Dear Family in Faith,

This is the day the Lord has made. 

Let us rejoice and be glad in it!

This is the sentiment of many faith-filled people.  Each new day is God’s gift of re-creation and opportunities abound to see and experience God’s goodness and love.  Or, as the Apostle Paul writes to the Phillippians, “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.”  In the next verse over, Paul says, “do not worry about anything.” 

Yet, we also live in a world of tragic consequences and outcomes. 

I shared with our Session that one of the experiences I’m having in the continuing education course I’m involved in online is that eight of us in a small group took about three minutes and were able to name more than a dozen pieces of trauma affecting our church-lives these days—and none of them were related to COVID. 

There’s lots of “stuff” that affects us in different ways at different levels.  With the storms this week there were tornadoes near Round Rock, Texas and in New Orleans. Several of our churches in Texas sustained damage to their buildings, including one roof being lifted up and and set back, meaning it’s now unstable; one church family lost their home but each person and their pets were uninjured; and there was home and neighborhood damage in New Orleans where some of our churches there are.  Aside from the weather, there was another shooting incident at a community event in Dumas, Arkansas with at least 27 victims at last count.  You cannot turn on the television or open the newspaper or look online or at your phone—without being reminded there’s a war in Ukraine; and the toll of broken buildings and cities being reduced to rubble affects all of us. 

My mother’s sage advice anytime things were difficult was and is, “this too shall pass.”  I know that.  I believe that.  It’s just that I’d rather skip over the having to live through it part, that none of us like.  I want to get to the passed part! 

That’s the view of the Psalmist, who writes, “This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it”      (Psalm 118:24), writing out of real, lived-in experience of having to call on God out of suffering great distress.  “I was pushed hard, so that I was falling,” says the Psalmist, and gives God credit for bringing salvation.  The Psalmist’s declaration of this being the Lord’s day …for our rejoicing and gladness, comes from the experience of having lived through trauma.  And by the end of the psalm, rejoicing and gladness has turned again to a refrain of gratitude. 

Psalm 118 begins with “give thanks,” and a breath prayer, repeating: “[God’s] steadfast love endures forever” as a refrain three times.  But then it’s more clear.  Distress.  Hardship.  Difficulty.  And the outcome justifies this confidence that God is steadfast and delivers and saves.  “This, too, shall pass.” 

But sometimes, it’s hard to breathe in, “All will be well,” and not turn around and exhale, “are you sure …all will be well, God?”  The Psalmist offers a reminder that God says, “it shall be well …keep breathing.”  Eventually, the storm is over, and we open the door and go outside and we look to see what happened and we even find ways of helping those who suffered damage, or who had to endure the elements without protection.  Yes, we sometimes get to help make things well for others. 

But part of that conversation in my class about all the traumas we’re faced with, individually and collectively, was meant to help us become more aware and being mindful that resilient people and resilient communities are grounded in gratitude.  It’s not just knowing that when times are hard, God helps us; but also living into that experience of knowing what it is that we have to be grateful for.  That our gratitude gives us concrete evidence—like the Psalmist does—for God’s goodness and joy.  And that investing ourselves in the work of gratitude and thanksgiving is a key ingriedient not only to surviving, but overcoming; not just making it through to the other side, but thriving.  And when we invest ourselves in thanksgiving, we are also led to the places and people where what we might have to offer can be used. 

The Psalmist is right.  God is saving us.  This is the day God has made.  It’s not always joy and celebration—but also being aware of what we can be grateful for and how our lives are written into the fabric of the story God is making when worldly chaos is transformed.  What are your three best examples of the “steadfast love of the Lord enduring in your life?  We need each other.  We need Church.  Come share your stories of salvation. 

See you in Church! 

Connections with Ukraine

 Dear Family in Faith,

Presbyterians are connectional.  We believe our churches, our presbyteries, and our people are “connected” in powerful ways—sometimes by design, but oftentimes, just because.  A few days ago, I participated in one of these ubiquitous “Zoom calls” being introduced to a task force that will be planning worship for an upcoming meeting.  One of the people on the call lives in Lexington, KY—where my dad grew up—and lives in the same part of town where some of my dad’s family still does!  …But I digress. 

In the weeks since the Russian invasion of Ukraine, as the whole the world has been struggling to figure out how to respond, we’ve been waiting for news about how Presbyterians can make a difference, seeing so many people in need—and being able to offer ways YOU can help.  …It’s about connections. 

In turns out that 25 years ago, a couple in Palo Duro Presbytery (think the northwest part of Texas) had been called and led through child adoption to begin an amazing ministry with people in Romania, working with Romanian orphans.  Fred and Carolyn White helped start what is now known as NOROC—“New Opportunities for Romanian Orphaned Children,” the letters also come from a Romanian word that means, “God bless.”  This important ministry is headquartered in Tolcea County in Romania along the Danube River—just before the river empties into the Black Sea, near the now-famous incident between Romanian military and a Russian warship on Snake Island—a part of Romania that borders a small part of Ukraine between Moldova and the Black Sea.  This has been a “ground zero” location for Ukranian Refugees in the days since the Russian invasion began. 

NOROC was started in response to a Romanian orphan crisis that began with the end of the cold war and the fall of communism.  A state-sponsored program requiring families to have five children or more forced families into economic crisis being able to support so many children financially, led to huge numbers of abandoned children needing adoption.  Overwhelming numbers meant children were being neglected and suffering horrific consequences.  NOROC began sponsoring a program for women to help children be fed and get physical attention and “play.”  Today, NOROC’s work has expanded, now serving families and helping families support themselves and truly creating “new opportunities” for Romanian children and their families.  It’s a wonderful success story! 

But now …in the aftermath of the invasion …needs and responses have shifted again.  NOROC is in a unique position to respond somewhat immediately to the crush of mostly women and children fleeing the violence in Ukraine.  NOROC’s network of programs and staff and volunteers are already in place to help respond to the crisis and WE are able to support their work by way of being “connected” through our Church.  People we know and trust are directly connected to work happening on the ground; and in addition, NOROC is a licensed NGO (non-government organization) in Romania and a 503(c)3, not-for-profit organization in the United States.  Which means we can make donations here in the United States and have the funds flow directly to needs on the ground—almost in real time. 

You can learn more about NOROC by going to their website.  And here’s the link to their “how to help” page: 

http://www.noroc.org/how-to-help.html

You can make your donation or make a donation safely and securely online.  The “donate” button on the page will take you to a secure webpage used in conjunction with the Presbyterian Foundation; you are asked to indicate that your gift is to be used for Ukraine, or Ukranian Refugees, to ensure your gift gets used exclusively for those purposes. 

You can learn more about this unique connection to Presbyterians in our Synod, by listening to a recent podcast with an interview between Valerie Young (our Synod Leader and Stated Clerk) and Rich Schemph, former Executive Presbyter for Palo Duro Presbytery (now honorably retired but who is involved directly with NOROC) here:

https://www.synodsun.org/sunspots

Pick/click/play the episode on Ukranian Refugees from March 1^st. 

There are other ways to support the response to so many human needs in and around Ukraine—including Presbyterian Disaster Assistance, the Red Cross, etc.  …this one comes with some “connection” to people in our region who are connected to real people who’ve been doing good work for a while—and are making a real difference right now!  It’s a chance to do something faithful but also bring the world a little closer together. 

See you in Church.

We Might Have Forgotten Lent

 Dear Family in Faith,

By all appearances last Sunday, we seemed to forget that it was Lent.  Two Christmases ago, we didn’t assemble our Chrismon tree; one of these years, we ordered Easter lilies, but no one ever saw them.  We’ve all had the struggle of wanting to be normal, of trying to function as we were once accustomed, and in the myriad of ways we’ve been forced to change and adapt means our memory is a little off.  Our staff, individually and collectively didn’t remember or failed to realize we hadn’t prepared our sanctuary with the usual Lenten adornments—our cross and crown of thorn wreaths were missing, and I think we missed updating the bulletin cover.  There were questions about flowers still being in the sanctuary during Lent and lots of people have been asking about Holy Week services, too. 

So, I’ve been wondering since last Sunday—like, “how did we forget about Lent decorations?”  The signs and symbols of our Lenten season?  …But I confess, I know how this can happen since any Lenten season comes with challenges we don’t always want to “welcome.”  Lent can be sobering—with its eye toward Jesus’ death; it’s encouragement to repent, confess our sin, and think about our mortality; its journey following Jesus all the way to the cross, where we’re encouraged not to shut our eyes but even to watch his being tortured and a cruel execution.  That Mardi Gras, or “fat Tuesday” is such a big celebration as the last day before the six weeks of Lent with it’s “giving up” or “going without” as spiritual discipline also indicates we don’t always appreciate the dark or stark nature of the season in relationship to the rest of our lives.  And while many people choose willingly to “give up” things—as signs of their sacrifice or spiritual disciplining—some of those choices are things like coffee, or soda, fasting at mealtimes, or quitting smoking—while good for “improvement of life” or spiritually, can also come with negative consequences that leak out around the edges (people are grumpier without their morning coffee or skipping meals, etc.). 

On Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, one of my colleagues posted: “My first words to Holly today: ‘Good morning, sinner.  Death awaits you’.”  The traditional wording at the imposition of ashes is, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.”  Yet, all this talk about death, leaves some people feeling dark and dreary.  In fact, another colleague who recently came to our Presbytery in retirement, who spent forty-some years in ministry, never once celebrated Ash Wednesday—he doesn’t believe in it!  Of course, in more liturgical traditions, there are other aspects of worship that change for Lent—not saying or singing any “Alleluias,” singing particularly Lenten hymns often in minor keys, covering all crosses in fabric, even covering over stained glass windows or pictures of Jesus—all meant to be reminders of Jesus’ death.  Sometimes, I think these liturgical traditions end up pushing people away, especially when they might not know the reasons why those observances can be spiritually important.  It’s also why some of us found it disconcerting and disorienting to be missing OUR usual spiritual signs of the season last Sunday, too! 

Not everyone we encounter will know the reasons for our symbols and practices; and while WE find them important, others can experience them differently.  For example, many people love the hymn, “Amazing Grace;” but I’ve met lots of people who refuse to sing it, who even find it “offensive” because they don’t believe that they or anyone else should be called a “wretch.”  The hymn is deeply moving for so many; they are often completely unaware of the pain it is for others. 

We’ve done our best this week to put our sanctuary “back in order” for Lent.  Our hearts and minds might still be a little out of sorts, but the reminders of God’s grace and love are everywhere.  For me, personally, sometimes I like turning Lent on its ear—I prefer seeking the signs of life and hope and grace, knowing that there is a Good Friday, but that Easter is also coming.  Sometimes, I also need some joy to take me toward Easter, too, but that’s usually out of step with our liturgical season that imposes penitence and death as the road to making Easter resurrection even better.  Sometimes, I have to have one foot in joy and life, because the other things in life are too overwhelming.  I confess, I’ve had to try and wear the clothes of being positive and hopeful, wanting to help stave off death with my mother’s recent illness, and for others I know who’ve also been battling disease and setbacks, too.  I know that when death is near, so is resurrection; but I can do without the death for a while.  I know you can’t have resurrection without a death.  And too often, we all just want to avoid death, hoping to prolong our days: rather than using the time God’s given us. 

I also know that the promise of Lent is that death is met by life; that even though we die, we will live.  I believe that all is not lost, that joy comes with the morning, that the rhythm is life, death, and resurrection, and that death loses its sting.  Which is ultimately how we can greet someone with, “Death awaits you.”  Because the life that is coming …is even greater.  “See you” in Church.  

About Our Enemies

 Dear Family in Faith,

When I was a child I remember asking my mother, “Who are our enemies?”  We lived in southeastern Kentucky; we often were aware of the evening news; I distinctly remember the “watch parties” for the 1976 Winter Olympic games.  And I was asking so I could know precisely who I should hate. 

My mother, the preacher’s wife, who had grown up in a religiously Lutheran household, whose faith was firm, who seemed to know the struggles of life—including living through the daily realities of Vietnam and by that time the Cold War—seemed to squirm.  As I pressed, and she seemingly was mulling over all her worldly options, she eventually blurted, “Well, maybe the Russians, I guess!” 

So, if the Russians were to be our enemies, we should at least beat them at ice hockey!  And …figure skating …and bobsledding …and whatever else!  Right?

Even as a child, a younger child, I wasn’t going to *hate* the Russians.  It wasn’t because I totally believed Jesus and always followed his instructions to “love my neighbor” and “pray for my enemy.”  Nope.  I wasn’t doing that.  It’s probably, that my most ardent prayer then until now, has always been “for peace on earth.” 

But …I’m not shaped by peace.  Like any young boy, despite not growing up around weapons, I’ve been shaped by dreaming of battles and wars, fighting and bravery, and blowing up enemy weapons and bunkers.  I love John Wayne movies.  I like seeing the bad guys getting what’s coming to them.  I’ll take almost any Clint Eastwood movie before I’ll consider watching the Disney channel.  Yet even in all the glorious victories of war—I also see the agonies of defeat. 

War and violence are not easy.  Though we talk about pinpoint accuracy and surgical airstrikes—the dangers to our bodies and souls are more than bullets, artillery, tanks, and aircraft.  Talk to any brave drone pilots, who deliver weapons from half-a-world away, with a coffee cup and a lunch break, in non-descript office buildings; not to mention those who are sent for live action.  There are times that require brave and honorable action of the highest order because there are always realities of the worst order.  But even for our enemies, it’s always someone’s son or daughter in harms way—even for the very best of reasons and intentions.  

And, like other times, in the images of the violence that unfolded last week in Ukraine, I struggled mightily between my heartfelt desire for “peace on earth” and what seems at the same time, the necessity of taking up arms.  I sat in the crosshairs of daring to believe in Jesus’ love for neighbor being made manifest and my readiness for someone to give the order to put troops on the ground.  And the daring willingness to risk everything for the cause of peace, even war. 

The love of Jesus doesn’t release us from that passion or consequence.  I just hope and believe that our passion for life and love means we take the steps of faith daily, and often, so that peace always has a chance—before, during, and after, what we feel compelled to do in the name of righteousness and for justice and ultimately, for love itself.  And I don’t ever doubt that God is with us in the midst of the messiness of our feelings, of our loves and desires, of life itself, and even when violence is chosen. 

Jesus doesn’t lay down in front of violence.  Jesus doesn’t give in either.  He even dies by violence, so that violence may also be defeated. 

…I think I wanted to know who our enemies were, because I knew at some point, enemies have to become friends. 

…I think that enemies are enemies; but we can become friends—and that changes the world!  And Jesus has a hand in that, too.  He helps us get through the messiness between us, and helps us see it’s clearly more fun being friends! 

…And friends: can build what was broken, and mend what gets knocked down, and can see the world from a better place known as restoration, or resurrection, or wholeness—instead of broken promises and broken realities. 

Hope, even on the tip of a spear?  I believe that too, if for nothing else, Jesus dies on the cross—a public execution, a war-time sign, with the promise of better days are coming.  If death is near, resurrection is not far.  And we don’t know which one or what moments those might be until we see them and choose them for ourselves.  And with God’s help. 

In some of the darkest worst days of the first World War, soldiers paused and sang to one another on Christmas.  It was a start.  Jesus loves us.  Because he does, enemies become friends and we change the world.  We believe all is not lost, that we can all be parts of a solution, and the gathering of joy, and love.  …I’m not shaped by peace, but I believe in it.  I think you do, too.  ”See you” in Church.