Mothers from Minot

Bethel Lutheran Church where I serve is a large church, and we have visitors every weekend.  It is not at all uncommon to have visitors introduce themselves to me, or family members who belong to Bethel introduce their guests.

So, it would not be unusual to meet someone from a city almost 600 miles from Rochester on any given Sunday.  This past Sunday, a woman came through the line and was pleased to introduce me to the older woman behind her--her mother from Minot, North Dakota.  My smile collapsed into concern as I asked if she had suffered loss in the recent Minot flooding.  This gracious woman quickly assured me that she was all right and was in Rochester for a visit.  She lived on a hill, and her home and possessions would be fine, though she grieved for all the loss that her friends and city were suffering.  I was relieved for her, though the people of Minot continued in our prayers for the day.

It would not be unusual for me to meet a woman from a town of 40,000 people 600 miles from here.  But two from the same city on the same day?  After the next service, a woman wanted to introduce me to her mother.  She had come from Minot, and the Bethel member wanted me to have a kind word with her mother since she had lost everything in the flood.

It took just a little while to locate her in the crowd.  Clearly she was downcast, but there was a strong resolve about her as well.  Her house was filled with water.  They had been told they did not need flood insurance, but this was a 1,000 year flood, according to experts.  While she was visiting in Rochester with her daughter, she wondered if the move to Rochester might be permanent.  With the damage done, she could see her home simply being pushed in by heavy equipment and destroyed.

Two mothers from Minot in the same day.  One's home was safe, and the other's was destroyed.  In the Bible we read that the rain falls on the just and the unjust (Matthew 5:45).  We do not know why it is that some prosper and some suffer cataclysmic loss.  We do know that we are to thank God for blessings, and we are to be a blessing to those who are suffering.  Government, social service agencies, and the church are all in Minot being the hands and heart of a compassionate people.  From the church's perspective, we contend that they are the hands and heart of Christ.

Mothers from Minot--a lesson in real life.

Kindness of Diane/Jesus

Her name is Dianne. Tonight she was my server at a little buffet in Wisconsin Dells. Since it was a buffet, her task was to tend to the table, clearing dishes and responding to any needs.

Two tables away there there were two young men furtively sharing a plate of food. Somehow they had finagled two sodas. But it was clear only one of them had paid for the buffet. This detail didn't escape the attention of the staff.

It wasn't Dianne's table, but the male server for the table didn't seem to know what to do about the transgression. He warned the two young men that only one could eat if there was only one meal purchased. I could see that the men agreed.

But only in words. It wasn't long before they were sharing again. This time the manager came to talk to the men. They agreed with the manager, too.

But only in words. When it was detected the second man was still eating, the manager came and asked the second man to leave. At that point Dianne took over. I don't know what shse said in the presence of the manager, but as she was leaving the table, I heard her say, "You go ahead and get a plate. I will pay for you." And she did. The man went to the buffet with no hesitation, and he was still eating when I left the premises.

I don't think Dianne could afford that. She wouldn't be working at a diner if she was wealthy enough to buy dinners for other people. Besides that, these two young men clearly were not bothered by their cheating the restaurant out of a meal! They deserved to be kicked out of the place. Instead, they received grace.

Dianne was kind to me, too, and all others in the restaurant. She was kind. Like Jesus. I took a card out of my wallet and left a note for her and thanking her for her kindness and asking that Jesus might bless her in a thousand ways. I also left a 50% tip. I could afford kindness more than she.

We, too have cheated. Instead of getting kicked out of the place, we have received grace. The grace of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

Thank you, Diane.

A Royal Dinner...Really!

Six of us gathered last night at a Mexican Restaurant across from the Olmsted County jail and the Government Center.  Kathy could see all kinds of activity in the parking area behind the jail--lots of black SUVs and men in dark suits.  Eventually a few SUVs came across the road, and apparently into the restaurant's parking lot.  Very big men in black suits started to come into the restaurant.  A booth of four sat behind me.  A table a six sat opposite and kitty corner from our table.

Our group of six tried to figure out what was going on.  The largest of the men stood at the top of the staircase.  He didn't prevent people from going downstairs where the restrooms are, but he was vigilant.  We carried on with our dinner--great stories and laughter--but our curiosity was not satisfied by the time we prepared to leave.

I told my party that I was going to the bathroom and do reconnaissance.    For some reason, they didn't try to stop me...

As I passed the first step going to basement, the very large man in the black suit spoke into his wrist.  I had no misconception as to what he was doing.  As I turned the corner to go the last half of the staircase, the eyes of another very large man in a black suit observed my descent.  I made the appropriate turn--into the bathroom instead of into the dining area.  Peripherally, I could see a large party at a long table.

On the way out I lingered only slightly for a better view before going upstairs. At a quick glance, I could see that most were Middle Eastern, and there were only a very few woman at the far end of the table.  Security people were keeping close watch.

I reported back to my group, so another decided he had to go to the bathroom.  Same procedure.  But he actually asked the guard at the bottom of the stairs what was going on.  It turns out that the group included the president and vice president of Iraq, along with an entourage--32 people total.

Wow--we had dined with a president and vice president--albeit separated by a one floor and by some very able men.

Last week Christians the world over read a story about Jesus dining with two men in a village called Emmaus.  Though they had visited with him significantly on the road, the two men did not recognize the resurrected Jesus until he broke bread at table with them.

It is often in eating with one another that we come to better know each other and enjoy the gifts that God has given to us.  I pray that you are deliberate in breaking bread with others.  It would help, of course, if you were dining on the same floor and big men were not trying to keep you apart.

You don't have to worry about that in Christ.  He has promised to be with us in the bread and wine.  God's peace and grace to you this day.

Would Good Friday be the End for Carol?

The Day of our Lord's Resurrection is a day without compare in most Christian churches.  We are treated to the eternal truths of a Savior who is victorious over the powers of evil and death.  Our Savior.

That does not mean our lives are without challenges.  At Bethel today we heard the story of a woman named Carol Brott who started have significant health difficulties at the age of twenty, and in her 40's had nearly every heart ailment known to humans.

On Good Friday, April 2, 2010, she said to her husband, John, "I can't do this anymore."  She felt her life ebbing from her.  She had reason for resignation.  Surgeries, heart failures, weakness of body, a six week coma, 123 units of blood, this woman endured more than most bodies are capable of enduring.  While she was on a heart transplant list, things did not appear to be moving in her favor.

Certainly things were not in Jesus' favor, either.  Both political and religious authorities sought to silence him.  They succeeded on Good Friday.  Jesus uttered his forsakenness on the cross.  Jesus said, "It is finished," and breathed his last.

But we know that isn't the end of the story.  The story ends (or just begins?) with a stunning reversal on the first day of the week.  "He is not here, he has been raised, as he said."  And so Christians around the world have celebrated the empty cross and the emtpy tomb with flowers and light.  Bethel's sanctuary this morning was particularly attractive, appointed with Easter colors and flowers.  The chancel was also decorated with the prayers of the children, drawn during Lent and draped over a cross.

Carol Brott came so close to death on a Good Friday, nearly 13 months ago.  She did not die.  Instead, she was at Bethel this morning, testimony to great medical care and even greater faith.  The people of Bethel applauded as she stood.  For it was a year ago, on Easter weekend, that she got the transplant that saved her life.  She received new life--both in body and in spirit.  Good Friday is never the end.  It is only the beginning...

A Barbecue Nest

Jesus replied, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." (Luke 9:58)

Apparently a squirrel had no trouble finding a place.  It built a nest in my gas grill!  I had grilled on Monday, and tonight, Friday, went out to grill again.  I opened the hood of the grill and was startled to see a squirrel jump out, leap off the bench you see at the left of the picture, and hit the frozen turf at full speed.

Of course there was some considerable clean up before grilling was in order.  Kathy was none too thrilled that a rodent had taken up quarters on our cooking surface.  (By the way, the hamburgers were very good.) 

In our part of the country, cold as it is much of the winter, animals need to find secure homes.  Some fly away for the winter and come back in the spring.  Some hibernate.  But all need some shelter. 

We don't know much about Jesus' living conditions prior to his baptism by John, nor is much said about his lodging the three years of his ministry travels.  It is of little matter.  Jesus knew where home was.  Jesus promised "home" for those who know him as the way, the truth, and the life.

A nest in a grill?  A beautiful four bedroom home?  What about a dwelling place prepared by no less than the Son of Man?  No need to worry about gas flames...

Sometimes Grace Costs...

Ten minutes before a three hour visioning meeting, a man rushes into the meeting room at the church and asks if there is a pastor here.  Of course, I say, "I am one of the pastors at Bethel."

He goes on to explain that he rushed out of the house earlier in the day and that his wife had just given birth to twin girls at the hospital.  He was in need of gas.  Could I help?

We have a system for that at Bethel.  I didn't follow the system.  I needed to get into the meeting, so I tried to be as quick as possible.  I asked him to write down his contact information, and he gave me a name and phone number.  I asked the names of the twin girls, and he gave me two names with birth weights.

Twice he told me he wasn't looking for a handout, but that he would be back with the money as soon as he got home--about 25 miles from Rochester--and could get back to town that evening.  Maybe an hour and a half.  That was Thursday.

I asked him for his driver's license--a requirement at Bethel for receiving a gas voucher.  He had rushed out of the house.  He didn't have it.  I cannot give aid at Bethel without the license.  But he looked so sincere, and I was pleased for the birth of his twins.  I couldn't give him any Bethel help, but I could give him my own money.  I explained that Bethel could not do what he asked, but I would trust him.  He told me he would be back on Thursday.

It is Saturday.

Will he ever come back?  Did I waste twenty dollars?  Did I spend it?  Did I invest it in the kingdom?  I suppose I will never know.  Quite a few people over my 32 years of being a pastor have said they would come back with the money.  Only two have. 

It is a risk.  Of grace.  Maybe I got taken by a good story.  Maybe a father with new twins has just forgotten a promise.  Maybe someone is thinking, "At least the church was willing to help."  Sometimes grace does have a cost...

THREE YEAR OLDS IN CHURCH? ARE YOU CRAZY?

Those who know me well know that the sun rises and sets in my two grandsons, especially Jarek with whom I have been a big buddy for almost three years (he turns three on April 2).  I spend a lot of time with him, but, since I am a pastor, rarely do I get to be with him during worship.

This past Wednesday I had no leadership role in our mid-week Lenten service, so Jarek’s family, my wife, and I were all together in the pew. 

It was a delight.

Bethel is exploring the senses that God has given us during our mid-week services this year—how do they sharpen our journey to the cross?

This past Wednesday the sense was “touch.”  This little-boy-just-short-of-three picked up on the theme immediately without being told.  When a pastor would say “touch”, he would repeat it out loud—the pastors even heard it by the altar.  He might have been coloring, he might have been paying close attention—it did not matter.  He was listening, and he knew that “touch” was an important gift of God that night.  I was so delighted to hold him, to help him sing the songs, to explain the bidding prayers we were using, to worship God with him.

I am told once in a while that parents will not come to church because their small children get nothing out of it.  There are too many times that I have been told of some astute observation or question by a child for me to believe children aren't paying attention.  Children belong in worship.  They probably don’t understand everything (surprise—pastors don’t understand everything either), but they are learning about God’s great love for them through the gathered body of Christ.

Please.  Please.  Bring your children/grandchildren/nieces/nephews/small neighbors to worship with you.  You could be making an eternal difference.

Oh, Jarek wasn’t perfect.  At one point, ironically enough on a night in which touch was the focus, he complained about his eight-month old brother, “Joren’s touching me!”  Oh, well.  His parents and grandparents aren’t perfect either.

May God touch all young ones (and middle-aged and old ones) in worship.