Christ said ‘follow me,’ not study me.

I have to tell you that I am an Episcopalian, grew up and Episcopalian, tried the Southern Baptist Church for a while, and came back to the richness and beauty of the Anglican liturgical style of worship. I have visited other denominations, particularly for weddings and funerals. When I was a kid, I went to all the different VBS offerings. Growing up in Oklahoma, I experienced the Indian Church and the Quakers. Being a thinker, I examined each experience, taking away a new bit of knowledge from each. Maybe that is why I have stuck with the ‘via media’ and the denomination that through its liturgy, Bible base, tradition, and reason has remained as close as possible in a contemporary sense to the 1^st century Church.

We have a new opportunity. We have built a home in Tennessee that we plan to retire to. It is just a few miles from an Amish settlement. When we go up there to prepare for the future we get most of our fresh vegetables from the Amish store.  We frequently see their carriages on the roadways.  We are witness to their countenance and willingness to help others. We were in a store when the man of a family came back into the store with his sales receipt to verify that they had not been under-charged for an item. It is hard to remember another time that I have seen that level of honesty.

I don’t intend to covert, but I do see many aspects to their way of life that are admirable. They certainly live out their faith. In the article that you will find if you follow the link below, you will find a statement attributed to an Amish man that says: Christ said ‘follow me,’ not study me.

Now I reason that in order to know Christ I do need to study about Him. But there is a very practical application of once I know Him enough to make a stab at it, that I should really try to follow Him rather than just thinking about Him or studying about Him.

Hmmmmmm…

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/02/28/the-amish-american-experience-pbs-premier_n_1306585.html?ref=religion

It sounds so simple

“I am thankful for knowing that Jesus seeks real people as followers – not the perfect and beautiful, but real, tender, passionate goof-balls – who carry the love of God.” ~Bishop Carol Gallagher

“You humans have lost your connection to the All.

The Oneness of Life on this planet, indeed in the

whole galaxy. You have separated yourself from

the rest of life and become lost in greed and

possessiveness. When you are in tune with nature

and in flow with the balance of life, greed and

possessiveness do not occur. You have what is

necessary for your survival.  That is how we live.

We take only what is necessary, and as a result,

all energies work together in harmony.”

www.WhaleCommunicators.com

36 "Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?" 37 He said to him," "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.' 38 This is the greatest and first commandment. 39 And a second is like it: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' 40 On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets."  Matthew 22:36-40 (NRSA)

• Be thankful that you are accepted for who you are a creature of God.
• If you are in tune with nature, your life will flow harmoniously.
• Love God with all that you are.
• Love your neighbor as yourself

It sounds so simple. Why don’t we get it?

Faith

Reason is an action of the mind; knowledge is a possession of the mind; but faith is an attitude of the person. It means you are prepared to stake yourself on something being so.  ~Michael Ramsey

THE WRONG FUNERAL

Consumed by my loss, I didn't notice the hardness of the pew where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend -- my mother. She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense; I found it hard to breathe at times. Always supportive, Mother clapped loudest at my school plays, held a box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak, comforted me at my father's death, encouraged me in college, and prayed for me my entire life. When mother's illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart, so it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle child without entanglements, to take care of her. 

I counted it an honor. "What now, Lord?" I asked sitting in church. My life stretched out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with his face toward the cross while clutching his wife's hand. My sister sat slumped against her husband's shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child. All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone. My place had been with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together. 

Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished, and I was alone. I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor. An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. His eyes were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle. "I'm late," he explained, though no explanation was necessary. 

After several eulogies, he leaned over and commented, "Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of 'Margaret?'" "Because that was her name, Margaret, never Mary. No one called her 'Mary,'" I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn't have sat on the other side of the church. 

He interrupted my grieving with his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway? "No, that isn't correct," he insisted, as several people glanced over at us whispering, "Her name is Mary, Mary Peters." "That isn't who this is." "Isn't this the Lutheran church?" "No, the Lutheran church is across the street." "Oh." "I believe you're at the wrong funeral, Sir." 

The solemnness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the man's mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter. I cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted as sobs. The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious. I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside me. 

He was laughing too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing. At the final "Amen," we darted out a door and into the parking lot. "I do believe we'll be the talk of the town," he smiled. He said his name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt's funeral, asked me out for a cup of coffee. That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place. 

A year after our meeting, we were married at a country church where he was the assistant pastor. This time we both arrived at the same church, right on time. In my time of sorrow, God gave me laughter. In place of loneliness, God gave me love. This past June we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary. Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick tells them, "Her mother and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it's truly a match made in heaven." 

"The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come."    ~Mark 4:26-29 (NSRV)

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” ~Hebrews 11.1 (NSRV)

... and to dust you will return

If you are curious about the history and meaning of Mardis Gras, Shrove Tuesday, Carnival, and Ash Wednesday here is a short video that will help explain those days.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vEmQrwM4QD0

“Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing. Use the pain as fuel, as a reminder of your strength.”  ~August Wilson, playwright

Out of the Ashes--- by David Pascoe

It was Ash Wednesday, the day after Mardi Gras and the beginning of Lent. I was late leaving the office that morning as I set out on my visits for the day, so it was close to noon when I arrived at the small nursing home that Darlene, one of our hospice patients, called home, tucked away in a residential neighborhood off a busy street. All six residents were at the dining room table finishing a lunch of chicken salad as I breezed in. A couple of heads turned my way in curiosity, but no one, not even Darlene, spoke. “Sorry to catch you at lunch time,” I apologized to Heather, the dark haired young caregiver sitting at the table with the elderly residents. “I’m Darlene’s hospice chaplain. I can wait until everyone’s done eating.” She smiled and nodded as I excused myself to use the restroom.

Even though I took my time, when I walked back into the dining area, everybody was still stoically chewing way at the chicken salad or chasing a piece of chopped celery around the plate with a fork. “Why don’t you sit and join us?” Heather invited with a smile. “I’d love to,” I answered. I took a seat across from Darlene between the only other man in the place on my right and a tiny, white haired woman on my left. I leaned across the table: “Hello Darlene. Do you remember me? I’m David, your chaplain.” Darlene had dementia and a recent diagnosis of incurable cancer. She was aware of her growing memory loss, but her son had chosen not to tell her about the tumor silently growing in her abdomen. She smiled brightly at me and replied in a surprisingly hearty voice: “No, I don’t remember meeting you. But it sure is nice to see you!” Then she turned her attention back to the chicken salad.

n the silence that followed, I looked around the table at her companions, wordlessly intent on their food. I racked my brain from an opening gambit. “Well, today’s Ash Wednesday, and it’s like spring out there this morning. You have a few daffodils pushing through by the front door. Has anyone been outside yet today?” The question floated in the air like a lifeline waiting for someone to grab hold and tug. I held my breath.

“Well, I don’t get out much any more,” said a slow and measured voice. I turned to look as the tall, spare man sitting next to me. I noticed his thinning hair, the huge lenses in his glasses, his belt cinched tight and high around his pants, a few stray crumbs on the front of his shirt. He smiled. “Not since I gave up my car.”

Across the table from him, a woman in a wheelchair piped up in a dry, matter-of-fact voice. “I drove until was 93. Then on my 93rd birthday, I hung up my keys in the cupboard, and I haven’t driven since.”

“Estelle is 96 now, aren’t you Estelle?” Heather added for my information, looking affectionately in her direction.

“How old were you when you started driving? I asked. “Twelve,” Estelle replied as she forked another bite of chicken salad into her mouth.

“Twelve!” I said incredulously. “What did you drive? A tractor?”

She chuckled at me as she answered: “No. I drove my daddy’s Model T Ford up and down those country lanes. That was some car, I can tell you.”

“How about you, Warren? What did you drive?” Heather asked, seizing the chance to help the lunchtime conversation along. “I drove a Model T too,” Warren replied. “But my favorite car was the roadster. Boy, those cars could sure kick if you didn’t crank ’em just right. I had a brother who got his arm busted by one of those things when it kicked back on him.”

I noticed the puzzled look on Heather the caregiver’s face. I guessed her to be less than half my age. “You had to crank a handle in the front to start the engine in those days,” I explained. And if you weren’t careful, you could get hurt.”

“Yes, sir. Gas was 12 cents a gallon back then; 25 cents for the good stuff,” Warren reminisced. “Say, Estelle, what year were you born?” From across the table, Estelle replied “Nineteen and twelve.” “Me too!” said Warren. Then from my left came a sharp little voice: “That’s the year I was born too. And we had a Model T. My dad was a Lutheran minister, you know. He always had a good sermon for Ash Wednesday. I’ve been Lutheran all my life.” I turned to look at the diminutive, white haired woman by my side who had not spoken until now. “Did those strict old Lutherans let you drive back then?” I asked playfully. “Oh, you’d be surprised what we got up to,” she replied and the whole table laughed.

For the next half hour or so, the conversation flowed. I heard about life during the Great Depression and the Second World War. I heard about making do in hard times. What it was like for Warren to play saxophone in a band for $10 a night. How Estelle would shut the curtains on the Model T when she was dating. How in the 50’s Darlene loved to drive those big old cars with the fins. How everybody knew their neighbors in those days, and even though times were tough, how everyone pulled together to get through.

“What year were you born?” someone asked me in a lull in the conversation. “Nineteen fifty-one,” I replied reluctantly, guessing at what would come next. “Why, you’re just a young ’un,” they laughed. “Why don’t you tell us some of your stories?”

And so, the best I could, I tried to paint a picture of my life, growing up just after the end of World War II in a little coal-mining town on the edge of the sea in the North of England. “My dad, both my grandfathers, and most of my uncles were miners,” I told them. “It was a hard life.” They nodded in silent agreement, knowing just how hard life can be, listening carefully to every word I spoke. “The mine where my dad worked went straight down 2,000 feet then out a couple of miles under the sea. He would come home with salt stalactites that would form on the ceiling of the workings, stained brown, yellow, and green from the minerals in the rock.” Suitable gasps and “My, mys” rippled around the table.

“My mom lived in that town all her life until she died of a stroke,” I continued. “It was just two years ago, actually.” “How old was she?” one of the 96 year olds asked. “Just 78,” I answered.

A soft silence hung over the table, old and not-so-young, united by the sweetness of memories and a common sense of loss.

I looked at the clock on the wall and saw I must be going. “Thank you so much for letting me spend time with you today,” I said. “Come back again,” said Warren. “This is the best entertainment we’ve had in a long time.” “Oh, I will,” I promised, “as long as that’s OK with Darlene.” She smiled and said, “You bet,” with enthusiasm.

As I made ready to leave, a thought struck me. “You know, as a chaplain, I offer to pray with the people I meet. May I pray for all of you today before I go?” Nods of approval greeted my request. Eyes closed, hands folded, heads bowed. And I prayed.

I drove away to my next appointment, reluctant to leave that table fellowship, that holy ground, that sacramental place where, for a moment individual lives connected, joys were shared, wounds were exposed, healing was offered. Out of the ashes of their lives, these wise and witty elders created a space for me on Ash Wednesday to hold and share the losses of the past and the intimacy of the present moment.

From the Pastoral Report The Newsletter of CPSP:  http://www.pastoralreport.com/the_archives/2012/02/out_of_the_ashe.html

“Create in me a clean heart, O God. Renew a loyal spirit within me.” Psalm 51:10 (NLT)

Ash Wednesday

Today is actually Mardis Gras, Shrove Tuesday, and Carnival; all names for the day that Christians and others world wide eat and drink to excess in celebration of and anticipation for the season of Lent.  It is the last day before the traditional forty day fast of Lent.  Lent is a time for self reflection, penitence, and preparation.

Below is a sermon that I preached on Ash Wednesday 2006. I pray that it will help you understand the Ash Wednesday observance and take you with a greater understanding into the next forty days.

 Ash Wednesday a sermon

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen

Today is Ash Wednesday.  Ash Wednesday is the first day of the church season we call Lent.

 

I would like to take just a few minutes to talk about Ash Wednesday and Lent.

What is the purpose of Lent? Lent is reflecting on being born again, about following the path of death and resurrection, about participating in Jesus’ final journey. Lent is a time that we are reminded of our own mortality, look deeper into our lives, and die to our sins. Lent is a time that we decide what in our life is keeping us from a closer relationship to God.  Lent is when we identify what ever that is, confess it to ourselves and to God, repent of that sin, and prepare ourselves for the transformation, that rebirth that God, made possible by the sacrifice of his Son to mortal death.

Why is Lent forty days?  The Bible tells us, Jesus retreated into the wilderness and fasted for forty days after His baptism to prepare for his ministry. It was for Him a time of contemplation, reflection, and preparation.  By observing a forty day season of Lent we can join Jesus on His retreat.

Do we get to cheat on Sundays? My personal opinion is that this is a bit of a misconception. Sunday is a joyful celebration of the Resurrection of Christ. For this celebration during Lent we replace the sadness and mourning of the season with a thankful knowledge of Jesus resurrection. But, if you notice we do not worship with alleluias and bright colors and decorations. We worship in seriousness with reflection and contemplation.  We should come to God with a penitent heart. Is it OK to eat the ice cream you gave up for Lent on Sunday. That’s up to you. Why did you give up the ice cream? If you gave it up because you had to give up something you like for Lent, then I guess it really doesn’t matter. If you gave it up because it was a stumbling block in your life, a habitual problem, a cause of health issues, does it symbolized a deep personal need, or represent a sin of self-control? If it does you should worship with joy in your heart that with Gods help you will overcome that problem.

Why ashes? We human beings have a tendency to overlook many of the small and menial tasks around the house when there is a death in the family. We are preoccupied with the sadness, mourning, and activities surrounding the occasion. Looking back in history, all homes were at one time heated by wood or coal burning stoves and all cooking was done with that same fire. These constantly burning fires created lots of suet and ash.  If not cleared out of the stove regularly, the ash spread over everything in the house. It became common that when people went to visit the family in mourning, they were greeted by people who had ashes on there foreheads and face. This was from touching ash covered surfaces then wiping their tears with an ash covered hand.  Thus ashes on the forehead became associated with death and mourning. The Church has adopted that symbol as an outward and visible sign on the first day of Lent. On Ash Wednesday we come to church to kneel, to pray, and to ask God’s forgiveness.  Our Church tradition has set aside this day as Ash Wednesday to address sin and death and to apply the ashes as a symbol of our mourning for those sins and our spiritual death.

Today’s Gospel reading begins “Jesus said.” This indicates to me that this is the will of God. Let’s go through these verses and try to gain a better understanding of what is being said.

“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven,”

I come into the church and kneel and pray, I go to bedsides to pray, I pray before meals (even in restaurants), I have stopped at crash sites and bowed my head in prayer.  On all these occasions, I was in a place that I could be seen. This is not what Jesus in talking about.  The Greek word used that has been translated as “to be seen” is a word that in our vernacular is the root for the word theatrical. What Jesus is talking about is that I am not to make my prayer a spectacular performance that is intended to drawn the attention of others in order to make them think that I am pious.

“So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they make be praised by others.  Truly I tell you, they have received their reward.  But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”

The Greek word for hypocrite can be interpreted in the modern English language to be referring to an actor, an impersonator, or as a person trying to be someone they are not. In Jesus time to identify one as a hypocrite was extremely harsh.

“And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at street corners, so that they may be seen by others.  Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go in your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your father who sees in secret will reward you.”

Some translations of the Bible say for us to go into our closet to pray. The combination of words used here have the implied intent that the purpose for going into a place that has a roof and walls is to block out the distractions of the world and to be able to commune with God.

“And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting.  Truly I tell you, they have received their reward.  But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”

Again the language in these verses tells me that being theatrical and putting on a false or exaggerated face holds no benefit with God.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasure on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves so not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will also be.

Is it more important to me what people think about me than what concerns God about me? Where my treasure is, there my heart will be.  If I am spending all this energy putting on a show so that you will think I am a great a pious person, then I am counting on you to reward me. That makes it all about me and how I am viewed by you.  Where in God is all this? God is always there.  He allows me to make a choice as to where my heart is. 

What a fool I am if I give up the greater reward because I think that I have to wait for God’s reward.

Let me tell you some personal information about me. Prior to 1995 I was a smoker.  I had tried to quit the habit at least 100 times. My wife hated it, my coworkers hated, and my kids wondered why they couldn’t smoke but I could. I was trying to quit for them.

 I loved the taste of a cold beer.  But, I would always get up and leave the room when the “are you an alcoholic” quiz came on TV. It wasn’t the question of whether or not I had to drink every day that scared me. I could give it up for long periods of time without ill effects.  I didn’t want to face the questions as to whether or not drinking had caused a problem in a relationship or if I made plans around an opportunity to drink. I really didn’t try hard to quit. But, for my wife and kids I took into the closet… like they didn’t know. I was an Episcopalian you know and then an Episcabaptist. These habits were for the most part either accepted or overlooked as being sinful.

In 1995, as I prepared to enter seminary, I came to the realization that I had been a very good religious person, I did lots of good deeds, and I was a churchman’s churchman but much of what I was doing was for me.  I liked being looked upon as a leader in the church. I would bask in that light.  I liked the attention. I prayed for guidance. It was then that I was convicted of my Fred-centeredness. I felt, therefore, I must follow the lead of Jesus. I was led to do a forty day fast as He had done prior to beginning His ministry. I needed to get my priorities in the proper perspective.

Brothers and sisters I worked 50 hours a week to feed my family.  I couldn’t go off into the wilderness for forty days. I was in my forties and had spent the majority of my life abusing my body in one way or another. I was not healthy enough to give up eating for forty days. What was I to do?

What I could do was say to God: “Without you Lord I can do nothing. I have made myself out to be such a great Christian. But, Lord I still have a whole bunch of things between you and I that I have not resolved.  Lord as I begin this time of study in seminary help me tear down some of those things and establish a better relationship with You. Let me start with forty days of greater contemplation and evaluation of who I really am and how I am really supposed to respond to your call. In my own power I have tried 100s of times to quit smoking.  Only you can take this habit from me, I can not do it on my own.  While I was at it, I ask for His help with my taste for beer. I seriously wanted to remove all the stumbling blocks between me and my family and me and God.

I like to eat.  I’m from Oklahoma so I was raised on beef, potatoes, and homemade desserts. Therefore a reasonable fast for me was to adhere to a vegetarian diet for the forty days. The hardest part was going to Denny’s after a racquetball game and ordering the veggie plate or a veggie burger while everyone else had greasy hamburgers and other delicious smelling treats. I didn’t cheat on Sundays, instead I enjoyed an even more meaningful day of worship.

I haven’t smoked a cigarette since that day, or even wanted one.  I don’t drink beer anymore.  As a matter of fact, I don’t drink any alcoholic beverages.  I don’t miss them. I lived through forty days of a vegetarian diet.  After about a week, I didn’t feel the need to explain why I was doing it. For those forty days I made sure that God was walking through it shoulder to shoulder with me.

My relationship with God improved greatly. I began to understand that there was a direct correlation between my relationship with God and how everything else in my life went. Within only a few weeks, my relationship with my family started to improve. I began to get more and more ministry opportunities, most of which were not the up front of the congregation type.

I discovered that the cigarettes and the beer were not the whole problem, but rather symptoms of a deeper problem.  I had to cast off sins of self-interest, self-gratification.  I had to identify the problems, face them, confess them, repent, and receive God’s forgiveness to become a new person.

I can stand before you today and testify that God loves you.  And if there is anything that stands between you and God that keeps His light from shining through or keeps His love from touching you, Ash Wednesday is your wake up call.

Jesus is asking you not to do anything for Lent that will make you greater in the eyes of other people.  Jesus is asking you not to do anything for Lent that satisfies a worldly need.  Jesus wants all of us to take advantage of this season to lay up treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. Jesus wants you to tear down the walls between you and the Lord. You will not have to wait for the rewards… they will be here now and forever.   Amen

fearfully and wonderfully made

“Each of us is put here in this time and this place
to personally decide the future of humankind.
Did you think the Creator would create unnecessary
people in a time of such terrible danger?
Know that you yourself are
essential to this World.”

— Chief Arvol Looking Horse of the
Lakota, Dakota and Nakota Nation, 
19th Generation Keeper of the
Sacred White Buffalo Calf Pipe

Video: http://www.personalgrowthcourses.net/video/best_dad

Let us never forget that our Creator doesn’t create unnecessary people. We all can be reminded with this story that we should never take anyone, anywhere, anytime for granted.

I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots. ~ Rick Reilly, Sports Illustrated

But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck.

Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars – all in the same day.

Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much – except save his life.

This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.

"He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life," Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. "Put him in an institution."

But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. "No way," Dick says he was told. "There's nothing going on in his brain."

"Tell him a joke," Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain.

Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? "Go Bruins!" And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, "Dad, I want to do that."

Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described "porker" who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried. "Then it was me who was handicapped," Dick says. "I was sore for two weeks."

That day changed Rick's life. "Dad," he typed, "when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!"

And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.

"No way," Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway. Then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year.

Then somebody said, "Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?"

How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried.

Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzz kill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you think?

Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? "No way," he says. Dick does it purely for "the awesome feeling" he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.

This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time  Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992 – only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.

"No question about it," Rick types. "My dad is the Father of the Century."

And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries was 95% clogged. "If you hadn't been in such great shape," one doctor told him, "you probably would've died 15 years ago."

So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life.

Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father's Day.

That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy. "The thing I'd most like," Rick types, "is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once."

Sports Illustrated Issue date: June 20, 2005, p. 88 by Rick Reilly

“I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well.” Psalm 139:14 NRSA

Happy Valentine's Life

The greatest healing therapy is friendship and love.

Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction.

Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence.

Words That Feed Us

“When we talk to one another, we often talk about what happened, what we are doing, or what we plan to do. Often we say, "What's up?" and we encourage one another to share the details of our daily lives. But often we want to hear something else. We want to hear, "I've been thinking of you today," or "I missed you," or "I wish you were here," or "I really love you." It is not always easy to say these words, but such words can deepen our bonds with one another.

Telling someone "I love you" in whatever way is always delivering good news. Nobody will respond by saying, "Well, I knew that already, you don't have to say it again"! Words of love and affirmation are like bread. We need them each day, over and over. They keep us alive inside.” ~Henry J. M. Nouwen

Valentine’s Day is not a religious holiday. For the religious, everyday is Valentine’s Day! ~Fred Wilcoxson

Not a One!
by: Dale Galloway, Source Unknown

Little Chad was a shy, quiet young man. One day he came home and told his mother that he'd like to make a valentine for everyone in his class. Her heart sank. She thought, "I wish he wouldn't do that!" because she had watched the children when they walked home from school. Her Chad was always behind them. They laughed and hung on to each other and talked to each other. But Chad was never included. Nevertheless, she decided she would go along with her son. So she purchased the paper and glue and crayons. For three weeks, night after night, Chad painstakingly made 35 valentines.

Valentine's Day dawned, and Chad was beside himself with excitement. He carefully stacked them up, put them in a bag, and bolted out the door. His mother decided to bake him his favorite cookies and serve them nice and warm with a cool glass of milk when he came home from school. She just knew he would be disappointed and maybe that would ease the pain a little. It hurt her to think that he wouldn't get many valentines - maybe none at all.

That afternoon she had the cookies and milk on the table. When she heard the children outside, she looked out the window. Sure enough, there they came, laughing and having the best time. And, as always, there was Chad in the rear. He walked a little faster than usual. She fully expected him to burst into tears as soon as he got inside. His arms were empty, she noticed, and when the door opened she choked back the tears.

"Mommy has some cookies and milk for you," she said.

But he hardly heard her words. He just marched right on by, his face aglow, and all he could say was: "Not a one. Not a one."

Her heart sank.

And then he added, "I didn't forget a one, not a single one!"

1 John 3:18 Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8 Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.  Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. Love never ends.

You are Never Alone

Second Sunday in Epiphany

January 15, 2012

Lectionary B

Fred D. Wilcoxson

The driveway leading to our Tennessee home is about 600 feet long. As you turn off the hard road onto the gravel road that leads to our driveway, you journey into another world. The bunnies run across your path and the butterflies flit all around.  Through the trees on the right you can see the cows lazing along a trickling creek bed. On the left you can sense the height of the rocky ridge. The farther you go down the road the more the forest on both sides begins to close in on you. The last driveway is ours; it is marked by huge boulders on either side. When you turn up the drive and up the incline the trees actually form a tunnel like effect, mostly shaded, but with rays of sunshine piercing randomly through. When you top the ridge you break out into a beautiful vista of color. The sky forms a blue canopy over a wide valley between you and the Cherokee National Forest. The lower ridges and rolling hills in the valley are painted in shades of green. You can stand there in the shade of a tree and feel completely alone. You can enjoy the solitude watching the birds flitting about, hear a dog bark or a cow mooing somewhere in the distance. One could just stay there in the aloneness and day dream. Even in the winter time the trees provide cover from the cold wind. Even in the winter there is a feeling of peace in this place, where you can be quiet and reflective.

I wonder if this was what Nathaniel was doing as he stood under the fig trees alone in his thoughts. He could have been enjoying the limited amount of shade provided by the fig tree and the cool breezes that might have been coming his way. Was he enjoying a moment of private revelry with his imaginings and fantasies? His friend Phillip roused him from his quiet reflective musings. He thought himself alone, but God had found him even in this private place and moment. He was likely just like we are when we are in the same situation, when we think that we are all alone only to find that God is right there with us.

John says that Phillip said to Nathaniel “follow me.” Nathaniel was jarred back into the real world. He likely said or felt that he had been pulled from a peaceful and comfortable place. Phillip went on to say: “We have found him of whom Moses in the Law and the prophets wrote, Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of Joseph.” Obviously the offer didn’t thrill Nathaniel. He actually sounded a little put off when he replied: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth.” But his trust in his friends and Phillips call: “Come and see” was enough for him. He joined them in their trek to see this Jesus of Nazareth.

When Jesus talked to him, Nathaniel was amazed that Jesus had seen him under the tree, and was probably a little frightened that even though he thought he was alone, he had been seen. This event, Jesus telling him of seeing him under the tree, made him a believer.  Jesus responded to Nathaniel with a new life and new calling. Jesus said “Because I said to you, ‘I saw you under the fig tree,’ do you believe? You will see greater things than these.” He went on to say: “Truly, truly, I say to you, you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.”

What just happen here? Think about how Nathaniel’s life just changed. That is obvious. What is the deeper reality of the way that God works in the lives of his people? When Nathaniel said: ‘Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!’ Nathaniel knew that from that moment forward that his old way of living day to day was over with. The life that he had known had ended.

But, wonder of wonders what has Jesus also done. Before the door was closed on that old way of life a new door was opened a new way of life was waiting for him. Jesus greeted Nathaniel with the promise that he would see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man. There was no question of ‘what am I going to do now.’ 

Nathaniel was a grown man and had heard the prophecies of Moses and prophets. He had been prepared to the extent necessary for this revelation. This was not true of Samuel the young boy in the Old Testament reading. When Nathaniel heard God’s call he responded in just one calling. Samuel on the other hand mistook God’s call for him as being the call of his earthy, human, master. And like a good young servant he jumped from his bed and ran to his masters side not just once, not just twice, not even in three in three calls did he realize whom was actually calling him. It was only when he was visited in a dream that he was able to receive instructions from God on what he was to do. He then had to sleep on it; or at least he had lay in bed the rest of the night to think about what the messenger of God had asked of him. It was only after doing his morning chores that he went to Eli and delivered God’s message.

 It was only after he had done as God had asked that his life was changed. He was no longer a servant in training. He himself had become a prophet. He would never be the same again. The door to his old life was shut.  But, before it was shut God had prepared for him a new life. Because Samuel was just a child he didn’t recognize that it was God calling and he was full of reluctance and trepidation.

All of that time Samuel had spent in the Temple, in his sleeping closet, and about his servants duties he thought that he was alone.

Do we think that we are alone when no one else is around? Psalm 139 lays down for us a great doctrine. That is that our God, the one and only God, has a perfect knowledge of all the motions and actions of our life, both our inward and outward being are bared and open to his eyes.

Lord, you have searched me out and know me: *you know my sitting down and rising up; you discern my thoughts from afar.

You trace my journeys and my resting places *and are acquainted with all my ways.

You see, he is with me when I walk up my driveway, when I sit in solitude on my porch looking out over the valley, or when I stand under the protection of the forest. Even though I don’t know He is there and when I don’t experience phenomenal events, I am being blessed. You too are constantly in the presence of and under the watchful eye of a loving, caring, providing God and you are blessed.  This is so even in the midst of our struggles and trials; God is with us, despite it all.

How will you hear Gods call, that sometimes still, small voice? How will you recognize that God is preparing to close one door and open another for you?

Let me help you find the answers to those questions by closing with a meditation from Henri Nouwen called The Still, Small Voice of Love:

Many voices ask for our attention. There is a voice that says, "Prove that you are a good person." Another voice says, "You'd better be ashamed of yourself." There also is a voice that says, "Nobody really cares about you," and one that says, "Be sure to become successful, popular, and powerful." But underneath all these often very noisy voices is a still, small voice that says, "You are my Beloved, my favor rests on you." That's the voice we need most of all to hear. To hear that voice, however, requires special effort; it requires solitude, silence, and a strong determination to listen.

That's what prayer is. It is listening to the voice that calls us "my Beloved."

Let us pray,  Lord, we ask you by your Holy Spirit to help us trust that we are never alone, despite challenges too numerous to mention, sighs too deep for words, and all the other hurdles we face. May we all rejoice in being known and being seen, and being loved in every moment. May our inward and outward thoughts be love this day, knowing that You abide with us in everything we do and say.  Amen

'sweetness to the soul and health to the body'

I am amazed at the power of the kind word, the pinpoint of grace. Like many seekers I have waded through volumes of wise words, streaming out from spiritual sources I imagine must be deep wells of knowledge. But have they shaped me more than the single word of love, of recognition, of comfort, spoken just when I needed it most? We all are sages of the kind word, the holy word of simple love and caring. No great torrent of great thoughts, but just a cup of water. When we speak what we can, as humble as it may be, we lift a soul to find its light, and set it flying free. ~Steven Charleston, Episcopal Bishop, Choctaw

 old farmer’s advise www.inspire21.com

• Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong.

• Keep skunks and bankers and lawyers at a distance.

• Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.

• A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.

• Words that soak into your ears are whispered...not yelled.

• Meanness don't jes' happen overnight.

• Forgive your enemies. It messes up their heads.

• Do not corner something that would normally run from you.

• It don't take a very big person to carry a grudge.

• You cannot unsay a cruel word.

• Every path has a few puddles.

• When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.

• The best sermons are lived, not preached.

• Most of the stuff people worry about ain't never gonna happen anyway.

• Don't judge folks by their relatives.

• Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

• Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll enjoy it a second time.

• Don't interfere with somethin' that ain't botherin' you none.

• Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.

• If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin'.

• Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.

• The biggest troublemaker you'll probably ever have to deal with, watches you from the mirror every mornin'.

• Don't fix it if it ain't broke.

• Always drink upstream from the herd.

• Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.

• Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin' it back in.

• If you get to thinkin' you're a person of some influence, try orderin' somebody else's dog around.

• Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly... and leave the rest to God.

Pleasant words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body.

~Proverbs 16:23