off any longer.

Alanna (pronounced ah - LAH - na, Gaelic for "dear one, darling child, beautiful child") weighs 7lbs 8oz and was 21 inches long. She has brown hair and brown eyes, cause for much rejoicing from Mommy as it is proof that we aren't just cloning Johnsons around here. She beat big sister Ainsley's score of 9 on the newborn evaluation scale with a 10, which I'm sure is only the first of many sibling competitions to come. She is a very alert little girl, but also likes to nap and appears to be very content when swaddled tightly. Feeding has gone just fine so far. Mommy is uncomfortable, as you might imagine, but doing well and very happy to be done with this pregnancy. Ainsley was very excited to hold Alanna - she even said "Hi" when they first sat together in the chair at the hospital. But Alanna doesn't do much, so Ainsley wasn't too impressed after the first few minutes. Daddy is vacillating between being extremely happy and completely freaked out - holy cow, we have another newborn. :-) Now we are four. Life is good.

The Writer's Almanac Gets Hot Under The Collar

GREAT poem in The Writer's Almanac this morning - just had to share:

The Young Watch Us
Donald Hall

The young girls look up
as we walk past the line at the movie,
and go back to examining their fingernails.

Their boyfriends are combing their hair,
and chew gum
as if they meant to insult us.

Today we made love all day.
I look at you. You are smiling at the sidewalk,
dear wrinkled face.

Friday Five: Blogging on Blogging

A somewhat navel-gazing Friday Five, but fun nonetheless:

If you are a regular reader of Songbird's
blog, you know that "The Princess" has requested a new name. Her
older brother changed his "secret identity" a while back and now this lovely
young lady is searching for a new name on her mother's blog. This got me to
thinking. How do we come up with all of these names? There must be at least a
few good stories out there.1. So how did you come up with your blogging
name? And/or the name of your blog?
2. Are there any code names or
secret identities in your blog? Any stories there?
3. What are some
blog titles that you just love? For their cleverness, drama, or sheer, crazy
fun?
4. What three blogs are you devoted to? Other than the
RevGalBlogPals of course!
5. Who introduced you to the world of
blogging and why?
Bonus question: Have you ever met any of your blogging
friends? Where are some of the places you've met these fun folks?As always, we
want to read what you have to say. I will check in at least once in the morning
before getting in my car to drive home from a business trip. But I promise to
read everyone's post when I get to my own little house.

1. My blogger name is no big secret: Rev Scott is pretty self-explanatory. My blog name comes from Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s book Discipleship, which is Nachfolge in German. It means “Following After,” and I chose it both because it’s German (which I love, though I actually speak very little) and because it’s a fair description of how I see life – ergo my blog subtitle, “Following Jesus in the Real World.” Being a Christian is not a matter of hiding away from anything, or trying to change the world to fit my Christianity; it’s a matter of being faithful in all places and with all people, trying to live as Jesus lived, meeting people where they are but caring enough to help them become something new. Not that I’m Jesus or anything, or that I’m always successful, but it is the lens through which I try to see my life and the world in which I live.

2. My blog has never been particularly anonymous, certainly not where I’m concerned. For a while I tried to keep the names of my family out of it as well, but frankly, I’m not smart enough to do the anonymous thing well. Generally, if it’s not appropriate to share publicly, I don’t post about it anymore. I’ve made some mistakes along the way, mostly out of hurt or anger, like most of us, and I’ve learned to blog with the same rules as email: never, EVER blog angry (unless it’s Pat Robertson who’s making me angry. YOU SUCK, PAT!)

3. I’ve always loved Gordon Atkinson’s Real Live Preacher. “Freshly Ground & Freshly Brewed” by Hot Cup Lutheran and “New! Now In Lutheran Flavor!” make me smile, as does Tripp Hudgins’ “Conjectural Navel Gazing: Jesus in Lint Form.” My friend Matt’s “Confessions of a Lutheran Husker” gets him about as close as you could get him, and I suppose that’s the goal all of us are after, huh? There are others – Milton’s “Don’t Eat Alone” is a good one. I know I’m leaving folks out but it’s early and I want to try to get this done before Ainsley wakes up.

4. The cool thing about using Mozilla Firefox is that you can open up an entire category of websites under the Bookmarks Toolbar, so I’ve got a TON of blogs filed that I just open up all at once, and I try to hit them every day. A Church For Starving Artists and Don’t Eat Alone always provide something great to read. Heather Armstrong over at Dooce is a foul-mouthed, artistic, loving parent and writer, and really, really funny. Hot Cup and I have much in common even though we’ve never met, so I always check in on her (but I’m not so good at leaving comments). But there are about 40 or so that I regularly check, so this is just a sampling.

5. My camp buddy Jeremy introduced me to blogging, which is funny because he’s not been posting a lot since he moved to Berkely to attend PLTS – he used to be a once-a-day poster at the least. Why? I dunno – because it was cool?

Bonus: I met Cheesehead, RevKim & RevDave at the Festival of Homiletics in Minnesota this year. Other than those three, I’ve yet to meet many, though I’m always up for coffee and conversation – if you’re in Ames, stop on by!

learning to talk - sort of

We're a work in progress...

Wednesday Reflection: On Heaven and Work

“So, then, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh – for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ – if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for hat we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” Romans 8.12-25

What’s your vision of heaven? What does it look like to imagine heaven?

I’ve been intrigued this week by Paul’s words from Romans 8 and a quote from Joel Stein, which was printed on the side of a Starbucks cup and received some publicity a while back:

“Heaven is totally overrated. It seems boring. Clouds, listening to people play the harp. It should be somewhere you can’t wait to go, like a luxury hotel. Maybe blue skies and soft music were enough to keep people in line in the 17th century, but heaven has to step it up a bit. They’re basically getting by because they only have to be better than hell.”

I asked you about your vision of heaven because I’m not so sure my old vision of heaven is going to suffice anymore. Even before I heard Mr. Stein’s words on a sermon podcast this week, I was struck by the thought that eternal relaxation and leisure might not be the plan God has in mind.

We worship a God who chose to begin creation out of a desire to create. Forming existence as we know it was not a masters’ degree project for God: all that exists, exists because God has willed it so. Our God is not just an awesome God: our God is a creating, energetic, dynamic God – and we are made in God’s image. We are made to work, to envision, to create, and so I wonder: in the world to come, when all things worship their Creator as they were made to do, it seems logical that the children of a creative, energetic, dynamic God would be at work, in a creative, energetic, dynamic heaven. What we might be making is beyond my imagination, but as the adopted children of God the Creator, it seems certain that we will be reborn into eternal life with a creative purpose, to do more than lounge around and play our harps on fluffy clouds.

Creation and work and all of that are on my mind with this passage because Paul mentions labor pains, too, how the creation is groaning with the work of bringing forth that which God has envisioned. Of course, for me and my 38-weeks-pregnant wife, the term “labor pains” brings up a lot of thoughts, most of which have to do with waiting these days. It seems like all of our friends are either new parents or expecting kids in the next six months, so we’re all in this constant state of waiting for what will be coming forth. In our case, we know there’s a baby almost ready to come into the world, but we have no idea what she will look like (or even if she is definitively she, though the ultrasound folks seem pretty certain). And there is a certain amount of suffering here, too: not only Kristin’s suffering in her body, but also the knowledge that we are bringing forth something that will change our lives forever. There is something of God in the experiences that change our lives, the things for which we suffer, whether it’s bringing a child into the world, earning a degree from a university, running a marathon, envisioning a mission for campus ministry: all of these creative, energetic, dynamic endeavors are in some sense holy because in them we experience something akin to what God experiences suffering the work of creation. I wonder: if you asked God what it feels like to create the world, would God tell you that it is an experience of suffering? Perhaps so, for in our own work we suffer as we bring something new into being – and we are, after all, created in the image of God.

One fear which I find myself addressing quite often in my life is a fear that I’m not creative enough, that I am too much the consumer and not enough the creator. With the way this week’s readings and my thinking on them have moved and worked, I wonder if this is the voice of God reminding me that we are made for more than just satisfying our own desires – that we are creatures made to create, to work for the good of the world, even when such work might bring suffering into our lives. This, I think, is the calling of every Christian: to discover the unique gifts for work which God has given us, and to use them for the sake of the world. As J.B. Phillips translation of the New Testament says, “The whole creation is on tiptoe to see the wonderful sight of the [children] of God coming into their own.” The mercy of Christ sets us free to be creative, to work in God’s world for the benefit of others, and in so doing, we stand on tiptoe, waiting for the glory of God that is coming into the world. Amen.

Majoring in Minor Frustration

These are the days that try my soul.

Okay, that's perhaps a bit melodramatic. But the last 48 hours or so have been, shall we say, less than stellar for the Johnson family. Some good things happened before then, but since yesterday morning-ish it's been a study in frustration and those nippy little problems that really don't matter except when all 94 of them are nipping at you without end.

We bought a minivan over the weekend. Huzzah - we've joined the Breeder class! (Thanks to LeeAnn for that one). We were pre-approved for our loan, just needed to do the necessary paperwork with Kristin's credit union, get the check to the dealer and in a day or two, "Voila!" Did I mention that Kristin's credit union is in Oregon? And that they mailed the check yesterday? Thus we are a one-car household for the remainder of the week. grrrr

Our internet access at the Center was unavailable over the weekend due to our ISP changing something in the DNS and not telling us about it, which meant checking email via webmail from home and not having any of my contact information available when I needed it. GrrrrRRR

Ainsley had a rare cranky day yesterday. She fell - constantly. Like seven or eight times in the hours I was home. Once she was trying to get Kristin's attention, turned around, lost her balance and fell onto the end table, nearly knocking out one of her teeth. Much crying ensued. But she was NEEDY like you wouldn't believe - clingy and crabby and just an all-around pain in the tuchus. This is all the more noticeable because she's normally an unusually agreeable child. At one point Kristin just looked at Ainsley and said, "You're just having a Monday, aren't you, sweetie?" To which Ainsley continued pouting and crying and whining until Daddy picked her up AGAIN. GRRRRRRRR

Today my boss called to tell me that when we submitted our report by July 1st as required, I neglected to fill out my portion. Oops. So, instead of working on this blog post, or Sunday's sermon, or even tomorrow night's Wednesday Reflection, I've been navel-gazing about our accomplishments from last year and goals for this year. Necessary work, to be sure, but stuff I should have been doing in May, not now. GRRRRRRRRRRR!

The phone has been ringing - the church at which I preached last Sunday forgot that the mileage rate for the IRS has changed, and thus didn't send the check - my hostas are dying and need water - these things and everything else here are problems that individually matter very little, but taken together add up to one heckuva messed up week thus far. I've developed the practice of turning off my web browser and email when I'm working on my sermons, to encourage better focus, but I could have turned off the computer this week and it wouldn't have mattered one bit. But that's the life we live sometimes - frustrating and petty and unimportant stuff rises far above its station to derail us, and GRRRRRR is the result. Or worse. Sometimes harsh words get spoken, or, God forbid, tempers flare and fists fly and abuse becomes the end result. Thankfully that hasn't been the case for us, but it is for many, and I would do well to remember how easily it can happen to all of us.

Okay, so this has been one long bitch session of a post. I'm not asking for sympathy, mostly because in the grand scheme of things none of this matters very much. But the next time you see a friend or a complete stranger who has that GRRRRR look on their face, maybe you can remember this post and cut them just a little bit of slack. In the midst of all these minor frustrations, I've found major grace in the kind people around me who've heard my complaints and offered words of kindness. I can do the same even when I'm most frustrated. In fact, trying to be graceful when I'm not feeling particularly grace-full might be the healthiest course of action. I dunno - it's just messy and that's the way life goes sometimes.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've forgotten to leave early for gymnastics class with Ainsley. grrrrr...

:-)

Peace.

Sermon for the 9th Sunday after Pentecost: "Dumbest. Farmer. Ever."

Preaching Texts

Hearers of God's scattered Word, grace and peace to you from God our Creator, Christ Jesus our Redeemer, and God the Holy Spirit, living and moving within and among us this day. Amen.

My father farms 300 acres of rented land on the southwestern edge of my hometown, Wakefield, Nebraska. Wakefield is a town of about 1400 in northeastern Nebraska, approximately halfway between Sioux City, IA and Norfolk, NE on Nebraska Highway 35. The farm where I grew up is about three miles west of town, in the hills that make this one of the prettier parts of Nebraska, but the additional land my dad rents "down by town" is pretty flat, with one exception: the depression we've come to call "Johnson Lake."

If winter has been normal and the spring hasn't been too terribly wet, my dad can usually get into Johnson Lake with a field cultivator and a planter, especially if last year's corn stubble can help hold the tractors up as they roll through the wet spots. But every year, when the spring and summer rains come, Johnson Lake shows up whenever a nice sprinkle turns into something more. For a few years it seemed like my brothers and I were competing to see who could get stuck the deepest in that muckhole – one year I remember getting stuck so bad it took two tractors and our Chevy pickup to get the tractor out. I can only remember one year in the last ten that Dad's been able to harvest anything out of that depression: most years there is still standing water to freeze when November rolls around and everything else has been harvested.

It might seem wasteful to plant seeds in this ground that so rarely produces anything worthwhile. To be truthful, I've often wondered why Dad even bothers to plant it, because the odds are pretty strong against any kind of worthwhile harvest. But my dad has been farming for almost forty years on his own, even longer if you count the years he helped my grandfather before getting married and setting up his own farm. He might seem a little foolish, sowing seed in a Nebraska mudhole year after year, but compared to the sower in the parable from Matthew, my dad's a genius. The sower? He's a real piece of work. In fact, he might just be in the running for the title of Dumbest Farmer Ever.

No one farms like this – ever. Not today certainly, with GPS navigation to take away the risk of leaving what my brother and I called “Buffalo tracks” when we’d cultivate Dad’s corn, with herbicides and fertilizers to eliminate weeds and maximize yields. We’ve got agronomists to analyze our soil and advise us on crop rotation. And, best of all, there’s the Conservation Reservation Program for those acres that just don’t produce – you can let them lay fallow and still earn money. Farmers today are far more educated than farmers in the days of my grandfather, who could remember when his dad bought his first tractor. But even the farmers of Jesus’ day would not have farmed like the sower of Jesus’ parable. True, they would scatter the seed, then rake it into the ground – but that’s not so old-fashioned; I can remember doing it myself in the years we planted oats on our farm. But throw seeds into thorny soil? Not a chance. Cast seeds onto rocks? No way. Scatter seeds on the path? Would you throw seeds on I-35? Not at all – but this sower did. Dumbest. Farmer. Ever.

This, of course, leads to that good Lutheran question: “What does this mean?” Why would Jesus teach with such an improbable parable? More importantly, where am I in this? Am I the seed that is scattered on the soil? Am I the good soil, the rocky soil, the weedy soil or the path? Who is this sower? Who are these birds snatching the seed away? What does this mean?

Well, here’s the thing: this parable isn’t necessarily meant to be easily grasped. Jesus says it himself: “The reason I speak to them in parables is that ‘seeing they do not perceive, and hearing they do not listen, nor do they understand.’” Do I think that this means Jesus is purposely trying to keep people from understanding? No. But I do believe that Jesus’ teachings were meant to be more than just the latest self-help fad, instantly digested and just as instantly forgotten. It’s the difference between taking up the Atkins Diet and trying to follow a healthy lifestyle as a whole. The first is just a means to a superficial end, and not a very good means at that. But becoming more healthy as a whole is not so easily grasped; it is something that has to be teased out of our lives on a daily, hourly, sometimes minute-to-minute basis. In the same way, Jesus taught in ways that changed lives, that transformed souls, with words that were meant to confront and upset and even afflict in order that they might be more than the latest fashion for the trendy set in Galilee. It is still grace, what Jesus offers, but it is not cheap: as Dietrich Bonhoeffer once wrote, “it is grace that must be pursued.” In the same way, understanding what Jesus meant in today’s parable is not a matter of getting our heads in the right place or solving Jesus’ words as if they were a story problem in 11th grade algebra class. Good thing, too, because I barely passed algebra and it was the last math class I ever took.

The truth is, I can't tell you where you are in this parable, how to read it, how to understand it exactly mostly because wherever you are, you're not likely to be found in the same place tomorrow, or next week, or next year, or in the next decade, if you live that long. Maybe you'll leave the church building today with God's word bursting forth in your soul, producing fruit and claiming your life forever. Or, so you think, until Monday's bills come due and your new-found faith is swallowed by the worry about how to pay for that new minivan and keep your cable television at the same time. Maybe you've already stopped listening to anything that I have to say, but at Bible Study on Tuesday with Pastor Myron you'll find yourself captivated by what God is saying to you, and your soul that is a hard path today becomes a freshly tilled and planted field on Tuesday. But I'm not going to stop by saying I can't tell you where you are in this parable – I'm also going to insist that I WON'T tell you where you are in this parable. It doesn't matter if you're rocky ground or a weedy, thorny mess. It doesn't matter if God's Word has been snatched away from you like birds snatching away seed, or whether you've been made so ready for planting that you reek of that wonderful, loamy scent that I remember from all the days running a disk on my dad's farm all those summers while I was growing up. None of this matters.

What does matter is that the sower is still sowing, the seed of God's Word is still being scattered lavishly upon you, and God has promised that this seed, this Word, shall not return empty. To the educated eye, to those of us who supposedly know how these things work, the lavish scattering of good seed on substandard, unprepared soil seems reckless, foolhardy, the kind of thing that only the Dumbest Farmer Ever would do. Yet these seeds, God's Words cast into our lives, take root in the unlikeliest of places. God's Word invades the concrete barriers of our cynicism and our hopelessness. God's Word overcomes the thorns and weeds of our greed and our complacency. And, in the end, we find ourselves bearing fruit the likes of which only the most ignorant of farmers would have predicted.

How do I know this? Because I’ve lived it. I’ve seen seed scattered on unfertile ground – some of it was mine. By way of example, let me tell you about a guy I’ll call Dave Brown. Dave agreed to be the Sunday School teacher for our senior high youth group when I was about fifteen years old. Now I wish I could tell you that Dave was one of those adults who just “clicked” with kids, who had that gift of being able to relate without pandering and without becoming just another kid. But that’s not who Dave was: Dave was an adult, and very much disconnected from our youth group, through no fault of his own. We were terrible to him. We didn’t listen. We didn’t enjoy our time together. We resented our parents for making us show up for Dave’s lame classes. Finally I told my mother (with all the pomposity and narcissism a teenager can muster) how ridiculously boring our time with Dave was, and my mother, to her credit, wouldn’t just let me off with complaining to her: she told Dave what I had said in the hopes that together we could fix things. One Sunday at church Dave cornered me in a hallway and we had a little chat. “I know this isn’t working for you guys,” Dave said, “and I’m sorry. But I want you to know that I’m not giving up on this, because it’s important. Your faith is important to you, and you are important to us as a congregation.” We were unworthy soil for such dedication and commitment – yet through the work of this one man God was scattering seeds where no one could have expected anything to grow. Only now, years later, do I see how the seeds of that faithful man are bearing fruit in me, and it gives me hope for our ministry today and for the fruit it will bear in years to come.

This parable of the sower is not an agricultural object lesson teaching us how to be good soil: it is a parable of patience and hope, promising us that the soil which today seems unworthy of its seed may someday produce a bountiful harvest. If God is the sower in today's parable, then God truly is the Dumbest Farmer Ever, but you didn't come here looking for farmers, did you? There are plenty of smart farmers here, and you could call them whenever you want. Whatever you came looking to find in this place, what you've got is a God of hope, a God of promise, a prodigiously generous, lavish, reckless God who throws hope and love beyond measure into lives that often seem ill-prepared to receive it. It might look wasteful. It might look foolish. It might look like nothing good will ever come out of it. But still the sower shoulders his bag, making ready for yet another day of scattering the precious seed of his Word because He cannot, he will not allow that Word to return empty. From the days of Abraham and Sarah’s laughter at the thought of bearing children in their 90s, to the days of Isaiah’s words of hope to a people living in exile in Babylon, 400 miles from their homeland, to the days of a carpenter from Nazareth who had the audacity to preach and teach with the authority of God’s own Son – in those days and in all the days leading up to this day, God’s word has been sent forth and it has NOT returned empty. You, my friends, are soil onto which the invading, uprooting, transforming Word of God has been scattered: go now, you who have been seeded by the Dumbest Farmer Ever, and bear His good and redeeming fruit for the sake of the world in which you live. Amen.

Friday Five: Summer Camp

Closing Worship at Inspiration Point, Camp Carol Joy Holling, Ashland, NE, June 2007

A great Friday Five from the RevGals: CAMP!!!!!

We're settling into our new new apartment, and after a
lifetime at Montessori Katie is having a fantastic summer at YMCA day camp.
Meanwhile, Nicholas is packing up for a week at Camp Julian, shared by the
Episcopal dioceses of Los Angeles and San Diego. His lists of supplies and
rules--except for the ropes course available to the teenagers and the ban on
IPODs and cell phones--bring back memories of my own happy times weeks at Y camp Ta Ta Pochon, funded by selling countless cases of butter toffee peanuts. So, in celebration of summer, please share your own memories and preferences about
camp.

1. Did you go to sleep away camp, or day camp, as a child? Wish you could? Or sometimes wish you hadn't?

I went to two camps as a kid: church camp at Carol Joy Holling Camp in Ashland, NE, and Camp Cedars Boy Scout Camp near Fremont, NE. Both were incredible experiences, but the more lasting impact came from my time at CJH, definitely. I went for five straight summers, and every year I'd come home and be "camp-sick" for a couple of days afterwards. Loved it loved it loved it!

2. How about camping out? Dream vacation, nightmare, or somewhere in between?

Kris and I have done some camping since we've been married and generally enjoyed the time together. We have different ideas about camping in some ways: I like to get into the woods and hike, while she'd rather find a ranger and do a guided tour, but we both enjoy doing the activities our partner enjoys. We haven't camped in the past two summers due to little ones, but in three or four years we'll be back in the woods with our tents and backpacks. My DREAM vacation is to packpack the John Muir Trail in California - I'm hoping to make that a sabbatical experience sometime in the next ten to fifteen years (provided I can find someone to accompany me, since you don't do stuff like that alone, and Kristin has no interest in that level of backpacking whatsoever).

3. Have you ever worked as a camp counselor, or been to a camp for your denomination for either work or pleasure?

Oh, the five summers I spent as a staff member for Nebraska Lutheran Outdoor Ministries were both work and pleasure! Really, anyone within 200 miles of Carol Joy Holling should take advantage of it - it's one of the best camps in the country in my ever-so-humble (and, of course, completely un-biased) opinion. For me, that time in camping ministry was life-changing; I wouldn't be a pastor today if it weren't for those experiences then.

4. Most dramatic memory of camp, or camping out?

Nothing REALLY dramatic for me in my memory. Oh, of course, there were the thunderstorms and tornado warnings every midwesterner learns to observe, but nothing really threatening ever happened. The most bizarre was the rapid temperature change around 3:00 one morning in 1997. I was site manager at Tipi Village that summer, so since I was sleeping outdoors I woke up sweating and scared because the light was weird. Got outside my tent to see an orange sky, really strong winds and the temperature rapidly rising - from 65 to 85 or so Farenheit in the space of 30 minutes. Crazy weird weather. But nothing else happened, so I just kept an eye on things and waited for morning to come. There's a meteorology term for what happened - I read about it in the paper that weekend - but for the life of me I can't remember it, of course. The most dramatic thing that ever happened to me & Kris was setting up our tent in the rain at Tettegouche State Park along the north shore of Lake Superior two summers ago - inconvenient, yes, but not dramatic - we've been lucky, I guess.

5. What is your favorite camp song or songs? Bonus points if you link to a recording or video.

As I think back on my days as a camper, Day Is Done was always my favorite "camp" song. Which is funny, since as I look back I realize that most of our camp songbook was actually '70s folk songs: Free To Be, Day Is Done, Pass It On, etc. Makes me wonder what my campers from the 1990s think of the songs we sang.

Let me also add my least favorite camp song here: if I get to heaven and the angels are singing Pharaoh, Pharaoh, I'm going to be one very unhappy saint.

Back From My Nice Trip To Lousybloggerville - Didja Miss Me?

I don't know why this happens sometimes. It's not as though I haven't had lots to blog about lately. There's this and this and and, as always, my girls. But I find that it's just tough lately to get focused enough to write coherently. The good news? I seem to be finding my way back into a writing groove. After a few hours this afternoon I've got most of this weekend's sermon written and the remainder blocked out, so finishing up tomorrow and Saturday morning should be a snap.

On This #1, let me just say that in a perfect world this would not be worthy of the salivating coverage provided by ESPN, et al. What has especially irked me this week is the "distraction" question (Will Alex Rodriguez' divorce prove to be a distraction for him and the Yankees as they try to get back into the AL East race?). Look, the AL East is a sports title - the Rodriguez marriage is a family thing. In my book, the problematic distraction was whatever led to the breakdown of the marriage - baseball, especially the Yankees, can step to the background for all I care.

On This #2, it is yet one more reason I'm proud to be a Husker. And, lest you think that my take on This #2 invalidates my take on This #1, I'm a faith guy first, family man second, and a Husker third (Granted, it's a close third sometimes, but how close is my business to figure out, right?).

As to the girls, they're fabulous. When I came home to pick up Ainsley and go to the gym while Kristin went to teach water aerobics, Ainsley came running, leapt into my arms and gave me a big hug. Could life be any better than a moment like that? I think not. Kristin is still GREAT WITH CHILD - heavy emphasis on the GREAT these days. Two weeks to go as of tomorrow, and frankly, I'm hoping and praying we make it that far, because she looks about as ripe as a pregnant lady could get without the baby actually falling out onto the floor vis a vis Monty Python and The Meaning Of Life.

Well, that's the good word from Cafe Diem in downtown Ames - see you tomorrow, I hope.

Sermon for the 8th Sunday after Pentecost: "Yoked In Peace And Truth"

During the summer months I'm free to go out and preach in local congregations, since our student community at present does not worship together on Sunday mornings. Today was my first supply experience in campus ministry, at Palestine Lutheran Church south of Huxley, IA. Here's the sermon:

Preaching Texts

Hearers of God’s Word, grace and peace to you from God our Creator, Christ Jesus our Redeemer, and God the Holy Spirit, active here in our midst this morning. Let us pray: We who are weary and carrying heavy burdens come to You, Lord – even when we don’t know our weariness and we can’t admit how heavy our burdens really are. In this moment, in this place, give us the rest and peace You have promised. Amen.

When I was in the last few years of elementary school, my friends and I discovered Bill Cosby. We would memorize entire albums of his standup act, including the ones about his childhood and his relationship with his mother:

“’Day and night, night and day, work my fingers to the bone, and for what?’
‘I don’t—‘ ‘SHUT UP! Don’t you talk back at me when I’m talking to
you? Think I’m talking just to hear myself talk? ANSWER ME!’”

As I read the first few verses appointed for this morning from the gospel of Matthew, I couldn’t help but think that Bill would understand the frustration Jesus was expressing. “John came and didn’t eat and drink, and you called him demon-possessed; I come eating and drinking, and you call me a glutton. What’s with you people?” But this is who we are, unfortunately: we are people who work very hard to define ourselves by what we are not, especially when it comes to finding our place in society. The late, great George Carlin, who might have been our best social critic since Mark Twain, once asked, “Did you ever notice how everyone who drives slower than you is a moron, and everyone who drives faster than you is a maniac?” Maybe the morons and maniacs aren't the problem - maybe the problem, hard as it is to admit it, is me.

This kind of self-justifying life is an elaborate, expensive, destructive illusion, you know, and we Americans have become masters, virtuosos at living it. In success we glory in our grand accomplishments, and in failure we lament the cruel world conspiring to defeat us. We’ve set up a celebrity culture in which we worship the famous and delight in their downfall at the same time. It is hard, hard work, creating this elaborate illusion in which my own needs and wants get satisfied and I neither feel guilty for taking too much or cheated if I don’t receive what I’m due. This is what we’ve created for ourselves: a world where only the strong survive, where each man IS an island, and where love really does mean never having to say “I’m sorry.”

My colleague Brian Stoffregen, a Lutheran pastor in California, had some thoughts about our 4th of July weekend and being followers of Jesus Christ. He quotes theologian Roger Fjeld, who points out that "the Fourth of July is the first [and perhaps most sacred] of our civil holy days. Fjeld also mentioned that [American] civil religion removes the need for repentance -- the central proclamation of Jesus. We believe that we are right and good -- the best nation on earth -- beliefs that don't lead to repentance. Repentance means admitting that we are wrong and bad and haven't lived up to God's expectations of us and we don't have the power to change ourselves or make ourselves better. Remember how unwilling some former presidents were to admit their faults (think Watergate and Monicagate)?" [1]

There’s been a lot of talk this year about the role of pastors and churches in the presidential campaigns, and for me, the most intriguing has been the reaction to the Reverend Jeremiah Wright of Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago, a congregation where Senator Barack Obama was a member for more than 20 years. I struggle to find the right words to describe some of the sermons Pastor Wright has preached over the years. “Incendiary” might be one – “accusatory” might be another. Pastor Wright spoke passionately about America’s struggles with racism and violence, struggles which continue to this day. The media, of course, had a field day with Pastor Wright’s words and his relationship to Senator Obama, but what I found most disappointing was our collective American refusal to listen to those words from Pastor Wright and see if maybe, just maybe, there might be a morsel of truth within them – the words of a prophet to a people who had long strayed away from the God who loved and created them. Instead, our quest to maintain the illusion of peace, security and conformity drove Senator Obama to leave his church, and religion in America moved a little more toward a religion that looks a lot like the Platte River in my home state of Nebraska: a mile wide and an inch deep.

When we look at the eleventh chapter of the gospel of Matthew, we often do ourselves a disservice by reading only the parts which comfort us, without understanding the context in which they were spoken. Matthew 11.28-30 is one of the most well-known passages from the gospels, beloved by many, and for good reason; but if we read those verses alone, we don’t get the full message, the deep truth of what Jesus is saying to the church. Even our own lectionary folks have shied away from the power and passion of Jesus’ words in today’s gospel: they cut out verses 20-24, which we included this morning, the verses of condemnation for Chorazin, Bethsaida and Capernaum. I can’t tell you why those verses weren’t included in our readings today, but I can tell you a little about those cities and what Jesus might have been saying about them. Chorazin, Bethsaida and Capernaum were Jewish cities that had not received Jesus well – they refused to listen to His preaching, they didn’t believe in Him when people were healed by His touch, and, worst of all, they chose to continue to believe in their own justification rather than to repent. In other words, Jesus went to the churches and found them less willing to repent and believe than the unchurched. If you want to know where you and I fit in this story, it isn’t in the crowds of people meekly listening for Jesus’ words of rest and relaxation: we are the people of Chorazin and Bethsaida, the people of Capernaum, the insiders who struggle with repentance and believe that our status as insiders is what guarantees our good standing with God.

Jesus, like all the prophets before Him and all the prophets who followed Him, had to use harsh words at times to make sure His message was heard. We work so hard at constructing our illusions of security, comfort and invulnerability; when Jesus comes to remind us that we have limits, it’s awfully easy to just refuse to listen. But we Iowans have discovered our limits in these last few months, haven’t we? When tornadoes and floods can destroy our homes and kill our loved ones in the blink of an eye, when the government can swoop in and scatter our friends and neighbors as has been done in Postville, our illusions of security, comfort and invulnerability disappear pretty quickly, don’t they? Think about all the things over which we’ve argued as a church these past ten years or so: sexuality, full communion agreements, all of those kinds of issues. How important are those things, really, when our houses are crumbling and our communities are falling apart?

This weekend, my wife and I took my nephew out to breakfast with his best friend so my brother and his wife could have some down time with their newborn son. We went to IHOP in Omaha, and as we were leaving my four year old nephew, who might weigh 30 pounds soaking wet, tried to push the door open so the rest of us could walk out. He couldn’t even move it an inch, but when I helped him push, he told me “I almost got it!” This is the illusion we create for ourselves: the illusion that “we’ve almost got it!” We know in these days of immigration arguments, flood damage and tornado repairs that we are not secure, that we are not invulnerable, that comfort is not the primary need in our lives. Times such as we have lived through in the past six weeks kill any and all of the illusions that we can indeed make it “on our own.” But now, having spoken harsh words and afflicted the comfortable (that’s us), Jesus’ words of comfort and hope become the words of power they were always intended to be. My colleague Brian Stoffregen makes the argument that “on this ‘Independence Day’ weekend, we might need to stress our need to be ‘dependent’ on God – like an infant is dependent upon parents.” [2] If the comfort and security of this world were really up to us, the work before us would be back-breaking, hopeless and futile – so, shall we not give thanks to God that our illusion is not, after all, the reality upon which the world is founded?

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens,” says Jesus, “and I will give you rest.” All you who carry the burden of security, who struggle under the load of ensuring your survival day by day, trusting no one but yourself; lay it down, and trust in God for the daily bread which God promises to give. All you who carry the burden of comfort, who stagger under the load of boredom mixed with superficial voyeurism and worship of inconsequential things; lay it down, and believe that God has a deeper, more meaningful life to offer you. All you who carry the burden of invulnerability, who groan under the load of pretending that no one could hurt you, that you’re “fine” when you’re weeping inside from pain you’ve denied your whole life long: lay it down, and trust that in the pain of breaking your heart of stone wide open God will be working to give you a heart that moves, lives and loves in ways you could have never imagined possible. To all of us, carrying yokes of grief and sorrow, yokes of anger and rage, yokes of wealth or of poverty, Jesus says, “Take MY yoke upon you – for MY yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” We who gather here in the name of Jesus are given His yoke, together, and in our corporate repentance we are yoked together, to carry our burdens with each other and with Christ, who walks the road in the yoke with us and will never let us walk alone.

Dr. Tom Long, professor of preaching at Candler School of Theology at Emory University, has said that we need to remember that this offer from Jesus is not the kind of “rest” we usually prefer. “He offers us a yoke, not a hammock,” says Dr. Long, and he’s right. There is work to be done here, but it is work that fulfills us, that gives us life instead of draining it away. As I was finishing up my thoughts on these verses last night, the thought occurred to me, “You know, Scott, Palestine Lutheran Church and Lutheran Campus Ministry are yoked together – maybe you should say something about that.” So, I will. We are called in campus ministry to the mission of “Expanding Minds, Deepening Faith, Inspiring Service.” You are called here in Huxley to “Reach Out In Christian Love To All.” These are the places where our ministries fit into the yoke of Christ, and we carry out these missions together, in faith toward God and in fervent love toward one another. I thank God that we in campus ministry share this yoke with you, and I pray for the work you do in Jesus’ name, as we covet your prayers for our work as well. Thanks be to God, that we can lay down our illusions and false hopes in ourselves and take up, together, the yoke of Christ which provides such a joyous burden of faith, hope and love. God bless you in this yoke we share in Christ, now and always – Amen.

[1] Brian Stoffregen, http://www.crossmarks.com/brian/matt11x16.htm
[2] Ibid.

Names

Well, Ainsley is a tough one, but we're working on it...

Monday Awesome Video: Tim Hawkins - Things You Don't Say To Your Wife

Thanks to my sister-in-law for sending this to us...

Sunday Morning Breakfast at Chez Johnson

We've had an unexpected blessing here in Ames this summer. Campus ministry doesn't worship on Sundays through the summer - most of our student population has either gone to summer internships, to church camps or just home for the summer. Generally this is a time for the campus pastor (that'd be me) to get out and about to spread the 'word' about campus ministry. But since I'm new to the area, I haven't really been on anyone's radar for supply preaching. So over the last month I've had several Sunday mornings "off." It's a rare occurrence for us, one that likely won't happen again until I hang up my preaching jock for good (I'll wash it first.), so we've enjoyed this time by eating really big Sunday breakfasts and generally relaxing before going to worship at our "home congregation," St. Andrew's Lutheran Church in Ames.

Today was the last Sunday of this special time. I've picked up three supply dates for the next three weeks, then the baby comes, and by the time I'm off paternity leave, school will be in session and we'll be worshipping on Sundays again. So, this was a day for celebrating with good food, including:

Burgies' Espresso Blend coffee
Blueberry Pancakes made from scratch
Scrambled eggs (with green peppers & sharp cheddar cheese in mine)
Cran-apple juice
and, of course, bacon (everybody sing the bacon song!
"dead piggy, dead dead piggy dead piggy...")

All of this was accompanied by the wonderful sounds of Great Hymns of Faith, the beautiful compliation CD from the St. Olaf College Choir from Northfield, MN. Seriously, if you're a person from a hymn-singing faith tradition, you should own this CD (even if you're not, you should still own it). You can order it here.

One of our favorites is the classic F. Melius Christiansen arrangement of Beautiful Savior. As usual, youtube's embedding line is crap, so here's the direct link. The recording starts very softly, so crank up your volume and enjoy. A blessed Sunday, friends.

Friday Five: Summer Reading

Hey, all,
So, getting my pictures from the marathon is going to be spendy - not sure if I'll post them anyway since, as usual, the pros took worse pictures than Kristin (or would have, since Kris wasn't in Duluth). So I'll post the marathon story later this afternoon. BUT it's Friday and I haven't done a Friday Five in a while, and this one seemed too good to pass up.

Back in the day, before I went to seminary, I worked in the Children's Room at
the Public Library, and every year we geared up for Summer Reading. Children
would come in and record the books read over the summer, and the season included
numerous special and celebratory events. As a lifelong book lover and
enthusiastic summer reader, I find I still accumulate a pile of books for the
summer.

This week, then, a Summer Reading Friday Five.

1) Do you think of summer as a particularly good season for reading? Why or why not?
Well, for me EVERY season is a good season for reading. But then, I was the kid whose first grade teacher said, "I've never told parents this before, but your son reads too much." Like Groucho Marx is rumored to have said, "Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read."

2) Have you ever fallen asleep reading on the beach?
On the beach? No. In my lounge chair in the backyard? Yes.

3) Can you recall a favorite childhood book read in the summertime?
The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings were both summertime reads. Actually, I read them both for several summers in a row from ages 13-20 or so. As far as books when I was younger, I can't remember any summer favorites (because I can't remember the seasons), but the best books I remember were Where the Red Fern Grows, Charlotte's Web and The Grey King (that last one is the book that flipped the fantasy/science fiction switch in my head). Oh, and I do remember my friend Bill giving me the Foundation trilogy by Isaac Asimov one summer - great stuff!

Ooooh, wait - I just remembered a good one! The summer I turned 10, our babysitter gave us a box of books to look through before she sent it to a garage sale. I'm sure she didn't check it very carefully, as a copy of Cujo was in there and she was not the type to let 4th graders read Stephen King. But I grabbed it, read it and never looked back. Did a book report on It in 8th grade that really raised some eyebrows from my english teacher that year. So, there's your summer reading story: how my babysitter corrupted me forever. :-)

4) Do you have a favorite genre for light or relaxing reading?
Probably fantasy/sci-fi, though I wouldn't call it light reading. Authors I've enjoyed on vacation in Minnesota recently are John Grisham and John Sandford. When I need a "sure thing" instead of a new read, I generally turn to Stephen King.

5) What is the next book on your reading list?
You can see what I'm reading now in the sidebar list. Next for me is Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf (just watched the movie last night), Grendel by John Gardner (because it sounds cool), and on the serious side, Confessing Jesus Christ: Preaching in a Post-modern World by my homiletics professor from Luther Seminary, David Lose.

BONUS: see my 2008 book list 'so far' below!

My 2008 Books List - January to June edition

1. 1776 by David McCullough
2. Desperation by Stephen King
3. The Subtle Knife by Philip Pullman
4. Bleak House by Charles Dickens
5. Duma Key by Stephen King
6. The Sandman Vol. 1, Preludes & Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman, Sam Kieth, Mike Dringenberg and Malcolm Jones III
7. The Centered Life by Jack Fortin
8. No Country For Old Men by Cormac McCarthy
9. Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman
10. 1916: The War for Independence by Morgan Llywelyn
11. 1921: The Great Novel of the Irish Civil War by Morgan Llywelyn
12: The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett
13: 1949: A Novel of the Irish Free State by Morgan Llywelyn
14. 1972: A Novel of Ireland's Unfinished Revolution by Morgan Llywelyn
15. 1999: A Novel of Ireland and the Search for Peace by Morgan Llywelyn
16. The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
17. World Without End by Ken Follett
18. Star Wars: Legacy of the Force: Betrayal by Aaron Allston (seriously, could we have a few more colons in that title?)
19. Mister B. Gone by Clive Barker
20. Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer (in German, Discipleship is Nachfolge, the source of my blog title)
21. Star Wars: Legacy of the Force: Bloodlines by Karen Traviss
22. Dreamcatcher by Stephen King
23. Children of the Mind by Orson Scott Card
24. The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon by Stephen King
25. Cell by Stephen King

Now, If We Could Just Get Her To Tape The Daily Show...

Quick and Dirty Grandma's Marathon Post OR "I Ran, I Stopped, I Vomited."

Miles: 26.2
Official Race Time: 4:44:05
Chip Time: 4:39:34
Average Pace: 10:41/mile
Overall Place: 4198
Gender Place: 2930
30-39 Males Division Place: 1160
Sunburned Shoulder Differential: Left Shoulder +50%
Packages of Gu & Clif Shot Bloks Consumed: 2
Toenails Currently Turning Black: 3 (Left #2, Right Big Toe and #2)
Walk Breaks: 4
High-Fives from Al Franken: 2 (because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me enough that I shold run for U.S. Senate...)
Post-Race Vomiting Episodes: 1
Feeling of Elation for Having Faced Down 26.2 Again: Beyond Calculation.

Pics and the story to follow in a couple of days.

Giggly Running Girl

Hi - this is Ainsley. So, I woke up all happy & such yesterday, and after breakfast me & Daddy played upstairs while Mommy took a shower and got dressed. We played the "Chase me!" game - it was fun!

Last Long Run and iPod shuffle

Okay, well, 5 miles isn't exactly a long run when you're planning to run 26.2 in four days, but this was the last run of significance before the big day on Saturday. It's been GO - HO - HO - HORGEOUS in Ames over the last few days, and today was no exception. 80 and sunny with just a touch of breeze to keep the sweat off while I ran - you really can't ask for much better in a late afternoon run.

[EDIT FROM THIS MORNING] I nearly forgot what caused me to think about blogging this run. As I was about a mile into it, I think I might have met an NCAA All-American on his own afternoon run. Hillary Bor placed fourth in the Men's Steeplechase last Friday, and that's him pictured above, flying over the steeplechase hurdle. As I was running, I met a thin African-American runner who was gliding far too effortlessly up 13th Street to be anything but a collegiate runner. It was beautiful to watch him stream towards me, and I turned around & watched for just a second or two after we met. Long, graceful strides and not a grimace of pain on his face. To run like that would be a dream indeed. [end of the addition]

While I am a supporter of iPod bans on race courses, I do enjoy listening to my music while I train. Frankly, I'm of the opinion that runners who need iPods to survive a race should question why they're running in the first place. You might disagree - fine. But it's my blog. :-) Anyway, here's the random run shuffle for today:

1. "Beautiful Day" by U2 - okay, that wasn't random - I usually kick off a run with it, and I listen to it last thing before checking in my bag at the start. Is there a better song for lifting your spirits?
2. "Long Journey Home" by the Chieftains with Jackson Browne
3. "Travelin' Band" by Creedence Clearwater Revival - "737 comin' out of the sky, oh won't you take me down to Memphis on a midnight ride": that was nice
4. "Our Love Is Here To Stay" by Harry Connick, Jr.
5. "Heart of Gold" by Neil Young
6. "A Blessing And A Curse" by Harry Connick, Jr.
7. "The Planets, Op. 32: Mercury, the Winged Messenger" by Gustav Holst, performed by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra - interesting that I should get Mercury, fleet of foot, while I'm running. Does Apple know something I don't?
8. "Under the Weather" by KT Tunstall
9. "Once" by Pearl Jam - My buddy Aaron will like that I've got this album on the iPod.
10. "I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say / Blarney Pilgrim" by Michael Card
11. "I'll Fly Away" by Alison Krauss and Gilian Welch
12. "Astronaut Dreams" by Peter Mayer
13. "Dare You To Move" by Switchfoot - another "is my iPod tuning into me?" song...
14. "Reconsider Baby" by Eric Clapton - from one of my favorite albums, "From the Cradle"
15. "I Can't Get Started" by Dizzy Gillespie
16. "Gloria: Allegro Vivace" by John Rutter - this to end my run? Are you kidding? AWESOME!

The Reading Report

For the past month, I've been trying to get into Quicksilver, a book by Neal Stephenson, which comes highly recommended from others. A few years ago, a friend gave me paperback copies of Snow Crash and The Diamond Age, cyberpunk novels I really enjoyed, so I figured that Stephenson's writing style combined with Baroque age historical fiction would be a lot of fun. Unfortunately, it's not so much fun at the moment.

I'm not sure why I'm not getting into the book at the moment. I can tell from reading it that I should enjoy this novel. The writing is crisp, the story compelling and the characters well-drawn. But I'm afraid that I'm 'just not that into' this book. After several nights of debating whether I wanted this or something else, I decided to give in and let the thing go. It happens sometimes.

One thing I do wonder is whether the attention-grabbing nature of parenting a toddler is preventing me investing the mental space necessary to enjoy a demanding novel like Quicksilver. I had a similar experience with Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell not so long ago, but this was before children and I was able to slog through a book that, in the end, was thoroughly enjoyable. So here's hoping that in a few years, I'll be able to come back and really enjoy a book that, for all my struggles, seems really enjoyable.

Until then, my Stephen King kick continues. Every now and again I feel the urge to break out some old favorites from the bookshelf and enjoy them all over again. Last week it was Dreamcatcher. Currently it's Cell. The difference between SK and other authors who've not captured my attention lately is mainly plot and characterization: King's got the ability to create compelling, sympathetic characters (which I've always claimed is his primary strength as a writer) AND keep the plot rolling along. I just don't have to work to enjoy Stephen King, and at the moment, that's a good thing.

I've finally settled into a good rhythm for morning devotional reading, too. The alarm goes off at 5:00, and by 5:10 I've settled into my chair with a cup of coffee and two books: Bread for the Day, an Augsburg Fortress book of prayers and readings from our new daily lectionary, and something a bit more theologically demanding. Currently it's Ethics by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. After this I'm going to find someone other than Bonhoeffer for a while: thankfully, I've got shelves of unread books in my office that will do.

The most enjoyable 'reading' I'm doing at the moment, however, is in the car. Orson Scott Card is, in my opinion, one of the best American writers of the last 30 years, in any genre. The Ender Quartet is an ethical journey that just happens to be set in the genre of science fiction. I'm currently listening to Children of the Mind from our local library, and even though this is at least my third time through the series, it's as enjoyable now as it was the first time. If you've never tried science fiction, you should give Ender's Game a shot - I'm willing to bet you'll at least last through the first, and it's probable that you'll be hooked for the series.

So, that's the reading update for this month. At the end of the month I'll post my 'list' for the year. Currently I've completed 22 books through various means (CD, iPod, and "good ol' reading"), the question is, will I get to 50 or not this year? Bleak House might have put that in jeopardy, taking nearly the first 90 days of the year, but only time will tell. As you were.