The Frozen Chosen

You may have heard by now that during our Sunday Funday time for the children at church yesterday, the kids all went sledding! Our church property has a great hill for sledding (and slip and slide in summer)! Everyone brought their snow clothes and sleds and took off for the snow, supervised of course.  They also had a brief lesson; the subject of the day was “good and bad choices.” Perfect. I asked one of the kids if we should just cancel church and let all the grown-ups go out and sled too and she said, “yeah!”  After church service was over, they all traipsed in for fellowship time, steam practically rising from their heads, snow tracks melting along behind them.  They went straight for the cookies and lemonade, clearly worn out from their fun.  Throughout the fellowship hall, all the adults had a fun sledding story to share. Everyone was reminiscing about their own snow days. It was a bonding moment for all that I did not anticipate.  We spent our worship considering our core identities (children of God), and our children making core memories about family, friends, and church.  Maybe one day they’ll sit around a table and tell their kids about sledding at church. I won’t soon forget it.  Looks like Presbyterians really are ‘the frozen chosen’ after all. 

Winter Wonder

Snowflakes

F

 A

   L

      L

         I

           N

              G

B l a n k e t (all the)

N-O-I-S-E

Peace

                          G             

                     N

                   I

              S

           I

     R

A

Capture (all the)

J-O-Y-S

LTM 1/5/25

a little Fuller

When my dear Hollins sister Katie was ill, her husband Seth and our friend Jeremy put together one of the flower bouquet Lego sets for her.  When Seth took it into the room for her to see saying, “What do you think?” She said, “It could be a little fuller.”   So, Seth bought a second set and filled in the bouquet.  While this shows a couple of things about my dear friend—that she always spoke her mind, and never stopped giving Seth a hard time—there’s also some deep truth to what she had to say….

As we approach 2025 (this boggles the mind), I wonder, could life be a little fuller?  I know, I know…many of us have been trying to make our calendars less full.  But the flurry of here to there and back again isn’t what I mean.  It is what we fill our time with that is important.  The days between Christmas and New Year’s often have me in an odd state of limbo.  Hard as I try to embrace the idea of living off cheese ball and cookies, hibernating like a bear, I can only go for so long with “nothing” to do.   But sitting still is important.  Letting go of what doesn’t serve us is valuable.  And replacing that which does not serve with that which does nourish us is vital.

I read a suggestion that when the Christmas Tree comes down (ours will remain until Epiphany or close to thank you very much) that you pack your decorations in an orderly way so that next year pulling them back out isn’t chaotic. This I am already on top of!  Furthermore, you should also have a trash bag with you.  Any decorations that are worn out or broken should be discarded.  Well now, I have ornaments that have been on the tree since before I was born… so this might be tough.  But I am determined this January to take a really hard look at what we have, because each year we get more ornaments—and we’re running out of tree branches upon which they can hang!

It's like pruning right? Jesus had something to say about that.  You trim back the branches so that the plant grows back healthier.  What can you set down going into 2025 and what can you pick up, that might make the bouquet of your life fuller this year? 

Twas the Saturday Before Christmas

A silly little reminder not to take yourself, or the secular spin of the holidays too seriously. :)

Twas the Saturday before Christmas

And all through the house

I’d done the cleaning to prepare

the arrival of the parents of my spouse.

Our packages were bundled

Our lights twinkled merry

I made mama’s cheeseball

So good it was scary.

I was quite nervous

To play the host

For Christmas to be perfect

I wanted to boast.

I hustled, I bustled

But my husband said stop

We are with our family

How could it flop?

And in the blink of an eye

I had nothing to dread

For in came the family

With cheer to be spread.

So, I in my red and black

Buffalo plaid pants

Tried to sit back

As they entered the manse.

On Auntie, on Uncle

Grams and Papa they came

With presents and goodies

All wrapped with our names.

We scarfed down the food

Opened gifts with elation.

Then filling the lull,

To quote Christmas Vacation,

My dear brother-in-law said,

“Stop it, Clark!

I don’t want to spend the holidays dead!”

LTM  12/22/24

ANTICIPATION

Angels

Nod

To

Incarnation

Christ

Immanuel

Preparation

Animal

Tableau

Invitation

Overture to all the
Nations

LTM 12/14/24

Our Lady Of Paris

When one looks upon Notre Dame in former photographs and videos, what you see is a towering structure, an architectural feat with intricate carvings and frescos, gigantic stained-glass windows.  The first stone was laid in 1163.  The famous south rose window was placed in 1255.  At her completion the year was 1345, 182 years in total. To stand in her shadow is to look up in awe at the ingenuity, creativity, and sacrifice it took to construct her.  The cathedral’s gothic architecture was groundbreaking, particularly in the creation of flying buttresses, those long, spindly external stone supports that bear the weight of stone. This allowed the building to be built taller and narrower, with much larger windows to let in light. When I visited Paris in college I didn’t go inside Notre Dame because the lines were long, and this was a quick trip with much to see.  But we certainly walked around her and admired her architecture…though scaffolding was built around it in certain places as these ancient buildings are always under repair and restoration.  Over time, I believe what we saw of Notre Dame was a shadow of her former glory.  Her interior was dim, her stones gray, her windows clouded, her frescos dull. Now, as the world sees glimpses of the cathedral following her restoration from the 2019 fire, we can truly see what she would have looked like in 1345.  The nave is so bright and airy! The stonework is bright, the marble is shining, the frescos are vibrant with colors that don’t seem to exist in the natural world.  It has always seemed inspiring, but truly to look upon this structure takes one’s breath away.  I cannot imagine standing in the center of her vaulted ceilings hearing her bells ring out over the city!

This is the nature of Advent.  In the deep, dark night we wait, we wait for the light to rise and shine all around us.  We wait for the coming of the son.  

Isaiah 9:2 reads, “The people who have walked in dark have seen a great light: those who dwelt in the land of the shadow of death. Upon them a light has shined.” This is also found in Matthew 4:16. 

Micah 7:8 says, “Though I have fallen, I will rise.  Though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light.”  

1 Peter 2:9 charges us, “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light!”

Like Notre Dame, we stand on the faith of centuries, of the saints who have come before us.  Without close attention, time passes and we become a shadow of our former selves.  We become covered in the muck and mire of the world.  Our light becomes dim. And perhaps, perhaps the flames that threaten to destroy us, come to refine us.  And the smoke that threatens to choke us and cover us in ash, comes to redefine us and purify us for the next part of our journey as followers of The Way. 

 I love that the workers who restored the cathedral are called Companions of Duty. Notre Dame could not be restored to the purest version of itself without the dedication of multitudes of individuals bringing their expertise and craftsmanship to the table.  It is the same for us.  For our light to shine as a city upon a hill, we too need each other as companions.  To remind us of our true colors. To help us reason together, as Isaiah tells us, that though our sins may be scarlet, they shall be made white as snow.   As one news article tagged the Cathedral’s story: “From Ashes to Glory”.  May it be such a season for us, also. 

Going the distance

Did you know that Bethlehem is only six miles south of Jerusalem? And Nazareth, the city of Jesus’ childhood home was ninety miles from Bethlehem.  Thus, the real distance between where Mary began her journey of motherhood and where it ended was less than 100 miles.  Remember, she pondered all these things in her heart.  She knew God was present, she also knew how things could end for her son.

During his ministry, it is thought that Jesus traveled roughly 50 miles east and west and up to 150 miles north and south.  But the region of Galilee, where Jesus performed most of his miracles and ministry was only about 3.5 square miles! Now, when our children and grandchildren tell us there is nothing to do ‘way out here’ we can say, “Jesus lived his whole life in a space no larger than the distance from Lexington to Richmond.  And furthermore, the fullest years of his life happened within 3.5 miles…. that’s less distance than from the church to the elementary school.  Now, git!”

What I want us as followers of the babe born in Bethlehem, the babe whose destiny it was to travel up to the mountain of God in Jerusalem, is that his ministry was impactful even though it occurred in a rural location.  You’ll recall people like Nathanael asked Phillip, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?”  Obviously, we believe the answer is yes.  But do we believe anything good can come from our little corner of the world? Do we trust that we have the energy, the intelligence, the imagination, and the love to be instruments of God’s grace?  Do we dare to believe that in the five- or ten-mile radius between our little Presbyterian church signs along the roadways that point to our building, we can make a difference? You’ll recall Jesus charged his closest followers to make disciples of all nations before the inventions of the planes, trains, and automobiles! They were to begin in Jerusalem right where they were. And as their ministry gained momentum it would travel into places beyond their comfort, Judea, Samaria. And finally, to all the earth.

What Jesus did in Galilee you can do here at home.  In fact, I suspect you already are! Jesus would stop along the road and chat with the folks working in the fields or along the shoreline.  Perhaps taking a noonday break under a scrub tree for a bit of sustenance.  Do you stop and check in on your neighbors that way?  Jesus would often be invited into someone’s home for supper. He would graciously accept these invitations even though these were often people that would be shunned in other circumstances. Do you visit the sick and infirm? Do you deliver meals, do you invite others to eat with you? If we are to love our neighbors as ourselves, I daresay what we often describe as being neighborly, is in fact being Christian.  So before you tell yourself you cannot make an impact remember what Jesus accomplished in just 3.5 miles. 

Hide it under a bushel?No!

In yesterday’s sermon I shared some of the story of Corrie ten Boom, a watchmaker living in Holland during the German Occupation of WWII.  Corrie and her family were an instrumental part of the Dutch Underground which successfully spirited thousands of Jewish people to safety.  Eventually, she and her family were arrested.  Her father and sister died while they were imprisoned.   I used Corrie’s story as an example of our identity as Christians to be salt of the earth and light of the world.  After worship several folks said, “You didn’t finish the story!  What happened to Corrie ten Boom?” 

After being held at a political camp called Scheveningen, she and her sister, Betsie, were relocated with many others to Ravensbrück. It was there that Betsie died from illness.  Before her death, Betsie and Corrie had ministered to many of the women in their barracks. Betsie had a vision that after the war she and Corrie would open a home for those deeply wounded from the war—for Betsie this included the soldiers and camp staff who had committed all the terrible atrocities of the Holocaust.  She envisioned a mansion with large windows, a grand staircase, and sprawling grounds where those living there could tend the gardens.   Just twelve days after Betsie’s death, just before Christmas in 1944, Corrie was released from Ravensbrück.  As it turns out, ten Boom’s release was a clerical error; all the other prisoners of her age group were sent to the gas chambers the following week.  

Corrie made her way back home and began telling people what she and Betsie had learned, particularly about God during their imprisonment. She described Betsie’s vision for a home in Holland where people could recuperate.   After one such talk, Corrie was approached by Mrs. Bierens de Haan who lived in a wealthy neighborhood in Corrie’s hometown of Haarlem.  She was invited to visit the woman’s large estate, with a 56-room mansion that was just as Betsie had described.  This became a place of refuge for those who returned to Holland and needed a safe place to heal from their trauma.  A few years later, Corrie returned to Germany.  One day a relief organization worker came up to her to ask her for help with a rehabilitation home in Germany. The gentleman told her that they already had a place where it could begin, a former concentration camp at Darmstadt. As Corrie walked through the camp, she no longer saw misery or fear but a place that, once again, Betsie had described—a place with window boxes and lots of brightly colored paint and a garden with flowers coming up in the spring.  The camp opened in the spring of 1946. 

Corrie ten Boom died on April 15, 1983—her 91st birthday, after dedicating her entire life to spreading the truth of God’s love.

Corrie’s story is an incredible testament to God’s continued movement in the world.  Corrie and her family were guided by God’s will and did not lose sight of their faith even in the darkest of times.  After her release, she could have returned to her little home and reopened her family watch shop…but God had other plans for her.  Corrie continued to minister to humanities most traumatized and broken individuals.  She modeled forgiveness and witnessed to God’s grace for all people.  

You can read Corrie’s story in her book, A Hiding Place (we have a copy in the church library). 

Salt & Sunlight

Salt & Sunlight

Salty tears-

laughter ringing in ears.

Sunlight fades to twilight-

 first twinkles wink.

It’s her, I think.

LTM

11/18/24

Matt 5:13-16 Salt and Light

‘You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.

‘You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

What Time is It?

What Time Is It?

“Mom, what time is it,” my son asks from his nest on the couch.  A valid question since its pitch dark out at 6pm.  I’ve noticed over the last few weeks it’s been harder for him to leap out of bed at the crack of dawn, sleeping much longer into the morning on the weekends.  It’s funny that I prayed for this day to come, but now that it’s here I was caught by surprise…is it normal for a ten-year-old to do this? I’m assured by friends that it is.  But his question brought deeper answers to the surface than just what time is shown on the clock.

What time is it?

Time to sow the seeds of reconciliation rather than animosity.

What time is it?

Time to sow peace instead of discord.

What time is it?

Time to modify swords into plough shares, spears into pruning hooks.

What time is it?

Time to study shalom instead of combat.

What time is it?

Time to stop throwing sticks and stones.

What time is it?

Time to see our neighbors as ourselves, human beings with the same blood in their veins.

What time is it?

To trek up the mountain, stop talking, and listen to God.

What time is it?

Time to witness to the intrinsic goodness of people, because God’s Spirit is indwelling.

What time is it?

Time to laugh, time to heal, time to love.

Ephesians 3:1-8, Isaiah 2: 1-4, Matthew 22:34-40, Romans 8:1-9

Come Spirit, Hover

Come into our presence, Holy God.

Let your Spirit,

that which hovered over the deep

hover over our ballot boxes

to bring a breath of peace.

Keep our people safe, Almighty,

as we exercise our freedoms.

Turn swords into ploughshares,

spears into pruning hooks,

let us not study war, anymore.

You, O Lord

Our Alpha and Omega,

may your grace be at the forefront

of our hearts and minds.

That our rights would align

With your call to do justice,

love kindness and walk humbly with you. 

Amen.

LTM 11/4/24

Story of my life

I spoke briefly in my sermon Sunday morning about musician Liam Payne, who recently lost his life due to substance abuse. When my son was little he loved the group, One Direction, in which Liam was a member. After his Grams introduced the music to him, I became familiar with the pop group and many of their songs as we played them in the car and had dance parties in the living room. My favorite song has always been, “Story Of My Life” a hauntingly beautiful song, all the more poignant now after Liam’s passing. A few years ago I found a cover rendition by The Piano Guys. I am going to link that here, along with a link for the original and lyrics if you have interest.

“Story Of My Life” The Piano Guys https://youtu.be/yET4p-r2TI8?si=alMIpj2g-AhgE2d8

“Story Of My Life” One Direction https://youtu.be/PJYpZ4hkXJE?si=Bfu_ypJixcaSpn4o

Pastor Appreciation Month Part II

I have been fortunate to work with and learn from amazing colleagues in ministry.  I attended seminary with some of my generation’s best and brightest pastors and educators.  They are passionate and creative individuals who are steeped in Theology and Biblical studies. They work hard to fuse tradition and innovation.  They value intergenerational ministry.   It is a daunting time to be in the pastorate.  We came out of seminary being told there were more pastors seeking calls than there were churches available.  I wonder if that narrative has flipped…seems to me I hear of a lot of churches (mostly small) that are seeking a pastor.  We were also sent out into a world in which the influence of the church on society was waning and that has only intensified over time.  For those of us who entered the ministry in our twenties, there was/is a lot of pressure to attract young people and families to the church.  What many folks don’t understand is that by nature of our passion and commitment to the church, we often speak the language of the generations that have preceded us far better than we connect with our generational peers.  Since covid, more than ever, we’ve had to adapt to digital ministry.  In some ways this is a blessing and way to have a broader reach. In other ways, it is challenging as we navigate serving with one foot in the tangible, face-to-face, pew & steeple world; and another foot in the world of video editing, online worship, and social media ministry where the temptation to be an influencer comes at the detriment of authenticity.  I believe pastors experience burnout at far greater rates than a few decades ago as we feel a great pressure to keep the church relevant and keep the doors open.  Pastors are often expected to visit parishioners frequently, write sermons that are engaging and deliver them with gusto every Sunday, teach a class or bible study, serve on multiple denominational or community boards and committees, maintain connections with other pastors, seek continuing education, and be at the church every time the doors open.  Occasionally, ministers are also the sexton, the plumber, the party planner, the idea generator, and the face of the church. But we only work on Sundays! 😉

Many of my friends are overworked and underpaid…and they rarely complain.  Many of my peers work 50 or 60 hours a week and will go for months or even a year at a time without taking a vacation.  I know of female peers who have more credentials and experience than her male counterparts and yet been passed over for raises and Head of Staff positions.  I know single male ministers who are expected to be available at all hours because they don’t have “the excuse” of a family to go home to. And if we are blessed to be married and perhaps have children, our families live in fishbowls.  It is not the same as it once was where the pastor’s wife was expected to also play piano or host dinners frequently...but there is still often an expectation that spouses and children will be very involved in the life of the church (which as you know is not the case for my spouse).  So, in this moment, I want to say thank you.  I want to say thank you to the congregations that have loved me so well in my 14 years since ordination.  My family has been embraced, loved, and cared for by so many wonderful people in the church.  I’ve been honored to officiate weddings, preside over tables, baptize children, and witness to the resurrection of amazing individuals. Not many people can say they are invited into the most vulnerable of life’s moments to celebrate joys but also to sit in sorrow.  I’ve also been hugged and high-fived by many a child and teen.  And I wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

I believe God called me to New Providence so that I might have the space to breathe again.  To slow down and see the beauty of God’s creation in both nature and community.  I believe God knew our family needed the kind of peace and love that is nurtured here.  It is not lost on me that my family and I are well cared for financially by the church and given a lovely home in which to dwell.  And we are surrounded by the best neighbors we could ask for.  I feel that I am appreciated as a person with her own interests and needs and encouraged to spend time, not only doing what I enjoy, but putting my family and my health first.  You’ve also been wonderful to our son and given him a home where he feels safe and loved.  It is sad to say that not every pastor or pastor’s family has felt that way.  I am filled with gratitude for the countless ways you have opened your hearts to us over the last four years.  It has been a great blessing; you have been and continue to be a great blessing to me.  I am only the pastor that I am because of the congregation and community that you are. 

With Love,

Loren

Pastor Appreciation Month

Since October is Pastor Appreciation Month, I thought I would spend just a few moments in gratitude, reflecting on a few of the ministers who have greatly influenced my life.  God could not have given me better ministers to shepherd me through adolescence than the ones I grew up with at Bedford Presbyterian Church. 

Joseph Gaston was our Pastor/Head of Staff. Joseph calls himself the “farm boy pastor” and that fits him just about perfectly.  With his South Carolina drawl he taught me from an early age the importance of humor and laughter from the pulpit and in ministry.  He also taught me the vital role of presence in difficult moments.  He and his wife Karen woke up and drove to Roanoke in the middle of the night to sit with my family after my parents’ car accident.  A lot of that night is a blur, but their solid strength remains crystal clear. 

Bill Buchanan was our Associate Pastor, and he oversaw our youth ministry program. Bill taught me that you’re never too young to use your gifts to serve the Lord.  He had an incredible way of recognizing each person’s gifts and finding a way for them to use it at church. He baptized me, introduced me to Montreat, and trusted me with his children.  He taught me that the way you walk in your daily life is your witness to Jesus. And ministry is just about loving people and meeting them where they are.

Bill’s wife Aimee was…well…incredible. That word doesn’t even do her justice.  She invited me to a girl’s teen bible study in her home (which they opened often to us) and the personal note is what made me feel welcome.  Aimee sought justice for all people, and she wasn’t afraid to be in the trenches with them.  In church, she and Bill encouraged creativity and gave us space to lead worship.  Even when she wasn’t on staff at our church, she was often in various leadership roles.  And she wasn’t afraid to be in the pulpit with a Bible in one hand, and one of her children on her hip.  Illuminating that it is in fact possible to be both pastor and mother.

Kevin Brunk came to BPC after Bill and Aimee moved to Asheville, he was the Associate Pastor while I was in college.  Kevin had a very unique youth group which at its core was all boys with maybe one or two girls (who held their own with the best of them). I remember a lock-in where I served as a chaperone, and he stayed up half the night playing video games with them.  Kevin was humble and loving in every encounter.  He could be silly and turn serious on a dime, which is what those boys needed. This served me well when I was involved in youth ministry in Richmond. I never understood when I was young and Kevin told me after Sunday worship he went home and crashed, he was just so drained after Sunday worship.  Now, I get it.  Sorry, I doubted you, Kevin!

And I must tell you about Brenda Halbrooks.  Brenda was the pastor at Three Chopt Presbyterian in Richmond where I served during seminary.  Brenda was the first pastor I had watched preaching in a church setting without a manuscript.  What on earth!?  She would write little sermon points on her fingers.  Brenda also led with humor, and once called my office in Appomattox shortly after I arrived pretending to be asking for outrageous financial assistance. Unfortunately for her, I knew the number on the caller ID. Brenda was a steady voice of guidance to the church in those years. I don’t remember ever seeing her feathers ruffled. She was always calm and not afraid to say, ‘let’s revisit this later.’  Brenda was the same pastor whether she was participating in the Women’s Bible Study, moderating a session meeting, or chaperoning teenagers on a retreat.  She loved us well.

I would be remiss not to mention my father-in-law Bass Mitchell in this list. Michael likes to remind me how thankful he is that his dad now has someone with whom he can share his craft. The most important thing I’ve learned from “Papa Bass” is the power of simple, authentic delivery—whether that be in sermons or pastoral interactions. People don’t need flowery words, and they don’t need perfection, they just need to see your honesty and your integrity. The Bass that might hold your hand as you take your last breath is the same Bass that gives kids high fives as he walks down the aisle before church. The same Bass who now teaches inmates classes to get their GED in his “retirement.”

Without these individuals (and many others) I would not be where I am today.  I wouldn’t have this same appreciation for intergenerational or rural ministry.  I wouldn’t know the power of self-deprecating humor to the same extent. I might not have witnessed pastors striving to create healthy patterns and sabbath.  It might not have occurred to me to let kids be kids in the pews or allow teenagers to have a voice in all aspects of church life.  I may not have recognized that the church isn’t the walls, it’s the people. I wouldn’t have believed “church” can look like serving popsicles to the homeless on hot days and playing board games with veterans.  And I probably wouldn’t have been brave enough to write skits for Youth Sunday sermons or read my poetry on the Montreat auditorium stage in front of a thousand peers.  It is quite possible that I would never have considered ministry at all.  God is, indeed, good.

Let Love Be Genuine

 “Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.”

—Romans 12:9-13

We had a bit of a wild day at NP yesterday, did we not?  As I look back over our time together as a congregation on Sunday what stands out to me is our deep commitment to one another and the gospel message.  I was so excited to have my friends visiting from London. They wanted to come worship with us, and I was delighted because I knew that you all would be so warm and welcoming of them.  So many folks were able to chat with them after the service and show them around the church.  You extended hospitality to strangers, and I know that was not just because they were my friends, but because you genuinely strive to be a people of love.  Thank you for simply being you.

I can’t tell you how special it is to have our youngest disciples feel safe enough to run to me (or any of us) when they first arrive at church for conversations and hugs. Over the last few weeks I have recognized your patience and encouragement of our children as they help us begin worship by setting the table, bible, and baptismal font. It is in no way a perfect, polished moment in the service, but that’s what makes it special, because it is genuine—and imperfect—just like us.

As I sit “up front” I often glimpse little moments among the congregation that other folks can’t see.  The choir members understand this best I am sure, as they get a great view of the pews.  I witnessed a great moment yesterday that reminded me of the “it takes a village” saying.  A few kids were being a little bit mischievous in the pews and I witnessed Linda Jean’s principal face in action telling them to behave.  Those kids got “the look” and straightened right up! It gave me quite the chuckle. 

And at the end of service, when one of our littles had been injured upstairs, all the parents rushed into action, calling the paramedics immediately (just in case) and lending quiet support to each other, and comforting all the children who were shaken up by the incident.  Meanwhile, other folks stuck around waiting to find out what happened and be a loving and reassuring presence.  I am pleased to say all is well and our little gal is just fine! But it is in these times that we remember well just how genuinely and deeply we are bound together by the Spirit.  For all the ways NP shows compassion, generosity, humility, and mutual affection, I am so grateful.  I know you are too. 

Forged In Fire

Little did they know

When in desert pillar blazed

They’d be forged in fire.

Little did they know

When flames danced overhead

They’d be forged in fire. 

Little did they know

As brick foundations baked

They’d be forged in fire.

Little did we know

The landscape would change.

And we’d be forged in fire.

Little did we know

Churches would be on the pyre

And we’d be forged in fire.

Stir the embers

Fan the flame

We remain.

LTM  9/22/24

The Lord went in front of them in a pillar of cloud by day, to lead them along the way, and in a pillar of fire by night, to give them light, so that they might travel by day and by night. -Exodus 13:21

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them.—Acts 2:1-3

In this you rejoice, even if now for a little while you have had to suffer various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith—being more precious than gold that, though perishable, is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.-1 Peter 1:6-9

The Bench

The front porch is my spot.  From April through October if the weather is fair that is where you will find me.  While I enjoy watching the seasons changing, I am saddened when the weather turns cold, and I must pack away my cushions until Spring. 

My bench on the porch is particularly special to me.  I asked my dad to fashion it for me out of the head and foot boards of my grandparent’s bedframe.  For the seat he used old pews that were being discarded from my home church.  The shelf beneath the seat holds all manner of sticks and stones. I often sit and pray our child who is often climbing the dogwoods or flying down the hill on his bike won’t break any bones.  I have to wonder how many prayers my grandmother lift did when she laid her head down at night. And how many prayers were spoken and liturgy recited from the very pew where I sit.

I love to lounge there like a cat soaking in the sun.  Often, Sirius Black joins me in the late afternoon, and we nap together lulled by the breeze.  We often have hummingbirds buzzing by and butterflies landing at our feet. We watch the flowers bloom and leaves change while the deer pick their way across the yard.  Books get read, poems get written, homework gets done, all on my sweet little bench.

Do you have a spot like mine?  Why is it special to you? What kinds of memories do you make there?

September

Summer’s end

Endless breeze

Painted sky

Tinted leaves

Eager songs

Migration brings

Exquisite wings

Boundless fields

Resilient yields

LTM 9/8/24

Helping people

When our son Kemper was three or four years old, we went to the beach with Michael’s parents and got to spend time with the extended family living in the area. One day we went out on a boat with a whole passel of cousins spanning several generations. The young cousins were talking about what they wanted to be when they grow up with typical answers such as, “a popstar, an actress, and a billionaire with lots of big trucks.”  Then they posed the question to Kemper, who said, “I want to help people.”   As you can imagine, my momma’s heart was full to bursting to hear my baby respond with something so innocent and kind. Clearly the episodes of Paw Patrol & Daniel Tiger were doing their jobs!As he has aged, Kemper’s response to the question has changed several times to include a scientist, and even a pastor (because, according to him, it looks easy). But I believe that thread of doing something that helps other people is still in his heart. Sometimes we believe to ‘help people’ we have to do something extravagant or widescale.  This type of thinking limits us as we become overwhelmed by the thought of meeting the dire needs of our world.As we move into fall and then roll into the holiday season, we will have multiple opportunities at NP to be God’s instruments in helping people in meaningful ways. We’ll collect items for Kingsway & Valley Mission.  We’ll fill shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child.  We’ll deliver gifts to our shut-ins and have our kids mail cards to the troops.  I want to remind us that these small gestures can make a big impact in our community.  So can mailing a card or making a phone call to let folks know you are praying for them. Dropping off a meal for someone who’s going through a tough time when you have leftovers counts as well.  So does picking up trash on your morning walk. So, this is just a small reminder that you are in fact helping each other in a hundred little ways already, and these efforts are what strengthens the community and reflects the light of Christ.  Let’s all consider it our jobs to ‘help people.’

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She was the best of us

Pure as a freshwater pearl.

She was the clasp

That held our strand together.

I hear her laugh echo

On the beat of a butterfly’s wings.

Sometimes I come up here

To be alone.

Hay bales hang like a necklace

On the hillside.

Silent graves remind me

Not to waste away while I’m alive.

LTM

8/18/24