"Inspired by a Grasshopper"

I have a sister who loves all creatures.

This afternoon she touched a slug that was eating my prized penta plants. "It's soft," she said.

Yuk!

Then, on our trip to an apple orchard she had a little visit with a grasshopper.

"Hi, cutie," she said to him. I have another sister. She does not pick up grasshoppers. But she knows enough about poetry to say, "That reminds me of a Mary Oliver poem about a grasshopper."

Well, you don't have to mention Mary Oliver more than once before I'm heading to my book shelf to look up that poem. Here it is:

The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean -
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down -
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

- Mary Oliver

"Night Swim"

Sunday night there wasn't another soul on the lake.

The weekend revelers had gone home. The year rounders had all tucked themselves in their cozy cabins.

I am alone on the dock.

It is warm and still. Silent.

There is a faint, gray glow over the glassy lake although the sun had set hours before. I'd expected compete darkness. Instead I can see the dark outline of the opposite shore. The glistening lily pads. The proud heads of wild rice stalks. Standing tall, now.

If ever there was a time for a night swim, this is it.

I slip in. Water smooth as silk on my skin. Only my skin.

My breath catches with the momentary chill. I warm as soon as I move.

What is is about the night swim that feels so pure? So purifying? Is it because there is nothing between us and the water? And it feels we have returned somehow to a more natural state. To the very beginning.

Is it because in the dark we are just a little vulnerable? Trusting that we are safe in the darkness that surrounds us. In the dark water that envelopes us. In the unknown.

I paddle away from dock and turn back toward shore. I gasp. Overcome by the beauty of what I see.

The full moon, bold and luminescent, is perfectly framed between the boughs of two giant pine trees. It's radiance warming the surface of the lake. Casting moon shadows on the shore. Just below, the cabin. Small and tidy. Windows glowing with warm, orange light.

I stay in the water for a long time, tears in my eyes. I am so grateful.

I climb onto the dock. Usually this would mean a scramble for a towel. Modesty and the night chill would dictate that. But the air is so warm and the lake so deserted that I just stand there, arms outstretched at my sides, trying to take in as much of the night as I can.

Later, I describe my night swim to a friend who says, "Wow! That was a thank you God moment, wasn't it?"

Amen to that, my friend.

Amen to that.

Something about these ... ... clouds had me thinking about heaven. And angels.

Imagining the celestial sweeties romping 'round the cumulus.

Basking in the bright light above.

Looking down and wondering what we're so worried about.

"Relax. Enjoy life. Have faith," They might say. "We'll see ya later."

"How Does Your Garden Grow?"

With eager hands
And faiths from all lands
God's love these teens do show.

Last week my daughter's interfaith youth group worked on a community garden. In a city neighborhood where affordable fresh vegetables are rare. And green space, rarer still.



This is what is known as a food desert.


Christian, Jewish, Muslim volunteers weeded, watered and raked.




And talked and shared.

An intern for the Interfaith Youth Leadership Coalition, April Palo, summed up the power of such work beautifully:

"We didn’t just work in a garden for a few hours; we did more than that. We went beyond our religious boundaries. We went beyond our comfort zones. We shared and talked and worked, and as we did, we provided a heavy counterweight to the institutional forces of oppression in Minnesota. Most importantly, we brought interfaith work into communication with social justice activism, right here in our own backyards. "

You really should read April Palo's entire article about the group's work in the garden. It's hopeful and inspiring. And not long. Just click here.

"A Different Approach to Global Mission"

Mission trips might mean something a little different in our church than in yours. When we travel to other countries we don't consider ourselves proselytizers. We form partnerships with Christian communities and stand in solidarity with them to deepen both our faith and theirs.

We have partnerships with congregations and/or seminaries in Cuba, Cameroon, Brazil and Bethlehem. Small groups from our church travel to each place every year.

We truly see these relationships as equal partnerships. We are not the big American church that's come to fix the small, poor church's problems. We are simply there to be with them. To pray with them. To worship with them. And to learn from them. And that makes all the difference.

Last week, the big biannual national Presbyterian convention took place in Minneapolis. The city swarmed with hundreds and hundreds of Presbyterians with name tags. At one of a number of luncheons held during the week, I gave a short speech on our approach to global mission work.

If you're interested, here it is:

As someone born and raised here in the Twin Cities, I would like to welcome all of you to Minnesota and its very varied weather. About the only thing you won't see this week is snow. And I can't even promise you that. Summer is the stormy season. Just ask the Lutherans.
Spring is allergy season in Minnesota. Which is why the tissue comes out at our church in Minneapolis. But that's not the only reason.
Spring is the time we say goodbye to the graduating high school seniors. And they say good bye to us. We have baptized them. nurtured them. Taught them. Loved them. Confirmed them. Then, in May many of them stand before us and deliver their so called, "senior sermons" during an entirely youth led service. That's when we get to see if any of it sticks. And it does. Gloriously. We weep for joy. And because we can't imagine our community without them as they head off for college. This spring's poignancy was for me enhanced by the fact my daughter, Sarah, was one of those seniors.
Sarah's sermon was short and to the point. A style of speaking to which I only aspire.
Just kidding. I'll keep this brief.
Sarah talked simply about love, the greatest commandment. And her gratitude for church experiences, which showed her God's love in action.
And it took me back to a small church in Matanzas, Cuba. She and I sitting on wooden pews, watching a small, wiry, man pacing, full of energy. Tim Hart Anderson translating almost as quickly as Carlos Pietra could talk. Sarah was about to learn something important. We all were. Even the grownups on the __ annual visit Verseilles Presbyterian, our partner church in Matanzas.
"What is the most important thing in your life?" Carlos asked us. We always start our visit with a joint Bible study with Verseilles members. We went around the sanctuary with our answers. Faith? Family? Justice? The Westminster travelers ventured. Then the Verseilles members...one right after the other...love. Love. Love. Love. Love. These were not idle words.
When my daughter and I had lunch in the beautiful home of Maria and Domingo, Maria said, "I prepared this for you with love." And I could see in her eyes that she meant it.
If in the beginning we believed we were travelling to Matanzas to take care of them, we learned otherwise quickly We and the Verseiles members cared for each other. And in because of that so I noticed our relationships within our own Westminster group changing.
We took better care of each other. We were gentler with each other. More caring. More loving. We were more open with our faith. It was as though the brave faith of the people of Matanzas, which had survived a communist revolution and the desperate special period, made us feel brave. Or safe, maybe. We wept...yes Presbyterians...talking about Christ. It was powerful.
And that kind of experience Comes back to the entire congregation. through sermons and testimonials. In our changed relationships with the people back home.
My daughter has been back to Matanzas twice since and goes again next week. She'll be with Cuban friends her age leading a vacation bible school for younger kids in the neighborhood, which I'm told brings all kinds of young vitality to the church. And noise. And new members. And our youth leaders get a living, breathing understanding of the gospel.
This is the power of a shared, equal partnership.
Do we , as a group, bring supplies? Medicine? Eye glasses? Absolutely. Do we, as a church, commit resources to the church and the Presbytery? Generosity with our resources is central to who we are as Christians, too.
But when individuals members of our church want to send money to their individual prayer partners in Matanzas, we explain that that would not be a partnership then. Not an equal one any way.
And I just bet...and I truly believe this...that if you asked someone at the Verseilles church what we brought with us when we came, they would say energy, companionship. And love.
The idea of an equal partnership is hard is hard for some to accept. #Especially when all of our partner churches struggle mightily with things like poverty, HIV/AIDS, political unrest, or violence. And yet, it is because their faith flourishes in these environments that they have so much to offer us. And it is because we see them as rich in spiritual resources that our partnerships are so enriching for us all.
Right now my 15 year old son is frantically studying Spanish. Even taking a summer course so he can speak it well enough to go to Cuba next summer. I don't want to tell him this yet, because I've frankly never seen him motivated to study anything...but where I'd really like to take him is to our partner church in Bethlehem. I was at Christmas Lutheran Church a year and a half ago.
What I'd like my boy to see in Bethlehem is that hope is alive in a place where it would be very easy to despair. And that is how you know Christ exist. Because hope does not disappoint. Expectations might. But hope does not.
I'd like him to see that faith is deeper sometimes when you have to work to hold on to it. That it's possible to literally pick up shattered pieces of the wreckage and make art from it. Beautiful art. And that is how you know that God exists.
And what possibly could my 15 year old boy offer Christians in an ancient land whose challenges he can only begin to imagine? Well...his very presence could tell them that, even in their dwindling numbers, they are not alone. That there are Christians, young and old, here who stand with them. Wish them well. More than that, pray for them. They know, too, that he becomes a voice for them here. A young voice. And trust me, a loud voice.
Plus, my son is kind of a goof ball. They'd probably get a kick out of him.
In one of my less proud mama moments as Sarah was preparing to make her first trip without me to Cuba I fretted that maybe she and the other Westminster youth maybe weren't going to "do" enough. Yeah, they were teaching vacation bible school in the morning but then there was a lot of just "being" with the kids their age from Matanzas.
I mean, like, what would she say in a college interview if they asked her what she did on her mission trip. Did she build anything? Did she feed anyone? Did she bring anything?
I understand now how she would answer the questions:
What did you build? Relationships.
Who did you feed? Each other.
What did you bring? Companionship. Hope. Love. of course love. the greatest commandment of all.

"The Greatest Commandment of All: My Senior's Sermon"

We baptized a baby in church today. Always an emotional affair.


I don't know what baptisms are like in your faith tradition, but Presbyterians involve the whole congregation.


The minister baptizes the baby. The parents promise to raise the baby in the love of Christ. And we, the church family, stand up and pledge to, " love, encourage, and support" the child and to help them "know and follow Christ." And, you know what? In our church, we really do that.


Never was that more apparent to me then during "Youth Sunday" recently at our church. It's an entirely youth led service. Graduating high school seniors deliver the sermons. My daughter and two others did this year.


She was not nervous.


I was. And tense.


The morning did not begin well.


My husband chose a seat in the sanctuary from which we would have a terrible view of the pulpit. Instead of quietly asking him if he'd like to move, I barked, "Why are you sitting here? You can't see anything from here."


He looked shocked.


So did everybody sitting around him.


It's a side of me that perhaps my church friends had never seen before.


Oh, well. Now they have.


If I wasn't proud of myself that morning, I sure was proud of my girl. She was poised and calm. And so grown up. She's a darned good speaker.


She was the final of the three to deliver her sermon and here's what she said:

I have been -involved in this church for as long as I can remember. In fact in a video that was made for and Interfaith youth group I’m in, I say that my friends have called me a “church-a-holic.” When this video was made, I had no idea that it would be shown all over the country, much less all over the world. Now even youth groups in Russia probably know me as “that crazy church-a-holic girl”

But it’s true… I’ve grown up here participating in the youth group, going on countless retreats and amazing mission trips, Travelling to Cuba, serving as a Deacon, working the front desk, acting in Cabaret and singing in choir, until I became a church choir drop out, for which Chris will never forgive me.

Apart from church and school, I spend most of my time making music. My parents dragged me to classes with names like “Musical Trolley!” and “Music for Creepers and Crawlers!” when I was just 18 months old. And by the time I was old enough to start thinking for myself, I was hooked. I’ve studied piano for 13 years, but more recently I’ve fallen in love with singing. Ever since I started taking lessons three years ago I haven’t stopped singing, or humming whatever song in running through my head. Usually I don’t even realize I’m doing it, which drives my brother crazy, and the three words I hear most frequently from him are “Just…shut…up.”

This year in my choir at school we were given a commissioned work to sing for the North Central American Choir Director’s Association Convention. The piece was by Joan Szymco, a composer from Portland, and the first time we sang through the piece I was blown away. Not only by the music, but also by the text. Szymco took two quotes by Mother Theresa and brought them together with the word “remember.”

It goes like this…

“If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other

Remember

All works of love are works of peace”

When I heard the passage from Romans that was read this morning, this poem was the first thing I thought of..

Love does no wrong to a neighbor.

All works of love are works of peace.

These ideas are deceptively simple, and when taken at face value seem even juvenile. In fact, they are the ideas that we began to learn in kindergarten. But it seems that we stopped learning them then. That as we’ve grown up and matured, it is assumed that we’ve accepted these ideas, without thought or question. If the commandment to love one another is the most important, why do we so often fail?

But clearly this isn’t the case. It’s easy to get discouraged by people’s acts of hate and intolerance.

Maybe Joan Szymco is right. We forget, and we need to be reminded. We need to remember to belong to one another and to act with love.

Music is a powerful way to teach that, but so is the work we do here.

When we were in Bethphage last summer for a mission trip serving people with severe mental and physical disabilities, I was reminded every day, by my friends from this church and our new friends from Bethphage that we belong to one another. Especially one woman I worked with, Amanda. She has an incredible memory and can recite almost the entire movie “Wizard of Oz,” but often has trouble speaking otherwise. During an ice cream social at the end o our week together, we were joking around and I called something she did awesome. Later, she pointed right at me and said, one of the few things I heard her say wasn’t a line from a movie, “you’re awesome!”

It’s moments like these when I am reminded that we belong to each other. When I am reminded that simply loving one another is the best way to create peace.

My friends and I have been so lucky to grow up in this church, Where we are loved and constantly encouraged to act with love. The greatest commandment of all.

"Wow, she really nailed it with that last line," one of the church leaders said to me after the service.


"Thanks," I said. "We really do feel blessed to have our kids raised in such an open, loving community."


Open to everybody.


After the service the youth involved lined up and greeted the parishioners.

Was that ever emotional!

The woman with the colorful jacket is a lovely lady from our church. She's been unbelievably supportive of my girl. She's taken an interest in her music and her school progress. I can't tell you how much that has meant. Just look at my daughter's face light up as she comes through the line and comments on her sermon. What a gift this kind of community is.

Here...

... comes my girl's first grade Sunday school teacher. And now I can't stop the tears. Neither can the teacher.

Because she and the other loving adults in this placed raised these kids, taught these kids, nurtured these kids just as much as we parents did.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

"Biblio"

Congratulations to Hailey!


She wins this beautiful book...



... which includes photos of the Gutenberg Bible.

I asked you to share your favorite book from the bible. I loved reading your answers. Different books are so meaningful to people for so many different reasons.

I love prayerfulness of the Psalms. The promise of Isaiah. And the prose of John.

I love that it is God's word and will withstand the test of time.

Hailey, let me know where to send your new book by e-mailing me at trish.vanpilsum@foxtv.com. Congratulations.

"My New Good Book"

I'm super excited about the new

study Bible I bought.

It came highly recommended by a bunch of people who know about things like study Bibles.

This is my old study Bible.

I like it a lot.

And referred to it often.

So much so, that it became a bit overwhelmed.

And weighted down with notes and tabs and such.

And a bit tattered.

But that's not why I got a new one.

I actually kind of like when a Bible gets well worn and comfortable. Sort of like an old friend.

I got the new study Bible because of the amazing explanatory notes it has before each book and within the text.

I just think it will help illuminate God's word for me in a way the old study Bible couldn't.

But that doesn't mean I won't miss my old Bible. And pick it up now and then.

Speaking of Bibles, pictures of the previously unphotographed Gutenberg Bible are part of the stunning photo essay that make up the book Biblio.

Photographer Natasha D'Schommer, who happens to be from Minneapolis, lovingly captured what is likely the most expensive book on the market today (the Gutenberg not Biblio). It was first substantial book printed with movable type in the 1400's.

Biblio also includes photos of J.S. Bach's Cantata No. 33 and Emily Dickinson's chocolate recipe.

It's a beautiful book, worthy of coffee table placement.

And it could be yours.

To enter the giveaway just leave a comment below. Answer the following question, if you like. Or leave a random comment.

What is your favorite book in the Bible?

"God's Words"

Why did I cry?

Why did the tears stream from my eyes the instant I saw God's words. Tiny fragments of them, really.

The Dead Sea Scrolls. Oldest existing copies of the Bible.

The words of Isaiah were familiar:

"Of the suffering of his soul he shall see the light and find satisfaction.

And through his knowledge my servant the righteous one, will make many righteous,

he he will bear their iniquities...

And yet, this time, when I read them, I cried.

Maybe it was seeing them actually penned by the hand of an ancient scribe. Trying to imagine the life of the man 2,000 years ago. The depth of his faith. His steadfast dedication to his task.

Maybe it was understanding for the first time, thanks to a thoughtfully prepared exhibit at the Minnesota Science Museum, the significance of the responsibility of the preservation of those words to the culture of that time.

Maybe it was simply marveling at the enduring message. Words as important today as they were 2000 years ago.

"God," I remember thinking as I gazed at a portion of Psalm 119, "your words have travelled far."

"My eyes fail with watching for your promise;

I ask, "When will you comfort me?"

Maybe it was because I have seen the caves near Qumran where most of the scrolls were unearthed.
Overlooking the Dead Sea.
The pull to return there has always been strong. But yesterday, staring at those fragments, it was almost as though God's words were calling me back.

"The Prayer Of St. Patrick"

No green beer for me today.

I always start my St. Patrick's Day with The Prayer of St. Patrick. It's one of my favorite petitions. I especially love the third stanza.

The Prayer of St. Patrick

I arise today

Through the strength of heaven;

Light of the sun,

Splendor of fire,

Speed of lightning,

Swiftness of the wind,

Depth of the sea,

Stability of the earth,

Firmness of the rock.

I arise todayThrough God's strength to pilot me;

God's might to uphold me,

God's wisdom to guide me,

God's eye to look before me,

God's ear to hear me,

God's word to speak for me,

God's hand to guard me,

God's way to lie before me,

God's shield to protect me,

God's hosts to save me

Afar and anear,

Alone or in a multitude.

Christ shield me today

Against wounding

Christ with me,

Christ before me,

Christ behind me,

Christ in me,

Christ beneath me,

Christ above me,

Christ on my right,

Christ on my left,

Christ when I lie down,

Christ when I sit down,

Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,

Christ in the eye that sees me,

Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today

Through the mighty strength

Of the Lord of creation

"A Psalm for a Glorious Day"

It is good to give thanks to the
Lord,
to sing praises to thy name, O
Most High;
to declare thy steadfast love in the
morning,
and thy faithfulness by night,
to the music of the lute and the harp
to the melody of the lyre.
For thou, O Lord, hast made me
glad by thy work;
at the works of they hands I sing
for joy.

"We Belong to One Another"

Sometimes music says so beautifully what we try so hard to say in ordinary words.

Take my recent post in this section on the importance of interfaith understanding.

I went on and on about it as I remember.

So this weekend I'm listening to my daughter's choir, along with another local high school choir,... ...perform a song that had been commissioned for the regional conferences of the National American Choral Directors' Association and suddenly I realize...that's it! That's what I meant to say!

By the way, that's my girl. Front and center.

The piece is called All Works of Love. It was written by Joan Szymko. The text is deceptively simple: two short quotes from Mother Teresa joined by the word, "remember," which was added by the composer.

If we have no peace

It is because we have forgotten that

We belong to one another.

Remember

All works of love are works of peace.

I just can't get that line out of my head: we belong to one another.

We belong to one another.

Those few lines were set to the most glorious music. And they were repeated over and over and woven within each other. If I were musical the way my kids are I could explain this much better. All I know is that it was masterfully done. And there were times the piece was so powerful I forgot to breath.

The composer's task when accepting this commission was to create a "sacred work." According to the program, the composer chose a text that was universal, recognizing that compassion is a shared virtue in all faiths. The program reads: "The Dalai Lama has said: 'Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive.'"

I remember writing not long ago that if people of different faiths didn't learn to work together there was no hope for humanity.

I did not write it as musically as the composer did.

Indeed, "We belong to one another."

"Living Water"

The New Testament reading at church today was John 4. You know, the familiar story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well. It's one of my favorites. I love it on so many levels.

Jesus shows his radical nature in this exchange. Defying societal and cultural boundaries by conversing with the Samaritan woman. Who are we, then, to turn our backs on the outcasts, the marginalized in our communities?

Jesus offers the woman the living water. "...those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty."

Imagine never being thirsty again.

Our thirst. Our appetite for the things in life that in the end...and I mean the real end...won't matter seems insatiable.

Money, power, material goods.

I know of what I speak. Few are immune.

Aren't we really just trying to fill the empty spot within us?

I feel fundamentally unlovable. So I ceaselessly seek attention from others.

I feel fundamentally unattractive so I ceaselessly spend more than I should on myself--clothes, hair, make up, accessories. And tell myself my profession demands it.

"Anyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again."

In the living water Jesus offers a different way to live. Who is brave enough to accept it?

Consider the woman at the well with her five husbands and the man with whom she lives out of wedlock. We don't ever learn why the string of men in her life. This fact hints at and her open response to Jesus tell us she is a women clearly in search of a different kind of love.

A different kind of water.

The woman is an outcast even within her own 'lower class' community. She goes to the well under the heat of the midday sun, likely to avoid her judgemental neighbors.

And yet, presented with the man she suspects is the Messiah she has the courage to return in the light of day to that community to share the Good News. And not just the courage. But the generosity. Put yourself in her place. Could you? Would you?

She even leaves her water jug behind. A short sentence in this story but weighty with significance. Vessel of life. Likely one of her most important possessions. She sheds it along with all other life burdens so that she may run unencumbered into her new life.

What do you need to leave behind before you can accept a new way of living? Christ's way of living?

It is also an acknowledgement, I think, that for as important as well water is to to the woman..to all desert people...it is the Living Water water that will save her.

Save us.

We can drink and drink and drink of the things of the things of the material world . Or we can consider a new life in the way of Jesus.

It may seem an easier choice for the woman at the well or for the marginalized in our own communities. They have everything to gain. And much less to lose. We have so many things. So many precious things.

And, yet, why does it seem I'm never quite satisifed?

Perhaps I am drinking the wrong water.

"The Path Toward Peace"

I know of only one path toward peace.

My daughter and some of her friends are on it.

We should listen to them.
If the rest of us can not find our way to this path there is no hope for this planet. Only self-destruction.

My daughter hangs with this group called the Interfaith Youth Leadership Youth Coalition. See how serious she looks in her stripes? This is serious business...this trying to save the world stuff.

Actually, these kids have a lot of fun. They are kids from all faiths learning about each other. And working together. There are Jews and Muslims and Catholics and Protestants and Buddhists and Unitarians and a couple of things I'd never heard of.

One thing they discovered right away...

...is that all their faiths have strong service components.

You serve God (or Gods) when you serve the community.

Today the Interfaith Youth Leadership Coalition organized several hundred teens of all faith backgrounds.

They did service projects all over St. Paul.

They also spent several hours together just learning about each other. More like celebrating each other.

Keep in mind, for most kids today was a day off of school. A day to sleep. To catch up on homework. These kids got up early to volunteer and to connect with kids who are different from them. But the same, too.

The important thing to know about this interfaith work is that it is not about a blending of the faiths. It's not about converting others to your beliefs and you to theirs. In fact, to take part in good interfaith dialog you've got to be really secure in your own faith.

A lot of people find their commitment to their own faith deepens when they develop friendships with people of other faiths...at the same time they learn to appreciate their friends' beliefs.

It's kinda like loving your neighbor as yourself, wouldn't you say?

I always thought Jesus was an interfaith kind of guy.

I know of only one path toward peace.

Are you on it?

"Some Thoughts on Making a Difference"

I have this book called Looking for God in all the Right Places.
Kind of a cheesy title, right?
But I love it. And I pick it up now and then and read the short reflections written by various authors.
I have many of them marked because they've touched me at certain times of my life.
This morning I opened the book to one called "Did I Fill My Life with Love" and Bam...I was overwhelmed.
I thought about all the people around me in the past few weeks trying to make a difference in Haiti...loving people they don't even know.
I thought about my family and friends...hoping they know how much I love them.
I thought about the people who don't know the love of family and friends.
And I sent a prayer out for them...that they might know God's unending love.

DID I FILL MY LIFE WITH LOVE By Richard Carlson

In the end, I think my greatest concerns will be,

How much love did I have in my life?

How did I share my love? Who loved me?

Whom did I treasure?

Whose lives did I impact?

Did my life make a difference to someone else?

How did I serve the world?

I'm certain that my only concerns will be about

how I did or did not fill my life with love.

"Keep Your Lamps"

Oh, how the spirit swelled in my heart this morning. I could just feel it spreading in my chest until I was about to burst. And spreading still...out into the sanctuary. And into the world beyond. And, oh, how I needed that.

It was the music that started it. Music can do that. An African-American spiritual based on the scripture verse "keep your lamps trimmed and burning." An a cappella group called Cantus just raised the rafters on that piece. Let me tell you, Presbyterians don't clap in church but this morning we were a clappin'. Talk about making a joyful noise!

When I went online to find some of the group's music so I could link you to it, I read that Cantus is considered by some the premier men's vocal ensemble in the country. So I'm feeling pretty blessed to have heard them this morning. Now you can, too, right here. Enjoy!

"Please Don't Judge Christianity..."

...by the words of Pat Robertson.

I have read opinions to that effect today.

His proclamation that Haiti's earthquake comes as divine reckoning for past political deeds and current theological transgressions has alienated many. Rightfully so.

But to condemn all Christians based on Robertson's words seems as judgemental as ...well...as Robertson himself.

I talked with my pastor about this today.

Robertson, Pastor T. said is no longer an evangelist. "He's an anti-evangelist."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"He's working against the Gospel."

Working against the Good News that Jesus Christ's death on the cross restored our relationship with God. The Gospel is about forgiveness not condemnation.

This is a time for compassion not condemnation.

And compassion is something the Christians I know do very, very well.

"A Voice From Bethlehem"

I know a man from Bethlehem. He is speaking.


He is asking for peace. And love. And freedom for Christians in Palestine.


He no longer speaks alone.


He is a minister named Mitri. And he is just one of many who wrote what they call "a cry for hope," which you can read here.

Important people and churches around the world support this cry. You can read what they say here.

It's just something to think about. Or something to pray for if you're so inclined as we enter a new decade.

"Oh Little Town"

"Oh little town of Bethlehem how still we see thee lie." "Above they deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by."



Except for our voices quietly singing the beloved hymn, all was hushed in the labyrinth of caves
that may well be the place where Jesus was born.

Above us is the Church of the Nativity. Elaborately adorned. A shrine where people wait in line for hours and different factions of the Christian church still fight, sometimes physically, over inches of space.

It is in the peace of the caverns below that we sense the holy presence. The voices of my travel companions aree beautiful. They are other members of my church. They sing like angels. A few other travelers make made it into the labyrinth below the church. The stop to listen to our group. And are moved, you can tell.

Bethlehem. Jesus would weep to see her. No longer a thriving multi-faith village. Violence between Muslims and Jews have trapped Christians inside a concrete cage. Literally.

There was an interesting article in National Geographic recently about what it's like for Christians living in Bethlehem now. I make no political statement in providing this link here except to point out that there's a certain irony in the difficulties the followers of Christ face in the Holy Land. Or perhaps not. For it was Christ himself who first said "no prophet is accepted in the prophet's own hometown." Luke 4:24

But there is hope. We stop at a bustling store and buy goods produced by Christian artisans. Like this nativity scene.

Mitri Raheb, Pastor at Christmas Lutheran Church has built a school and is now trying to build a university. Bright Stars of Bethlehem is an organization trying to support that work.
You can read more about it here.

Everywhere we gont in the Holy Land we read scripture and sing hymns tied to that particular spot. It is an incredible experience.

No where is it more powerful than in the place of our Savior's birth.

"O come to us, abide with us, Our Lord Immanuel!"