Lake Louise Church of the Nazarene

My mom, Manya. I call her, "Momya."

Someone once said, “The best years of my life were spent in the arms of another man’s wife…my mother.” Mother’s Day is the official “spoil your mom day.” We wax poetic about how great mom is, was, or could be. We buy sappy cards with interesting poetry, and take her to dinner to tell her how much we love our mom. Thanks goodness it’s only one day a year.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother. I love my daughter’s mother. I even love my wife’s mother. That doesn’t mean that I have always been kind to my mom. There were times that I was way less than kind and loving to her.

I have caused her intense pain. I made her cry. Evidently, giving birth is really difficult and painful stuff. I mean, I don’t remember going through the birth canal (Thank you, God!) but I do remember seeing what our adorable daughter did to my wife’s sweet disposition. Also, giving birth is not all that pretty. In fact, I have been told of a time when men weren’t allowed into the delivery room. After watching the birth of my daughter, I can’t say that keeping men out wasn’t such a bad idea. Nevertheless, here we are, more enlightened and in touch with our experiential knowledge of childbirth. I digress.

What amazes me about childbirth, and all the festivities that are associated with it, is that women will go through it again. I have two sisters that were born after me. I don’t imagine that it gets any easier after the first one. In “Cheaper by the Dozen,” Bonnie Hunt’s character, Kate Baker, has 12 children. She is being interviewed by Regis and Kelly. Kelly asks, “Did you have them conventionally?” To which Kate replies, “Well, uh, after the sixth one, they just kind of walked out.” I’m not sure, but I think all babies come by force and difficulty.

Not only did I cause my mother pain in childbirth, but I was no walk in the park as a child: I got sick, hurt, was grumpy, picky, mean, and stubborn. More than once I am sure my mom tried to sell me to the Gypsies. I you are a Gypsy and you are reading this, I am past my prime so the offer, I hope, is void. Raising children is hard, heart-breaking work.

So what does Mother’s Day have to do with God? I am so glad that you asked. One day, when I was feeling particularly sad about how I treated my mom (hence, why I am glad Mother’s Day is once a year), I apologized for my horrible behavior through the years. She looked at me and, with all seriousness, said, “You were a delight.” I know I wasn’t a delight, but she was serious.

Mom’s teach us a lot about God, I think. In 1 Corinthians 13, Paul writes about love. “Love keeps no record of wrongs” (verse 5). A mother’s love is a forgiving love, a patient love, a hopeful love, a long-suffering love. I’ve treated God no differently than I have my mom. I have caused God pain. I have not always listened to God’s wisdom and gone my own way, which caused us both pain. But, through it all God continues to speak wonderful words of affirmation and love. I think when I see God face to face and share all of my shortcomings; I will hear God say, “David, you were a delight.”

Happy Mother’s Day!

Dave is the pastor of Lake Louise Church. You can reach him at pastor@llcn.org or 248-236-5141

I officiated at a funeral last week. It was a tragedy all around. A young woman, 20, commited suicide. She happened to be a lesbian. One of the triggers for her was a betrayal by her girlfriend. It was too much and this young woman made a bad choice to end her life. 

At the funeral, a friend of the family said something to that effect. After the service another young lady got after me about how I shouldn’t blame homosexuality for the suicide. Nothing like that was said. But, I believe that was what she was expecting. There has been a long history of the churches dim view of suicide and homosexuality. So, this young lady was loaded for bear. She was ready to hear condemnation and wrath. She got was she was looking for, I guess. 

 You don’t have to be a lesbian to hear things that aren’t there. You could be divorced, had an abortion, stolen something, or lied. If you are looking for a judgmental or angry God you will find it even in the midst of love. Recognizing that we all have filters on the way we hear things will help in hearing what is really being said. Asking questions, like this young lady did, will help clarify the meaning of things. Then, we can all move forward to hearing with new ears.

What are you looking for when you are talking to people or going to church? Are you looking for grace, hope, and mercy? Or are you looking for condemnation, guilt, and shame?

Philip told Nathanael that he found the one they were looking for. What are you looking for?

So here we are. The election is over, the votes counted, and the winner announced. Since I am writing this on the day of the election, I have no idea who won. I am just so smart that I know someone won. With that brilliance in mind, I will share another insight: Some folks are ecstatic while others are devastated. Think about how fortunate you are to have turned to this article in your time of need and realize that I know how you are feeling today. It cannot possibly get any better than this, can it?

If you are upset about the election, the people that are really getting under your skin are the folks celebrating their victory; especially if they think you are as happy as they are. Grrrrr. I was trying to think of some really funny things to write, just to cheer up the grumpy people in our audience. Then, I thought, “Wait. If I were really grumpy, jokes would just tick me off.” So, no jokes.  Of course, it is a week later, so maybe just one: A little girl asked her father, “Daddy? Do all Fairy Tales begin with ‘Once Upon A Time’?”  He replied, “No, there is a whole series of Fairy Tales that begin with ‘If elected I promise’.”

I am writing this and thinking about the week that has passed. While a great deal may have changed, there are a lot of things that are the same. Your friends and neighbors are still your friends and neighbors. You can count on slow traffic on M-15. The Detroit Lions…well, there is always next year. And, my fantasy football team stinks.

I am sure you all realized that I am writing this with a great deal of faith. I have no idea what will happen in the future. Our new president may indeed be the anti-christ. The world may end before this article is printed. Or, Jesus will come back (so look busy). The future is not known, and we cannot predict the future from things that have happened in the past. If the saying “The past performance of a fund, stock, or even stock market as a whole is no indication of the future return” for investments, why should we have a lower standard for our world’s future? Just because I have had a lot of sunrises and sunsets in my life, there is no guarantee that I will have a tomorrow.  

For some reason, we use our incredible imagination and create some kind of horrible future that will cause gas prices to climb to $7 a gallon, and all sorts of other things. Most of us let our fears predict the future. But that is our future. It is something we create. The question we need to ask is what kind of future can God create? What kind of future could we create if we put some serious effort into following God? Again, I don’t know the future. But, the future is less scary when I know that God is walking point on the journey.

Maybe creating a better future and getting less freaked out starts with believing that God can do more than we imagine. You may think that we can’t do anything. You wouldn’t be too far off. On our own we can’t, but God can. If we can imagine incredibly great things, God can do even more.  Paul writes, “God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us” Ephesians 3:20 (The Message).

We have a new president. They come and go every four to eight years. God is from everlasting to everlasting. That is where I am putting my hope. How about you?

Dave is a registered voter. He is also a bit cynical about politics and politicians. He is, however, not cynical about God. You can reach him at 248-236-5141.

Sometimes I wonder where I left my sense of humor. Seriously, I like to laugh, have fun, tell a joke (funny or not), but when I start writing I get all serious. I used to write and find humor in all sorts of things. People said that it reflected who they knew me to be. Now I’m like a grumpy old man sitting on a porch yelling at people to slow down. Where did my sense of humor go?

Maybe it was in my Masters degree. My first paper was filled with witty insights, social commentary, and a healthy dose of sarcasm. Then I realized that Masters Degree students have no sense of humor. This is serious work. These are serious times. There are governments to reclaim, religious ideas to refute, Bible translations to defend, and denominations to promote. We are not in a ‘fun and games’ time of our lives. These are serious times and they require serious people. Maybe I lost my sense of humor somewhere between deconstructionist theology and the theoretical foundations of human nature. See, nothing about that sentence was fun or funny.

Maybe I lost my sense of humor because I just found out that the world is supposed to end in December of 2012. Yep, people got tired of Christians predicting when Jesus would show up so they have jumped ship to the Mayan calendar for a dose of world ending terror. The difference is that the Mayan story lacks an airlift rescue before it all goes bad. All of that makes me wish Y2K was true because all that crisis predicted was a total economic and societal collapse, but there would still be sunsets. On the bright side, we still get one more Summer Olympics to watch and at least one more Fall color tour. We will, evidently miss Christmas. Maybe this 2012 idea will build up steam in the Christian community and we’ll give a rebuttal that the actual time of Jesus’ arrival is later. Then we could sell a few more books and stuff. After all, if you add the digits in 2013 they equal six and you can’t go wrong predicting the end of the world when the numbers add up to six, right?

Maybe I lost my sense of humor because of the political climate of our time. If Carbon Dioxide is one of the culprits of global warming, the temperature is going to climb over the next couple of weeks and months because of the political conventions. We have politicians yapping about all sorts of things. Each party is staking their claim to God and their right to rule. And we Christians on both sides are poking holes in their lives and policies trying to prove that our candidate is actually the ‘chosen’ candidate. I almost expect to hear the voice of James Earl Jones say at the end each political ad, “I’m God and I approve this message.”

Maybe I lost my sense of humor because I lost sight that God has never been too concerned about who was king, emperor, Caesar, or president. Maybe I lost my sense of humor because I forgot that Jesus has already been crowned King. Maybe I lost my sense of humor because I forgot to love the things that God loves. Maybe if I realized that nothing can come between me and God I would get my sense of humor back. If Justin Timberlake can bring sexy back, maybe God can bring funny back. What do you think?

The Christian life does not happen in a vacuum. It is a shared experience. It is life lived with and among people as we follow Christ. The challenge is that we often forget the communal, life-lived-together aspect of the faith. When that happens, sermons take on an extreme amount of importance. The words the preacher speaks begin to take on an importance of epic proportions. A preacher needs to say all of the right things all of the time. Why? Because we are excluding the key component of living lives for others to observe and emulate.

We forget that our lives are to be examples. We are supposed to help people learn about Jesus by the way we live our lives. We help them when we apologize when we are wrong. We help them when we give sacrificially. We help them when we love our enemies. We help them when we live in such a way that Jesus Christ shines through. The faith is easier to understand when it is observed than described.

 My wife, Ruth, was taking part in a management class. The communication exercise was not easy. The instructor gave each person a shape. There were straight lines, triangles, circles, and squares. These shapes and lines were put together into a shape. Each person had to give detailed instructions on how to draw the shape. There was a catch, however. They could not use the words of the shapes to describe them. A triangle now becomes a geometric shape in which the sum of the angles equals 180 degrees. There are only three sides to this shape. That is a lot of words to describe a triangle.

Well, Ruth is brilliant and thought the best way to describe this shape would be to show it to them. She cut the design out, pasted it to a piece of paper and wrote, “Draw this shape.” The instructor said that was not the intent of the exercise. I thought it a great way to get it done.

Imagine the life of Christ; there have been countless volumes written about the life Jesus lived and the example he gave. Without an example to follow there is a void and we will fill the void with something. That something is words.

I am not against words. I am a preacher. But if no one is living the Christ life in my congregation, I need to use more words than I know. Let me put it this way: People will learn more quickly how to forgive when they have seen it, experienced it in their lives. People will learn to pray when they have seen it.

I was fixing my motorcycle when I learned this lesson. The bike was idling roughly and there were some problems with it at highway speeds. My friend and I started to look through the manual for some trouble shooting ideas and there it was right before my eyes. They had instructions on how to not only eliminate the problem, but how to keep the bike in top working form. There were a lot of words used to describe something I realized my friends had quickly demonstrated for me. Their examples filled the vacuum words would had to fill if they did not show me.

Don’t get me wrong, we need words. But the words are a part of the package, not the total package. Jesus didn’t say the Bible was useless. He showed us how to live the Bible. Jesus said, “Follow me.”

Where are you today? Do you expect your preacher or your professor or books or movies to say everything that needs to be said about the Christ life? If so, does that expose a vacuum in your life? Maybe evangelism is a simple as saying, “follow me as I follow Christ.”

My wife and I just celebrated our 25^th wedding anniversary with a trip to Traverse City. It was the annual Cherry Festival and we participated in one of my favorite pastimes – people watching. There were all sorts of people walking up and down the streets. There were kids on skateboards, folks riding motorcycles, people on scooters, and some funky golf cart looking things. People were walking up and down the streets until late at night. But one thing stood out to me as we watched all of the people enjoying the festival; there were a lot of kids holding their parents hands.

I know it sounds silly, but my daughter is 20 and doesn’t hold my hand anymore. I remember walking down the street with her little hand in mine. I remember picking her up and carrying her when she was too tired to walk anymore. I remember her sitting on my lap and me reading a story to her. I remembered all of those times while I watched these moms and dads with their sons and daughters.

I don’t know when Lindsay stopped holding my hand. I miss her reaching out and taking my hand when she wanted to show me something she had found. I miss her taking my hand when she was nervous in a crowd. I don’t know when she stopped holding my hand; I do know that I miss it.

Let’s be honest. Our children will grow up. They will get older and they will become more and more independent. That is how it works. That is the way it is supposed to work at least. But sometimes with that independence comes an uncomfortable distance. I know from my experience I don’t call my mom and dad as much as I should. What makes me think that my mom and dad miss me hold their hands any less than I miss holding my daughters hand? I know I have grown up. Now, instead of running to my dad when I am scared, I am the one that must put on a brave face and tell my daughter everything is going to be okay. Actually, she doesn’t even need me for that much anymore. I sure miss those days.

That got me thinking about God. When I first became a Christian, God was so close. I ran to God for every little thing. I ran to God with every decision, every question, and every worry or doubt. As I grew up I started to understand more of what God liked and didn’t like. I was better able to make decisions based on what I was learning from God. I was growing up. And I think that is okay. We are supposed to grow up and mature. We are supposed to be able to make decisions based on what we have learned and are learning. This is the way it is supposed to be. Eventually I let go of God’s hand. But with that came an uncomfortable distance. I didn’t talk to God much. I didn’t spend much time with God at all.

Maybe that’s you. You used to be really close to God and walked hand in hand with God every day. Maybe something happened in your life that hurt you and in anger you lashed out at God and stopped talking. Maybe you just grew up and let the relationship slip to the sidelines of your life. I don’t know when you stopped holding God’s hand, but I know God misses it.

Wherever you are, whatever you have done, no matter how far you feel you are from God, there is a hand waiting to be held. Reconnect with God this week. Reach out and remember what it is like to be loved and have joy. You might just want to pray a little prayer and get caught up with God on what’s happening in your life. Love is waiting to be held if you will just reach out your hand and let love’s firm grasp find you. While you’re at it, if your parents are still around, give them a call. It will make their day and yours. I promise.

I am not interested in a timid life. I do not want to die with more left to give because I was afraid of trying, of getting hurt, of losing. I want every moment spent on life and living, not fear. I would rather fail in great ways than not try at all. I would rather be laughed at for trying than to sit on the sidelines wishing for the courage to try.

I want to know the pain of a broken heart because that will mean that I loved much and loved deeply. I do not want to be afraid of love just because it hurts when it is lost. I want to love so deeply that it feels like a truck has been dropped on my chest. Because that kind of sorrow is only found in the deepest, most intimate of relationships. If avoiding sorrow would cheat me of that kind of love, I will not do it.

When I die I want to know that there was nothing held back, nothing left to give, and no reserve. I want to be totally spent in living my life to the fullest capacity God has given me, and when I see Jesus, he will say, “You look tired. Well done!”