Remembering Our Baptism-Pastor Paul's July 5 Newsletter

Dear Friends in Christ,

Not the first time this picture has appeared

on this blog!

I’m guessing you have wondered why I spend so much time talking about the waters of our baptism. You’d have a point. I do spend a lot of time in the water. With the permission of the Worship Committee I have moved the font front and center. Looking down the aisle you see the font then the table then the cross as you enter the sanctuary. I want the kids to splash in the water, whether they have been baptized or not. Especially the ones who have yet to be baptized.

This is the stole I wear every Sunday in Ordinary Time. Those are the weeks between Baptism of the Lord Sunday and Transfiguration Sunday and between Trinity Sunday and Christ the King Sunday. It bears symbols of the two sacraments. On the left is the font symbolizing baptism and on the right is a chalice symbolizing the supper. It was a gift that I was asked to design. I asked for this design so that most of the year I would be able to wear the symbols of the sacramental gifts Jesus gave us.

One of the great joys of serving The Federated Church is weekly celebration of The Lord’s Supper. The congregations I previously served did not, one was downright hostile to celebrating it more than monthly. I think it is important to celebrate this meal often. I’m glad you do too. But what about our baptism?

Baptism is a once in a lifetime event. I have told you I was about four or five months old when I was baptized. I have no means to remember it. In Presbyterian circles this is fine. I like what it says too. It reminds us that God chooses us before we choose God. I like that. I like the UCC and Disciples believer’s baptism too. It says I know what I’m doing. I make this decision. That’s glorious too.

Either way, remembering our baptism is important. This is why I pour the pitcher into the font weekly. This is why we are reminded of the event whether it has happened or is yet to happen. So let us remember the waters of our baptism. Let’s remember what it is like to live wet. Let’s remember what it is like to live a little sloppy. Let’s remember what it is like to bathe in the waters Jesus bathed in before we receive the meal he gave us.

See you in Church!
Pastor Paul

Black Friday into Good Friday

I've been doing a lot of reflection during this Lenten season. That's not all bad, after all, that's one of the goals of Lent. Here's what I know. It has been a rough five years or so.

I won't continue to bore you with the foils of life, just a quick update on the latest. On Labor Day I began a "career" in insurance. I went to work for Bankers Life. SIDE NOTE: Great company, great products, great local agents (speaking for my former co-workers). If you need insurance in East Texas these are the professionals to speak with. They will make an appointment with you, come to your house or business, and get you set up. As for me, well, I couldn't get it to work. I had one good month out of six. My boss tells everyone to give it six months to see if the business is for you and I did. And it wasn't.

God love 'em, but I couldn't make sales to save my life. Getting appointments was difficult. Getting people to be home for their appointments seemed to be even harder. And if you don't talk to people making sales is not going to happen. So I went back to where I was before that, Motel 6 welcomed me home with open arms.

By now some of you are saying, "Don't you say you're a minister in the sidebar of this blog? What's up with that?" Well, that's a long story for another day but let me say the people of First Marshall, my last called appointment, decided to quit meeting together. With that went pay, housing, insurance and so on. There are other blog posts which show my tenuous grasp on mental health went to the other side of the hedge during these last two years. It got to the point that a year ago I had serious doubts that serving another church was in my future. It felt like the church was done with me.

WARNING, DANGER WILL ROBINSON! Don't misunderstand me, I'm not saying God is done with me. I'm saying I thought the humans who call pastors to churches are done with me.

Well praise God, that season in the wilderness is beginning to pass. I don't feel that way any longer. A year or so ago my Spiritual Director looked at me one day and said, "You know, with all of this horrible, even satanic opposition you're facing; when God comes in Glory there's going to be some kind of joy." In the midst of Black Friday this was a pipe dream. On Good Friday this is my hope.

I'm working and getting paid everyday, something commissioned sales can't promise. While we're about to lose where we're staying-for the third time in 18 months-we have a place to go. AND there is a wonderful congregation of people who are praying for me to be their pastor and they don't even know who they are. (AND there's a church checking my references which is VERY, VERY exciting. I won't share more than that to protect their place in their process.)

I want to leave you one thought, one reflection. Join me on that first Black Friday. Imagine being a disciple, an apostle, a follower; now imagine the events of the prior day... There's the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, what we call Palm Sunday. There's the final meal and instructions--what we now call the Last Supper, the Lord's Supper, the Holy Communion, the Eucharist. Then sleep falls on the weary only to be awakened by the sounds of a unit of Legionaries being led by one of their own to arrest the Messiah.

Oh, the trial, Pilate's question "What is truth?" rings in your ears. Jesus is alone, there's nobody with him as his advocate. He is convicted and sentenced. He will die and die horribly. We know that the only earthly difference between us and him is we are not in the hands of Rome, not yet.

Jesus cries, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" The Son of God is fully separated from God. We can't imagine this level of separation even on our worst days. Still, there's more to come and the horror of what that will be brings fear to paralysis. This is the state of Black Friday before the resurrection. The followers of the way don't know what will happen on that day. They're so afraid scripture doesn't even show them wondering. They simply scatter. Contemplation is a luxury when you fear for your life.

But we know this, we know Easter. We know what was Black Friday only once will forever be Good Friday. Today, reflect on the blackness, but rejoice that as the Easter people we know that the Light conquers the dark.

Jesus Wept, Lazarus Laughed, Megan Died, and as for me...

This Sunday's lectionary reading was the raising of Lazarus from the dead. This passage has many wonderful pieces and images, but the most famous is found in the King James Bible at John 11:35. You know it too, "Jesus wept."

Pastor Kemper Huber at St. Andrew Presbyterian Church in Longview, Texas preached a wonderful sermon using the Eugene O'Neill play "Lazarus Laughed". The link provides a synopsis of the show, but here are some highlights from the sermon:

• Lazarus returned
• People asked what it was like to have died
• Lazarus laughed
• He told them death was like life, but fuller, more bountiful
• He continued to laugh.

That became the hallmark of the show, Lazarus laughed in the face of all danger. He had died, what could scare him next? Nothing! In the face of overwhelming odds, in the face of certain death; there was nothing to worry about anymore. This caught on in the household of Lazarus and all throughout Bethany. "Death, where is thy sting?" Yeah, it's all gone.

This wouldn't do for the Roman Prelate. When death and fear of death are your weapons and suddenly there is no more fear of death, your biggest weapon is gone. Lazarus was sent to Rome to go before Caesar.Caesar threatened to have Lazarus killed. You can guess what happened next. Caesar burned Lazarus at the stake. You know what happened the whole time. The show ends with the "most important man in the world" bested by a laughing Jew.

Jesus wept, Lazarus laughed.

Kemper tied the theme of the show, Lazarus laughing at death with Jesus telling the world "Fear not." Christ conquered death. Lazarus shows us in John 11 and Eugene O'Niell shows us in the dramatized version of what happened next. In all of these situations, death is powerless. Christ saves us from mundane death. It's gone, hallelujah!

There was one problem with this. I have a the problem with the sermon, and a problem with the show. It's not a problem with Kemper's theology or even with the play, it's a problem with sin.

There is (at least in some circles) fate worse than death. There are times in the life of some people when "it" (whatever "it" may be) becomes so overwhelming that these people see the sweet release of death preferable to the cold hard existence of life. The people who say "Life's a bitch and then you die," yeah, those people.

Some people decide to get off the train early. The ones who get off before the final stop commit suicide. Death, the bountiful life after this painful life is so very seductive.

Jesus wept, Lazarus laughed, Megan died.

Those of you who have followed this blog know who Megan is. If you don't this link tells more about her and about a much younger me. I remember wondering how horrible Megan felt that she would take her own life. I gave thanks that I never felt that way and prayed I never would. Then six months ago, my world fell apart and I had an idea of how bad she felt. I did not want to feel like I felt another day, another minute, another moment. I knew this was a permanent solution. For those who would add "to a temporary problem," I would invite you to "enjoy the freefall" and tell me it doesn't seem like an idea worth considering.

This is the suicide issue when it comes to the "bountiful life" of death, it's seductive. The pain of life, pain which is too much to carry, is gone. All that's left is new life. Laughter. Yes, Jesus weeps, but Lazarus laughs. It's not healthy. It's not right. It's pretty bad for everyone left behind... but that guilt trip isn't your problem.

While considering all of this another Bible story came to mind, Job. Job's wife, after witnessing the calamity of their life together, suffering the same losses except for the physical boils, finally said "Curse God and die." She told him to commit suicide by use of the Lord. But Job was faithful.

Job's wife chose the sweet release of death for her husband. Job chose a  life to a faithful God despite the horrors of the moment.

Jesus wept, Lazarus laughed, Megan died, and as for me...

As for me, I've gotten a better medical diagnosis. I'm working hard to stay healthy. I'm eating better, exercising and working. I see a counselor and I see a Psychiatrist. I do the medical therapy and I do the talk therapy. I have good days and bad days. I have more good days and my bad days aren't anywhere as bad as they were even six months ago.

Life is far from perfect, but it is better than it was a year ago, far better. Getting better is a process, getting well is a dream, maybe even a pipe dream. Better is a goal. And I do all of this praising my savior who makes it all possible.

Jesus wept, Lazarus laughed, Megan died, and as for me... I am a better man than I was before I knew all of these things. Praise God!

The Relaunch of "Rock and Roll Devotional"

I am happy, overjoyed to announce the relaunch of Rock and Roll Devotional.

It's a blog I started about five or so years ago. Over the years I have had at it in fits and starts. To date, I have about 250 posts written, so I need only about another 115 more to complete the year. Over the past week or so I have actually written four new posts to debut over the year. Some will make an appearance soon, one will debut Christmas Eve!

Another important addition is that this is the first time I will update the blog since my new diagnosis. It will be a chance to compare how I wrote before my new diagnosis and now. You may not notice the difference because you may not remember the older posts... as for me, well I'll see the old and the new; and it excites me.

So, I hope you take the time to check it out. The updates are scheduled to come online at 12:30 Central Time daily. If you like it, take the time to make a note. If you don't take the time to make a note, because that's the only way I can make it better.

If you like it, please click your favorite share button on the social media site of your choice.

God bless y'all, and enjoy!

Pastor Paul's December Newsletter

Dear Friends, sorry for the long time since my last blog post. Marshall has been wild and woolly and I haven't written much more than sermons and emails for about six months. As for this month's message, some of you know this story. If you've known me 25 years you do. Longer than 25, maybe not. Shorter than 25, maybe not. Then again, this story has been on this blog two other times in one form and another.

This isn't an easy story to tell, it may not be an easy story to read. Know that the blessings are available! They are available when we know our stories well enough to share them with the world, like I do here. This is truth, even in the pain. And as I say, see you in Church.
Paul

Dear Friends in Christ,

One of the themes I’ve shared over the past two years is knowing our faith stories. It’s when we know our stories that our faith becomes real. When our faith is real, it matters. When our faith matters, people want to know what makes it so important. So this is a true story. It’s almost twenty-five years old, and it’s mine. The names have not been changed. No one is innocent.

In the summer of 1985, I finished grad school, a Master of Science in Student Personnel (a counselor education degree for higher ed). But as a twenty-three year old with no professional experience in a tight economy I couldn’t find a job in my field. So, I went back to doing what got me through grad school, I went back to work in the bars.

I worked at a club in the Westport district of Kansas City, Missouri called Buzzard Beach. While there I met a girl, her name was Megan. She was home in KC for a couple of semesters from the University of Wyoming because her grandfather was dying. She was taking education classes at the University of Missouri-Kansas City, working at a hardware store, and playing shuffleboard at my bar. To make a long story shorter, I was taken by her. But too soon, in January 1987, she went back to Wyoming to go back to school and in an age long before email, we began exchanging letters.

That summer, she came back for a couple of weeks and when she did, she blew me off completely. I was ticked. Of course, I didn’t say “ticked.” There are bar words and there are church words, and I won’t use the bar words here.

After some time of hurt feelings and a couple of more letters, I came to know that I had fallen in love with her. I decided what I needed to do is put my cards on the table, tell her how I felt, and let what happens happen. It was just before Thanksgiving so I decided it would be best to do this in person instead of in a letter, but I never got the chance. On December 13, 1987 Megan shot herself. When I got the call, I let out a cry that made God himself shudder.

I knew I needed to be forgiven; forgiven for being so angry with her; forgiven for not telling her how I felt; forgiven for not taking responsibility for my feelings and my actions; or inactions really. But I could not find forgiveness, so I ran away and hid.

I hid in work. I hid in a bottle. I hid in plain sight. Finally, I ended up hiding in Lamar, Colorado 81052. About two after Megan’s death, I was running a dormitory at Lamar Community College.

After a few years in Colorado I began to hear that still small voice of the Lord, the one that told me if I was waiting to be “good enough” before going back to church I would never be good enough and I would never go. So one Sunday, I ended up in a pew at the First Presbyterian Church in Lamar and began the journey that brings me to you today. But since that’s another story I’ll finish this one first.

I attended regularly and began reading my bible. I started to learn about grace and forgiveness. But one thought haunted me: No matter how hard I tried to deal with my guilt, it never went away. Truth be known, I was probably giving it away with my right hand and taking it right back with the left.

One night, at a Presbyterian revival service (yeah, a Presbyterian revival—it may be an oxymoron, but it’s still a true story) the pastor spoke on forgiveness. He preached on Matthew’s version of the Lord’s Prayer with special attention to 6:15, “but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

Don’t get me wrong, I understood, to be forgiven I would have to forgive. But what did I have to forgive her for? She was the one who was in so much pain that she thought the only way out of it was to kill herself. What did I possibly have to forgive her for? Then, by the grace of God, I was given an answer: I had to forgive her for forgetting. I had to forgive her for forgetting about her family, her friends, and I had to forgive her for forgetting about me. I had to forgive her for leaving. I had to forgive her. And in that moment, after nearly eight years of mourning, I did.

And at that moment, I don’t know if you heard the angelic choir or not, but at the moment I forgave, by the grace of God, I was forgiven too. I had held onto my mourning and sorrow for so long, when the weight was lifted I knew I was in the presence of God. At that moment, I was in a holy place in my life.

Wonderfully, just a few months later, I met Marie. If I had met her any earlier I wouldn’t have been ready. She would have known it, and life as I know it would have been without the love I know today. Thank God I didn’t meet Marie one minute before I was ready to meet her.

Megan’s mom came to Colorado for our wedding. Megan’s sister Jenny caught Marie’s bouquet. During the reception dance I thanked her for coming. And I told her that I am a better man, and will be a better husband, for having known her daughter.

I say that this is my story, but in truth it’s more than that. First of all, I have many more stories than this one, but this one is important and it was once the dominant story of my life. But more importantly, it isn’t my story, it’s God’s story. The Lord gave it to me so that I can share a personal story of grace and forgiveness.

So, what’s your story? Some folks have a big dramatic story like this one. I love the people whose story begins with “I have known the Lord all my life, so I really don’t have a big dramatic story.” Lightening moments are dramatic, but the peace that is beyond all understanding is just as glorious.

So what is the story the Lord has given you? When people ask how your faith shapes you these are the kind of things they want to hear. I’ll finish with something I said on November 11: “Jesus doesn’t want us to share the Book of Order with the world; he wants us to share the joy of our relationship with God in three persons, the Father, the Son and the Spirit. He wants us to share our relationship with God who is right here, up-close and personal. He wants us to share our relationship with God who loves the world so much he gave his only begotten son.”  This can only begin when we know our stories.

See you in church,

Paul