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