Mar 9, 2024 | Pastor Jim's Blog
Today’s Word from Pastor Jim…
It was drummed into us at Seminary. Each sermon must find a balance between the law and the gospel. The law and our genuine inability to live up to the law, offers us a constant reminder of our human failings. This part of the sermon is painfully true, but not very encouraging. The law convicts us, it underscores our need for a Savior. The law acts like a meat tenderizer, softening up the parishioners and paving the way for the gospel. Gospel literally means “good news.” The balance we were told is critical, one without the other will lead to despair, or to cheap grace. If there is an overabundance of grace without the counterbalance of the law, then the good people might assume that they don’t really need Jesus or the church. A sermon must find balance, the cattle prod that pushes us to Jesus. Jesus, the grace filled Savior who never met a sinner that he did not like, and never met a dead body that he did not raise. There must be a balance between LAW and GOSPEL. Now in theory, this all makes sense, but in practice I have found it to be poppycock.
Trinity Lutheran Church is a place of Grace! Broken, imperfect, terrified, insecure people like me come to Trinity every week. They tune in online or show up in person and they are enveloped by grace for an hour or two. And therein lies the problem: an hour or two of grace can be easily overwhelmed by the remaining 167 hours in our week. The reality is that many of us never experience grace except in church. And even at church we are confronted with voices tempting us to compare ourselves to others, unaware of the brokenness that hides behind their masks. There is no escaping the law. Our families are… shall we say complicated, our workplaces are competitive, the company does not really care about us, our bodies are aging, our minds are forgetful, big oil is not concerned with your tight finances, the ferries are off schedule, the medical system is a mess, and by the way, you are too fat or too skinny. All week we encounter the law, the last thing I need on Sunday morning is some preacher reminding me that I don’t measure up. We are most certainly privileged, we are most certainly among the most blessed people in the world, but when we drag our aching keister to church on Sunday morning we are no different from the frail, fragile, diseased, pathetic crowds that followed Jesus around the Galilee looking for a word of hope.
There is no balance between law and gospel. The law is under our bed, in the mirror, in the flashing lights of a state patrol car, in a marriage where tender words are rendered silent, in children who are in rehab, in school shootings, climate change, and that wretched scale that always tells the truth. We are starving for good news! We long for words of hope! We hobble forward, extending our jittery hands to receive bread and wine. Give me Jesus! Give me grace! Come on preacher, what do you have for me?
We are loved, we are forgiven, and we are never alone. We share our humanity, there is nothing we can do to make God love us more and there is nothing we can do to make God love us less. How is that for Grace? Now believe it, and share it, and have compassion for family members, neighbors and strangers who journey on in a world of law.
I am one beggar, telling another beggar where to find bread. I am your
Pastor Jim
Contact Pastor Jim if you have questions at [email protected]
Mar 2, 2024 | Pastor Jim's Blog
Today’s Word from Pastor Jim…
Ask them, just ask one of the elders of our community about a dark time in their lives. Their stories of survival will inspire wonder. The human condition is one of beautiful brokenness. No one escapes, no one is unscathed in life, but we are promised that no season of darkness will last forever. I was sitting in a restaurant on a day off from work, dressed casually in one of my Trinity Lutheran Church tee shirts, my breakfast was placed in front of me, my mouth began to water. Sitting at the next table, a woman in her early 40’s asked me what I had ordered. She then commented on my shirt. “My daughter’s name is Trinity. I could not help but notice her name on your shirt.” Pointing to a tattoo on her left arm she said, “This is my daughter Trinity, she died a year ago, but she is always with me.” Her grief was apparent, but there we no tears. Her tears had given way now to a tender smile as she touched her arm and spoke of Trinity. The grief will forever be with her, but the seasons had changed, as they always do.
Ask them, just ask a friend, neighbor, or stranger about a dark time in their lives and be prepared for stories that will inspire your journey. Winston Churchill carried the weight of the free world on his shoulders. In the early years of World War 2 he seemed to stand alone against a seemingly unbeatable foe. London was devasted by the unrelenting bombing raids that marked the Battle of Britain. Churchill faced impossible odds, but he refused to give up hope. He encouraged the citizens of the United Kingdom to remain vigilant, he stayed by their side, he persisted when others would have fled, he cajoled and badgered the United States to join the war effort. On June 18th, 1940, Churchill addressed the House of Commons on the heels of the disaster at Dunkirk saying, “Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duty and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say: This was their finest hour.”
Ask them, just ask a friend, neighbor, or stranger about a dark time in their lives. Churchill said, “If you are going through hell, just keep on going.” The message was clear, the current circumstances of life will not last forever, the seasons will change, the darkness of night will give way to the dawn of a new day if we can hold on. “Hold on, hold on, keep your eyes on the prize, hold on.” Martin Luther King, Jr. understood that the battle for Civil Rights would never be lost, unless the people who longed for justice lost hope. Maintaining hope in uncertain seasons is the key to the survival of a moment, or the survival of an individual. Like Churchill before him, King would inspire hope in a future that seemed veiled, invisible, or even impossible. King did not negate the difficulty of the struggle, but he encouraged action saying, “If you can’t fly then run, if you can’t run then walk, if you can’t walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward.”
At any given time, there are many in our congregation, in our families, in our community who are deeply distressed, depressed, lonely, afraid, nearly out of hope, wondering if they can face even another day. If you are languishing in a season of darkness, if you are finding hope hard to come by, I would encourage you to ask others for help or at least for perspective. Ask them, just ask a friend, neighbor, or stranger about the dark seasons of their lives. The human story, indeed all our stories, are more alike than one might think. Our shared human story is one of beautiful brokenness. What will those dark tales have in common? They were mere seasons, one among many, the cold winter nights will give way to warmer and longer days. What do they have in common? The darkness was fleeting. The war came to an end, Europe would be reborn, a mother could run her fingers over Trinity’s tattoo with a slight smile on her face, mourning will step aside that the dancing may begin. “Hold on, hold on, keep your eyes on the prize, hold on.”
President Franklin Roosevelt, disabled and sometimes discouraged by the Great Depression and the Great World War, inspired our nation saying, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.” He also said, “If you come to the end of your rope, make a knot and hold on.”
Hold on my friends. I am one beggar, telling another beggar where to find bread. I am your
Pastor Jim
Contact Pastor Jim if you have questions at [email protected]
Feb 24, 2024 | Pastor Jim's Blog
Today’s Word from Pastor Jim…
After 38 years of parish ministry, I have a vast assortment of files. Multiple file cabinets, computers and somewhere in the Cloud there are literally hundreds of files. There is a file of thank you notes that bring a smile to my face. There is file of angry notes that chronicle some of my missteps and the musings of crabby Christians. There are thousands of sermons, a thousand more missives like this one, church council files, scholarship files, HR files, confirmation essays, wedding files, endowment reports and building plans.
Recently I pulled out a file that was more than a thousand pages, it is an assortment of prayers. Prayers used by our congregation during worship, prayers for special occasions, prayers lifted to God over three decades. In perusing the prayers, I noticed that most of the prayers seemed to be unanswered. It was also clear upon further examination that though the words changed from week to week, the prayers requests were remarkably consistent over all those years.
We have prayed for the sick among us, sadly most of the people who made it to our prayer list have died. We have prayed for peace in the Middle East and yet there is no peace. We repeatedly pray for the homeless, those who are hungry, for God’s creation entrusted to us, and for an end to racism, greed, bigotry and religious judgmentalism. Every few months a new conflict, war, or natural disaster shows up in the prayers. This all got me to wondering, do our prayers make a difference? Is anybody listening? Why do the good prayers of good people go unheeded?
I prayed about it, I shook my fist to heaven a little, taking a chance on a thunderbolt coming my way, secretly hoping that it would if only to prove that God was listening. And then in the Epiphany season, I had one, an epiphany that is. While it is true that most of those that we prayed for had died, it was also that we helped them to die, we comforted and cared for them to the very end. We ministered to their grieving families, and we honored them with a respectful and hopeful funeral.
People are still hungry but worldwide those percentages have decreased, and we have collectively given hundreds of thousands, maybe even a million dollars to alleviate hunger. There are homeless people on our streets and in refugee camps across the world. We have not solved the problem of homelessness, but Habitat for Humanity of Island County was birthed at TLC, the Tiny Houses in Langley have provided homes for our island neighbors, and a TLC ministry called His Hands Extended continues to bring critical food, clothing, essential personal items, and hope to God’s children who live on the streets of our cities.
Religious self-righteous Christians will be with us always, but TLC was among the first to celebrate same gender marriages, our communion table is open to all, seekers, skeptics, and doubters are encouraged to be a part of our family. Peace in the Middle East? That is beyond us, we are simply not capable of understanding the complexities of the issues and we are certainly not in a position to negotiate peace. Having said that, I hope that our families are more peaceful, and our neighborhoods are more friendly because of the prayers we have offered.
Tomorrow we will once again lift our prayers to God. My prayer file will be expanded once again. To be honest I am not sure how this all works, in fact, at times I am not sure that it is working at all, but I see signs of hope. With a 38-year perspective, I can see that our prayers have inspired us to change the world. Our prayers have emboldened us to swing hammers, to write cards, to wash feet, to offer comfort, to feed the hungry, to build and dream, to believe that God can use us to bring healing to a broken world. Maybe that is the point, God was never going to sweep in and make all things right, God is not genie at our beck and call. We have been called to be the hands and feet of God in this world. That’s how it works, and in many ways, it is working.
I am one beggar, telling another beggar where to find bread. I am your
Pastor Jim
Contact Pastor Jim if you have questions at [email protected]
|
Feb 17, 2024 | Pastor Jim's Blog
Today’s Word from Pastor Jim…
I have officiated at more than 900 funerals and half that many weddings. Weddings are technically harder, there is more choreography, there are more clients to please, the hosts feel an obligation to provide lavish hospitality for their guests, drinking often begins before the ceremony, and with two mothers, one bride and a wedding coordinator there are usually six different opinions. Weddings are also much more expensive. This raises the stakes, and the sense of entitlement. When it comes to success, in the short term, every couple who shows up, ends up married regardless of what unforeseen happenings might arise. Over the decades to come all bets are off; it is not easy staying married. My success rate at tying the knot is currently at 68.2 percent.
Funerals tap into a much different range of emotions. The community, filled with joy at a wedding, now finds itself in varying stages of grief. The loss experienced is real, people of faith look forward to a hope for heavenly reunion, but they also know that there is no hope of ever experiencing that reunion in this world. Wardrobe color coordination is much simpler, just wear black. There is no florist, photographer or caterer on site. Funerals are simpler in most every way. Unlike weddings not a single member of the surviving family has ever been buried before, very few spend extravagant money on guests, no drinking is involved, and when it is over our loved one has been remembered respectfully and buried. My success rate at funerals is one hundred percent, with not a single corpse complaining or rising from the dead.
This February morning just after Valentine’s Day provides us with an opportunity to consider and manage our expectations. Michael J. Fox is one of the most successful actors of our time, a star of the small screen and the big screen. His life and his livelihood were forever changed when he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. His battle has been honest and public. He has raised millions for research and inspired millions with his attitude. Fox writes, “My happiness grows in direct proportion to my acceptance, and in inverse proportion to my expectations.” By accepting life as it is and letting go of personal or societal expectations, Michael J. Fox continues to find meaning and happiness in his life. Can we live in the moment, can we enjoy each sunrise and sunset, can we break bread with others not finding it necessary to judge them, can we live each day without focusing on those things that are lacking in our lives?
At counseling sessions before the big day arrives, I remind the couple that living with someone over decades is insanely difficult. It is work, and it will always be work. Joyful work? Yes, but the vows that are exchanged are for life, and making this marriage work will be the greatest challenge of their life. In the wedding meditation, I tell them that there will most certainly be more tears than red roses, chocolate, and romantic getaways. In the years ahead they will doubt themselves, their spouse, and their love for each other. If this crazy idea of marriage is to last, then their love must be patient, kind, and compassionate, with heavy doses of forgiveness.
The author Jodi Picoult writes these words, “There are two ways to be happy: improve your reality, or lower your expectations.”
If you expect your love or marriage to be perfect, you are going to be disappointed. If you think that your body or mind will function as they did when you were 35 years old, you are setting yourself up for unhappiness. If you expect politicians to worry more about their constituents and less about reelection, well good luck. What should we expect? We should expect that we will stand at graveside in the year to come. We should expect moments of joy punctuated by, and interrupted by, darkness and sorrow. We should expect our loved ones to be frail humans who disappoint us from time to time. We should expect 2024 to be filled with many of the same problems that marked the previous thousand years.
I will leave you today with a word of wisdom to guide you and a simple prayer as you seek to navigate the year and manage your expectations:
Jesus said, “’You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
I am one beggar, telling another beggar where to find bread. I am your
Pastor Jim
Contact Pastor Jim if you have questions at [email protected]
Feb 10, 2024 | Pastor Jim's Blog
Today’s Word from Pastor Jim…
“What I’ve found in my research is that realism and self-honesty are the antidote to ego, hubris, and delusion.” – Ryan Holiday
The transition happens twice. The first is rather predictable, the second is most certainly inevitable. In between is a period of illusion, when the frail nature of our humanity looms distant, and the reality of our morality escapes us.
We spent time with our grandchildren over the Christmas holiday. There are five of them now, the oldest is seven years old and the youngest is one. Our granddaughter Ava turned two in November. She is a darling, she tries to keep up with the older brothers, she carries a football in one hand and her baby in the other. When it was time to open presents this Christmas, the brothers moved quickly through the wrapping paper revealing a toy or game. Ava was having trouble with the ribbon on her present, she looked at me and said, “Help me Bapa.” I was happy to assist her, and once the ribbon was off, she was good to go. This litany continued over the family vacation in a variety of situations, Ava would ask for help getting in and out of the pool, going potty, pushing elevator buttons. “Help me,” she said, with not the least bit of hesitation or shame.
The transition happens twice. The first is rather predictable, the second is most certainly inevitable.
Brooks is a sweet a little boy who will turn five next Spring. He is a third born grandson. No longer a toddler, he has transitioned to a new phase of independence. One evening I offered my help as he navigated a rather tricky circular staircase. He wanted none of it, “Bapa, I do it myself.” Unless there was pain, or some egregious transgression by his older cousins, he did not want to be helped; he wanted to be independent.
“There’s no such thing as an independent person.” – Peter Jennings
The transition happens twice. The first is rather predictable, the second is most certainly inevitable.
In the years between the first transition and the second, we enjoy a season of illusionary independence. Short of accident, disease, or some grave injustice, we do not like to ask for assistance. We are more than happy to offer assistance to others, but asking for help, admitting that we need help, is somehow viewed as a weakness, it is an assault on our ego. Consequently, in our hubris we often go it alone, rather than to use the simple words of our younger years, “Help me.” The author Anne Lamott writes that human prayers lifted up to almighty God ultimately fall into two categories: “Help me, help me, help me,” and “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
I have spent my entire life caring for people who are transitioning for the second time, and they don’t like it at all. The journey of a lifetime brings with it an inevitable toll on the body and mind. There is no escaping it in the end. We move slower, our bodies creak out of bed, our bathroom cabinet resembles a pharmacy, stairs look daunting, we give up skiing and sky diving. After decades of expansion, our world now becomes smaller with each passing year. We still desire to say, “I do it myself,” but the reality is that we need to utter the words, “Help me.”
In the garden our first parents were tempted not with an apple, but with the promise of independence. If you eat of the apple, you will have knowledge, you will be like God, you will not have to depend on God to provide food or care. The first humans were scammed, there is no such thing as independence in this world or the next. We are creatures, we need help, we need to help each other, and we need to embrace our shared humanity by asking for help. There is no shame in asking for help.
It was a family Christmas vacation, there were fourteen of us, the middle generation adults were quick to care for their children, but they also uttered these words, “Are you OK Bapa, how is your bursitis, can we give you a hand?” And in the ultimate transition they now reach for the bill after dinner. I am in the midst of the second inevitable transition.
I am one beggar, telling another beggar where to find bread. I am your
Pastor Jim
Contact Pastor Jim if you have questions at [email protected]
Feb 3, 2024 | Pastor Jim's Blog
Today’s Word from Pastor Jim…
She was dying. She was also 34 years old. Her two children and her husband were by her side at Whidbey General Hospital. She was dying but she had been dying for some time; fighting cancer, hoping against hope that she could live to raise her children. She was dying, tired, weak, and worn. We stood in a circle around her bed, holding her hand, stroking her hair, listening for her labored tender words. She was awake, she was aware, she was talking to us. The doctor had told her husband to “call your pastor,” and so I was there with them. There was no hope now of recovery, it was time to decide; she could be kept alive longer, in pain, waiting to leave this world, or was it time to just let go, to stop all life prolonging measures, to remove all outside assistance, to increase the morphine that would relieve pain but render her less than conscious. I read scripture and we prayed. We do not worship life, we only worship God and we trust God in our living and in our dying. She was ready to go. There were many tears, many long embraces, last words, the final gifts of a sacred time.
The medical staff was alerted, as they entered the room, a loving husband checked one more time with his beloved, she nodded to affirm the decision. The life support was taken off, there was no immediate response or change. Slowly she lost consciousness, her breathing became more labored. I stayed for another hour or two. The next afternoon I returned to the hospital, the young mother was not surfacing anymore, the family was past exhausted, mentally and physically. The husband, a man of faith, was angry now, angry not at cancer, not angry over the decision that they had made to let her go. He was angry at God. We had entrusted her to God, there was no value in this long labor toward death. “Why would God allow her to hang on this way?” I tried to comfort him, appropriate pastoral care kept me from telling him the truth.
It was a week earlier that this mother of two had died peacefully in her own bed, in her own home. God had taken her, she had crossed over to the other side, but 911 was called, the paramedics arrived. They did their job as they were trained, they miraculously brought her back to life, loaded her in an aid car and transported her to Whidbey General Hospital. Humans playing God. It happens all the time, in this case playing God saw the exchange of a peaceful death for an agonizing week of family trauma.
We do not worship life. We only worship God. Consequently, we should not keep bodies functioning at all costs. I believe that we should have the right to death with dignity. The truth is, we have not exactly figured out how to do that. Helping someone to go is more complicated than doing all that we can to save them. Opponents of death with dignity, assisted suicide even, would say that we cannot play God, we should let nature take its course. But in reality, very few of us would be alive today without those heart bypasses, stints, blood thinners or cancer drugs. If you are a part of the medical profession or have spent time around hospitals, you know that miracles happen all the time, and I so appreciate the medical advances that have increased our lifespans and enhanced our quality of life. But there is a point when death is no longer the enemy. There is a point to simply say enough is enough. Death with dignity is not “playing God” any more than a heart transplant, or perhaps I should say that both are equally “playing God.”
I still see her family from time to time, dad remarried as she hoped he would, the children have mostly grown up, the trauma of their mother’s death will always be a part of their story. May God give us wisdom as we navigate the complicated ethics of a changing world.
One beggar telling another beggar where to find bread, I am your
Pastor Jim
Contact Pastor Jim if you have questions at [email protected]
