November 18th, 2009
By now many of us are beginning the frantic and frenetic pace of preparing for the descent of families around our tables. Some no doubt are mentally packing Thanksgiving away even before it has arrived and moved on to Christmas lists and schedules and decorations. Before we begin the wonderful Advent journey that begins in just two Sundays I would like to share with you a few lines of gratitude. Here is my abridged list for this year:
· Growing up in a rural county on a farm surrounded by a family that believed in conversation, work, and fierce loyalty.
· Looking out to my back yard and watching gold, umber and burgundy leaves flutter to the ground.
· Good books and great books.
· The memory of my old dog Samson, now buried in the back yard. Six months after his death I am still finding the remains of old tennis balls in our woods that he use to fetch with arthritic joints and drop at my feet smiling as dogs so often do.
· My little plot of collard greens and my hope to begin picking them for New Years Day.
· A cord and a half of split and dry firewood given to me by a generous church member.
· The Aiken Farmers Market and the beautiful people who grow wonderful things to eat. One Saturday we met a grandmother selling delicious apple cakes – we wanted to take her home with us, but we bought a cake instead.
· Wednesday night dinners. Sure, I take my food home to eat but it is not really about the food. Just to see church members and laugh and talk is nourishment enough.
· There are few things that happen at church that are any better than a hug from one of the children and to hear my name called. I wish I could remember the name of every child like “Mrs. Patti” but each one is very special.
· My two boys who are now young men, with drivers licenses, facial hair and their own personalities. I remember well when they were just babies and needed us for everything.
· Amy. After all these years there is still the marvel of discovery and wonder. There is also the comfort of the familiar. In the words of the poet Browing, “Grow old along with me/ the best is yet to be.
You know something? There just is not enough space to write about it all. Thanksgiving is really not about a day or season. Thanksgiving is a way of living. I am grateful to spend part of my life with you, my church. Thank you for being such an important and enduring part of my life.
Grace be with you,
Greg
November 10th, 2009
I am not known for clean cars. I like a clean car but most of the time my car looks like a piece of discarded lent parked between the lines. The other day one of my sons said, “Dad, I need some money. What can I do to earn a few dollars?” (there is no point in trying to guess which son I am talking about since both of them always need money. I was the same way at their age) “Wash my car,” was my response, “and I’ll give you ten bucks.” In fairness I should have paid them a hundred considering how dirty the car was.
Like I said, I like a clean car but most of the time it looks used. This may go back to the days when I owned a pick-up. It stayed on the muddy side. Imagine as your pastor a muddy pickup parked outside of the church. Well, three other congregations suffered the indignity of my truck that was better suited to be parked outside of a honky-tonk instead of a church. Rarely was it seen in public clean because my philosophy was that only yuppies have clean pickups. It was true that my vehicle was not the sharpest in a funeral procession, but most of the time I rode with the funeral director, because my heater never worked.
While I must apologize to you, my faithful congregation, that my car stays dirty more than it does clean, I make no apologies or excuses for any member who chooses to keep their truck burnished with thick layers of Georgia clay. Besides, trucks are supposed to look used. That is what they are for.
At the end of the day I believe we are suppose to look a little used too. Woe to the one who goes through life clean as a whistle, never dirtying their hands with the “stuff of life.” We are put here to get used up in the service of others. I love the image in John’s gospel where Jesus takes off his “party jacket” and roles his sleeves up to wash feet. In an age of antiseptic gel and SUVs that have never seen a dirt road, Jesus seems to be saying if you want to follow me – get dirty.
Do something with your faith today: forgive an enemy, love a stranger, give to someone without them knowing it.
Grace and peace,
Greg
November 3rd, 2009
This is my third and final blog related to my recent cruise. As you know I have fretted over getting sea sick given my propensity to motion sickness. Thanks to good advice and a prescription for a derma patch I survived my week at sea quite well. I enjoyed spending time with 47 folks from the church as well as leading a Bible study on the topic of “Extra-Canonical Literature,” all without the least bit of queasiness from cruising the Caribbean.
What I was completely unprepared for was land sickness. Apparently for some of us readjusting to dry and steady ground can be a nauseating experience. It even has a name: Mal de Debarqument. I read where it is most common in pre-menopausal women…and apparently me. I assume there is not much to do but ride it out. Still, it is pretty embarrassing to sit at my desk and hang on for dear life while someone is trying to have a conversation with me. I just want my equilibrium back.
Have you ever been sea sick or land sick? What about life sick? We have all had events come our way and like a rogue wave sweep us off our feet leaving us out of balance. I have a better understanding now of those disciples who were crossing the Sea of Galilee while a storm threatened to sink them – of course I was on a 14 story cruise boat and the ocean was as smooth as glass. Do you remember the disciples’ plea with Jesus? “Do you not care that we are perishing?” (Mark 4:38) They just wanted their balance back.
Maybe that is why the church was symbolized as a boat in early Christianity. It is where we go when the sailing is smooth and it is where we hang on when the storms of life rage. In calm times and in torrential times we look to Christ to restore us.
Come to the church, not made by hands and brick, but of people on a journey.
Come to the church, to find balance and perspective.
Come to the church, to ride out the storms and look ahead for the shore.
Come to the church, where Christ is present and who cares very much whenever sea or land or life has made us sick.
After two Sundays away from our church, I am very much looking forward to worshipping with you this Sunday. If I am hanging on to the pulpit like at a captain at the stern you will know why.
Peace, peace, peace,