Blow, Wind, Blow

I can tolerate the cold.  It’s the winter wind that wears me out. In fact, I think some of the most beautiful winter days are when the sky is crystal clear and the temperature is so cold that the snow crunches under your feet and moisture freezes on your eyelids.

But when the wind blows, it seems to blow right through you.  Rational, thinking human beings are reduced to operating by their survival instincts.  All we can think about is to get out of the wind.

As preachers are prone to do, I was thinking of sermon illustrations related to wind.  I thought of the account from Acts 2 of the first Pentecost when the gift of the Holy Spirit was given to the apostles and promised to all who believed in Jesus Christ.  On that first Pentecost, the Spirit’s arrival was punctuated with the sound of a rushing, violent wind. 

Several years ago, when I was a seminary intern in Michigan, there was a violent thunderstorm that passed through the area in the early morning hours of Pentecost Sunday.  As we drove to church for worship, we noticed several trees had fallen and the news broadcasted that many people were without electricity.  When we arrived at church, we greeted a woman whom we knew who dedicated a lot of her time to prayer.  She was able to joke, “I prayed for the Holy Spirit wind to blow on this Pentecost.  I wonder if I prayed too hard!”

We can joke, but we should also realize that the Holy Spirit does blow in the hearts of all who believe in Jesus Christ.  We’re slow to admit that the Spirit has to wear us out like a relentless wind before we can be shaped by God.  The Holy Spirit blows through us, not to chill us to the bone, but to warm us to living a devoted, grateful life for Jesus Christ. 

From the Canons of Dort, a confessional document used by churches from the Reformed tradition, we read that through the Holy Spirit, “God activates and strengthens the will so that, like a good tree, it may be enabled to produce the fruits of good deeds. God also penetrates into the inmost being, opens the closed heart, softens the hard heart, and circumcises the heart that is uncircumcised. God infuses new qualities into the will, making the dead will alive, the evil one good, the unwilling one willing, and the stubborn one compliant. God activates and strengthens the will so that, like a good tree, it may be enabled to produce the fruits of good deeds.” (Canons of Dort, 3^rd & 4^th Main Point, Art. 11)

This week, as we feel the wind blow, may it remind us to pray for our hearts’ defenses to be worn down by the Holy Spirit.  Instead of being chilled to our core, we pray that the Holy Spirit will blow like a wind, to open what is closed and take what is dead and bring it to new life.  We pray that the Holy Spirit will show us Jesus.

Apple Pie Day

So.  Members of our church made over 1500 pies in about 9 hours yesterday.  This is the 8th time I've done this.  I'm glad to say that every year something improves and some part of the process moves more smoothly that the previous year.  This year's innovation?  In the over-the-road trucking lingo, a "reefer" trailer.  A refrigerator trailer, to be precise and no, not the "reefer" your mind first pictured... Come on now.  We're a church.... in Iowa, not Colorado.  What a benefit to be able to cart the freshly assembled pies into a trailer where the temperature hovered between -8 to -12 F.  We could transport or deliver pies already frozen, which means we could stack them.  O, so much easier to move around.

Glad the pies are made, the project completed, and all seems to be a success.  The money raised will help cover some of our church's Fair Share responsibilities for Christian Education.  I don't think I'm alone in wondering sometimes if the significant commitment is worth the money, but I can say that we had a good time working hard together.

One conversation I had while working yesterday made the whole project worth it for me.  Later in the afternoon, after school had dismissed, a number of our school age kids arrived at the location where we were making the pies.  They bounced in, all smiles, eager and asking, "What can I do?"  They helped me with weighing the balls of pie dough--a precise 7.25 oz, by the way.

"This is one of my favorite days of the year!" One of the girls said.

"Why is that?"

"Because we make pies! And it's my church!"

That was enough for me.

Oh, hello.

Well, it's been close to two years since I have posted anything on this blog.  The grind of ministry keeps me from writing for  "fun."  However, if you have made your way here recently by random chance (as a Calvinist, maybe I should say "pre-ordained" or something like that), or if you came here through another link, well, welcome.  You can say hi, and I'll try to stop by a little more often.

9-1-2011 Reflection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have probably asked and are still asking some of the same questions that I asked this past week.  My questions reflected shock.  How could this happen here?  How and why could someone be so cold 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 and revenge.  When are we going to get even?

Expert after expert has been brought on the air to talk about what has happened and how America should respond:  terrorism, defense, rescue, etc.  Even now, plans are being made for finding the terrorists and sending out military strikes.  Then, a question came to me that I didn’t want to ask myself.  As a Christian, how am I to respond?  People look to pastors, too; we’re also supposed be experts, attempting to provide answers for a event so horrific that simple words can’t explain it. 

We can wrestle with the details—the motivation of the terrorists, what goes on in the mind of someone who is willing to take his own life as well as the lives of thousands of others.  While nothing can justify the actions of the people who did this, Christians should have a broader perspective on why such evil has happened this past week and we should respond to it. 

The main, principal reason that this event happened is sin—plain and simple—and sin affects us all—no matter where we live.  Because of sin, we have lost shalom.  Shalom is a Hebrew word that means something along the lines of perfect peace, flourishing, wholeness, and delight.  Shalom is what existed in the world before sin, and shalom is what we look for today as we strive to grow closer to God.  Cornelius Plantinga calls shalom, “the way things ought to be.”  Sin that exists in the world is a parasite, a vandal, and a spoiler of the perfection that God placed in all of Creation. 

The hardest part for us to acknowledge is that we, even we Christians, are participants in sin.  The scalding realization is that even though we didn’t fly the planes, even though we are sickened, horrified, and angered by the loss of life, as sinners, we indirectly share in the responsibility of the pain that has occurred this past week.  We also play a part in sabotaging what God first created as perfect and good.

We’re quick to point fingers at Muslims or the Islamic religion.  We see only sterotypes, beards and burqhas, violent and driven.  We think that they are people who envy what we have in the West and would like to take from us.  As Christians, and particularly as American Christians, we must be honest with ourselves and the shortcomings of our country.  I heard a quote on Tuesday night where a man observed the Trade Center Towers, “Look at what the hands of men can make.  Now I see what the hands of men can take away.”  Even as we have been blessed with so much wealth and freedom, how have we used that wealth and freedom?  How have we and how has our country looked out only for its own interests and not to the needs of others? 

Americans value freedom, yet that value often gets twisted into a notion that freedom means that we can do whatever we please—either to our neighbors across the yard or pew, or across the ocean.  It is that abuse of freedom allows us to be easily bound and even enslaved by sin—we become bound to our material goods.  We become enslaved to greed, pleasure, or power.  True freedom occurs only with our submission God.  With God, we are given the freedom to seek shalom—peace, a perfect relationship with God and our neighbor.  True freedom.

I am privileged to live in this country.  I am honored to be American, but as Christians, citizens of God’s Kingdom, we cannot blindly follow all of the policies that our culture and or political party of our choosing supports.  Once again, first and foremost, we are Christians, citizens of God’s Kingdom.  We belong to God, before we say that we belong to one country or another. 

Why didn’t God stop the planes from crashing?  Why did over 5,000 (3,000) people have to die?  Historians look at causes, but ultimately we know that sin and evil are active in the world.  If allowed to run its full course, 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, we wouldn’t be here worshipping today.  I believe we wouldn’t be here at all.  Satan and sin would have taken everything that God had created and would have destroyed it. 

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

The president called for a National Day of Prayer this past Friday.  Prayer is a visible sign of our dependence on God.  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 something happens that shakes us into remembering that whatever control we claim to have in our lives is fragile and easily lost.   Don’t let a disaster of a national scale or a personal scale be the only thing that reminds us that God alone—not you or me, not the president, not the military—is in control.

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

In words that remind me of what happened this past week, we read in vs. 10-11 that the wicked’s “victims are crushed, they collapse; they fall under his strength. ¹¹ He says to himself, “God has forgotten; he covers his face and never sees.”

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

We have the testimony of Scripture that has shown us that God has claimed us from Satan.  “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 has claimed us, changed us, and brought us out of sin and into relationship with God.  God does not lose what he claims.  “Nothing is able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:39)

Will there be justice?  Absolutely.  But we must remember that justice is ultimately God’s, and God’s alone.

Vv. 16-17 say this, “The LORD is King for ever and ever; the nations will perish from his land. ¹⁷ You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, ¹⁸ defending the fatherless and the oppressed, in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more.

In the next few weeks we will be certain to hear of bombs and cruise missiles striking throughout the Middle East.  They will come from a military force supported by Americans who have thirst for vengeance.  A leading politician in our country said, “May God have mercy on them, because we won’t.” (McCain) I am convinced that thousands more are yet to die, even more Americans as they become involved in the fighting.  Perhaps there will even be more terrorist strikes in the U.S.  It is easier to believe that this is possible after this week. 

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

As an American, I support searching and striving for justice as far as we can uphold it.  I understand the need for our country to seek and out and punish those who did this.  When we sin there are earthly as well as eternal consequences—the same holds for these people. 

However, as a Christian, we need to consider justice, but also grace.  As the Psalmist writes, “If you, O Lord kept a 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 in his word I put my hope.” (Psalm 103:3-5)  We should pursue reconciliation as well as justice.  What is my role to encourage as the prophet Micah says, “Beat our swords into plowshares?” (Micah 4:3) America hears the voices of the victims in their minds, and wants the blood of her enemies on her hands.  Will America feel better after that blood has been spilled?  Vengeance gives 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 more death and debt. We will never get even, even if we repay death with death a thousand times over.  Peace will only come in its fullness when we stand before the throne of God and sing, “Holy, holy, holy!  Lord God almighty!”

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

Jesus is coming again.  God will make things new.  God will bring perfect shalom to the world again.  Planes won’t crash into skyscrapers killing thousands.  Millions won’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, not afraid of the future.  Be prepared, and prepare others.  God is King forever and ever.  The King has not only won the battle, but has won the war.

What to Write About?

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

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....

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.

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

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

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

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

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

No Memoirs for Me.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.