Orange Cords

Orange Cords

When I was in high school back in the 60’s, I got into clothes. I was tired of lined jeans and flannel shirts. The crowd I was hanging around started dressing nice: white long sleeve shirts, bell-bottom pants and white suede shoes. I think Elvis had something to do with setting our dress code. The girls started taking notice of my handsome appearance.

That Christmas I had only one wish. I wanted a pair of orange corduroy pants that I saw advertised in a department store. I could envision myself strutting down the school halls in my orange cords with everybody turning their heads wondering who was that dapperly dressed guy. In my dreams!

I started hinting to my parents about the only thing I wanted for Christmas, those orange cords. Being one of a number of siblings, I had to think of creative ways to make sure mom heard what was going to be the most important gift this Christmas. I was positive that she got the message and had my gift already bought, wrapped and under the tree.

I think everybody at some point in their life is disappointed when they unwrap a Christmas gift. I can't put into words how disappointed I was when the orange cords weren’t there. I couldn't believe it. Didn't mom hear me? I only asked for one thing and it wasn't even that expensive. I was so upset I don't even remember what present I did get.

I never got to wear orange corduroys. Of all the Christmas’ I have enjoyed, I still remember a gift desired but not received. Reflecting back on that disappointment, I see that life has a lot more to offer than an unfulfilled desire. I also have learned that often there is more joy in giving than receiving. I embrace what the Bible says: “God loves it when the giver delights in the giving.”

 Merry Christmas and a Blessed New Year.

Loading Room

Loading Room

If you are a Montanan or a gun enthusiast, you already know about a loading room. For those who are neither, a loading room is a designated area where you keep you guns, ammo and reloading equipment. It is the equivalent of a man cave. On Saturday afternoons in the cold of winter, you will find diehard rednecks there reloading ammo for next year’s hunting season.

It was a cold February Saturday afternoon when I knocked at the door of Tom’s loading room. I knew he would be there and I was in desperate need of blowing off some steam. I came in, slammed the door and threw my keys on bench. In no uncertain terms I told Tom I was done preaching, parenting and being a husband. I told him I was taking the next Amtrak train out of town and not telling anyone where I was going. I had it!

Tom, a man who was married for a long time and raised a family, didn't skip a beat. He just kept reloading while I kept venting. Finally, when I paused to take a deep breath, he told me to sit down and have a beer. Apparently there was no rush since the train wasn't due in town for a couple of hours.

No sooner had I taken a couple of swings from my Bud Light when Ed, my other friend, showed up. Sensing the seriousness of the situation he closed the door and sat down. Now I had an audience for my frustrations. You see, both Tom and Ed, were elders in church I was pastoring. They weren't about to let me get on that train.

What followed was the adult version of a trip to the woodshed. They let me have it. They spared no words to inform me that the pity party was unacceptable. They understood the pressures I was under but were unwilling to let me wallow in self-pity. Several hours later, I left the loading room, keys in hand, in better shape than when I came. The problems were not solved but I knew these guys had my back.

I have never forgotten that Saturday afternoon and the counsel given me. I shutter to think where I would be without the wise words of those men. The Bible says: “Faithful are the wounds of a friend who corrects out of love and concern…. As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens and influences another through discussion.”

NRA

NRA

Nope! Not the National Rifle Association. I am a member of that organization. I own guns and have a concealed weapons permit. I enjoy my 2^nd Amendment right to bear arms. If you ever visit our church you will be quite safe because a number of congregants are packing.

The NRA I want to talk about is Not Right Always. I have lived long enough to know that even though I would like to be right, many times I am not. Although thinking I am right has a nice feel to it, I have learned the hard way to think before I speak. On occasion I have had to rise above my strong convictions and admit that I was wrong.

My need to be right has more to do with perspective than reality. I don't always get the facts straight before I speak. That has led to egg on my face followed by apologies. My fact checker runs far behind my vocal skills. Consequently, humble pie is a frequent meal.

By adding a short suffix onto “right” you get “righteous.” Interestingly enough, the derivative of this compound word carries the meaning of right wiseness. Wisdom, a rare commodity in the public forum these days, takes into account not only truth but also relationships. I am embarrassed to admit the number of arguments with my wife that I felt I won based on the truth, at least as I understood it, did damage to our relationship. Truth without wisdom erodes relationships.

We are living in a culture where people not only have an opinion but have the freedom to express it. It’s when there is disagreement that relationships can start breaking down. Have we lost the art of agreeing to disagree without tearing the fabric of relationships? Are healthy relationships more important than my need to be right? I thought that was what civil discourse was all about.

A reminder from the Bible: “Grow a wise heart, you'll do yourself a favor. Keep a clear head, you'll find a good life.”

Crèches

Crèches

Judy and I went Christmas shopping at a gift store here in Bozeman. As we looked at the beautiful display of gifts, Judy mentioned that there were no nativity sets. In past years, at the same store, you could find at least half dozen different ones. This year there were none.

What's happening to Christmas? It comes at no surprise that retail sales have overshadowed the baby in a manger. It is now illegal in many places to display any Christian symbols on public property. Here in Bozeman a beautiful Ten Commandments monument which was prominently displayed on Main Street was removed and later relegated to an obscure corner in a community organization park.

As Christians, it is another reminder that we have to come to terms with the fact that our culture has turned a corner. No longer is the Bethlehem story heralded in the market place. We are left with the cold reality that our world has little interest in a Savior who has come to heal our hurts and fears. Without the hope that the Christ Child brings, we are left with a plastic tree laden with ornaments, colored lights, and tinsel. How sad!

What shall we do? This past week I saw a post on Facebook that challenged me. The title: Want To Keep Christ In Christmas? “Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, forgive the guilty, welcome the unwanted, care for the ill, love your enemies, and do unto others as you would have done unto you.”

It's not religious ornamentation that defines Christmas. It's Christians who are willing to put feet to their convictions and do what Jesus does. We maybe losing public appeal but there is growing opportunity to show our stuff. Into the darkness have come many shining lights: us!

Podatus

Podatus

While Elvis, Beach Boys and Beatles were the craze of the music world, I was in seminary learning Gregorian Chant. My wife is amazed when I don't recognize music from the 60’ and 70’s. I keep telling people that during those years I was locked up in a religious institution and forbidden to listen to radio or TV. My music world was an all male choir singing medieval psalmody.

The seminary curriculum consisted of a steady diet of Aristotelian philosophy, Thomastic theology and Church history. If that didn't mess with your brain, we had a weekly gathering in the Aula Maxima for music lessons. Our text was the Liber Usualis, the official Gregorian Chant book that weighed about three pounds. Here we learned to sing music of the Middle Ages.

Gregorian chant is an acquired taste. Although beautiful in a haunting kind of way, it is a far cry from today’s music. Chant is almost always sung without instrumentation. The singers are usually male (female in a convent). The notation and rhythm are unique. The musical notes are exotic: podatus, podatus subpunctus, virga, climacus and quilisma to name a few.

By now you may be asking why I am writing about this stuff. Well, I am not sure except to say that of all my seminary training the words that stand out in my mind  are “podatus subpunctus.” You know how you get a tune in your head and can't get rid of it. Well, fifty years of this phrase imbedded in my brain is ready for release.

Whatever the music style, the Bible encourages us to sing unto the Lord: “ Sing a new song to the Lord! Sing to the Lord, all the world! Sing to the Lord and praise him! Proclaim everyday the good news that He has saved us.”

Alleluia!

Bills

Bills

Ever had more bills at the end of the month than money? I'm sure I am not the only one who found themselves in the red. Having raised a family on a pastor’s salary involved not only aggressive penny pinching but on occasional miracle or two. Mortgage payments, car payments, groceries, doctor and dentist bills are but a few in a long list of monthly bills. I am not complaining just observing the reality of the bills.

What brought this to mind was a little blurb I read on Facebook. Asking the question: “What’s you favorite childhood memory?” The response was: “Not paying bills.” I remembered that there was a time in my life when I didn't have to worry about those monthly payments. Financial responsibility must be a sign of maturity.

Some years ago I preached a sermon entitled “The Blessings of Debt.” Usually I don't get much feedback on my sermons. That Sunday I got a lot of feedback; most of it negative. I was told that being a Christian I had the responsibility to stay out of debt “owing no man.” Although I agree that debt is to be avoided, most people find themselves at one time or another in debt. The point of my teaching was to encourage debtors that God doesn't hold that against them and that He has some life lessons to teach while making the payments.

My father was a font of practical wisdom. As I matured, I found myself drawing from his wisdom. On one occasion I approached him for financial advice. The church I was pastoring was behind in paying my salary and there wasn't much left in my bank account. In addition to floating me a short-term loan, he said: “If you have money problems, you really don't have a problem. When there is blood on the floor that's when you have a problem.” Those were wise words that gave me a healthy perspective.

Here's what Jesus says about money worries: “What I'm trying to do here is to get you to relax, not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving. Steep your life in God reality, God initiative, God provisions. Don't worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.”

Good advise. I haven't missed a meal yet!

Steadfast

Steadfast

The world I live in today is not the world of my youth. Technology has not only quickened the pace of change, it has redefined change itself. Lest I be criticized for being an old foggy who yearns for the past, let me reassure you that I relish almost all of what modern technology has created. The horizon of my creature comforts is greatly expanded.

The problem I am faced with is the realization of my addiction to change. I find myself less and less satisfied with what I have and an increasing craving for the new. Whether it is my hunger for a new cell phone, computer, TV, or truck, it's the new that's got me hooked. I think I need some old fashioned counseling.

Then I come across this word “steadfast.” I don’t hear it in everyday conversation. If fact the only place I find it is in the Bible. I looked it up in the dictionary. It means fixed firmly in place, immovable, not subject to change. This word comes from an old English word meaning “fixed fast.” What a contrast to the world of change I live in.

Whenever I find myself teetering between the infatuation with all the new stuff our world has to offer and the need for stability in my life, I am reminded of these words from the Bible: “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever. So do not be attracted by strange, new ideas.”

Here’s a song we sing at church that keeps me grounded in the reality of the Father’s love. “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning, new every morning. Great is your faithfulness O Lord. Great is your faithfulness.”

Amen!

Wind

Wind

I awoke to the windows rattling. Even without my hearing aids, I could hear the wind roaring and shaking everything it touched. Strong winds are not uncommon where I live. Blowing down the east slope of the Rockies and across the valley floor, there isn't much to stop this force of nature. One advantage of this wind is that it blew all the fallen leaves into the neighbor’s yard.

Later that day, I bundled up and took the dog for a walk. Leaning into the wind, it took all I had to stand upright and move forward. Having finished our stroll around the neighborhood, I was exhausted and the dog was elated. The energy it took to buck that wind was almost too much. I enjoy fresh air at a lower velocity.

There have been times in my life when I have felt strong winds of adversity. Life

can be unpredictable and in need of a firm foundation upon which to stand. We live in a time that shuns such a foundation, choosing to build upon the shifting sands of what seems right for today. When struggles come and the ground begins to move, the integrity of our choices is revealed.

I am reminded of the story Jesus told about two builders. One built on sand and the other on solid rock. When the storm came, only one house survived, the one built on solid rock. A good reminder of how we are to build our lives. When the winds of adversity come, our foundation will be tested.

A song we sing at church says it well: “On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground in sinking sand. All other ground is sinking sand.”

As for the wind, it is God’s breath refreshing the earth. Bring it on!

Growing Big People

Growing Big People

Sitting in a meeting recently with a group of young men who were leaders in their home churches, I was impressed that there is a next generation that is willing to take seriously the words of Jesus “to go forth and make disciples of all nations.” In our network of churches we have been encouraging young people to step up into positions of leadership. Not an easy task these days.

The focus of our discussion that day was servanthood. From a practical standpoint, what does it mean to lay down your life to serve the Lord? As different ones shared their life stories, it became apparent that we had an exceptional group of people who were willing to sacrifice much to follow Jesus. There was honest, from the heart, testimonies of God working in their lives.

Toward the end of this sharing time, one person made a statement that really caught my attention. I am not even sure of the context in which it was said. All I heard were these words: “We are not in the business of growing big churches; we are in the business of growing big people.” Wow! I had never heard it said that way before. It made me think.

Interestingly enough, the derivative of the word “big” in Webster’s Dictionary comes from an archaic Scandinavian source meaning “important man.” One who is  imposing, generous, of great importance, outstandingly worthy. All of these adjectives reflect the character qualities of men and women who give  themselves to the service of Jesus.

No one in that meeting was promoting themselves as greater than the others. What was obvious was a heart attitude focused on a desire to serve the Lord. With Jesus there is no room for building my own kingdom, but only laying down my life to serve Him.

 I am reminded of these words from the Old Testament book of Proverbs: “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens and influence another through discussion.”

For me, that was a meeting worth attending!

Babies Galore

Babies Galore

I confess that babies are not my thing. It's not that I don't like them. How can anybody not like newborn babies. It's just that I don't ooh and awe at the thought of little ones whose needs are many. I prefer them when they can walk, talk and care for themselves. Sorry! It must be some kind of guy thing.

Recently two families in our church announced that they are expecting another child. In a congregation our size such an announcement gets people excited especially all the moms and grandmas. Lots of talk about when is your due date, do you want a boy or a girl, maybe even twins. We are growing our fellowship the old fashioned way, one baby at a time.

Several days after this announcement, I received a text from my oldest son who lives in Portland, Oregon telling me that they are expecting a baby. Well that really got my attention. I figured that they were a one-child family and no more grandchildren from them. Judy and I could hardly contain ourselves. We were going to be grandparents again.

We were just recovering from that surprise when we got a Face Time call from our daughter and her husband who live in Nashville, Tennessee announcing that they are pregnant. We were speechless, thinking that they were not going to have any children. Once we got over the shock, we were elated that we were going to be grandparents twice more. It doesn't get much better than that.

The Bible has a lot to say about children. Here are two of my favorites: “Don't you see that children are God’s best gift? The fruit of the womb his generous legacy? Like a warrior’s fistful of arrows are the children of a vigorous youth. Oh, how blessed are you parents, with your quiver full of children.” And “Old people are distinguished by grandchildren; children take pride in their parents.”

If all goes well, we will be the proud grandparents of six grandchildren unless, of course, someone has twins! I have to confess I am more than excited; I am ecstatic about be a grandfather.

Happy Brain

Happy Brain

On passing through the kitchen one morning, I overheard a conversation that my wife, Judy, was having with our three-year-old grandson, Ben. She was questioning Ben about body parts: legs, arms, fingers, eyes, and ears. He's a smart kid so he had all the right answers. When Judy pointed to Ben’s head, he answered “happy brain.” That stopped me in my tracks.

I've always associated “happy” with a different body part, the heart, never the brain. I couldn't get this idea of a happy brain out of my head. I wondered whatever made a three year old make the connection between happy and brain. Later I went back and asked Ben and Judy what they meant about this happy brain business. They looked at me as if something was wrong with me.

The more I thought about this the more curious I got. I got my dictionary out and looked up the definition of happy: “feeling pleasure or enjoyment because of your life; being content and not needing more.” I guess that when you are three and all your needs are being met, your brain can get stuck on happy. My brain is usually on overload with life issues that don't have much room for happy.

My problem is that I can't shake the thought that my brain can be happy. Being the kind of person who is preoccupied with getting all his ducks lined up and keeping them that way, there is not a lot of room left room for happy in my brain. Could it be that my brain needs to get a little closer to where my heart is? Maybe Ben is onto something.

Jesus has something to say about this: “I’m telling you, once and for all, that unless you return to square one and start over like children, you're not even going to get a look at the kingdom, let alone get in. Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child, will rank high in God’s kingdom.”

I purpose to let my heart leak into my brain!

Veritas Caput

Veritas Caput

Judy and I recently returned from a vacation on the Mississippi River with friends. My brother, a veteran of river navigation, made all the arrangements and rented a sixty-foot houseboat. By the time we arrived, thunderstorms had raised the river five feet. With the high water and cool, windy weather we had to make daily adjustments to our schedule.

 Although this was my third houseboat trip, I still had much to learn about the ways of the river. The challenge of locks and dams, ever changing currents, channel markers and river barges made for “on the job” training for this lover of the mountains. The autumn colors, soaring bald eagles and quaint river towns were a smorgasbord for the eyes.

I learned some facts about this river. It is the fourth longest river in the world. Much of our history is connected to this “backbone of America.” Many explorers travelled these waters trapping beavers, encountering Native American tribes and searching for the river’s source. After several explorations, Henry Schoolcraft found the headwaters in what is now north-central Minnesota. He gave it the name ITASCA by combining parts of two Latin words “ver/itas ca/put” translated “true head.”

To really know the nature of things, it is important to discover their source. Just like the Mississippi, which provides life-giving water to much of our country, it is crucial to know the source of our own life. Here's what the Bible has to say about that: “Jesus says: ‘I am the Road, also the Truth, also the Life. No one gets to the Father apart from me. If you really knew me, you would know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him. You've even seen him.’

Do you know the source of Life?

Apathy

Apathy

As an observer of human nature, I am interested in how people, including myself, behave. As a pastor, I am personally involved in people's lives at the junctures of greatest joy and deepest tragedy. Although I do not claim to be an expert on the subject, I have become an astute student. I don't believe there is a more interesting pastime than that of people watching. I am not a voyeur of human behavior but I am interested in how we act in different situations.

Apathy ranks high on my list of human emotions that reveals the worst in us. When I see people not caring about the needs of others simply because it does not directly affect them, I cringe. In a culture where things hold more value than relationships, suffering increases. When the focus becomes solely me and mine without sensitivity to others, we find ourselves falling into a mire of apathy.

The words APATHY is derived from a Greek word which means “without feeling or emotion.” It carries the connotation of passivity, lack of interest, indifference and numbness to life. Apathy is an emotional cancer that left unchecked turns human beings into the walking dead.

I don't believe that God made us that way. He hard wired us to care not only for ourselves but others as well. I see this often among Christians who profess one thing with their lips but when push comes to shove, we are not much different from the rest of the world. Unfortunately, I find this to be true in my own life.

Here are a few words of encouragement from the Bible to help dispel our apathy.

“But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard; things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with a thing, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people.” Amen!

Hundred Mark

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  One Hundred Mark

I never realized that when I started writing the Mangy Moose blog that it would reach one hundred posts. I started blogging as a way to get people off my back that wanted me to write a book. I have several friends who have gone through the difficult and time consuming process of bringing a book to publication. Although I admire those who write books, I have no desire to do so; thus my blog.

At first I purposed to share stories from my life that readers might find interesting if not entertaining. Having shared the story of my life journey from growing up in a large family to studying for the priesthood to serving in various church denominations, I have written some blogs that are my personal views of church life as a pastor and as an observer of life in general.

My greatest and most loyal readers are my family: my siblings and my children. They regularly comment pro and con to what I have to share. Friends from the past as well as those who have earned the right to speak into my life keep me an honest writer of blogs. I appreciate all who read the Monday morning Mangy Moose.

The most amazing thing about blogs is that once they are published on the Internet they go worldwide. I have an app that logs the number of daily hits I get. It also tells me where hits come from. I am shocked that people from the United Kingdom, Australia, Finland, Sweden, France, Morocco, Spain, Indonesia, Canada, Germany, Poland, and God knows where read my blog. I hope I am not starting a worldwide conspiracy!

I am reminded of a Bible passage that talks about writing things down. Although the context of these verses pertains to an Old Testament prophesy, I paraphrase it because I am reminded to write it not just think about it. “Write what you see, write it out in big box letters so that it can be read on the run. This vision message is a witness pointing to what's coming. It aches for the coming; it can hardly wait! And it doesn't lie. If it seems slow in coming, wait. It's on the way. It will come at the right time.”

People Who Need People

People Who Need People

It was 1964 when Barbara Streisand sang the hit song People Who Need People as part of the Broadway play Funny Girl. The first verse goes like this: “People who need people are the luckiest people in the world. We're children needing other children, and yet letting a grown-up pride hide all the need inside; acting more like children than children.”

As I listened to the news last week, I heard Barbara make a public statement that if Donald Trump was elected President, she would move to Australia or Canada. Several days later I heard TV personality Sean Hannity comment that he would personally buy Barbara and her liberal friends a one way ticket out of the country. I am not sure who is more childish.

American politics has taken a turn for the worse this election year. Not only have the candidates themselves taken the lower road of personal slurs and character assassinations but the public media has jumped into the mud fight as well. Our politics has always had a perchance for the unseemly. You would think that with all the national and international issues we are facing the level of common discourse would be of a higher quality.

The reason I was reminded of Barbara’s song is that there is truth in those words that people who need people are the luckiest people. Those things that separate people are the very issues that become the foundation for prejudice, hatred, and civil discord. I saw this quote on Facebook: “The worst distance between two people is misunderstanding.” Therein lies the truth.

It is my conviction that when people who don't get their way and pick up their marbles and go home are acting like spoiled children who have no need for other people. How sad it is when adults insist on acting like children.

Up North

Up North

It's a long drive from Bozeman to Minneapolis. It can be done in a day but it takes stamina to make the 930 mile, 14 hour drive with four adults and three grandchildren. We made the trip in late August to attend two family reunions and a four-day vacation at a cabin up north.

You have to be a Minnesota native to understand “up north.”  It is not simply a direction on a compass. It is a mindset that says when Friday comes, it's time to head north to one of those 10,000 lakes and kick back for a weekend of fun. Lakeshores lined with cabins and docks sticking their long fingers into tranquil waters; the call of the loons beckoning one to leave the cares of the world behind and enjoy life.

This was the fourth time in less than a year that our family got together. The cabin we rented was more than adequate for eleven people. Nestled in a forest of Norway Pines, we savored access to a sand beach, a fishing dock, two kayaks, a pontoon boat and lots of beach toys. What more could you ask for up north.

August in Minnesota is known for its heat, humidity and mosquitos. We had nice everything. Warm days and cool nights kept us happy campers.

Small resort towns offer an ambiance you can't find in the big cities. We bought coffee, sweet rolls and candy at the gas station; cold cuts and cheese at the meat market, butter and bread at the small grocery store; and fish bait at the liquor store. The Log Cabin Bar and The Pickled Loon were for fine dining.

Family time is the best time with uninterrupted hours of shared lives. No pretense of having to be someone else or somewhere else. Michael J. Fox said it best: “Family is not an important thing, it's everything.” That’s Up North!

En Theos

En Theos

One advantage of a Classical education is that I know a little Latin and Greek. This was a prerequisite in seminary and I struggled through it.  I even spent one summer school session at a monastery to get proficient. Although I don't use the languages any more they do come in handy when reading inscriptions on public buildings.

The phrase “en Theos” literally means “in God.” This Greek phrase is the root of our English word “enthusiasm”. Webster’s Dictionary defines enthusiasm as “a strong excitement about something; a belief in special revelation of the Holy Spirit.” From its root, enthusiasm literally means, “filled with God.”

Living at a time when evolution is taught as truth rather than theory, it is difficult to grasp that anything is filled with God. Now that our culture has successfully removed God from public life and relegated him to private devotion and Sunday church, any sense of God attachment to the real world is not politically correct. The explanation that everything and everyone evolved through the survival of the fittest leaves no room for the grandeur of God.

I live in one of the most beautiful places in the world. People come from all over to see the majestic mountains, the fertile valleys and the teeming wildlife. Although there is great respect for the magnificence of nature, there is little recognition of its creator. All the credit is given to the complex evolving of a natural order. It seems that mankind is filled with itself and there is no room for the Other.

The Bible presents creation quite differently. Although Genesis 1-3 is often considered a myth, the biblical truth is that there is a creator who made it all and he did a mighty fine job of it. I like what the prophet Isaiah says: “Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord of hosts, the whole earth is full of His glory.”

The whole earth is filled with God. Can you see it?

Ed

Ed

We first met at the St. Paul Seminary in the fall of 1966. I was starting my second year of theology and Ed just arrived from Helena, Montana to start his first year. Together we were studying for the priesthood. Little did I know that how our lives would intertwine over the coming years.

 I was ordained in 1970 and lost contact with Ed. He had one more year of seminary before moving back to Montana. I was busy learning the ropes of pastoral life in a parish. From time to time I would hear how Ed was doing but we had lost touch. On a snowy evening in late 1976 Ed appeared at the door of the lodge Judy and I were running in the Bridger Mountains north of Bozeman. He heard that I had left the priesthood, married and moved to Montana.

Ed had left the priesthood and was working in Bozeman. We were able to spend time together during those years. I met his fiancée, Deborah and officiated at there wedding. As time went on and Judy and I moved back and forth between Minnesota and Montana, Ed and I purposed to stay in touch.

It came as a shock when I heard Ed was in the hospital. He wasn’t feeling well and ended up in the ER where he was diagnosed with pneumonia. The antibiotics didn't help and within two days his kidneys shut down and he died. I could not believe it. My good friend of forty-five years was gone. He was my link to those seminary years. We would periodically have lunch at the country club and reminisce of those days and share the latest gossip about classmates and the state of the church.

This has been a year of loss for me. Good friends and mentors have gone on to be with the Lord. Ed was a special friend. He was not just a part of my past; he was a Renaissance man. He was a gifted painter, preacher, counselor, conversationalist and healer. He told stories like Garrison Keller and he was a compassionate hospital chaplain. He was flawed like the rest of us but he was a unique. I miss him much.

Requiescat In Pace Ed.

Egos And Logos

Egos And Logos

Pastor John and I get together for coffee every couple of weeks. We meet in one of the many coffee places that have sprung up in Bozeman. We visit about our families, our churches and the general state of the world. Both of us have been pastors for a long time. For us there is not much new under the sun.

Several weeks ago, we were conversing over coffee, when I noticed a man by himself over in the corner. I could tell by the Bible next to him that he was a pastor working on his Sunday sermon. When John and I were leaving, I walked over and introduced myself. Sure enough he was a pastor of a church in town. After chatting for a few minutes, he mentioned that there was a pastor’s prayer meeting early on Tuesday mornings and encouraged us to come. It was what he said next that caught my attention. “We leave our egos and our logos at the door and focus on praying for our city.”

Egos speak of our personal identity. Unfortunately the church is not exempt from its leaders flexing their egos to attract attention. Over my years of ministry I have seen my fair share of inflated religious egos bite the dust and bring disgrace upon the church. Logos speak of corporate identity. It is the temptation of churches to inflate their importance and visibility by taking on the marketing strategies of the business world.

I believe what the invitation to the prayer meeting implied was leave your agenda at the door. I have participated in a lot of prayer meetings. Some of those gatherings were no more than an opportunity for pastors to flaunt their personal agendas. Under the guise of prayer most of the time was taken up in talk with only a few remaining minutes to beseech the Lord. No wonder the Church has lost much of its impact on our culture.

Back in the days of the Charismatic Renewal, we sang a worship song that had this refrain: “So forget about yourself and concentrate on Him, and worship Him, Christ the Lord.” I haven't attended that prayer meeting yet but I will soon. I plan to leave my Ego and my Logo at the door!

Birthdays

Birthdays

I remember my Grandmother saying, “When you get as old as I am, birthdays don't mean much anymore.” She said that when she was in her late 80’s. I am beginning to understand what she meant. The older I get the less important the actual event becomes. Some may think different.

I write this shortly before my 72^nd birthday but not publishing this blog until later. Why? Because I am kind of a private person and all those “Happy Birthday” greetings on Facebook scare me. Everybody knows that I am getting old so why remind me. Actually I do like to privately celebrate my birthday with family around. I like my grandkids birthdays the best. They are young enough to enjoy the magic. The anticipation of a party with gifts, cake and lots of attention are an affirmation of life and love.

Judy and I were married on my birthday. That was 41 years ago. I remember the argument we had about whether this was a good idea (not getting married but doing so on my birthday). The plus for me was that I would never forget our anniversary even if it was often overshadowed by my birthday. So at this advanced age, I am shifting my attention from birthday to anniversary; the more of those the better.

I conclude with a birthday song that I heard as a child on the Lunch with Casey Jones TV show back in the ‘50s. It still comes to me every August 2^nd: “Happy, Happy birthday to every girl and boy. Hope this very special day brings you lots of joy. Hope the birthday presents you get from Mom and Dad will make this very special day the best you ever had.”

Happy Birthday to me!

Garden of Mountains

Garden of Mountains

On a clear day, flying out of Bozeman, I get a panorama view of the Montana landscape. Mountaintops covered in snow, valleys shadowed in pines, swift running rivers and open prairies are a smorgasbord for the eyes. I never tire of this unique picture of the world where I live.

Over forty years ago, Judy and I made our first trip to Montana. We applied to run a ski lodge just north of Bozeman. The company that owned the lodge flew us out to see firsthand what we were getting into before we signed on the dotted line. At that time air travel was a rare experience for us.

Flying west we saw the lakes of northern Minnesota and the prairies of North Dakota and eastern Montana. Then came the mountains, snow-capped reaching for the sky. We had never seen so many mountains. Looking out the window I distinctly remember Judy saying, “Look, it's a garden of mountains.” Sure enough, as far as the eye could see, there were the Rocky Mountains. There isn't a time when flying that I don’t look and remember that we live in the center of a garden of mountains.

Mountains play an important role in the Bible. God created the mountains: he meets with people on mountains; and the holy city Jerusalem is built on a mountain. My favorite mountain Bible verse comes from Psalms 121: “I look up to the mountains; does my help come from there? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth! He will not let you stumble; the one who watches over you will not slumber. Indeed, he who watches over Israel never sleeps or slumbers.”

How great is our God who made Gardens of Mountains.

Terrors of the Night

Terrors of the Night

It was a hot, humid night in the tropics. As I lay in my bed under the protective covering of mosquito netting, the humming of an ancient air conditioner kept me awake. This was my last night in Mombasa, Kenya. I had an early flight to catch in the morning that would take me home.

I had been here for ten days teaching at a Pastors Conference. In my previous trips I was part of a team that came from the States. This time I came alone and was joined by a pastor from Australia. Together we spent four days teaching and visiting churches out in the bush.

On the next to the last day, when we met for breakfast, my friend told me he received an emergency call from home. His daughter was seriously sick and he needed to leave that day for Australia. That left me alone. Well, not completely alone. The bishop who invited us to come was to take me to the airport in the morning.

Alone, the only white man in the hotel, and a long night ahead of me I sensed it would be a difficult one. Trying to sleep and at the same time listening to unfamiliar noises, there was no way I could close my eyes. Before I knew it, fear had gripped me. My imagination started to run wild. I saw strange shadows in the room. I started sweating. The terrors of the night were upon me. Terrors of the night are a condition in which a person reacts to a foreboding sense of fear.

I prayed like I never prayed before. I remembered I had a portable CD player with me. I put my headphones on and spent the rest of the night awake, praying and listening to hymns. It was only by the grace of God that I didn't completely flip out.

The Bible says: “You will not fear the terrors of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday…If you say, ‘The Lord is my refuge,’ and make the Most High your dwelling, no harm will overtake you, no disaster will come near your tent.”

Amen