Playing and Passing it on

Last night I was reminded of a story from my youth. Really there was no good reason to be reminded of this story, but I remembered it with a smile and I have so few of them I felt it was worth sharing.

When I was little and we would go to visit my Grandmother in Mexico, MO. When we got there I would immediately go next door to visit Kenny, the son of the next door neighbor. He was about six or seven years older than me and we would play. We'd play football or tag or just go to the park across the street. He made me my first pair of stilts and watched me bruise my knees and elbows until I finally found my balance. Success was sweet. It was a good time and what was fun was that this was an older guy letting me hang out with him. Good fun.

Eventually he got older. This meant girls and cars and a job and less time for me. I was sad, but I was getting older and I understood. I was kind of sad, but I understood. That was when I met his little cousin Matt.

I was about six or seven years older than Matt and when I would come to town we would play together. We'd play football or tag or just go to the park across the street. More than anything else though, we'd wrassle around a lot. I'd let him crawl all over me, try out new holds and find his balance and his strength. It was a good time and what was fun was that he found an older guy who was letting him hang out. Good fun.

And he became an All-State Wrestler in Missouri.

When we were in our twenties, I was sitting on his grandfather's front porch, Kenny's front porch so long ago, and he told me how much fun it was playing so long ago. He asked why I did it. He asked what he could do to pass it on. I told him about Kenny. I asked him if he did the same thing with a little brother or cousin or neighbor and he said yes, he did. I told him he passed it on without even knowing it. Shoot, I passed it on and didn't know I was passing it on. I was just playing.

So here's the thing. Be in the moment. Play. You may be passing on something you don't even know you're passing on. As for Kenny, was he passing it on or did he start a ball rolling that may still be rolling today? The only answer I have for this is yes, and I'm glad he did.

Pastor Paul's Newsletter Article for August 1

The name I have given my newsletter article may seem a little cutesy, or maybe offensive, but then again, that is one of the lessons that can be taken from this newsletter article. The fact that what is "evangelistic" to some or "cute" to me is offensive to others. Either way, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

Paul’s Letter to the Church at Weatherford...

Dear Friends in Christ,

Have you ever seen something that you thought was in such bad taste, so offensive that you want to shake your head and run? If not, check out this artwork from a revival held here in Weatherford a month or so ago. There was song. There were talks. There was even a raffle where they gave away a new hunting rifle with scope, yes a “Rifle Raffle.”

I have nothing against hunting but I’m not a hunter. I love venison sausage! I have a friend who makes a good venison chili. This is a hunter who uses every bit of the animals he harvests. The animals he takes give their lives for the man’s family and the families of the people who receives gifts of meat and hide.

The opposite of this is the man who buys a ticket to a far off land, buys the services of a Sherpa or safari leader, and is taken where animals gather to create the illusion of a hunt. You’ve seen the pictures, uber rich guys over a leopard or some such animal. Even worse are places like bird farms that lure birds for “hunters” to shoot. These birds are often funneled into small areas to make it even easier for hunters.

One takes life to sustain life, the other hunts for the power and vanity of taking a life. And that’s the difference, isn’t it? Christ came and gave his life to sustain life. The gospels tell us, “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Mark 10:45)

Still, there’s something about the visual of the “Cross in the Cross-Hairs” that makes me uncomfortable.

Yet, the image of Christ giving his life, voluntarily upon the cross, is the image we have. Christ gave his life not so we can survive, but so we can thrive living in relationship with God and with one another. That image should be disturbing too, but we’re used to it. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to “Rifle Raffle.”

God bless, see you in church--Paul

Editing

Welcome to our bedroom...

You mean this is what he looks at when
he could be petting me? I don't get it.

One of the things Marie has done for as long as I have been preaching is reading the sermons. She makes sure my grammar and syntax are good. She makes sure the prose flows. And she makes sure I don't say anything stupid. Thanks be to God for that last one.

The other day she was looking over a sermon and went to get something and when she did, O'Neill, the cat whose curiosity will one day introduce him to doom, was found like this. Marie had her phone and the results speak for themselves, what a great shot!

I think this would be perfect for a caption contest... you can see mine.  Marie thinks he was editing along with her, and gave it three paws up. Add your comment and be sure to share with your friends. No prizes unless you think a good laugh is a prize.

Mental Health

A funny thing happened last month. Actually, it wasn't so funny. It was pretty scary. Life caught up with me. Life caught up with me and I didn't know what to do next. Actually that wasn't quite true... I had a "good idea" of what to do next, but having taken a class in crisis counseling I knew what I was thinking wasn't a "good idea."

I guess there had been signs of depression going on for a long time. I had found several different ways to deal with it over the years. I could go on for several paragraphs and describe the dozens of ways I have practiced self-therapy and self-medicating over the years. I even met with reasonable success. Reasonable being the key word. But last month the whole thing came tumbling down.

In November I became totally and wholly nonfunctional. I told my counselor what was happening and she told me it was time for me to go to the hospital. I was in no position to disagree. I guessed the depression had finally gotten such a hold on me that I had to do something right before I did something wrong.

Saying yes to help wasn't easy, I probably should have said something months earlier but didn't. But when I finally did say yes, it was the best thing I ever did.

To make a long story short, my diagnosis changed. My diagnosis is no longer simple depression. I am now diagnosed as Bipolar II. In short, that means that I have depression, sometimes serious bouts of depression (this helps explain some of my blog posts, especially the "Lies My Father/Mother Told Me" series) with hypomania. Hypomania is a version of mania which is not euphoric mania but a version that shows up as strangely energetic, talkative, assertive, creative, and productive behavior. Sometimes hypomania can also lead to questionable behavior... like some of my more dubious jokes.

I share this for a several reasons. The first is this, I am healing. That's the most wonderful thing I can say. I am on the way to feeling the best I have felt in my life. Therapy and medication are doing wonders. The second is that this is a process. Like everyone else on earth I will have good days and bad days. And now I have better tools to deal with them than I had even three months ago. This will also make me a better Pastor one day too. I have seen what the bottom looks like.

I also want to say thanks to my family and friends who took care of Marie and me while I was in the hospital and while I have been unemployed. You have been a joy to us.

Finally, I want to share because I want you to be aware. You know someone who is Bipolar. Fear Not! Or at least don't fear me. I'm not going to snap and bite your head off. I'm not going to go postal. I may not be just like everybody else, but there is one thing I know, I'm still me. I'm Paul. I'm the fat man in the bathtub. And I'm glad you came to my blog.

Enjoy.

A Truth I Once Told my Brother-in-Law

My next-to next-to last Brother-in-Law once told me this story. You'll need a little background information to understand the whole thing.

My older sister and her then husband once worked for a couple of friends who ran a business called TableTenders. TableTenders was a company that supplied servers for banquets. If you were a caterer and you had an event and you needed people to take care of serving the food and picking up afterward, you called TableTenders. They were sub-contractors who helped caterers serve the food.

A friend of my sister's then husband (MSTH) worked for the company too. She was suddenly in huge financial trouble. Her husband, a KCMO Firefighter decided to divorce her. He left her and the home and he left her to fend with their three children. Suddenly she was living hand to mouth with her kids and didn't know what to do next.

This went on for a while, certainly long enough that she was in emotional and financial distress and he bought a big motorcycle.

One day, the Firefighter was out on his bike, lost control, and hit a wall. He was killed instantly. What he hadn't done though is finish the divorce proceedings. All of their property was now her property. She was the recipient of his insurance and pension too because he didn't change any of the paperwork.

As this was happening, one of the owners of TableTenders was selling their half of the business. She took the proceeds of the insurance and bought half of the business. Suddenly this woman went from living on the edge to becoming an entrepreneur. She went from being economically marginal to being a small business owner.

So, MSTH asked, "Paul, help me out here. What's the moral of this story."

I told him "The moral of this story is not for her, and it's not for him, it's for you and me: We will all have mid-life crises, we must handle them better than this."

Friends, we must all do it better than this.

Lies My Father Told Me, Mother's Edition

Not long after I found out about my Father's other family, my mother asked me how I was dealing with it. I told her that while there was a lot to chew on, ultimately it was all done. I love my father and he loves me. She was happy with that answer. It wasn't until her funeral that I discovered why.

As our mother fought on her deathbed, a fight that we knew would be fruitless, my sisters went looking for the will. They were trying to get all of the paper ducks in a row before the big moment. It was the right thing to do, but it doesn't come without its pitfalls. In fact, my older sister didn't find the will for another couple of days, but she did find some other paperwork. This is how she discovered that our father wasn't the only one who had a previous spouse, my mother had a first husband too. Now for the big question? The one that still causes us to scratch our collective heads? Who is my sister's father? Is it husband #1 or husband #2. She doesn't know. None of us know.

The day after my mother died we met with the pastor about the service. By this time my older sister was racked with questions but I was still oblivious. Pastor Terry asked if there was anything we wanted to tell our mother. My sister bit her tongue, but the thought raged through her mind, "Hell yes, I've got something I'd like to tell you!" She told me this story that evening... with a big bottle of whiskey.

So what's the lie? Your secrets die with you. Trust me, that ain't so. And by this little secret, my sister now wonders about most of the parenting decisions our folks made, and how it colored her parenting. Here's a hard truth, sometimes the truth sucks. Theologically I'd say that's the nature of sin. Any way the wind blows, it's lies and the nature of lies that gum up the whole system, especially when we think we can take the whole kit-and-caboodle all the way to our graves.

...and people wonder why I have trust issues.

Lies My Father Told Me, Volume 2

Here's an old chestnut, "We're all one big happy family." In a way it wasn't a lie, it was an omission of important facts. You know, a lie.

We were a model Johnson County, Kansas family--Dad, Mom, two daughters and one son.  Demographically, we were the perfect '60's family. Now, don't get me wrong, it wasn't all tea and cakes. The neighborhood we lived is was pretty nice. Residential, school right down the street, no real poverty, but we seemed to have less than everyone else on the block. Still, I had my bike and Lincoln Logs and baseball cards and the Boy Scouts, we weren't rich, but by no means were we poor. Still, we really had to stretch a buck. Dad worked a series of odd jobs along with his regular job at TWA. He took wedding photos, he cleaned businesses, he even worked on the railroad.

That cooled down after we all tuned eighteen or so. My dad and I would even take walks and stop for coffee and pie along the way. One night he told me the story of a woman he met when he was in the Air Force. He seemed to be far away while telling the story, kind of like a man and the one who got away. I asked, "So why did you marry mom instead of her?" I was curious, son to father I was curious.

I don't really remember what he said, he mumbled, he started off with "Well..." and there didn't seem much to hold onto. Curious, but it that's all I'm gonna get then that's all I'm gonna get. Then for my 30th birthday I got a dose of the truth.

You see, he did marry that woman, they had two sons. For my 30th birthday I got two half-brothers. Surprise!

There it was, the elephant in the room. Why were we the poor people in Johnson County? (BTW-there are many worse places to be "the poor people.") It's because we weren't a family of three, we were a family of five. Of course my dad had to work his ass off, but since my folks never shared those little facts we just thought dad was never home. It wasn't that he wasn't there for us, he was so busy taking care of our family and his other family that he wasn't there for anybody.

You see, he lied about his other family because he believed it wasn't good for either family to be enmeshed with the other. In the end what this lie cost me was two brothers and my father. He did it for the sake of the children, and in the end it did not.

My dad tried and he was wrong. Maybe that's one of the great lessons of parenting, you will be wrong. Then again that's the lesson of being a child, your parents tried not to screw up--even though they did they tried not to.

Ultimately the product of the lie is that I never got to know what was going on and am none the better for it.

A Defensive Lament

I was recently told that I embarrassed myself. I didn't know that I had embarrassed myself, but I did and was graciously told what I did. I did it too, guilty as charged!

It's true, you can take a boy out of managing a bar, have him work in higher education for ten years, send him to seminary for over three, and put him in the pulpit for seven more years and when the $#it hits the fan, well, you get the point.

It's been a tough few months here at Chez Paul et Marie. A couple of weekends ago it got to me and I dropped a few "F" bombs in places they did not need dropping. The biggest problem with people who "overhear" stuff is that context is invariably lost. I was in a bad place personally, I was asked to share, and I did so with a strafing motion. It was all directed at myself (which isn't particularly healthy, but that's for another post), but when folks overhear and all they see is the bomb, they don't know how or why it's falling.

I confess my sin and I thank the person who shared it with me. I will also add that once the grapevine reported to her she told me. I honor her for that because it wasn't easy, she told me so. She did what others would not, she told me.

So, what did she do right?

• She came to me calmly.
• She told me what's what.
• She came in care and concern and love and honor and respect not just for me but for the people who shared with her.

What could I say but thank you?

I lament and I regret my potty mouth. That's a fact. The bad news is this is as close to a direct apology I can make because I don't know who's talking about me behind my back. Is this the "defensive" part? Maybe. Have I got more? Yes, but that's just me trying to get my camel through the eye of the needle.

All I can ask now is that you forgive me

Only in Cub Scout Baseball

It's been a long time since I just told a story, and this one came back to me recently because of a friend who has returned to my life.

Moishe Sachs and I went to grade school and were in Cub Scouts together. Among the things we did was play Cub Scout Baseball. Let me add that I was awful! There's no other word, for the first two years I could not put the bat on the ball. I was just that bad.

One day we were playing and Moishe's dad Fred was calling balls and strikes behind the plate. All of the dads had to put on the mask at least once and that day was Mr. Sach's day. I was in the batter's box. I don't remember if there was anybody on base but I don't think so. The pitch came toward the plate, but it was a bit inside. I decided to stand tough, not move a muscle as it came below my hands.

Well, I misgauged the pitch, it was inside, but just a little higher than I thought. It hit the knob of the bat and rolled half way back to the pitcher. Well, I figured that I didn't swing so it wasn't a hit and it didn't hit me so I didn't get the free base. Everyone else must have thought the same thing because nobody moved. I didn't even hear anything from the parents' gallery.

Then Mr. Sachs said the magic words, "Fair ball." I didn't think it was a hit but I don't have to be told twice. I ran for the bag and the pitcher ran for the ball. The ball got away from the first baseman, so not only did I reach first--I got to second on the throw.

The Butt-Bunt was born. I might have been lousy, but people who were good never had stories like this one. They have enough sense to get out of the way.

God bless you Mr. Sachs. God bless you Moishe.

Pastor Paul's September Newsletter Article

Dear Friends in Christ,

Along with most of the Session Members who will serve this congregation next year, I recently attended the Presbytery’s Regional Leadership Development Training. There was a workshop on Officer Training that was a little history, a little theology, and a little rules and regulations. Another workshop was about Stewardship, especially how stewardship is not fundraising—it’s an exercise in discipleship. The third was on Church Transformation. This is the one I want to talk about here.

At the start of the workshop, the leader shared Matthew 16:13-14

When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?”

They replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”

Then he asked us to think about our congregations and answer this question, “Who do the people say that we are?” There were all sorts of answers coming from all over East Texas, some of them weren’t very complementary. People know the way the grapevine works and they were hearing some very sour things.

He then challenged us to change gears with verse 15 just like Jesus challenged his disciples:

“But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?”

He challenged us to take the turn again asking who we as the leaders of the church say that we are. This is where the workshop began to soar. Some say we are caring, others say we are giving. Some say we are welcoming. Others say we are aging. There were some encouraging words and others that were pointed.

He challenged us to know and remember the stories of the Body of Christ. As for this part of that body the Jesse Walker Bells and the Joe McDonald crosses. It includes the Dubach’s and the Abrahams’.

It’s the story of how the children used to hit up the men of the church for camp donations on the steps while they were trying to have a smoke before worship in peace. It’s the story of Glen Newberg ringing the Sunday School bell so people would get to worship—and ring it again when people wouldn’t get along into the sanctuary.

It’s the story behind the name “Ladies of the Evening Circle.” It’s the story behind the smiles you seen when someone says, “I’m confuuuused!” It’s the story of the first thing Miss Constance said to me after my first Sunday as your pastor. (Please ask me, I love to tell that story!”)

It’s the story of baptisms and confirmations and weddings and funerals and living everyday together faithfully. It’s the story of living in relationship with one another and with our Lord and God.

What was most interesting from the session was when people were asked why they worshiped at the church they worshipped, the answers were family, friends, and relationships. Nobody said that the reason they attended was because “Presbyterian polity spoke to me on a deep theological level.”

We worship a Lord who came became like us in every way except for the way of sin. The Lord Jesus calls us to come and join him in a better relationship with him, with the Triune God, and with one another. This was the message of Church Transformation, we must allow our relationships with God and with one another to transform us. We get to tell the old stories. We get to write new stories.

And there is one story we must never forget. It’s the story all Christians share. It begins with Matthew 16:15 and ends at 17:

“But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?”

Simon Peter answered, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

Jesus replied, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by man, but by my Father in heaven.”

This is our joy, this is our blessing, this is our story. God sent Jesus to Earth to be in full relationship with the people so that we can be in full relationship with one another. Let this transform us and this part of the body of Christ.

See you in worship!

Paul

What Doesn't Make It Into a Sermon

When I was writing the sermon last week, I began with a bit on what it takes to write a sermon. Frankly, it didn't belong in the sermon so it never made it there. This is a good thing. But still, I believe there are some words that may be valuable about the creation of "the interpretation of the Word of God."

Hope you enjoy... of course if you don't there are those "reaction buttons" at the bottom of the page and as always, a place for comments.

There are days when writing the sermon is easy. Those are days to be reckoned. No matter how easy the gospel seems to be, no matter how easy the words seem to come, the easy sermons are always the ones that lead us into peril.

The hazards of the sermon make themselves known in many ways. Some days they come up as a just a surface rendering of scripture. These days the sermon is like a wood veneer on some sort of cabinet. The outside says it’s oak, but on the inside it’s just so much sawdust and glue. It looks sturdy, but in truth, once the rubber meets the road, it’s not durable at all.

Another way the sermon can become a hazard is when the sermon is all sunshine and flowers. The opposite side of this same coin is when the sermon is nothing but doom and gloom. Neither of these sermons can carry the full weight of the gospel of Jesus Christ. One of them discounts the reality of sin and devastation while the other foregoes the reality of grace and redemption. The promises made by both of these sermons are incomplete. Yes, there is sin and devastation and there is grace and redemption, but one without the other is imperfect.

There is another quality to the sermon which when neglected causes the word of God to sound like a banging gong or crashing cymbal, a lack of love. The better way to say that for this situation is a lack of pastoral care.

Extending that musical instrument metaphor, I know that God will use me as his instrument. In God’s way, one of the extremes of how I will be used as his instrument is like a fine Stradivarius violin. This instrument, in the hands of a master will be in total harmony. The music will be finely tuned. The melody will be exquisite. The song will give glory to the one who plays it. In fact, while the Stradivarius is the finest violin ever made, its only glory comes from the one who plays it.

The other extreme is that God can play me like a cowbell; a one note, 1-2-3-4, hit-it-hard, keep-the-time cowbell. It’s useful. It keeps time as well as the one who hits it, and if it’s the Lord our God banging on the cowbell, it will be perfect. Of course, there are other ways to keep time. If all I can be in the pulpit is a cowbell, then the Lord can easily have me replaced.

In short, I need to approach sermons, and all of life, in a pastoral way. A way that glorifies God, shares the Gospel with the world, and sends us into the world to live the life God wants us to live. Let’s just say that this week; I have been played like a cowbell, hoping not to preach God’s word with the substance and nutritional value of cotton candy

Pastor Paul's August Newsletter Article

Dear Friends in Christ,

Today that salutation is particularly appropriate. I consider everyone who receives this newsletter to be a friend in Christ.

Some of you are far, far away from our beloved Marshall, Texas. You have long been faithful to this part of the body of Christ, longer than I have been alive. You have been faithful to this part of the body of Christ over the tenures of many pastors. You have been faithful at times when you have been the pastors to this part of the body of Christ. You are saints of this congregation even in absence.

Some of you have been doing God’s work in this part of the Body of Christ for a long time and are still active. You are the people who have served as Elders, Sunday School Teachers, and volunteers. You are the saints who serve everyday, many with nary a notice. You are the saints of this congregation and you are noticed.

Some of you are new to the area. You have been a part of the community for a year and even less. You are like Marie and I; we have been here less than two years. As I type that I think wow, two years… It’s not long at all and the time has just flown! These are the new saints of this congregation.

There have been lots of changes too. There have been weddings and there have been births. There has been great sadness too, grieving for those who have died. These are the saints in the church triumphant.

All of this talk of the saints may seem out of place, but it is not. In his many letters, Paul referred to the believers as “saints.” Especially at the ends of his epistles Paul asks the recipients of these letters to pray for the saints in…such-and-such a place. It may not seem usual, but it is real. It is true. Those who believe are saints—now and forever.

Friends in Christ, some are near and some are far. Some of you I see often, some of you not often enough. Friends in Christ, those of you who are far away I miss and hope to see soon. Friends in Christ, those of you who are near I hope to see soon. Saints of Christ, faithful followers of the Lord, I hope to see you soon.

See you soon,
Pastor Paul

Pastor Paul's June Newsletter Article

Dear readers, this is a particularly long writing for both a newsletter article and blog post. I pray you forgive me as I believe the subject matter deserves and needs these words. God bless you as you read and as always, please comment if you desire. ~Paul

Dear Friends in Christ,

Many of you are aware from the local newspaper and the coffee shop that the First Presbyterian Church in Longview has split. Many are leaving to form a new Evangelical Presbyterian Church congregation and the remaining members are staying to make a go of it in the historic First Presbyterian building.

Many of you also know that our own Harriette Malcolm has served as Clerk for the Presbytery’s Administrative Commission for First Longview. Now that the Pastors who served that church have demitted (sorry, church jargon—set aside/renounced) their PC(USA) ordinations Harriette is now Clerk of their Session. This will continue until the remaining members of the First Presbyterian Church in Longview elect a new Session and Clerk.

A couple of weeks ago, there was a Presbytery meeting in Dallas to discuss some things including the formation of that Administrative Commission. A meeting that could have been finished in an hour (including 40 minutes of worship) took three. It took that long because people were hurt and wanted their pain known and acknowledged.

Friends in Christ, any time a church faces a split there is pain. Few congregations in the Presbytery know that better than this one after a split over twenty-five years ago. There are still members of this part of the Body of Christ who feel that pain intimately. It is the Church’s version of a civil war where brothers and sisters and parents and children fight on opposite sides of the line, or in the case of the church the aisle. It is horrible. It is terrible. But as for the question of whether or not it can be prevented, well, the answer to that just might be no.

The Rev. Bruce Reyes-Chow was the Moderator of the 218th General Assembly in San Jose. He is also a prolific writer and noted speaker on technology and the church. In a recent article the Rev. Reyes-Chow quoted Dr. Fred Heuser, Executive Director of the Presbyterian Historical Society, about the history of splits and reunions among Presbyterians. Dr. Heuser writes:

The conflict and divisiveness within the PC (USA) today is part of a broader pattern that is deeply rooted in our past. The “flash points” that have produced these conflicts may be different, but the underlying tensions that birthed them are remarkably similar.

The Rev. Reyes-Chow believes that we are in such a time. He continues, “Our struggle now is to move away from the many adversarial postures that exist and acknowledge that God may indeed be working through and in all of us during these days of denominations shifts.” [Italics mine.]

The way I read it, the former Moderator of the General Assembly is saying that we need to move from fighting one another because God may well be calling some folks out of the Presbyterian Church (USA) to do the work of the Body of Christ on Earth and calling others to stay and do the work of the Body of Christ on Earth.

To me, that sounds horribly painful. It also begs the question, “Can schism bring glory to God?” Actually, that’s not such a good question. It puts human work (schism) before God’s work. This is never a winning concept. Maybe this is a better question, “Can God do something glorious despite this schism?” That isn’t so good either. This question fails to remember that God does not love us “despite who we are” (sinful creatures). Instead we must remember that God loves us because of who we are, his children.

It’s as easy as that, God loves us because we are his children.

So the better question is “Can God do something glorious through this schism?” I believe the answer is yes. God meets us where we are, even on the battlefields we put up in our sanctuaries, Presbyteries, and General Assemblies. God’s overflowing love is greater than our understanding.

Granted, none of these things relieves us of the bitter realities of our feelings. Those who were here during the split know this too well. The pain of watching family leaving may be as fresh as a newly formed scab, a scar yet to be made. Others remember the pain. Even though the scab has long peeled away and the scar faded, even if just a little. Others just remember what caused it. The Rev. Reyes-Chow tells us not ignore that pain:

Now of course, this does not mean that I do not care or do not grieve the loss of the denominational relationships with those who are leaving, but I also do not begrudge anyone or have an overwhelming urge to fight to make people stay when they are feeling like this is no longer a good place for them. What I am trying to do is to be gracious in the face of frequent castigation (castigation means criticism. -Paul) and loving as I see colleagues move into a new denominational relationship; all the while, remaining committed and faithful to my part in discerning what it means to be the Presbyterian Church (USA) today and into the future.

There is grief and sorrow and pain over the departures. But what the Rev. Reyes-Chow tells us is that he doesn’t and we mustn’t act on the all too human urge to fight with or hold grudges against those who leave. Let them be committed to who they are being called to be and we will continue to be who we are committed to be. We need to do this with grace, not with a chip.

Now he also points out that when there is separation there are other questions to be worked out; questions that end up being asked and answered by church and civil, lawyers and accountants. Every legal split has its arguments about who gets the house and the stuff, but that is not the focus of his article nor this one.

This is a time to grieve the loss of PC(USA) relationships. This is a time to grieve the loss of church friends. It is not a time for hate or spite or distrust to overwhelm the truth that Christ is Lord of ALL. Regardless of any view of “us and them,” Christ is Lord of ALL. Because Christ is Lord of all, we can forgive those who have hurt us, and there is a lot of hurt going around among the current and former members of First-Longview and with in the denomination.

This is our call to continue living out the Gospel of Jesus Christ, regardless of where we do it. We can do this with grief. We can do this with sorrow. We can never do this with hate.

See you in Church,
Paul

For the link to Rev. Bruce Reyes-Chow's full blog post, click here.
For the link to  Dr. Fred Heuser's full article, click here.

Pastor Paul's May Newsletter Article

Dear Friends in Christ,

God is mysterious. With this in mind, a few years ago the denomination found a burning need to examine scripture to see what images the Bible uses to describe the persons of the Trinity. It was released in a report called, “The Trinity: God’s Love Overflowing.” They knew this was going to raise some hackles, which is why they stuck very closely to what the bible says. Here’s one example from that list:

As we are born anew by water and the Spirit, the Triune God is Compassionate Mother, Beloved Child, and Life-giving Womb

(Isaiah 49:15; 66:13; Matthew 3:17; Isaiah 46:3).

Of course the committee knew this, along with some of the other images they discovered, was going to raise a ruckus. Feminine imagery for God, no matter how biblical, is quite uncommon. I mention this because as a “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit” kind of pastor, I need to remember that scripture contains other Trinitarian images that are biblical and important.

With this I say, Happy Mother’s Day. I use this preface because while we are used to seeing the face of God as the Father, God loves us and protects us and keeps us like a Mother too. In Mothers we see the strength of God. In Mothers we see life and life giving. In Mothers we see the face of God. By the grace of God, we are blessed by our mothers. We are also blessed by a Lord who (in 1970’s speech) is in touch with his feminine side.

The report contains this prayer—

In praising the Triune God we use biblical language, both classic –

Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

and surprising –

Mother, Child, and Womb.

We may use words that speaks of the inner relations of the Godhead –

Lover, Beloved, Love,

and those that speak of the loving activity of the Three among us –

Creator, Savior, Sanctifier,

Rock, Redeemer, Friend,

King of Glory, Prince of Peace, Spirit of Love.

Happy Mother’s Day! God bless Mothers—for you show us the face of God.

See you in church,

Paul

A Gift Buyer's Guide to Mother's Day?

Mother's Day is a little less than two weeks away, so two local merchants here in Marshall, Texas are here to remind you it's not too soon to shop for that perfect gift.

On the way to work a Home Health Care Supply store has this sign--

Lift Chairs

for

Mother's Day

I guess that's because nothing says love like "Ma, you're so fat..." or "Ma, your knees are so badly shot that I got you a lift chair! Happy Mother's Day!"

I felt that way until today when I went to the pharmacy where the bags were stamped

Happy

Mother's

Day

I guess that's because nothing says love like, "Here ya go Ma, stay on your meds!"

Please, do better than that for your Mother this Mother's Day... unless she asks for a lift chair or meds. Then it's up to you!

Love Today and Love Tomorrow

Just a few minutes ago I was leaving Walmart. Marie needed feminine hygiene products and pure corn starch baby powder, preferably lavender scented. I went in at the Garden Center entrance because the stuff was closest to that entrance and it usually has a very short line. So I got the stuff and headed to checkout.

A moment later, a man got in line behind me. He couldn't have been older than 24 or so. He had a single stem rose, Hallmark card, and two bean bag style stuffed animals. I looked at the scene and started laughing. And in the Garden Center my laugh roars. I looked at him and smiled.

Finally I looked at him, nodding toward his purchases and said, "Valentines Day today," and holding up my purchases, "Valentines Day in fifteen years." We enjoyed the laugh... until he wondered if it would happen to him and I told him not to worry, it will.

On a side note, I got Marie a lovely card, one of the best I've ever seen, and two compact discs she has wanted for months. I gave them to her this morning. On top of that, when she says "pads and baby powder" she trusts I'll get the right stuff, now that's love.

And yes, I did get the right pads and baby powder. Happy Valentines to all you lovers out there--whether it's been a short time, 15 years, or 115 years. God bless and enjoy the love of your life.

Standing Up for a Super Model

Yeah, I'm defending a super model. You've seen this somewhere either on the tube or online, I'm sure. Here's the take from TMZ...

Well, let me make a couple of points.

• It was a private moment in a public space.
• Yes, she was being goaded.
• She didn't "know" she was being recorded.
• Yeah, she should have known better thank to think she wasn't being recorded but...
• Frankly, she wasn't completely wrong.

In the end, she was doing what any guy can hope his Brazilian super model wife would do for him. She was standing by her man in the face of rowdy hooligans (an American football version of hooligan, mind you). If your teammates can't handle that your wife doesn't know "the code" of not talking down your teammates then apologize for her. Tell them you're sorry she lit the fuse, but she's just a feisty, long-legged, hot-blooded Brazilian super model and you can see her apology "in full" in the next Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition.

So in honor of Gisele standing by her Tommy, I give you The Blues Brothers. Enjoy.

Pastor Paul's January 2012 Newsletter Article

Dear Friends in Christ,

Hymn #296 in the brown hymnal is “Count Your Blessings.” It’s not a bad idea to count your blessings early and often, and the end of the year is a great time to reflect on what kind of year it has been.

It’s been pretty hectic at our house. Marie was admitted to the hospital a couple of times because her ailments fired up. Then there was our car wreck, that was a joy, but when these things came together, something else happened.

When Marie saw the doctor the doctor noted something kind of funny when looking at the back of her eye. From there the doctor ordered more tests. These tests showed something that looked puzzling, so she (she is our doctor) sent Marie to a neurologist for more tests.

Well, getting the tests done was a comedy of errors. Between the doctors and the insurance setting up her appointments looked like three clowns juggling flaming Indian clubs in the circus. What a mess! Well the appointments were had and the diagnosis was confirmed, Marie has been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. But here’s what’s special…

The last tests, the ones that took so long to get arranged, showed that her spine was not involved with the disease. Right now, it’s limited to her brain. Sure, we would have loved to hear the words “miraculous cure,” but that was not to be. So if that’s not available we’ll take “contained” every day of the week.

Here’s the big kicker, we may not have done these tests, and we would not have done these tests this fall, if it were not for a car wreck. I’m not going to say that the Holy Spirit arranged for me to crack up the car so Marie could get diagnosed (others may, I wouldn’t), but I must say that this diagnosis and early treatment are blessings that flowed from a car wreck.

Simeon’s blessing from Luke 2 includes the words that as Jesus is salvation—not just for Israel but also for the Gentiles—he is also destined to cause “falling and rising” in Israel. In the midst of Simeon’s blessing, Mary also hears that “her soul will be pierced by a sword.” What a lousy way to end a blessing. “He is God’s own salvation for the world and there will also be pain, grief and sorrow.” That is where I think about Hymn #296, “Count Your Blessings”:

When upon life’s billows you are tempest tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

Count your blessings, name them one by one,
Count your blessings, see what God hath done!
Count your blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.

I wouldn’t say “C’mon, buck up! Look on the bright side!” to someone in the midst of a crisis, that’s lousy pastoral care, but let me say this, in the heart of the greatest blessings, life is not going to be just peaches and cream. In the blessings of our lives there will be pain and there will be disappointment. Our choice is how we deal with them.

Friends, choose the life of the blessings of Christ. Picking to dwell on the disappointments will only make us more in tune with them. Given a choice, dwelling on the blessings is far better than dwelling on the disappointments; and the choice is ours.

God Bless!
Have a Blessed and Happy New Year!

See you in church!
Pastor Paul

Life Sized Gaps

Looking for a sermon illustration about houses, I got out my Shel Silverstein books. Looking at my copy of "Falling Up" (Harper Collins, 1996) I find this inscription dated May 1996:

For Daniel,

Congratulations on your successful transition to Casis and on your wonderful fourth grade report card.

Here's to your continued success.

With lots of love, Dad. 

I read this and it makes me want to cry. I purchased this from Half Price Books (HPB) in Austin, Texas in mid-2004, a little over eight years after it was given as a gift, as a reward from father to son. Daniel would have been about seventeen years old when I purchased the book. Today, for the first time in several years I opened it up to find the inscription again.

Who are Daniel and who are Dad? I don't know. Why did this book come to HPB? What happened in those eight years when a father purchased this book and when I purchased it? There's a gap in there that's that is life-sized; two lives for that matter, and probably several more. My mind wanders.

Was Daniel angry at Dad? Was there a painful divorce and selling this book was like pulling a splinter for a young man? Did Daniel die and a grief stricken family couldn't handle seeing his books another day? Did Daniel and his family just need the four bucks he could get from HPB?

I don't know the answer to any of these questions, I don't even know all of the questions. It makes me wonder, and it makes me sad that a once treasured memento is now now in my hands. So Dad and Daniel, I pray all is well with you today. I pray your hopes and dreams are being realized everyday. Take care and know your book is being cared for.

August's Newsletter Article

A couple of weeks ago, I was looking at the local newspaper, the Marshall News-Messenger, and discovered that I was named runner-up for "Favorite Pastor" in the paper's annual “Hometown Best” edition. So I used my August newsletter article to say "thank you" to the congregation.

Dear Friends in Christ,

When Sally Field won the Academy Award for Best Actress for her role in “Norma Rae,” she started her acceptance speech crying and saying, “You like me, you really like me.” I’ve recently discovered how she felt.

A couple of Saturdays ago I saw in the newspaper that I was named a runner-up in the Pastor category of the Marshall Messenger’s “Hometown Best.” When I got the news I was filled with joy. On Sunday when I was congratulated on the award I hope I blushed at least a little bit. I am honored, and I am humbled too.

I prayed I have been able to walk that line between being honored and boasting. The words of Paul’s warning to the Corinthians was ringing in my ears, “Let him who boasts boast in the Lord.” (1Corinthians 1:31) Saying that, there are two things about this honor that bring me joy.

The first is that so many of you voted. Voting is active, whether it’s “Marshall’s Best” or anything else, voting is something the voter chooses to do. Without voting there’s no voter, right? What makes this even more special is there are so many churches in Marshall with more members that if they had chosen to vote for their pastor, well you get the picture.

The other joy is that this encourages me to keep doing what I need to do so that I don’t let you down. You have shown that you really like me (thank you Sally Field), but that’s a trust I have to continue to earn.

It’s hard to believe Marie and I have been here ten months. In one way, it feels like we haven’t been here that long at all. You know, time flies when you’re having fun. In another way, it’s like we’ve been together for a long, long time, like we have always been the Body of Christ together. For this, I thank you and I give glory to God!

So thank you for the honor and may I boast only in Christ who gives the power to live into it.

See you in church!
Paul