Human hopes, human fears...advent begins.

The seasonal valley we are entering promises to darken around us. The absence of light will send many into depression. We, along with those around us, are concerned about so many things. Steely fear stings us deep within, sending a lump to our throats and causing our eyes to squint in suspicion of our neighbor. Who can we trust?

Yet, hope teeters on the horizon. Perhaps the sun will not set behind the dark peak, but find an opening where rocky cliffs fall to the sea? Perhaps we will have light to guide us the rest of our way?

It is human to hope. It is human to fear.

One of my favorite Christmas songs is O Little Town of Bethlehem. We sing The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee, tonight. In these lines we read again the juxtaposition of hope and fear. The meeting place for these two? What is the location of their coming together? Christ.

And what will be the outcome of the clash? Which will prevail: hope or fear?

You tell me. Conquering foes ruled his homeland. Political division was rampant. The religious elite abused the poor, and held them at arm's length from faith. No one even noticed--and no wonder--when the helpless infant was born to illegitimate parents staying in some animal shelter. The only ones who caught on were some stargazers from another nation and religion, and a few ruffians at the bottom of the pay-scale camping out and watching sheep. Hope? (I've often thought that God could have used a marketing agency.)

And so we enter the holidays shadowed by long shopping lists and in fear of the worsening economy. We grieve loves we've lost, and long for something more. Religion is offering little direction and politicians are only heightening our fears that no one cares about anything but power. Somewhere an unobtrusive God is hiding in an unsuspected location. And our chore is to find the Christ.

Don't bother asking the kings, or the spiritual elite.

Perhaps he's living amongst the poor? (Matthew 25:40 & 45)

Simple Gifts: Thanksgiving Thoughts

Our harvests come one trip to the grocery after another. We can't remember having planted. Our safety through a hard winter is a foregone conclusion. Our shelters are built for us--we merely pay the mortgage. And disease is something we scoff at--H1Nwhat? How can we relate to the seafaring lot who landed on strange shores and scraped a living from the soil thanks to helpful locals? How can we even hope to find a place for gratefulness as we approach Thursday?

Perhaps a dose of one of the classic Christian disciplines might be in line for our holiday maladies. When we are silent, we appreciate our ability to speak. When we practice solitude, we learn to relish the presence of others. When we fast, we appreciate the taste of the simplest meal. When we serve the poor, we are grateful that we have plenty. When we sacrifice, we recognize our abundance.

I love the Shaker hymn Simple Gifts.

Tis a gift to be simple, tis a gift to be free.
Tis a gift to come down where we ought to be.
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gained,
to bow and to bend we shall not be ashamed.
To turn, turn, will be our delight,
till by turning, turning we come round right.

Perhaps this week you will find time for the simple joys of simplicity.

Preparing for Advent--One More Time

It is far too simple to stand on the outside, and think I know what is inside. As I approach Advent, it is far too easy to assume that the titles, texts and themes I prepared in early October are completed projects. We know what's going to happen, right? The Word becomes flesh. God is with us. Don't be afraid. A virgin with child. Approaching Advent can feel like a late year return to the same old amusement park, with a well worn season pass.

But this is no time for amusement. "A-muse".
"A" = not.
"Muse" = think.
Not think.

This is not a season to enter with a closed mind or a closed heart. For those who will lead congregations or bible studies or friends in the process of living another Advent, I throw out this challenge: Live it new. Live the story for the first time. Discover the staggering truths of this season just one more time

And let's drop the pretense that we can teach or lead in this mysterious territory. Seek to see the invisible. Try to believe the impossible. Pray that we can explain the unimaginable. And we will approach our task humbly, with wise-men hearts--knowing there is a king somewhere at the end of the journey, but not yet sure where to find him.

The beauty of small beginnings

I made quite an issue of providing artificial kindling this morning. A full double sheet of newspaper, rolled into a long tube and tied in a knot. I put three of those contrivances in the wood stove, arranged a couple of large logs over them and set them afire. When I came back with my coffee a few minutes later, the logs were blackened, the paper was gone and so was the flame.

So stepping through the fog and out to the carport woodpile, I grabbed the hatchet and began to chip off small pieces of a larger log. Slivers mostly. A few cut away from the log as thicker brittle sticks--much larger than slivers, yet unimpressive. Carrying my treasures back inside I arranged them in a hollow pile, then poked the tiniest pieces of newspaper underneath them. Ah, the power of small beginnings.

I knew when I began with the grandiose display of knotted newspaper that my fire had little chance. Heavy logs take time to get in the mood for burning. But the sliver effect--the small beginnings of tiny flickers reaching ever larger tinder...makes ever larger fire. And now the large oak logs have surrendered. The cabin is warming and the box of fire is glowing. And the quiet, day-off morning is beginning.

Small beginnings indeed.

Perspective on Winter

November is casting its gray shadows where I live. A friend once gave me sage advice: David, I learned a long time ago not to pay homage to the weather. We had been walking across a broad blacktopped parking lot in an Arizona summer. The temperature was well into the one hundred and teens. Jim was older than I, and had lived his entire life in the Arizona desert. My question had been, Jim, does the weather ever get you down?

Now I'm not going to pretend that dark days don't play their games with my outlook. But I will profess that I love this time of year. My son calls winter his favorite season. There is power in resignation and submission. As I often say: God is God, and I am not. Really, when it comes down to it, that settles lots of things.

Our first winter back in Brown County, we didn't have a four-wheel-drive vehicle to get us up the quarter mile hill and to our driveway. There were a few times when, after several runs at it, I had to park at the bottom and walk up the steep incline--in dress shoes--to make it home. The worse part were the times when the hill had started to melt and then re-frozen. A nice glaze of ice makes going downhill an adrenaline rush that you'd rather not have. Especially since at the bottom of the hill is State Highway 46, and 55 MPH traffic. (Finally I had justification to get my Jeep Wrangler!) My Jeep--or as I call it, my vacation between destinations--makes winter much more bearable.

I guess this is my annual appeal to people who love to complain about the weather (or who think there is something not fair about it, or who think life is better where the climate is different), this is my plea for them to consider letting the elements be the elements. Allow the high and low systems to come and go as they will. It feels good to embrace the brace of winter. And then be grateful when you have a warm place to go home to.

I've had to turn down two people this morning who need help with their rent. They may not be so fortunate as to have a warm place to call home this winter. Now that is something I'm tempted to whine about...as I sit in my beautiful and centrally heated church office.

THE RUNAWAY PASTOR Feedback

I get a lot of questions about the price of my book The Runaway Pastor on amazon.com. Several different booksellers are there offering the same book for various discounts (or premiums) as well as varying levels of shipping costs. Yeah, I don't know. All I can say is that I'm amazed at the intricacies of how this business operates. And, I guess I'm just glad that it does.

First of all, this online bookstore (known as the largest bookstore in the world) provides an easy way for a book to be purchased almost anywhere in the western world. They receive the mother of all discounts when selling a book, leaving publisher and author with a very small cut on the deal--so to speak. The large discount they get from the publisher is a small price to pay when compared to the service they provide. Besides, I have no illusions of making money on this book.

Second, the feedback system is amazing. Of course there is the review system. Readers are provided the opportunity to give each book sold there a rating between 1 and 5 stars, then they write and record their thoughts and put them up for anyone to see! If you have read the novel, and if you have ordered from amazon.com before, I would invite you to review the book there. Thanks to all of those who have.

Another aspect of the feedback system is something I'm just beginning to understand: The book ranking. Each day on the book's page at amazon.com there is a ranking that shows. At first these rankings seemed insulting. But there are millions of books in the system, and being ranked in the hundreds of thousands, isn't bad I guess. (I've had an occasional gust of the low 20 thousands.) This project is one with no marketing budget, no paid advertising, etc. So if it grows, it will be because one reader recommends it to another, and slowly it gathers a following.

My only hope is that the messages of the book will get through to those who need to hear it. Soon there will be questions for discussion at runawaypastor.com and bulk discounts from the publisher so reading groups at churches or elsewhere can discuss them. Each one will be keyed to a paragraph or chapter reading from the book. These questions give me hope that people will wrestle with the message of the book. (If you have a suggestion for a question, please send it in.)

Thank you for reading here. Occasionally I will update you about the book project at this place, and more often I'll just write about life from my perspective. Eventually I may use this site for the book, and start another to do such writing. At this point in my life, I feel an urgency for the message of The Runaway Pastor to get out there. And I'll follow that leading as long as I must.

(NOTE: Please check out Zee's blog. She is an incredible young writer I met when she was a little girl in Kiev, Ukraine. Just click on her name in the comment column, and follow through her info to her blog.)

Blessing, benediction and you.

Such powerful magic--when one looks into the eyes of another and speaks Love...with or without words. As a pastor, I have known this indescribable joy of connection. These connections have been one on one, yet are even more startlingly fulfilling when God's Holy Spirit of Love connects pastor with a congregation.

I often feel this mysterious connection as I bless the congregation at the end of a service. A blessing is a gift I only recently learned to give. I now end a service with something like: You are the people of God. And you are--and live amongst a world full of those--stamped with God's image. Go and be the person and presence of Jesus! It seems so much more fitting than asking God to "protect us on the way home and bring us back next week. You are dismissed."

And we are to be a benediction--a blessing--to those with whom we interface day after day. And so I give you this blessing today.

You are loved by Almighty God. This very day, you are the target of his devotion and affection. Now go and live in God's love and forgiveness, and offer this grace and peace to those around you.