The Mainline Minister

Luke 2:1-20 In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 All went to their own towns to be registered. 4 Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5 He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. 8  In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9 Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see

Well, it's been a weird Advent, a now seemingly normal feature of this strange year.  Yet despite the upheavals, the inconveniences, the protocols, the dissension, we have arrived at a safe harbor.  Today is Christmas Eve and for the moment we will celebrate our Lord's birth.  Services might be different, gatherings altered, but still we celebrate that miraculous night in Bethlehem long ago.  This day let us focus on the peace, the joy, and the wonder of this day, of what happened 2,000 years ago and is happening this night.  Let us give thanks that Jesus is born and we are safe in God's loving arms.    

Everything is out of sync this year.  Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and we'll be doing two services live, but our third one will be recorded and we're doing that today.  And then there's Sunday's service, which we've also been working on today and will record tomorrow.  At moments it feels as if everything is spinning out of control - the schedule, the technology. And then I remember I'm not alone.  I've got colleagues with which to work, a family that's supportive, and a God who is with me at every moment. So even though things may seem like they're out of control and not in sync, I know that ultimately everything is where and when it should be, thanks to the One who comes to us in Jesus.

Today is the day after the winter solstice.  That means that every day between now and late June will be longer than its predecessor!  Sure, it seems gray and gloomy this morning and we didn't get to see the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn yesterday and the pandemic is still raging and, and, and ... Time out.  Advent is coming to an end.  During this season of anticipation and repentance, we have hopefully regained our perspective.  We choose whether to focus on the light or the dark.  We know that Jesus will soon be born.  I prefer to focus on light.  I hope you do, too.

Today is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year.  You've probably heard by now about the conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter, which should be quite a sight.  Of course, this being 2020, the sky will probably be overcast obscuring this celestial event. But rather than be pessimistic, I will indulge in some optimism, some hope, that we will be able to see what has been dubbed "The Christmas Star" - even though Christmas isn't until the 25th and Jesus was likely born in March.  Still, it's the thought that counts, right?  Advent is all about hopeful anticipation, and we're coming to its glorious conclusion. I choose to welcome Christ with an open heart.  What about you?  Will you join me?  Will you look heavenward, confident that, clouds or no clouds, Our Lord is coming to be with us?

I honestly don't know whether referring to "girl power" is, as they now say, "problematic."  I use it with reference to today's Scripture readings with only the greatest of respect.  The stories of Scripture are as much about women as they are men.  Consider Hannah, mother of Samuel, and Mary, mother of Jesus, who were two strong, empowered women whose faith guided their lives, example and morals shaped their sons, and witness that inspired the faithful for generations.  As we approach Christmas, let us remember these two women who have done so much to shape the faith through their commitment, grit, and love.

  This morning I checked the temperature, and it was -11 degree.  Yes, eleven below 0.  That's cold, very cold. It's days like this that I'm especially grateful for shelter.  We all take a roof over our heads for granted.  But not everyone is so fortunate and as we are reminded at this time of year, the Holy Family, including the Baby Jesus, were homeless. We should give thanks for a place to be on a cold winter's night and work for a world in which all are similarly blessed.

I've had two experiences in the last 24 hours that exemplified grace, which is the unwarranted, unexpected gifts we receive from God. The first was the surprise that somebody, I still do not know who, plowed our driveway.  For those of you not who do not live in the Upper Valley, we received two feet of snow.  Somebody spared me hours of shoveling. The other was that the person ahead of me in the drive-through line, identity unknown, at Dunkin' Donuts paid for my order this morning. My response was one of gratitude and, frankly, surprise.  This is what grace is like and these acts were a wonderful Advent gift. In the coming days we will celebrate Christmas and the greatest act of grace of all time: the blessing of Jesus.  For this, we should all say thanks and express our gratitude, and perhaps do things that will seem like acts of grace to others.

  Well, the big snow is here, falling fast and piling up.  It's just like snows of past years -- with one big ex ception: no snow days.  School is in session, thanks to remote learning.  This is another thing that we can comment on with the hoary words: "Back when I was a kid ..." Change is always with us, sometimes it's welcome , sometimes not.  But with all that is shifting around us, with all the dizzying disruptions in our lives, this remains true: God is with us and God is coming to us.  In just one week we will celebrate Christmas Eve together, remotely.  But we will be together and God, Immanuel, will be right there by our sides. Enjoy the snow today, if you can.  Be safe if you have to drive.  And make the most of these last days of Advent!

We're supposedly going to have our first big snowstorm of the winter.  Of course, we thought that a couple of weeks ago, and rather than six inches of powder, we got a lot of rain.  Still, it always makes sense to prepare.  So, we hear alerts on the radio, see foreboding images on our smartphones, and make sure that rock salt and shovels are deployed.  For the moment, though, we wait.  We can see something on the horizon and so we are mentally prepared. Something else is on the horizon: Christmas.  This time of Advent is when we can sense its impending arrival.  We don't know exactly what will happen, but we know it's big, frankly much bigger than a snowstorm.  Let's use these final days of preparation to ready ourselves for the arrival of the Christ-child - he's just over the horizon and he's coming!

I had planned on writing and sending this to all of you at 8:30 this morning.  That obviously did not happen, as one thing led to another.  I'm not complaining - it's been a productive day and it's not yet over.  And waiting until now afforded me the opportunity to participate in my weekly sermon preparation group and reflect on what I learned - and how it might be applicable to my devotional writing. Each week we discuss the readings in the Revised Common Lectionary, which is the cycle of readings we follow at our church.  That in itself is kind of neat as this discussion group originates at a parish of the Church of England.  Right there, we see the striving for the universality of the Christian faith put into practice.  This morning, one of the facilitators noted of the Epistle reading that there was a lot there in its three short verses but it wasn't the right passage for this coming Sunday, just before Christmas.  He thought the proper preaching text

This morning I had this sudden realization that Christmas is almost here.  With it came a brief twinge of panic.  Now, it's not as if I've been ignoring Christmas.  I've known all along when it was going to happen.  And I've even tried to live into Advent.  But there was that sudden frisson of time running out that I couldn't shake.  Services to prepare, meetings to attend, other things that need to be by a date certain.  So, what to do? One option is to procrastinate.  As my first boss used to say, "There's nothing you can do today that won't wait until tomorrow." Another option would be to run around in a frenzy. And then there's the Advent option.  Take a moment to pray, to sit with God, to get ready and then attack the work that needs to be done.  Christmas is coming!  But not for a week and a half ...

  I recently saw a meme on Facebook that had been reposted by someone I know.  No cats, no gags using a picture of that dashing rum pitchman whose name I don't recall.  Instead, it said that back when people had H1N1 flu, if they felt sick, they stayed home, and nobody had to wear a mask, and wondered why we can't just do that again?  Aside from the willful ignorance comparing the two, the fantasy that one would somehow just "know" they were infected with the coronavirus, was the blatant selfishness that underlay the whole message. There's this weird notion abroad in the land that my liberty means nobody can expect me to do anything for anyone else, that freedom means I won't be inconvenienced in any way.  These ideas have nothing to do with any reasonable way of thinking.  John Donne, the great English poet and cleric, penned the immortal words, "No man is an island."  He is lifting up a very Christian idea, that we are interconnected,

Saturday has long been a day to rest.  Rooted in the Jewish tradition of a sabbath on the seventh day of the week, we have long seen the need for a day to catch up, take a break, relax.  For most of history, this was aspirational.  The day off in the Christian world was Sunday, the Christian sabbath.  But society ultimately came to appreciate the need for a weekend, and while this is not universally observed, even here in the United States, it's something worth recognizing and appreciating. We in the church should acknowledge this as a holy thing.  We take a break each week not because of fair labor legislation but because God took one and ordained that we should, too.  So, if you kick back and put up your feet today, remember that what you are doing is sacred and treat that time appropriately.

  Witness When we hear the word 'witness' we most likely think of someone who has seen something, perhaps a crime being committed.  The witness is in all likelihood a passive observer.  That's true as far as it goes - but the meaning of this word can go so much further.  Think of John the Baptist. We will meet this austere figure once again this Sunday and what stands out about him is that he testifies to the one who is coming.  He witnesses to the pending arrival of Christ.  Here, being a witness doesn't so much involve seeing something but telling others about something that has happened, or will happen. Will you witness to what God has done, is doing, and will do in your life and in the world? It's something to pray on and think about during this Advent season.

Does the title seem random?  I hope not.  As Christians, we are called to give thanks to God unceasingly.  While there may be times when we have nothing to give thanks for, I would be got to differ.  Just think of this season of the church year - Advent - and who we are awaiting: the baby Jesus.  The Christchild, it goes without saying, is definitely worthy of our gratitude.  So take a moment for thanksgiving today!

I just found myself staring at a blank screen, unsure of what to write today.  This has happened to me in the past.  Have you had a similar experience?  Are there times when you aren't sure what to say, or to write, or to do, or to pray?  With prayer we at least know God will pay attention, even if we're feeling inarticulate or unsure of how we should pray.  If we pay attention in those moments, we may see our sense of being lost is an illusion and something like the writing of today's message unfolds.  Before we know it, we have a prayer, or a devotional.  God does indeed work in mysterious ways.

If any word describes this year, I think it might be "weird".  Seeing people on Zoom, talking to people while wearing a mask, worrying about spreading or catching the virus has upended our routines.  Yet all the while some things stay the same - including Advent.  We still expect Baby Jesus to "arrive" on the evening of December 24, no matter what it is going on.  That reminder of God's ever-present faithfulness will help us get through this weird season and through all the times that follow.

I'm off to a later than usual start today, but it's not because I've been loafing.  Really, This morning I went to drop off a few things at the Listen store on the Miracle Mile.  When I got there, there was a line of cars, which I joined.  Eventually, it was my turn to make a donation.  The staff were helpful as always and took my things away. Now, I'm grateful we have the Listen store here in the Upper Valley.  No-longer-needed items get a second life with somebody else.  But what does it say about our region that we can support a huge thrift store?  Something is not right here.  I think that this may be a situation where we need to look to the personal and the societal.  We should all be ready to give away that which we don't need, to make somebody else's day brighter and easier.  We should all give thanks for organizations like Listen.  But we should not be content with the status quo.  We should want, and work, for a world where everybody is p

Nevermind? My first instinct this morning was to say "nevermind".  We in the Upper Valley were spared the heap of snow that fell on other parts of New England.  A dusting, a little ice and that was it for the Nor'easter in my part of the world.  But the news reported heavy snow in other parts of the region and some 200,000 people without power at one point. So nevermind the nevermind.  During Advent we prepare for Jesus' coming.  But as the Gospel tells us we know not the time or hour when he will return.  So we keep alert and make ready, for God may come anywhere. With a winter storm, we make community-wide or regional preparations, not just plans for our individual homes because we can't know everything.  Now, we also prepare for Jesus birth and Christ's coming, acknowledging our own finitude and grateful for God's grace.  

We're supposed to be hit by a Nor'easter this afternoon and tonight.  Some 10" of snow could fall but past experience suggests that total may vary.  Still, I ran around this morning bringing things inside and running errands so I don't have to be outside when the nasty weather arrives.  All of this, of course, is very much in the spirit of Advent.  We may not know exactly what is going to happen when Jesus arrives but we know it will be a big deal -- so, we get ready. Enjoy the snow, stay warm, and be prepared - a big storm is coming and so is the Christ-child!

Who or what do you pray for?  How do you pray?  When do you pray?  To whom do you pray? That last question may seem a bit surprising, since we will all probably say "God".  But we often live our lives as if our ultimate trust is placed not in the Almighty but someone or something else.  I don't know that this is all that unusual - we're all fallible humans, after all. Advent is a good time to take a step back, to refocus our attention, and our energies on the One who made us, who loves us, and who came to us in Jesus.  I invite you to join me in thinking and praying about this in the days ahead.

Charitably put, things are a mess right now.  I'll let you assemble a list of all that's wrong in the world right now.  We'll probably cite some of the same things and differ on others.  But during this season of Advent, we shouldn't focus so much on the past as on what comes next, particularly the question of "now what?" Now what are we going to do to draw closer to God? Now what are we going to do grow deeper in faith? Now what are we going to do to make God's world a better place? Not to minimize our problems, but we have more agency to clean up the mess we're in than we might at first see.  This season, leading up to Christmas, is a great time to fix things, or to at least make them less difficult. So let's get to work.  Jesus is coming!

Do you have a discipline that you follow in your life?  Perhaps you follow a diet or go for a walk every day.  Maybe you read or knit.  Disciplines take work, but they also can have big payoffs.  Now let's focus on our faith.  Do we have religious disciplines?  Do we pray, or read the Bible, or serve others intentionally, each day?  Advent is a good time to take up or to renew or to redouble a discipline.  For what we do in faith will bring us closer to God.  And that will help to prepare us for the arrival of the Christ-child later this month.

We often hear about how we should be leaders, in both secular and religious settings.  But if everybody leads, who will follow?  And what does this mean for our relationship with Jesus?  Should we be leading Jesus and expect him to follow us?  Of course not.  Sometimes, we need to follow. Figuring out when we should lead and when we should follow is the work of discernment.  We pray, we listen, and hopefully, we are open to the promptings of the holy spirit.  During Advent, let's remember the Star of Bethlehem - the one the magi followed to the stable and the Christ-child, to hope, and grace, and peace.

Yesterday I was discussing with Chip what the last possible date for Advent might be.  November 29, this year's First Sunday of Advent, was closer to that date (December 3) than it was to the first potential (November 23).  Interesting, yes, but does it really matter?  We'll always have four Sundays in Advent, and Christmas will always fall on December 25.  What *really* matters to me is not so much the calendar but the time that will pass.  How will we use it?  What will we do?  Will we actually engage in any preparation? Now is the moment for us to pray on this, to make plans, to be intentional about this season of the church.  With God's help, I'm sure that we can all make the most of this Advent, and be ready to meet the baby Jesus when he arrives later in December.

Happy (Church) New Year!  Today we begin Advent, a time of anticipation and repentance.  Are you ready?  Do you feel like maybe you need an Advent for Advent, a time to get ready to get ready?  I can't offer you any extra time, but I will offer an unoriginal suggestion: make the most of the time you have.  In the next 26 days, focus on what is truly important and let go of what is not.  It may sound simple but doing this can be surprisingly difficult.  It will be worth the effort.  Just think - in less than four weeks, Baby Jesus will be with us!  Let's get ready, let's make a new start.

He Is Risen! In past years, I have sent the Scripture story of the Resurrection as my last reflection of the season.  Today, I'm going to do that, but not just yet.  I would ask first that we reflect on the amazing thing that God has done in Jesus Christ.  His life, his being raised from the dead.  Jesus Christ is the center of our faith, a faith that proclaims the triumph of hope, goodness and life.  In this season of coronavirus we might lose sight of that fact.  And though it might seem trite or like fodder for a meme, Jesus is bigger than a virus.  That doesn't mean we should ignore medical experts, far from it.  God gave us brains, after all.  But as we look to gain some perspective, as our present crisis goes from acute to chronic, as we adjust to living with the inconveniences and dislocation, we should remember that God's world is good . My hope, my prayer, is that during this time of resurrection, we as a society will be inspired by Jesus to re

This morning when I woke up, it was sunny with a light breeze blowing.  There were a few clouds on the horizon, but they seemed to be there to offer a visual contrast, rather than portend threatening weather.  All was calm, all was quiet.  My thoughts turned immediately to the very stormy night I spent aboard a friend's sail boat moored in the waters of the Penobscot Bay.  It was everything one imagined.  The boat rocked, the wind howled, the hull's wooden planks creaked (or at least they did in my recollection). The space belowdecks was not exactly cavernous. But we were warm, dry, protected from the storm.  Roger had piloted the Blue Goose to a protected cove, so we could have some protection from the raging storm.  While I was grateful for and confident in his seamanship, I wanted nothing more than for that night to be over.  And ultimately it was. We awoke in the morning to clear skies and calm seas.  The storm had broken.  I don't recall the spe

We have arrived at Good Friday, the darkest day of the Christian year.  The day when hope was quashed, light was put out, death triumphed, Jesus went to the Cross.  Though we know how this story will ultimately end, it is important for us to now focus on all that has gone wrong, all that can go wrong, in our lives and the lives of others, whether by accident, circumstance, bad choices, or, yes, the perpetuation of human evil. Spend some time today imagining you are at the cross, helpless to aid Jesus in his final hours.  How do you feel? What would you do?  Be honest - there is no right answer, only a faithful one. And on this day, we surely need faith.

Today marks the start of the Triduum, the three holy days leading up to Easter, and commences with the Maundy Thursday liturgy, which we traditionally say in the evening.  Of course, this year is unlike other years, and we recorded the liturgy at church yesterday, in the afternoon, before taking a break to record the Good Friday service.  But fear not, we'll have a live Maundy Thursday service this evening.  Are you now confused?  I know I am.  Services are being celebrated on days not assigned by the liturgical calendar, all sorts of things are being moved around, and people (i.e., me) are tired. But I'm not complaining.  Really.  All of the days on the liturgical calendar will still take place at their appointed times.  We will still celebrate Easter on Sunday morning.   Which means we still have a few days left for Lenten reflection and repentance.  Our current situation, as troubling as it may be, still pales when compared with the great gift of Easter. 

Whimsy is probably the first word one associates with the Lenten season, so bear with me.  Last night, I saw that WQXR, the classical station in New York, was hosting a livestream of pianist Jeremy Dank, playing excerpts from and commenting on Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier.  Dank played like the consumate pro he is and while at it looked sideways directly into the camera to talk with his viewers.  It was quite a performance.  Skilled, charming, whimsical, just what the proverbial doctor ordered during this weird time, this wholly unusual Lent. It occurred to me during this season, that I'm seeing and connecting with people in many ways.  I participated in a Lenten roundtable discussion about the Resurrection in the morning, offering a needed reminder of the great thing that God does for us through Jesus, later I waved to parishioner driving by my house; he honked, and I felt a welcome sense of the familiar and normal.  I talked with another congregant who ca

Today is Tuesday of Holy Week, a normally quiet moment during these last days of the Lenten season.  But this year, things are different.  I'm participating in a zoom roundtable this afternoon, and I have Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter services and sermons to get done.  Thanks to the technology we can bring worship to people in their homes - and that's good.  But it's a lot of work!  And it can't be pushed off to Friday or Saturday, since we have to meet deadlines for the post office (not everyone is online, so we mail things to them).  So it's not quiet.  Not at all. Now, I'm not complaining.  I'm blessed to have work.  I'm blessed to be doing something I find meaningful.  I'm blessed to have all of you in my life. So, I'll take a moment to pause, to reflect, to give thanks.  I hope as busy or as quiet as your day is, you, too, will find a moment to offer gratitude to the God who came to us in Jesus Christ.

How are you on this sunny, at least in Northern NH, Monday?  More to the point, how are you on this Monday of Holy Week?  I will hazard the guess that the coronavirus outbreak is making this a weird, unusual, and potentially stressful Lent.  You may be feeling anxiety, boredom, fear, grief, anger. I hope that you will also feel gratitude. Gratitude for God's good creation. Gratitude for family and friends. Gratitude for unseen and unknown blessings. Gratitude for the unearned love and grace of God that supports and surrounds us during times of trouble and need, that at this very moment is seeking out each of us. Let us give thanks to God for all of the gifts, large and small, in our lives, and let us ask forgiveness for all too often forgetting to say 'thank you'.

Today, we begin Holy Week.  The excitement is palpable as Jesus makes his entry into Jerusalem, we can hear the crowds cheering, see the palm fronds waving, sense that something big is about to happen. Well, something big did happen.  It just wasn't anything like what people expected.  That surely will be the motif for this year's Holy Week, as we celebrate and commemorate in new, strange ways.  We are entering the heart of the Christian year, but doing so differently, with some confusion, some ignorance, but hopefully a belief that the God we know in Jesus is with us every step of the way, even if we take a new route to our destination.

It's Saturday morning and I'm confused.  I know there have been a lot "what day is it?" jokes lately, but I think I have stronger grounds for feeling lost.  You see, yesterday we recorded tomorrow's Palm Sunday service.  That's right.  Holy Week started early for me.  But then it will take place right on schedule, too, as we have a live zoom service.  If ever I've felt cognitive dissonance, this Lent, and especially this Holy Week, is the time. Schedule have been upended.  Work patterns redrawn.  Meeting formats changed.  Yet what am I complaining about?  I do not in any way, shape, or form mean to diminish the awfulness of what we're experiencing, but, all told, I have no reason to complain.  I have food.  I have the internet.  I have books.  Most important, everyone in my family is safe and well.  If the worst I have to endure is jarring inconvenience, I can do that.  With God's help, we all can. During these final days of L

It's gloomy today.  Rainy, cold, just plain blah.  But it could be worse.  The forecast had originally called for a wintry mix.  I don't know about you, but I'm done with snow for this year.  I'm looking forward to sunshine and warm temperatures, all the things that come with spring and summer.  It's all about perspective, I guess.  Keeping our eyes focused on what matters, and not on the latest distraction or nuisance, is key to navigating Lent.  It's also important to dealing with the coronavirus outbreak. While it's okay to be annoyed or scared, I don't think we are helped much by panic or unbridled fear. Then we get lost in the morass of our sin, we contribute to the problems surrounding our current health crisis. The rain will pass.  Lent will end.  The coronavirus will fade.  We will move forward, with God's help.

"The Cruelest Month" Perhaps you recognize this reference.  It's a description of April from "The Waste Land", by T.S. Eliot.  Eliot's poem, written in the aftermath of the First World War, noted the irony of spring, with its new life, in them midst of a broken Europe, lately consumed in a once unimaginable conflict.  These words resonate today in a way they have not my entire life. I remember studying Eliot in school, but it's funny how snippets from a long ago education can resurface later in life.  Sometimes these appearances are totally random, other times they are eerily appropriate.  As we saw his mornings unemployment numbers, some 6.6 million added to the rolls, far eclipsing last weeks already ghastly figures of more than 3 million, we would do well to remember the cruelty of this month, as jobs are lost, careers mourned, fears for the future mount.  These statistics represent real people, someone you or I know, perhaps y

Today is April Fool's Day.  This year, I suspect their won't be as much laughter as there has been in times past.  Humor is a very tricky thing during a pandemic.  But mirth is still part of life.  We still need to smile, to indulge in a little levity.  Otherwise, we won't be able to bear the burdens of the moment. So I'll remind you of an old joke. Bobby was asked if knew what Easter was about.  He eagerly nodded "yes" and began to tell the tale. "Jesus died and was buried in a cave ..." His teacher was pleased. "... And then after three days he came out ..." His teacher was proud of her student. "... And if he saw his shadow it meant six more weeks of winter." Okay, feel free to groan now.  But I hope I was able to take your mind off of things you can't control.  During Lent, during these last days of the penitential season, let us ask for God's forgiveness for failing to se

The impossible seems to have occurred these last couple of weeks.  The constant stream of news to which we have grown accustomed these past three years has turned into a raging river.  It has been, to borrow a phrase, like drinking water from a fire hose.  Alerts are constantly popping up on my phone, the headline story on the NY Times web site is essentially a rolling update of the latest thing to happen, and it's all getting to be too much - and I'm a news junkie. We'd do fine with less news, I believe.  People made it though the Second World War with a newspaper a day, and maybe an evening radio report.  But maybe the real problem is the kind of news we get, the stories that focus our attention.  Click-bait; celebrity break ups; stuff that really doesn't matter in the big scheme of things.  Do I need to know the latest dopey things spouted by a politician during this coronavirus crisis?  Honestly, no.  But the latest from health authorities so I ca

We've reached that point in Lent where many of us want it to be over.  We want Holy Week.  We want Easter.  And, yes, we want chocolate or in my case, coffee.  But as with any journey to a specific destination, it takes so much time to get there, no ifs, ands, or buts.  We can be like the proverbial whiny child in the back seat of the car who incessantly asks "Are we there yet?" and as much as we hope for a surprising answer, we will be told "No." Lent runs for six and one half weeks.  We should not rush it.  We need this time.  And if we're distracted by the news or events or own impatience, perhaps we need to redouble our Lenten disciplines.  Some wag on line has remarked that this is the Lentiest Lent yet.  Perhaps.  What I know is that this is the Lent we have.  Let us live into for all it's worth.  After all, we're nearing the conclusion. Really.

This is the last "regular" week of Lent.  Next Sunday will move into Holy Week, with all of its drama. But nothing feels "regular" or "normal" these days, our schedules are off killer, our daily routines are being reset.  Still, I would encourage us to focus not on the chaos that surrounds us, but on the anchors in our lives.  It is those moorings that help us to endure the storm.  And while the winds may howl and the rains fall, the tempest will someday be over. We often forget that.  We often forget that we each have an anchor named Jesus.  This Lent, which is still not over, let's ask Jesus to forgive us for the times we may have forgotten him, and let's turn to him to help reinforce the patterns in our lives, the ones that help us to live.

As most of my readers know, I preach extemporaneously; this isn't ad-libbing and it isn't memorization.  Extemporaneous preaching involves so much more -- I know my text, I know what I want to say, and I do multiple run throughs, honing what I want to preach, adjusting my message, and stumbling across new insights before I stand up in the puplit on Sunday morning.  This preparation involves a lot of time and preparation, but I believe I'm able to make a better connection with the congregation.  One upshot of all this is that late Saturday afternoons and evenings are work time.  Sometimes, early Sunday morning, too, as I want to get things right. Now all of that is on hiatus.  Due to doing ministry in these strange times, I need to write my sermon out, edit and re-edit, before it's done.  At first, I needed to do this so I would have something to email the congregation.  Now we're supplementing what we email with internet services.  And that create

Late yesterday afternoon the governor of New Hampshire issued a stay-at-home order effective 11:59 tonight.  We here in the Granite State will be joining tens of millions of others and so many more around the world in what amounts to a lock down.  The excitement never stops these days, does it? We've been living with this coronavirus for most of this year.  I recall sitting in a hospital ethics committee meeting in late January discussing what would be the right and prudent thing for our community's medical center to do.  This was a good bu pretty generic conversation.  The reported cases in mainland China at that point amounted to a few hundred.  The threat was real but barely visible.  We talked about the need for the hospital to be addressing this before the crisis broke.  Fortunately, they did.  But our local health care providers are still facing a once-in-a-lifetime pandemic.  The tsunami is going to hit.  All of this has me wondering.  Why do we n

You'll recall that yesterday I wrote about the irony tech mishap that got in the way of a phone call about using ... technology.  Well, today, I have more irony for you, but it's of the kind where everything works out in the end. No sooner had I pressed the send button on my Wednesday reflection, the zoom call connected and got underway. Problem solved, perspective gained, let's move on.  The lesson form all of this is this: no matter how bad, how messed up, how confused things seem, they will normally be alright.  And no matter  what, God will be with us.  We all too often forget that and this Lent is a time to remember this lesson of the faith from Advent. Emmanuel. God (is) with us.

Don't you just love irony?  I know I do - at least when it's in a show or play or book.  When it happens to me, not so much.  I'm supposed to be on a zoom call about technology use in churches.   I'm not because of technical difficulties.  Talk about irony. So what to do?  Well, I'm alternative use of my time - like writing this reflection.  And I'm not fretting, at least not too much.  After all, there's nothing I can do about the problem.  I've checked and it's on the other end.  Oh well. Lent is a time to reflect on lots of things - including the time we waste worrying over things beyond our control.  Every minute of every day is a gift from God.  It's a generous give, but not an endless one.  As the Scripture tells us, we have only so much time, and then it's over.  Let's make use of it in ways that would please the Lord.

The weather here in Northern N.H. is confused.  When I woke up this morning I found that 5 inches of snow had fallen.  Sure, this was good for the resevoirs and water table, but come on, its almost April!  I know that weather at this time of year is often unpredictable, but was this really necessary?  It's all so confusing - I'm pretty sure I saw a couple of flowers making their way through the earth the other day.  Now they're blanketed. This odd weather is of a piece with our confusing times.  We make our way through Lent, with its discomfort as we examine our hearts and confront our sins, to the sure certainty of Easter, when we know that Jesus is resurrected.  Until then, accept that you might be confused, lost, wondering what is going on.  But know that God's love is coming, is indeed here with us now, and that should make it easier to find our way forward.

Life in our "new normal" requires lots of juggling.  School has moved on-line, errands have to be scheduled, and people accommodated.  Handling all of this will require creativity, patience, and a willingness to try new things.  At some point, tensions will likely manifest themselves.  Technology may not work as advertised.  We may lose our temper with another person.  I'm sure you can think of things to add to this list.  I know I will. As we move into this fourth week of Lent, it's a good time for us to once again take stock of our shortcomings, and see how they can lead to sin.  Being tetchy isn't a sin.  Letting your tetchiness lead you to snap at someone can be.  As the old saying supposedly goes, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.  Watch your feet before you walk.  Watch your hands as you juggle.  Look into your hear for God's love to support and sustain you.  

I upgraded my computer operating system yesterday and I can confidently report that I am conflicted.  I am sure this change is doing all sorts of wonderful things behind the scenes, that my gigabytes are byting and my hard drive is purring with new found vigor.  But some of the changes, especially to the Word programs I run on my mac, are irritating.  Why mess up what is working really well?  Change just because some designer is feeling clever isn't always a good thing.  In this crazy world of ours, having some things that don't change, that we can always count on, can provide a welcome source of comfort or strength. Fortunately, we Christians have that something: Jesus Christ, who Scripture tells us, is "the same, yesterday, today, and forever." (Hebrews 13:8)  In this fast-paced, upside-down time of ours, knowing that we can count on the Man from Nazareth, the Messiah, enables us to contend with quarantines, social distancing, even funky new softwar

As most of my readers know, I’ve been giving up coffee for Lent for many years now.   I usually drink a few cups a day, so this gives me an opportunity to reflect on this Lenten season multiple times, every day.   When I first started this, I had to break a caffeine addiction, but that eventually passed.   Still, I must deal with the absence of my favorite morning beverage.   It is fortunate, then, that I know this will come to an end, very early on the morning of April 12.   But I will have to wait for some other things, and I don’t know when they will come back: The camaraderie of coffee hour, the baristas at Lucky’s that know my name, and beyond this coffee situation, this whole darned coronavirus to become something that happened, and not something that is happening, to us. The wait for something indeterminate can be hard and frustrating.   But it can be done.   One of the values of our Lenten disciplines, if we have adopted any, is learning how to wait.  

Yes, spring has arrived.  Despite yesterday's light snowfall and the predicition of more wintry weather in a couple of days, spring has indeed arrived.  To make that point, the mercury is supposed to reach into the 60s today.  How will you take advantage of this?  One thing I know we should not do is succumb to a coronavirus-induced funk.  Take a walk or a run or a bicycle ride when it's not raining (sorry, but afternoon showers are part of the forecast along with the season change), maybe you can grill something tonight, or being a little gardening.  Whatever you do, remember this is the season of new beginnings.  In a few short weeks we will celebrate Easter, somehow, in some place, because we in the church believe in and should act upon God's promise made real in Jesus' resurrection.

"Be safe" - two simple words that have taken on a new urgency, a new poignancy in the present moment.  Before the coronavirus outbreak, we would encourage our children to be safe when playing outside, a spouse to be safe when undertaking a home improvement project involving saws or power tools, a loved one traveling to an unsettled part of the world.  All par for the course.  Now, we wonder about touching someone or breathing on another person.  Be safe.  But does this mean that we stop living?  That we give up all that makes life worthwhile?  No, you can still talk with friends, see friends - as long as you engage in social distancing.  But a few weeks, even a few months of inconvenience is the least we can endure in light of a pandemic the likes of which humanity hasn't seen in a very long time. Why go on about this now?  Well, it's Lent.  A season in which we gain perspective as we reflect on our sins.  To indulge in self-pity can be a sin.  Yes,

The desert, in Scripture, is portrayed a wasteland to pass through, a place of danger, a home to trouble - and as a necessary stop on the way to the future.  The Children of Israel sojourned there, Moses fled there, and, as we recount during this Lenten season, Jesus retreated there.  If you think back to these stories, you'll remember that the desert might be many unpleasant things, but one thing it is not is empty.  Temptation lurks there, and so does disobedience.  But also wonders and if one is alert, God himself, as Moses discovered. Don't misunderstand me: the odds of you encountering a burning bush that is not consumed by fire are pretty much nil.  But during this year's Lent, which has suddenly become charged with the arrival of the coronavirus, be aware of the temptations - to despair, to be angry, to lash out from boredom or stress, and be aware of grace - God's presence is near to each of us, ready to comfort, support, and encourage us.  I

I normally don't go for puns in these messages, but this just seemed appropriate.  The local Irish pub has a bagpiper out front playing his instrument but there won't be any revelry as they announced yesterday they'd be closed for the duration of the coronavirus outbreak.  Making matters even sadder, it's cold and overcast and a light snow is falling this morning.  All of this is, indeed, blah inducing. It's easy right now to feel sorry for ourselves.  But if we reflect on our reality, most of us are pretty well off in this situation.  We have roofs over our heads, access to food, TV, internet.  If the worse thing that happens to us over the next few weeks is an acute case of boredom, we won't have much to complain about.  This is a crisis with severe ramifications but it isn't the Black Death, where a quarter of the population died. Perhaps this is a bit Pollyanish of me. But I think as we deal with this situation, we must maintain ou

Well, our strange little world keeps getting weirder.  Everybody has shut things down for two to three weeks just in time for the CDC to say we should prepare to disengage for eight weeks. I have no reason to doubt this advice.  But I wonder how people are doing with all of this.  Most of us have seen at least one movie with an Apocalyptic theme.  Whatever the plot, every such film shares this in common: they're usually over in two hours and then we can return to our lives. This time it's different.  The run time is 9,408 hours and the movie is our lives.  Can you imagine almost 10,000 hours of drinking water from a fire hose and being bored out of your mind?  I can't.  But that's where we are.  Time will crawl and time will speed by as we process and experience this event.  Through it all, we'll adjust.  And to help us keep track of the days will be Lent. Many of us could make better use of our time.  Lent is at time to reflect on this, to re

By now, everybody is familiar with the clunky, anti-septic phrase: Social Distancing.  While it's not elegant, it tells us what we need to know.  Stay away from crowds, keep your distance.  For those of us in the church, it's an especially weird thing to do.  We not only have worship services, but meetings, and visits, and so many other activities that involve being with other people.  For many of us, that has now changed. But how much?  We anticipate this all coming to an end.  Unlike some awful Apocalyptic movie, there will be significant disruption, but no end to civilization as we know it.  Sooner or later, and I like most everybody else pray sooner, life will resume its normal rhythms.  Perhaps people will be yearning for actual social contact and will have grown bored with binge watching TV.  Imagine a world where social media is less important and getting together with others takes on new importance.  A crazy dream?  Perhaps not.  Consider if you'

This past week has been mind-boggling with the news moving at breakneck speed and yesterday was no different.  At church, we've suspended services and are making plans to get worship materials into people's mailboxes tomorrow morning.  We've communicated with our community partners about our closure.  So, plans were made, and all is well, right? Not quite.  This pandemic is like a wave coming at us.  We can see it clearly, but it has not yet crested nor broken.  Things will most likely get worse before they get better.  What does this mean for us as Christians?  We are not to give up hope.  We know that after Good Friday, Easter Sunday will follow.  So for now we pray, we find ways to remember we're part of a community, we listen to health experts, and we continue with our lives. Lent is a time for us to reflect and repent, but also a time for us to remind ourselves of the presence of God.  Jesus came to us, not to make our problems simply vanish,

Do you feel like there's too much going on right now?  Politics, the economy, coronavirus, the list goes on.  Even though the NCAA has cancelled its annual basketball Bacchanalia, and millions of office pools have now been stowed away, we sure are going to have March Madness this year.  If you don't believe, just open the paper, boot up your computer, or turn on a television: it's crazy out there right now. In the midst of all the nuttiness, all the weirdness in our lives, we are blessed to have the God we know in Jesus and through the Holy Spirit by our side.  He is our rock as the storm rages, our comfort in uncertain times.  He is our rock and our redeemer.  This is always worth remembering, but especially so during Lent.  We all too often turn to other refuges, some even unhealthful, during moments of crisis.  It's in those moments especially that we should remember that God love us, that God is waiting for us. So, if you're still looking

FDR said it best, "We have nothing to fear but fear itself."  These days, there's a lot of fear going around.  Political. Economic. And, of course, viral.  The truth is, fear in some quantity is not a bad thing.  Fear of being eaten keeps most of us from poking our heads into the bear cage.  But like most things in life, moderation is called for.  We cannot let ourselves be slaves to fear, to worship fear.  When we do that, we stop worshiping God.  So during these uncertain times, let us resolve to draw on the grace of our Lord, to face fear confidently, wisely, humbly, to not let fear shape our lives.

This morning I heard birdsong.  It was lovely, it was delightful, it was welcome.  There's enough bad news in the world these days that some joy is welcome.  Even in the midst of Lent, a season of penitence, we can still marvel at the beauty of God's creation and remember that this season will end, not in sadness, but in the celebration of Easter.  Praise God!

I'm writing this much later than expected for a variety of reasons I won't get into.  But at least I'm writing it.  And I think that's an important thing to keep in mind during the Lenten season.  You may have a discipline -- and at some point you may slip up and forget to forego that chocolate or coffee.  But guess what?  You need not fret.  You haven't failed in any cosmic sense.  You just need to pick yourself up and resume your discipline.  There's always a "later" available to the one doing penance.  Just make sure "later" doesn't become "never" and you'll be okay.  So will I.  After all, God is looking at the intent behind our practices and not just the mechanics.  So should we.

I'm up early today, heading to Boston for a meeting at the Congregational Library.  You'll probably be asleep when I sent this and I'm jealous of you.  Still, I look forward to all this day holds in store.  As I've noted before, this is the day the Lord has made.  This day.  We are called to live it to the fullest, inasmuch as we can.  And to do that, we may need to repent for things we've done, actions we've taken that have led us away from the God who made us.  Everyday, we have a chance to reflect on what we might do -- and we should not have done.  We do this not to engage in some kind of spiritual self abuse, but so we might clear the decks of our spiritual obstacles and be prepared to enjoy what God has in store for us.

How often do we try to see things from someone else's perspective?  Do we do this often? Do we even try?  If we're honest with ourselves, we may be surprised by our answers.  I've been mulling this over the past few days and I think that one of the fears we have is that if we do this, if we really empathize, we will lose ourselves.  How can we be expected to give up our most cherished beliefs and practices? To this question, I offer a simple reply: nobody is telling you to do this.  Empathizing may well take us to a new place, but it may also return us home - but not after some new perspectives, some additional knowledge, some real feeling. Lent is a time to repent for the sin of a failure to empathize, which can be a form of narcissism.  And the narcissistic have no room for God in their lives, do they? Let's repent, let's be a bit more empathetic today.

Tonight (or more accurately, tomorrow morning at 2:00 AM) we will set our clocks forward one hour and begin our annual ritual of thinking we are the masters of time.  We are not.  Never have been, never will be.  We may track it ever more precisely, but despite our best efforts, it still marches on.  The seasons pass, people age and die, the world goes on.  Nothing will really change other than I will lose an hours sleep before a busy day. I know I sound like the proverbial cranky old man yelling at kids to stay off his lawn but I think we have a bigger problem here, one that preoccupied the ancient Greek dramatists: hubris.  We think we are bigger, better, more important than we are.  It's not.  This isn't too say we're nothing, but to encourage a healthy sense of perspective, to see things for what they are, to acknowledge we are not at the center of the universe.  God is. So, another reason for us to repent during this Lent.  Let us repent for our h

Lent's almost over.  Really. Well, okay we still have more than five weeks left but I just looked at one of the bookcases in my office and saw a devotional about the Seven Last Words of Jesus -- that I bought for Holy Week last year.  And I've already bought a new volume for this year, without really getting to last year's book.  Where's all the time going?  As I get older, I ask this question more frequently.  But then another question comes to mind: why restrict reading about the Passion to Holy Week or Lent?  I've got all year.  I've got study leave.  I can make time to read both books, not to mention some others I have. Lent is a time to find new perspective, to apologize for our errors.  Creating false categories or limits, barriers to living the full life God wants for us is surely something for which we should repent. Then I'll start reading that book ...

We talk a lot during Lent about repenting and seeking forgiveness for our sins.  This is for good reason: we do sin, we do need God's help in getting things back on track.  But forgiveness is not only something we should want to receive, it's something we should be prepared to extend. I'm not one for armchair psychology, but I do know the emotional costs imposed by carrying around a grudge, no matter how seemingly justified.  The anger, the resentment, and yes, the solipsistic sense of importance we feel are consuming and, in the worst cases, all consuming.  And in the end, what do we get for all of this?  Not much, really.  Maybe a sense of short-lived satisfaction, but never true contentment. A few years ago parents of small children and those around them were bombarded with the hit song "Let It Go" from the movie Frozen.  Disney movies can be annoying, but they often have a lesson worth learning.  "Let It Go" is a good song, or a