Runaway Pastor

Where is God in the blurry mix?

2011-10-02T04:47:00.000-07:00

Details--and more details. Things to do. Worries dangling over some threatening precipice. We cannot identify their source, yet their weight threatens to undue us.

Sometimes it feels as if our days are shattered into a million tiny fragments. There are, after all, so many things to keep in mind—so many plates to spin in the process of our life-- and of making a living. Far from having focus, our splayed vision shatters concentration like a prism scatters light, except that there is no beauty in the dispersion.

What is the product? Confusion, lack of focus, anxiety and frustration are a few symptoms. Stress, sadness, depression, hopelessness are a few more.

Where is God in the blurry mix?

I find great encouragement in Philippians 3:4-14. Paul completes his thoughts with a bombastic statement. "This one thing I do..." How can that be true? Paul travels, faces immense persecution and suffering, starts churches, trains leaders, manages them at great distances, writes letters, faces-down Roman governors--and all the while he is composing Christian Theology and church polity on the fly?? One thing??

Right. Where was he hiding his "to do" list?

Once, when Jesus had impressed the multitudes with his miracles, a group of religious followers asked him, "What must we do to do the works God requires?"

Jesus answered them: "The work God requires is to believe in the one he has sent." (John 6:28-29)

We ask the great questions of life in the plural.

Jesus answers in the singular.

One thing is required. Jesus. And Paul understood.

And I'm trying.

First fires, and rekindling my spiritual disciplines

2011-10-01T08:29:00.000-07:00

I just placed the first fire of the year in our wood stove. Forty degrees this morning and a frost warning for tonight. When the cabin thermostat showed fifty-nine, it seemed a solid enough hint.

Looking now across the room, the glass in the wood stove displays beautiful, dancing flames. But the struggle to get that fire started was not an easy one. There were repeated trips to the newspaper stack. A fresh splinter received from the process of tearing kindling from a stubborn, yet well seasoned piece of fire wood. I re-lit and puffed and rearranged the ingredients until finally, the fire had its own life.

First fires are tough. The beauty and warmth they provide are life sustaining.

I find it a similar truth when rekindling my spirit. Prayer and spiritual discipline require steady and determined effort to catch their own life; and now and then, despite myself, I find nothing but ash in my soul. At those times, I have to begin again. I need to attend to my spiritual disciplines.

I no longer despair in times like these--thinking that God has deserted me, or is hiding until I prove myself worthy of a restored flame. No, the truth is simple. Relationships require two or more. And sometimes I'd prefer to be the served master, rather than a responsible partner.

The Psalmist David once said: "Restore to me the joy of my salvation." And then, I assume, he proceeded to his spiritual disciplines.

The Great Trees of the Forest~And coming up short of greatness

2011-09-03T13:56:00.000-07:00

Here in the National forests of southern Indiana, some of our younger, weaker trees are sagging under the summer sun. Rains have been few, and plants in under-watered gardens bow low. Shrubs all but pant aloud, seeking pity with their dying leaves. The grass snaps under foot as I cross the lawn. The trails I hike are dust. Rushing streams from earlier in the summer are nothing but gravel and silt. Talcum-fine powder cascades down the rear window of our car. Think "desert" in a Midwestern forest.

And yet the great trees of the forest sway green in the hot breeze. Their branches remain strong and supple, and their leaves vital and alive. What is their source of strength--of endurance?

Yesterday morning, five degrees before the thermometer topped one hundred, I parked my Jeep and stepped into the forest for a five mile hike. I had plenty of water. The tall oaks, sycamores, beech, maples and ash cooled the air. Their canopy offered cover from the sun's anger. I heard the occasional unsuspecting animals move for protection--their motion less a wintertime skitter, and more a forced march. Yet, beneath the protection of the great trees of the forest, life lumbered and gasped along, as did I.

I paused long enough to step into a stream bed. Just a few short months ago, water had gushed its way through this valley--pushing gravel and forest debris into great piles. Not now. All of life seems to have bent, moaned or broken midst this arid season--except for the giants of the forest. Even next to the empty stream, the sycamores and beech trees stand firm.

Ever wanted to be a spiritual giant?

We all experience dry times in our lives. Our sources for spiritual renewal seem drained. They no longer provide. What worked last month, is coming up empty today. We are denied living water by life's bustle, griefs or fury. And soon, in the blazing place we call today, we bend to worry, doubt and despair.

I am no great oak. My branches sag too often, and my leaves chatter their browning complaints. It is agonizing to find one's self so often coming up short of greatness.

Yet, we must keep on seeking sources that remain; and longing to push roots deeply enough into rocky soil to find Life--no matter the surface condition. That is, if we ever want to be a covering for those who depend on us.

Perhaps spiritual giants--like great forest trees--become so in order to shelter those of us who are weak? Perhaps personal survival is the last thing on their minds? Perhaps it's easier to breath up there where the living and giving are being done?

Staying open in the seasons of lIfe

2011-08-23T18:16:00.000-07:00

Another four weeks will pass by on the calendar before summer officially succumbs to fall. Leaves will tumble and crackle beneath hiking boots, and gray chimney smoke will waft into brilliant blue skies. Nascent spring life will submit to the inevitable beauty of brisk late-year relinquishing. The calendar says we must wait, but cooler mornings and evenings speak of imminent transition.

What changes are you sensing in your life? Earth speaks irrefutably with scorching heat and icy storms. Does your spirit welcome life's approaches with equal resolve? Do you not occasionally feel it in your bones, the ache of life's seasons? The urgency to move forward--or aside?

Where we live, stubborn months insist on a certain degree of individuality. The August we're living will bear little resemblance to the January which passed six months ago. Whether or not we acknowledge the seasons, they bear along their own idiosyncrasies.

And such is true of our living--acknowledge it or not. Change impresses itself upon each of us in waves of growing and aging. And upon these waves we have opportunity to participate in the making of our hearts.

Last week my wife and I calendared four beautiful days living in a tent next to a chattering mountain stream. In cherished moments of conversation, of preparing and enjoying simple foods and of sitting and reading and thinking, peace seeped unawares into the corners of our spirits.

"Wisdom calls out," says the ancient writer of Proverbs. I long to be among the wise who find ways to quiet themselves enough to hear her voice.

The Runaway Pastor: an update.

2011-07-05T16:47:00.000-07:00

Things are about to change for The Runaway Pastor. It is temporarally out of print, yet still available from Amazon aftermarket sellers. I also have a few more copies.

A new printing will take place soon. I'll let you know when I know the timing.

In the mean time, I'm working on a new manuscript. The story I'm writing now is one of the first concepts I wanted to work into a fiction piece, yet never took the time. Now I have begun working on it during days off. It leans on my time living overseas in Ukraine. I'm excited to do the story, because I want to know how it turns out.

You may have noticed that I've taken a blogging break. That may be about to change.

Peace to you.

A Snapshot of Ancient Worship

2011-05-04T06:28:00.000-07:00

Over the past decade, I have begun to read and enjoy glimpses into the church's past. There are three events in the following worship order from AD 138. How has worship changed? How is it the same?

“On the day named after the sun, we hold a meeting in one place for all who live in the cities or the country nearby. The memoirs of the apostles [the gospels] or the writings of the prophets are read as long as time permits. When the reader has finished, the overseer gives a talk urging and inviting us to imitate all these good examples. Then we all stand up together and send up our prayers.”
(Justin Martyr from his First Apology. Circa AD 138)

Seven Symptoms of the Burnout You Can Avoid

2011-03-31T09:05:00.000-07:00

Warnings I ignored.

This post has sat in my computer's memory for days. I do not want to post it. The circumstances it describes are bleak, and thankfully long past for me. However, If I am able to frighten anyone into shifting gears and avoiding what I've experienced, it will be worth it.

Please, this is not a request for sympathy. It is a pathetic admission of an ego gone amuck. Five years ago I believed I had to be the answer to every problem my congregation, my family and my friends experienced. I had what some refer to as a "Messiah Complex." I am seeking to learn to trust in Christ's strength.

In the winter of 2005 and 2006 I was sprinting toward a health crisis which drastically altered my life. In February of 2006, the crash had begun, and by March it was a full-blown catastrophe.

Seven Symptoms of the Burnout I Experienced

1. Intensifying headaches were first symptom I ignored. Everyone has an occasional headache. But during the three years prior to my burnout, mine became more severe and more regular.

2.That winter my fatigue was pronounced. I felt weary and dragged myself through the days. And, unlike the the sleepy days and sleepless nights which accompanied my depression as the burnout kicked-in, I could sleep all night and still need naps throughout the day. I was always tired.

3. Another symptom I missed was the increased caffeine. In order to battle against my body's cries for rest, I self-medicated with coffee, shots of espresso and handfuls of chocolate chips.

4. I began giving myself strange new high-energy pep talks. Once, after finishing an eight mile run, in the middle of a forest I tensed my entire body and shouted a long "Yes!" I began noticing these strange self-urgings-on--more and more--as if I was pleading with myself to be strong and to keep going.

5. I began to lose my appetite for healthy food, and would re-stoke my energy fires with chocolate or yet another espresso. I alternated between forgetting to eat, and gorging on junk food.

6. The darkest part of the journey was when I began to experience the symptom I would later call "cotton head"--a sensation of intense dizziness and feeling faint. The first of these episodes happened in the middle of a sermon. I was teaching and enjoying the morning when it seemed that someone, somehow had pulled my power cord from the wall. It was so sudden, I almost fell to the floor. After sitting for a moment, I finished the message and spent an afternoon in the ER (which would be followed by months of being CAT-scanned and x-rayed and blood-tested and MRI'd).

7. In the two weeks following this first experience of cotton head, I lost twenty pounds and realized I could no longer walk twenty feet without stopping to rest and check my balance. I was experiencing blood sugar swings that would suddenly drop me to a 60 count and put me on my back. My doctor diagnosed stress. Two counselors spoke of a "major depression." A natural healer diagnosed stress induced adrenal burnout. I simply wanted to lay down and go to sleep and not wake up or face anyone anymore...and I am normally one of the most outgoing people you could meet.

Into the Darkness and Back
It was at this time that I sadly realized I had arrived in what became the dark and horrifying tunnel of depression.

Since that time, now five years ago, I have learned a great deal. My life is brighter and I'm less harsh with myself.

So in my next post, I will list symptoms of my recovery. It will be brighter and hopeful. This has been far too dark of a recollection for me. Please feel free to repost it, or to share it with anyone you think might benefit.

Quilters of my congregation: Servants Making a Difference

2011-03-24T12:45:00.000-07:00

Years ago, a group of women from our congregation began gathering monthly and making quilts. Stitch after stitch, they push needles through fabric and batting until another of their masterpieces is complete and ready for service. Their meetings are loving and intentional: a labor of love.

I'll usually wander through the room where they spread out their tasks--each worker at their own table and own quilt. Some specialize in various parts of the process. They all do their part. They make baby quilts, bunk bed quilts, and occasionally, queen sized quilts.

And I have been present when it is time to box their work. Before they ship them off to some needy destination, they gather and lay their servant hands on the soft material. They pray for the hurting and broken and orphan who will sleep peacefully beneath their blanketing love. Many of these treasures leave our building with fresh tears sanctifying their journey.

Over time the quilting group has grown, as has the list of destinations for their offerings. The globe is dotted with thousands of their deposits. Homes, hospitals, clinics and orphanages are supplied. Children and hurting people from dozens of nations on every continent have received gifts of love from our women. Grateful people receive nightly comfort directly from their hands.

I'm thinking about how works of love--done consistently over years and decades--add up to massive blessing. I'm also thinking of the thousands of prayer blessings that have been carried around the planet by travelers with extra room in their baggage. After a while it seems intentional loving obedience adds up to blessing we are not capable of measuring.

And I'm praying that in my living and serving, I will be able to send out consistent blessings in ways that are beyond my ability to measure. Maybe someday we will be able to see and understand the gift of a single loving act of obedience. Either way, I believe there will be a day when several women from our congregation will hear a "Well done," from the One they have served all of these years.

The Runaway Pastor on Amazon.com

2011-03-19T14:43:00.000-07:00

My novel, The Runaway Pastor is available online at amazon.

If you have read The Runaway Pastor, I invite you to write a review at the amazon site. It is very helpful to receive these reviews. Although those posted at amazon to date have been very favorable, feel free to register other opinions.

If you are interested in autographed copies, you can contact me at runawaypastor@gmail.com .

Peace to you.

Jesus the Gardener: And those who follow

2011-03-18T14:15:00.000-07:00

Last night I raced the sunset to a patch of dirt behind our church's community center. I took along this year's first offerings to the soil. Forty minutes later, with light mostly faded, I sprinkled some water across the patch of onion sets I'd planted.

I rose to my feet with satisfaction, and stretched my back and relished the cool patch of mud on the right knee of my blue jeans. I planned the planting of more onions and some snow peas today. The garden season is underway.

Jesus the Gardener
Jesus told a lot of garden stories. He emphasized the importance of the soil to the seed--how it cooperates with sun and rain to work the miracle of growth and reproduction.

I daydreamed while muddying my hands. I thought of scattering more seed in this world--seeds of hope and good news and world change. I despaired at how difficult we make the spreading of God's reign. We create such tedious and cumbersome systems that we sometimes despair of trying.

I like Jesus' idea. He simply scattered seeds as a way of life. He issued "Follow me's," and moved on. He challenged men and women to take his good news wherever they lived.

And that news spread like wildfire. From house to house, town to town and nation to nation they dashed about scattering seeds of hope and life. That challenge seems so much more grand than ours today. We ask people to "believe." Jesus asked them to join a movement.

This reminds me of a friend's favorite quote. "It's a lot easier to get people to join an elephant hunt, than a mouse hunt." I can still hear him say it.

Church Gone Viral
I've planted a few kingdom seeds over time. It's exciting to start a holy fire and watch it grow. I'm not finished with such dreams. Christians are easily bored when not finding ways and places to scatter seeds.

I've mostly tended gardens others have planted--watering and reaping as time and harvest demand. There is joy in this. But I long to share the joy of planting with those with whom I minister. I want to help them get their hands and knees in the mud, and then watch to see what the soil brings.

The Nicodemus in us

2011-03-17T07:37:00.001-07:00

From his carefully administrated club meeting, Nicodemus left and went exploring. He knew the verdict of the experts. He was on their panel. And their judgement was: Jesus is a troublemaker and needed to be gotten rid of.

The Nicodemus in you and me.
But Nicodemus' heart was not satisfied with their answers. On the one hand, the Pharisees believed Jesus had some tie-in with God. He was, after all, doing miracles and giving profound teaching. But on the other hand, he had really ticked them off by wrecking havoc in the temple courts.

Maybe it was that passion. Maybe it was seeing fire in Jesus' eyes that sent Nicodemus where he should not go. Maybe he wanted fire, and was tired of administration.

Can you relate to Nicodemus? Have you ever grown tired of running your part of the church: your class, your board committee, your group, your task, your tithe? Have you ever wished you were working with fire, rather than having a job to do? I think that is just what Nicodemus was feeling.

Nicodemus didn't however, go down the mountain looking for a fire somewhere else. He didn't raise a stink about his Pharisee teacher or the High Priest/CEO of the Sanhedrin. He didn't gossip about the lack of passion in his committee. He went to the source of the fire he'd seen. The one with the whip and the flashing eyes.

Harsh Words for a Religious Leader
But Jesus makes it kind of tough for Nic. He doesn't take it easy on him and cut him slack. He doesn't teach him with simple words. He speaks poetry to him. Allegory. Analogy. He gives him a brief, yet vitally sincere responses.

"Unless you are born again, you cannot see the kingdom of God."

And when that doesn't work, he adds, "Unless you are born of God's Spirit, you cannot enter the kingdom of God."

And in these two short statements--he tells the general superintendent, the Bishop, the guy on the Senate committee...he tells him two things:

"You can't see God's work.
And,
you don't know how to be a part of it."

I think the truth of these next words must have weighed heavily on Jesus. "You are on God's elite teaching team....How will God ever communicate his ways to the world, if even you don't understand them?"

Could John 3:16 be only the consolation prize?
(I know I'll get some guff over this.)
Finally Jesus speaks our favorite of his words. "For God so loved the world, that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes on him, will have eternal life. For God didn't send his son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved."

These words, it seems to me, are the grand consolation prize. "Sure, if people believe in me, if they look to me in faith, they will live forever."

But that isn't the point! "Nicodemus, I'm looking for kingdom people. I'm looking for people born of the spirit and living in his power. I'm looking for radical apostles who will go into the world and change it by the power of God's Spirit and for the purposes of God's will".

What Would the World Look Like If???
Now, as I write this I'm thinking, the Kingdom (or reign) of God is God's plan to set the world right. To end hunger and hatred. To pull people together beyond all prejudices, to make the rich care about the starving, and the do-nothing system manipulator care about doing his part to care for himself and others. I just believe that Jesus came to prepare a people who would change the way things are done in the world.

But when his people--or at least those of us who borrow his name--stay busy doing stuff to build and enhance the status of our empires, everything turns to waste. Since the motives are selfish and not Jesus-ish, then they turn sour...sour enough to make those who have tasted his power want to puke.

I'm afraid most Christians watch dark headlines with a sinister interest in world-doom, rather than making headlines creating God's Kingdom come.

World Changers Settling for Heaven Only.
It's almost like Jesus is saying: Nicodemus, it is in your DNA to be a world-changer, and you are stuck in your religious thinking! I'm afraid the best I'll be able to offer you and most religious people is eternal life in Heaven, because of course, God didn't send me to condemn the world. But what I need you to be is a wrecking ball to religion, and the very hand of God to bring change to this needy and lost world."

Ready to go exploring?

Choosing fear or trust: approaching life with hope

2011-03-16T11:16:00.000-07:00

The sun has come up and a new day has begun. Yesterday's cold rain is nothing but a few puddles along the side of the road. Today's sky is full of bright hope.

Yesterday's work is past and today's is underway. Some of yesterday's questions are answered by today's arrival, and some are as hidden as tomorrow's sunrise.

Hard Lessons
I'm still learning midsts these years of my life. This is one of the lessons I garnered from our time living in Italy last fall: Life is to be approached from an attitude of trust, not fear. These options constantly present themselves. Will I rest in God's provision for my life, or assume that I must handle the stress on my own? That choice makes all the difference. For in those moments, we can choose to approach life with hope.

Far too often, I've approached these challenges as reasons for fear, rather than trust. Like a child who sees the physician as a person to dread...
--I've approached sources of pain as a challenge to my value, rather than a grace of healing.
--I've interpreted failures as explanations of my valuelessness.
--Challenges were not opportunities, but insults!
--Conflict was seen as condemnation, rather than communication.

Trusting or fearing?
Some days--such as that raincloud-covered-yesterday--shade the light of the sun so that I cannot see these opportunities to trust and grow and heal. And on other mornings, when spring's first-birdsong-filled-sunshine is winning the day, I feel like I get it...that perhaps I finally understand.

I guess life's lessons are applied only by intense effort. It's one thing to learn new truth, and another to practice that truth.

Perhaps you might join me in re-assessing how you approach hard things and difficult times? And maybe this beautiful spring season is a good time to begin.

Who is Jesus: Who gets to answer this question in our day?

2011-03-15T13:31:00.000-07:00

This is the first time I've used this site to solicit sermon insights. Yours are welcomed!

I'm working on a sermon for this weekend. Nicodemus comes to Jesus observing that Jesus must be from God, for no one could do the stuff Jesus is doing if God weren't with him.

I'm thinking of the many ways that people come to explore the person of Jesus today. How would they begin their exploration? To whom would they turn?

I'm also wondering about the responses people get to their questions about Jesus.

Any comments?

I dare you to pray!

2011-03-14T10:21:00.000-07:00

I dare you to pray! I dare you to become new!

I invite you to quiet your mind right now and pray.

Who says you can't reclaim the next two minutes of your life--take them back for yourself and your Rescuer--and...
...Seek Jesus as your highest Treasure.

...Say a thanks.

...Speak a praise.

...Whisper an "I love you" to your maker.

...Be still and know God's presence in and around you.

...Ask for help and safety for our neighbors in Japan whom you've never met.

...Plead for peace in the Middle East.

...Desire a renewed awareness of God's Spirit in your life.

Take two minutes to pray five times a day, and you are ten minutes into a new way of living!

Running low on winter fuel

2011-03-13T17:56:00.000-07:00

I thought we had plenty of wood for heating this winter. I assumed we'd have three or four ricks of firewood to carry over to next fall and winter.* But we are running low on winter fuel.

As the winter goes away, the cool nights remain. And the high efficiency wood stove, which heats our home, is still burning an armload or so each day. Those armloads, and their purchase price and the stacking and the burning are the price paid to save money by not using a furnace. They are also the price you pay for smelling the fire and watching its dance throughout the long winter months.

And so tonight as we sit quietly in our cabin--Shelly knitting and me blogging ever so poorly--the stove ticks and envelopes us in its comforting warmth. And as the flames flicker behind the glass on the stove door, I think again that I just can't get enough of living in the woods, and near the land.

My garden books are sitting next to me asking for attention now. So instead of continuing this obligatory post in my thirty day challenge, I think I'll go to them, and leave you to better surfing and reading.

*For you city slickers, a "rick" is two foot long logs, or shorter, stacked four feet high, and eight feet long. At least that's the Brown County, Indiana definition. It is also a half of a cord.

It's Saturday: Your pastor has you on their mind, and Satan in their face

2011-03-12T17:57:00.000-08:00

It is Saturday. I trust you have prayed for your pastor today, whoever he or she is.

The Need
Tomorrow I'll teach about Jesus being tested in the wilderness. Jesus was tried. He was tempted. This time was not easy for him. This was not a test he had studied for and could just breeze through. It required that he fast, pray and know scripture. Jesus struggled.

If you believe, as I do, that their is a devil who is the enemy of your soul, then what do you think that devil is to those responsible for dozens, hundreds or thousands of souls? He hates pastors, and tests and tries them.

This post is just to remind you that your pastor has probably struggled today. Whoever they are, whatever they spent their day doing, today they had you on their minds and Satan in their face. Today, no matter how they visibly spent their day, they struggled in prayer.

The Opportunity
And so, just as does every Saturday, today offers you a chance to go to prayer for your pastor. Struggle a bit for them. They are struggling for you.

Praying for the World and Playing with Mr. Potato Head

2011-03-11T17:43:00.000-08:00

I often wonder how to pray for the world on a day like today.

Today
I woke with my granddaughter's face against mine, my wife having brought her in to surprise me. After coming downstairs, I got news of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, while playing Mr. Potato Head. I followed the news with concern off and on during the morning, and again this evening. In between I raked leaves in our yard, went to a meeting, scheduled another, then had coffee and ran errands with my wife.

The World Moves On
I remember the day of my father's death, and those which followed. As I traveled the streets of our town, I wondered why the traffic lights were switching from green to red? Why were people out and about? Why did the TV work, and radio broadcasts continue?

Didn't anyone else realize the world had come to an end?

Today felt similar. I knew in my head and heart that in Libya, there is a terrible price being paid by freedom fighters, and in Saudi Arabia protesters are being thwarted by police. I knew that in Japan untold devastation had been unleashed by nature, and Hawaii and other islands, as well as the west coasts of the Americas, could only watch and wait.

But I was playing Mr. Potato Head with my Granddaughter.

World Citizens in the Age of Satellite Communications
What does it look like to love our neighbors? How do we know when to grieve, and when to carry-on? When is my neighbor deserving of my stopping to pray for them?

In these days when the news of disaster outpaces a five-hundred-mile-per-hour wave sprinting across the ocean, it is sometimes hard to know when to act; and when to act as if nothing has happened.

Loving the World While Living in It
So today I prayed for the world. I prayed for those who face trials and suffering, and for the dying. I prayed for those who care for them. I prayed for the church--its leaders and people. I prayed my family members and theirs. I prayed for those I minister to, and those whom I have in the past. In fact this list is only beginning.

And I didn't labor over all of these people. I didn't have to define exactly how the water needed to recede, or when the shaking should stop or just how the people should flee. I spoke the names of people or locations while in the presence of my God. Then, I trusted the Mighty One with the rest.

And these prayers did not require my entire day. I simply stepped aside from people and activity in the morning, at noon and this evening and read (yes read) my prayers, scriptures and Psalms. I'll do so again at bedtime. Maybe an hour for the day. But a rhythm I can settle into and find life within.

I'm thankful to my spiritual director: Sister Mildred. She is the one who put my nose to the grindstone of prayer. She is the one who required me to have "an order." Due to her direction, I found a prayer book that fits my tradition, and now I "pray the hours."

And I pray for the world, while I continue to live in it.

Ash Wednesday: The surprising difficulty

2011-03-10T10:28:00.000-08:00

Last night was one of surprising difficulty.

Death Vigils
There have been times in my life, because I am a pastor, that I have been pushed way beyond my comfort level. I'm not worthy the honor of these hallowed moments. Such as being with dear friends as one hears how many months they have left to live. Or with parents watching their child die after an accident. Or praying with dozens of people as they lived their last hour.

The Words Weren't What Tripped Me
As I prepared for my first real Ash Wednesday--that is to say, one where I imposed ashes to foreheads--I thought about and prayed for many aspects of the service. I prepared the ash and olive oil mixture. Our team planned the songs, scripture readings and the order of service. I got a bowl to hold the ashes, and decided where and how I would impose them.

I found the words which are to be spoken while smearing the mixture on foreheads in the shape of a cross. "Dust you are--And to dust you will return." I wrote them in large letters on a piece of card stock, and placed it at the altar where I'd be able to read it if I got lost.

It Was the People I Love, and To Whom I Spoke Them
The problem first showed up when I told my children about the words: "Dust you are--And to dust you will return." The phrase stuck in my throat. It choked tears from my soul. How would I be able to mark them with the black muddy smudge, and tell them they would die?

And so the service came, and I looked into more than a hundred and twenty sets of eyes and told them they were going to die. I wept while telling these dear friends this hard truth. I sobbed when marking and speaking impending death to my children. I watched mothers eyeing me sadly, as I spoke to their young children--mothers who understood they could do nothing to change the reality of which I spoke. And I knelt, as a friend marked my head, and told me that I would be dust again someday.

Reality
I have lived and benefitted from the season of lent many times. I have never begun in such a low place. This is appropriate.

It amazed me that so many people thanked us for doing this service. So many spoke of the power of the symbol and the words. Several even said "Thank-you" to me through their tears, as they left the altar.

And I realized in a deeper sense than ever: I am a shepherd of mortals. I am a pastor of souls who are eternal. And they want nothing less of me, than that I would speak the truth to them. Even when it makes me shudder.

The Pilgrimage to the Cross Begins

2011-03-09T06:40:00.000-08:00

Last night passed into this day midst a driving rain. The fast is on, and nature weeps with us. Our weeping, let us remember, provides to us what is most lacking. Just as the rains offer our summer-fall parched earth restoration of the life it needs.

Today we begin the pilgrimage to the cross and beyond. No mere Easter-clothes-shopping for those who choose this journey. These are days of repentance. These are days of asking for Christ's reign in our hearts, rather than our own.

O, how reluctantly we release the rule of "our" kingdom.

Humbling, Stunning Introduction
Tonight, I will bow before my fellow journeyers and pray. I will hear the words spoken to me: "Dust you are. And to dust you will return." Then I will speak them to my dearest friends in the world.

I don't like those words. They threaten me. I want to continue believing my flesh is immortal. But it is not.

I need this season of humility. I need this painful grace. Today I stand in the place I do each year...I don't understand well the gift of these days. But if my history is reliable, I will hurt and miss conveniences along a path into new life and strength. I will reach Good Friday, ready to admit my complicity in Jesus' dying.

We Do This Together
In ancient times, when armies were approaching Jerusalem, or when locusts had stolen their crops; when the young people of Israel had been taken captive to foreign lands, and God's people found themselves living as pagans--slaves to their own passions and refusing justice to the poor; a trumpet would sound, and the people would gather. They would declare a fast. They would sprinkle ashes on their heads to publicly testify to their need of repentance, and their desire for God's rescue and reign.

Surely today, where we live and where we lack God's evident presence, surely we can agree we need rescue! We do not approach Calvary alone, we come together and confess, fast and plead with God for his intervention in our living. We pray for our native countries. But first we pray for his church--his people everywhere!

We need renewal.

Why Lenten Fasts? The problem of "Fat Everyday"

2011-03-08T08:56:00.000-08:00

Dark are our thoughts about self-denial. Disappointing oneself on purpose? Why would one deny themselves of what is theirs to take and enjoy?

Pleasing Yourself: The Lie
Where I live, there are billboards with pictures of food. On my TV there are reality shows about destroying others in order to get what you can get; and movies featuring violence against neighbor and desire after one who is not your own. Everywhere there are voices of greed, lust, divisiveness and complaint.

And then midst every moment of every day, news broadcasts are airing our failures. Reporters-turned-editorialists wag fingers at those who have bought into the lie that says, "Deny yourself no pleasure, no profit, no revenge."

Because of our wealth, we are losing our morals; we have lost our once lofty expectations of ourselves...and of one another.

Fat Tuesday or Fat Everyday?
In older times, Lenten self-denial was not necessarily one's own choice. In some places, the religious culture dictated that you would fast--sometimes severely--for forty long days. Remember, these were times when luxuries like sugar, or cakes or chocolate were rare in most lives.

The natural response was to have one last splurge before the dark days of pleasure-lacking. Eventually, the day before lent (which begins with Ash Wednesday) became known as Fat Tuesday. On that day, people took license to eat, drink and be merry without restraint.

In our days, for many of us, there is never a time when we can't afford luxuries for ourselves. Fat Tuesday has become "Fat Everyday." We never lack. And we are honestly offended when someone suggests that a forty day period of self-denial might be good for us. A day without dessert? Surely not!

Fear of Empty Places
And as a result, we have become shallow. Profoundly so. We deeply fear ourselves. That is why we must have noise, people, hustle and bustle happening around us. We fear the void around us when we disconnect from our luxuries. The silence is deafening. The empty stomach makes us sick. The loneliness feels final!

Why Lenten Fasts? Because they help us listen. They draw us to the holy. They force our attention on our selfish places. I plead with you, and myself this day. Do not fear.

Don't fear self-denial. Don't fear the desert. Don't fear the vast universe where we live. Don't fear the God who will meet you, if you will only listen for a while.

My Lenten Re-read of the Year

2011-03-07T11:32:00.000-08:00

As we approach the beginning of the season of Lent, I want to link an article which still speaks volumes to me. Please read the article linked here. It truly speaks to me, and I believe it will you.

Peace to you.

Dealing with Failure

2011-03-06T17:29:00.000-08:00

In mid February, just as I was facing three of the busiest weeks of my winter, I made a crazy promise to myself. I decided to write something here for thirty straight days. And I began.

There were a few decent posts. There were several days when there was little inspiration, but I wrote anyway. It was an exercise I'd been encouraged to try, and so having made the promise, and I kept going.

A few days ago, I passed the halfway point, and having overcome a few fairly formidable obstacles to get there, I was pretty sure I'd make it. That was until I didn't.

The Weekend
On Thursday, I drove five hours north and began an intensive three days. We finished the first night just before midnight. But I managed to get the post out during dinner hour.

Friday was a twenty hour work day. We finished at two AM Saturday Morning. However, during a brief break in the afternoon, I tapped in a couple of short paragraphs, and fulfilled my duty...poorly.

Good place for a question. Is a thirty day writing exercise truly beneficial if you are writing drivel? Not sure. But write I did. Thus, through Friday the string was intact.

Failure
Yesterday morning, after four hours of sleep, I moved with passion into the final, and most important morning of the event I was working. A lifetime of commitment to ministry, trumped a thirty day commitment to write.

Doing ministry over the weekend became my sole, and my soul focus. Fifty hours after arriving at the event site, I got in my car and headed for home. And then I began to refocus on today's ministry.

As I drove home through a heavy snow, I prayed and talked through my Sunday message and some logistics of the today's service with my wife. I made a few phone calls, and even pulled the car into an internet hot spot where my wife could email a file to someone standing by at the church.

When I got home, I took a turn at vacuuming the last of some water from the basement floor, then schlepped my bag upstairs, pulled out my prayer book and finished the day. Sleep hit me like a long longed-for embrace and the night flew by in sweet rest.

Saturday had passed, and no post was sent, nor was one thought of.

Success
And today, my thirty day goal is toast. My writing is most likely the same as it was in mid-February when I began this journey. But the calling I promised myself to when I was a teenaged boy is still intact.

When we fail at something in life, what should we do you? Quit? Claim that we indeed are failures? I don't think so. When failures come in life, they are not final, unless you choose to quit.

See you tomorrow.

Weary Wonders

2011-03-04T20:37:00.001-08:00

My eyes are a bit heavy. My heart is light.

Nine gifted and enthusiastic couples have poured their hearts into worship planning, group exercises, interviews, counseling appointments, simulated planting situations and entrusting themselves to God's future. These are incredibly talented and experienced families ready to go and work for a dime on the dollar of their marketable value.

And now we are 3 & 1/2 hours into our team assessment. And halfway done. And it is 11:30 PM. Lovin' it!

Ministry Leaders and Seekers

2011-03-03T19:27:00.001-08:00

This morning, Shelly and I packed our bag and drove five hours north. Beginning in an hour, I will meet with nine couples who are considering a very significant change of direction in their lives of service. My job, along with five other assessors, is to help them discern what is best and what is next.

This is a weighty responsibility and I would be grateful for your prayers.

The Team
It was so exciting to be in the room as my fellow assessors arrived. Most of us are acquainted and have worked together before in various ways. This is a group committed to the nine couples whom we will serve over the next forty-eight hours. The passion and enthusiasm in the room was catching.

From previous experience, over the next couple of days I can expect to witness laughter, tears, frustration, joy and about everything in between. In the years ahead, I can expect to hear of kingdom breakthroughs made by those with whom we will begin working tonight.

Church Leadership
There are few groups I've had the privilege of being with who are more enthusiastic than a group of pastors and church leaders. I'm encouraged already. And we've only had our orientation meeting.

In a sense, whenever we gather, all of us are looking for direction and encouragement. And when we gather in our Lord's presence, as has already begun next to this frozen lake in Southern Michigan, such help is always available.

Peace to you.

Some Thoughts from The Runaway Pastor

2011-03-02T10:50:00.000-08:00

Thirty Day Posting Challenged May Be Challenged
I'm a bit past the halfway point of posting on my blog for thirty days straight. Tomorrow I am traveling to MIchigan to participate in a New Church Specialties Church Planter's Assessment Center. Say that five times, fast.

I'm not sure whether we will have internet at that location. I know I won't have much time to write. However, a commitment is a commitment! So I will write daily and post if able. If I'm without service, I'll upload my posts when I arrive back home Saturday evening.

Infrequent Advertisement
Here are some ways you can help me at this blog:
1.) If you have not already, you can sign on as a "follower."
2.) You can sign-up to the "feed" services which will send you an email anytime a new post is put up on The Runaway Pastor.
3.) You can comment here, at the blog, rather than on facebook or via email. (I love to hear your comments any place to record them, but it just creates more of a community if you post comments here.)
4.) You can click a response at the bottom of each post. This is simple, but shows some more interest in the site.
5.) When there is a post that you especially like or think is important, you can always click on the "Share this on Facebook," button toward the top on the right side. And, if you are a Twit/Tweeter, you can "Tweet this" in the same location.

Surprising Following
Although I don't check the following as often as I used to, this blog is growing in its readership. There are regular hits from more than twenty countries. Following a recent post with international implications, I had over one hundred and seventy-five "hits" from a single country in Europe.

Thank you for coming by here, and for letting your friends know when I say something you think they'd like. Of course, I receive no remuneration for this writing. It is simply a place I can practice, or at least make some cyber-noise. And now and then, I mention my novel.

Today's Slavery, Sex Trafficking and You

2011-03-01T10:20:00.000-08:00

"Once a young teen is bought and paid for, they are drugged and made addicts. Then, they can be forced to do as their owner wants. Pictures of their sister or parents from back home are used to threaten them. 'You smile and act like you enjoy it all, or we can get to your family.'"

Last week I had the chance to spend an hour with a friend who as a public official works against human trafficking--read: SLAVERY--in the USA. I was appalled.

Slavery in Our Times and Our Cities
"A girl can be bought for ninety bucks," he said to me. He was being glib to emphasize how common the practice. I thought he meant that a "john" can rent a girl for that. He meant that slave owners can buy girls for that, and rent them three to five thousand times per year until they are "used up." And then they are "granted their freedom, the kind of freedom known to an addict with no education...no way to survive anywhere but on the streets."

Yes, after they are purchased, they are made dependent on drugs, and then forced into the sex industry...by the tens of thousands they are enslaved right now, here in North America. How?

Prostitution Texas Style
One means of exploitation is prostitution. I was told of Cantinas in Texas where 12-18 year-old girls are "rented" ten to fifteen times per night. "They are beaten if they don't make a thousand dollars each day."

At the bar, a beer is $3. But if you buy a beer for one of the girls, a beer is $14. And once you buy 3 or more, you have earned some time with her. You see, prostitution is illegal in Texas. But buying beer for an underaged date, is evidently doable.

By now I was sick to my stomach.

Porn
Pornography is legal. Prostitution is not. "So," my friend asked, "define prostitution for me."

"Sex for money," I answered.

"Right! However," he said, "if your owner gets paid for pictures of you in the act, or if you spend time with a 'john' with live cameras on the internet for money, it's just pornography. And pornography is what drives customers to the human sex trafficking salesmen! Brain wave scans of people who are high on drugs are identical to those of people watching pornography. It is an addiction. As long as pornography is permitted, these children will be bought/sold/exploited."

Middle Class Neighborhood Cells
And then the story got even uglier. "Do you know how easy it is to hide a few teenage girls in a middle class home?" he asked. "The girls are set up in a basement room with a computer and a camera. The door locks from the outside of the room. They chat with "johns" for money. Their owners feed them, buy them drugs and sexy clothes. The teenage girls do their acting for survival."

Human Trafficking
"When you can buy a 12-15 year-old for $90 bucks, you can make a lot of money off of them. And three years later, when they are used-up, you just emancipate them. And that is what slavery is all about...profits for the slaveowner."

My wife has been involved with human trafficking prevention at her workplace for a year or so now. I've appreciated it, but not understood it this well. I hope this painful post will make you more aware of a deplorable and inhumane practice.

And if you have a secret pornography addiction, remember you are exploiting real people. Your habit is not without its victims. And, you are more than likely complicit with human slave trading.

Gardening the World Together

2011-02-28T17:53:00.000-08:00

I just went to our season's first garden meeting. Eight perfectly sane adults plotting plots for their community garden. Like children on Christmas eve, visions of planting, hoeing, watering and harvesting were dancing in our heads. Hope springs eternal.

Leadership
We named a "crop director" to assure proper produce volumes for our local soup kitchen. We offered the position of "flower child," in hopes of beautifying the garden. We looked like adoring parents at pictures of last year's harvest. And we ate chips and salsa...the latter which produce of such meetings last year.

Cooperation
We agreed that each person with a plot, should assist with the community portion of the garden. This is the part that serves the soup kitchen. I remember last year a crop of green beans came on quickly, and I took an hour or so in the noon time heat to gather them. Later that afternoon another member snapped and delivered them to a food pantry.

Kingdom Realities
It seems to me these garden realities are a microcosm of larger dreams. We people of God's kingdom have this crazy idea that the world can change; not only are we "saving souls," we are a part of the Creator saving the world. We believe he wants to set all things right. We are gardening the world together.

There are so many things in life that happen best in community; so many blessings we miss by being lone rangers. If you aren't into gardening, find your niche and chip in with a community to accomplish something. There are things we can do together which just won't happen solo. And so it is with the Kingdom of God and the church.

The Other Side of the Struggle: Sunday Joys

2011-02-27T18:04:00.000-08:00

If Saturday evenings brings "soul flu" to this pastor, Sunday brings healing. It's amazing to me the relief and joy that I feel the moment I'm with the people from our congregation. Even before the pressure of delivering the sermon is relieved, the presence of the people at our church brings me joy.

Good Day
Today was such a day. Immediately after entering the building, I asked a young man if he could speak with me for a moment. I issued him a huge challenge. I asked him to add another one hour meeting to his week, to commit to reading 25 chapters of scripture each week and then to meeting with me for a time of prayer, discussion of what we'd read and then a series of heavy accountability questions. He immediately said "Yes."

Walking through the various areas of the church, I was encouraged by the way people were loving one another. Before the worship service, two men prayed for me. And during the service, I felt free and strong. Delivering my sermon felt...well, it just felt right.

There is a friend at church who says, " I love it when you struggle with your sermons on Saturday, because it means we will hear something we need on Sunday.

The Other Side of the Struggle
So, after the moaning about how tough it is to deliver a sermon last weekend, and after telling you about "Saturday night fever" last night; I thought it appropriate to let you in on the good side of things.

There is nothing like Sunday afternoon, when all has gone well, and I've spoken the words which needed said; and all of us have responded as we needed to.

It's Sunday night, and I'm feeling relieved and fortunate to serve the people of my congregation. I think I'll sleep well.

Saturday Night Fever

2011-02-26T17:31:00.000-08:00

It's Saturday night. And I have what I sometimes call the "soul flu," it's a common Saturday malady for me.

A pastor friend posted this description on his facebook yesterday:

"God has given me an important message for Sunday. Problem is I haven't found the words to deliver it yet. Just a weight right now is the only way for me to describe it. I could use prayer."

This is how I described sermon delivery last Sunday night:

"They hurt while they form inside of you. They can make you feel sick. They make you doubt your ability to produce them. They stretch and push the limits of the bone and sinew of your soul."

For Those of You Who Have Pastors
I guess this is a post for those of you who have pastors or priests. Pray for them tonight. Saturday nights, even if they don't have Saturday evening services, are not laid-back or relaxing evenings. Your pastor, wherever she or he is, is probably thinking about tomorrow...and feeling quite inadequate.

Controversy Regarding THE RUNAWAY PASTOR, and Its Impact on a Sequel

2011-02-25T08:14:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I mentioned encouragement I often receive regarding my first novel--The Runaway Pastor. I also, however, receive other helpful feedback. Here is what I mean.

What's Missing
Some feel they are left out on a limb in the midst of the storyline. A few who have read the book say they feel betrayed by Trent, the lead character. They are bothered that he passionately seeks to make a failed marriage right. But he seems to make no such effort toward his pursuit of pastoral ministry.

I understand he needs to deal with his calling. This should be addressed in the sequel. But you need to know, that there are many different opinions about how he should or would move forward.

Speaking for the Silent
If you read the reviews on amazon, you will notice that many pastors feel understood. I hear this over and over. I imagine that there are many who feel, as one reviewer indicated, exposed. And some probably feel betrayed.

There are lay people and clergy alike who indicate a strong disrespect for Trent, his running, and what follows. It is beneath the dignity of the calling. Others, via subtle remarks, let me know their disrespect is for me, for airing the issues in such a raw way.

Resolve, and the Bigger Issue
The sequel will need to resolve some of these issues regarding Trent and his marriage, and Trent and his calling. Resolving conflict, however, will not please all readers.

I think the bigger issue is the state of the clergy. And I truly wish more people were interested in the numbers who are leaving ministry and losing marriages.

Following my sabbatical last fall, I have been renewed in passion for my calling. But most have no sabbatical hopes. And many pastors (or their wives) are simply soldiering-on--until the day they can retire, or step away--to avoid the tragedy of running.

How do you want to see Trent choose regarding these issues? What is realistic? What is right? And what is it you would want if you were any of the major characters, or the congregation at Baylor's Bend? What would The Runaway Pastor do?

The Runaway Pastor Who Never Ran

2011-02-24T07:59:00.000-08:00

This week's M11 Conference provided a fresh wind of life to my soul, and no doubt thousands of others who attended. Worship services, seminars and visits with friends were such a great winter pick-up.

A gratifying aspect for me was all of the comments about my book, The Runaway Pastor. I received simple compliments, a few raving thank-you's including one tear-filled embrace of gratefulness. The book has become a tool for providing help in pastors' marriages.

Protagonist and Author: Two Different People
As a new author, it is surprising how many people struggle separating the writer of the novel from the protagonist of the story. People seem to wonder if I had run away from ministry or my wife? It was nice to report both a ministry and a marriage that I love. A ministry and marriage for which I am so grateful.

Painful Realities
It is always sad to hear some of the stories you hear at these events. Pastors who have quit, or who have been "sent away" from ministry, are more and more common. You meet servants who are wounded and hoping to be filled up for "one more go at it."

I guess having written such a story as The Runaway Pastor puts me in a position to hear stories--stories of depression or of wanting to quit, as well as stories of those who can't believe anyone would struggle in those ways. I felt like a magnet to such conversations this week.

Of all things, I'm most grateful to hear again and again those testimonies saying the book has been a help for pastors' marriages. That alone is worth it all.

Tomorrow: Why I need to Write a Sequel

Pentecost's strength is passing, and must ever be sought anew...

2011-02-23T18:53:00.000-08:00

The night moves in quietly around me. Life is here in this room, comforting and illusive. Pentecost's strength is passing, and must ever be sought anew in the mines of prayer.

Convention Motivations
M11 has been a powerful wind in my sails. I've been to enough conventions to know, however, that ideas come and go. Passions rise and fall. Methods are here today, and replaced tomorrow.

But there are movings within that require more than seminar attention, or a brief flurry of action after returning home. These demand obedience over the long haul.

Prayer Continues
And so again tonight I take the book of prayer from my briefcase, and worship in the privacy of this room in my host's home. I come before the Mighty One and seek.

Strength moves in quietly around me. Necessary strength is here in this room, comforting now, and needed for my tomorrows. But tomorrow's strength will be mined in the place of prayer tomorrow, yet again and again, once more.

There is no reservoir in which to store Pentecost. I'll need come to seek the upper room first thing tomorrow, and then throughout my days, forever, while here. Pentecost's strength is passing, and must ever be sought anew in the mines of prayer.

Home Away from Home

2011-02-22T04:55:00.000-08:00

It's morning. Spent the night with some extended family in Louisville. Dinner together sort of--at different times according to the American way.

I'm attending the M11 Conference here. Today I will begin again walking from room to room in the bowels of an unfamiliar conference center. I'll hope to pick-up Truth in each gathering, and I'll enjoy seeing friends I've not seen in so very long.

The worship service last night was excellent. The music was from scripture and scripture was woven through each song and between each song. The preaching was mighty--think powerful African American speaker with the lofty promises of Ezekiel 36-37. I was encouraged in my quiet way; while the congregation was encouraged in a noisier way. It was good.

The highlight of the evening. The best moment--beyond the long missed friends and hugs and masterful sermon--came earlier in the service. We were asked to gather for prayer in groups of two or three. I had gone alone, and so I gathered with those near my seat.

When the man named David across from me began to pray, there was music in my soul. Somehow his simple and familiar vocabulary allowed me to comprehend each Spanish word and phrase. I had never met him. We were brothers. Within me, I wanted to tell him so.

His prayer closed with, "Thank you for these brothers of mine, our Lord." And as the crowd dispersed, I didn't have the opportunity to speak again with him. Perhaps I never will. But the truth of our brotherhood will remain.

I'm here with people I know and people I don't. And along the way, as I miss my family and friends, I realize that I'm home, away from home.

The (in)significance of a pastor?

2011-02-21T07:57:00.000-08:00

Maybe it's the rain. Maybe it's the saying good-bye. And maybe it's just that I'm feeling a bit too necessary. Today I leave for a three-day conference. I know it will be beneficial to my spirit. I know I will learn. But I always hate to leave home and office.

Pastors are "Vain" and "Lazy?"
Eugene Peterson writes poignantly to pastors. In his book, The Unnecessary Pastor, he and co-author Marva Dawn deconstruct many myths regarding the pastor's role.

My favorite of Peterson's books, however, is entitled: The Contemplative Pastor. Here he shames clergy for their self-importance. He charges that we stay incessantly busy because we are vain and we are lazy. Ouch! What can this mean?

We want to be seen as busy and as vital to every cog in church and community activities. We want to impress people with our work ethic. We want people to be amazed at how many things we can do well, and how we seem to show up at every crisis.

What a Contemplative Pastor Looks Like
Pastoring, according to Peterson, should be something very different. Pastors should pray, preach and listen. More specifically, we should pray on an intimate level. We should preach after being drenched in scripture and prayer. And we should listen out of unhurried leisure. "Leisure," says Peterson, "is a quality of spirit, not a quantity of time." Hmmm.

An Allegory from Melville (long quote from The Contemplative Pastor)
"In Herman Melville's Moby Dick, there is a turbulent scene in which a whaleboat scuds across a frothing ocean in pursuit of the great, white whale, Moby Dick. the sailors are laboring fiercely, every muscle taut, all attention and energy concentrated on the task...In this boat, however, there is one man who does nothing. He doesn't hold an oar; he doesn't perspire; he doesn't shout. He is languid in the crash and the cursing. This man is the harpooner, quiet and poised, waiting. And then this sentence: "To insure the greatest efficiency in the dart, the harpooners of this world must start to their feet out of idleness, and not out of toil.

"....The metaphors Jesus used for the life of ministry are frequently images of the single, the small, and the quiet, which have effects far in excess of their appearance: salt, leaven, seed...It is, then, a strategic necessity that pastors deliberately ally themselves with the quiet, poised harpooners, and not leap, frenzied, to the oars."

Implications
Is there even a chance that any of us who are called pastors would be willing to practice such a style of ministry? Would it work? Would we remain employed? Peterson claims that he dropped out of the hustle, and into contemplation, and found that no one noticed.

What it is like to deliver a sermon

2011-02-20T17:47:00.001-08:00

It's Sunday night. I'm tired and ready for rest. But the day has been good, and I am so grateful for the honor of what I do.

Most people look forward to Friday night as the end of a week of work. I look forward to this night, even though tomorrow is a work day. Sunday is the day of sermon delivery, and unless you've spent several years delivering weekly sermonic offspring, you probably can't understand.

Delivery is a Good Word for It
When it comes to sermons, delivery is a good word for how they are given. Sermons are not spoken. They are not merely read. And sermons are not presented. Sermons are delivered. Like children are delivered.

They hurt while they form inside of you. They can make you feel sick. They make you doubt your ability to produce them. They stretch and push the limits of the bone and sinew of your soul. Sermons are not mere speeches written and read. They are life, formed within you, then they pass through you at great personal pain.

Birth-Like
Yet a well delivered sermon can leave you full of joy. When those to whom you speak truly receive your offspring, there is a great sense of obedience.

But always, the process humbles and forces one to plead for assistance. There are never lonelier moments than those of the sermon giver going to the place of delivery. No one can understand. No one.

And when the last words are shoved out of your spirit, leaving you fatigued--even after a seemingly quiet and peaceful delivery, there is nothing sweeter than rest. And a little bit of revelry in the fact that you will not do this again for another seven days.

Choosing the Corner Into Which You Want to Paint Yourself: Life Change

2011-02-19T10:35:00.000-08:00

I've been writing about life change and about new beginnings. Today let's consider choosing the corner into which you want to paint yourself. How will life change be brought about in your living?

Here is a quick lesson in how to begin painting yourself into a corner.

Beginnings: Getting Specific
So what are you hoping to begin? A new lifestyle of exercise? Becoming serious about praying, meditating or reading scripture? What do you need to begin? Be specific and choose your corner.

Know Your Goal
Write it down very specifically. "I want to pray two times per day for ten minutes." Or, "I want to become a healthy person by weighing no more than _____, and by being able to run/walk/hike/trek/ski _____ amount by _______ date."

Look at the Price Tag
Jesus taught those wanting to follow him that they should first count the cost. Few sales people want us to do this. But Jesus was all about being honest up front.

If you have decided what it is you'd like to accomplish next in your life, here's a good place to start. Consider what it will cost you.
--It will cost you some freedoms. Write them down.
--It may cost you some money. Write those costs down.
--Change will cost you some serious will power. Write down some examples of when and where you will need that.
--You will need to learn about how to accomplish your goal. Write down how you will research this.

Now, look at the price tag. Think about it. Are you willing to commit to that price?

If you are willing to pay the price in order to meet your goal, then record your goal. Tell a supportive friend and ask them to encourage you along the way.

Welcome to "In the Mean Time"
And now, welcome to the mean time. You have not arrived. You will not for a long time. You are in the in-between-time, and this is where you will be tried and tested. And this is where you will have failures. And this is where you can live in gratefulness for your free will. And this is also where you will succeed, if you will only stay here.

Beginning, Remaining and Being Grateful

2011-02-18T08:45:00.000-08:00

Years ago, I married my dear wife, and we began a home...the process of making a life together. Just now, I put my grandchild down for a nap after a morning of fun with her. I cherished the brief cuddle before placing her in her bed. And what of the in-between times?

Those have been times of remaining.

Most of Life
It seems to me that most of our life is spent in remaining. Our days are marked with beginnings. Where I live, we will soon plant spring gardens. And planting will mark only the beginning.

An ancient teacher and Christian scripture writer said that he had learned to be content no matter his circumstances. I guess that is what I am seeing to know.

Planting a seed is a mere matter of poking it into the earth. But the toils which follow are worked out midst hotter, more humid days--days of pulling weeds, swatting mosquitos, hoeing and watering. Long hours of sweat are given for each moment of planting and each taste of harvest. They are days of remaining.

Most of life is spent "in the mean time." Most of our time is invested in the process of remaining.

Harvests and Gratefulness
The days come at the end of growing cycles when we reap harvests from our gardens. Our planting and our remaining reap dividends at last. These are days of gratefulness. It is easy to be thankful with a counter mounded with fresh produce. Harvests are a natural time to be grateful.

But what about the in between times?

Here's the Trick!
I'm learning to be grateful for the process. To enjoy the remaining. To be thankful "in the mean time." Between the planting and the harvest, there is a miracle happening. A seed is reproducing itself in a most helpful and self-sacrificial way. We are given the blessing of weeding, hoeing and watering to help the miracle along.

If you cannot enjoy the trickle of sweat on your back, the sun on your face and the ache after bending--and carrying--and yanking a hoe through stubborn soil; then you are not cut out to be a gardener.

The trick is to enjoy the process. The joy is in the journey--as much as it is in the dreaming before, and arriving later at the destination. Gratefulness cannot be reserved for "some day." It is to be ours today!

I'll Be Happy When...
So when will you be happy? At what point will you be able to drop your somedays, and rejoice in your todays?

My granddaughter is sleeping peacefully. My beautiful wife is with me enjoying this day off. My son is throwing his unique dignity into new a piece of pottery. My daughter is passionately teaching a classroom of children. My son-in-law is finishing a Master's Degree on his way to being an excellent school counselor.

And I am counting the joys in the midst of life. There are many beginnings behind and before me. I pray there are many finishes and harvests ahead. But in this "mean time," I am remaining.

And after my beginnings and before my harvests--as I stand remaining in the mean time, I am learning to be grateful.

Painting Myself Into a Corner: On Purpose

2011-02-17T19:00:00.000-08:00

OK. So yesterday I decided to do a blog post here thirty days in a row. And today I left for Indianapolis very early so I could attend an all-day seminar, and then a dinner with friends.

Anything But Convenient
Sometimes our commitments are anything but convenient! Tonight, at nine-thirty PM, my thirty day commitment is staring me in the face. That's what commitments are for. They are not intended to be easy. They are intended to be in your face. They are a way of you getting into your own face. That's why they call it self-discipline, I suppose.

Exercise commitments put us in places where we are required to do what is not comfortable. So are marriage commitments. So is any relationship worth having. Things of value in your life will rarely be convenient or cheap. And we all must choose what will be of value to us...or risk not knowing things and relationships of value.

New Beginnings
There have been many new beginnings in my life. There were times when I committed to praying or reading scripture more often, losing weight, exercising, being a better husband, spending more time with my children, taking classes toward another degree, moving to a new congregation to care for a new set of people...and the list could go on and on.

Each beginning was made with enthusiasm and a sense of determined commitment. It seemed that all I could see was the up-side of the promise. Yet soon came a moment of truth. This was a time when I was forced to choose between current ease, and longterm accomplishment.

Failing
Here's the kicker. In my life, when it comes to diet, exercise and many other commitments; I've failed more often than I've succeeded. I've started exercising many more times than I've accomplished a successful habit. I've begun spiritual disciplines and dropped them literally hundreds of times.

But I think that failure is only failure if you decide to cave-in for good.

One More Day
Well, I've sat with my word processor for about 20 minutes now. I've written something that at least makes sense to me at the end of a long day. And maybe I'm the only one who cares. But I've kept a promise for one more day.

Now I can go pray and sleep knowing I'm still in this thing.

Peace to you.

Beginning a New Thing: Exercise

2011-02-16T08:49:00.000-08:00

Fits and Starts
About ten years ago, I decided to begin exercising. I was beginning a new thing. What I mean is, I decided to make exercise a regular part of my life. And so I started, and stopped an started again. Many times.

There were injuries and illnesses and habits long ingrained that offered great resistance to my plan. I would jog a few times in a week. And then I would get really busy with my job or family. And soon, I'd be three weeks into not exercising. Then three months. Who was I trying to kid? "I'm just not on of those health nuts!" I kept rationalizing.

Inspiration
One spring day a few years later, I drove three hours north of our home to sit with a friend who's father was having surgery. I was there for support. It was an all day thing. It was a day when I knew I'd not have time to exercise. But the day changed my life.

I spent a few hours in a hospital waiting room with a stocky lawyer who appeared less in shape than me. He told me he ran marathons. He told me his secret was to never cause himself pain. What?

Never Cause Yourself Pain
He explained that if you run too fast or too far, you will hate jogging and soon you'll quit. But if you go slowly and set small goals, soon you'll enjoy the process. "Get comfortable shoes," he said. "And just enjoy."

And so I did. I began to run--no--I began to slowly jog short distances in comfortable shoes. I never allowed myself to get winded. (I loved that rule!) It was never hard to breath. If it started to get hard, I slowed down or stopped. I just kept my eye on the prize of good health.

Challenged!
About a year after I began this painless process, a friend asked me to train with him to run the mini-marathon (13.1 miles) the next spring. The event was six or seven months away, and after a few weeks, I went online and signed-up--even though I could not run more than two miles at the time. I doubted I would follow-through. However, I went to the bookstore hoping against hope that I could do this thing! I bought a book called MARATHONING FOR MORTALS. And I began to train.

Each Sunday, a group of five or six of us from church would go to a flat, paved trail and slowly jog together. At first we did a mile. Five months later, only a week or so before the event, we jogged nine and a half miles. I had never run that far in my life. And the mini-marathon would be three and a half miles further. Yet now, I knew I could do it!

My Goals for the Race
I set two goals for the mini-marathon. My first goal was to finish. Second, I wanted to jog the entire way...no walking. I didn't care if grandmothers flew past me. (And some, no doubt did.) I knew my pace, and I knew I could do this.

Perhaps the single most fulfilling day of my life was the day I ran the Indianapolis Mini-Marathon. Two hours and thirty-one minutes after I began, I finished. And I had only begun.

Six Years Later
Today I continue to push myself to exercise. I enjoy trekking/hiking in hills and mountains. I don't cause myself pain. But I miss the workouts when I'm not able to do them. Exercise is my friend.

A lawyer convinced me to make fitness a part of my life--instead of an occasional fetish--when I was in my mid forties. Today, I weigh thirty-five pounds fewer than when I started. I weigh five pounds less than when I ran the mini. I get sick less often, and find exercise to be free therapy for tough times.

What About You?
In what areas do you need inspiration? What single challenge has you intimidated? Where do you assume you are stuck? Feel free to feedback here.

In my next post, I hope to apply some of this to other challenges in life. In fact, I've challenged myself to increase my writing. I plan to post something here every day for the next thirty. It's my new thing. What's yours?

How do you write a book?

2011-02-15T13:03:00.000-08:00

There have been several people to ask me the question: "How do you write a book?" I suppose there are many ways to answer that question. I'm going to give you mine.

ME, AN AUTHOR?
I have always enjoyed taking a few days during a vacation to write. Often I'd simply begin writing the story of a person in some difficult situation. Usually I'd trail on for five pages, or fifty, then run out of time.

When I wrote The Runaway Pastor, it was much the same. I sat down one evening with the question on my mind: What would happen if a pastor ran away and hid from his life? What if?

And so I began writing. I finished writing the first few pages or so, and decided to keep them. Later that evening, I wrote a bit more. When prompted to name the file, I called it "Trent's Very Bad Day."

THE OBSESSION
Honestly, Trent's story became an obsession for me. I seemed to constantly wonder, "What going to happen next?" The story of The Runaway Pastor leapt from my mind one briskly written sentence after another. I couldn't stop the story or the characters. They kept acting. I kept writing.

And that is how the book came to be. That is how I best answer the question: "How do you write a book?"

SEQUEL?
I have begun work on a sequel for The Runaway Pastor. In fact, I have about seven starts. I like them all. But no one of them pesters me to keep creating. After writing about a chapter's worth, the characters seem to go away. I don't go to sleep wondering what will happen next.

MY PROBLEM WITH FOREKNOWLEDGE
And here is the ugly truth: Unlike the first book, I already know how this one will end. I know what will happen in the middle in order for that end to become reality. And I have several starts to get me on my way.

This knowledge defines my writer's block problem. For me, a story is exciting only so long as its conclusion is uncertain. Evidently, where there is no mystery, I am no author.

Looking for the mystery.

Egyptian Transitions from Beneath the Ironing Board

2011-02-10T11:06:00.000-08:00

I was too small to see the top of the ironing board, but knew she was weeping as she pushed the iron across it. I understood better when I watched the black and white scene of a young boy saluting as his father's casket rolled by. I can still hear the horse hooves. To this day that sound hits me with a mixed sense of regal and tragic.

And then, as I continued to grow up, I remember two other assassins and their victims. Black and white, and wondered to myself if important people would be able to live any more.

I remember dancing with my infant children as Eastern Europe's wall fell, and as people teemed through its widening seems. And I wondered how the world would work with such desperate need meeting such complacent plenty.

I think this day will be such a memory. Trying to work at my office while listening to the BBC depict the events in Cairo, where I walked just three short months ago.

We like to think we know how history should turn. We may even believe we know best. But as one who prays multiple times each day: "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven," I am observing as a little one. I'm trusting in the hand of God, the wisdom of his ways and the strength of his people.

Who knew that the "Godless Communists" would have held onto faith midst such dark realities? Who knew the wall fell that relational and spiritual wealth would not flow West to East alone?

And who knows but what God's Kingdom may yet have a chance of becoming reality among us? Why, after all, do we pray for it, if we are going to cower and groan when our world changes shape in ways we cannot control? We can't even see the top of the ironing board.

A Pro Life Check-Up

2011-01-20T08:57:00.000-08:00

This Sunday is Sanctity of Human Life Sunday. Can followers of Jesus find agreement in the value of human life? Not usually.

Picture, if you can bear to do so, these realities.

She walks into the sterile procedure room and prepares herself to sacrifice her child. Whatever her reasons, she is free to do so. And we grieve alongside her.

He shuffles, legs tied in chains, as he enters the chamber to receive the lethal injection. Whatever the reasons, the state is free to do so. And we grieve for his family, and that of his victim.

She holds her husband's hand as she drinks the physician prescribed lethal cocktail--ending her own life. Whatever the reasons, in some places, she is free to do so. And we grieve her loss.

He goes to sleep holding his stuffed animal, not knowing the plane will drop bombs on his house and he won't wake up again. Whatever the reasons, the pilot was sent to do so. We grieve for the boy and his family.

Chances are, depending on your leanings, you have been known to celebrate, rather than grieve two of the four losses mentioned here. Which ones? Well that would depend on your political party.

But may we agree, that each loss above is worthy of our sorrow? May we agree, that life is to be valued? When we pray, "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done..." may we agree that there is a higher way than those of our earthly kingdoms?

I fear not.

Changing 2011? Or, Are You Stuck?

2011-01-10T11:05:00.000-08:00

Are you spiritually stuck?

Is change more and more difficult for you to achieve? It's a new year! 2011 is here, and you have already chosen to some degree what you expect from it--and what you will become in it.

I'm a guy who has been known to spin his wheels into some pretty serious ruts. So here is some thinking I've been doing, which has positively effected my praying and my "being."

Have you been framed?
My district pastor recently wrote about a magazine article titled: “Ready to Change? Reaching your goals in 2011”. Tim Talevich, the article's author interviews J.D. Roth and Todd Nelson, producers of the hit TV series, “The Biggest Loser”, now in its 11th season.

The article says the series is about “... people who have somehow found themselves off the track in life, yet tapped an inner strength to change.”

One of the contestants, a former Viet Nam vet who injured his knees and over time had gained over two hundred pounds, told Roth and Nelson that even though he desperately wanted to lose weight, there were subtle, underlying forces not to. He said, “Most people are like a picture in a frame, never changing. You get comfortable with that picture, because it’s always the same.”

Have you been framed? Do you look at the picture of your spiritual life and say, I've never been able to pray. I've never been faithful. I've never ________.

The "Thought--Word--Reality Maker."
I've been teaching about "logos" for the past couple of weeks. A guy named John, who was a friend of Jesus, tells the story of creation in the most poetic way. He says that the Logos, which is God, created everything.

Logos means a "word which comes from the thinking process." In reality, most of our words come from our thinking. "Out of the overflow of the mind, a man speaks," said the writer of Proverbs.

So John is saying something like this. Before there was anything, God thought it and then spoke it, and it was created. This matches Genesis' story of creation: "And God said, let there be light. And there was light..."

Does being created in God's image indicate anything regarding the power of our words?
Disclaimer: It is important to remember that we do not create in the way God does. We may fashion, or bring things about. But we cannot make something out of nothing in the way that God can.

However, what we think and speak has power. Does the plant kingdom have this capability? No. The animal kingdom? Not so much. But we, as humans created in the image of God, can think thoughts and fashion new realities. For good. Or for evil.

Like Israel's David: He thinks poetically about a shepherd, then speaks and writes the poem we call the 23rd Psalm. The image has impacted our understanding of God for thousands of years.

Or, he thinks about the beauty of another man's wife, he speaks to his peons about bringing her to the palace, and then commits adultery and murder. The world is changed.

John Kennedy thought, then spoke the space program into hyperdrive. Adolf Hitler thought and spoke hatred into the masses, and created hell on earth. And you own thoughts right now about who you are in relation to God. You're thinking, speaking and fashioning your own spiritual reality.

2011 Prescription
Focus on this for a few mornings and bedtimes, and try believing it.

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.
Ephesians 3:17-21 (New International Version, ©2010)

What are you thinking about?
What are you talking about?
What are you bringing about???

Winter Wonders Never Cease

2011-01-08T15:11:00.000-08:00

I've spent the last month trying to talk myself out of it. The thought keeps presenting itself, and I continually dismiss it as ludicrous. I can no longer. So, I'm going on record. Let it be said, that at least for this year, winter is my favorite season. My reasons:

1) You can see through the trees. I live in a forest, and in the winter I can see beyond the vegetation that surrounds us on every side. Deer, rushing streams and the night sky become visible neighbors in the winter.

2) I own my favorite hiking trails. I hike in the state park adjacent to my property. I hike hundreds of miles a year here, and during this season, I can hike for hours seeing and hearing only wildlife and the wind in the treetops.

3) Sweat-free hiking. Winter provides me the opportunity to pile on the layers, work hard in the hills--huffing and puffing past non-stop beauty without getting hot. In fact, usually I ditch the gloves before I'm finished, even in sub freezing temps.

4) No snakes. I like that too.

5) Snow. On a good year, like this one, there is a beautiful white accent lacing the forest and hills around me. We have been fortunate to have more than the average amount of snow this year, along with a colder than normal winter. These enhance the breathtaking views where I live, work and hike. The white also keeps the trail bright after dark, extending the normally darker season. Though I don't do them all every year, there are many fun things to do in the snow: sledding, skiing, hiking, snow shoeing and skitching to name a few. Ever skitched?

6) The air seems more fresh. Right now it's about nineteen degrees Fahrenheit outside. Perfect. Makes you feel alive. Hot tubs are unbearable when the temperature is above twenty.

7) Night skies. Night time skies are not the same in the spring, summer or fall as on a cold winter night. I can step outside and take a few steps down the hill around my home and be submerged in a sky so inky dark, I feel I can touch the stars.

8) German Shepherd weather. My shepherd is in a great mood all winter. She lays and plays in a falling snow, runs through the woods just for the joy of the sprint; and unless it is way colder than it is now, she'll always greet me between the car and the front door. She's built for it.

9) Wood Stove. My furnace hasn't been on this winter. Around here they say that "burnin' wood'll het you twiced." This means that when you split the wood you get warm, as well as when you burn it. I would say that it will heat you a lot more than that. The wood heats you when you cut it, move it, split it, stack it, move it to stack it again in the carport, move it into the house before burning, when you put it in the stove and it pours out the heat AND when you sit and look at it glow and burn.

10) More family time. Winter holds the "holiday season." People seem to shut down their lives earlier in the evening. I allow myself more evenings at home in the winter, and it's just easier to gather with friends and family. Winter is a "warm" season in so many ways.

Well, there are many more, but you get the idea. I've lived in winter free zones. I loved the people there, and truly love the desert. But life without winter seems to be...well, lacking.

Seeing Stars

2011-01-03T17:50:00.000-08:00

The ancient poet sings:

The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies proclaim the works of his hands...
(Psalm 19:1)

I've just stepped outside of my cabin to hear the shouting. Raving mad stars are exclaiming God's glory. Brightest white points on solid black velvet sky. Darkness and light equally breathtaking, puzzlingly enchanting. They speak the language of glory--a language of which I know precious little. Is there anyone who studies or speaks this tongue? I want to know them, to learn from them.

My German shepherd leans into my thigh, looking up at me for some answer to her longings. Wanting nothing more than tender words and a scratch behind the ear. I give what I can, but own no glory. Does her soul ache? Does it see stars, and want to know their maker, or can she merely see the nighttime forest of oaks she flawlessly navigates at full speed?

Give me a heart, I pray. Give me a heart that can navigate glory and live to tell it. And give me a tongue able to describe the truth. We need to know that we live in a grander place than we can imagine. Scratch my ears, speak tender words. Just don't leave me alone beneath the glory, then force me to go back inside where it is warm, and I can survive the elements.

My soul sees and longs. Please Night, make noise with your song--form words. Yet even the silent shooting star that seems to linger, frozen in the bitter cold of this night, does not satisfy.

The heavens are declaring the glory of God. O for ears to hear what my eyes can see they are saying.

O, to be a poet on Sunday mornings

2010-12-29T12:46:00.000-08:00

I've been marinating in a familiar text, as if I'd never seen it before. John's famous prologue--John 1:1-18--is amazing. We read this as if it is old news, but check this out.
The NIV, NKJV and KJV all translate John 1:1 like this:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

Good news. A bit mysterious. But not nearly as far-out as John originally said it.

This past fall, as we traveled throughout Europe, we visited dozens of cathedrals and churches. Often, as in Michaelangelo's Sistine Chapel painting, God is depicted as an old, ye powerful and wizened man. White beard and all. These paintings were done in order to instruct and help us understand Bible stories and truths.

The same anthropomorphic teaching is written into some God-descriptions of the Old Testament. We read of God's right hand, of God's holy arm, or of God's eyes or face. We also read of God sheltering us under wings, and of God riding on clouds. These are not intended to be literal. They are ways that limited language can represent an unlimited God.

Yet, I fear these images, if we are not careful, can dampen our maturing comprehension of the person and presence of God. When God said there should be no graven images, perhaps this is what was to be avoided.

In the movie CONTACT, Jodi Foster plays the role of a woman who is chosen to travel into space where she sees some incredible, indescribable scene. Enraptured and unable to express the awe of what she takes in, she stammers: "No, no words. No words. Indescribable....They should have sent a poet."

In my thinking, John's prologue is such poetry. Listen to one literal translation of John 1:1 as taken from the original Greek. "In the beginning, was the SAYING, and the SAYING was toward God, and the SAYING was God." Now the word "SAYING" here is the Greek word "logos." It has also been translated as "mind," or "Word."

And so at creation, the Logos/mind/Word/Saying is speaking creation into existence. Compare Genesis and John here. God hovers over chaos and speaks light, and life and order into being. Consider the angel's message to Mary in the familiar Christmas story, the Spirit will "hover" over you, and your child will be called the Son of God."

This Sunday, I hope to open minds to mystery...the kind of mystery that says some indescribable energy--which we know as God, and we know is LOVE--is speaking grace and truth to us. And that in a very visible and touchable Jesus, we have seen what is the truth of this mysterious and mighty God. And that same hovering, mystery who speaks life and light into existence, speaks children of God into existence as well.

This Sunday, if for only few moments, I long to be a poet.

Reflecting on a Sabbatical: Part One

2010-12-16T07:31:00.000-08:00

Journaled on Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Many have been asking me if I enjoyed my trip, or if we had a nice vacation. I can only answer with a "Yes." However, if I have time to speak with those who ask--I mean, if I have the time to sit down and look them in the eye long enough for each of us to see beyond the haze of cliche--then I can speak truth to them. The past three and one half months have been the most grueling and wonderfully transforming months I've ever lived.

I've never treated a journey with such reverence. I treasured each day of our recent sabbatical as a gift of life, not of place. So coming home has not seemed a desertion of pleasure, but a continuing of the sojourn. It has not been a disappointing return to the "same old." I have returned to a place I've never been. Same house, same job, same cars and dogs and bills. Different me.

I treasure the Italian apartment we called home for six weeks of our fourteen week, four-continent trip. But I don't long to be back there, in the way I have pined in times past for some surf-side beach chair. What Christ accomplished there, I am experiencing here, now, today--beside the fire in my home. And I benefitted from it earlier today as I encouraged a parishioner who is grieving, and yesterday in a nursing facility while ministering to a friend who has had yet another stroke.

The peace of Christ which is beyond understanding has worked in and through me. And that peace could not have been found on a three week vacation. It required entering daily into the mine of prayer. Daily, over the course of months. (This has not stopped). Finding peace required much confession and loving counsel. Peace was not gained like some loaf of bread to be picked up on aisle one. Peace emerged in tiny nuggets--minute, yet treasured fragments of authenticity and truth; extracted from massive boulder-sized frustration, selfish ambition, grief, and even some unknown resentment that I had been carefully and diligently sweeping under the rug of my psyche.

Spiritual work is not easy. And it cannot be hurried. The Lilly Endowment's Clergy Renewal Grant has provided me the time and the space to do the difficult work of sorting out my life and spirit. Fourteen weeks may seem a long time, but it was only after week thirteen, that I was ready for one more visit with my spiritual director. There I dropped my last anxieties of returning to ministry. I was ready: a new and centered man.

The global destinations we visited were spectacular. Some see them as the reason for the journey. They were not. They were only the setting of a journey of prayer and devotion. I traveled a far greater distance in my heart and head, than over land or sea.

THE RUNAWAY PASTOR--Black Friday Special!

2010-11-25T13:09:00.000-08:00

Runaway Pastor--Black Friday Special!

Get a jump on your Christmas shopping. Until midnight tomorrow, Friday, November 26, autographed copies of THE RUNAWAY PASTOR, by David Hayes, are available at discount prices. Here's the deal: Email http://www.runawaypastor.gmail.com before midnight, Friday night with the number of books you want. Then, as soon as we receive your check for the full amount, we will mail you your autographed copies. Be sure and let us know if you want gift or personal books signed "To _______."

Price: 1 Copy ---------------------- $11.
2 Copies ------------------- $21.
3-11 Copies------------ @ $10. per copy
12 Copies or more------- Ask for quote
USA orders only.

Currently posting at SABBATICAL BLOG

2010-10-04T08:01:00.000-07:00

Current sabbatical posting at stepawaypastor.blogspot.com

You can also find pictures and more consistent blogging at my wife's blog.

Please follow my sojourns in the US, Europe, Asia and Africa there. I will be back to this site later.

Peace to you, and I welcome your prayers.

David
--stepping away for a while.

2010-08-23T12:41:00.000-07:00

There have been times when I have wanted to run away. More specifically, I have wanted to run away from my job. And during those dark days, when I could see nothing but gloom and struggle, I wrote the novel to go along with the desire.

Many pastors, and others in compassion related work, have shared with me their desires to run, or the results of when they finally did. Most left their "jobs," but several, left their spouse as well. This is a story line in my book, The Runaway Pastor.

Many pastors who have "run" tell me later, that if they could only have had some time--the chance to step away and breath and feel, they believe they would have stayed in their ministry. And for some of them, they feel they might still be living with their spouse and their children. But the opportunity was not available. With most of them, there is substantial melancholy about their new life direction. "Life is easier," they say "I don't think I would have lasted much longer...but sometimes I wonder about what might have been had I been able to step away for a while, with the hopes of staying in." By the end of their speaking, their eyes are gazing far away, to some world that never was.

I am writing to share good news. Thanks to the kindness of the gracious congregation I pastor, and to a Clergy Renewal Grant from the Lilly Endowment, I have been given the opportunity to step away. Beginning this Sunday, and extending through mid December, I will be relieved of my duties, and I have been provided with means to attend a conference, take time away alone, then time with my family, and finally time away with my wife.

While I have not been The Runaway Pastor in reality, I now am afforded the opportunity to be the step away pastor.

Besides a sermon in Kiev, Ukraine, loving people wherever I am, and learning and networking for all I'm worth at a conference; I am not going to put many expectations on myself while I am away. But I will write. What I will write, I don't know. But if you are interested in following along--should I make it worthwhile--you will be able to track me at my new blog, Step Away Pastor. The actual address/URL is http://www.stepawaypastor.blogspot.com .

I'd love for you to sign on as a follower and sign-up for RS feeds. It would also be cool if you tweet or facebook, to pass these along when you read. I'm probably finished blogging on The Runaway Pastor for a while. Now, I'm being obedient to a call to be the step away pastor.

Struggling with a "Big Tent Christianity," and despairing over national division.

2010-08-18T14:36:00.000-07:00

Last week was a synchro-blogging event for a thing called Big Tent Christianity. The idea is for Christians to come together and accept each other in a sort of "big tent" way. I got a bit cynical on one of my attempts, and sarcastic on another. Then, I was just plain defensive, trying not to offend anyone by who I let in my big tent. Finally, I just got sad and discouraged.

And my thinking went beyond the church and its tent. I despair at the division in my country, in our churches, and in seemingly every venue of human endeavor. We are thwarted from progress or from maintaining the good by the dark powers of division.

A great deal of blame goes to the media when it comes to our national bifurcation. Tension sells. And there are plenty of millionaires on TV and radio and the internet who create tension 5 days a week. In doing so, they create for themselves a very fine living...thank you very much. (I said "living," not "life.")

Saddest of all, the church and the state are tag-teaming in ways that are unbecoming to both. In the name of God, God's children are learning to rage at God's children. Hot button topics are used by left and right to polarize people--who are typically good at loving--into separate camps. Armed camps. Armed with words and threats and visceral anger.

Big tent??? I fear church people aren't even capable of loving those in their own congregational tent. Why go for a big one, when the spirit of the age--which we so gladly embrace--is the spirit of divide and conquer? It is all too common for people to judge the spiritual lives of others based upon their political opinions.

Thanks to a gracious grant and a sabbatical, I will be out of our country during the fervent peek of the approaching election cycle. What bliss. I will be seeking to live under the reign of God. People have lived under this reign for millennia. But today, many are exiting its blessings, in favor of hatred and division in the name of--and while waving the flag of--a kingdom of this world.

I am grateful for my country. I complement those who become active in the political process, so long as they follow Christ's teaching. A few beatitudes come to mind. Blessed are the peace-makers, Blessed are the meek, and blessed are the pure in heart.

As much as I love my country, I must reserve the right to love each of its citizens--no mattter their politics or religion. I must insist on this love. And I love citizens of all other nations, no matter their political, religious or ethnic persuasion. I can't help it. Sit down and look in the eyes of another human being. Hold their children in your lap. Listen to a father's dreams, or witness the twinkle in a mother's eye. Share your stories with them, and you will love them...no matter the flag waving outside of their nation's capitol. You have to love them. It is what Jesus does.

I like big tents. There probably is one. I just despair of finding enough people willing to get along to populate it.

Check out Matthew chapters 5, 6 and 7 and choose a kingdom.

Jack of all trades, and a master of none?

2010-07-31T18:41:00.000-07:00

I love the idea of learning new languages. When living abroad in the early 90's, I had the opportunity to get a decent grip on Russian. I also took the time at one point to learn some very basic German vocabulary, and the numbers served me well a few times in a pinch. I studied French in school, but know very little, and about six years ago I took a Spanish class. When in Israel I learned to say some please and thank you kinds of words in Arabic and Modern Hebrew, but remember very few,--shukran you very much. In college I had to learn to read New Testament Greek, and for my master's paper I toiled/toyed with Old Testament Hebrew very little.

This fall Shelly and I are going to have the opportunity to spend some time in Italy. And so now we are both studying a bit of "get you around" Italian. Molto bene!

It's funny how all of these languages kind of take up residence in different places of your brain. Sure, sometimes I'll get my languages mixed, like coming up with a Russian word in an attempted Spanish sentence. But for the most part, if you are thinking in a language--and around it for a few days--your brain engages that particular gear for the time of need.

Just in case you are wondering, if my survival depended on my ability to speak any of the above languages, I'd get skinny pretty quickly. I can still--after 16 years--speak a bit of Russian. And I can come up with the right words here and there in a few others. But really, for all the passion I've placed upon learning to communicate with the people I visit, I have little to show. I am a jack of many languages, but a master of one--and that is if you count my native English! (Some readers may wonder about that now and then.)

What is your one thing? What are you passionate about? When the last words are spoken at your memorial, what will be their theme? I want to try and keep my stubborn self focused on the ways of Jesus. I want to speak him to my world fluently. And I want that place in my brain to be engaged when someone needs him.

In Philippians Paul said: "This one thing I do..." I want that to be true of me too.

Gardening: For the Sake of Others

2010-07-27T09:02:00.000-07:00

Question: What stings, makes people cry, messes up your hair, puts a smile on your face and will feed nearly one hundred and fifty people, and about thirty chickens fresh produce today?

Answer: A morning like I had!

Early this morning I picked-up a new friend from our Brown County Garden Community (CLICK HERE to see us on facebook!), we rode in my jeep with its top down (big smile on my face and messed-up hair) to a rendezvous point then on to a field of sweet corn. Once there we picked over twelve dozen ears of corn (being stung by a couple of nettles and a few deer flies), then rushed it back to a home for shucking. We cut out a couple of worms and ugly spots to give the chickens at the shucking house, and an hour after arriving at the field, I was on my way home for a shower before performing a baptism at the church at ten A.M. where I saw more than one set of eyes glistening with tears of joy. And tonight, 144 ears of fresh corn will be served at our local soup kitchen.

When a volunteer took me up on a sermonic dare to start a community garden on our church property, I had no idea the joys that were ahead for me and so many others. Yesterday our first harvest of green beans were delivered to the soup kitchen, and today it is corn that one of our garden and church members grew to share with others. Tomatoes are standing in line to become an offering once they blush properly, and peppers are working on their own magic.

Our church defines spiritual formation as: Being transformed into the image of Jesus, for the sake of others. I don't know how well we pull all of that off, but this gardening for the sake of others, is sure doing a lot for the sake of me!

Update on my novel and a review

2010-07-23T09:12:00.000-07:00

Got some more good news from my agent this week. Thanks everyone for the ways you have both encouraged me regarding The Runaway Pastor and told friends about it.

Following is a review at the amazon.com site.

This book addresses many pertinent issues not just for pastors, but for the whole church world. It is amazing how many men and women serving in pastoral ministry are close to burn-out, and need some relief. However, this is one of very few books that even addresses the issues that may contribute to burnout. I would recommend it for the pastors who are feeling like submitting a resignation is the only way out. I also highly recommend it for the church boards and administrators who, I think, would greatly benefit from the insight offered in this book about ministerial burn-out and some of the issues that cause pastors to go into other occupations. This book does not give answers to all the questions and stresses that pastor's face, but it provides a good place to begin the discussion about what pastors are feeling and why they are experiencing high levels of stress.

Fantasy life of the runaway

2010-07-19T07:36:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I took some time to do a little beginning research for the sequel to The Runaway Pastor. Since Trent--the main character in my novel--seems to be dealing with an escape fantasy, I began there. What I discovered was not all that new to me, but the way it came to me was like a formula; like a two plus two equals four. All I'd seen before was a two and another two--without the four.

First, Neuro-psychology teaches us that practiced patterns become ingrained habit. If you play golf or tennis or if you type or drive, you know what it means to be able to do something without really thinking about it. "I could do that in my sleep," we often say. And it is true. Rehearsed patterns become ingrained.

They also become default behaviors. Like a water drop falling down a windshield; once a certain path is cleared, it becomes the easy way...the default pathway for other drops. We don't think about how we type our email address, it just pops out of our fingers. We don't plan to go (or remember going) to the fridge, but we find the ice cream sandwich right there in our hands. The neuron trail has been blazed, and we follow it by habit.

The second truth is that articulately and meticulously imagined actions are indistinguishable from real actions. It is true. Our mind cannot decipher the difference between a real action and a well imagined one. We've heard that before regarding violence in movies and video games. Perhaps we believe it to an extent. However, our mind has the capability of producing much more realistic "movies" than does the movie industry. Our fantasies are more real to us than video representations of reality.

So those two points are "two" and another "two." But the "four" had never accurred to me.

Well imagined actions, which are imagined over and over, become ingrained in our thinking. They form true neurological pathways in our brain, and become default reactions to certain settings. When Jesus said that lusting was indeed adultery, he wasn't kidding. When we read in scripture that "As a man thinks in his heart, so is he," it is mirroring contemporary teaching.

It seems the secular world has a hang-up on pushing fantasies. But what I am reading tells me that fantasies can lead to realities. And realities that we imagine are not nearly as exciting and joy-filled as our imaginations allow us to believe.

Jesus said "The truth will set you free..." Chasing fantasies down pathways of pleasure is not the way to freedom.

People have often asked me how Trent so easily left his wife, church and home. In my mind, he had already dreamed it into reality. I've been asked why Natalie was unfaithful to him. She had fantasized such betrayal over and over. How far do our habitual default responses carry us in our living?

My next research interest? How does one reset/retrain their imaginations and ingrained habits?

Runaway Characters are Acting Up Again

2010-07-15T07:31:00.000-07:00

The writing of The Runaway Pastor was quite unintentional. There were agonies and feelings that needed expression. So many pastors were sharing their stories, that I decided to write a journal entry about a guy running away.

After writing a few pages, I saved the file as "Trent's Very Bad Day." (I was thinking of a popular children's book title.) And I thought I was finished. The next day I pulled out the lap top to add another bit to the story, and the characters just started appearing and doing things that people do.

I had often toyed with writing fiction. I once even had nearly one hundred pages into a pretty cool story set overseas. But a crashed hard drive, and a very full time job kept me out of the writing business. Then "Trent's Very Bad Day" became The Runaway Pastor, when I could not remove myself from the story; the story wrote itself, as the people did things people do. I too was often shocked at what happened.

This is why it has been so tough to write a sequel to the story. I've often told those who ask me about a sequel that I've "had that fit," and I don't feel the need to write any longer about those people. However this week, the TV in my brain went back to San Diego and Baylor's Bend, and I was surprised to see what was happening once again.

So a couple of days ago I started a sequel. And yesterday I tried to capture the half-hour of ideas that flowed through my brain on paper. It is in nothing like outline form. But there are scenes and glances, and conversations, and locations and all sorts of things happening. My friends in The Runaway Pastor are back at it. And so as I'm able, and with their permission, a sequel just may be on the way.

Thank you to all of you who encourage me! I still hear from a new reader of Runaway about two times per week. Pass the word along. Consider going to Amazon from my link--above and on the right--and buying a copy for a birthday, or begin your Christmas shopping now. (Later on, you'll be glad some of those gifts are already purchased!) Your pastor or church friends will like the book, but I'm finding many strong reviews from those outside of the church...and Trent seems to perk-up their interest in spiritual conversations.

Thank you again for all the ways you have encouraged me.

Some rambling theology and fearless hope...

2010-07-08T17:41:00.000-07:00

John tells us in his first epistle "there is no fear in love". That when our love for God has been perfected, there will be no fear of punishment. I wasn't raised on that thinking. In fact, a different theme from the old testament was emphasized: "The fear of God is the beginning of wisdom." In this passage the aim is wisdom. In John's teaching, the aim is relationship. In the O.T. passage as I understand it, the word "fear" is better understood as "respect" or "reverence." (I buy that. God is awesome and to be respected and held in awe above anything or anyone. He is to be worshipped in utter broken humility.) Yet we are not to pursue fear!

And so what do we pursue? We pursue Christ. We accept his love and get on with the celebration of life eternal! We can't even take credit for this. John says that "we love God because he first loved us." Even though John spends considerable time speaking of sin, he seems to be asking people to focus on God's love, rather than focus our lives on avoiding or managing sin.

We are taught to "walk in the light," and reminded that we should not sin, or continue in the path of sinning. To stay in sin would be "walking in darkness," and it is equated not with breaking a list of rules, but with hating. That's right. For John, the dear friend of Jesus, sin equals hate. Darkness is hate. Light is love.

How did Jesus relate to sinners and sin? First, we see him being condemned by religiuos leaders as "a friend of sinners." They are not avoided, he loves them. While it is true that when he forgives the woman caught in adultery, he tells her to "go and sin no more." We mustn't forget, however, that his first words to her are "Neither do I condemn you." The assumption here is that the grace given in forgiveness is so overwhelming, that persistence in sin won't be a consideration.

What did Paul say about life after forgiveness? "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." REALLY? Is there condemnation for you if you believe you sin every day in word, thought and deed? I am beginning to live with the hunch that this good news is a lot better than I've been led to believe. That being called by John in his first letter to "live as Jesus did," and to see to it that "God's love is made complete in us," is not an invitation to some obstacle course with God sitting above waiting to see if we error. Rather it is truly a freedom to live as free people. Free not only from the guilt of past sin and the need to live in current ones, but free also of the weight of the law that constantly finds us falling short. I believe that our faith is intended to be fluid and real. Not forced and measured out in devotionals accomplished and temptations avoided. Rather, we are to flow the person and presence of Jesus from our living; naturally, and without fear.

Some of you theologians who know me, may be seeing signs of my native doctrine. The Wesleyan doctrine of holiness is full of such hope as mentioned above. Too often however, I'm afraid it is married to some post-gospel legalism that leaves us wanting.

I don't have to possess her, to love her.

2010-06-24T11:54:00.000-07:00

I remember like it was yesterday the afternoon when my wife and I--with our four year old and eight year old--stepped away from the embraces of family and other loved ones who were as close as family, and began our journey to live beyond the sea. Arriving at our apartment in Kyiv, Ukraine, we quickly took a vital tool out of it's box. It was a clunky, early edition FAX machine.

Not many years before that, snail mail was the only communication option besides hyper-priced overseas telephone calls. We were thrilled that we could place a freshly typed letter onto the moving wheel, and watch the machine swallow it. And to know that simultaneously, in my childhood home on the other side of the world, a copy would roll out for my mother (or into other homes of friends from our first and current church) to read and share. Hi tech it was indeed.

Just now I arrived home from a hospital visit in Indianapolis. My wife glowed a smile as she told me of her conversation with our exchange student daughter who had safely arrived home. I sat on our couch, punched up our skype program and dialed. Soon I was looking face to face with this dear girl. Her beautiful sister and mother looked on and shared our greetings. Shamelessly we shared "I love you's."

Funny, I thought, I'm not sure we ever spoke these words before our airport separation. But they are real and true now, and we all know it.

My weeping has stopped (for the most part). I am content that she is with her family. She is safe and well. I don't have to possess her, in order to love her. Probably some wisdom in that line for all of us.

"Exchange" Daughter and The Pains of Love

2010-06-22T09:09:00.000-07:00

I have often been afforded the agonizing honor of sharing in the last hours of a person's life. I've written about these moments before, but my grief this morning is of a different nature.

Just an hour ago, my wife and I left behind our "daughter for a year" at the airport. I haven't sobbed so much since a dear friend died a few years back. My heart is crushed. Making her scrambled eggs one last time, carrying her luggage to the car, and driving her down the hill (as I did so many mornings on the way to school or one of the many activities she was involved in) carried such a sense of finality. She is ours no longer.

I remember the first week she was here I introduced her to someone as my "daughter for the year." She looked me in the eyes with her determined gaze and responded, "I will be your daughter forever."

No, I am not her father, and she has a wonderful man she calls Dad waiting to welcome her home. And no, she is not my blood daughter. I have one of those that I treasure beyond what any words can say. But as I sobbed my good-byes this morning--as I let go of her at the airport security line--my heart broke as I never thought it could.

Koba Sivsivadze, oo vas yest chudesnee dochka! (You have a wonderful daughter!) But it has been my honor to care for her for the past year. Thank you for trusting our family to watch over her. She will change her world in everything she does, as she has changed ours in this little town in Indiana.

And I hope you don't mind me saying, while understanding my lesser role, Gvantsa will also be my daughter, forever.

A divided Church, purity or pride?

2010-06-02T12:23:00.001-07:00

We hear a great deal about sustainability these days. More and more, I find myself questioning the sustainability of the Western church's trajectory.

Can we churches continue to split-hairs and divide ourselves one from another in order to distinguish ourselves as the most Jesus-like or the coolest? How long can we compete with one another on the grounds of having "better worship," "stronger teaching" or "purer doctrine?" Must we--like a centrifuge--continually throw to the fringes everything that cannot cling to some enigmatic standard or another? Must we purify ourselves of other sincere Christ seekers and followers?

Is this sustainable? Are we all straining at gnats and swallowing camels (insisting on our own peculiar standards, and ignoring Christ's call for unity)? Surely this is not what Jesus meant by, "I pray that they may one..." Is it not time for humility and unity?

We have developed rules to follow and items to believe which define for us the true followers. So who is it that has the best set of beliefs? Are all the rest of us lost?

Thank God, Jesus did not lift the standard so high when asking disciples to follow him. "Follow me" was all he required. His followers didn't even believe he was the Messiah at first! (And then only when God's Spirit revealed it--not a clever emotional sermon followed by a "sinner's prayer.")

I'd guess on judgment day he'll trash most of us and welcome the wise few?

No? You don't believe that?

Question: Then why not swallow our pride and unite with others who are on this journey of following the ONE?

Answer: Because Jesus alone isn't enough for us anymore. And that being true, beneath what banner could we possibly agree to bow?

Changing Chapters: A Community Garden is born

2010-05-27T06:43:00.000-07:00

When I read a book, I enjoy short chapters. The chapters in my book The Runaway Pastor are too long for me. I like to read for a few seconds and knock one off. I like changing chapters because it gives me a sense of progress.

Changing chapters in real life can be more difficult.

A friend's status on facebook today: "Listening to my baby boy cry himself to sleep about moving away from his best friend. These are the moments you wish you could shield your kids from, heart break." A chapter is changing for this family--moving from seminary to their first job in a new church. And with all the dreams of making life better in the world, tonight their decision has broken their boy's heart.

I've made several of those cry yourself to sleep decisions for my family. And while they began as exciting looks into a better world, they included painful leavings behind.

But this week, there is a chapter change that is exciting...even exilarating for me.

Last winter I dreamed of a community garden at our church. We have all of this property, and we use it so little. There is hunger in our community, as well as many frustrated gardeners due to a lack of sun in our forest-living. But as many pastors can tell you, dreams are a dime a dozen, and often go by the wayside soon enough.

Thanks to the determined efforts of a couple who shared my dream, and those whom they have inspired; last night I wheel-barrowed my way through tilled soil. I (before gladly being replaced by a friend, then a friend with a tractor) was beginning the process of adding tons of donated composted amendments to the soil. I looked in front of me and saw a dream come true.

I arrived at the office early this morning and drove my jeep to the garden site, and just stared and smiled. In that soil, dozens of us will sweat. There will be frustrating weeds and blights and cut fingers. There will be stings and failed crops and ignored patches. But a page has turned. There will be new friends made--more than 2/3 of our gardeners are from outside of the church. The local soup kitchen will receive huge quantities of fresh, nutrient rich vegetables. And in one more new way, the stuff our church "owns," will be multiplied for those who need it. Kind of sounds biblical!

Take a look at our facebook page. Join if you want! http://www.facebook.com/pages/Brown-County-Garden-Community/103400849697012?ref=ts

Hope is Growing

2010-05-24T18:40:00.000-07:00

As our church prepares to plow up our soil to serve as a community garden, I'm dreaming of kingdom come. Check out this site http://growingpower.wordpress.com/ .

The Wind of God

2010-05-20T10:48:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking this week about the roaring wind at Pentecost. If you aren't familiar with the reference, here is a summary. When Jesus' followers (called disciples) were filled with the Holy Spirit (God's Spirit), it was on the day of Pentecost (a Hebrew Holiday). They were in a room together, when they heard a mighty-rushing wind. So I've been thinking about that.

I think of Genesis 2:7, when the creation story shows Adam, the first man, being made alive by the breath of God.

I think of Jesus (John 3) telling a skeptical, yet interested religious leader about how God's presence is like the wind. You can never tell where it is coming from or where it is going.

I think of Jesus (John 20:19-23) appearing to the disciples after his resurrection. They are all afraid and hiding. They have betrayed him and failed him and watched him die. (Yes, they feel like losers!) He shows up in the room and says "Peace!" Yeah, right. But he says it again and then he breaths on them. Then he tells them that people will be forgiven according to the level that the disciples forgive people. (That's the witnessing part, and I like it. Witnessing according to Jesus here is not making them an offer of, "If you will do this,God will do this." His version here is more that we are to be the present forgiveness of God. But I digress.

So then on the day when God shows up (Acts 2) to move into his new home (surrendered people who love him), there's wind. Sounds like God breathing life into his witnesses.

Taken a deep breath of God's Spirit lately?

The Runaway hasn't Runaway

2010-05-13T07:35:00.000-07:00

I know my postings have been few and far between for a while. Part of that is due to a busy schedule, many days out of town and plain old fatigue. I'd also have to admit that some of the complacency here is due to a lack of direction about what to write. It happens.

I enjoyed the foray into writing about prayer, and I'm still enjoying the new frontiers in that practice. However, it seems time to move on to something else.

So let me just let you know, if you all haven't jumped ship (I haven't even checked my analytics account to watch traffic in more than a month.), I'll try to get going again soon.

I am enjoying lots of feedback on my book, THE RUNAWAY PASTOR. Thanks for that, and for spreading the word about its message. Perhaps later this year, I will get back to the places that would like a signing party, and other promotion opportunities.

Peace to you, if you are there. :)

Choosing prayer for all we're worth.

2010-05-05T12:47:00.000-07:00

I think it is time I begin another theme or direction here. It was fun working with the idea of prayer as something that we avoid, even when we want to pursue it. Maybe fun isn't the word. Either way, it seems to me that prayer is tough work, and because of this truth, we often choose to avoid it. If we do what we enjoy and succeed at, then we also tend to avoid those things that make us feel inadequate.

So where does that leave us? What is your take on it? Do you avoid prayer for all you are worth? Or are you growing in prayer?

If I can take a paragraph or so to summarize, I think the beginning place that is most vital is the attitude of humility. Jesus said the pure in heart will see God, and humility seems the best route toward such purity. Following this, I mentioned a need for a place of prayer. No one seems to struggle with that. I think the practice of repeating prayers, especially the Jesus Prayer, the Lord's Prayer, and others is a practice that will help one deepen their prayer life. The use of a prayer rope is a tool that reminds us to pray, and that we are praying while we are in process.

The past several posts have come from this stream of thinking. I hope they have challenged at least someone to be more intentional about time in prayer.

This weekend I travel to the Great Smoky Mountain National Park, where my entire family and I plan to hike to Mt. LeConte and stay at the historic lodge on top. On Saturday, I will awaken on top of the world as I begin the celebration of my birthday. I'll try and post some pix here for you to enjoy this journey into the clouds.

Avoiding prayer for all we're worth: A six year old could do it.

2010-05-01T10:24:00.000-07:00

I was with an old college buddy of mine this week and he told me a great story of a nighttime prayer with his grandson. The six year old prayed: "God would you make it so everyone does what I want?" And as his papa was leaving his room, the boy looked up from his bed smiling, and said: "I sure hope he answers that one!"

How often do we pray in order to ask for some blessing? Some have lists of things they are asking for. At other times, we pray in the crisis--"O God help!" Both of these prayers--asking for blessings and for help in troubled times--are proper praying. In these prayers we give direction to God. Bless this, help that, or send this or care for that.

But this week I've been thinking about another kind of prayer. In Acts 10 and 11, there is a telling and re-telling of a story. Simon Peter was praying, and so was a Roman soldier. And as they were praying, they received direction from God!

I am trying to learn to pray long and sincerely, without asking for anything but transformation. And I'm finding that often such transformation comes when I'm ready to obey in new ways.

Avoiding prayer for all worth: The Mystery Factor

2010-04-20T09:07:00.000-07:00

I want to write a bit about mystery, and more specifically about God as mystery. Many of us dislike any sense of uncertainty or mystery when it comes to God. We want to be able to describe his ways perfectly. It is expected that with enough Bible Studies under our belt, we can move beyond mystery and into knowledge or certainty. People come to me asking very difficult theological questions, assuming that if one has studied long and hard enough, he can live beyond mystery--that she can give exacting answers to the most difficult of questions.

We want a definable God with definable ways.

Sorry to burst the bubble, but I'm afraid we don't have one of those.

When Abraham was called by God, he was invited to go to a place that he did not know. Abraham was invited into mysterious living. His calling wasn't to what he could see or understand, but into obedience in places and time when God would seem to make no sense. His marriage, his fatherhood, his role as an uncle and patriarch were in all ways confusing. Read his story in Genesis 12 and following, and tell me you think he perceived God as anything but mysterious.

But when we pray, we want to get right down to the facts. We will tell God how things are and then define the appropriate divine response. "Lord, you know so and so has these problems, and we ask you to take them away." We assume God will solve problems exactly as we imagine.

So when I repeat prayers in order to center myself in God's presence, those prayers are not of my own writing. They are however, very much from my heart and will. I pray, "Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me." for long periods of time, and then I come to the place where I feel comfortable switching to "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on ___________." And in the blank I insert a person or situation or church or whatever.

In our western way of thinking, if we are not independent to pray what we want and how we want, then our prayers are not authentic. I disagree.

Often in our evangelical protestant way of thinking, if prayers are memorized, they must be only empty ritual. Again I disagree. And I do so because I believe that God is mystery, "his paths beyond searching out." And my task in prayer is not to instruct him, but to humbly place myself before him...as in the prayer above. Or as in the "Lord's Prayer," with its phrase: "Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven."

Thoughts?

(Over the past couple of weeks I have been silent here. Our family lost a dear loved one, and we spent most of two weeks in California. I apologize for the lack of attention to this site, however, obviously my heart and attentions were rightly placed elsewhere.)

Avoiding prayer for all we're worth: Tools Part 3

2010-04-08T16:07:00.000-07:00

In my pocket I carry a very small circle of yarn. It has been tied into knots all the way around. I can't tell where the beginning or end is, except that in the midst of the knots is a tiny wooden carving. And if you look closely, you can see the carving is a cross. I'm describing a prayer rope. There are prayer ropes with many more knots, or some with beads that many people call "prayer beads," "worry beads" or a rosary.

And by now, many of you are shocked and dismayed. "These are the tools of the superstitious, not Christians!" (I can hear it now, because it is exactly what I used to believe.) But I am going to ask you to hang with me for a moment. Because I am learning to use my prayer rope. I have been on and off now for a few years.

I don't use my prayer rope to count my prayers, but to keep me attentive to them. In Part 2 of this series, I introduced the use of centering prayers. Each time I begin the prayer again, I move to a new knot, again, not to count, but to notice that I am starting over. Because when you pray a prayer for an hour or so, or even for several minutes, it is easy to begin to drift in your thoughts. (Remember the introduction to this series--"Avoiding prayer for all we're worth." Here I admitted that I have trouble focusing for more than a few minutes. Thus, the tools are what I use to remedy this.) And so the feel of the knots brings my attention back if it has wondered during the previous prayer. And, each time I come around to the cross, I take a moment to pray a brief "Glory to you, Lord, glory to you."

My prayer rope helps me get in sync with my praying, but you probably don't have one. So here's a tool to see if this can help. (Not as good as the rope, but a start.) Touch your thumb to your pointer finger and say your first prayer. Then, move to your middle finger, your ring finger and little finger. You have completed a ssequence of prayers. Now start over.

Next time, I'll share a few more prayers I use for centering. In the meantime, I'd love to hear from you about these things.

Avoiding prayer for all we're worth: Tools Part 2

2010-04-05T08:08:00.000-07:00

WHY do we struggle to pray, and keep our mind focused?
We are so limited. God, the One with whom we try to relate in prayer, is so unlimited. That is why humility is a great place to start when praying.

In our limitedness, we prefer speaking to that which will respond. Other people can communicate with us in the simplest ways. We say words, they say words. We are even able to communicate with pets to some extent. Funny, we receive more of the response we desire when we speak in a huge empty room, and hear our own voice come echoing back at us. But what we desire (a verbal response to our praying) is not what we receive when we practice prayer.

Speaking to God can feel like speaking into a vacuum. And with the lack of audible feedback, it is tempting to move on to something else that we can do. We take different approaches to our short-lived prayers: At best, we assume prayer is only one way--me talking to God--and so we often practice one way communication. At worst, we fear we have failed in what others seem to accomplish with ease. And failure is a poor motivator for continued effort, so we despair and cease trying.

New paths to prayer
And so this is where the tools come in. In this post, I'll introduce the practice of repeating a simple centering prayer.

Let me deal first with your fears. The idea of repeating a prayer raises red flags with some of you. It sounds like a disobediance of Jesus' warning not to us vain repititions. And you should indeed hear and heed that warning. He is not interested in your mindless, empty repititions. However, remember we begin praying in humility. And a humble heart does not hope to manipulate God with some stream of meaningless words. I repeat prayers every day of my life. There are some I pray each morning and evening--for instance the "Lord's Prayer," (called the "Our Father" by some). And even though I pray it several times a day, each time I seek to draw my heart's sincere attention to praying His words.

Many of you will agree with all I've said, but not like the word "centering" at all! I don't like it much either, but I don't have a better one right now. Maybe you can offer one?

This kind of prayer is a memorized, short and repeated prayer used to focus your heart and attention on God. The Lord's Prayer can be employed in this way.

I'd like to ask you to practice using this tool. If you know the Lord's Prayer or the Jesus Prayer, try spending five or even ten minutes repeating one of them. Here is a version of the first if you do not have it memorized.

Our Father in Heaven, Holy is your name. May your Kingdom come and your will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For yours is the Kingdom, and the power and the glory, forever. Amen.

And the second is one used by many needy people who approached Jesus: "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me." (Some add the words "a sinner" to the end of this prayer.) As I pray this prayer, in order to keep it "real," I will occasionally drop and add some words, as I go along. After you have quieted your mind into this prayer, you can also begin changing the "me" to the name of a person or situation or church...or whatever you are praying for. Just keep yourself humble in the process.

Keep these things in mind!
-This is not a race to try and say the words quickly. Your goal is to desire the prayer to be true.
-Your mind will wonder, if so, gently bring your attention back to the text and begin again. The more you practice, the easier this will become.
-Don't be dismayed if you struggle at first. With practice you will come near to God, and sense the ability to remain in him.

Paul tells us to "pray without ceasing." Do you? This tool will help you move in this direction--in God's direction.

Next time: a tool used by millions, distrusted or hated by many, but helpful to me.

Avoiding prayer for all we're worth: Tools Part 1

2010-04-02T18:54:00.000-07:00

At the end of the last post, I promised that I would share some prayer tools with you. Because I find it hard to pray for more than a few seconds without losing focus, I have gone searching for these tools. Most people won't comment here, but I here via email and word of mouth that I am not alone in this struggle. And so, I will spend my next few posts striving to give you a few simple ideas and tools that may help you to pray.

(I believe that the best praying happens when we are together, praying as the church. I won't tackle that here, but will refer to it when I write about prayer books.)

For this first entry, I'll speak about place, posture/position and disposition.

Place
We need a place to pray where we can feel alone and uninhibited. We need to have a prayer place. Jesus spoke of "going to your closet" to pray. No matter the fancy definitions of "closet" we may read, the point is that we must have a private place to go and pray. I can't find that for you. You'll need to work on that. Examples might be a garage, a separate room in the house or at work. When my children were young, I used to sit in the room with them with my head under a blanket. They knew to leave me alone when I "went" there.

Posture/Position
I find that the posture, or position I take when I pray is important. I do not have any one single posture that I employ. However, I find that my body position is important. Why? We are not merely "spiritual" creatures. We are physical. God is saving us body and soul. There are times when I pray in my bed (the Psalmist speaks of this). There are times I kneel with my face up, and other times when my face is to the floor. There are times when I stand with my arms held in a receiving position, and other times when I sit quietly, with my hands cupped or folded on my lap.

These will make more sense when I go further into these elementary lessons.

So the first tools that I can give you, are to find a place and experiment with posture. I believe you will find it natural to know when to kneel, or sit or stand.

Disposition
Perhaps it is even more important to speak of disposition. There is nothing more important in the process of prayer than humility. Think of effective prayers in scripture--when people pleaded with Jesus--and you will be thinking of humble entreaties. The thief on the cross, the woman with the issue of blood, the blind man beside the road, the father who's son was thrown into fires by demons, the synagogue ruler who's daughter was at home dying--then dead. Desperate humility typifies those who pray effectively. We too must have God's blessing, and we pray best when we humbly seek it.

Hopefully tomorrow I'll have time to write some more specific prayer tools. If not then, I will in the next few days. I am excited to share some stuff that is really helping me. Today, I enjoyed a few hours of prayer. He is worthy of our pursuit!

Peace to you.

Avoiding prayer for all we're worth.

2010-03-31T08:38:00.000-07:00

Have you ever tried to pray for more than a few moments? I know, for most people on this journey the answer is "yes." Yet often when we face the daunting silence of prayer, I fear we step away. We are probably convinced that the old saying is truly wise: "Don't just sit there. Do something!"

I am seeking to spend more time in praying. This has meant for me longer times of prayer. Here are the challenges I meet: Silence, a racing mind, and that incessant need to be busy doing. And because of these, I often avoid prayer for all I'm worth. And I become worth-less as a result.

Silence
Entering into quiet is frightening. Turning off all electronic forms of distraction leaves our souls feeling not only alone, but naked--exposed. And it is for this very reason that periods of silence are important to us. We need to see what is exposed. Is it loneliness? Is it fear? Is it anger? Is it resentment? Is it lust? What surfaces when you get quiet?

A Racing Mind
I don't like failure. And when I pray and my mind leaves the prayer behind and focuses on something else, it maddens me. It humiliates me. This causes me to believe that I simply am "not cut-out" to pray. That it is a gift that others can enjoy, rather than a skill that must be honed.

I'm learning to sit with my busy brain. When it wonders away, I pull it back to my prayer. And yes, I do this over and over and over again. I want to find my heart (what the Eastern Church calls the "nous"). And the longer I practice this corralling of my busy mind, the more I tame my soul.

That Incessant Need to Be Busy
I never have my "to do list" finished. I rarely get close. There are always more meetings to schedule and hold, more people to go and encourage and more studying to do for future teaching, etc. And so it is extremely difficult for me to still myself for the purpose of prayer. It is hard to stop and be present with God.

Prayer is a decision to step away from busy-ness. And while it is not practiced for the purpose of making us more effective in our work, it will do just that. When we sacrifice our busy-ness and choose prayer, we sharpen our soul which I will define here as our mind (our ability to think), our will (ability to make choices), and our emotions (our ability to feel).

TOOLS
I am discovering that the use of prayer tools can be helpful. I will write about them next time. Peace to you as you seek to honor the Lord of Holy Week.

A gushy Lenten love note

2010-03-30T07:45:00.000-07:00

In the last couple of weeks I have been challenged on several levels. First, to intensify my prayer life. I've also been pushed on the subject of humility and service for the sake of Jesus. And, I have found myself drawn deeper into a passionate love for Jesus. Yep, there it is.

I'm not speaking of a passion for the "good teacher" Jesus, or the "spiritual master" Jesus, or the "friend of the lowly" Jesus. And I'm not talking about a passion to do more Kingdom work, although such passions are worthy of our best efforts. I'm talking about a passionate love for Jesus himself. Like my love for my wife, or my children or my grandchild, or mother or sisters, etc.--I have been drawn back into the feeling of love for Jesus. I have not been here for a while (I am sorry to confess).

Spending time with someone, telling them you love them, and sacrificing for that love will do this for you. Action for the benefit of the loved one will draw love from your heart. Like a dried old leather saddle, my soul has come alive with the renewing oil of God's nearness. And something in me must say very clearly, that I love Jesus.

I know this is a more sappy post than you are used to here, but this writer is a bit more sappy these days. I've caught myself weeping as I read of Him, or as I sing on Sunday morning. Just plain old sentimental love for Him.

Now I know--and I have taught over and over--that "love" is not a feeling, but a commitment. Well pardon my Lenten blubbering here, but sometimes the feeling of love can be pretty intoxicating and even necessary. I'd hate to have done my thirty-plus years of marriage so far with a love that was strictly cognitive. There is something about passion and feeling that is necessary glue in such a relationship.

And so, with the Psalmist I am confessing, "I love you O Lord, my rock and my redeemer."

Experience first the darkness: Lent is moving toward its aweful, awesome ending.

2010-03-25T07:32:00.000-07:00

In this blog, I am inviting you and anyone you can find that is willing to share here, just how you spend the last week of Lent--Holy Week. I find sharing traditions to be a good thing, and an encouraging thing. In order to comment, just click comment at the bottom of this posting, and write a comment in the box. You don't have to have a google account. Just choose another option, and post your thoughts. So here are some of my thoughts. You can be more brief, or longer if you like.

This week has been a time of ramping-up preparations for next week--Holy Week on the Christian Calendar. We are preparing our Thursday evening service and Good Friday services, which basically are just long readings of Luke's passion narrative. Our sanctuary is dark and bleak. The cross is dominant up front, and the lights are kept low. On Thursday, we will receive communion and read about Christ's last supper. On Friday, the sanctuary will be draped with black cloths, as will the cross. We will read of Christ's arrest, trials, crucifixion and death. By the last reading, every light and candle in the sanctuary is out except for the "Christ Candle." The candle that represents to us his presence from Christmas until next Advent, is extinguished at the end of the service. (This of course, is not Jesus' actual presence, but rather it is our weekly reminder that when we gather, he is in our midst.) All is dark, as is our world with no Christ.
We leave in silence.

Then on Easter Sunday morning, we will begin outside (weather permitting) and walk symbolically around the building on our journey to the tomb of Christ. We will read of his burial and of the women walking to the tomb which will be represented again by the sanctuary. The doors will be opened as we arrive, and we will hear the incredible words: "Our Lord is Risen!" We will respond, as we do each year (if I'm not to choked and fighting tears) with, "He is risen indeed!"

The drama and darkness of Lent will succumb once again to the bright hope of Easter Sunday morning!

I learned long ago that the joy of Easter is little more than candy eggs and new clothes if we don't intentionally discipline ourselves to experience first the darkness.

An Unexpected Welcome: Retreating at Catholic retreat sites.

2010-03-16T07:05:00.000-07:00

A gentle, smiling group gathers for simple fare at lunchtime. They have just completed noon prayers. Scriptures have been meditated upon, Psalms have been read and sung, and you have been prayed for. Yes you.

I've made it a habit to spend some time away with cloistered communities throughout my sojourn. I've visited them in deserts, mountains, in the sweltering south and in the Midwest. Each time, whether a community of nuns or priests, I find myself surrounded by welcome and peace. My spirit is invited to rest and pray.

In my book, The Runaway Pastor, the lead character visits a Catholic monastery for a time of prayer and reflection. The reason I chose not to mention a protestant one? I don't know of any. We don't have a similar long-standing monastic tradition. I encourage people of my congregation to go to such Catholic retreat facilities because there is no comparable place to go and pray within my tradition.

I've had a few critiques about this. "There are protestant campgrounds and retreat sites that welcome people to go on retreats," they say. "Why not go there?" And they are right, these places exist. But they are not the same. What one experiences in these cloistered communities I speak of is an atmosphere which has known continuous praying for the world and singing of the Psalms throughout the cycle of hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades and sometimes centuries or more. Prayer isn't retreated to for these people. It is their atmosphere...the air they breathe. This is the kind of holy place they share with us.

Yesterday for only two hours, I sat, shared stories, prayed and ate lunch with a Catholic sister whom I've known for twenty four years. Today is her eightieth birthday. Sixty seven of her years have been spent in community praying daily. And while she ventured out to teach school, serve in soup kitchens, jails, homeless shelters or as a speaker in retreat settings for literally thousands over the years; this sister has operated out of the strength drawn from roots deep in prayer and scripture--deep in God's presence. And yesterday, I enjoyed that place of peace and strength, and began a few days of vacation with prayer as my starting place.

You may not be aware of these places around you. Such communities are in countrysides and cities. And the people who find their home there work hard like you and I do. But they also have espoused themselves to prayer in community. And when they pray, they pray for you and your world. I would not want to see the world without such leaven.

End of the one week TV fast...blah

2010-03-10T07:25:00.000-08:00

Well, yesterday marked the end of my week without TV. There isn't really much to report. How about you? I kept up with news online. I had to change a habit or two when entering rooms. But at the end of the week yesterday afternoon, I realized I wasn't jonesing to turn it on. In fact, I haven't yet.

I think the big deal is that I have no show that I watch every week. I'm never home consistently in the evenings when those are on. I do enjoy travel channel, discovery, Explorer etc., but I guess it was an easy experiment/fast for me.

About six of you told me you'd join in. How'd it go?

Lenten reflections, part way through...

2010-03-07T12:06:00.000-08:00

Here are some of my thoughts as we stand four Sundays from Easter, and as we approach the halfway point of Lent.

I'm finding a purer self--a less pretentious presence. These are days of frustrating humility, but deeper peace and stronger confidence. There is more a sense of being able to do whatever is needed, and less discouragement midst the little hassles.

These are quieter days. And I am quieter within myself. I am stronger in the face of all temptations (not just the temptations I've brought upon myself by saying I wouldn't participate in things I usually consider routine). I've gained a bit of self-assurance that I can do all things through Christ. I'm not saying that I'm superman, but I'm stronger in this weakness.

I understand the need for self-discipline and want to remember this place, and not fear coming here more often. There are a couple of things I've set aside for this season which I may leave aside. Others I will pick up with a new understanding of their insidious ability to become idols/addictions.

I'm a grateful follower of the way of Jesus. And this Lenten journey has carried sweet suffering.

This is why I wrote The Runaway Pastor

2010-03-07T06:57:00.000-08:00

My favorite amazon review yet. Maybe it is self-serving that I post this, but this review hits the exact reason I wrote The Runaway Pastor in the first place. Thanks for indulging me, and please, find a copy of the book and for your pastor's sake, read it. And if you are a pastor, well, please remember that you are not almighty. Here is the review:

5.0 out of 5 stars Runaway Pastor, March 4, 2010
Runaway Pastor is barely fiction! There is so much reality, so much bare naked truth, and so much raw life in it that it blurs the lines. At times, I vacillated between feeling comforted by the fact that someone else knows my plight and understands my heart... or embarrassed to think that someone has been peering into my deep dark secret places! I have served as a pastor for 20+ years and the last few years have taken an unspeakable toll on my health, both emotional and physical... on my mind, both mental and spiritual... and on my relationships, both in and out of ministry. Just over a year ago, my wife and I nearly crashed and burned. Were it not for the arms of God and a few well-placed friends acting as His hands, we would not be in ministry any longer. We would not be fulfilling our life calling. I never ran... probably because the creative access panel of my mind had been scorched and I merely wasn't clever enough any longer to plot my escape.

Please, read this book. Layman or minister... read it and wake up to the realization that we are in grave danger every day that we deny our vulnerability and our need to care for ourselves first. Bless God for working through you, David Hayes. Bless God.

And how would you like your pain? Now, or later?

2010-03-05T07:55:00.000-08:00

Yesterday afternoon, I sat in the dentist's chair thinking philosophically. "Why do I like myself so much better now, than I do three weeks from now?" And what I mean by that, is this:

I knew, after consulting with the dentist, I had an unpleasant procedure (not a huge deal) that needed to be scheduled. Something in the way the guy looked at me made me think he might offer to do it right then! And inside, I thought, "No! Let's schedule this later!" (Actually, yesterday would have been a great time to do this. My day wasn't heavily scheduled. But I didn't want the pain now, it needed to be later!)

We never want the pain NOW.

So I thought to myself, IF I could have my way, I'd choose to not pay my bills until later. I'd choose not to exercise until later. I'd choose not to read to my children or grandchildren, or for my own growth until later. I'd choose not to work at my diet until later. I'd choose not to cook until later. (And I would go out to eat NOW. I would put it on a credit card and pay later.) Later!

We never want our pain or effort NOW.

We know that discipline is something we need. We know we need it today. But the steps involved:
-writing a budget and staying with it, and paying for what I can afford when I buy it;
-saying NO to myself about that cookie or fa(s)t food foray;
-quitting that debilitating addiction;
-reading a book or taking quiet time instead of vegging in front of the television;
these things are just painful, and require effort!

So we postpone our pain until LATER. After we lose our health and damage that of those around us due to poor eating habits; after we've abused our friends by stealing their money or robbing their medicine cabinet to get our next fix; after the collectors have set up residence in our answering machines and after we've abused our friend's trust because they know they won't get paid back for last year's "little loan;" and after it's too late to teach our children to read, or our soul to be still... Later please.

So, while I sat in the dentist chair I asked: "Can we do this now?" He responded by tilting his head and saying, "Afraid we can't get you in right now. You'll have to schedule with the front desk." And I did. April 1st--April Fool's Day will be my day to hurt a little. And next April, and the next and the next--if all goes as planned--my tooth shouldn't be hurting when I chew on an apple.

I heard lots about repentance when I was a kid. I thought it meant that you said you were sorry. That is the beginning of it. But real repentance means to be sorry enough to change. And that is something we'd prefer to do later.

Help me grow this community, or How to be a more active participant.

2010-03-04T08:57:00.000-08:00

My "hits," or visits at this site have gone up over the past few months. Readers come from all of the United States, and provinces of Canada; and readers also visit from three to four dozen countries on six continents. I'm humbled and honored by this. Here's how you can help me to build this online home:

It REALLY helps when you leave comments after a post. By doing that, you help me create the community I want this to become, and you help others feel less nervous about commenting. (You DO know that I don't get paid for this, don't you?) And hey, if you have trouble remembering your password to leave a comment, may I suggest you just place your info in a word processing file? This isn't high security stuff, so keep it simple and save it to a file where you can find it. Or you can just make an anonymous comment anytime.

Also, when you check an impression box at the bottom of a post, it shows signs of life. Not even 1% of you do that, and it only requires a click! Try and remember if you would.

It is extremely helpful when you sign-on as a "follower." It lets us see who hangs out here, and again, not many of you have done that. It isn't really very hard to do. You get a google i.d. and go from there. I'd love to see you jump in with this step.

Finally, the thing that makes this work more easily is the "feed." See the orange button on a white background with the word "Posts" (and the one below with "All Comments") next to it? It is just below the search box. If you click on that and then on a service you use online, you can find out every time there is a new post here. Then you remember to visit, read the post, click an opinion box and start or join the discussion by writing a comment.

That's how this thing ties together. Use the "feed," read the post, click an opinion, leave a comment, and watch for more discussion.

By the way, I added a new feature to the blog yesterday. The search feature on the top right hand side is pretty cool! Google provides it free, but it allows my blog to be searched using keywords. I noticed that if the word "hiking" is entered for instance, several posts from the past couple of years pop up. Maybe it will help you in the future.

Deep Silence: Dumping TV for a week.

2010-03-02T08:24:00.000-08:00

Our medical society is stymied as to why so many of U.S. Americans are stressed or depressed, and thus suffering from diseases that result from these two conditions. I have a decent history with stress and depression myself. No, I'm not proud of that; but it is reality. Why, in this age with so many tools and conveniences at our fingertips, do we never seem to escape the ravages of hurry and worry?

Here are a couple of guesses.

We don't know how to be still. Instead of utilizing dishwashers, laundry equipment, cell phones, computers, automobiles, and every other imaginable piece of time-saving gadgetry to our advantage, we use them to pack more into our living. We don't work hard and wisely with our tools in order to be done at a decent time and go home to our loved ones and relax. We work hard in order to get more gadgets and impress people with the toys and with the moniker of "busy." (People are impressed with busy people. Busy people are impressed with busy people.)

But happy people usually know better.

I have to believe that another source of our hassled existence is our non-stop media connection. Radio, iPod, email, facebook, myspace and TV are incredible tools. I also think they are deep pools of insanity. We lose ourselves in their jumble. We are addicts. (Do NOT try and tell me you aren't. If you do, I'll challenge you dump them for a couple of months and see how you react--most likely as a junkie without his fix, or an alcoholic without her bottle or a fish without its water. You'll say: There's no way I can go without it, its part of my job! I have to connect there or I'll get left behind!" Or, "I could turn them off any time I want, I just don't need to. In Barbara Brown Taylor's words from a few articles back, we see perceive our addictions as power tools. Not problems.

And indeed, they should be. Until we smear our needs and desires all over their glistening surfaces.

I'm relearning how to sit still; to be still and know that God is God, as a wise writer once said. Perhaps, it is better to say: Be still and know that our business and our busy tools are not God.

I read Jerry Mander's book Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television back in the early '80s. I just checked it out on Amazon, and it is still a highly rated title. It is not a religious approach to the question of media. It is not even all that much about television. But it is a mighty presentation (even if written from a bit of a Luddite perspective) of the way we as a human race are separating ourselves from natural (and I would add spiritual) moorings, and are paying a heavy, heavy price.

I'm trying to grow up and be a big boy. I'm trying to put away childish things. I'm thinking of dumping my dependence upon television. Radio has been a great first step. But, but, but....! No, I can get the news from my laptop. I can keep up with the weather there too.

OK, I said it here first. No TV for a week for me. But, I love the news!!!!, Nope. You can ask me how I'm doing. You game?

Healing? Prayer? Real?

2010-02-28T13:21:00.000-08:00

If I had another life to live, I might try to master mathematics so that I could study string and super-string physics. Reading around the edges of texts from these disciplines--as if reading a foreign language--I catch glimpses of tantalizing theories. Most fascinating of these are suggestions of interface between psycho-spiritual and space/time realities. I don't even know how to describe these adequately.

This week I thought about spiritual healing and the unexplained sense of a need to pray for someone, and how these things can happen over great physical distance. For instance: Have you ever heard of the parent who wakes in the night and just knows she needs to pray for her child--only to discover later that this was the exact moment of a crisis in the child's life? Have you ever been telephoned by a friend or relative, and before the phone rang, you picked it up to call them (and there was no obvious reason for the desire to call?) Have you known of someone that has been prayed for and then healed of a disease from which they should not have recovered? My answer to all of these questions is--"Yes."

How do these things happen?

Funny, it is not hard for me to believe that I can punch some buttons on my cell phone and speak with someone on the other side of the world. I can't explain how. I believe I can tune a radio in my car and listen to any sort of music or talk from distant cities. There are messages surrounding and saturating each of us as we look at this screen, and given the right tool, we can "tune" into them.

So why is it difficult to believe that I can pray (or care about or wish) for your well-being across miles or continental borders, and for you to be impacted physically? Can we truly "reach out and touch?"

Since I was a child, I've been taught to pray. I've been taught that I can speak to God and benefit another person or situation on the other side of the planet (i.e. praying for missionaries). But this feels somehow like a real stretch. I mean, effecting you from thousands of miles away is impossible, right? Why? Why can my phone vibrate in my pocket as a result of you calling me from far away, and I consider it commonplace? Why can I send this message into the wireless atmosphere of my living room, and feel it makes sense? How do I believe the television picture in front of me is simplistic--after it has been yanked from a satellite by a tiny dish on my roof?

Sometimes I think too much. But equally true is that sometimes I think we have very little faith in all things spiritual.

If you are interested in some research about the effect of prayer and well-wishing upon those in a distant place, check out the work of Elizabeth Targ. She is a bit controversial, and certainly doesn't intend to prove anything Christian. However, she has done some research that is tantalizing. I'll post a few of them for you.

http://www.uic.edu/classes/psych/psych242f/psch242spring2003/targ.htm

http://www.esalenctr.org/display/confpage.cfm?confid=8&pageid=74&pgtype=1

http://www.noetic.org/research/dh/research/DistantIntentionality.pdf

No time to edit here, so hope there aren't too many uglies in my typing.

The nagging voice of temptation: A lenten story.

2010-02-23T04:56:00.000-08:00

The glow of Sunday gatherings and joys had not yet faded late that evening. One of our newer attenders had written a response to the service on Sunday morning that her Lenten journey was very difficult, and had already produced fruits of joy. She has a background that would make you weep, and is no less a miracle witnessing to Jesus' touch than any person delivered by him in scripture stories. She text messaged me with a desperate request: "How do I respond to my [neighbor] who sent me this message?"

Her well meaning Christian friend had told her that she should not follow a Lenten fast. That her church didn't do that because it is only a tradition of men. Christ has set us free from those things, she said. She continued by saying that her church follows the Holy Spirit and his leading instead. And that they fast periodically only as he instructs them as individuals.

The hurting woman from my church (who is plagued by self-doubt and feelings of failure) was already well down the path of deciding that the blessing and gifts she was receiving via her fast were artificial. That it wasn't God blessing her. That our church was not Christian.

I asked her to tell her friend that we are trying as a church to obey a call I sensed for us as a congregation to pray and fast together. I want her to tell this sister of ours thank you for the concern, and to ask her to pray for us as we seek to become more sensitive to God's voice.

Yet in the back of my head there is an echo of a voice long ago that pursued our lord in the desert saying, "IF you are the son of God..."

How often do we in the church condemn other traditions, and belittle their attempts at following the only wise and eternal One? How often are we the voice of the devil?

And even as I condemn the judgmental ways of another, am I practicing the vice?

Lord have mercy.

Must Read Article by Barbara Brown Taylor

2010-02-21T10:36:00.000-08:00

I read an article this week which impacted me wonderfully. It also largely shaped my teaching this week. Barbara Brown Taylor is an Episcopalian priest, and a thoughtful and thought provoking author. I recently mentioned her heart-wrenching book Leaving Church at this blog.

An excellent introduction to the season of Lent, and its purposes, this article--Settling for Less is a thought provoking challenge to truly experience Lent. I invite you to read it by clicking here.

Let me know what you think.

About The Runaway Pastor and BREAKERS

2010-02-18T07:53:00.000-08:00

Just before The Runaway Pastor was published and released, I had been making chapters of another novel--BREAKERS--available here. Once The Runaway Pastor was released, my attention turned to its promotion. At least for the first month or so.

I'd like to share a bit about BREAKERS (BREAKERS is only a "working title." It could change at any time.) This is a project I've been toying with for about eight or nine years. I used to give myself the week between Christmas and New Years to write. And BREAKERS was one of the first things I began. This was long before I ever thought of being a "writer." I just wanted to play with some thoughts and questions that were playing in my mind. Those thoughts still rent space in my head. In fact, they are even more prominent than when I began writing them.

So, those of you who were following along with the development of BREAKERS, don't think that it has forever been put away. I've had it on a side burner, so to speak. But it is beginning to receive some time here and there as I write about walls between the church and the world, or proper boundaries between those "unequally yoked."

In the meantime, I continue to receive encouraging words and sales reports from The Runaway Pastor. Report after report are demonstrating that people are beginning to understand better the conflicts and trials often faced by pastors. I know of one small group that has passed it around until nearly everyone has read it. A recent review suggests hosting a discussion group centered around the book and support of their pastor.

Keep your reviews, comments and spreading the news via word of mouth going. I continue to hear words of encouragement from people in "the book industry" saying they believe Runaway may just take off.

Update on The Runaway Pastor

2010-02-15T09:24:00.000-08:00

I've had several comments about my book--The Runaway Pastor--lately from emails, facebook or just conversations when I'm out and around. I want to say thank you again for all of the encouraging remarks. It is also great to hear stories of people picking up copies at their local bookstores. And if you live within a few hours of my home in Brown County, Indiana, and think a book signing might work in your area, then feel free to contact me and we'll work something out!

I'd also like to remind you that word of mouth is the best marketing tool I have for the book, especially with no budget for marketing. Here is a great new review posted yesterday on Amazon.com . (And if you have not yet done so, your honest reviews on Amazon--or elsewhere!--would be wonderful.)

This book will make you look at your pastor differently -- with a much deeper understanding of the routine pressures they all face on a regular basis. It's amazing that more don't run away from their ministry! The story is compelling and very fast-paced. It might seem odd to say for a book about a minister, but this is a real page turner and you will want to read all the way to the end to see how it turns out. The story centers on a very successful young minister who becomes more and more disillusioned about his transformation into a CEO, rather than someone who ministers to the needs of his flock. I'm sure pastors will see a lot of themselves in the story -- but hopefully will find a better way to deal with those pressures than the protagonist. Maybe reading this book will help some pastors, and their parishioners, to take steps to alleviate the stress before it overwhelms them. The book would make a really good study and discussion starter for church-based reading groups.

Thank you again for being patient with me as I occasionally post a mention of the book. I guess that's why I started this blog in the first place!

Peace to you.

Journeys and fasts and coming alive: What are you giving up for Lent this year?

2010-02-11T09:06:00.000-08:00

I remember the first step onto the trail. It was odd--the three of us being taken from a beautiful home in the mountains, and dumped into a low-grade campsite next to a mountain lake. We "hiked" all of fifty yards before setting up our tents, and hanging our bear bags in neighboring trees. We made a campfire, had a snack and then turned in. There was a lot of hiking to do tomorrow.

The next morning we headed around the lake and up the side of a mountain. We were one hundred miles from our target destination. For the next three days, we saw no toilet, bed, shower, faucet, computer, TV, or A/C. During that time we had no cell service to receive calls or text messages. We filtered water which we drank by the gallon, and heated to prepare our coffee and dehydrated food. We washed with alcohol swabs, and slept on the ground with only a tent and sleeping bag between us and the cold nights and earth.

As we began the steep climb I wanted to quit. I knew I'd fail. I wondered if we'd be safe. I doubted myself completely. I knew it was more comfortable back home. I began to sweat and ache and stink. Why in the world was I here?

On the second evening, after a day during which we logged twenty mountain trail miles, my back ached from my pack's weight, and my feet bled from blistering. But I felt the sprouting of joy in my soul. I could do this. I was up to the rigors. I began to believe I could accomplish difficult things. My mind began to clear and my writing was alive and creative. The stuff that usually occupied me as I sought the maximum comfort in life, was nowhere in sight. I was alive...not hungry or sore or lonely or deprived!

In the years since that that hike, I have looked back on it with such longing. Those were some of the best days of my life. I long to spend time on that trail once again. Why? Because it was cushy and easy? No. Because everything that makes life easy was stripped away...and I was alive.

Lent is coming. This is your chance to fast something you heavily depend on. Something that comforts you. Something you love. Something that makes you think you are alive when you are enjoying it. Next Wednesday is the day. February 17.

What are you giving up for Lent this year?

Mud-hiking into the snow

2010-02-06T08:34:00.000-08:00

I took time before my last meetings of Thursday to do a quick hike in the hills. Mud sucked at the heels of my boots. A valley lake was blanketed in ice-turned-mush. If I hadn't watched the weather reports, I would have thought spring was beginning its thaw.

Yesterday, my day off, I made it two days in a row in the woods. The thermometer had not yet succumbed to the freezing mark. Having forgotten my trekking poles, I searched the sides of the trail until within the first mile, I'd found two downed branches--perfectly flexible and tough at the same time. My gloves soon soaked through with the snow and rain that saturated them.

I had layered well, and the rain proof outer layer worked perfectly...excepting my boots, which needed another coat of water-proofing. So I walked through a mixture of wet snow and rain, the dark sky unable to make up its mind. My toes were damp, but I decided to ignore them. The boots were warm, and my spirits were warming.

I'm beginning to think I need to be in the hills everyday, even though that is impossible. Time spent there multiplies the effectiveness of my working hours, and the pleasure of my day off. A friend once told me that our physical stress levels should match our mental ones. That makes a lot of sense, and explains why so many teach exercise as a stress reducer.

While meandering in and out of valleys and up the sides of slick hills, I sense a stillness I rarely enjoy. The world was still, and yesterday--with a storm imminent--even the skittering squirrels must have been hunkered-down. I took a couple of opportunities to stop in trail-side shelters to pause in their dryness. I found myself fighting guilt for just enjoying the view. Then I settled further into the gift of the hike and took it all in, relishing a gift that only I was opening.

When I arrived at the trail yesterday, I was in a foul mood. I should be ashamed, but must admit my self-pity. I'd forgotten my poles, the rain was steady and the snow that had already accumulated on yesterday's mud was--well, it wasn't all that inviting. But after a few gurgling streams, and allowing myself the arrival tantrum, I was able to smile--glad that you could not see me, and realizing that the ONE who did see me, still loved and embraced me in that place.

It took longer than normal to cover the distance I walked yesterday. I stood and watched rain turn to snow and snow to rain, allowing it to drip off of my hat and into my eyes. And I asked God to wash them of the selfishness that resents difficulty.

This week I've read A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life, by Donald Miller. And last night I started (and this afternoon should finish) Chasing Francis by Ian Morgan Cron. Both of these are instructing me about various aspects of my very blessed life...and how I can make my story a little less selfish and a lot more meaningful to others.

Today I will read, work on my Sunday teaching, handle an administrative task or two and call on a few hurting people. And sometime this afternoon, I hope to put on my boots (that dried by the fire last night and now have a fresh coat of water proofing), and head into the much deeper snow, covering a much colder earth. I hope to listen to the places where tiny streams have not yet submitted to the freeze. I plan to sit down by the lake and see if the snow is mush on the surface, or if the water has refrozen and supports the white blanket just as the earth around it. I will revel in the snow clinging on dark branches that define the horizon in every direction. And I hope in some way the ONE who sees me and knows me, will prepare me to be a better shepherd for the people I love and spend my life with. (I have some pix from the hike if you care to see.)

Grace and peace to you.
David

Could you do without your pastor for a few months?

2010-02-02T07:44:00.000-08:00

This post is about your pastor's need for an occasional extended leave. Some call these sabbaticals, and some call them renewal programs. What they are not is vacation. Clergy sabbaticals or renewal programs are a commonplace practice for many denominations or local churches. However, for many people who have pastors, it seems unrealistic at best or ridiculous at worst that a pastor would even desire such a thing. It takes nerve, I know, for me to write this post and then post it. In fact, if you are reading here, but aren't reading these words, then I didn't post it! [An attempt at humor.]

One reason I am able to write this, is that the leadership of the church where I pastor has granted me permission to work with them on a sabbatical scholarship proposal. By doing so, I assume they already agree with much of what is below. However, if any of them are reading here, I believe this article could help to inform them in regards to the reasons and benefits of sabbatical or renewal.

I am reading a book entitled Clergy Renewal, (Bullock/Bruesehoff--published by The Alban Institute). There is an enlightening outline in the forward. It answers the following question: Why should a congregational lay leader want their pastor to experience a regular renewal leave? The recommendation in this book is for a three months sabbatical leave once every four years. Here is a brief synopsis of the reasons given:

1) "The very nature of being a pastor involves continual spiritual growth. Spiritual growth does not happen by accident; it takes hard, intentional work. Basically it is a lifelong process involved in big chunks of time set aside for reading, prayer, solitude and reflection....Trying to do this while working between forty-five and fifty-five hours each week is nearly impossible." [I'm sorry, but I find it laughable to suggest those are sufficient hours to accomplish what must be done to keep a job in ministry...at least from my perspective. I've been told quite clearly, and found it to be true, that anything less than sixty-five--and often ten to fifteen more--hours per week will put you on the unemployment line. And these hours can't include time spent in reading, prayer, solitude or reflection. I think one reason people fail to see the rigors of a pastor's life, is they cannot understand the rigors of constant reading, prayer, solitude and reflection in their own lives. And these cannot be times spent studying for next week's lesson, training session or sermon. They must be times of being in the Presence--for the sake of that Presence alone.]

2) This item deals with the need for clergy to get away to see how other congregations are adapting to changing times.

3) "Without such renewal leave, there is a stronger chance that clergy will, over time, demonstrate the key characteristics of burnout--namely, exhaustion, cynicism, disillusionment, and self-deprecation. It has been documented that people in the helping professions tend to burn-out the fastest, in part because the constant intimate involvement with the emotional freight of other people's lives can be draining. Burned-out clergy are much more likely to leave parish ministry, or seek another call, in order to get out of a place that is wringing them dry. Should that happen, the congregation will, in turn, likely experience a twelve to eighteen month search process of another pastor. If the search committee makes the wrong choice, the congregation will end up with a pastor who is unable to bring new life to the congregation. In fact, it may cost them several years of decline--not to mention a severance package! ...Every pastoral turnover costs a congregation years of progress. Sabbatical leave helps avoid such situations." [Wow, it saddened me to see this discussion end with only the ramifications for the congregation. I can tell you from personal experience that being exhausted, cynical, disillusioned, and self-deprecating--years on end--is not a good way to live. And, when pastors leave for another local church (when they could continue on where they are if they had a leave) they are not fixing a problem, they are just masking the symptoms. Plus, their family is yanked out of yet another home town in order to feel the temporary relief of assignment change. I understand this is a list for why lay leaders would care, but most lay leaders desire to care for their pastor (and his or her family) while also caring for their congregation.]

4) "Another lethal effect of burnout is that it makes a pastor dull, hollow, and uninteresting. ...Clergy vitality is the greatest asset in building up a congregation....The paradox of congregational ministry for clergy is that they are constantly invited to overextend--there is always someone they should have called or to whom they should have given attention--but doing so can torpedo the vitality that drives their ministry. Renewal can be a powerful antidote to this kind of debilitating burnout." [Again, I'd add from the pastor's perspective that being "dull, hollow and uninteresting" is not enjoyable.]

5) "The Pastoral role generally involves long, hard hours without weekends off, or even the occasional long weekend. Pastors are rarely afforded the luxury of having two consecutive days off...every weekend involves a major output of energy on Sunday. Friday and Saturday are often consumed by sermon preparation, wedding rehearsals and weddings, and so forth. Congregations too often assume that clergy can remain vital and healthy and maintain a sound family life with only one day off per week..." [And I add here, that I was taught early on in my ministry, that a day off is a myth. That I shouldn't aspire to one. Although I have tried to make it a reality, a day off is basically impossible for a tired mind that keeps thinking of one more thing...now let's get back to the authors] "This is a crazy norm. We don't know where it comes from, but it permeates every denomination on this continent. When you add up the time off clergy miss that most lay people take for granted, it becomes clear that a three month renewal leave every four years is a reasonable proposal that helps make up for that loss."

6) This final item deals with how congregations can become overly dependent upon clergy, and sabbaticals can provide opportunity for congregations to step-up.

I hope you will consider these things. Perhaps you will want to share this post with some friends who might help you lead the way for your pastor to be given a sabbatical or renewal leave.

Please feel free to comment on this, or email me. I know this is sensitive. But in a country where pastors are leaving the ministry by more than a thousand per month, and churches are closing their doors for the last time every day...we might not want to assume anything.

Check Out the Legacies

2010-01-29T13:37:00.000-08:00

Today, I have been reading about the very interesting and challenging work of some of my best lifelong friends. When I was a teenager, my youth pastor Lindell and his wife Kay were preparing to go serve as missionaries in the Middle East. A few years later, I was the youth pastor at that same church. Little did I know that one of the guys in my youth group (Rod) would someday join them in the work there. (I also would have never dreamed that in 1992 my family would also be assigned to work there...only to have that assignment switched at the last moment, and thus sending us to the former USSR).

So today I went to the website, that in some small way defines the efforts of their lives. I am amazed at the number of countries and the size of the cities they have traversed and served. The beauty of the faces, and the smiling children move me.

Recently I have mentioned my reading list, including the book Three Cups of Tea, describing the life's work of Greg Mortenson. He has worked hard amongst people of the Himalayas, building schools in villages for children who have no other opportunity for education. He has made a special impact on the lives of young girls living in a culture where they would rarely have the opportunity for learning.

Many have come to understand Mr. Mortenson's work as a peaceful deterrent to terrorism. You will need to read the book to understand just how true this is. I like to think of the work of my friends as something similarly serendipitous. As they support schools, feed refugees fleeing wars and develop the church where it is legal, they are introducing the reign of Christ. And remember the angels' words: He will be called the Prince of Peace...

So let me encourage you to take a quick tour of the Middle East on my friend's website. Send them a note of encouragement, and think about sponsoring a child in a school in Syria, or Jordan.

Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in Heaven...

No Wounds? No Scars?

2010-01-26T12:47:00.000-08:00

I've been reading Three Cups of Tea, The New Friars and am just beginning sub-merge. These stir a deep part of me that I'm not sure I can even identify. But this post will be an attempt to do so.

In his introduction to sub-merge, John Hayes (no relation to me), speaks of this younger generation as "...increasingly disenchanted with a faith life that peaks on Sundays and wrestles the remainder of the week in a spiritual crawl space....I sense that they do not want to attend church services that confuse worship and entertainment, joy and enjoy."

I concur.

The past decade has provided me a unique opportunity to know several college and post-college Christian young people. I find them to be refreshingly radical in their outlooks and restless in their faith expressions. These are the reasons I relate to them.

Yet, I don't see this pain shared by young Christians alone. There is a radical nature in the call of Jesus that causes all sincere followers to expect adventure. I wasn't motivated to be a Christian so that I could have a cozy place to hole up on weekends. I wasn't called into ministry in order to make a living doing what I loved. My call was to make a living that mattered--to risk my life for the good of my fellow man and the planet--to introduce with my living the very reign of God.

The above mentioned books are records of risky living. They are stories--one after another--of young people going out into real and scary parts of the world, and experiencing real and scary risk. These are stories of heroes. These are stories of Jesus-meets the things that scare us most through regular ordinary people sold-out to his cause. These are the kinds of stories that drew me to faith, and that cause me to stay in it.

These stories, however, not only make me restless; they make me sad. They convict me and force me to face my safe and comfortable life. They force me to consider just how little like Jesus I have been in my expression of his reign and love. They make me understand just how little taking up my cross and following him I've done in my life.

We in North America (and "Western civilization" in general) live in a time of mega-churches and shrinking numbers of people going to church. We live in a day when following Jesus means you risk only being seen as smug, or as a prude. We will follow Jesus into the Christian bookstore, or with a fish on the back of our SUV. But we rarely fear for our health or our life or the safety or our children because of the Name. Perhaps that is why our faith is disrespected, banal, weak and bordering on being entirely useless?

Consider the radical challenge of the last lines of Amy Carmichael's poem:
No Scar?.
No wound? No scar?
Yet, as the Master shall the servant be,
And pierced are the feet that follow Me.
But thine are whole; can he have followed far
Who hast no wound or scar?

And this leads me to another couple of books. If you know of a pastor like Trent in my book, The Runaway Pastor, then you probably know one with bigger dreams than arranging for your entertainment and enjoyment on Sundays. There are a growing number of pastors who signed up to have the boldness of a firefighter or a Navy Seal, and have found themselves never risking a broken nail... They are leaving churches in percentages even more shocking than American Christians. You can read another one of their stories in Leaving Church a book by Barbara Brown Taylor. I've read it with tears of understanding, and it's on my nightstand again.

Quiet strength

2010-01-19T18:48:00.000-08:00

It is Tuesday night. Silence. I strain to hear some sound from within or without our cabin. None. Even the glow from the wood stove is withholding its usual tick...tick. Two students in the house are studying. My wife is recovering from the flu by sleeping noiselessly.

I sat with a friend and her family today. Brave sons, daughter and husband; loving siblings and nieces and others sobbed their good-byes to her. We watched and wept as she breathed her last, ending what has been a rugged, ragged cancer-path. It is a loud agony to lose loved ones...even for those of faith. Yet a Silence prevailed in the room, hovering somewhere near the hearts of those who wept and embraced and spoke of their undying love for the departed, and for one another.

Somehow in scenes such as these--and I've witnessed many--there is a Peace that offers itself. Loved ones, between bouts of grief's wracking pain, seem to lean back into the Stillness, finding Rest even in the early moments of their grief journey.

Often when our spirits are present near the borderlands of life and death, we come-away humbled, quieted and still. Somehow midst these toughest of times, we discover that we have been renewed by the stripping-away of all. Because we have not been made bare: Love clothes us.

We sure do love to talk! Christian education by going and doing.

2010-01-12T07:19:00.000-08:00

We use Sunday School, Vacation Bible School, and we send our children to a special worship service designed for them. Some people fortify these with a Christian preschool through Christian College education. And some Christians choose the home-schooling route. There are many ways that we can, and do, give Christian teaching to our children.

I remember when we moved to start a church in a growing community. We prayed for and sought one dozen Christians to join my wife, children and I in the process of planting this new church. There were a handful of large Churches (of one thousand or more) in the area, and we tried with their pastor's support, to recruit a few families. We ended up finding some people who were willing, but it took a while! And there was one big reason people refused to step-up: their children. "We want our children to get the best Christian education they can get," parents would say as they gave us their best "surely you understand" look.

A few years later, we had connected more than 80 adults and 60 children to our faith. Then, several of them were convinced to leave our young church and go to one of the biggies which had bigger classes, better facilities and all. And that was OK. We had connected them to Christ, which was our aim. A pastor of one of those mega-churches told me that we were reaching unconnected people faster than his congregation. (And that was because we were a new church, and new churches reach new people faster than any other kind of church. But church planting isn't my point today.)

Often, when parents would tell me they couldn't risk their child's eternity on a small church that met in a school (and didn't have color coded slides for children to ride down to their age-group classes), I would try and tell them that kids can learn in a mission type setting. My own kids were taken overseas to a foreign land when they were 4 and 8. There was no established Sunday School or fancy curricula. Their teacher hadn't even had time to learn the basic bible stories our children already knew. What could they learn in that foreign land?

Maybe seeing us live out the faith they were being taught? Maybe joining us as we left friends and family behind for the sake of the call was a lesson? Maybe even our 8 year old telling her new teacher about how to teach memory verses (by erasing one word at a time and having the class quote the verse with what was left) or the two of them doing a Christmas play--our son played shepherd, wise men and Joseph; while our 8 year old was Mary and the director of the production-- maybe?

I'm reading some books about people who go and immerse themselves in another culture and live the life of Jesus amongst them. I'm remembering that nearly every important lesson I've ever learned about being a Christian has come when outside of a classroom setting, I took action.

I am grateful for having had the benefit of good Sunday Schools, a youth group and a Christian University Education. Yet as important as those things were, I believe that growing up with a tool-maker dad who played ball with me and disciplined me and taught me of the faith; and being with a housewife mom who loved me, fed me, made sure I got up in time to get to school, and prayed with me like my dad--these two people taught me what it meant to be like Jesus. And between public school days and dirty talking friends I had plenty of "bad influences." But I was a kid baptized and taught the ways of Jesus. And I was taught that faith in action is important.

I remember painting lines on the church parking lot with my dad. I was just a kid, and evidently he went to the right meeting or volunteered to help, but there we were at the hardware store buying chalk-line and chalk, and paint and rollers. Something about seeing the cars lined-up in an orderly fashion that next Sunday made me feel dignified, important. Painting lines taught me to obey in bigger areas...like when I was called to move overseas or when I left a strong church of 250 to start a new one with only the four of us.

I'm just saying...

Dark silences: Where is God when there is no comfort?

2010-01-09T08:22:00.000-08:00

I'm studying my text for tomorrow's sermon: Luke 3:1-18. I am struck by words I usually skip over in this text. They are found in verse 2: "the word of God came to John."

So many times we read in the Old Testament of an absence of a word from God. The Psalmists often cry out for God not to be silent. Yet, as the ministry of John is introducing the Kingdom coming in Jesus, God is breaking what has been a 400 year period of silence. "...the word of God came to John...in the desert."

I typically think God's word comes to his people when they are desperate to hear it. Yet, that is not necessarily true. Abraham had a promise, and then decades of waiting. Moses had a call, then forty years of ranching in Midian with seemingly no further attention from "the comforter." Mother Teresa's life ended with years of agonizing emptiness and silence from God. Martin Luther knew silence: "Bless us Lord, even curse us, but don't remain silent." St. John of the Cross wrote of the Dark Night of the Soul. Jesus, feeling no promise, and soon God's absence (My God, why have you forsaken me?), went to the cross out of sync with his Father ("Not what I will but your will be done...") Evidently, human longing and desperation do not force God into communication mode.

There is a saying: "It's often dark at the foot of the lighthouse." Hmmm.

I will say that I have known years of dear closeness to the word of God. And I also see myself as largely a failure in the decade and a half of the "dark night" of God's apparent silence. I have to agree with a converted Turkish Muslim (Ziya Meral) who notes that two-thirds of all Christian martyrs since the first century, were killed in the twentieth century. He wonders: "Where is God when millions of his children are being persecuted in the most brutal ways? Why does he keep silent in the middle of persecution, but speak loudly in the middle of conferences with famous speakers and worship bands?" Having chosen the narrow way, it seems faithful pilgrims are often left to their stalwart and faithful obedience, without the comfort of God's evident presence or comfort. Meral again quotes Luther: "God often, as it were, hides himself, and will not hear; yeah, will not suffer himself to be found."

I am looking forward to teaching from Luke tomorrow. And I'm not sure whether I should be encouraged by the fact that God's very faint speaking has been heard in my spirit again this week. And my last few days have been as low and difficult as any I've lived for a while.

Praying that I may be faithful in the days before me, and with the tasks at hand.

Day-off musings, reading, and becoming...

2010-01-08T08:46:00.000-08:00

My exchange student daughter is weaving her way further into my heart right now. She sits in my home speaking face to face with her real parents (thanks to the miracle of Skype) and her laughter and smiles are lighting up our living room. Her mother, father and sister are enjoying a conversation with her, and they seem to be having such fun. Skype is amazing.

This being my "day off," I enjoyed a breakfast with the family this morning. I held Laynie and ate eggs, sausage and homemade scones. It is still snowing outside, and it is beautiful. The northwest edges of the trees are outlined in white, and our German Shepherd is frolicking about as if it is dog-Christmas. The stove is hissing and putting out heat in our pioneer aged cabin.

I got some new books this week, gifts purchased with a little Christmas money. The first one I've started is The New Friars, which tells the stories of dozens of young people who are forsaking all wealth, and moving to live with the poorest of the poor in ways reminiscent of the ancient monastics. I'm gaining theological insight into what I've always heard termed "compassionate ministry." Last night I enjoyed a chapter about St. Francis of Assisi, and Sister Clare. These are amazing and adventurous stories of lives turned around. Next on the list is sub-merge: living deep in a shallow world, and Follow Me to Freedom: Leading as an Ordinary Radical.

If you have been following along here, you may know that I am in a bit of a personal reformation. It is like pieces of a giant puzzle in my life are coming together and creating a picture of a future that I had never envisioned. No, I'm not planning to go live in a garbage dump in Asia or South America. But I believe I can make a difference in the spiritual and physical poverty of world where I live. I am staying tuned and discovering that God is very willing to respond to my desires to serve, when they center around serving those in need.

I may even have a good idea brewing for what Trent of The Runaway Pastor is about to do with his life in the sequel...

Grace and peace to you.

Runaway Pastor

2010-01-06T14:11:00.000-08:00

The first couple of months of sales of The Runaway Pastor have been very encouraging. This type of a project is never a fast take-off, however, there has been a great deal of interest in the book and its message. It is gratifying. And I want to say thank you.

I also want to thank the readers of this rather schizophrenic blog. Sometimes you come here and get an add for my book. At other times, you have followed chapter by chapter as I began another. (BREAKERS is still on the back burner.) Sometimes you here the love of a pastor for his people, and at others, you see the steam rise from my cheeks as I try to find wisdom to lead in a way that seems relevant. So thank you for checking in here. There is someone here monthly from almost each one of the United States, and from a few dozen countries. It is gratifying to know you check in. Thanks. And remember, I appreciate it when you sign in as a "follower," leave your check (as very few do) in the opinion boxes at the bottom of each post, and use the feed provided so you know when something new is posted here.

Runaway? Or running to?

2010-01-04T10:45:00.000-08:00

Running away must be such an easy short-term victory. In The Runaway Pastor I began telling the tale of a runner. Trent Atkins is a pastor who can't stand it any longer. And so he runs, from both his church and wife.

I've been so grateful for all of the people who work other occupations and yet identify with this urge to run. I've heard from business owners, nurses, wives, teachers and seemingly a representative from every occupation under the sun--that running is a temptation. Yet, I want to beg the attention of all non-clergy here for just a minute. I want you to consider that perhaps the temptation to be a runaway pastor is a bit different.

What if your occupation was to lead your best friends in their obedience to God? What if you believed the very future of your community and world depended upon how well those you lead succeed in being the person and presence of Jesus to their world? Trent ran, not because of the many details of his work, but because the ONE OVERRIDING purpose of his life and calling was not being met: To usher in the kingdom of God. Trent, like most pastors would gladly deal with the pressures, if he only believed he was leading a congregation full of people who were committed to world change. Surely, Jesus asks no less of any of us who claim to be his followers.

Pastors despair, in my opinion, not because of the difficulty of the task--and it is difficult--but because of the seeming irrelevancy. We are called to change the world, and soon find ourselves maintaining an institution.

A week ago Sunday, I laid down a dare to my congregation. In so many words I said: "I either have to find a way to lead us into meeting the needs of our community, or I need to quit and get out of the way so that someone can. The urgency of God's calling in my life is beyond just trying to preach good sermons to good people. The core of what Christ wants to accomplish in our world is so far beyond just 'growing a church,' that the very terminology sickens me.

"I live in a methamphetamine blemished county. I live near parents who can't or won't care for their children. Our school system is drowning in academic needs, and trying to fix human problems with government dollars; all the while what they really need is for someone to love kids into a new way of doing life. We as Christians must quit insisting on putting a layer of insulation between ourselves and the needs around us--such as giving money or old clothes to someone else to help people who are hurting. What our community needs is the very person and presence of Jesus rubbing up against the hurts and agonies that plague us."

"In Brown County, Indiana, we have excellent teachers who love the children in their classrooms, but simply cannot be the physical, emotional, spiritual and academic lifelines of so many. We have outstanding administrators and principles who are giving their lives to see the children of our county know academic and life success. It is time for us to quit trying to bring children into our building to hear a sweet lesson about a sweet Jesus. Instead we need to go and be Jesus, live him and touch the rough edges of young lives. If they are hungry, we need to feed them, if they need a call in the morning to get them up for school, or a ride when they miss the bus or someone to help them learn to read...we need to be present."

And perhaps--if I may be so presumptuous to hazard a guess--this is why so many people are tempted to quit whatever it is they are doing. Is there a disconnect between our tasks and our passions? Do nurses have this hidden desire to nurture and care for patients instead of paperwork? Do teachers have some strange latent passion for students to read or write, instead of trying to work their way up to some well-to-do community, where the pay is better and the pressures fewer?

I do not have the answers. But I've decided I can no longer stand aside, or worse yet run away from the problems. And so, as a new year begins, I have decided to run toward them. And I may fail. And my leadership may fall far short of its passions. But for now, while I have a chance and before I am empty of strength, I will continue to run toward what I perceive to be the need around me.

Christmas and New Year: Just another lap around the sun?

2010-01-02T15:56:00.000-08:00

I've written this sermon for 30 years now. Not only is each week a fresh challenge to find something profound to write, and then speak, to people waiting for encouragement; each year brings around this familiar set of texts, and these texts take my mind to the same old places. Joseph and Mary travel to Bethlehem. Jesus is born in and laid in a manger. Shepherds and wise men visit. John reminds us that the Word became flesh, and we didn't recognize him.

I guess what I am saying is, it's easy to feel like these Christmas truths are at best familiar territory--and at worst tired lessons. Was Christ born anew this year? Is there anything fresh in my spirit after having led a congregation through another advent--a full lap around the advent wreath's four candles before lighting the Christ Candle at almost midnight on Christmas eve? Or did I return home, stuff stockings and hit the bed as if I'd clicked off another pastoral obligation?

I'm guessing most of us have put away our Christmas decorations this weekend. Our tree is outside in the cold, and the gift wrap is all thrown away. But across the living room from me--on a gate-leg table--shepherds are bowing before a king. A mother and father are standing back in awe of what God has done. And even the cattle, a donkey and some sheep seem unusually aware that something big has happened.

I'm trying to experience Christmas as I hit it's second Sunday tomorrow. Hope I didn't miss it the first time around. And if so, I hope to find it yet--tucked away somewhere beyond my habit-bound-heart, in the fresh flesh of my seeking spirit.

Joy to the World: How to find the holiday spirit again

2009-12-23T07:35:00.000-08:00

Had a great time at Shepherd Community in Indianapolis the other night. This is becoming my favorite event of the season. We assisted clients to pick-out Christmas gifts for their children and then wrap them. I have been praying for the Latino mother I assisted with my weak Spanish and glowing heart.

If you don't know about Shepherd Community, check this out.

If you are struggling to find the joy in the Christmas, look for it among those who are hurting this season. Visit someone who is sick, or in prison. Or take some food to someone who doesn't have enough. Perhaps you could donate to a well drilling project for some African village? Maybe you could buy some new clothes--just like the ones you buy for your family--to give to someone who doesn't have enough. Maybe you could watch the video at the web link above and donate $5 or $500 dollars to Shepherd Community?

Joy to the world.

Monday Mornings

2009-12-21T08:31:00.000-08:00

Fatigue wraps its fog around my mind as I trudge my way into an other Monday. Yesterday was a good day. Last night was a short night. This morning came early, sliding sideways down my hill in 4-wheel-drive, on my way to a friend's surgery. He did well.

The morning is gray and dense. Trees and the hills in the distance are merely suggestions, hints that their shaded outlines have material reality. My mind is a similar a fog. I know I'll wake up somewhat tomorrow--a Tuesday tradition. But while I plod along in this misty place, and still try in vain to prepare for Christmas Eve services and the Sunday to come; I'll hold memories of the laughter last evening while gathered around our living room with friends. And I'll grin in the grayness.

More reviews from Amazon...

2009-12-15T04:53:00.000-08:00

Another couple of reviews of The Runaway Pastor that I'd like for you to check out. The first is by a guy that is "many years removed from any participation in a church community."

The Runaway Pastor is a novel that provides a catalyst for discussion of what it means to be a pastor. The book led me to wonder what inspires--or calls--an individual to become a minister. As a person who has been many years removed from any participation in a church community, I have often wondered what keeps a person devoted to such a calling day after day. I admire the author, David Hayes, for writing a story that honestly portrays characters with serious flaws in their lives. So often, we look at people who have chosen lives of service as being infallible or nearly superhuman. For me, that applies equally to those who dedicate themselves to serve others in many other professions other than in the church.

Finally, I would say that the characters in this novel are believable and they keep you reading to see what becomes of them. With that said, I feel that there is more to this story that needs to be told. There were so many characters whose lives were intertwined with the story's central character, Trent Atkins. Although I admire the integrity and selflessness of Trent, I feel that his zealous quest for redemption affected so many people around him. As Trent continued his journey to 'find himself', I kept wondering what happened to all those people whose lives he influenced. Did he run away from them as well? Perhaps this is my own wishful thinking, but I would really like a sequel to this novel. Jim from Illinois

I love this book. When I think of a pastor, I think of someone who has it all together, someone who listens to problems, someone who doesn't have problems. This book made pastors real people for me. I think everyone will be able to relate to this book. I love the characters, I love the way it was written. I can't say enough good things about it. It made me think about my own life and how at times I've wanted to run. And it left me wanting wanting more. Can't wait for the next. There better be a next! Elizabeth from Indiana