Isaiah 41:10 - "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my right hand."

Friday, February 19, 2021

First Saturday of Lent by Linda Mabe 2/20/21

 



Scripture Reading: Titus 3:1-15


“But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy.” -Titus 3:4-5a NIV


The third chapter of Titus spoke to me in several ways. The verses remind me to be careful to be a good citizen by obeying the law, to avoid quarreling, and to be considerate and gentle. I do those things...most of the time. So, I do have room for work in these areas.

More importantly to me, however, this passage of scripture explains clearly that, as Christians, when we devote ourselves to doing what is good, it is not because we are better than others, but because of what God has done for us. Thus, appreciation to God for his mercy is our motivation.

This idea of why we do good works reminds me of something my dad, who served as the pastor of a small rural church, used to say. When a member of the congregation seemed to be thinking that doing good was the price owed for God’s love, my dad would lead them away from that way of thinking by saying, “We can’t ever ‘out-give’ God.” Then, he would explain the futility of even trying to “earn” the gifts we receive from God.

Thinking about the third chapter of Titus has led me to a thought and a question.

The thought: I am so thankful that God loves me with no strings attached.

The question: What can I do for others in appreciation of that love?

 

Dear God,

Lead me to serve you in response to the grace and mercy you have shown to me. Amen.


--Linda Mabe

Thursday, February 18, 2021

First Friday of Lent by Martha Butler 2/19/20


Scripture Reading: Psalm 31

Turn your ear to me; come quickly to my rescue; be my rock of refuge, a strong fortress to save me.” -Psalm 31:2 NIV
 
Psalm 31 is generally accepted as having been written by David, when he was hiding in caves in the wilderness with his band of supporters, pursued by the army of King Saul. Reading this psalm makes me think of a bird sheltering in a crevice of rock, keeping safe from storms and predators. Just so, we can trust God to shelter and protect us when we face overwhelming circumstances. Though confined for a time, we can rest in the hope that God will deliver us from all evil and guide us to “a spacious place”, an aerie from which we can soar in freedom and confidence.

Our steadfast God is always available to us as our rock of refuge. In times of danger, our Savior’s mighty hand protects us and keeps us safe. When we are in distress, the Lord stills the storms of life and gives us a peace beyond understanding. When we are ill, the Great Physician strengthens and heals us. Whenever we feel isolated and empty, the Holy Spirit grants us assurances of God’s presence, filling and warming our souls. As we grieve the loss of loved ones, the Holy Comforter sustains us with precious memories and the hope of eternal life. When we stumble and sin, we can turn and find our Father’s merciful forgiveness and loving grace.
 
“So be strong and courageous, all you who put your hope in the Lord!”
-Psalm 31:24 NLT
 
Loving God, you have promised to gather us under your wings like a mother hen does her chicks. Help us to rely on you. Keep us close in prayer and increase our trust in you. Surround us, sustain us, soothe us, strengthen and heal us, forgive us when we wander away from you. Instill in us a spirit of praise and thanksgiving for all your many blessings. In the name of Jesus our Savior, Amen.

--Martha Butler

First Thursday of Lent by Pam Day 2/18/21

 Scripture Reading: Psalm 37:1-18


“Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” 
-Psalm 37:4 NIV


I was always taught that during Lent I needed to give up something. Forty days without something that I liked or loved. I remember giving up things like chocolate, sweet tea, fast food—the list goes on. Then one year, the pastor said to me, “you don’t always have to give up something, you can always add something to your life.” What could I add? I decided to add an early morning meditation. Now those who know me know that I am NOT a morning person. So, getting up 30 minutes earlier than I really wanted to was a challenge for me.

But isn’t that what it is all about? The challenge? It’s a journey of sacrifice. We walk with Jesus throughout Lent as he makes the solemn and inevitable journey to his crucifixion. But that is not the end. In the end there is resurrection. In the end, there is JOY. So, I challenged myself to make the time to delight in the Lord. Time to be “all in” with the Lord and all that he is. Even through Lent, surely there is time for joy. 

So I did it. For 40 days, I got up 30 minutes earlier to spend that time with God. Each morning, I meditated. I focused on breathing. I tried to stop my mind from wandering. I reflected on the JOY God’s presence brings to my life. I’m not sure I ever got good at meditating, but I loved how it made me feel each day. I was energized. I felt more in tune with myself and with God.

Psalm 37 tells us: “If you are delighting yourself in the Lord, and He gives you your heart’s desires, then your desires would certainly be in line with His desires.”  Right? As we move forward during this Lenten season let us all include a thought and prayer for the JOY of our life.

 

Dear God,

My heart desires you.  Give me a reminder of your goodness today. Thank you for the joy in my life. Amen.


--Pam Day

Wednesday, February 17, 2021

Ash Wednesday Devotion: Careful / Care-full

 

Joel 2:1 Blow the trumpet in Zion; sound the alarm on my holy hill. Let all who live in the land tremble, for the day of the LORD is coming. It is close at hand— 2 a day of darkness and gloom, a day of clouds and blackness. Like dawn spreading across the mountains a large and mighty army comes, such as never was in ancient times nor ever will be in ages to come. 12 “Even now,” declares the LORD, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning.” 13 Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the LORD your God, for he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, and he relents from sending calamity. 14 Who knows? He may turn and relent and leave behind a blessing— grain offerings and drink offerings for the LORD your God. 15 Blow the trumpet in Zion, declare a holy fast, call a sacred assembly. 16 Gather the people, consecrate the assembly; bring together the elders, gather the children, those nursing at the breast. Let the bridegroom leave his room and the bride her chamber. 17 Let the priests, who minister before the LORD, weep between the portico and the altar. Let them say, “Spare your people, LORD. Do not make your inheritance an object of scorn, a byword among the nations. Why should they say among the peoples, ‘Where is their God?’ ”

 
“Be careful”: It’s a phrase that has a double meaning: In the midst of a crazy world, “Watch out – resist temptation to go it alone.  Resist temptation to blame another.  Resist temptation to forget who God made you to be.  There are plenty of chances to veer off course.  Be careful!” - 

That’s what this day, Ash Wednesday, is all about.  And this day is also about the other meaning: ”Be Careful!  Be full of care.  Care full."  Full of care for your own heart and mind and strength and soul, and full of care for God’s ways.  Full of care for your neighbor, as yourself.  We are dust, and to dust we shall return.  Embrace that, and who knows what blessings God will bestow.  Being careful can make all the difference.

Our world has its bright spots – like the daffodils peeking up on our front lawn, and the laughter of the children playing in the snow, teachers who reach the hearts of their students, the countless examples of folks helping neighbors and first responders acting quickly and saving lives.  It’s not the first time – there’s been beauty in the world ever since the world was the world.  The Garden of Eden was beautiful, the animal diversity on the ark, under the rainbow, the lilies of the field.  In 1967 Louis Armstrong recorded how he thinks to himself, “what a wonderful world!” and we’re still singing it.  Our world has its bright spots.

But there are darker forces at work too. 

An intelligence official recently said if you were to make an around the world tour of all the conflict spots you’d be busy hopping from place to place for a lonnng time. 

A Christian youth ministry newsletter recently came into my inbox saying that teens today are experiencing a dating world that is radically different from even a few years ago.  If a teen broke up with another back in our day, you wrestled with it yourself.  Now because of social media, before you get home you may have 100’s of comments from bullies and online trolls.

Lower income workers – like in the home health care industry – are making less than they were a decade ago, when you adjust for inflation. 

And don’t get us started on this Pandemic. 

Marvin Gaye sang in 1971 words in Inner City Blues that are still true today.  “Makes me want to holler, and throw up both my hands.”

All throughout the Bible, there are good times, and bad times.  In the scripture lesson for Ash Wednesday evening, the prophet Joel is describing the onslaught of a nation-decimating army.  It’s an army of millions – very small but devastating.  Evidently, there’s been a locust plague.  Huge swarms of big grasshoppers, eating the very livelihood and future of a nation.  The people don’t have pesticides.  They don’t have transportation to migrate to other places.  They don’t have semi trucks and freezer storage and canned goods and international relief organizations to outlast the crisis.  People are dying; futures are ruined; society has ground to a halt.

Maybe that sounds too much like today.  Lent is a time to remember our own hearts are in play in this life.  Maybe it is time to remember the sanctity and wholeness of our own heart.  Our heart keeps beating, keeps feeling, keeps longing to be seen and held and appreciated, keeps desiring to be in brother/sisterhood with our neighbors and with our creator.  Ash Wednesday is a day to remember who we are without the noise.  From ashes we came, and to ashes we will return.  The man who lives a subsistence lifestyle off the grid in northern Siberia is just as much dust of the earth as the jet-setting executive.  The one who is making a fancy dinner and has the habit of taking a picture of it for me to drool over is no more worthy of God’s love than the one who burned the grilled cheese and is not sure whether there will be food tomorrow morning.  God’s son came into the world for all of us.  You are a human being.  Yes you.  The cross of ashes we so often receive reminds us that we are simply trying our best, that we have made dust-like messy decisions, that we have failed more times than we can count, and it reminds us that God loves us soooooo much that God would reach out and touch our priceless bodies through the body of Christ the church. 

The world won’t get better if I blame Them.  I certainly can’t change Them (although I can bear witness to the resurrection and hope that God’s grace sinks in), but I can remember who I am in God’s sight – the subject of God’s love.  Maybe during these forty days I can be reminded to quiet the noise and tune into my heart – to gently set aside those behaviors that have helped me forget who I am and what I’m meant to do.

So Joel’s passage, set in the midst of a decimated world that was literally being eaten away, reminds us to not let the headlines distract us from our own heart-life.  The prescription, the medicine, the remedy, is a returning to God, fasting (going without some habitual comforts), weeping and mourning for the losses all around us.  The remedy is to focus on our own lives, to examine and weep for our condition, to put God back in the center.  To strip away that which distracts us from who we are, to turn our backs on that which would cause us to scapegoat someone else for the problems of the world, remembering that God’s salvation is always at work.

And lastly, Joel’s passage inspires us to not sink into a me-first survival mentality.  No, God tells God’s people, people of faith like you and me, ordinary people in the midst of bad times, to come together – to gather together – to pray and worship God and encourage one another.  This is critical stuff.  Joel’s words even use an example to portray the urgency – let the bridegroom leave his room and the bride her chamber.  Don’t even let what seems like urgent stuff – even a wedding in this example! -  delay your coming together to dwell together as God’s people – to cry out to God on behalf of the whole people.  Going to church isn’t just a bolted on event to make you feel better about your week.  Doing life together as God’s people – praying together – caring for one another – sacrificing together – is a necessity for survival – for God’s blessings to be poured out.  Let the elders come, and the nursing babies, and everyone in between – to follow God together.  Even in the midst of the assembly, it’s tempting to take a me-first attitude.  Have you ever seen one of those survival shows where someone gets caught with a secret stash of snickers bars?  We all have our stashes, don’t we?  We all fall short.  Hence the ashes on our foreheads – we aren’t perfect, we’re like dust, the cross reminds us that Jesus forgives our sins because sin we do.  The cross reminds us that the stashes are for sharing; for losing; and in losing, finding salvation together.

Let us pray:  Dear God, help me Be Careful.  Open my eyes to watch out – to resist temptation to go it alone – to resist the temptation to blame another – to resist the temptation to forget who God made me to be.  I know, God, that there are plenty of chances to veer off course.  Help me to be careful.  Help me to be full of care.  Full of care for my own heart and mind and strength and soul, and full of care for God’s ways.  Full of care for my neighbor, and for myself.  We are dust, and to dust we shall return.  Help us all to embrace that truth, and who knows what blessings God will pour out upon us.  Amen.


--Pastor Ed

Lenten Devotions - Introduction


Today begins the Christian season of Lent - forty days of preparation for Easter.  Our pastoral intern, Kolby Golliher, has organized an effort to collect devotions and reflections written by our Long Memorial friends, to help guide us through.  Thank you Kolby!  And thank you to all who have contributed to make this possible.

The world is disorienting. As I type this, we are digging out from an ice storm, and about to be hit by another.  It is Ash Wednesday, but the ongoing pandemic prevents us from gathering together, and the power outages and internet disruptions have kept us from even an online observance.  I hope that you will find guidance from God to humble yourselves and thank God as you seek God's direction and forgiveness, even though we can't participate in our normal routines.  Perhaps more than ever, the truth of this verse is for us:

"For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God, rather than burnt offerings."  Hosea 6:6 (New Revised Standard Version)

It is our hope that you might be reminded of God's love, and the love of our church, as you journey through Lent accompanied by these devotions.  

May we love one another with steadfast love, and grow in our knowledge of our loving God this Ash Wednesday, and throughout this Lenten season.

--Pastor Ed

Saturday, July 4, 2020

Reflection and Meditation on the Covenant Prayer

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A Covenant Prayer in the Wesleyan Tradition (UM Hymnal 607)
I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed by thee or laid aside by thee,
Exalted for thee or brought low by thee.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
Thou art mine and I am thine.  So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven.  Amen.

A Meditation on the Covenant Prayer
(written in my own words; what it means to me today, July 1, 2020)

My time is not my own, but yours.  Call me to do and to be what you need me to do and be.

May I be associated with whomever you need me to be, not as their teacher or student, but as their neighbor.  If I am to walk with the poor, the despondent, the frustrated, the tired, the weak, so be it; and may I be a presence of contentment, encouragement, patience, listening, and sustenance in their midst.  If I am to walk with the wealthy, the unrepentant, the bad examples, the insensitive, the powerful, so be it; and may I be a presence of humility, of contrition, of integrity, and compassion in their midst.

May I overcome my own lethargy and overwhelmedness by taking small simple steps that spread your love, and may I refuse to let my desires for perfection and control be the enemies and obstacles to participation and trying, however imperfect they may be.  If sharing what you have given means I must make do with less or with nothing, may you be my strength to continue.  If, in allying myself with the powerless, I suffer as they do, may my suffering deepen my love for them and for you. 

May you call me to work if work is what is needed, may you call me to speak if speech is needed, may you call me to rest if rest is needed, may you call me to silently pray behind a closed door if silent prayer is needed, may you call me to step aside if you need room for others to work and speak.  May you grant me the wisdom to know what is needed.

If others can be encouraged by your light shining through me, then shine that light.  If I must lose the reputation I have so carefully crafted so that others may see your strength in my weakness and your glory in my inadequacy, so be it. 

Provide for my every need, provide blessings to overflowing, and I will give you praise and glory.  If all my provisions are lost or given away, and I am wandering through the world’s desert in search of the next oasis, may my search be first and only for you, and may my desire be to trust that you will provide enough for my daily bread.  If I experience the bliss of constant communion and the blessed assurance of your grace, may I share you as the source.  If my spirit feels lost in the fog and cacophony of society, and my mind is filled with doubts and longing, may you be the ocean on which my small boat drifts – all around me and upholding me, always.

May you provide every resource at my fingertips to accomplish what you have set before me; but if those supplies are nowhere to be found, may you be a lamp to light my feet and the patience to quiet my discontent on the quest to gather what is needed.

All that I am, and all that I have, I offer it to you.  Whether I am in the midst of the storm, or in view of the peaceful sunset, I want to praise you.  You are the Three in One, always in relationship with yourself.  May I be in relationship with you and with my neighbor.

Words are easy to speak, letters are easy to write, but a life serving you is a challenge to live.  Remind me of your grace, when my efforts fall short or when your voice seems far away.  Remind me that you are with us always, and that we are yours; remind us that your communion is best of all and your mercy never fails. Amen.

-Pastor Ed

Friday, May 1, 2020

Who Am I?


Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

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This message to you is a little longer than usual, since I haven’t had much time with you (so I have a lot to say!) and since many of us have more time on our hands than usual (so you have a lot of time to read!).  I hope you won’t mind.


“And now the cry of the Israelites has reached me, and I have seen the way the Egyptians are oppressing them.  So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt.”  But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”  And God said, “I will be with you. And this will be the sign to you that it is I who have sent you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you[b] will worship God on this mountain.”  Moses said to God, “Suppose I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ Then what shall I tell them?”  God said to Moses, “I am who I am.  This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I am has sent me to you.’” (Exodus 3:9-14)
“Let us make humankind in our image” (Genesis 1:26)

Way back when, when I was a boy, my brother and the neighbor kids and I would play up and down the street, running around, playing cops and robbers, hide and seek, football and baseball, riding bikes;  I haven’t played those games in a long time and would quickly need an oxygen tank if I tried!.  Not quite as long ago, when I was in college, I learned to solve partial differential equations and the basics of quantum mechanics; now I can’t remember how to solve those complex math and physics problems.  Like most parents, I have fond memories of reading to my children, snuggled up on my lap two at a time; my kids don’t fit on my lap anymore, and they ask for money instead of time reading a book. 
When I entered the workforce, I learned to program on a mainframe computer and troubleshoot problems for an airline, at times flying across the country every week; It’s been a few years since I’ve been on a plane or walked into a business meeting.  Which era of my life was really me?

As a pastor for the past 17 years, up until just two months ago (with the exception of a snow day about every two years), each week I would put on a black robe and greet folks that shared my faith as they streamed into a beautiful sanctuary.  We would pray and sing and hug and shake hands, laugh and sometimes cry, and pray some more.  I would spend the weeks dividing my time between administration and visitation and teaching and preparation for the coming week’s sermon.  In this pandemic, those routines have now changed significantly, as now most of the visits are over the phone.  Some of my pastor friends have encountered tragic situations, trying to do pastoral care and perform funerals in this time of isolation, when family members can’t gather to comfort one another, because they are trying to protect one another out of love and compassion.  We’ve all been experiencing the changing of our routines, the loss of regular contact with friends and family, the introduction of new anxieties.  We are dealing with much greater uncertainty about how the future will unfold.  Employment, education, finances, travel, health, it’s all less defined than it was just a few months ago.  How will we know what to do?

These uncertainties have us questioning our identities.  I remember, after my first son was born, that I was working and Amy was able to stay home.  After a few years and two more children were born, my wife went back to work.  It was a huge change!  I loved my family, but I was very accustomed to a pattern of life where I would work during the day and spend family time on weekends and evenings.  When I had to start arranging my schedule around school drop off and pickup, I thought, “How can I be a good worker when I’m sitting in car line?”  “How can I get this project done for my boss if I’m changing diapers?”  I laugh about it now, but at the time it was stressful!  That transition to different parental-duty-sharing took a long time!  When I entered seminary, I experienced a similar shift.  As an undergraduate, I was a focused student and my grades were my top priority.  In seminary, I had a student pastorate to tend and a family to raise, and I simply didn’t have enough time in the day to do all the reading and writing to be at the top of my academic game.  “Dear God, Who do you want me to be?” 
Some of the changes and anxieties throughout my life occurred as a result of major crises in our society.  The fear of societal shakeup with the Y2K computer bug, and the attacks on New York and Washington DC, the popping of the housing bubble.  What if society collapsed?  What if the banks lost our savings?  What if, what if, what if?  Should I clear my suburban backyard of trees and learn to plant wheat and vegetables?  I don’t know how to be a subsistence farmer!
I remember asking God some of those questions at my breakfast table one morning shortly before the Y2K computer bug was predicted to hit.  That particular morning, in the midst of my worry, God more or less replied, almost audibly:  “If you think what you have accumulated is only your doing, Ed, well, good luck.  I’ll leave you to your own devices.  But I hope you remember that I am the giver of every good gift – your job, your home, your relationships, everything good comes from me, and I have given you what you need.  I will continue to give you what you need.  I hope you trust ME, but the choice is yours.”  God hasn’t often, or really ever before or since, spoken in that way to me; but the message sunk into my heart.  I decided to let go of the worry, and to trust that God would see us through, even if the circumstances changed negatively and life looked different than it had.  I decided to trust that God would provide enough, and that was good enough.

Teenagers moving into adulthood often embark on a journey of identity – to “find themselves,” to “discover who they are.”  It’s an important question.  Often, though, it is tied to some notion of achievement.  “I am somebody” if I (fill in the blank: get this job, get a good grade, get into this college, graduate on time, never have to ask someone to help, make my daddy proud).  Times of uncertainty, like the ones we are currently in with this pandemic, make us question that identity:  “If I have to have a job to be somebody, and now I’ve lost my job, who am I?  Am I worthy of love?  Am I a failure?” 

The answer to the question, “Who am I”, I believe, is partially found in our scripture this morning.  We are made in God’s image, it says in Genesis.  “Who is God?” we ask.  “Who shall I tell the Israelites is sending me?” Moses asks.  God says, “Tell them, “I am.”” “Tell them I have heard their cries of suffering.”  God did not say “I do” or “I’m good at creating stuff.”  God said, “I am,”  We are made in that very image of God.  As God’s children, we find our ultimate identity as Beings.  We are.  Period.  Not ultimately “We do,” or “we are good widget-makers.  Those statements might be true, we might be good or not good at making widgets, but ultimately, our worth is found in the truth that God dreamed us up and created us just as we are, and that is enough for God.  That is enough to be loved supremely.  It was enough for God to say, “Tell them my name is I am,” and it is enough for us to know that God takes delight in us just as we are.  And God feels the same about our neighbors; every one of them.

As beings, to be sure, we will have moments and even days of anxiety and challenge and even some measure of failure.  We might not know what move to make next.  We might have to get reoriented after major disappointments.  We might need to heal after suffering a great injury.  We might have to experience humility and beg forgiveness after harming another.  We might even have to come to terms with our own limitation and mortality, if our business struggles or fails, or if a health condition takes away our dreams for travel and leisure or even comfort.  But that doesn’t change the truth that “We are.”  Our worth comes from being, not doing. 

So the next time you start thinking, “Why is this happening to me?  Who am I if I’m not a (fill in the blank),”  I wonder what would happen if you asked God, “God, what are you up to?  What will you do in or around me as we journey through this circumstance?  Continue to reveal to me who you are, and who I am.”  “I will trust in you, this day, and forevermore, because you are the great “I am” and I am made in your image.  I am wondrously made, and that is enough.”  No matter what today may bring, may we not worry about it; may we instead direct our attention to God to walk with us all the way through it, delighting in God’s company as we go.
Amen.
Yours in Christ,
Pastor Ed