Ivory Soap

Ivory Soap

Watching my favorite holiday movie, A Christmas Story, with friends, I was reminded of what life was like as a boy fervently wanting a BB gun for Christmas. I know what it is like to want something so bad you can taste it and wondering why nobody else shares the same passion as you.

I got two six shooters with a holster and cowboy hat one Christmas. They were cap guns that when you pulled the trigger the gun popped and made smoke that smelled like real gun powder. My brother and I would play cowboys endlessly until our mother couldn’t stand the noise any longer.

My favorite scene in that movie was when a swear word flew out of Ralphie’s mouth in his mother’ presence. Her response was to stick a bar of soap in his mouth as punishment with a warning never to speak that word again. There was Ralphie wide eyed with a huge bar of soap in his mouth unable to utter a word.

My mother was a lot like Ralphie’s mom. There was a time, I don’t remember the circumstances, that a swear word flew out of my mouth in her presence. She grabbed me by the neck, took me in the bathroom, and shoved a big bar of Ivory soap in my mouth. There I was sitting on a stool, eyes wide just like Ralphie’s, choking on the bar. Let me tell you Ivory soap did not taste good. After a forever time, mom reappeared and warned me that the same would happen if she ever heard that word come from my mouth again. To this day I carry a grudge against Ivory soap and refuse to buy it.

Some of life’s lessons leave a bad taste in your mouth. I can’t honestly say that was the last time I swore but I did learn a lesson about watching what comes out of my mouth. The Bible says, “Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.”

 

Rejoice

Rejoice

One of the reasons I like the Christmas season is that Jesus gets lots of free publicity with the carols sung on radio, TV and in the mall. Paying attention to the words as well as the music, one can get the whole story about Jesus. For the past several weeks I have preached using the most popular carols. Which brings me to the point of this blog.

While preparing last Sunday’s sermon on O Come, Emmanuel, I had a flash from the past; a sure sign I am getting old. Fifty-five years ago, I am singing this carol in the seminary chapel. Dressed in cassock, surplice and biretta (a clergy hat not dissimilar from a Mickey Mouse hat) in a religious atmosphere filled with the fragrance of incense and the ringing of bells. I was a young seminarian preparing to be a priest, still wet behind the ears on clerical life. “Veni, veni, Emmanuel” sung in Gregorian chant as part of the Vesper service.

Much has happened in life since then: marriage, children and grandchildren, pastoring in two denominations, running a ski lodge and now pastor of a small congregation in Montana. Little did I dream the path the Lord had prepared for me. All I wanted that day in that chapel filled with young men like myself was to serve the Lord.

Interesting how the Lord takes you up on the desires of your heart. Looking back on the joys, disappointments, trials and blessings, I see how his hand directed my steps. I don’t want this to sound too religious. The truth is that for most of my journey, I wasn’t sure the Lord was directing my steps. There were times when I thought for sure he had forgotten all about me. O me of little faith. It was my grandmother who told me that hindsight is always twenty-twenty.

The truth is that  this Christmas like all the Christmas pasts is a reminder the Lord Jesus has come to dwell with us. The Bible says, “The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood.” Rejoice!

A Blessed Christmas to all.

Window Shopping

Window Shopping

It all came back to me like a blast from the past. I was walking down Main Street here in Bozeman with my family at the annual Christmas Stroll. The street closed to traffic was filled with food stalls, Christmas lights and people. Passing by a clothing store, I happened to look at the display windows. Two American Flyer model trains were chugging around their oval tracks.

In my mind I was immediately transported back some sixty-five years to my childhood. My father had erected an eight by four platform four feet off the ground in the furnace room. I think what motivated him was my mother who in no uncertain terms told him he needed to do a project with his boys.

On this plywood platform, my dad laid out a plan for a standard scale railroad track. He brought home all the stuff needed to build a railroad: tracks, an American Flyer steam engine and freight cars (Santa Fe engine and passenger cars were added later), track switches, transformer and a train station.

My brother and I did the rest. We laid out the track, build a mountain with a tunnel from chicken wire and paper mâché, set up a town with people, buildings, wired telephone poles and green grass made from coloring coffee grounds. It was a wonder to behold. What fun the two of us had getting it all together, learning how a train works. Our steam engine even had real smoke coming out of the stack.

I spent the rest of the Christmas Stroll thinking about our American Flyer adventure. Before I started to write this blog, I called my brother and asked, “Do you remember when Dad set up that platform in the furnace room so we could build our model railroad?” Well, the next forty five minutes were spent reminiscing.

Funny what can happen when you window shop.

Hope

Hope 

‘Tis the season! Already the Holidays are upon us and the rush is on. In a little over two weeks the frenzy of carols and tinsel will be over. For us in the northern climate snow and cold are with us for another four months. Too bad Christmas isn’t at the end of winter. Then we could move right into spring.

Hope is one of the hallmarks of the season. It is sung in the music, printed on cards and preached from the pulpits. For all the hype of hope, I sense a lot of hopelessness in the air. Our political, cultural and economic climate wants to dampen any attempt to hope for something better.

This is not something new. Throughout human history whenever hope is heralded promising a greater future for humankind, there is a counter force to squelch it. Could it be that there is an increased fear abroad that to hope is an exercise in futility? Why be disappointed again?

The Bible is rich in its encouragement to hope. Over and over God encourages  people to step out of fear and put their trust in him. Biblical hope is the confident expectation that He is in charge; in charge of world events and my life. Sound scary? No scarier than going it alone and floundering in failures and disappointments. Learning to trust the Lord that he knows what’s best for me and the world is the secret of hope.

I am reminded of Abraham, the father of all believers. When he realized that he couldn’t do what God promised him, a son, because he was too old, the Bible says, 

“when everything was hopeless, Abraham believed anyway, deciding to live not on the basis of what he saw he couldn’t do but on what God said he would do. And so he was made a multitude of peoples.”

Could this be the real reason for the season: to be challenged to hope against hope and trust God?

Dentist

Dentist

My first visit to the dentist was traumatic. At six years old my mother thought it was time for a checkup. With little information about what was to happen, I entered the dentist’s office. I remember like it was yesterday. The antiseptic smell hit my olfactory receptors like punch in the nose. I sat in a huge chair that titled backwards like magic. The dentist stuck a needle in my mouth to numb my gums. That was the last straw. Then and there I vowed I would avoid the dentist like the plague.

Obviously, that wasn’t the last time in the dentist chair. Over the years I begrudgingly learned to accept my annual dental exam. Because I am a confessed sugarholic, I spent more than my fair share there. Most of my dentists were nice people who were sensitive to my fear and pain. I’ve discovered that some dental hygienists are a little rough though. Several years ago, I went to one who I swear got her training on You Tube. She not only made my gums burn but loosened a filling as well.

I have had enough dental procedures to last a lifetime. Root canals, crowns, wisdom teeth pulled as well as two molars, a bridge replacement, and chipped teeth glued back in place. I think about all I have left is having my teeth pulled and wear dentures – God forbid!

Max is my dentist now. I really like the guy. He has a great sense of humor and genuinely cares about this old man’s choppers. He’s a Minnesota boy so we have a lot to talk about as he explores my next cavity. He is gracious to Judy who likes him even more than me.

I have a separate expense column in my budget for the dentist. On an annual basis it is almost as much as my house payments. Well, I figure by the time I die I will have spent enough on dental care to pay for my funeral a dozen times over. I should not be surprised. This is what I get for having a sweet tooth.