The Mainline Minister

At one level, it's not much, but we affixed a rainbow stripe to the sign in front of our church yesterday.  On another, though, it's a big deal.  We've announced to the wider community in a way that is visible every day and every night, regardless of the hour, that we're open and indeed welcoming of all who might cross our front step.  For many of us, this is a non-issue.  We've been welcome our entire lives.  But for some of us, this is a big deal: we've never felt truly welcome.  This stripe may not completely obviate our feelings of exclusion, but hopefully it will help. Lent is a time to not only repent through prayer and meditation but through actions, large and small.  What would be the equivalent for you of placing a rainbow stripe on a sign?  What's keeping you from doing this?  Fortunately, there's still more than two weeks until Easter to do something positive.

This morning when I opened my email I found a reminder to do something that has a deadline.  I wasn't expecting the prompt, but was grateful for its arrival.  Now, I just have to act on it! Lent can be this way, too.  Throughout this season, we receive reminders in ways large and small, expected and surprising, to focus on repairing our relationships with God and God's people.  Sometimes we'll notice these encouragements, other times we'll miss them but we can count on their coming our way.  We just need to be watchful.  Though the season of Lent is drawing to a close, more prompts will be coming.  Of that we can be sure.  We just need to be attentive.  And then we need to follow through.

How's your Lent so far?  Have you given any thought to this question?  If so, how would you answer?  Good, bad, empty, meaningful?  If not, why have you not considered the matter? I ask all of these questions because Lent should be a work in progress, a vocational activity that can change, grow, adapt, and adjust.  Our disciplines during this season should be organic, alive, evolving.  If things get stale, that's a sign we need to stop and reflect.  This is not a time for going through the motions, not if we really are looking forward to repenting, reconciling, and renewing. So take a moment.  Check in.  There's still almost two and a half weeks until Easter -- lots of time for a Lenten course adjustment.

My computer is old enough that its operating system can no longer be updated.  Technically, it's obsolete.  Yet here I am on email, typing this message, which I will be able to send to you, then post to different web sites.  True, I may not be able to access the latest app, but I can't say that is somehow having a negative impact on my overall quality of life.  So just how obsolete is obsolete? Our culture tells us we need the newest, fastest, shiniest whatever it is that's out there.  But our experience tells us otherwise.  We can often more than get by, indeed, we can often be quite happy with what we currently have.  So why are susceptible to blandishments of marketers and others who tell us we need to trade up?  Part of it, I believe, is fear.  Fear of not having every resource, every advantage possible at our disposal as we make our way in a confusing, at times menacing world.  Fear that we are somehow not prepared for the dark roads we will at some poi

My work week runs from Monday up through Sunday.  It's with this in mind that I feel like I've turned a corner.  Yesterday, we worshiped in the round in the parish hall.  This coming Sunday we will return to the main Sanctuary.  Our services will be no less nor any more filled with the Spirit, but they will feel different. This change of venue and the preparations it entails makes me feel as if something about Lent has changed, too.  Perhaps it's because just two Sundays after our return to the Sanctuary we will celebrate Easter.  More of Lent is behind us than before us.  Yet there still is so much to do!  The temptation to look to the Feast of the Resurrection is strong, but now more than ever it is vital to remain grounded in Lent.  Yes, we can and we should prepare for what is to come.  But we also must tend to the present moment and its claim on us. So, yes, we've turned a corner.  But we haven't crossed the proverbial finish line.  There's

Today is Laetare Sunday.  This day is a celebration day, a reminder that Easter is now drawing near. In many liturgical traditions, it is an opportunity to take a break from one's Lenten disciplines. Sorry, but maybe this is the Puritan-inspired Congregationalist in me, but that sounds awfully, well, cheatish.  Oh, don't get me wrong.  I understand the reasoning.  And it makes sense to me.  But what's the point of having a discipline if you're going to take breaks from it?  Okay, that sounds a bit Pharasaical, doesn't it? The truth is, if I give up my Lenten disciplines today, it will be that much harder for me to resume them tomorrow and now that I've settled into my routine, I don't want to mess things up.  I'm not sure how holy that is, but it's the honest truth.  If I go get that cup of coffee today, I know I'll want to get one tomorrow.  Temptation and all that. Those of you who are stronger than me, enjoy yourselves today

In the Christian church, we observe Sabbath on Sunday, the day on which Jesus was resurrected.  We also do this because the early Christian church sought to distinguish itself from Judaism, with its honoring of the Sabbath, or Shabbat, on Saturday, the last day of the week, the one on which God rested after his labors.  Saturday is the day of the week on which Jesus would have rested. I'm not calling for us to change our practice, rooted in centuries of theology and tradition.  But I do think we'd benefit from the thought of experiment of trying to see Sabbath in new ways.  A different perspective might help us regain the meaning and power of the Day of Rest, an urgent need in our hectic modern lives. This Lent, let's try to live into Sabbath, to acknowledge that if God, the maker of the universe, the Lord of All Creation, could find to rest, so too can we.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. The snow is falling, drivers were taking care this morning.  All is quiet.  It feels like Christmas is just around the corner. But we know that's not the case, right?  We're in the midst of Lent, after all.  We've already celebrated the birth of the Christ child.  Now, in our daily and weekly readings, Jesus is grown, a man with a calling, heading to the cross and Calvary.  There, God-with-us, Emmanuel, will die and then be resurrected, in the process defeating sin and death and offering to us new life. Hmm.  That sounds like quite a gift.  In fact, it sounds like the best gift ever.  So, you know what? Maybe it is beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

In the aftermath of yesterday's terrorist attack in central London, the Rev. Dr. Sam Wells, the vicar of St. Martin in the Fields, wrote this Prayer for Peace in the Heart of London: God of justice and mercy your Son Jesus placed his body in the way of cruel and violent attack. By your Holy Spirit come close to the hearts of those who work in Parliament, to the souls of all who work to the protect the public, and to the fears of any who visit central London to relax, discover, and enjoy. Heal wounds, soften painful memories, calm anxieties. Turn the minds of those who make terror their instrument, that they may see the harm they do, and come to share the horror the rest of the world feels. Transform their hatred into dialogue, understanding, and reasoned disagreement. Make this city a place where diversity is cherished and public space is secure, that we may walk together in the ways of peace, in the footsteps of your Son, our saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen. Read,

The wind began blowing hard early this morning and it hasn't let up since.  If March is supposed to go out like a lamb, somebody in weather central appears not to have received the memo. The gusts got me thinking about the Holy Spirit.  The Spirit is depicted as descending upon the first Christians with wind and fire in the Book of Acts.  Sometimes, the wind of the Spirit that touches us is like a zephyr, other times more like a hurricane.  We cannot control the Spirit.  But we can be alert to its promptings, to its movement in our lives.  Yes, we may be buffeted on occasion, but this is the presence of God we're talking about, something we all too often ignore in the midst of our daily routines. Today, give thanks for the Spirit.  And pray that you and I will be more alert to its presence in our lives.

Today is supposedly the first full day of spring but looking out my window, one wouldn't know it.  The sky is leaden and snow still covers the ground.  While it's not bitterly cold, it is also not quite warm.  Bottom line: it's still looking a lot like winter.  This seasonal dissonance reminds me of our eschatological reality: the already-not yet state of things that Paul so powerfully explored in his epistles.  Jesus has triumphed on the cross (the already) but the Kingdom doesn't seem to have arrived in full (the not yet).  As Christians, we are called to witness to what Jesus has done and not be swayed or deterred by the world as it is.  Unfortunately, we all too often give up.  Lent is a good time to acknowledge this reality and recommit ourselves to being people of God's New Creation.  For while it may not look like spring, it most certainly is!

Vacuum.  That's what I'm experiencing this morning as I try to think of something original to write for this day's reflection.  Nothing's coming.  Yet here I am typing. Ah.  There's something.  The Spirit perhaps?  An insight, perhaps, is at hand: what I'm experiencing this morning is something that has happened when I've wanted to pray.  The desire is there, but the words are not.  Still, I try.  Prayer is one of those activities of the life of faith that is worth giving a go even when we fell the proverbial tank is empty.  In part, because the act of doing can bring us closer to God.  In part, because trying and trying can sometimes help us succeed.  And, in part, because sometimes in the midst of that vacuum the Spirit will appear, surprising us, touching us, bestowing upon us in an unexpected moment God's grace.

This morning's lectionary reading from the Hebrew Bible (Exodus 17.1-7) finds us in familiar territory: the Israelites are complaining.  They seem to do this a lot.  One would think they might show a little bit of gratitude to God for leading them out of slavery but that act of grace seems to have been filed away to be forgotten.  Their interest is in what the Almighty can do for them now.  The ingrates! Before we get too comfortable in our righteous indignation, we would do well to remember that we are as bad as they were.  As individuals, as communities, even the best of find ways to forget what God has done for us and to instead focus on what he has not done.  This seems to be a part of the human condition.  While wanting more, entertaining ambitions, and dreaming dreams can help us as individuals and as a people grow, we would do well to remember the blessings we currently enjoy. This Lent, let us repent for our ingratitude and pray that God will renew our se

This evening, as the second full week of Lent comes to an end, I invite you to join me in reflecting on the seven days gone by.  How are you doing with your Lenten disciplines?  How do you feel about your Lenten journey?  With four weeks of Lent left to go, it may be tempting to think we have all the time in the world to reflect, repent, and reorient ourselves to God.  But the truth is, we're already a third of the way through Lent!  Think about that, pray on it.  Then get a good night's sleep and join me tomorrow in diving into the third week of Lent.

Perhaps I'm going out on a limb here, but I suspect that when Patrick left Britain to go to Ireland to share the Gospel he didn't imagine that centuries later people would celebrate his love of God and mission to spread the good news about Jesus by getting stone cold drunk, pretending to be Irish, or sporting shirts with images of leprechauns and shamrocks.  But here we are. So, what ought we do on this St. Patrick's Day?  Well, we can recall the saint's forgiveness of those who hurt him, his commitment to sharing the word about the Word, and his life-shaping faithfulness.  Then we can pray that we may be similarly inspired in our own vocations.  Remember: tho' popular culture tells us the color of the day is green, we know the real color of the day remains purple, that of the season of Lent.

I've had a fuller than expected day, which is why this reflection is coming out as you may be leaving work or preparing for dinner, rather than when you're settling in at the office or enjoying breakfast. As I look out the window of my church study, I'm struck by what a beautiful afternoon we're enjoying. Though I was less than thrilled by the return of winter earlier this week, I must confess that we have been blessed with something beautiful to look at, and I do so knowing the snow cover won't be here all that long.  So I resolve now to enjoy this fleeting gift. Our days, too, fly by faster than we ever anticipate.  This Lent is a good season to reflect on the precious gift of time.  How do you use your time?  Do your choices glorify God?  Do they bring you closer to Jesus?  Do they allow room for the Holy Spirit?  Just a few questions for us to ponder this afternoon ...

Today, people across the Northeast are digging out from yesterday's late winter storm.  The blizzard was unwelcome, dumping a foot or more of snow in many places.  The weather system was named "Winter Storm Stella" but it might as easily have been called "Lenten Storm Sin." Think about it.  How often do we find ourselves thinking we've finally got a handle on those things we shouldn't be doing, those attitudes that separate us from God and God's people, those actions that lead us down the wrong path, only to find ourselves buried under an avalanche of, well, sin?  It happens to the best of us.  Fortunately, we are reminded in Lent that we can always dig ourselves out -- with God's help.  That's a good thing, because we sometimes find ourselves in messes of our own making that our beyond our ability to make things right. This Lent, as we clean up from yet another storm, let's also focus on digging out from under our piles

Yesterday while I was taking the dog for a walk I was delighted to spot a snow owl.  I got a good look at the great bird but before I could snap a picture, he took wing and flew away.  That was an impressive sight.  Imagine my pleasure when walking back I saw the same owl had returned to his perch.   This time he stayed put and I had a chance to photograph him before he flew off.  This owl was a reminder of the nature of God's grace: it surprises us and is beyond our control.  It's also something we have a better chance of experiencing if we are alert and observant to what is going on in God's Creation. This Lent I hope that through prayer, reflection, and repentance we will all be able to open our hearts, minds, and souls to God's life-giving grace.

The sky is a brilliant, clear blue this morning, with no sign of the impending last season blizzard that has been forecast for tomorrow.  So, I'm presented with a choice: focus on this moment, or grow anxious about the weather that may well play havoc with my schedule.  Like many, I will be tempted by the latter.  But Scripture reminds us that this is the day the Lord has made.  And if that's the case, should I not make the most of this moment?  Of course we should be prepared for the future.  But to do so at the expense of the present is to negate a precious gift that has been given to us by God. During Lent, we modern Americans, with our overbooked days, our way-too-busy lives, would do well to adopt a discipline of being faithful stewards of the gift of time.

This morning we recalled the story of God's call to Abram to leave his home and move to a new land.  During Lent, we are on spiritual journeys of our own.  We are called, too, to leave the comfort of the familiar so that we might explore the possibilities of life in God's new creation.  Traveling in such a way entails risk.  We need to leave behind the security blankets of our preferences, our vices, our prejudices, our sin.  Fortunately, we are not alone.  Just as God was with Abram every step of the way, he will be with us as we make our way to the cross -- and beyond.

As I approached the children's section of the bookstore this morning I saw a sign on a table advertising "Easter Books."  As a member in good standing of the liturgical-industrial complex, my first thought was "It's still Lent!"  That, of course, proved to be the least of my concerns for as I looked at the books on offer, I saw a whole lot of volumes featuring cute little bunnies and not one as far as I could tell about Jesus.  So, my internal rant changed to, "It's not about the bunnies!" Now, I like cute furry animals as much as the next guy.  But the most important important day of the Christian year and, I would argue, the world-changing event it marks is not about cute critters but God's saving, reconciling act on the cross.  Unfortunately, we Christians, as much as marketers, often lose sight of this truth.  We'll spend lots of time focusing on the joy of the day, the hope of spring and new life, but we'll conv

This morning I found a surprise on my desk.  Someone had left me a bell.  Whether this was the intent, I was reminded that Easter is coming. At our church we ring bells on Easter morning when we sing our say "Alleluia."  And so, the unexpected appearance of an object of unknown provenance was a moment of grace in Lent, a harbinger of what is to come.  On a cold, grey day, I was able to look forward to the Feast of the Resurrection and imagine what is in store. As we pursue our Lenten disciplines I hope and pray that each of is able to make use of the great gift of imagination with which we've been blessed by our Creator.  May our thoughts take flight as we contemplate the wondrous things God has done, including raising Jesus from the dead that death might be vanquished and offering us forgiveness that we might not be captive to sin.

The morning wind is blustery this morning, bringing to mind cliches about March's arriving like a lion.  It also reminds me of the way we can approach the small matter of our sins.  We can bluster, bloviate, prevaricate, rant, rave, rage, declaim, deny that we have sinned, that there is anything for which we must make amends or, gasp, atone.  And if there is, well, it can be blamed on someone or something else. Fortunately for us, God is used to blustery humans.  He can take anything we will throw at him, let it pass by, and keep an eye on us as we really and truly are.  In doing so, God, through patience and steadfastness, enables us to confront our sins of omission and commission so that we may set things right and move to a place of peace and grace where we need not rely on bluster to live our lives but can instead engage in honest relationships with God and God's people.

This morning I saw cardinals and blue jays skylarking.  They wheeled, dove, soared, and just seemed to be having a grand time.  My heart soared for this was a welcome sign of the coming of Spring.  Sure, this being New England we could yet be hit by another epic blizzard.  But the odds of that happening decrease with every day.  Winter will pass, Spring will arrive, just as Lent will be succeeded by Easter.  But we're not there yet.  As a reminder, the birds were soon gone and thoughts of tomorrow were soon replaced by a focus on the present moment. The birds will return, their songs will be heard.  For the time being, though, I will content my self with a memory and offer a prayer of thanksgiving to God for the splendor of his creation.

I had a meeting in Hanover yesterday afternoon and decided to pick up a cup of tea at Starbucks beforehand.  All was well as I waited my turn and the line moved quickly.  Until I was standing next to the bags of Jamaican Blue Coffee. Many of you know that I give up coffee for Lent. Many of you know that Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee is, well, the apotheosis of coffee. I wanted to buy a bag.  But to what purpose?  To have it sit around for five and a half weeks?  To make it easier to subvert my Lenten discipline?  I'll confess, I picked up a bag and enjoyed the aroma.  But then I put it down.  My Lenten practice meant more to me than a really good cup of Joe.  This doesn't make my virtuous or holy.  Just blessed to enjoy a moment of clarity when I was able to focus on what was truly important, meaningful and, indeed, life giving to me.  I pray that you will have similar moments during this Lenten season.

For many people, Monday marks the beginning of the work week.  It's a day to make plans for the days ahead, to get things in order.  Calls might be made, meetings scheduled, orders placed, schedules set.  This routine even follows many people into retirement.  If this patter sounds familiar, I invite you to add a task to your to-do list for the day: think about something you can do to live deeper into Lent.   Give up something, take on something new.  Spend some more time praying.  Think about a sin and how you make amends.  Then commit to when you're going to act on this during the coming week.  But don't hesitate: before you know it, it will be Tuesday, and then you'll have only four days during this work week to draw closer to God and God's people. 

Time does indeed fly.  This morning I planned to send out a reflection before worship but one thing led t another and here we are at lunch time.  There's a salutary lesson here for us as we start Lent.  Our forty days and forty nights will be gone before we know it.  We shouldn't fool ourselves into thinking that since Easter isn't until mid-April we have plenty of time before we need to begin reflecting on our sins and focusing on how to get right with God.  Time is limited, and it is fleeting.  The time to dive into Lent is not next week, not even tomorrow, not even later today, but right now.

A few days ago, we were basking in May-like temperatures, but today, it's cold, very, very cold. This seems like a good way to start Lent.  It's easy to jump ahead to deep Spring, but we need to be present in this season.  So, too, with Easter and Lent.  We may want to fast forward to Easter, but we need to be fully engaged with this part of the liturgical year.  Let's resolve to make the most of these forty days and forty nights, to be present to the Spirit, to heed Jesus's call to introspection and reflection, repentance and renewal.  Spring will come, of that we are sure.  For now, though, let's enjoy the brisk weather, which may help us to be more alert to this moment.

This has been one of the worst cold seasons I can recall enduring.  To usher in Lent, the viral head cold he fought earlier this year returned with a vengeance.  It is, to say the least, an unwelcome visitor.  Still, it has its uses.  For example, it reminded me of sin.  Sin is one of those things in our lives that just keeps on coming back.  We think we may have licked it, but we haven't.  As Christians, we take comfort in the knowledge that Jesus came to deal with this problem once and for all.  But that doesn't mean we're let off the hook. We'll still do things we shouldn't do and we'll still not do those things we should do as surely as the sun will rise in the East tomorrow.  During Lent, we have an opportunity to engage in some preventive spiritual health care.  We can be aware of where we trip up, we can direct our energy into activities that will strengthen our faith and help us draw nearer to God.  And we can confess that we will get sick.

It's quite blustery here in the Upper Valley today.  There's a meteorological explanation, I'm sure.  But I'd like to think it's the Holy Spirit, blowing the sleep from our eyes and awakening us to the possibilities of Lent.  This isn't a season in which we suffer through self-abnegation but instead is a time when we can rediscover through careful and prayerful self-examination how we can be the people that God intends us to be.  We are given this time to let go of those things that stunt our growth in faith or preclude us from drawing closer to the One who has made us.  We are called to open the proverbial windows, to let a fresh breeze blow in, and to begin the process of becoming people equipped to receive the good news of Easter.

Today we begin our Lenten journey with prayer and the imposition of ashes.  Where do you hope to be when this ends?  We know the destination is the cross and the empty tomb, but what do you hope to experience, to learn, to change during the coming weeks?  Remember the words of today's liturgy, "from dust you have come, to dust you will return."  Think of your mortality.  Think of the gift of life you have received from God.  Think of how you might faithfully and wisely use this season to get right with God and God's people.