The Mainline Minister

It was unusually foggy this morning, even warranting a weather service alert.  Pea soupish, to be exact.  There's something mysterious about fog, the way things are hidden, and what is visible is often softened, even made to seem intangible.  I like it. But too much fog for too long isn't a good thing.  We need to see.  We need clarity.  And just as this is true in the natural world, so it is in our spiritual lives.  Things can become foggy, occluded, vague.  We can become comfortable with this state of affairs and forget what spiritual clarity is like.  Advent is a time when we can focus on the world around us and open ourselves to God, praying that the Spirit will come a lift the fog around us.  When that happens, we will be amazed at what God has in store for us to see!

A few years ago, some clever soul cooked up the idea of Giving Tuesday.  The idea is simple: after Americans have binged shopped from Black Friday through Cyber Monday, they could shift gears and give, rather than get.  It's a nice idea, but it also begs a question: shouldn't every day be Giving Tuesday? During Advent, we prepare for the greatest gift every given: Jesus.  That central claim of the Christian faith can sound maudlin, but when we take time to think about what it is we confess God has done in coming to us, to be one of us, we should be awed by the epic magnanimity of our Creator.  What a gift!  Freely given, at no cost to us, God gives us love, grace, hope, redemption, new beginnings, new life.  Wow. This Advent, let's pray over and discern how we as individuals and as a community might respond to God's profligate daily generosity.

A few days ago, the forecast for the start of this week was for dirty weather.  But as  I look out the window of my study right now, the sun is breaking through the clouds.  It's not what was expected, but is a welcome development.  Surprises need not be a bad thing. Advent, the season of anticipation, is a time when we can work on appreciating the beautiful surprises that God springs upon us.  Some of these are great, some of them are small; all of them are blessings that we need to be alert to.  If we're not in the habit of looking for these gifts, we will miss them.  Over the coming weeks, let's join together in looking and listening for the unexpected.  Let's look for sunny skies, even when we're expecting foul weather.  Who knows what might happen?  Who knows what we might experience?

Hurry Up And Wait Today we begin Advent.  Today we begin to wait. But for what?  What is it we await during this season?  What do we anticipate?  What do we hope we will encounter at the end of this time? We have just four weeks to come up with answers to these questions.  During this Advent I invite you to join me in praying on these questions, in adopting a discipline of listening and looking, of trying to more aware of the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives. So let's hurry up ... and wait.

Alleluia! Christ is Risen! On this Easter Sunday we are delighted to discover that the journey did not end on Good Friday.  Rather, this morning we find that God is taking us in new and surprising ways.  Let us give thanks to God for the wondrous thing he has done and is doing in and through Jesus. Alleluia! Christ is Risen today!

By any standard of our world, our Lenten journey should have come to an awful, painful end yesterday.  His ministry was ended emphatically on a cross.  Perhaps he caused a little bit of a stir while traveling the highways and byways of Galilee and Judea.  Maybe he did enjoy his fifteen minutes of fame in Jerusalem.  But to what end?  So he could be executed beside a couple of crooks?  All of the teaching, healing, preaching, loving, challenging of Jesus was for naught the cynics and doubters, scoffers and savants said - and have said for 2,000 years.  The road Jesus journey came to an end on Calvary.  Yet we believe otherwise.  We, as Christians, believe that the cross was not the final destination.  We believe God's promises.  We hold the conviction that Jesus' story, his ministry, his presence, his power did not come to an end on Good Friday.  Far from it.  With hope, we anticipate that something more is to ...

It seemed apt that the day began with a cold, raw, rain.  It was as if Creation itself was mourning the horror and the injustice of what was done to Jesus.  On this day, we are called to confront the evil that can be wrought in our world.  Not that we should not be aware of this awful truth throughout the year, lest we become complacent or complicit.  But on this Good Friday, we gaze into the abyss.  We watch as the forces of hate, fear, ignorance, prejudice, chaos, and anomie lash out with all their fury and might.  We steel ourselves as Jesus takes the brunt of the assault for us, demonstrating conclusively how far God is willing to go on our behalf. The morning will come.  We know this.  But first ... darkness.