Three O'Clock Coffee

9-1-2011 Reflection

2011-09-13T10:18:00.000-05:00

Here is a copy of the sermon I gave this past Sunday, remembering the 10th anniversary of 9/11.

Ithas been ten years ago. Almost every oneof you high school/college age or older know what I am talking about. Everyone during their lifetime hassignificant events that change their course of life or how they think aboutthings—each one of us have different events and different times. Very rarely, there is something that happensthat affects or changes us all at the same time. One of those occasions began at 8:46 EasternTime, September 11, 2001.

Ithought I would finish a series on the seven deadly sins today, but like 10years ago, I felt led to interrupt my plans and address an item that’s been onmany of our minds this week—at least my mind.

Intwelve years of ministry, I have written over 700 sermons. The following is a message I gave for thefirst time on September 16, 2001, the first Sunday after the planes hit theWorld Trade Center:

Ican’t say that all of you felt like me this past week, but I am guessing thatmany of you went through some of the same emotions that I experienced. When I heard the news of the attack I wasmeeting with another pastor and we were discussing upcoming sermon topics. Carol, our secretary, came down and mentionedthat an airplane had crashed into the Trade Center. It was kind of shocking, but we continuedon. A few minutes later, Carol updatedme that not one, but both Trade Center towers had been struck and one hadfallen--the cause being quickly attributed to terrorists.

Mycolleague and I left our books sit and we went over to my home where we watchedthe terrible drama unfold on the screens in front of us. Two massive skyscrapers each filled withthousands of people and thousands gathered below had collapsed into a pile ofburning dust and rubble. The Pentagon,the symbol of the American military was in flames and smoking heavily from oneof its five sides. Hundreds lay dead orwounded inside. The remnants of one moreplane were smoldering in a field in rural Pennsylvania.

AsI saw replays over and over again on the television screen, I wondered,How? Why? Usually polished and professional, reportersand politicians were talking with quivering lips and shaky voices. Video clip after video clip of people runningand staggering through the dust and debris revealed the chaos of the day. Every so often video clips from the MiddleEast would be shown of people dancing in the streets and cheering the fact thatthe country they view as being the source of much of their trouble had beenwounded and hurt.

Youhave probably asked and are still asking some of the same questions that Iasked this past week. My questionsreflected shock. How could this happenhere? How and why could someone be socold and heartless to do this to innocent people? Why did God allow this to happen? Why? My questions reflected fear. Am I safe now? Will I be safe in the future? Then my mind turned to anger andrevenge. When are we going to get even?

Expertafter expert has been brought on the air to talk about what has happened and howAmerica should respond: terrorism,defense, rescue, etc. Even now, plansare being made for finding the terrorists and sending out militarystrikes. Then, a question came to methat I didn’t want to ask myself. As aChristian, how am I to respond? Peoplelook to pastors, too; we’re also supposed be experts, attempting to provideanswers for a event so horrific that simple words can’t explain it.

Wecan wrestle with the details—the motivation of the terrorists, what goes on inthe mind of someone who is willing to take his own life as well as the lives ofthousands of others. While nothing canjustify the actions of the people who did this, Christians should have abroader perspective on why such evil has happened this past week and we shouldrespond to it.

Themain, principal reason that this event happened is sin—plain and simple—and sinaffects us all—no matter where we live. Becauseof sin, we have lost shalom. Shalom is aHebrew word that means something along the lines of perfect peace, flourishing,wholeness, and delight. Shalom is whatexisted in the world before sin, and shalom is what we look for today as westrive to grow closer to God. CorneliusPlantinga calls shalom, “the way things ought to be.” Sin that exists in the world is a parasite, avandal, and a spoiler of the perfection that God placed in all ofCreation.

Thehardest part for us to acknowledge is that we, even we Christians, areparticipants in sin. The scaldingrealization is that even though we didn’t fly the planes, even though we aresickened, horrified, and angered by the loss of life, as sinners, we indirectlyshare in the responsibility of the pain that has occurred this past week. We also play a part in sabotaging what Godfirst created as perfect and good.

We’requick to point fingers at Muslims or the Islamic religion. We see only sterotypes, beards and burqhas,violent and driven. We think that theyare people who envy what we have in the West and would like to take fromus. As Christians, and particularly asAmerican Christians, we must be honest with ourselves and the shortcomings ofour country. I heard a quote on Tuesdaynight where a man observed the Trade Center Towers, “Look at what the hands ofmen can make. Now I see what the handsof men can take away.” Even as we havebeen blessed with so much wealth and freedom, how have we used that wealth andfreedom? How have we and how has ourcountry looked out only for its own interests and not to the needs ofothers?

Americansvalue freedom, yet that value often gets twisted into a notion that freedommeans that we can do whatever we please—either to our neighbors across the yardor pew, or across the ocean. It is thatabuse of freedom allows us to be easily bound and even enslaved by sin—webecome bound to our material goods. Webecome enslaved to greed, pleasure, or power. True freedom occurs only with our submission God. With God, we are given the freedom to seekshalom—peace, a perfect relationship with God and our neighbor. True freedom.

Iam privileged to live in this country. Iam honored to be American, but as Christians, citizens of God’s Kingdom, wecannot blindly follow all of the policies that our culture and or politicalparty of our choosing supports. Onceagain, first and foremost, we are Christians, citizens of God’s Kingdom. We belong to God, before we say that webelong to one country or another.

Whydidn’t God stop the planes from crashing? Why did over 5,000(3,000) people have to die? Historianslook at causes, but ultimately we know that sin and evil are active in theworld. If allowed to run its fullcourse, sin and evil would have entirely taken over. Yet God, with his grace, His restraining,stubborn grace, prevents the world from spinning into complete chaos. Without God working actively in the world, wewouldn’t be here worshipping today. Ibelieve we wouldn’t be here at all. Satan and sin would have taken everything that God had created and wouldhave destroyed it.

Itis a blessing that as stubborn as sin is, it isn’t a fraction of the amount ofthe stubbornness of God’s grace. God, inhis stubborn grace, refused and refuses to let sin win. God could have let the world end with a bigbang or whimper, but instead He sent His Son. Through Jesus, whatever end life has on earth, we have the promise ofeternal life through the power of God—a power that is strong enough to defeatdeath forever. Even though Satan and evil are still active in the world and cancause tremendous pain, remember the grace of God which gives us the hope thatone day, all pain, all suffering will end. Death itself will die.

Thepresident called for a National Day of Prayer this past Friday. Prayer is a visible sign of our dependence onGod. We must depend on God to deliver us. We must learn to depend on God, daily,hourly, and not only in times of crisis. We walk around with this illusion that we are on our own until somethinghappens that shakes us into remembering that whatever control we claim to havein our lives is fragile and easily lost. Don’t let a disaster of a national scale or a personal scale be the onlything that reminds us that God alone—not you or me, not the president, not themilitary—is in control.

When will Godmake things right? I haven’t referencedthe text yet, but I think if you read along, you can sense that the Psalmist isasking the same question. Vs. 1 says, Why, O LORD, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times oftrouble? The text goes on to describethe wicked and how they ignore God and yet seem to prosper.

In words thatremind me of what happened this past week, we read in vs. 10-11 that thewicked’s “victims are crushed, they collapse; they fall under his strength. ¹¹He says to himself, “God has forgotten; he covers his face and neversees.”

Rememberwhat God has done already. God createdthe world perfect and holy—in perfect peace, and He is not going to surrenderto Satan and give this Creation up. Tosay that God would abandon all that he made would be saying, “Satan, you ruinedcreation so much even I can’t do anything about it.” That is not the God we serve. God will give no ground to Satan.

Wehave the testimony of Scripture that has shown us that God has claimed us fromSatan. “While we were yet sinners,Christ died for us,” (Rom. 5:8) Believers in Jesus Christ can testify to the work of the Holy Spirit hasclaimed us, changed us, and brought us out of sin and into relationship withGod. God does not lose what heclaims. “Nothing is able to separate usfrom the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:39)

Will there bejustice? Absolutely. But we must remember that justice isultimately God’s, and God’s alone.

Vv. 16-17 saythis, “The LORD is King for ever and ever; the nations will perish from hisland. ¹⁷You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted; youencourage them, and you listen to their cry, ¹⁸defending thefatherless and the oppressed, in order that man, who is of the earth, mayterrify no more.

In the nextfew weeks we will be certain to hear of bombs and cruise missiles strikingthroughout the Middle East. They willcome from a military force supported by Americans who have thirst forvengeance. A leading politician in ourcountry said, “May God have mercy on them, because we won’t.” (McCain) I amconvinced that thousands more are yet to die, even more Americans as theybecome involved in the fighting. Perhapsthere will even be more terrorist strikes in the U.S. It is easier to believe that this is possibleafter this week.

As humanstouched by sin, our own attempts at justice are hollow. We strive for it, but in the end, no matterhow many people are imprisoned or even killed, sin still will continue. Ultimate justice will occur when God banishesand destroys sin and evil and the Devil who has spread it.

As anAmerican, I support searching and striving for justice as far as we can upholdit. I understand the need for ourcountry to seek and out and punish those who did this. When we sin there are earthly as well aseternal consequences—the same holds for these people.

However, as aChristian, we need to consider justice, but also grace. As the Psalmist writes, “If you, O Lord kepta record of sins, O Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness; therefore you are feared. I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and inhis word I put my hope.” (Psalm 103:3-5) We should pursue reconciliation as wellas justice. What is my role to encourageas the prophet Micah says, “Beat our swords into plowshares?” (Micah 4:3) America hearsthe voices of the victims in their minds, and wants the blood of her enemies onher hands. Will America feel betterafter that blood has been spilled? Vengeancegives temporary pleasure, but not lasting joy. The dead will still be dead. Families will still mourn their loved ones. The future battles will only create moredeath and debt. We will never get even, even if we repay death with death athousand times over. Peace will only comein its fullness when we stand before the throne of God and sing, “Holy, holy, holy! Lord God almighty!”

Today we celebrateda baptism—our Sunday school season begins as well. Part of our covenant promises are that wewill teach our children about our Lord and how he wants us to live. Will we remember to teach that God is Kingand that His justice alone is satisfying? Young and old together must look ahead to the time when Jesus himselfwill bring perfect justice and sin will be destroyed.

Jesus iscoming again. God will make thingsnew. God will bring perfect shalom tothe world again. Planes won’t crash intoskyscrapers killing thousands. Millionswon’t die around the world because disease or famine. There will be no more terrorism. No more rape, murder, or theft. No more bullies, no more victims. No more.

Be ready, notafraid of the future. Be prepared, andprepare others. God is King forever andever. The King has not only won thebattle, but has won the war.

What to Write About?

2011-03-30T22:48:00.008-05:00

I read some blogs pretty faithfully, and I have to admit I don't know how they do it. Day after day, sometimes several posts a day. And these aren't 140 character tweets either.

Some of these bloggers give detailed narratives on Caring Bridge sites, detailing everything from the emotional trauma of a debilitating injury or disease, or recording the minutiae of every procedure.

One blog I read resembles a systematic theology primer slash apologetic--each point of doctrine argued with a determined certainty. You are either explicitly or implicitly made to feel that if you don't agree with what is written, one's salvation is to be questioned. It makes me think that I might enter heaven patting down the flames on the seat of my pants. (I Corinthians 3:15)

Religion. Politics. The Human Condition. Page after page. Day after day. I am in awe of where they get their material. My life is not that interesting, I guess.

I would love to be that writer, and in some ways I am, pushing out two 1400 word sermon manuscripts a week.

I think what it comes down to is that I have plenty to say, but I shouldn't say it. Much of what I'd write about would be about the people I come across in my work.

I could write about the homeless guy who came into church this past Sunday at 8:30 AM wanting to talk about why he lost his job and why tsunamis happen in Japan. I could write about that.

I can't write about people in my church, family, or colleagues. Even without names, people connect the dots and confidentiality is breached and trust is lost.

I think that it should be in a pastor's contract that each member of the church needs to sign a waiver, releasing the pastor from all responsibility if he uses them as a sermon illustration, or maybe worse, fodder for a blog post. If you don't want me to write about you, stay out of trouble.

That said, it's a weird job. Either people tell me a lot, but expect that I repeat none of it, or they don't tell me anything and expect me to know every detail of an event that has occurred in their life.

It's been a day. I didn't think I had anything to write about, and maybe, at this point, you agree with me.

Another day.

Poem to Ponder

2010-12-07T13:12:00.001-06:00

As a former kid and current parent with kids--this poem struck a nerve. Culled this from the Writer's Almanac.

Sins of the Father

by W.D. Ehrhart

Today my child came home from school in tears.
A classmate taunted her about her clothes,
and the other kids joined in, enough of them
to make her feel as if the fault was hers,
as if she can't fit in no matter what.
A decent child, lovely, bright, considerate.
It breaks my heart. It makes me want someone
to pay. It makes me think—O Christ, it makes
me think of things I haven't thought about
in years. How we nicknamed Barbara Hoffman
"Barn," walked behind her through the halls and mooed
like cows. We kept this up for years, and not
for any reason I could tell you now
or even then except that it was fun.
Or seemed like fun. The nights that Barbara
must have cried herself to sleep, the days
she must have dreaded getting up for school.
Or Suzanne Heider. We called her "Spider."
And we were certain Gareth Schultz was queer
and let him know it. Now there's nothing I
can do but stand outside my daughter's door
listening to her cry herself to sleep.

Worry....

2010-11-11T16:45:00.001-06:00

James Bryan Smith says in his book, The Good and the Beautiful Life, that the definition of worry is a “disproportionate level of concern based on an inappropriate measure of fear.”

I am preparing to write a sermon on Matthew 6:25-34, I read Jesus words in the concluding verse.

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

“Do not worry...” I admit, I worry sometimes about how much I have in me to continue the work I do. My deficiencies are glaring to me, and I assume, to others. To name those weaknesses, well, none of us likes to do that. It is not my intent to write a confessional. I am simply being honest in saying that I feel a little empty right now. Out of gas. Tapped out. Malaise is the word of the day.

Perhaps you can help me think about the worries you experience in your life. I am not asking you to write a personal confessional, either. Instead, think about what keeps you from worry, or at least, from worrying more than you do.

How do you understand Jesus when he says, “But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” ?

I promise not to worry about tomorrow if you won’t.

Rest.

2010-04-29T14:45:00.001-05:00

The fear of the Lord leads to life. Then one rests content, untouched by trouble.

--Proverbs 19:21

The Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change;

courage to change the things I can;

and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;

Enjoying one moment at a time;

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;

Taking, as He did, this sinful world

as it is, not as I would have it;

Trusting that He will make all things right

if I surrender to His Will;

That I may be reasonably happy in this life

and supremely happy with Him

Forever in the next.

Amen.

--Reinhold Niebuhr

Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.

--Psalm 27:14

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,

for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.

For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

--Matthew 11:28-30

It’s the month of May. That should be explanation enough for why I have included the scripture and prayer I’ve included in this article. Life is busy and doesn’t show any signs of letting up any time soon. In speaking with many of you and observing my own family and my life, I know that all of us need to reminded of these words.

As you read this, take a moment and ask yourselves the following questions: Am I at peace? If I am, what do I attribute this peace to? Am I restless? What about? Should I be restless? Where can I find rest? Where will I find rest?

In faith, be at peace. Receive it from Jesus Christ.

“Peace, I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives.

Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

--John 14:27

Expectations for God

2010-02-10T16:05:00.003-06:00

Did some reflection Psalm 91 today with some fellow pastors. We are using the Psalms as Lenten texts for this season using a series put together by Prof. Carl Bosma of Calvin Seminary.

For the preachers among us, our group generally uses the "Four Pages" method suggested by Paul Scott Wilson's Book, "The Four Pages of a Sermon: A Guide to Biblical Preaching" as a rubric to help get the discussion started.

One of the "problems" that one of the pastors suggested is that when we encounter the text is that we sometimes have "unrealistic expectations of God" in regards to the potential troubles of life.

I wonder,is it unrealistic to have high expectations of God?

Personally, I don't want to have low expectations of God. I expect healing, safety, and protection. Yet, there are times I do realize that I won't receive it. When this happens, I don't automatically think God has failed me or my expectations. Instead, I am confronted with a new issue--God's will. The question isn't whether God has the power to heal, protect, or save. The question is how does my experience or life fit within his greater will and plan?

Where then is the comfort or grace in this text? I have some more study to do, but unless I find some more surprises, I think the answer is found that our lives have meaning beyond the grave. We are protected from eternal death. We are spared and saved from eternal injury. We are rescued by Jesus Christ. We are, as the Psalm says, "shown salvation."

Eternal comfort. Sounds good to me. However, today I am healthy and well. I don't want "health and wealth" bullarkey (my new word for the day), but I want Psalm 91 to mean something when I have a checkup at the doctor or when I prepare to leave on a long trip. I don't want to have low expectations for God's protection today.

Still wrestling with that.

Peter Fish

2009-12-03T11:22:00.003-06:00

Just a brief note from my long ignored blog. At the church I serve, we collected "Peter Fish" coin banks from the kids at church. The proceeds were donated to the cause of world hunger.

On Thanksgiving morning, we found this on the table in the Council room.

Pretty cool. $641 from one Peter Fish. That's a trophy fish!

Peace

2009-10-09T15:26:00.001-05:00

I turned on the news today and found out that President Obama was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. My reaction, along with many in the United States and the world, was of surprise. Some strongly disagree with this choice simply because of the President’s political affiliation or his policies. Most reactions, including my own, came from the fact that Mr. Obama’s administration hasn’t yet achieved much measurable success in terms of making or keeping peace. As the story continued to develop, many supposed that the committee that chose Mr. Obama for the award considered his potential to be a peacemaker on the world stage.

To be clear, I have neither insight nor a strong opinion about whether this award was appropriate at this time. However, in reflection, it did confirm and affirm to me one central truth—there will be no true peace unless it comes by the hands of the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6)

Jesus, after his arrest and he was presented to Pilate, gave us these familiar words to think about, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place.” (John 18:36) For “now,” our Lord’s kingdom is not of this world, but it won’t always be that way. The Prince of Peace will come again and rule in a way that befits his title. Christ’s was inaugurated as King on this earth when He overcame death on the cross, but His kingdom has not yet fully come.

In the meantime, God’s Word calls us to live in the tension that we are currently citizens in two kingdoms. We are reminded to “store up our treasures in Heaven,” (Matthew 6:20) but also to be salt and light in this world (Matthew 5:13-16).

I think this dual-citizenship should challenge us as we respond to the issues that concern us as we continue life in the United States. Living a life as a disciple of Jesus is hard. We must reject the things that embody the godless immorality of our day, but also beware of those who look out for their own self-interests by disguising their selfishness with words baptized in religious language. I ponder Jesus’ words as he sent the disciples out for ministry, telling them, “I am sending you out like sheep among wolves. Therefore, be shrewd as snakes and innocent as doves.” (Matthew 10:16)

Don’t settle for the party line. Don’t listen to the pundits and talk show hosts without a critical ear. Too often we let these voices form our opinions and then we ask God to jump on board with what we think. Instead, be a people of prayer. Be a people of God’s Word. Start at these points and then form your opinions. Pray to the Prince of Peace for his kingdom to fully come. With Paul may we say, “I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:14)

Black Hills 2009

2009-07-02T11:19:00.006-05:00

Here are some of the pictures I took of our family's trip out to the Black Hills. Good times.

No Memoirs for Me.

2009-06-29T23:14:00.008-05:00

Had an interesting conversation with my wife the other day. We talked about how neither one of us could become published poets or novelists. Paraphrasing our thoughts, we concluded that successful writers are able to bare their souls about the most personal of details--the secrets we keep to ourselves.

Some of the details we keep hidden are about ourselves--our doubts, our insecurities, our vanities, and etc. We'd also like to write about the people in our lives--the foibles that make us laugh, the behaviors that frustrate us, the characteristics or actions we deeply admire. Yet, to put these things to print or pixel would be dangerous, I think.

It seems that writers or poets who put their work "out there" are willing to take a risk that their readers won't like what they see. Certainly, there is an evaluation of the artistic merit of whatever is written, but I'm not talking about that. Writers sometimes give details about their own lives or about the easily recognized details of the lives of others. And, of course, those details are often less than flattering.

As a preacher, I've heard and often lived by the motto that the best illustrations contained in sermons contain details about the people who were at your previous church. Even the people where I am at now are colorful enough, I could never mention some of the things I witness for fear that from week to week, heads would swivel up and down the aisle with people wondering, "Who's the pastor speaking about this week?" I could write more about this, but some people reading this would know I am talking about them...

That said, I've found it interesting that people sometimes approach me after a service and comment, "You were talking directly to me today," or something to that effect. The interesting thing is that when I write sermons, I am usually writing them for myself. Sermons are essentially a confessional work for me. I share what I believe, or, speaking honestly, what I want to believe. For someone to say that this or that sermon "was for them," is simply an affirmation that I am not the only one out there who has questions about God.

There were times, especially early on in ministry, when I approached the pulpit like a hammer looking for nails. Those are times I care not to repeat. It doesn't keep me from wanting to do it sometimes, though. The bully pulpit has some instant gratification, but in the long term, it just creates more messes. In my experience, venting my frustration on Sunday mornings can sometime be like stomping on something a dog leaves behind. The stink is immediate, and unfortunately, it lingers far longer than you ever wished it would.

I draw no conclusions other than my first thought--I don't think I could ever be a published writer. I don't think I have the spine for it--or else, in my point of view, you could say that I love my family too much and would like to keep my friendships. Sometimes being a pastor is lonely enough. I don't need people to start avoiding me out of the worry that they are going to be fodder for some short story or doggerel that I attempt.

Yet, I end up with the thought that I am deceiving myself somewhat. I write these thoughts with the expectation that at least a few other people will read them. However guarded I might be about the details of life doesn't seem to mean that I don't want people to read what I say. So, maybe I want to be writer after all...but just a cowardly one.

Pictures of D.C. 2009

2009-06-09T20:55:00.001-05:00

The other link messed up the format of the blog, so I had to go to a smaller size. Here's 350+ photos if you have the time.

Day 6 of D.C.

2009-06-09T15:29:00.003-05:00

Sunday, June 7.

We began the day by sleeping in a bit and then traveling to the Washington D.C. CRC. We took the Metro north to Ft. Totten station where we caught the K6 bus to the church. We are neophytes to the art of bus transit. Getting on the bus--easy. Getting off the bus, a little help needed. We got on the right bus--exact change, no problem. I grew in confidence as we made our way towards the church. The street we needed to get off came on the screen--no hassles so far. We approached the street. I started to shift my weight to stand, and then the bus kept going and didn't stop. One block past, now two.... "Hey, umm, stop!" No one told us about the yellow cord along the window that you pull to request to get off the bus. Leah figured it out before I did, but the kindly fellow across the aisle saw our distress before she got to the cable. Thankfully he pulled the cord and the bus slowed to a stop about three blocks past where we needed to be.

We weren't very late to church and we enjoyed the fellowship after the service. I was approached after the service by an elderly woman who introduced herself as being from Hull originally. Her first name escapes me now, but she said that she was originally a Pals (now Monsma) and lived a couple blocks from what was then, Western Christian Academy. She attended Calvin College and then moved to D.C. in the 1940's. Now 91, she is a charter member of the Washington D.C. CRC. Graciously, we were spared more bus embarrassment by getting a ride back to the Ft. Totten Metro station and we headed back to the middle of the city.

We stopped briefly at home to change and then headed to Dupont Circle for some lunch. We also took a walk through the neighborhood which contains Embassy Row.

From there, we traveled to Arlington. For the girls, it was just a long walk, I think. For me, walking through that large cemetery was humbling. Thousands and thousands of tombstones of those killed in war or those who survived and are honored by being buried in this National Cemetery. We stopped at John F. Kennedy's gravesite and then made our way to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier to witness the changing of the guard. Heels click in unison. Expressions are grim and stoic. I tried to count silently to 21--anticipating the steps and the moves of the guards.
The guard's rifle clacks when it slaps into the guards hand. Each move of the sergeant at arms is precise, almost mechanical.

I would like to have stayed longer, but the girls had seen enough. I think in their youth, cemeteries are lost on them. They have a lot more living to do.

We headed back into the city and went to a restaurant named Luigis. This had to be one of the best meals that we had during our trip. We had a whole range of Italian food that we could have ordered, but we kept it simple. Pizza. Fantastic pizza. We copied a combination that we like to have at home. It has a Mediterranean feel to it: grilled chicken, feta cheese, artichoke hearts, tomatoes, and Greek olives. Oh my. I can still taste it.

We walked for a while after dinner, and made it to the White House again. I snapped a few more pictures and then we walked down to the Mall one last time. We enjoyed seeing the monuments illuminated at night. When we tired of walking, we hopped on the Metro for our final ride home.

Monday morning came. Time to leave. I went for one final run. It is a little strange to think that one can run beside the Capitol building in the AM and then 12 hours later be driving through the farmland of NW Iowa.

Day 5 of DC

2009-06-09T14:42:00.008-05:00

Back on home turf. It is good to be back in Siouxland, but our visit to DC will for years be a rich experience in our family.

Pictures pending--I thought I'd take a moment to recap the final two days of our visit.

Saturday, June 6, was spent in and around the Mall, with a walk to the Jefferson Memorial later in the day.

I began the morning with a run. I've enjoyed running in D.C. It's certainly a different experience than running in Iowa. Not only is the scenery much different, but each block brings another corner, another stoplight to beat or direction to change, and a sidewalk to share with many other people (and dogs).

I made it a little past the Capitol that morning. The Mall was filled with people who had come for the Susan Komen Race for the Cure 5K run. There were thousands there. I don't know the route of the race, but it had to be shoulder to shoulder running for average to slow runners like myself. After thinking better of trying to jog through the masses, I turned back and ended up finishing my run criss-crossing through the blocks near our home for the week.

As a family, we headed up to the Mall a little before noon. We decided to start at the National Archives, where original copies of the Declaration of Independence, Bill of Rights, and the Constitution are stored. Those are only a few of many millions (billions?) of documents stored there for posterity. The original documents are extremely faded. Sealed in a elaborate case to control light and atmosphere, the documents are for the most part illegible in the light of the display room. The bold, large print is still readable, along with the famous signature of John Hancock.

After the Archives, we went to satisfy our growling stomachs. We had done some reading before our trip and had heard about the Mitsitam Cafe in the National Museum of the American Indian.

The cafe serves a variety of native foods from all different parts of the Americas--including South America. I had steamed mussels from the the Pacific Northwest, turtle soup from the Northern Woodlands (East Coast, and a lima bean salad from Peru. The girls had fry-bread/Indian tacos from the Plains, and Leah had honey-cured duck and wild rice and honeycress salad from the Northern Woodlands. Leah said the duck was great--she apologized that she didn't share because it was so good. This was evidenced by the well picked over bones on her plate. When I sat down with the steamed mussels, the girls were intrigued with the shells, but that was countered by the strong, fishy smell that came from the bowl. Novelty wears out quickly, apparently.

From there we went to the Museum of Natural History. Leah wanted to see the Hope diamond. She is still disappointed that this wasn't the diamond I purchased for our engagement. The museum was packed with people. We were a little claustrophobic. It was a Saturday and school groups were replaced with families of all shapes and sizes. It was also the first day since Wednesday that we didn't have rain, so there were a lot of people out and about. The day was gorgeous. So, we didn't stay long. To be honest, it is my opinion the Field Museum in Chicago is better. Maybe we didn't stay long enough, but I had a little of the, "been there, done that," feeling.

Since we started a little later in the day and had a late lunch, we took a break by the fountain at the National Sculpture Gallery and then decided to make the long walk over the Jefferson Memorial. The memorial is a little out of the way from the other monuments, so we found it to be a little less crowded. There was a light breeze and temperature was in the low 70's so the walking was easy. Other than the meal at the Mitsitam the Jefferson Memorial was highlight of my day.

We finished the day with a short ride home on the Metro and fixed up a light supper in our apartment--omelettes with prosciutto and cheddar cheese with a side of garden peas. A good end to a great day.

Day 4 of D.C.

2009-06-05T21:45:00.004-05:00

Another day completed.

Destinations for the Day: The Supreme Court, Library of Congress, Capitol Building, Botanical Gardens, and a short outing to a jazz concert.

We have been in the habit this vacation of asking each family member what has been the "best part" and "worst part" of the day.

This is Lindsey's summary. Worst part: falling down in a puddle. She took care of this feat first thing this morning. This was the second day of rain we had here, so while walking to the Supreme Court, I think she was more interested in her umbrella than making sure one foot was in front of the other.

The rest of the day for Lindsey was something like this: Botanical Gardens were the best by far. (She liked the plants and we ate lunch there.) The Supreme Court was just a building full of heads (i.e. busts of former justices of the court) and lectures. The Library of Congress was bad because all the books were locked up in a box. (i.e. the 6,000+ book collection of Thomas Jefferson, encased in glass.) All she remembered from the Capitol was that a man tried to shoot the president, but the president beat him up (i.e. an assassination attempt on Andrew Jackson).

The tour of the Capitol was a highlight for me. Once again, the architecture and history of the building is impressive. We were given a tour by an intern in Sen. Charles Grassley's office. I highly recommend anyone visiting D.C. to call their senator or representative to arrange a tour. It was much better than anything the visitor's center at the Capitol offers. It was our family plus three more people. So, we got to hear everything the intern said, and we didn't feel like such a herd going through the tour. Also, we were able to take the private underground subway/train from the congressional office building to the Capitol building.

We came home a little early to relax and then we made our Eastern Market meal--prosciutto, parmesan, field peas, and spinach fettucine noodles, topped off with some cantaloupe for dessert.

In the evening, we walked through the rain to the National Gallery of the Arts where we heard a group from Howard University--Afro Blue. Great a cappella jazz.

Tomorrow, we are headed to the Nat'l Archives, Museum of Natural History, and....we're not quite sure yet. If the kids can stomach another art museum, we are probably headed to the Nat'l Gallery of Art.

Also, we're looking forward to sunshine tomorrow. We've had nice rains, but if asked, I prefer it on my garden, and not on my vacation. (I'm not expecting to be asked, but the forecast does sound a little more tourist friendly.)

Day 3 of D.C.

2009-06-04T20:22:00.004-05:00

Coming to the close of Day 3, I think I can say that this was my favorite day so far. We made a tour of the memorials down on the Mall. We took the Metro as far as we could, then walked the rest of the way to the Lincoln Memorial. When asked, Emily said her least favorite part of the day was avoiding all the goose poop along the reflecting pool.

You really don't have a grasp on the size of this monument until you're directly in front of it. As Lincoln reclines in that big chair within the monument, Leah and I agreed that it brings to mind what the ancient Greek and Roman temples must have resembled.

We then visited the Korean War and Vietnam War memorials which sit on opposite sides of the Lincoln Memorial. I walked away from those memorials very humbled. The haggard, war-worn faces that were sculpted onto the statues of soldiers on patrol at the Korean Memorial give this place its power. Across the reflecting pool, name upon name engraved on stone at the Vietnam Memorial make me think of all the families that still miss a son or a daughter that never came back home.

This stands in contrast to the immense W.W. II Memorial. This place is big and expansive, and in my opinion, a bit sterile. This memorial doesn't speak of loss of life, it speaks of victory. It is a victor's memorial. It doesn't bear the heaviness of the other war memorials even though thousands more were killed.

Up the hill we went to the Washington Memorial. We had a brief pause as Emily and Lindsey said hello to Stonewall the Park Service patrol horse. He and his fellow officer were riding around the grounds making sure all was secure.

After a brief wait, up the Washington Memorial we went. We were treated to an excellent 360 degree view of the city.

Then, it was a to the American History Museum: Abe Lincoln's hat, George Washington's sword, the real Star Spangled Banner, and many more iconic items from our history. A great afternoon which I don't have enough time or patience to write about entirely. Glad I took pictures.

Another trip on the Metro where we stopped at Sanphan Thai restaurant. Crispy Duck, Chu Chi Shrimp, Thai Noodles--dinner goodness. We closed off the evening by stopping for more supplies at Eastern Market. Gruyere cheese, prosciutto bacon, field peas, all great things that we just can't get at home. It will make for a good supper tomorrow night.

Tomorrow, the Capitol Building.

D.C. Day 3

2009-06-03T19:46:00.002-05:00

Another day done in D.C. The day ended early due to some thundershowers in the area. Hope some of this passed through Iowa on its way here.

Most of the day was great, though. We headed out this morning to our appointment to the White House. There were no unexpected cancellations, thankfully. We were warned that all appointments could be scheduled at a moments notice.

We arrived early via the Metro and spent a little time in the White House Visitor's center. About thirty minutes before our appointment, we showed up on the White House grounds. After a quick check of our I.D.'s and a check of our names on the itinerary, we were admitted into the White House. Our first stop was to security where we went through a metal detector. I would describe security here as "airport lite." Bags go through a scanning device or are given a quick look-through, but the due to the volume of crowds, everything is given nothing more than a cursory look. However, at the White House, we were not permitted to take any bags, cameras, pens, or anything else that could remotely be dangerous. So, no pictures of the White House yet. Perhaps later this week.

After the White House, we headed home for lunch. It's been great not having to pay for meals all the time. Fresh bread, good cheese, and fruit were on the lunch time menu. After lunch we headed out again. We thought about the International Spy Museum, but we found out that admission would have cost us over $60. Since there is so much to do around here for free, we decided to save our money and walk over to the Museum of American Art. The most interesting parts of the visit for me was an informational tour on the conservation (not restoration, we learned) of paintings. Later on, I especially enjoyed the gallery of the portraits of the American presidents. Many of the portraits of our presidents that we are familiar with are part of this display. Great to see up close.

Brian Williams from NBC has been doing a report from the White House. This has been fascinating since we have seen these things up close. Once again, its one of those existential moments where all the things that we have seen for years on the t.v. is now only a few miles, or sometimes, a few yards a way. Of course, a few yards away here, could just as well be hundreds of miles away with all the security around.

Tomorrow, more rain is forecast, but there are plenty of museums to still see. We have an appointment at the Washington Monument to keep as well.

Day 2 of D.C.

2009-06-02T21:43:00.004-05:00

Doubling up today. I had planned to update yesterday, but I had problem establishing an internet connection. With some help from our hosts, all has been straightened out.

Today was a full one. We slept in a bit after our long day yesterday. After getting out bed, I laced up my running shoes and with GPS in hand (always handy for the directionally challenged) went out for a run. Zig-zagging along the streets, I made my way past the Capitol building and down to the mall. It was around 9:30 AM and there were several tour buses unloading kids in brightly colored t-shirts, all getting ready for their tour of all things Washington D.C. If any of you who read this are runners, you will be able to relate to the joy of having new scenery to see to distract you from the putting of one foot in front of the other. I had one of those existential moments when looking at the scenery, I came up with the wondrous realization, "Holy crap! I am running past the Capitol building of the U.S.!" Brilliant and insightful, don't you think?

After I returned back for a shower and a little breakfast, we took off for our day's visit. We purchased our week passes for the Metro and negotiated the public transit to the Smithsonian. We started at the "Castle," and were greeted with some familiar props and displays from the movie, "Night at the Museum 2."

From there we went to the Air & Space Museum. We had an appointment to keep at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing to keep in the afternoon, so we had to keep moving. We were a little rushed through the museum, but we stopped for the things we wanted to see. It's fascinating for me to see firsthand many of the artifacts of our cultural history just a few feet away. By they way, as you will see from the slideshow below, poor Able the monkey doesn't look nearly so happy and chipper as he did in the "Night at the Museum," movie.

After the Air and Space museum, we headed to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. No photos allowed, other than what was in the display area. The presses, sorters, and packagers were for eyes only, no cameras permitted. As we peered down from the viewing balcony, one fellow held up a sign, in what must have been a well-rehearsed display. Handwritten, on a piece of cardboard, the sign said, "We're blue-collar workers, but we have made more money than Bill Gates ever has.

We finished up by taking the Metro to the Eastern Market for some fresh groceries. We ate well tonight--we cooked up fresh, tomato basil pasta, some mild Carolina loose sausage, and finished it off with a putanesque sauce. Delicious. We bought some yogurt peanuts and dried fruit to snack on tomorrow. Fresh bread and some good cheese for sandwiches as well. Good eats.

Good day and a great time so far. Tomorrow the White House. Once again, no pictures allowed, but the girls are holding out hopes that Sasha and Malia, the President's daughters, will invite them over to play. We shall see.

Capitol Wanderings

2009-06-02T21:22:00.002-05:00

Zuidema vacation 2009. It's the "history" vacation this year--Washington D.C. This is a change of pace from what has been or the past two years, the "mountains, and get back to nature" vacation.

We left for Omaha on Sunday night after church. We stayed in a hotel so we wouldn't have to get ourselves and the kids up at o'dark thirty in the AM. Our trip was uneventful and we got a good night's sleep before our journey via the airways.

Thankfully, the flights all went well--no delays and our luggage followed us to D.C. The girls enjoyed the flying, especially the take-offs and landings.

After our arrival in Baltimore, we were "Super Shuttled" to our home for the week--a basement apartment about a mile from the Capitol building. We met our host, settled in for a bit, and then took a walk to a local Indian restaurant that was in the neighborhood--The White Tiger. We crossed the road to a small market to gather some groceries. After dropping them off at home, we finished the day by taking a little jaunt to the Capitol. Quite impressive by night. A great start for the week.

Sacramental Mistake

2009-04-10T14:49:00.003-05:00

I would have loved to have heard the conversation the boy had with his parents when he got home last night.

His sister probably laughed out loud, a laugh that matched the highly amused grin that filled her face when she saw that her brother had snatched the bread, dipped it in the cup and received the sacrament. His brothers probably shook their heads and rolled their eyes. Yet, I wonder if they thought to themselves, "What was it like?"

We celebrated our Maundy Thursday service last night. As part of the service, we celebrated the Lord's Supper, commemorating that last meal Jesus had with his disciples in the Upper Room. As part of that celebration, I had baked loaves of bread and cut them into pieces. Two large cups were filled with grape juice--not wine anymore, I'm afraid.

When it came to share the elements, we asked the people to come forward and receive the sacrament. Intinction is the phrase we use for this method. I like this practice because it gets the people physically involved, there is something about getting up and going to receive rather than sitting in a pew and waiting for the trays of thimble-full glasses and the little pieces of Wonderbread to make the rounds. A pastor colleague of mine has called the practice of intinction, "rip and dip." It's a pretty accurate description, but I don't think I'm going to use that one in church any time soon.

Anyhow, the line moves through fairly quickly. I am holding the cup. "The blood of Christ for you," I repeat over and over, making eye contact with all who go through the line. Then comes this boy of 12 or 13 up to the front with his family. In our church, children don't receive the sacrament until they've publicly professed their faith, but they were invited to come forward to receive the blessing, "Jesus died for you." The boy must have been watching closely what was going on in front of him, because he knew what to do. Only when the bread touched his tongue and his sister grabbed his shoulders did he have any realization that he was breaking any rules.

The "rules" part of me thought to say, "No," but my desire to see a faith nourished kept me silent. I didn't want the pastor to add to any embarrassment. I grinned, and we moved on without a pause. Soon followed a woman who eagerly grasped the bread and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes then darted to the cup and then to her empty fingers. Her eyes widened and I saw a little flicker of panic as she processed what had happened. Her hand darted to the basket again and another piece of bread in hand, she dipped it into the cup. She wasn't going to be denied either. A double portion of the body of Christ wouldn't be too much.

These little events that happen in ministry are memorable. I think they speak to some of the greater truths of scripture. There is something to coming to the table hungry for grace. I'm glad the boy participated. I'm glad the woman came back for the second piece of bread. I have faith that the sacrament wasn't wasted on either of them. I think the "means of grace" that Calvinists associate with the sacraments were in full effect last night.

Take. Eat. Drink. Remember. Believe.

This is a Test...test 2

2009-04-04T14:26:00.001-05:00

I am testing how this posts to my blog formatted from MS Word.

For your inner carnivore, I bring to you..."BACON EXPLOSION!"

2009-02-06T17:29:00.002-06:00

I came across this on YouTube today. I actually took this recipe home with me from Michigan. It was published in this past Sunday's New York Times. My arteries are hardening and narrowing just looking at this. Looks good though. Real good.

Worship Symposium

2009-02-06T17:21:00.003-06:00

O.K., I'm back from Michigan and the Worship Symposium....It was fantastic! We were greeted by a lot of snow, (so glad we flew) but everything else went very smoothly.

The worship services themselves were well worth the registration fee. The sessions were great as well. It was good to be back on Calvin's campus again, too.

If you are at all involved in worship at your churches, I would highly recommend this to all of you. Save the last weekend of January on your calendars. Some of the folks on the pictures: Craig Barnes, Dennis Dewey, Marva Dawn, Frank Thomas (not the baseball player), Luke A. Powery, and a cast of thousands...

Blogging from my phone...

2009-01-29T13:43:00.000-06:00

It's been awhile since I've written, so I thought I'd check in.

I'm here in Grand Rapids attending the Calvin Symposium on Worship. I've been listening to Craig Barnes today who is talking about preaching the parables. The worship service this morning was spiritually engaging. The people from my church who came along are excited and enjoying what they are seeing and that is excitng to me.

It's refreshing to be doing some recharging this week. Good for the mind and good for the spirit.

Waterproof...

2009-01-20T21:50:00.004-06:00

Today, I feel waterproof.

I've been reading the memoir of Barbara Brown Taylor, "Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith," (HarperSanFrancisco) and I found myself in the final pages of Chapter 9.

Brown narrates her journey from a being a religious seeker, or an "ecclesiastical harlot," as a priest called her, to her ordination as a priest in the Episcopal Church. Brown-Taylor writes elegantly. Having gone to see her speak several times, I think her appearance matches her prose. She is a tall woman, silver hair perfectly matched to her black clerical shirt and stiff white collar.

She doesn't wear the black shirt or the collar anymore, though. After fifteen years of ministry and serving two parishes, she was exhausted, emotionally and spiritually drained. She left the priesthood and she accepted a teaching position at a college close to the church she was serving at the time.

Chapter 9 of her book records her descent into depression and her quick escape from parish ministry. At the end of the chapter, she writes about being invited to a large pool party hosted by one of her former congregants. During the evening, she wanders past the pool where a number of children are splashing and playing. Suddenly, a fully clothed adult lands in the water, voluntarily or involuntarily, we don't know. Soon, chaos. People all around her are being grabbed and thrown into the water.

Brown-Taylor writes, "Several people hunting for victims turned toward me, their faces lit with smiles. When they saw who I was they turned away again so that I felt sad instead of glad. Whatever changes were occurring inside of me, I still looked waterproof to them."

I may have taken a long time to get to the point, but that's how I feel today--waterproof. I can't give too many details, because then I'll have said too much. Suffice it to say, I experienced one of those times in ministry where the people who normally want you to meet them where they are in life, now realize that you're too close and they're embarrassed or maybe angry that you've seen a part of them they didn't what seen. (Am I being too obscure???)

Anyhow, I find myself caught. I'm not caught in a crisis of calling where I am looking to escape my work as a pastor. However, I do mourn the fact that as a pastor, there are many areas of life where people will hold me at arm's length. I am welcome in their homes after a surgery or a time of grief and I am expected to provide that word or expression that gives comfort or hope. Yet in social gatherings, often conversation can be superficial. People don't want their pastor to know too much, or just as frightening, they don't want to know too much about their pastor.

I'm waterproof.

Taylor-Brown found redemption when someone grabbed her from behind and threw her in the pool. She writes, "I looked around at all of those shining people with makeup running down their cheeks, with hair plastered to their heads, and I was so happy to be one of them. If being ordained meant being set apart from them I did not want to be ordained anymore. I wanted to be human. I wanted to spit food and let snot run down my chin. I wanted to confess being as lost and found as anyone else without caring that my underwear showed through my wet clothes."

I'm ordained. With that ordination, I know that as long as I have that "Rev." in front of my name or people call me, "Pastor," I will always be set apart to some degree. Waterproof. I accept that for now. Thankfully, my wife and family are all too aware of my humanity.

I could write more, but I think I'll stop here. Like I wrote earlier, to say more, is to say too much. In the meantime, I'm going to roll up my pants and wade in the shallow end for a while. Scandalous!

Mountain, shmountain...

2009-01-18T21:57:00.005-06:00

I have this relative of mine who lives out west and enjoys the scenery by hiking here, skiing there, and biking everywhere. We love to visit him, his wife, and son (and dog), but just so you know, we've got some of the great outdoors here, too.

I've posted some pictures of my great outdoor adventures, too. Out here in the flatlands, we don't burden God with creating our entertainment, we just wait for a diesel payloader to do it for us.

Lindsey and I had a good time this Sunday afternoon playing around outside. The weather was beautiful. Temperatures hovered around 30 degrees--a veritable heat wave--and we had clear skies--a beautiful blue as you will see from the snapshots.

So, with the panorama of Hull as a backdrop, I bask in the schadenfreude that will come when my Mile High relative looks with envy and longing at the grandeur of yon snowpile.

Enjoy.

Christmas lights...

2009-01-06T23:26:00.003-06:00

O.K., there tree is down, safely packed in a box and hauled down to the basement. (We went from the "real thing" to artificial a few years ago after our cats kept scattering needles all over the house and drinking all the water in the pan underneath the tree.) Ornaments are arranged in their boxes and the inside of the house is in post-Christmas, non-Advent mode.

I still have my Christmas lights on outside. Is there a Miss Manners to tell me when I should take them down? I guess I feel if I go to the work of hanging them, is four weeks really long enough to leave them up? Also, January is such a dreary month. I think leaving my lights up brings a little cheer to the otherwise bleak evenings.

How long can I leave them up and not be called 1)strange, because I have lights up when it's not the Christmas season, or 2) lazy, because it's January, so take them down already.

Granted, my light display is pretty modest. (The picture I posted is not my home. I put that in for effect.) I'm guessing I could have them taken down and put away in a half hour or so, but do I want to?

For the three or four of you who stumble upon this while trying to visit someplace else on the internet, do you have any opinions?

Airhog!

2009-01-03T13:58:00.001-06:00

Airhog 2008 from Todd Z. on Vimeo.

No harm, no foul.

Video of Christmas Eve 2008

2009-01-03T13:37:00.001-06:00

Christmas Eve 2008 from Todd Z. on Vimeo.

If this doesn't link to Facebook, you can see the video at www.threeoclockcoffee.blogspot.com

Christmas 2008

2009-01-03T12:23:00.003-06:00

Here are some pictures from the past couple weeks. I will upload a couple videos a little later.

Writer's block

2008-12-31T14:07:00.004-06:00

It's a New Year tomorrow. Church in the AM. Let's be honest. People will be tired from staying up last night. And, I can't mention it tomorrow, but um, many of the guys (and gals???) will want church done on time--football game is on t.v. So, preacher, be thought provoking, inspirational, Spirit-filled, and....brief.

Resolutions...

2008-12-30T16:34:00.003-06:00

A good-sized part of my job is writing.

I don't bear any illusions about quality of my writing, other than I know its serviceable. At least there are times when I finish a sermon or an article, I'm pleased and excited to share it with others.

I would like this to be a place where I can write--sometimes seriously, sometimes nonsense, sometimes fun, just to keep in the practice of writing. So, my resolution for this New Year is to keep writing, and be disciplined about it.
That's all I have for write now, but its a start.

Fall Program 2008

2008-11-22T15:30:00.002-06:00

Here's a video I mashed together of some pics and video of Lindsey and Emily's Fall Program.

2008 Fall Program from Todd Z. on Vimeo.

I still see them...

2008-09-19T13:09:00.009-05:00

Here is an article that I wrote for the newsletter of the Romanian Evangelistic Medical Mission (REMM). I traveled there with a medical team from Pella (including my parents) this past June.

It has been said that the eyes are windows that let you gaze into a person’s soul. That’s why of all the pictures I took during my trip to

Romania

, I always return to this one.

The picture first draws us in to see the eyes that match the smiles of two friends eager to have their pictures taken. I snapped this photo while participating with a medical team based out of Pella, Iowa.

During our two weeks in Romania, we traveled to outlying villages to set up clinics, providing those who came with a one on one consultation with a physician. If possible, they were also able to receive prescription medication, multi-vitamins, and other basics to address a variety of health issues.

Look at the picture closer. Do you see the eyes of the young girl in the background? Her face, her eyes, especially, are imprinted in my memory. She was at the clinic we had in the Gypsy/Roma settlement on the outskirts of the village of Tinca.

She waited all day. I never saw her smile. I didn’t see her playing with the other children. I didn’t see a mother or a father watching out for her. It was just her, tangled and matted hair, with sticker tattoos on her neck that were darkened by grime and sweat. “Love,” printed on her t-shirt. Eyes that were distant, revealing a weariness beyond her years. Waiting.

What haunts me the most is that I don’t know if she ever saw the doctor. By the end of the day, we were all tired. The medications we had brought along were running low. We had seen many, many people, and we were ready to go home and rest. We hurried to finish and clean up, and I lost track of her in the busy-ness. So, I don’t know if she received the help she needed or the attention I am sure she wanted. I don’t have a picture of sparkling eyes or of her smile. I don’t have a happy ending to this story.

Medical missions are an important work of REMM. Please keep this ministry in your prayers. The medical needs, especially of those who live in more rural areas, are still great. Perhaps, some of you will consider traveling to Romania and participating with a medical team. My hope is that one of you will recognize this girl in Tinca and see her smile.

Just checking in...

2008-09-19T12:04:00.003-05:00

For the three of you that check this page, sorry for taking so long to post again. It's not as though I forgot. Just letting you know I'm still around and kicking and hope to post more soon. I can't believe that it's almost been two months.

What's gone on? Colorado vacation. Trip to Grand Rapids for a meeting. Birthdays. School starting again. And so on... Life goes on and we'll be in touch...

REMM Journal--#4

2008-07-24T10:11:00.004-05:00

Since it seems to take me at least a week between posts, this REMM Journal summary will continue for a while at least. I think I am going to combine a couple days here.

Monday & Tuesday, June 9-10.

Monday was a quiet day. We started our work at the clinic, but saw relatively few patients--13, I I think. I did some basic triage--blood pressure, pulse, and some basic health questions that outlined what the visitors wanted the doctor to address. The most interesting thing that happened was listening to the irregular heartbeat of a woman who came to the clinic. "Lub dub, lub dub.........dub, lub dub, lub............dub, lub dub, etc."

We continued to sort some medicines, and organized everything for our trip to Stei on Tuesday. In the afternoon, I went to the orphanage, Casa Josef, that is run by REMM. There I helped dismantle some of the play equipment that had become unsafe for the children to play on. The wood, over four year's time had rotted and become infested with termites. After that, we played with the girls in the orphanage for a bit and then walked home.

Taking down the playset.

Playtime at Casa Josef

All of the girls who stay at Casa Josef are of pre-school/kindergarten age and are of Gypsy/Roma heritage. I asked Anca, Peter and Ana Lucaciu's daughter, who is staying in Romania this summer with her son, Lucas, if these children would be taught or retain some of their heritage/language. In the U.S., we often hear that discussion in regard to bi-racial adoptions in the U.S. She replied that there really wasn't anything being done to make links with girls' Gypsy heritage. It wasn't considered to be important.

Pamela (Pami)

I struggle with that a bit. I understand that the Gypsy/Roma people have a reputation as being beggars, dishonest, and living on the good graces or misfortunes of others. Casa Josef exists because of the high number of abandoned children that come from the Roma people. On the other hand, as a Christian, I wonder how faith in Christ could transform hearts to him and redeem the good parts of their culture that I observed--colorful dress, beautiful language and music, among other things. I guess the most important thing is that these girls are safe, well-adjusted, and loved. I only wonder how many of them will seek their "roots" when they grow older, and how difficult it might be for them to find that they are looking for.

After supper, the evening was spent watching Romania play France in the Euro Cup Soccer/Football tournament. The match ended in a tie. I loved how the whole town seemed quiet and still, but when the home team scored a goal, voices and cheers echoed above fences and walls.

As for Tuesday, we traveled about 40 minutes to a small town called Stei. If I were to guess, Stei was about the size of Beius. We saw 60+ people. I worked triage once again. One of our translators for the day was Mihai (Mike) Inasel. He is 16, and is fluent in English, speaking with little to no discernible accent.

Pastor George and our help at Stei.

Mike at the headquarters for the Mountain Rescue Team

Mike is a climbing/caving enthusiast. Romania is renowned for its miles and miles of caves. Seeing my backpack and some of the gear I had along, he saw that I liked being outdoors as well. He peppered me with all types of questions about hiking and climbing. I don't have a lot of expertise, but we had a good time talking. He noticed my Nalgene bottle in my pack. He commented that he really wanted one, but that they were impossible to buy in Romania. I offered, but he wouldn't take mine. I will make arrangements for him to have one.

Dinner in Stei. Wow!

We had a fantastic meal of paprika/BBQ chicken, salad, mashed potatoes, and a treat that I loved, "placinta cu branza." It was a croissant type pastry with a mildly salty cheese woven into the pastry. Wow. I think I ate four.

During a break, Mike walked me through the town and showed me the headquarters of the Mountain Rescue Team that Mike belonged to. He is assisting this team, belongs to a climbing/caving club, and is training to be certified. I enjoyed getting to know Mike a little.

It was a good, busy day. Sleep will come easy tonight.

Getting old, and so is everyone else...

2008-07-15T10:13:00.004-05:00

Sometimes you like to convince yourself that your age is static and unchanging. You look in the mirror everyday and you really don't see any changes, so you deceive yourself into thinking that you look pretty much the same as you always have.

That is, until you go to your 20th high school class reunion. Nuts. I'm getting old. It's not that everyone looked decrepit or anything. The people that were there looked good, nary a wheel chair or walker to be seen. One qualifier, all of us there, with the exception of those who married spouses younger than us, were clinging to the relative youth of our 30's and in a short year or two, will be dragged kicking and screaming into middle age.

Seriously, we had a good time. High school seems both like it happened only yesterday, but that yesterday was a long time ago. I'd like to think we've grown up with growing older. I won't lie, some of the old grudges and tensions that occurred at PCHS 20 years ago were still there, just under the surface. Out of a class of 70 and change, there are bound to be some personality conflicts. Yet, for a few hours, we were mature enough to let the past be the past and be glad we could be together again.

Walking in the room, I saw faces that reminded me of words that I said and things that I did that I wish I could take back or erase, as easy as the delete key on my keyboard. I also remember the words and actions of others that hurt me, as well. Fortunately, graduation day comes and you can leave a lot of your false starts and regrets behind. You establish an identity that barely resembles who you tried or thought you wanted to be.

Cheers to the PCHS Class of '88. Be well, all. I hope to see many of you again down the road some day, at another reunion. We can share pictures of children, and good grief, some of us will have pictures of grandchildren. Holy crap. I'm old.

REMM Journal--#3

2008-07-10T11:11:00.008-05:00

Romania Trip, June 2008

(It's been a few days, but the journal continues...)

Sunday, June 8

Traveled to the town of Stei this morning for church. The drive was beautiful and the first time we were able to see the countryside in the light. Fields and pastures. Villages in the distance decorated with the silver, onion bulb spires of Orthodox churches. Mountain on the horizon.

I had my first opportunity to preach. I used the text of Joshua 24, where Joshua challenges the people to serve the Lord. In what had to be a first, Peter Lucaciu, told me that next time I could preach LONGER. On one hand I felt bad that the sermon length was left wanting, but it made me chuckle that for once, I was encouraged to preach a longer sermon. I sang "Christ Alone." Pastor George was our translator during the service and a great host. Here's a video of short clips from our visits to Stei. (We returned later in the week for a clinic.)

We traveled back to Beius for Sunday dinner and rest. I later went with Gaylen, Nicole, and Jackson for dessert at "The Bridge." Trying to be disciplined, I stuck with sparkling water (Water with gas, as they say...), they had desserts. If I ate as much as I could her, I would come back home heavier than when I left, if I'm not already. To be honest, I think I will be back at "The Bridge" often, and I will be eating. These desserts are too good to pass up.

I would like to exercise and run, but my unfamiliarity with the territory and the busy, narrow streets make me hesitant to go out alone. Andrea, Peter Lucaciu's daughter, made me laugh when I shared my concerns about running. She commented, "Yeah, and if a Romanian would see you running, he would say, 'What is that guy running away from?' No one in Romania runs."

We went to another village, Tinca, for the PM. There is a settlement of Gypsies (the Roma) on the edge of town. Words can't simply describe our experience there. The people are darker complected, almost Middle-Eastern in appearance. The women are dressed in colorful clothing, always wearing skirts and scarves. Living conditions appear to be much poorer than the average Romanian.

We worshipped at their church. I was very moved. I preached again--longer this time--and the pastor of the church, another Pastor George, had an altar-call. Apparently he was very moved and touched that I called them brothers and sisters in Christ. The Roma people experience discrimination and exclusion from Romanian society, so to have me as a representative of a team from the States to call them family was important. They were pleased that we would come and operate a clinic for them as well.

During the altar call, many came forward and almost everyone in the church were bowed on their knees as he prayed. Many were weeping. The service itself was powerful, even though I understood only what Peter translated for me. The singing was amazing. They sang some songs with familiar tunes, but their own native music--for lack of a better term--has some of the turns and phrasing of Arabic music. Beautiful.

We will be returning soon for a clinic. Can't wait.

We came back home to Beius for Saramale--a Romanian specialty of seasoned beef or lamb wrapped in a vinegar soaked and boiled cabbage leaf. It reminded me of some of the food that I've eaten in Lebanese and Greek restaurants. Very good.

I finished today spiritually refreshed, affirmed in faith, and glad to be where I am at this moment. I am truly thankful for the fellowship of believers.

REMM Journal--#2

2008-06-26T10:26:00.014-05:00

(A recap of my recent trip to Romania.)

Day 2

After spending over 24 hours traveling, I didn't need much encouragement to go to bed--even with the eight hour time difference. I woke up on Saturday feeling much better and ready to get started with the work we came to do.

Nicole and me, unpacking and organizing.

Linda checking the inventory in the clinic's pharmacy.

I, along with the team, took my time in the morning getting ready for the day. After a late breakfast, we gathered up our suitcases that were loaded with medications and headed to the clinic to take inventory. We unpacked medicines, clothes, and other supplies--sorting them into piles. Pills were organized by their function--multi-vitamins in one pile, blood pressure medications in another, and etc. I particularly enjoyed the tubes of diaper ointment appropriately labeled, "Butt Paste." All would eventually be placed back into suitcases so that we could transport them from town to town when we started the clinics.

After that, it was lunch time. The food is hearty and good. Truly meat and potatoes country. I don't think that there was a meal that didn't have some form of potato included with it. Lunch usually consists of two courses. First, we were served a brothy soup of one kind of another--sometimes chicken stock based, other times tomato based. After the soup, we received the main dish of some kind of meat and potatoes. Meat was usually beef, with some pork and chicken. I really like the salad that they occasionally serve. Usually salad is a shredded, slaw-style cabbage, with carrots, a sweet vinegar dressing, and seasoned with a little bit of dill. Refreshing. Also, I can't forget the ever present tub of "Delma" margarine, peach jam, and bread.

Today was the first opportunity for me to walk to "The Bridge," a coffee shop run by REMM in Beius. Built to provide a non-alcoholic, non-smoking, Christian environment to the people in Beius, The Bridge serves restaurant quality desserts along with frozen ice cream treats, espresso/coffee, and soft drinks. I was amazed that a dessert and espresso that would have cost me at least $6 or $7 in the States only cost me on average 4 lei (Romanian currency) or roughly, $2 (U.S.). Needless to say, I will head back there many times.

I met a recent high school graduate from Tulsa, OK, name Jackson Siebert. Jackson is working for REMM and the Lucaciu's this summer, doing some landscaping work and whatever else needs to be done on the properties. I've enjoyed talking with him so far.

So much for today. Pretty laid-back. Tomorrow promises to be much busier. We have two church services and I have sermons to finish.

REMM Journal--#1

2008-06-25T16:30:00.008-05:00

(Over the next few days I am going to include excerpts and reflections

from the journal I kept in Romania)

Friday, June 6, 2008

Well, I am safe in Beius, RO. We arrived about 11 PM Romanian time, or about 3 PM, Iowa time. The trip, including my drive from Hull to Des Moines, took about 29 hours.

Everything went pretty smoothly with the exception of the a delay of our flight from Detroit to Amsterdam. There was a broken lavatory in the front of the plane, of all things. This caused us to miss our connecting flight from Amsterdam to Budapest, but they had us re-scheduled by the time we landed at the Schiphol airport. I guess that's one advantage of a 7.5 hour flight. (With our Dutch last names, and apparent Dutch features, it was strange to walk through Schiphol airport as an American. I didn't even try the limited Dutch phrases I do know. I think the natives would have been offended on how I would abuse the mother tongue.)

Ferihegy Airport, Budapest

The airport museum of old planes that I was going
to tell Leah was our mode of transportation into Hungary.

We arrived without incident at Budapest. Our driver was waiting for us, and we packed up and left the city. It was a five hour drive from Budapest to Beius, including our border crossing from Hungary to Romania. I've been told that in recent years, the border crossing has been much less stressful. In the early days of the REMM trips, my mother speaks of the border crossing as being a tense time with the guards looking for bribes and abusing their authority. She said she remembers it being, "little boys with big guns, trying to be tough." I'm glad those days appear to be over, but we were glad to be across the border with passports in hand, nonetheless.

The countryside is beautiful. Hungary is flat, at least the part I drove through, with many large fields of corn and sunflowers. Romania has rolling hills with small fields and large pastures. Mountains sit on the edge of the horizon. On that first day, since we arrived so late, I didn't have the chance to see Beius by light. I am looking forward to the new day to investigate.

Hungary by highway.

On the road in Romania.

Along the way, I met some interesting people. On the flight from Des Moines to Detroit, I met Arnold Gordon. He is the president of a scale manufacturing company out east. He is an observant Jew, who ironically makes equipment that will be used weighing hogs. During the flight, we talked about the importance of putting our faith in action in the world around us. I had a chance to throw in some good Kuyperian/Calvinist perspective. Other than our perspective on the Messiah, we had a lot in common. He was kind enough to give me his card and offer an invitation to his home on Long Island, if I found myself in the area.

On the long flight overseas, I met Nasrin (sp?), a Turkish woman who was returning home to Istanbul to visit her parents. She had been living in the States as a student, did some social work, but basically was making money to support her travel habit. She had aspirations to be a full-time world traveler.

Anyhow, we made it safe and sound to Beius. I will be anxious to stretch my legs tomorrow. Tomorrow will essentially be a rest and organizational day. Everyone else on the trip seems to be holding up well--my folks, as well as Dr. Vande Zande and his daughter, Nicole. I am looking forward to the next two weeks.

I am going to put a few notes together for some preaching I have to do out here, and then turn in.

(Next post: June 7, Rest, Recuperation, & Reconnoitering)

Grateful...

2008-06-24T15:24:00.005-05:00

Well, I'm back from spending two weeks in Romania. I was serving with the Romanian Evangelistic Medical Mission (REMM) based in Beius, RO. I was part of a medical mission consisting of my parents (my Mom is a nurse), Dr. Galyn Vande Zande, a physician from Pella, and his daughter, Nicole. We were also aided by a young woman, Carina Dudas, a Romanian by birth, but has been living in the States for the past 13 years. She has hopes to attend medical school. She came along to assist us with translation.

Over the next few days, I hope to review the journal I kept in Romania and share it with you. Along the way, hopefully, you can learn a little about REMM, as well as get a sense of privilege I felt being allowed to come along on this trip. Thanks to my wife and kids for letting me leave them for two weeks. I thank my parents and the Vande Zande's, who were gracious enough to let me tag along. I am also thankful for the friends I made along the way, the Lucaciu's (Peter, Ana, Anca, Andrea, and A.J.), and the members of the other teams (W00t, Jackson S.). I am thankful for the wonderful hospitality and kindness of the Romanians I met along the way. Most of all I am thankful to God for making this possible, and keeping me safe. God is at work in this world. Most definitely. I am thankful that He gave me a peek into that work on the other side of the world. Grateful isn't the prettiest of words off the tongue, especially in light of the emotion it is supposed to represent. Yet, that is what I am. Very grateful.

From Romania, with Love

2008-06-14T13:09:00.003-05:00

Hello all. Greetings from Beius, Romania. All is well here as we have completed our ninth day in Romania. It's hard to believe that the time has passed so quickly.

In time, I have plans to flood you with pictures, but for now, just words. To be honest, I don't think a camera can completely capture all that I've experienced so far.

If you haven't heard, I've been part of a ministry called Romanian Evangelistic Medical Mission for the past week and a half. What am I doing on a medical mission, you might ask? Well, let me tell you, I am quite the expert at taking a person's blood pressure right now. Anytime you need to know how the systolic and diastolic are doing in your life, you get me a BP cuff and I will give you all the info. you need to know. I have heard irregular heartbeats, been given strange medical complaints like, "lazy gallbladder," and I have handed more lollipops to kids than I can count.

I have traveled to small town churches and gypsy villages. I have been preaching and singing when needed as well. I've also had the opportunity to see some of the sights around and about.

A Romanian open air market is a sight to behold. I have been invited for espresso in a gypsy (Roma) home. I have made friends with a young man who aspires to be a mountain climber.

God has been good. He has given us safety, a clear task, and many opportunities to observe and bear witness to his goodness.

All that said, I miss my family, too. I am looking forward to that first hug from my wife and daughters. The regular routine of home sounds appealing as well.

So, if you're reading this as a family member or friend, greetings to you from Romania, a country a world away and not often on the radar of American minds. Yet, this is a vibrant place, where graduates from the local schools travel two by two, arm in arm, to serenade their teachers at the end of the year. This is a place where fireworks rat a tat tat at midnight, signaling the end of a politcal rally for a local mayoral race. This is a place where the town goes silent during a match of the national soccer team but where cheers of a scored goal echo over backyard fences.

Noapte buna (Good night.)

May....Whew!

2008-05-23T15:20:00.002-05:00

It's been about a month since I posted. I'm just letting you all know we're still alive in this wind tunnel that we call Northwest Iowa. So, if you've been checking in to see if I've posted again--I have. It's not much, but it comes with promise that I'll write more soon. Not that I expect that you hang on my every word, but for the very fact that you do check, gives me some sense of obligation that I should post something once in a while.

I hope all is well with you, wherever you find yourself.

I'll be in touch.

Todd

It Should Be Illegal to Have This Much Fun...

2008-04-27T16:39:00.008-05:00

I guess it is, unless your with people who are permitted to do what I did last week Sunday night.

Jeff, a classmate and friend of mine from my earliest days in school, gave me a phone call a week ago saying that he was going to be in Spirit Lake doing some work. He is an employee of the Iowa Department of Natural Resources (DNR) with the Fisheries Department. Every year he comes to the Iowa Great Lakes to assist the Spirit Lake Fishery with its annual egg harvesting of walleye and muskellunge. (Having lived in Michigan, I use the word "Great" rather loosely.)

Apparently, there are enough anglers that fish on the lakes, that if the fish were left to their natural reproductive process, the water there would be "fished out" rather quickly. When the fisheries department comes in and takes and hatches the eggs, raise the fry, and then release them back into the lake, the fish population can be sustained, and fishing can continue in the lake.

Anyhow, on Sunday night, after the PM service at Hope, I packed my things and headed out of town. I arrived at the hatchery around 9 PM and was soon in a pick-up with Jeff and his co-worker Jason, pulling a boat-trailer and heading out to West Okoboji Lake. (Later, when I was talking to a member from my church, he said that W. Okoboji was considered to be a "fish graveyard," because he never had luck there. My pictures are proof that there are fish to be caught, and big ones at that.)

Once we arrived at our ramp, we backed the boat into the lake, and we were off. Thankfully, I had a warm rain proof coat, and Jeff loaned me a pair of rain pants, which kept me dry. (I did have to roll the waist over a couple times, since the legs that support m y 5'11" and 3/4" in frame are a bit shorter than the legs that support Jeff's 6'6")

We took off into the choppy water and went into the lake. Using a spotlight, we identified a reflective buoy about 300 yards out into the lake. Attached to it was a long gill net, the other end anchored to shore. A gill-net, if you're not familiar (I wasn't before last week.) is made from a material similar to monofilament fish line woven into a net with holes about 3-4" square. The net was approximately 6-8 feet high and 300 yards long.

The process was pretty simple, slowly take the net in, taking whatever fish came up and bringing them into the boat. Muskie and walleye went into a stainless steel cattle watering tank, aerated to keep the fish oxygenated. All other fish--largemouth and smallmouth bass, drum, northern pike, carp, and whatever else went back into the water. Everything that was caught was charted.

We checked three nets, the first of which was practically empty. The thought crossed my mind that I was the source of the problem, but I was not volunteering to be thrown in water Jonah-style. Nor was I going to suggest that they cast their nets on the other side of the boat. I figured clergy-humor was not going to fly for men who were separated from their families for a week and having to spend cold nights on a lake until they had their quota filled.

The second and third nets proved to have a little more success, bringing in some muskie--but no walleye. As they said during the night, "Muskie are fine, but walleye get us home." We reset the nets and then headed back to shore.

Waiting for us was another truck from the hatchery--essentially a truck with large compartments of water. The fish we brought in were transferred from the boat to the truck by a pole net, and then we headed back to the fishery to wait until it was time to check the nets again.

Around 12:30 AM, we took the 15 minute drive once again from the hatchery to our ramp. This time, the fishing was better. We still didn't catch many walleye, but we caught a few, which was good. I know that I would be tickled to have one of those on the end of my fish line someday. The highlight for me was the two muskie we brought in. Both were trophy size, around 46" a piece, and weighing close to thirty pounds. Even though we were using nets, watching those fish brought up to the surface contained the same excitement for me if I had caught them with a rod and reel. It made sense to me when Jeff observed that when you bring these huge fish up, it kind of discourages you to try to fish for these monsters the conventional way, knowing how difficult it is to catch them. These fish, many over a decade old, don't get this big being stupid.

The second time out, we brought the nets in, to be set once again the next evening. We returned to the hatchery to see the evening's catch. It's a fascinating process. Fish are weighed and tagged. The next morning, they are stripped of eggs and sperm. Soon after this, the fish are returned to the lake and area where they were caught. The harvested eggs are then fertilized and placed in canisters to mature and hatch. In the hatchery there are row after row of these canisters. Once the eggs hatch, the fry are transferred to large tanks. When the fish achieve the necessary size, they are they released back into the lake. Voila! Fish for fishing.

It was a good night. Thanks, Jeff, your invitation and hospitality were much appreciated. Give me a call next year!

Huizengas go to the farm....

2008-04-17T16:17:00.004-05:00

A couple weeks ago, my sister and her family came out for a visit. During their time out here, I thought it would be fun to take their oldest son, Matthew, out to the farm. Here are some pics of Luke at our house and when went out to the farm.

Luke on the Loose

2008-04-05T12:07:00.002-05:00

My sister and her family are visiting from Indiana. Here's a video of their youngest, Luke, on the move.

Luke on the Loose from Todd Zuidema on Vimeo.

Healthy Hull, Healthy Hope

2008-04-05T11:54:00.003-05:00

The town where I live is sponsoring a fitness campaign, entitled, "Healthy Hull." To support the intiative, Hope church is temporarily changing its name. Dress comfortably--calisthenics during the offertory.

April Fool

2008-04-01T12:36:00.003-05:00

I thought I'd share some of the joy of living in NW Iowa. It's April 1-Spring--and after receiving about 5 inches of wet, heavy snow the past two days, I wonder who is the bigger fool--me, or the robin who couldn't wait to get back up to Iowa, just to put his naked feet in the snow. I wonder if he's thinking the same thing.

Somehow, this didn't make it onto the job description...

2008-03-27T10:10:00.007-05:00

As the snow fell on Wednesday night--yes, snow on March 26--we all gathered at church for the annual Christian Education fund raiser/auction. Grilled meat, fresh potato salad, and soft serve ice cream were on the menu. Tables were lined with all the items--handcrafted and homemade, coupons for meals at restaurants or at families' homes, toys and treasures, all side by side. And, my favorite part, the auctioneer's call. A limber tongue, strong voice, and a quick wit makes a good auctioneer, and Krommendyk and Co., supplied us well.

All was moving along smoothly. There was laughter in the room and the steady buzz of people having a good time. The food was good and I was enjoying chatting with friends while I kept track of the toys my daughters had spotted that I HAD to bid on--that's another story (Todd as lousy auction bidder/strategist). Anyhow, all this was going on when the auctioneer stops and one of the members from church takes the mic and begins to explain how much I like lemon meringue pie. (Which I do like...) All this moves very quickly to a money making proposition. "Who would pay to see Leah feed Pastor Todd a piece of lemon meringue pie?" Great. People raise their cards and the amount is soon to $200 or so (I threw in $25 as well.) (Edit: They tell me that this stunt raised more than $600 for the auction. If I knew that it had this much potential to make money, I would have volunteered Leah, too.)

So, I come up front and there is another development. We have to do this blindfolded. Hmmm... This is a poorly veiled setup. We know what's coming don't we?

This is me smiling, but thinking, "This is not going to end well."

It all started innocently, with Leah snagging a bite or two for herself.

Things took an unfortunate turn right here...

And the inevitable...

Thanks, Lavonne.

Notice, how clean Leah remains....

Thankfully, everyone there was shocked, simply shocked; dismayed at the indignity I had to suffer. Several women in tears, I'm sad to report.

Other than some meringue and lemon filling up the nose, nothing broken.

I think this whole event somehow falls underneath the whole "servant leadership" model they told us about in seminary. Perhaps being willing to take a pie in the face in good humor could be loosely connected with feet washing.

St. Paddy

2008-03-17T09:50:00.002-05:00

Hope you had a good St. Patrick's Day. Mine was fine, as much as someone with Frisian Dutch heritage celebrates the holiday. Kinda like this YouTube video I stumbled upon:

Santa Barbara

2008-03-04T15:54:00.005-06:00

It's been a few days since I've written. And, well, I don't have a lot to say, other than I am in the middle of the Lenten push to Easter. Funny, how Lent is supposed to be about reflection... I can't help being tempted for selfish reasons to look toward the Monday after Easter. Perhaps it would be wise to reflect upon my reflecting. Blogging invites that type of navel-gazing doesn't it?

Anyhow, Leah and I had a wonderful trip to Santa Barbara the last week of February. So nice. The locals complained about the cooler weather and the rain, but considering they were speaking to an Iowan who left sub-freezing temperatures, I thought the weather was great, and they were just whiny. Much thanks to family and friends who made this trip possible for us. We are so very grateful.

Leah had to present at a conference at University of California-Santa Barbara at a writing conference. While she worked, I loafed. With our rented car, I drove into the mountains, went to an old Roman Catholic mission, hung out at a coffee shop, spent some time at the beach, ate some of the local produce at a farmer's market. The fresh mandarins and chile-salted almonds were first-rate. Also the grape juice from wine grapes (syrah & cabernet sauvignon) was amazing.

I did find some time with Leah, too, thankfully. We ate amazing food. Thai one night. Italian another. Fresh crepes at a French cafe for brunch. Seafood that was fresh and out of this world. It's good we didn't stay longer. At the price of a few of these meals, we would have been eating rice and beans at home. Somehow the culinary diversity of Pizza Ranch doesn't quite satisfy all the time. The broasted chicken and the "Sweet Swine" may be close to food for the gods, but sometimes you need to branch out.

We spent some time on State St. in Santa Barbara, touring the stores of the Paseo Nuevo. Later on in the day we went to wine country, through the mountains and inland to Los Olivos. I would recommend only two wine tasting stops. Seriously. If we would have gone to a third, we would have been sleeping in the car that night. If you haven't tried it yet, I highly recommend a bottle of port and some dark chocolate. That's a sensory experience to be had.

Also, we brought home some games we have played and look forward to playing with some of you. "Rat-A-Tat-Cat"--Remember playing the card game "Golf"? Similar, but the girls love it. Also, we brought home "Carcasonne," a game with some Settlers similarities, but an entirely different game. A lot of fun.

We bought them because of the most amazing game salesman we've met. His name was Rory, or "Roory," as he said it. Rory was Irish and was amazing. As soon as we figured out his thick brogue, we gave him the details on what we were looking for and he essentially told us what we were going to buy. Not only that, but he brought out his own copy of Carcasonne and played a game with us on a display case in the store. Meanwhile, he gave us a lightning fast history lesson on the relationship between the Scots and the Irish and how they came to settle the British Isles. Oh, and if you ever go to Santa Barbara and meet Rory, don't ever call him British. Or, as he said, "Do-ant eh-vehr f*****g call me British."

Anyhow, a great weekend. More stories to tell, but Lent is calling. A little over two weeks to Easter! (And the Monday after.) Here are some pics from the trip, too. There are a bunch and I didn't sort out the wheat from the chaff, so watch at your own risk.

I Hope Someone Does This for Me Someday...

2008-02-15T21:09:00.003-06:00

If you can get past the fact that the music in the background was performed by the "Evangenitals," you will see a simple, winsome act of compassion, shown by a fellow who can do amazing things with balloons.

We've all been in nursing homes before. There's not a lot of joy there very often. Most of the folks there seem to be just living, existing day by day. Some, if asked, would say that they are anxious to not be living any more. I am thankful for people who are able to bring smiles to those who don't seem to have a lot to smile about any more.

The "Balloon Man" was able to practice his skills, but he also found that kindness pays dividends. By being a blessing, we are blessed.

Winter in Iowa

2008-02-12T17:03:00.001-06:00

Took a few pictures the other day. I really don't mind winter. I say this as I look forward to leaving for Southern California next week. Hope all is well with you.

I Don't Know Why....

2008-01-29T15:33:00.000-06:00

I'm embarrassed, but I don't think I should be. I was brought to tears in church on Sunday, and to be honest, I don't know exactly why yet.

I've been preaching through selections from Job recently and this past week I focused on Chapter 10. In this passage, Job laments about his situation and wishes to God that he had never been born. Job wonders aloud if God is pleased by the suffering he is experiencing. Maybe God is too near-sighted to see what Job is going through. Even worse, Job wonders if God has a limit to his days, just like humans do. If that's the case, maybe God is trying to get his licks in on Job while there is still time.

I used this passage to talk about lament and its place in faith and in worship. Lament is the process of asking hard questions of God--hard questions that arise out of faith, not out of doubt.

Anyhow, during the sermon, I read a selection from Nick Wolterstorff's, "Lament for a Son." I made some connections between Job and Jacob, when he wrestled with the angel of the Lord (Gen 32). I was struck by the desperate plea of Jacob when he and the angel were locked up in a fight that had lasted through the night, "I will not let you go until you bless me!"

I was almost to the end. Here is the last paragraph of my manuscript:

"Remember this—God doesn’t hold himself aloof from our suffering. The cross behind me is a symbol of it. So is the bread and the cup. Even the water of baptism. He is a Father who mourned the premature death of a Son as well. This was part of his plan, too, we remember. Yet, with dying, there was rising. With every Good Friday eclipse of the sun, there is an Easter morning sunrise. Today, if you lament with Job; may you cling to the hope and joy of the disciples. “Peace be with you!” “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”^{^[1]} Even in our suffering, may we see the risen Christ."

I got to the end of the sentence, "...there was rising" and I couldn't speak. All I could do was look out at the people gathered there and then look down back at the sheet of my manuscript again. I was surprised by muteness. I felt the tears well up, and they were the worst kind of tears. They were the tears that you don't want to let loose, the tears you try to swallow down and keep inside. They weren't the cathartic tears that come when you can let go and sob.

I desperately wanted to say what was left on my page. They were the words of grace that I wanted people to leave with, words of hope that I wanted to give.

After a few deep breaths, I tried to get them out. If people were wondering what was going on before, they knew now. The pastor was crying.

I finished the sermon, my voice thick, and to my ears, not sounding like my own. After the, "Amen," I offered a brief prayer. (What I prayed, I have no idea.) We closed in praise, like a lament usually does, singing, "We Will Glorify." The words were comforting, but no easier to sing, than my "words of grace and hope" were to say. I raised my hands for the parting blessing, my voice a little stronger, finding some comfort in the routine of the service coming to its conclusion. We sang, "By the Sea of Crystal," the second and third verses, which speak of our joyful deliverance on the last day.

I walked down the aisle to go to where I greet after the service. As I made eye contact with a few people, some faces showed concern and compassion, some had red eyes and runny noses, like mine, and some, some looked perplexed at what had happened.

As I received the exiting worshipers, some expressed their thanks to me. A few gave me an embrace. Many shook hands, pinched out a smile, and kept walking as if nothing had happened a few moments ago. One person asked for a copy of the message so she could pass it along to others in her family. Later on in the day, before the evening service (which went off without tears, by the way) another stepped into my office to ask if everything was all right, "since you had that little breakdown this morning." My voice mail and e-mail contained messages expressing thanks for the message on Sunday. I was thanked for being "real," "transparent," and being "compassionate." One person stopped by briefly this morning and gave me two books to read, one entitled, "When God Is Silent" and the other, "Wrestling with God."

I am truly thankful for those expressions of kindness. They're gifts to me. Yet, that said, I still don't know why I cried, and I'm still a little embarrassed. I am a little hesitant to stand up in front of everybody next Sunday morning, because I think I don't want people to worry whether or not the pastor is going to lose it again. To be honest, it was such a surprise to me, I don't know that it won't happen again next week.

I don't think I was crying for myself. Was I emotional for those in my congregation whom I know I have experienced or continue to experience tragedy and loss in their lives? It's a possibility, but a bell doesn't ring in my head when I think of that option.

I told someone later on Sunday afternoon that when a pastor preaches, every sermon is a profession of faith in a very real way. You either believe it or not. I suppose you could say the words and not believe them, but I don't think you could play that game for long.

Perhaps that's the reason. My faith, or my desperate need for what I have faith in is what brought me to tears. If that's it, my hope is that everyone cries for their faith once in a while. It shakes us from an apathy that slowly numbs us from thinking or caring about what we believe. I can affirm that my faith certainly is on the forefront of my thoughts right now.

I may be embarrassed about what happened, but I'm certainly not ashamed of it. It's not the first time I've cried while standing behind the pulpit, but it's been a long while.

Even though I was preaching about the lament of Job, I will try to receive this event as a blessing. I haven't parsed out what the blessing exactly is yet. With Job, God wasn't very forthcoming in his answers. In short, God's "answer" to Job was, "I'm God. You aren't." Yet blessing followed for Job.

That in mind, I will try to be patient for what's ahead, prepared now with a couple of tissues in my suit coat pocket.

^{^[1]}The Holy Bible : New International Version. 1996, c1984 (electronic ed.) (Jn 20:26). Grand Rapids: Zondervan.

Saving My Life

2008-01-18T11:07:00.000-06:00

Long time, no talk.

I have been on a back-up binge.

Every couple months, I remember that I haven't backed up my computer for awhile. I blanch a little when I think about all that I could lose if I don't haul out the disks and fire up the DVD burner.

The problem is that it is a pain in the neck. However, whenever I hear the computer at home grind and moan when we do ask it to do something besides play the screensaver, I know that it is something I better do, or else I will regret it someday.

This is what I hate about backing up.

Multiple disk back ups. I love storing pictures. I love I-Tunes. However, for me that's over 17 GB of data on each of our computers. That's small potatoes for some people, I understand, but that's four or five DVD's. It's just a hassle.
Storage. Where do you put those disks anyway? In case of a catastrophe like a fire or a burglary, chances are that your storage disks are going to disappear with your computer, so what's the point. I had looked at picking up an additional disk drive for storage purposes, since the prices have gone way down, but the whole catastrophe thing is still an issue.
Old disks--when is it time to throw out previous back ups? How do you dispose of them in a way that you don't share your data with some guy at the garbage dump who flips your discarded DVD into his disk drive.
Paranoia that when I might need the disks that they won't work.

Then, an epiphany. Online storage! Maybe you all have heard of this before, but there are a number of companies that are now peddling online storage. All you do is download a small program and then upload all your data to a remote storage site. It's encrypted and secure. Here's the great part--once your data is all uploaded it checks your computer regularly and updates changes or additions to your files. Wunderbar! No more DVD's. No more back up hassles. It is well worth the five bucks a month ($50 per year) for the subscription.

Maybe this interests you, or maybe not. But these services satisfy my back up needs as well as provide nourishment to my "tech geek" craving. (Don't get me started about the Mac Book Air.)

I am trying two services right now. At home I am trying Carbonite. They offer a 30 day free trial (no credit card needed for the trial). For the computer I use for work, I am trying Mozy. Both get pretty good reviews, but after I started with Carbonite, I read some good things about Mozy (primarily the fact you can set your own encryption key). Try them out if your interested.

Some words of advice--First, you need a broadband connection. These services need speed and time. Second, be patient. For 15-17 G of data, figure on a week or so for it all to be uploaded. Carbonite doesn't seem to slow your internet browsing too much, and Mozy has a feature where you can throttle your speeds up or down depending on your usage needs. Handy.

Back-up bliss.

Christmas letters...

2007-12-22T17:18:00.000-06:00

It's time for the annual Christmas letter. Or, for the Zuidemas, it will be the mid-winter letter, because I haven't started ours yet.

Either through the mail or our box at church, we've been getting a lot of Christmas letters. Cards with stars and shepherds are common, so are the pictures of families with Mom and Dad often strangely absent. I don't think they want to have a photographic record of how they've aged over the past year. Kids are supposed to grow up. We just get balder, grayer, fatter, wrinkly-er and so on.

We've received some gift cards to area restaurants, and we're looking forward to trying out some places we haven't been to before. Just before I wrote this note--for some reason I can't bring myself to say "blog"--someone brought in a large "Dutch letter" pastry or "banket" for some of you (pronounced bahn-KET).

Anyhow, everybody seems to put on the best face for these notes and letters. However, as a pastor to many of these families, I know that life has been far from easy for many of them. Illnesses and death, trouble at work or with family, or even worse, trouble at work with family.

However, most of the letters have the pictures and a little blurb summarizing the year's highlights. Usually, everybody is " busy" and "doing well" and they wish us joy as we celebrate the "reason for the season." (Call me a curmudgeon, but I am a little tired of that phrase.)

One note stuck out for me. It was from a family who were members of the church I served while in Michigan. I found out in the past year that they had moved from Grand Rapids to Grand Haven. It made sense for them, due to the husband's long commute to his work while they lived in G.R.

Everybody was healthy. The photos showed that the kids were getting bigger. There were no pictures showing if the adults were getting balder, grayer, fatter, wrinkly-er and so on. All was well, and I thought, "Good for them."

Yet, my heart hurt for my former church. This family was what I would call a "core" family. The husband was a very capable and thoughtful leader in Council. His wife was a leader as well, helping plan worship at church. The liturgies she crafted were almost always on point, engaging, and helped provide a strong accent to whatever the topic or theme was for the day.

They moved six months ago and I never heard about it. No one was obligated to tell me. Yet, hearing the news brought me back to when I was open to considering a call to go elsewhere. I knew that there was a good chance that this family was probably going to move sometime soon and I knew that at that time didn't have the energy to fill the hole that they would leave. It wasn't the main reason I left. I don't think there was a main reason. Yet, I'd be lying if I said that it didn't play a part in influencing my decision.

Hearing that they had moved just sucked the wind out of me. Like some amputees who have "phantom pain" from the lost limb, I felt the sense of loss that my former church must have felt. I am no longer a pastor at that church. Yet, I still love the people there. Just like I love the people where I am at. Sure, there are some I am glad I left behind, but they aren't the ones I think about.

All this said, I guess its a reminder to me, that the church needs its members to be the church and not just the "crowd." Perhaps there are some pastors out there who have so much energy and talent that they are practically forces of nature--and can fill those empty spots at the drop of a hat. Not me. I need people who love the church enough that I don't necessarily have to cheer lead them into action. They are there, ready to be used in whatever way God wants them to be used. They are spiritual self-starters--if that's an appropriate term. Even though I am 700 miles away I mourn the loss for that church.

One last realization, though. I am guessing that while I am saddened, my former church is doing fine. I don't say this to give this piece a cloying ending where everything is tied up in a bow. Things work out. People adjust. The church moves on. New people step in to take responsibility and do well. The church changes directions--maybe for the better. God takes care of his church. I've been witness to this several times. Yet, that doesn't mean it's easy.

Probably all of a half a dozen people know that this blog--there, I said it--exists. So, if you're reading this, you might know the names and the places I have left unmentioned. If not, no big deal. What I have learned is that Christmas cards make me thankful for where I am and the people I have the privilege to serve. They also make me thankful for where I've been as well. And, as I found out today, even though people get older, kids grow up, and families move away, a part of you never leaves that place.

Frosty

2007-12-20T23:43:00.000-06:00

Leah took a walk this morning with her friend, Julie. A thick fog had settled over town early in the morning, but the temperature was close to freezing. The walk, the fog, and the temperature had an interesting effect.

Graduation

2007-12-07T22:27:00.000-06:00

Well, it's done. She's crossed the finish line. It was worth the 700 miles and driving through snow for eight hours. The video is of Leah being "hooded" by Marilyn, the chair of her doctoral committee and her crossing the line of graduation.

Also, here's some pictures of our trip. Of interest, we passed the Oscar Meyer "Weinermobile" on the tollway by Schaumburg outside of Chicago.

Other interesting happenings... After the graduation, an Asian fellow took pictures of Lindsey and Emily, "So cute!" He said. Also, there was a German family who sat behind us. After the ceremony was finished, the mother(?) pulled out a small hand drum and a tambourine, complete with mallets and handed them to the girls. Apparently, they had brought the instruments to celebrate and make noise when their family member crossed the line. However, they must have been chastened by the announcements hanging on the door that banners and noisemakers of any kind were prohibited. So, the girls were recipients of the contraband and we listened to their beautiful music on the van ride back to the hotel.

i love snow.

2007-12-07T06:57:00.000-06:00

Nothing like driving through two states in a steady snow. As we prepared to leave for Leah's graduation in E. Lansing, we watched forecasts and radar to see where the snow would be. South looked bad. North looked good. So, we went north... and drove into snow.

We drove past snowplows that either tried to blind us with all the snow they threw into the air or with their their seizure inducing flashing lights. We drove past vehicles in the ditch, some that looked like their might be serious injury involved. We drove on roads that were being coated with a steady snow, making us drive a tedious 15-25 miles per hour less than the speed limit.

I couldn't help but feeling angry at the snow--stupid as that sounds. We had worked so hard to avoid it. We wanted to be so responsible on where we drove and seeing all the advisories were to the south, we thought we'd miss any of the white stuff. Maybe we even felt a little smug that we were so savvy in our planning. It is/was a control issue.

The right answer is that I am supposed to be thankful that we arrived safe. My first inclination, though, is to be frustrated that I had to be worried about our safety. I didn't want the stress of weather added to the stress of traveling in general

Anyhow, after some switching of hotels, we headed into Middleton, west of Madison. We were thankful for a warm bed and a safe trip so far.

Today, we head to E.Lansing. The computer is telling us that we are looking at 375 miles or around 6.5 hours if we can drive at a normal speed. I will be satisfied if I can see where I am going and I don't have to white knuckle the whole drive.

Off to see Leah where a mortarboard and get "hooded."

AWOL Santa

2007-11-30T16:54:00.000-06:00

Sinterklaas didn’t show up this year and we were disappointed. Over the Thanksgiving weekend, we traveled to Pella to visit family. Its been a tradition in Pella that on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, there is a small parade where Sinterklaas, the Netherlands’ version of Santa Claus rides down Franklin St. in a big boat (with wheels) and passes in front of the Tulip Tower. Traveling with him are some folks dressed up as gifts—box costumes with ribbons. Trailing behind is the newly selected Tulip Queen and her court—making one of their first official appearances since their selection.

Sound a little cheesy? Yes, it is. However, it has always given us an excuse to go up town and grab a coffee or head to one of the local bakeries for some Dutch Letters, macaroons, or my daughters’ preference, “Cookies with LOTS of frosting.”

This year we showed up, waiting for Town Crier to announce the coming of Sinterklaas. There were quite a few others milling around the town square waiting as well. Soon, we hear the buzz that there wasn’t going to be a parade. There was a rumor that there wasn’t enough interest, or that those normally in the parade had other obligations.

So, there we stood, pastries in hand, waiting for a parade that wasn’t going to happen. We shrugged our shoulders, expressed a little disappointment, and then we went home. Sinterklaas was soon forgotten.

Over this Christmas season we will drive past houses covered with flashing, blinking, lights, some even choreographed to music. (Pretty clever.) Our children may be dressed up like shepherds or wise men. We will arrange miniature nativity scenes on our mantles. We will put up trees, buy gifts, and make Christmas themed treats. We do all this to celebrate a birth that happened over 2000 years ago.

In the minds of some, this is simply silly. To be honest, a lot of it maybe is. There has long been the complaint that Christmas is too commercialized and that we forget the “Reason for the Season.”

Yet, amidst all the decoration and flash, most Christians acknowledge that they have hope that Jesus will make His appearance again. Christmas may mark Jesus earthly birth years ago, but it should also point ahead to the time He comes again.

I encourage you to celebrate, decorate, and enjoy the holiday, but somewhere between the tinsel and bows, the Christmas meal and treats take a minute and reflect on Jesus’ impending coming. If another holiday passes and Christ has not yet come again, may we be a little disappointed, but may we never forget that He is coming again. May that hope change us. Decorations will be packed away. Lights will come down, but may we never lose our desire to see the King. May we say, “Maranatha,” “Come, O Lord. Come soon.”

Hull is Steamrolled

2007-11-28T22:45:00.000-06:00

The latest big attraction in Hull--one of many, I assure you, is the lightshow offered by one of our citizens (who attends the church I serve, I am proud to say).

FACEBOOK!

2007-11-28T11:20:00.000-06:00

I am so current, so relevant. I now have a Facebook page. Now I will wait patiently for all my friends to appear.

Truth and the Golden Compass

2007-11-14T16:39:00.002-06:00

Truth, not the saccharin "Truthiness" of Stephen Colbert is one of the themes of the book, "The Golden Compass," by Philip Pullman. As the opening book of the "The Dark Materials" trilogy, Pullman introduces us to a type of parallel universe, where things resemble the world we live in, but yet unique and different. Truth, or the Magisterium's hiding of the truth (i.e. the church) is there for Lyra, to try to find.

As a side note, as I begin reading this book, I was intrigued to find reference to John Calvin as being the "last pope," who moved the headquarters of the church to Geneva. Poor Calvin, the whipping boy for any one with RPE (i.e. Regretted Puritan Experience).

Anyhow, I have received chain e-mails, had concerned parents knock at my door, and read articles pro and con about this book. So, of course, I am reading the book, so I can form my own opinion.

As I begin the book, I've done a little research on the side. (www.hisdarkmaterials.org is an excellent resource.) What I'm finding is that Pullman, like Dan Brown of "The DaVinci Code" fame has an agenda. They both have an almost allergic aversion to anything that has to do with the established church. Pullman isn't the atheist that people claim him to be. Instead, he is more concerned about breaking down the dogma and doctrine of the orthodox church. In his view, the established church is authoritarian and preoccupied to the level of paranoia with holding on to power.

It is my opinion that Pullman is very religious in a sense. He doesn't deny the divine. In fact, he uses his powerful imagination to picture the divine in ways we have never imagined. The problem that people (i.e. orthodox Christians) have with Pullman is that his sense of the divine doesn't have a lot of use for the Apostles' Creed.

Anyhow, I'm reading. From where I am at right now, I can tell that this is a book I would read WITH my children, and not let them read it alone--not until they are older, anyway.

What it comes down to is this--If a book of fiction is enough to shake a person's faith, I would be inclined to ask how much faith there was in the first place. Related to that is that if the Christian faith cannot sustain a challenge from a work of fiction, it isn't much of a faith at all.

Time....

2007-10-31T10:59:00.001-05:00

I have best intentions...

I could break out into a whole list of navel-gazing reasons why I don't keep up with this blog as often as I want (should?).

The simple fact is that I don't take the time. Apparently it's not a priority yet. Yet, there is a lot of other stuff that I am doing that I don't feel is worth my time. So, I am trying to rearrange a bit. Once a week. That's where my goal is set for now.

So, there it is. See you next time.

Labelmakers

2007-06-01T13:42:00.000-05:00

These are some headlines I’ve been following in our state newspapers recently:

The football coach at one of our state universities wants to hire a chaplain for the team. A petition has been signed by several of the faculty of the school that challenges this hiring. While this position would be privately funded, some consider the presence of a chaplain—a Christian—inappropriate.[1]

Also, the “InnerChange Freedom Initiative,” a Christian-based prison treatment program operating at the Newton, IA Correction Facility is probably going to be discontinued. Statistics have shown that this program has reduced cases of prison violence and, more importantly, increased the percentages of former prisoners being successfully integrated into society as productive citizens. The program has been declared unconstitutional in court, claiming a conflict between the separation of church and state. While that ruling is still under appeal, our state government has passed a bill that removes funding from the program.[2]

When news like this is published, like me, you mourn the hostility and resistance to the Christian faith in the public life. Many find it easy to dismiss Christians as all being “right-wing” or “fundamentalist,” using those words as a label that when applied, makes the attempt to disqualify those people as too biased, too ignorant, too judgmental, or too…whatever criticism applies to a particular situation.

It makes my head and my heart hurt when others feel they can explain my faith away by giving it a label. Believers in Jesus Christ are more than labels. We have beliefs we hold as important—guided by God’s Word to hold. We have families, friendships, and communities we value and want to keep. By nature we want to have an environment that supports our beliefs and the relationships we hold to be important. Protecting those interests should be an understandable response, to do less would mean that whatever faith we profess doesn’t have enough value for us to defend it.

All that said, often many who claim faith in Christ have earned criticism. All too often, because of our sinfulness, we fail to reflect the will of the Creator. We can be hot-tempered, selfish, mean, sharp-tongued, judgmental, inconsistent, etc. The word, “hypocrite,” flies frequently and far too accurately toward us. We’re sinners. It’s too easy to forget that we’ve been called to a higher standard.

Scripture says that there will always be challenges to our faith—even persecution. Yet the Bible also holds us to a standard of faithfulness that calls through whatever challenges we have. There are many examples of this throughout the Bible. Since we are reading through Ephesians at this time, may we be challenged by considering these words from Ephesians 4:1-6:

“…I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit— just as you were called to one hope when you were called—one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.”

A person who lives these words ends label making and starts label breaking.

[1] “ISU President Wants Input from Council” The DesMoines Register & Tribune, May 30, 2007

[2] “Religious Prison Program in Doubt” The DesMoines Register & Tribune, June 1, 2007

a loner

2007-04-17T14:48:00.000-05:00

Just a quick note....

Just thinking about the murders at Virginia Tech. One thing I realize is how the English language cannot begin to explain what went on at that campus. The press is using words like "tragedy," "rampage," and "massacre." Those words even fall short when thinking about the fact that 32 of the 33 people who died began that day without a hint that it would be their last.

Another thing, and this bothers me, the press is busy labeling the student who committed the murders as a "loner." As if this somehow provides an explanation. I guess it is our nature to try to make sense out of what appears to be senseless. For me, right now, I am content with senseless. I don't want to have an explanation that provides a reason for someone to end so many lives.

Book Fast

2007-03-04T07:53:00.000-06:00

The local pizza place has special menu for Lent. This is a curiosity for me that I will have to see (and maybe sample) for myself. As I have seen in practiced, Christians, most often those in the Roman Catholic faith, observe the fast by refraining from eating meat on Fridays. Interestingly, fish have been excluded from being categorized as “meat.” Therefore, this is why it is so common to see the local organizations sponsoring a fish fry or fish dinners during this season.

“What are you giving up for Lent?” More and more, that question is being asked by Christians from a variety of traditions. The discipline of fasting is applied to a certain aspect of daily life, not necessarily being food. Some turn the television or the radio off for the six weeks of Lent. I have heard of others abstaining from sweets or desserts. Lauren Winner, in her memoir, “Girl Meets God,” gave up books.

For some of us, giving up books doesn’t seem like a sacrifice. However, to Winner, reading is a central part of her life. By her count at that time in her life, she owned almost three thousand books, all crammed in her graduate student apartment. Just for comparison, I took a quick estimate of the books in my own study. By my count, I own one fifth of the books that Winner had, and many of the books on my shelf are in the “yet to read” category. Giving up reading is a sacrifice for Lauren Winner.

Winner talks about how she started her fast from reading nobly, proud that this was something that she could do. Later, temptation crept in. In her words, she “cheated.”

“I grab the book and I dig in. I read all night. I feel like the dieter, long deprived of anything tasty, who decides to devour a gallon of Breyer’s in one sitting.” (127)

For Winner, she learned that reading was an escape, as she says, “an always cure” to bring relief from whatever event or issue was troubling her. Without that escape she found herself spending more time in prayer. Giving something up for Lent led her to give more time to God.

As I think about this passage, I think of some words of Jesus that challenge me. First, I ask myself, what do I hold on to so tightly that it keeps me from following Christ? Matthew 8:18-22 comes to mind, especially the last two verses. Under the heading, “The Cost of Following Jesus,” one disciple pledges to follow Jesus, but only after he has buried his father. Jesus counters with these words, “Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead.”

I also think of Matthew 6:16-18, which contains Jesus’ admonition on how to fast. To paraphrase, Jesus says to keep the fact that you are fasting to yourself. Fasting isn’t something you do to show others how “religious” you are. Fasting is something that you do for God.

From Lenten pizza, to giving up something for Lent, to Jesus’ words, let me close with a couple of thoughts to tie things together. Fasting or “giving something up for Lent” can be a worthwhile exercise. It helps us identify the things we give priority to that have little to do with the nurturing of our faith. The question we should ask ourselves when considering a Lenten fast of one type or another is, “What would we be slow to give up when we apply Jesus’ words, “Follow me,” to our own lives?

Finally, if some of us do decide to “give something up for Lent,” it must not be used as a badge to reveal a superior spirituality. Winner’s fast from books encouraged her to prayer. What would a fast do for us? More time in prayer and devotions with God? An increased sensitivity to loving those around us? During this season of Lent, may we consider our willingness to leave all behind and to follow Jesus.

Swamped

2007-01-09T17:16:00.000-06:00

Kid's programs, sermons to write, weddings to officiate, and too many distractions. Like the sunset out my window... More to write later...

Piles of books

2006-01-31T15:42:00.000-06:00

Some people binge on chocolate. I binge on books... I have a pile on my desk right now that I purchased this weekend at a conference. They're staring at me right now. Don't get me wrong, they're good books, if books can be intrinsically good, that is. They're books I should read. But they are going to haunt me for a while--sitting there, just waiting for me to read them. Time to stop writing and get reading. No calories, at least.

New Orleans

2005-09-02T12:10:00.000-05:00

So, I've just finished reading and watching the goings on in New Orleans. I have been shocked by the looting occurring and I am disgusted by it. I am not talking about those who have to steal to obtain food, water, clothing or necessary medicine, but I speak of the many pictures of people walking around with boxes of electronics or shopping carts full of stuff not necessary for survival.

It speaks of the depravity of humanity. It speaks of the discrepancy between the "haves" and "have nots" in our culture. It speaks of our need for a Savior.

I have to preach about grace and forgiveness this week. In the light of the crimes I have read and seen this past week, it will be tough. Grace and justice--it is hard to match those together. I pray that these people get relief soon and the authorities get things under control.

Here we go...

2005-09-01T16:38:00.000-05:00

I am officially a blogger. Tune in while I find out more about the goings on about how this works.