Hero

Hero

Several days ago, I read that one of my heroes was near death. I knew he was not doing well at the age of 85 but that his life was near the end was disconcerting to me. Even though I had never met him in person, his writings affected my life and ministry.

Last evening, I read that Eugene Peterson: pastor, theologian, biblical scholar and mentor had gone home to be with the Lord. According to his family, his final words were “Let’s go” and “Oh yea!” It was a sacred time as he was ushered into the presence of the Lord.

I don’t remember how I was introduced to his writings but once I started, I devoured all of them. The practical, pastoral insight into the workings of God’s Word into this man’s life was simply amazing. He spent thirty years as a local church pastor, baptizing, marrying and burying people. All the while translating the Bible from the original Hebrew and Greek into colloquial American English, so people could easily read and understand.

 His book Reversed Thunder, a study of the book of Revelation, took all the scary out of one of the most misunderstood books of the Bible. His autobiography, The Pastor, encouraged me to pay attention to the simple and mundane in the ministry of a pastor. Tell It Slant, Run with the Horses, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction and a score of others disciplined my mind and heart in the ways of God.

There is a You Tube video of a conversation between Eugene Peterson and Bono. That was an eye opener. A rock star who had been touched by The Message translation. Several people familiar with Bono’s concerts told me that he uses the Psalms in his concert.

Hero’s without baggage are a scarcity these days. If you aren’t an athlete, movie star or politician you don’t get much attention from the media. Every hero has clay feet. I am sure those close to Pastor Peterson could list his shortcomings. Yet, what makes a hero is a combination of warts and halos. I am sure Eugene had both.

Paul, the New Testament apostle, as he drew near the end of his life wrote to Timothy these words: “The time of my death is near. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful. And now the prize awaits me: the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me on the day of his return.”

Coffee

Coffee

I didn’t start drinking coffee until I was twenty-one. Come to think of it, that was about the same time I started drinking beer. There may be a corollary there, but I don’t remember. I considered coffee to be an old man’s drink: something you did in the morning to wake up and get the bowels moving. That’s why I stayed away from it for so long; I didn’t have trouble with either.

Now I have a daily habit of one cup of coffee right after I get up. While I am waiting for our dog to finish his breakfast, Purina with a little fish oil in it, I fire up my Keurig coffee maker. One cup with my Bible reading is just enough to get the day started.

I like my coffee dark roast with no sugar or cream. I have tried all kinds of fancy coffee drinks: Cappuccinos, Lattes, Mochas and Expressos. Just plain dark brew is fine with me. Besides being convenient right at home, it is also a lot cheaper.

Speaking of which, there are as many coffee shops in Bozeman as there are brew pubs. Not long ago if you wanted Starbucks coffee you had to drive all the way to Seattle. Now there are at least a half dozen in town. Also, there is City Brew, Cold Smoke, Zocalo, Rockford, Wild Joe’s, Wild Crumb, and Café M to name a few. I have been to them all, but none is as good as my cup of home brew.

I still do a fair amount of visiting at local coffee shops. At least once a week I meet someone to catch up on life or hand out free advice. I know which places have the best pastries and are quiet enough to hear what my friend is saying.

Recently I saw an online quote that sums up my long-standing relationship with coffee. It has the ring of truth to it. “Sometimes having coffee with your best friend is all the therapy you need.”

Well said!

Good Grief

Good Grief

Charlie Brown was fond of saying “good grief” whenever life started going south on him. Whenever he was at logger heads with Peppermint Patty or Linus, this was his mantra.  Charlie Brown became the poster boy for good grief.

Although it’s a little outdated, the phrase is uttered when one is surprised, alarmed, dismayed or shocked at an unexpected situation. For those who have some religious sensibilities it is an acceptable substitute for “good God” or “good Lord.”

There is another meaning. What brought it to mind was the recent news that Maggie, our grandkids cat of many years, died. Those of us who were raised with pets know that they are as much a part of the family as any sibling. When a pet is sick or dies, it is a family crisis and a season of grieving begins.

As a child, I grieved over the loss of my pets. Entering into the life-death cycle at an early age teaches valuable lessons that pay big dividends later. I learned about grieving, the good grieving, at the back-yard burials of Pooka and Bandit, the parakeets, cats, rabbits and gerbils who were my childhood friends.  Experiencing those losses helped prepare me for bigger losses later in life.

No grief is fun. It is the hard reality of living. Whenever I stand over a grave praying for my own or someone else’s loved one, I experience a measure of grief all over again. Grief is the God given emotion that purges the soul when loss comes our way. I have learned to embrace the good grief.

I share the following as a postscript. “Grief never ends. But it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith. It’s the price of love.” Author unknown.

Autumn

Autumn

This is the most beautiful time of the year in Montana. Oh, spring and summer are fine, winters are a bit long, but autumn is the best. It can be the shortest season of the year squeezed between hot summer and cold winter. This precious time with its warm days and the cool nights are a welcome transition.

With the first signs of the season changing, I start thinking of all the needs to be done to prepare for winter. The patio furniture put away, the retractable awning covered, flower gardens cut and raked, extension cords set up for outside Christmas lights, screens stored, and hoses drained. The list goes on and on.

There are other autumn chores that are more fun than work. It’s time to get my hunting gear organized: clean the rifle, find the binoculars and hunting knife, run to the sporting goods store to purchase licenses. I need to be ready when the snow flies and the deer are in the rut.

My favorite autumn chore is when a friend calls and says the time has come to lay up some wood. He rents a hydraulic splitter and it’s to work we go. Watching that splitter do its job and tossing those chunks of wood and stacking in the garage gives me a sense that all is well. On those cold winter nights with the fireplace aflame, I am thankful for our labor with the splitter.

I can’t forget to mention the beauty of the leaves turning. Aspens changing from summer green to autumn yellow; maples shining bright red. A sure sign that life in Montana is heading for winter. Once the leaves are raked and the snow shovels are made ready, it is time to welcome winter.

Feeling nostalgic about the fleetness of autumn, I came upon a quote that gives expression to this time of change: “The trees are about to show us how lovely it is to let things go.”

 I am watching.

Candy Bar

Candy Bar

Now this is a topic where I have some expertise. In previous blogs I mentioned that I have an on-going addiction to all things sweet. Often I have tried to kick the habit but to no avail. I have a recurring excuse to indulge no matter the consequences.

What brought this to mind was what I found in my winter coat the other day. It was cold outside, so I grabbed a heavier jacket. As I reached into the pocket for my gloves I found a Salted Nut Roll. When I put this coat away last spring, I didn’t realize a candy bar was left there. It’s a good thing that roll of sugar and nuts has a twenty-year shelf life.

That discovery made me think again about my addiction. So, I started a list of my favorite candy bars thinking that if I would come clean on my sugar sin, I could be set free. As I began to compile this list just the opposite happened. My mouth started salivating so I headed out to my truck where a keep a stash of Salted Nut Rolls in the jockey box. Sad!

For what it’s worth here is the list I had hoped would bring me freedom: Nut Goodies, Hersey’s Chocolate, Kit Katz, Babe Ruth, Snickers, 3 Musketeers, Milky Way, Butterfingers, Mounds Bar, Nestle Crunch, Twix and Mr. Goodbar.  Wow! Each one of those has a minimum of 148 calories. All of these are readily available at the gas station convenience store. They make you walk through the candy aisle on the way to the rest room.

I know it is a stretch but while writing this blog a scripture verse came to mind. This may be the answer I have been seeking. Often I have read it but never with this application in mind. The psalmist David said: “How sweet are your words to my taste! Yes, sweeter than honey to my mouth!”