Presby-Musings

My youngest son Jacob rescued a baby bird the other day.  He was biking home from school and discovered the injured little bird in the middle of the road.   Most likely the little bird had been booted out of the nest because it had enough feathers to fly, but wasn't doing it very well, and ended up in the middle of the road where it would have likely perished.   Jacob carried the bird home and found a bucket to put it in, and then he put a small tree branch, and paper towels in there, too.  He moistened strips of turkey that looked like worms and fed the bird as well.   I found out that he'd gone on the internet to find out what to do with the little bird, and how to feed him.  It was pretty impressive.  We later contacted a wildlife rescue organization and took the bird to them so that his foot could be treated, and he would be able to recover and return to the wild.  Jacob was sad for a moment when he heard, but then he brightened as he began to think through it all.     You

When I was a young teenager, I was compelled to attend our church's youth gatherings, which happened on Wednesday evenings while the adults all attended "Prayer Meeting."   Prayer Meeting night was just another church service, to be honest---only when it was over the men would separate from the women, and each group would spend some time praying together out loud over prayer requests they would share.  Truth be told, I actually considered myself lucky that I had to go to the youth gathering, instead of the Prayer Meeting, although I would have much preferred to attend neither, to be frank.   The youth gatherings consisted of some singing, a time for "testimonies" and then a message from the youth pastor.  The themes of the messages ranged from "Don't Do Drugs and Have Sex," to "Don't Drink and Have Sex," or simply,  "Don't Have Sex."  Occasionally there would be a variation that included warnings of the evils of Rock-n-R

I was reading today about a "news" story that went viral on the internet, shared hundreds of thousands of times by people who were willing to believe it, no matter how ridiculous it was.   And then the story was covered by a particular news network, which gave it a measure of credence, and it got shared even more.  Yesterday,  the story was proven to be patently untrue, and even the news network that covered it had to walk back their reporting, as well as the commentary by some of the talking heads on their network.  It didn't matter, though.  The damage had already been done.  Hundreds of thousands of people believe it still, and will never be dissuaded otherwise.   The only thing that matters to them is what they believe the truth to be.  The actual truth is immaterial.  This reminded me of a parable that Fr. Anthony de Mello told once about a man who discovered a store named THE TRUTH SHOP.   When the man went into the store he was asked by the salesperson what kind of

When my grandmother was a little girl she saw a headless man walking down the street in her neighborhood, holding his missing noggin under one arm.   Her sister saw the man, too, and ran screaming home, but my grandmother was frozen in place.  She stood there paralyzed by fear as the man sauntered by, his head smiling at her as he passed.  Once, she re-told the story to me when I was in high school.  "Mawmaw," I said to her, "you know that wasn't real, right?"  Her eyes flashed at me. "I know what I saw!" she snapped.   Here's the thing... regardless of whether what she witnessed really happened, her memory of that mysterious moment persisted as a very real thing.   I have to admit, I have memories of some strange things I experienced as a child that I have always explained away but secretly wondered if perhaps there was something to them.   Like the time I jumped across a creek when I was seven, and I felt like I was flying, propelled forward by s

The massive winter storm that left most of us in Central Texas without power and water for days amid a snowy, frozen landscape also took a toll on the plants, trees, and bushes in my yard.  In the aftermath, the talented and patient landscape professional that has worked with us for years came and removed an entire truckload of bushes, dead plants, and the like.  He also trimmed back everything he thought was salvageable, assuring us that what he left would begin to grow back when the weather warmed.   He was right.  In the days and weeks that followed, I watched as those forlorn, bare bushes leafed out, sported new growth, and even the roses began to bloom, more spectacular than I remembered them in years past.   Every one of our trees roared back to life as well and they all are now covered in leafy green awesomeness---except for one.  It still looks blighted, as if it was trapped in winter, bare, ugly, and seemingly beyond hope.  We asked our landscaper if the tree should be cut dow

It's the Fourth Sunday of the Season of Easter---yes, it's still Easter!  And the Tomb is still empty!  Can I get a witness on that, Church?   Today we are going to be talking about the foundation of our faith, which is the Resurrection of Jesus--and what evidence of that foundation is in our lives.  We're going to be exploring a passage of Scripture from 1 John where we learn what the Resurrection truly brings, and what it means for Christians to "lay down our lives" so the evidence of the Resurrection can be made known.  Sound good?  First let's take on that phrase, "Laying down your life."  It's an idea that Jesus talked about on more than one occasion with his followers, and something that he demonstrated in the way he did just that when he went to the Cross.   But what does it mean for us?  Dramatic examples of people laying down their life...  The Four Chaplains were four U.S. Army chaplains serving on the SS Dorchester during World War II.

When I was a kid I remember sitting in Sunday School and being taught the story of Adam and Eve from the book of Genesis in the Bible.  I always felt sorry for them---about the way things turned out for them after everything with the Serpent and all.  It felt like an overly harsh judgment considering they were duped.   But the most poignant moment in the story for my young self was when God comes looking for them, and Adam and Eve hide because they are naked and ashamed.   I remember feeling sad as God went about the Garden calling out, "Where are you?"  I didn't really understand why I felt sad then, but over time I've had some insight.  My young self was actually in touch with a universal truth that is embedded in that story from Genesis.   Most of the time when we feel like God is far away, or distant from us... we're the ones who are actually hiding.   Henri Nouwen once wrote this, which speaks right into what I was pondering:  I  am beginning now to see how r

I was in a meeting yesterday where the topic being discussed was fear, and what to do with it when it feels like it's going to paralyze you or send you in the wrong direction.  One of the people in the meeting said something that I actually wrote down because I wanted to think more about it.  He was talking about how courage really isn't the opposite of fear, even though that's what we are often taught.   Then he said: "Courage is just fear that's been prayed up."  I love that line so much, mostly because I've always had this notion of courage that it was (as I mentioned) the opposite of fear---a notion that hasn't done anybody any good, ever.   There have been moments this past year when I have moved forward into the unknown, trying to do the next best thing, white-knuckling it all, and scared half to death that I was messing everything up.  Who am I kidding?  I've had years of that kind of angst.   The difference between those past years and the

Yesterday I wrote a piece about growing in our faith and learning to hold on to our tightly-held beliefs a little less tightly.   Which got me thinking about what happens when things begin to change and transform in the midst of our faith journey.   Experience has taught me that the very reason so many of us hold on to our tightly held beliefs so tightly is so that we don't have to experience the kind of change or transformation that might turn our beliefs upside down.  Then I read something interesting from Madeline L'Engle about upsetting the religious establishment, and I started thinking about Jesus and the way he introduced more change than the religious types could handle.   So they killed him.   First, let me share the quote from Madeline L'Engle:  When [people waking up] upset the religious establishment it is not because they have done anything to diminish God they only diminish or--even more frightening--change the current establishment's definition of God... 

I was reading an article this week about how a prominent Christian leader, who had (until now) wisely eschewed all of the culture wars rhetoric, made the mistake of getting embroiled in a controversy on social media because of some ill-worded tweets.   As he began to be backed into a corner, this Christian leader doubled down on his poor theological choices, and simply declared that since the Bible was his ultimate authority, he couldn't possibly be wrong about what he said.  And he also assumes that his interpretation of the Bible is the right one, of course.   This whole thing got me thinking about how so many of us Christian-types seem to use the Bible for our own purposes---to prop our arguments, to bolster our own world view, and even to weaponize our words to further divisions or even to create them.   You see, the Christian leader in question has the idea that the Bible is immutable, unmoving, and unyielding in the face of cultural change and transformation.  He believes tha

I have this small whiteboard that lives between my computer and my keyboard, and I write notes on it throughout the week as I move from meeting to meeting.   Sometimes the notes that end up on my whiteboard are just one-word reminders of things that I need to get done or the name of someone I need to call.  I also jot down short phrases of ideas that I want to pursue.  I have to confess that there have been more than a few times when I have written down a word or a phrase and then forgotten why I wrote it down.  Also, my handwriting is terrible, so there have been some moments when I haven't been able to decipher what I scribbled down.   When these moments occur, I often get angry with myself for being such a goof.  I berate myself for not having the foresight to use better penmanship or to just be focused enough to write down enough information.    It astounds me how quickly my whiteboard can become an instrument of self-judgment and criticism rather than a helpful tool that merel

Today is the 3rd Sunday of the Season of Easter---Happy Easter y'all!  Hey, and guess what?  Christ has still risen! The passage of Scripture that we'll be exploring today takes us into a meal that the Resurrected Jesus has with his followers... and a moment when they realize that everything has changed.   But first, let me ask you a question...  What's the best meal you've ever had...  and why was it the best meal you ever had?   I did a little survey this week on social media, asking people that question and I'm going to share some of those in a moment, but before I do that, let me share with you my favorite meal...   I got to thinking about why we remember these "best meals," and what that might mean.   Charles Spence is the head of the Crossmodal Research Laboratory at Oxford University, a lab that looks into how our senses interact.  Spence did a TED talk a few years ago where he explained why our best meals, are our best meals.  He said that the way

To clasp the hands in prayer is the beginning of an uprising against the disorder of the world. - Karl Barth Have you ever prayed that God would do something for you... give you something... grant your wishes, desires, hopes, and dreams?   Even though most of us probably figured out a long time ago that it doesn't work that way, we secretly try it anyway---long past the moments we realized it.  I recently stopped myself in the midst of pleading with God to grant me a wish, and muttered out loud: "Who am I kidding? You're not really listening anyway, are you?"Then, I sort of shyly cast my gaze up to the stars and said, "Sorry."   I know, right?  I'm the guy who has written many of these devotionals about prayer and how it works, and what happens when we do, and there I was doing the thing that I said not to do... treat God like a slot machine.   I was reading an essay by Peter Counter from the collection Empty The Pews: Stories of Leaving the Church, and

When I was in middle school my football team won the state championship for our school association in Colorado.  I was a starter and played tight end and defensive back.  Now I'm not one to brag, but... I was pretty good.  I caught a handful of TD passes and ran for a couple more over the course of that season, and added a few interceptions as well.  I loved playing football.   We moved the next year to a new state,  and I was quickly recruited by my new classmates to join the high school football team, which I gladly did.  Because I loved playing football.  And then I didn't love it so much anymore.  My coaches the previous year in my old school were tough, fair, encouraging, and they knew how to coach kids well.  The coaches on my new team were tough, but that's all they had in common with my former coaches.  They sucked the joy for the game right out of me.   I remember one practice, an assistant coach (who was the angriest, meanest Baptist I've very met) picked up a

I was listening to "Rivers to Ocean," a +song by singer/songwriter Bill Callahan, and there is this line in the song that caught my attention, so I wrote it down and have been thinking about it ever since.  Well, I  could tell you about the river, or we could just get in…  This morning when I read it again, I was struck with a vivid memory of my twelve-year-old self all dressed up in a too-big short-sleeved dress shirt, a garish clip-on tie, and carrying a massive Bible.   I was doing door-to-door witnessing with a group from the fundamentalist Baptist church we went to at the time, and I was dressed up for it.  I'd even slicked my hair back with some Bryl-cream, which gave it a greasy, shiny kind of sheen.   We went out that night to an apartment complex near our church--knocking on doors and asking people, "If you died right now, would you go to heaven or hell?"   Door-to-door evangelism is not unlike door-to-door sales, except you get more doors slammed i

Soren Kierkegaard once wrote a parable about a man who authored a best-selling book on God's faithfulness during hard times.  Then came a day when the man suffered incredible personal hardship, and he began to doubt his own writings.  Out of desperation, the man reached out to a pastor who didn't know him personally in hopes that he would find some objective comfort and guidance.   After listening to him relate all of his doubts about the goodness of God, the pastor told the man he didn't have any real words of comfort, but he did have a recommendation for a book to read about the love of God.  It was the book the man had written.   Sometimes I feel a bit like that guy---especially over the course of this past year.  As a pastor, I'm often asked to make sense of the senseless and point to where God is in the midst of suffering and awfulness.   And there have been more than a few times when I had no idea what to say because I was struggling to see God at that moment, too