Stuck!

One spring day in my fourth or fifth year, I was enjoying exploring around the farm buildings where I grew up. Walking between two of the buildings, I found myself stuck in the mud. I was wearing my tall barn boots, but couldn’t pull myself out of the mess I was in. So, I did the only thing I knew to do. I yelled for my father to come pull me out. And he did!

Fast forward to another spring about twelve years later when I was learning to drive the car. One Sunday afternoon, I wanted my Dad to go driving with me, but he was tired and preferred napping. He told me I could take the Nash Rambler (stick shift) and drive it around the farmyard. I did fine driving up and down the driveways, backing and turning, using the clutch and gear shift, UNTIL, I decided to drive across the farmyard. This was exactly the area where many years before I had stood in the mud in my boots yelling for my Dad. You guessed it. I got the car stuck in the mud. Again, I had no choice but to run to the house and call my Dad to get me out. He interrupted his nap to get the tractor and pull me out.

I suspect that I had something to do with cleaning up the car that day. After all, we all knew where the blame lay.

Can we draw a life lesson from these muddy adventures? I think so. When we land in the mud, in order to get out successfully, we first need to acknowledge we have caused a problem. Then we need to call someone to get us out of the mess—and the best one to call is our Father, then, accept our role in the problem and thank Him for His help. Thirdly, we must clean up the mess as best as we can. It may take a long time to eventually get the mud out of all the crevices, but at least we’ve made an honest attempt to correct our fault.

Did my Father prevent me from getting my driving license because of this incident? Of course not. He realized that I had done all I could, learned from my mistake, and might even be a better driver for the experience. Our Heavenly Father treats us much the same way!

Ducklings

The Middle School where I taught part-time was a monstrously large building of hallways, classrooms and courtyards. The courtyards were planted with flowers and trees and opened to the sky. Every spring for many years, a mother duck would fly into one of these spaces, lay her eggs and wait for them to hatch. A certain science teacher, whose classroom faced the courtyard, and his students, watched daily. Every spring they witnessed the hatching of several ducklings. Getting out of the courtyard with her ducklings was impossible for the mother because they had not yet learned to fly. So, every year, this science teacher would lead the parade of his furry friends through his classroom, down the long corridors, and out to the green meadows beyond.

Hear the Whistle Blow

If you miss the train I’m on, you will know that I am gone,
You will hear the whistle blow a hundred miles.

Maybe it’s my background of learning and teaching folksongs, among them old songs about the railroad, but trains and the sounds they make in a distance intrigue me. From my bedroom I can hear the local trains coming and going and whistling through the crossings as they rumble on their way.

For a year I have felt like I am sitting on my luggage on a platform waiting for the train to come. I have sat through rain, wind, snow, cold, darkness of night and the aloneness out there by myself.

Now on a spring morning, I think I hear the whistle of a train in the distance. I am ready to embark on a new journey. Where the train will take me I do not know, nor who will be on the train with me, but finally I sense my days of waiting on the platform are coming to an end.

What Does God Want to Hear?

In looking at my Bible I find that of all the pursuits, singing sits fairly far up on the list. Oh, yes, we read about praying and begetting, even fighting, but singing seems to appear from Genesis to Revelation. Yes, we read about singing more than any other occupation we will have in Heaven.

When I think about the references to singing in the Bible, I don’t read too often that we should leave it to a soloist. Sometimes choirs do the job, but most of the time, singing is done by EVERYONE.

When I think of the activity of singing during my lifetime, I go back to my childhood where I sat next to my parents in church and heard them lustily participate with all the other farmers and wives, unashamedly. Yes, they sang, not thinking anything particularly strange about doing so. We sang around the piano at home. My sister and I sang while we washed and dried the dishes after the evening meal. We even sang rounds together.

When I think about singing now in the 21st century, it amazes me how ignorant, how self-conscious, how reticent people act. (By the way, I hope the thousands of music students I’ve had during my life of teaching are different!) After hearing and seeing on TV how strongly the Canadians sang their anthem at the last Olympics, I am ashamed that we do such a poor job of getting everyone to join in when our anthem is presented in public. Why do we think we need some pop singer to “interpret” the song in his or her genre, making it impossible to sing along?

When I teach children singing, even church children, I find that many have rarely sung before I introduce it to them. Even when I do get them to sing in unison, they have a difficult time holding a pitch, or hanging onto a line of a familiar song enough to try singing in a round, thus revealing their dependence on others.

I blame the adults who seem to think it is more sophisticated to “listen” to music rather than to “make” it. What a disservice we do to our children and to ourselves.

One of the joys God gave us at creation was singing, and He will expect us to honor Him in Heaven with our voices. Will we even know how? I hope so!

There's a Welcome Here

As children in Sunday School we would sing the little ditty, “There’s a welcome here, there’s a welcome here, there’s a Christian welcome here.” I was reminded of this song when I read from the blog of friend, Father Eric Kouns the following statement.

Our churches should be hospitals where the pain of disillusionment and disappointment—with ourselves, with our friends and family, and yes, with God—can be acknowledged and healed. Instead, they are too often little more than social clubs where superficial smiles and cursory exchanges cover over the doubts, the questions, the longing for something more and the fear of admitting that in front of all those who, outwardly, seem to have it all together.

Both the words “hospital” and “hospitality” come from the same root, expressing the idea of offering healing as a welcome to hurting people. How many times do we enter our churches with a heavy heart and leave the same way, or worse? It is my prayer that God will sensitize me to my brothers and sisters in Christ and see them as needy as I know myself to be.

I have attended services in churches where certain people with strong personalities, or those with differing opinions from the majority, or those who don’t fit in, have actually been shunned. I have heard unwelcoming rhetoric and observed church families that operate more like social cliques. In fact, some churches act as though they would rather people with needs wouldn’t bother to come. Things just get a little too uncomfortable with them there.

At the very least, we as Christians need to be aware of others as Christ would be. It may take some insightful awareness, some patience, and some genuine concern to minister to others in our churches. But, if we expect our congregation members to go out into the worlds in which they live on Monday through Saturday and be Christ’s people there, we must offer each other a place of healing and authentic Christian love when we meet together on Sundays.

Forward

I can’t move forward looking at the past. Enough time has been wasted already. As Joel Osteen pointed out in a recent sermon, there is a reason why the windshield on your car is bigger than the rear-view mirror. I just wish my headlights were brighter than my tail-lights!

I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me…Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. Philippians 3:12-14

Staff Infection?

In belonging to the staff of a church—where I am also a member of that church—I have a greater stake in the work I do there because of my desire that the church, and not just my work, succeed.

As a staff member, I have more ownership than a regular member of the church because of the tremendous investment of my own philosophy, gifts, time, energy, and pure hard work in building a program God has led me to develop. As the director of musical groups, I also have a far different connection with people than other members because of my work in fostering people’s musical abilities and theological understanding over a period of many years. The longer the time as a staff member, the more influence and ownership I have.

But, now that I am no longer a staff member, I have nearly no ownership in the church or its musical program. An ordinary member has more influence, more responsibility, and more to possess than I do. The loss of my position equates to the loss of my place in that church.

Ordinary church members cannot possibly understand the pain and loss that a staff member feels when he or she may no longer serve as a staff member. Some say that a solution is to insist that staff members never become actual members of the church they serve. I think that’s a mistake. In order to enter into wholehearted service, I must also become a member and partner in every aspect of church life.

So now, I sit in a dilemma. I wait on God to show me the next step. I’m glad I can count on the fact that He is always faithful.

The Door

If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake the dust off your feet when you leave that home or town. Matthew 10:14

Several years ago I saw the hand reach out and snatch the welcome mat inside. I had spent a long time loving that place, the people and their children. I had shared generously of my goods and my gifts. But I still went back.

Recently, I heard the door slam shut when I came near. They didn’t want my brand of ministry, I guess. They didn’t like the friends I chose to honor because of my friends’ love for Christ, and they didn’t care if I stayed away.

The last day there, with a loud click, I heard the bolt slide into place. I was not welcome to return. That seems to be the will of the people.

Yet, with all that said, I know that God can open closed doors. To the angel of the church of Philadelphia, John the Apostle wrote, What He opens no one can shut, and what he shuts no one can open. Revelation 3:7.

So, I heard the door shut. I find myself in the uncomfortable position of waiting to see whether God leads for me to “shake the dust off my feet,” or whether he opens a door NO ONE can shut. In either case I must exercise faith. I stand waiting.

Pigs and Lipstick

You’ve heard this saying: You can put lipstick on a pig, but it is still a pig—meaning: You can dress up a lie all you want, but it is still a lie.

Charles Spurgeon put it more delicately when he wrote in the early 19th century: A hog in a silk waistcoat is still a hog.

More Pet Peeves

People who drive below the posted speed limit. This is especially true of old men in hats. If they have a dog on the front seat, it’s even worse!

Supermarket Rearrangements: Why are the Fruit Loops where the prune juice used to be? Can you help me find the toilet paper?

Meetings that are cancelled after I arrive for them. This is downright maddening, especially if they are cancelled because of bad weather!

Packing peanuts: Why do they stick to everything, and refuse to leave the box?

Those sticky advertisements that they plant smack-dab over the picture on the front page of the newspaper.

Teapots

God doesn’t intend us to be sugar bowls, but teapots with a spout, out of which we pour blessing.

Stirring the Squash

I hated squash as a child. But, my parents always made me take “one bite.” Trouble was, I sometimes gagged and I couldn’t bring myself to even taste the stuff. So, to solve the problem the best way I knew how, I would stir the squash around on my plate and make it look like I had tried it.

Now that I am grown, I have met people who operate with this kind of tactic in their work. They want to appear as competent employees, doing their jobs well, and performing to everyone’s satisfaction. However, like my behavior when I was a child, they have learned to “stir the squash.”

Under pressure from the Board of Education over low test scores, a school superintendant announces he will add 15 minutes to the length of the school day. Trouble was, he only lengthened the day for staff. The students’ schedule was tied to the bus company’s time constraints. He had stirred the squash.

As a secretary, the young woman rushed around the office, the picture of efficiency whenever anyone asked for her help. Yet, she NEVER met deadlines, and made promises to everyone that she never intended to fulfill. She dropped off her work for other secretaries to finish, in her mad rush to get on to something more fun. She learned how to stir the squash.

When we run into these kinds of people, we should let their examples teach us. If all we want is to make a good impression, then we can stir the squash too. However, if we want our work to reflect our character, we need to take our “bite” out of the work and do what we can to remain honest and competent.

Pet Peeves

1. Why does my microwave oven beep every 30 seconds after the food is ready, and my conventional oven timer beeps only once?
2. The use of “bring” and “take:” A person “takes” a package to the post office, but “brings” one in the house from the front porch.
3. Grammar in general: Don’t get me started.
4. The page-turns for the organist in choir music: Editors seem to like to punish organists at page turns with registration and key changes, while the choir pauses between verses.
5. Shrink wrap: Need I say more?