Pastor's Blog

 

This past Sunday there were several very moving and “holy” moments when the Spirit of God broke through and spoke deeply to my heart. I want to share them with you and offer a few reflections today.

 

During our 10:45 service little Tess Martens (7 years old) offered her gifts to God in worship as she played “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee” for the offertory, followed by her simple rendition of the doxology, “Praise God, From Whom All Blessings Flow”. As she played, we stood, and the ushers brought our financial gifts forward in dedication to Christ. I can’t fully capture the experience with words, but there was something about that moment that was so inspiring to me. Tess, this young child, was willing to give her best to God through her musical offering, as our own gifts were being presented to God as well. There was something about the sincerity and simplicity of Tess’s music, mingled with our own gifts that stirred my soul and my imagination.  

 

In that same service we also had a moving moment when we asked Bob and Pat Buss to come forward as we prayed for them and commissioned them for short-term missionary service to the people of Belem, Brazil. Bob and Pat are a couple who could easily be settling into a life of comfort and ease in their early retirement years, but they’ve felt a persistent nudging from the Holy Spirit to offer their unique gifts to God in reaching out to others. They will be serving with the Brazilian Branch of Wycliffe Bible Translators for several weeks in August. Bob has been writing the help files for a translation software application called Adapt It. This software will aid the indigenous people in translating the Bible into their own languages and dialects. Bob has specific training and knowledge that will prove invaluable to those who will be using this program to reach people with the message of God’s Word.

 

In sending Bob and Pat forth into Christ’s service with our prayerful blessing, we spoke these words: “Bob and Pat, we recognize you as ambassadors of this congregation in ministry with the people of Belem, Brazil and dedicate you to service in the name of Jesus Christ. Through our prayers we will be united with you in your work. May God richly bless your labors.”  As we shared in this order of worship I noticed that tears welled up in the eyes of both Bob and Pat. I sensed in those tears a true thankfulness for our support and a heartfelt hopefulness that God would use their simple gifts in service to others.

 

I’ve thought about those two moments for several days now, and I can’t get away from one compelling truth. All of us, without exception, have our own unique gifts to offer God. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a seven-year-old child with a desire to play the piano for God, or a retired couple with a heart-hungering to reach people with the message of God’s love and grace revealed in Christ. What does matter is our willingness to place ourselves and our gifts in God’s hands…our desire to make a difference for the sake of Christ by offering what we have.

 

I know this is not a new or novel insight, nevertheless, the truth of it came home in a powerful way for me personally this past Sunday. As I watched Tess Martens descend the chancel steps with a broad smile on her face…and as I looked at the thankful tears welling up in the eyes of Bob and Pat Buss, I’m sure that God’s heart was leaping for joy!   

 

 

There are obvious signs around here that our new sanctuary and kitchen addition is under construction. In several locations, subcontractors have broken through the walls of the existing sanctuary, exposing heating and cooling ductwork and infrastructure that was previously hidden.

 

My wife has cancer. This past week Linda underwent surgery at The Cancer Institute on the campus of St. Luke’s Hospital on the Plaza in Kansas City. The surgery revealed that her cancer is more extensive than we had hoped. Now we await a meeting with the oncology team to lay out a prescribed plan of treatment that will probably involve both chemotherapy and radiation treatments.

 

I’m finding that it’s tempting, in situations like this, to want to run ahead and worry about things before their time. The mind tends to mull over possible scenarios. Silent anxieties easily surface. All of this has caused me to reflect on the fact that we preachers find ourselves saying things larger than ourselves. I know that I often call people to a life I am not always fully able to live myself. I hope that doesn’t make me a hypocrite. But I take some solace from the words of the late Henry Nouwen. In his book, The Wounded Healer, he makes this honest confession: “Hypocrisy is not so much of not living what I preach but much more of not confessing my inability to fully live up to my own words.” I’m certainly not unwilling to confess my frailty in this regard. So, maybe I’m not a hypocrite after all.   

 

Speaking of Henry Nouwen, in recent days, I’ve found myself drawn to another one of his books. With Open Hands is his 30-year-old text on prayer that remains a treasured classic today. In particular, I’ve drawn a lot of strength from the distinction he makes between wishfulness and hoping. Essentially, Nouwen asserts that wishing is begging for easy answers and immediate fulfillment. For him, wishing is praying “the prayer of little faith” because it seeks the direct satisfaction of very specific desires and requests. Wishing essentially focuses on the immediate and requires us to hold on more tightly, thus leaving us in control. And control is something that we have such a hard time relinquishing.

 

On the other hand, hope focuses on the future and places complete faith in God, allowing us to let go and trust. Hope keeps us from getting so tangled up with nearsighted concerns over just how our wishes will be fulfilled. Hope is a way of placing our unlimited faith and trust in the Giver of all good things.

 

If you’re praying for us today, pray that we’ll be able to do just that…to let go and simply trust.

 

     ~ Fred

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t know about you, but I find it takes a lot of intentionality on my part to keep from drifting toward isolating and insulating myself from others. And I’m praying that we’ll experience a new sense of community and “connectedness” this Fall as we share in this small group experience.

 

Here’s an image that might speak to all us about our need for each other. Do you remember those times when, in the aftermath of some storm event, you were left without power? You were in the dark, without lights, without a way to connect to the internet and the outside world. It seemed that all you had to do was watch and wait for repair teams to show up in your neighborhood so the power would return. You felt somewhat isolated and cut off from the rest of the world. Then finally, the repair crew showed up and you felt a renewed burst of energy as power surged through the lines and into your home. You were connected again!

 

I’m hoping that our small group experience will do that for us. I’m praying that we’ll experience the power of God’s Spirit surging through us, connecting us to each other in community and connecting us to the needs of people around us. In short, I’m praying that we’ll be a living demonstration of what the church is really supposed to be, people who are connected to God through worship, connected to each other through fellowship, and connected to the world in service. I truly believe that, whether we acknowledge it or not, it’s the connection we most deeply desire in life and the connection that we most consistently need.

 

     ~ Fred

  

 

Yesterday I participated in an incredibly moving worship experience here at Kearney First UMC. It was Youth Sunday with our student ministry in charge of the service. The worship was authentic. The Spirit was moving. The messages were uplifting. The music was inspiring. At several different points in the service, I found myself moved to tears. And I wasn’t alone. As I looked around the worship center, I noticed many others who were caught up in the power and presence of the Holy Spirit. Wow…what an experience!

 

I was particularly struck by several things: 1) The focus during the service was solidly on the students and the contributions they made in planning and leading the worship experience. 2) In the service itself, the focus was clearly on Christ and his transforming power to make “All Things New”. It was a true joy to witness the way in which the students supported each other and worked together as they lead us in an authentic and life-changing encounter with God.  I have to say that I am very proud of each of them.

 

The whole experience in worship yesterday reminded me of something I read a while back in a ministry magazine. The author described the purpose and aim of worship as that of creating “thin places” where the living presence of God can break through and intersect with our lives. When we experience these thin places the divide between us and God seems minimal and the love and grace of God comes within “touching distance”. That certainly happened in our midst during Youth Sunday.

 

I did a quick internet search of “thin spaces” and came across this notion in Celtic spirituality that there are certain places where people can go to be nearer to the presence of God. The idea is that there are actual geographic locations and settings that seem to place certain people in an attitude of openness and receptivity to God’s power and presence. For instance, a mountain vista, a walk in the woods, a stroll along a beach, a quiet moment in a garden, a peaceful pew in a chapel…all these can become thin places, opening us up to the possibility of an encounter with God.

 

One thing seems certain to me. We all need such sacred time and spaces where the mundane realities of our everyday lives can be exposed to the reality of God’s transforming presence. Wherever and whenever that happens…it’s a beautiful experience. I’m just thanking God on this Monday morning that Youth Sunday worship was one such beautiful experience for me.

 

     ~ Fred

 

 

Last week I flew back home to Mississippi to be with my younger sister, Darla, who was nearing the end of her battle with cancer. I flew out of Kansas City International airport and, after making a connecting flight at the Dallas-Fort Worth airport, arrived in Jackson, Mississippi shortly after noon.

 

The drive out of the airport complex followed a beautiful, winding boulevard that showcased dogwood trees, crepe myrtle trees and azalea bushes in full and glorious bloom. As I rolled down the car window, I was assaulted with the sights and scents of spring time in Mississippi. The experience brought back a flood of childhood memories and fond experiences of growing up in my hometown of Vicksburg.

 

In stark contrast to the scene outside my window, the conversation inside the car centered on my sisters struggle with the disease that would take her life just a few hours after my arrival. I couldn’t help but be struck by the strange juxtaposition of new life blooming and bursting out all over, and one life coming to an end. And in the immediate wake of my sister’s death, as we prepared for and attended her funeral service, I was constantly reminded of the tension between life and death, joy and sorrow, sad good-byes and happy hellos. My emotions flowed in “pendulum swing” fashion from highs to lows. I experienced the joy of seeing old friends and family members that I hadn’t seen in ages. I enjoyed sharing quirky family stories about my sister and about our life together in earlier times. I appreciated the sincere and heart-felt assurances of love and support that came from so many. And yet, there were moments when the depth and reality of our loss came flooding in so powerfully, that I succumbed to periods of deep grief and free-flowing tears.

 

And the beauty of it all is that God was in it all. If I believe anything about the reality of God and my relationship with Christ, it’s this: in all of our life experiences, God is there. We’re never abandoned in aloneness. We’re never forgotten or forsaken. The same God who walked with my sister through the valley of the shadow of death, is the same God who is with her now on the other side of the grave, and the same God who sustains us who are left behind on this side of the great divide. Don’t ask me to explain it. I don’t care to…and I couldn’t fully explain it even if I had a notion to do so. And yet, the assurance that it’s true is what sustains and strengthens me every day. In life, in death, in life beyond death – God is with us. I know it’s true.  

 

 

 

The other day, while listening to National Public Radio, I heard a restaurant chef refer to his passion for cooking by saying, “When love is involved in it, it will show in the product.” This guy insisted that when you ate one of his signature dishes you could tell the difference…actually “taste the love” in every bite. He was convinced that the most vital ingredient in each of his dishes was the gift of himself being passionately poured into it.  

 

That comment from the chef led me to reflect on our calling as Christ followers to share the grace of God in Jesus Christ with others. When you think about it, our love for Christ should be the main ingredient in everything we do and the energizing core of our life together. Every ministry offered, every song lifted up in worship, every act of service rendered, every lesson taught in Sunday school, every life touched, should be our way of pouring the gift of ourselves into it out of our love for Christ.

 

And I wonder if people can’t tell the difference, too? I mean, what if people can actually “taste” the difference when our motives are pure and our actions are guided by love? Surely there’s a difference between churches that simply go through the motions and churches that make the connection between what they do and why they do it. I know that I’m at my best when my Christian service is a reflection of the love I have for Christ. I serve most effectively when I make the connection between what I do and why I’m doing it.

 

I can’t help but think about a post-Easter story when Jesus made that connection too. Remember how Jesus shared that breakfast of fish and bread over a charcoal fire on the seashore with Peter? In the midst of their meal together, Jesus said, “Peter, do you love me?” And when Peter responded in the affirmative, Jesus followed with, “Then feed my lambs…take care of my sheep.” Obviously, Peter’s ministry to others was to be motivated by his love for the Risen Christ.

 

I want to throw out a challenge for our congregation on this week after Easter, as we seek to follow the same Risen Christ. Let’s strive to be a church known for our uncommon love for Christ and others. Let’s pray that people will see that we’re ordinary people who’ve discovered the extraordinary joy of knowing, loving and serving Christ. Let’s pray that the people we serve will be able to “taste the love” in everything we do.  

 

     ~ Fred

 

 

I had never heard that phrase until I heard a clergy colleague use it a couple of months ago. I had no way of knowing how deeply I would need it. I’m broken now, but broken with a hallelujah.

 

Here we are in the midst of Holy Week, with Easter, the season that celebrates new life in Christ, just a few days away. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my younger sister, Darla, who is dealing with a case of terminal cancer. In the midst of life, we sometimes have to struggle with issues of human finitude and mortality.

 

I’ve had some moments in the past few days when those words, “broken hallelujah” have spoken deeply to me. I googled the words on the internet and found a guy named Leonard Cohen who has a haunting way of singing, “Hallelujah.” I’ve also heard from several staff members here at the church, that the movie Shrek, features a song with a somber, broken hallelujah. In addition, I found a reference to a theological paper in which the writer said, “Somewhere between suffering and hope lies poetry, somewhere between the Cross and the Resurrection lies the ‘cold and broken Hallelujah.’” That’s where we are: between the reality of death and the hope of the resurrection…a cold and broken hallelujah. And I think that’s where I am also in my heart today…between the reality of death and the hope of the resurrection.

 

I don’t know about you, but I’m thankful that there is space for songs of broken hallelujahs in our faith. I’m thankful that the One who offers us new life is also the One who goes all the way to death for us and with us.

 

So, why am I telling you all of this?

 

First, this is more for me than it is for you. Putting words around the unspeakable is the stock and trade for preachers like me. It’s the way we try to explain the unexplainable and manage the unmanageable.

 

Second, it’s an all-too-painful reminder of just how quickly life can slip away from us. It’s a reminder that we always need to be prepared…prepared in our relationships, prepared in our faith, and prepared in our hearts to deal with the reality of pain, loss and death. It’s a reminder that the reality of death is not a cause for fear, but a call to live every day in the fullness of life that God intends.

 

Third, it’s to say that faith really does matter. Faith matters especially in those moments when we face the ultimate realities of life and death. There’s a very pragmatic reason for developing a growing, living faith through the disciplines of prayer, worship, service and Christian friendships. We don’t “find” faith in dark times. Instead, the faith that we’ve nurtured across the years finds us, holds us, binds us, and will see us through. I know that right now, my sister’s faith in Christ is the most precious treasure that she’s clinging to. It’s her faith that will see her through.

 

During this Holy Week, as we walk with Christ to the Cross, I pray that we can sing our “broken Hallelujahs” and anticipate the new life to come.

 

     ~ Fred

 

 

There’s been a lot of talk lately about Easter arriving so early this year. Because the dating of Easter is based on the lunar calendar, it moves around on our Roman calendar…and this year it really seemed to sneak up on most of us.

 

This morning as I was walking across the church parking lot on my way into the office, I thought for a moment that I could sense just a faint hint of Spring in the air. Now, I know that Spring hasn’t arrived just yet…and we’re probably going to have a few more “snow events” before Winter gives up its grip on us. And yet, there was this unmistakable something in the air that signaled the hope of a new season on its way.

 

It got me to thinking about the transitions and the changing seasons in the life of our congregation. It’s just amazing to look back and see how much has happened in this church. God has been so good to us. We’ve transitioned successfully from our downtown location to our present campus. We’ve moved through two building projects and are now in the design phase for a third construction project. We’ve seen steady, solid, sustainable growth in virtually every measurable area of ministry and church health. Wow! What a ride it’s been!

 

And the exciting thing is this…there’s much more just around the bend for us. Who knows just what God has in store for us as we move forward in faith together. Personally, I’m excited about some of the design concepts for our new facility that will be coming from the architectural engineers in the coming weeks. The enlarged and enhanced worship center and kitchen space is obviously much needed. But, I have to be honest; I’m even more excited about how our ministry and impact for Christ will be shaped by the new space. After all, buildings are just tools…important and necessary tools, but tools, nonetheless. What’s important is how we’re using all of the resources at our disposal to change lives, make disciples and make a difference in this world for Christ’s sake.

 

I know the truth; that faint hint of Spring in the air this morning is a sure sign that new life and new growth is on the way. In the same way, I sense this settled assurance in my heart that the same is true for the ministry we share together. We have much for which to be thankful. God has richly blessed us, but the best is yet to come!

 

     ~ Fred