Holy Saturday—The Garage

Psalm 31:1-4, 15-16

Let’s face it. We have significant investments in our vehicles. The expense of a car is a major part of the budget. The estimated cost for every mile we drive is about $.54. This, of course, includes insurance, tires, brakes, and all of the many fluids that are regularly needed to keep our personal means of conveyance handy and efficient as well as the cost of the vehicle itself. Many of us are still making payments on something that, unless it is now a collectable, loses value every day. So we need to protect our investments.

We build garages, attached and unattached. They protect our vehicles from the elements. We come home from wherever we have been, open the garage door and park, then close the door securing our possession.

The car in the garage has also become a kind of symbol for the rest of our lives. When the car is in the garage our lives go dormant. We eat a meal and “park” ourselves in front of the TV. We are done for the day. We may do a few chores around the house, but when the car is in the garage, life slows down. Soon, we too will sleep.

It is when the garage is empty that things are happening in our lives. We are out and about, engaged in the activity of life so we plan for days of empty garages.

Today as we remember Christ in the tomb, we look forward to the opening of the door and the world of engaged living.  This is not a life of depreciation. On the contrary, it is a life of continued appreciation. We do not possess Christ, we are possessed by Christ. When the tomb opens, it never closes again. We are forever called to that place of ministry in the world outside the garage to embrace God’s people in God’s creation.

Prayer

Lord, on this day as we remember that you died in order to conquer death, we ponder our closed doors and look forward to the possibilities of your open door resurrection world. Amen

Sermon for Maundy Thursday—Keys to the Kingdom

We have been given the keys to the kingdom. In each of the Gospels, Jesus gives the keys of the kingdom to his disciples. In each of the instances, the purpose of the keys is the opportunity for forgiveness. Yet, if we don’t use the keys, or if we use the wrong keys, this office is either inappropriately demonstrated or the office completely fails to address the needs of the world around us.

As a pastor, I am sometimes asked to officiate at funerals of non-members. On one such occasion I was running a little late. My wife had taken the car; therefore, I was using my old truck. It was sometimes touchy and not always the most reliable means of transportation, but earlier in the day I had gone out and made sure that everything was running.

So when I put the key into the ignition when it was time to leave, I was surprised that the key wouldn’t even turn. This had happened several times before, so I didn’t immediately panic, but after I did everything I knew to solve the problem and still nothing happened, I started to worry. How was I going to get to the funeral home in time for the funeral?

After several more vain efforts, I finally started to get out of the truck. I was going to have to admit defeat. Maybe I could call a cab.

As I pulled the keys out and started to put them in my pocket, I noticed something strange. The orange fob on the key ring was blue. With a gasp of recognition, I realized that I had been trying to put the car keys in the truck. When I actually put the truck keys in the truck ignition, the engine roared to life, and I made it to the funeral home in plenty of time.

Sometimes we have to remember to use the keys that we have been given, not just any key that happens to come to hand. The keys to the kingdom open the way to a life of forgiveness or they block the way. The disciples ask how many times must we forgive, seven times?

Jesus’ response is somewhat challenging for us today, because we live in a more literalistic time, but Jesus’ response is more like forever. He says seventy times seven, or seventy and seven, or even seventy-seven times. It is important for us to remember that in Jesus’ time, they had no zero so numbers are more metaphorical in literature like this. The number of times Jesus mentions then is more like as many times as you are asked.

Still the keys come with the admonition: “If you forgive the sins of others they will be forgiven, but if you do not forgive, the sins of the person will be held against them forever.” There are times when I do not want to forgive, but really, if they come to you for forgiveness, can you really deny them?

In my first congregation there had been some difficulties. I was hurt, even angry. On Ash Wednesday at the time for the imposition of ashes, it felt good to tell the people that they were going to return to dust. Then this little girl came forward. She had not been part of the conflict. So when she came forward to receive the sign of the cross in ashes, and she looked up at me with those little-girl-trusting-eyes, I almost came unglued.

And then on Maundy Thursday, when we had the opportunity for individual absolution, she came forward with her mother. Again she looked at me with those trusting eyes, and I thought. “You have nothing to repent of. Certainly God forgives you for anything that you have done.” Her mother stood right behind her, and then I had to give her absolution too. It was in that moment that I realized that the forgiveness I was giving was not mine to withhold. As a pastor, I was giving the forgiveness that I had first received and in whose name I served. Who was I to withhold God’s word of forgiveness and hope for reconciliation?

If Christ could forgive from the cross, then how could I withhold God’s grace and mercy? It changed my feelings toward the whole congregation, and it changed my attitude in ministry.

It has not changed the number of times I have been upset with people in the congregation, nor has it changed the number of times that my feelings have been hurt. I still want to ask with the disciples. “Really? I have to forgive that person too? How many times?”

The answer remains the same. And the keys to the kingdom continue to hang heavy on my belt until I remember that I am passing on what I have already been given.

What a privilege it is then to say those incredible words at the end of corporate confession: “As a called and ordained minister of the church of Christ and by Christ’s authority, I declare to you the entire forgiveness of all of your sins, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.” Yes, those are the keys that open the gates renewing and revitalizing our reconciled lives in Christ.

Day 39: Good Friday— Mapping the Cross Roads

Psalm 22; John 18:1—19:42

On a trip to Egypt and the Holy Lands, our group stopped at a souvenir/gift shop. Amid the tables of pottery and wood carvings, I found a beautifully lacquered olivewood Jerusalem cross.

Now for those of you who don’t know what this looks like, connected to the one cross are four smaller crosses, one in each quadrant. It is a reminder of not only the death and resurrection of Christ but also the martyred witness of those who followed. At another level it reminds me of the many crossroads of our travels. We know where we are; we know our destination; but there are many different routes that we might take to get there.

In the safety and comfort of our cars we are constantly being reminded of God’s redeeming activity in our lives. Every time we come to an intersection, we have the opportunity to take a moment for gratitude.

Like a great growing Jerusalem cross, our journeys mark the places we have been and where we are going. The cross is not the terminus of our journey; it is the pause of orientation. It is the reminder of our ministry callings to care for one another and our map for going to Galilee. It is not a place to avoid but a necessary part of the journey. We need to witness the pain and suffering, remembering that there cannot be a resurrection without a death. At the same time, witnessing the event of the cross does not mean that we are the ones dying, Christ has done that once for all, but that our lives need to be about dying to ourselves and being in relationship with God and one another.

As we look upon the cross today, let us think about where Christ has been for us and where Christ is calling us to go.

Prayer

Lord, you died so that we might pass through death to eternal life, but your suffering showed us your full knowledge of the human condition. At the intersections of our lives, may we know your way and follow. Amen

Good Friday—Bobby McGee

Psalm 22

My piano business had gotten to the point of needing a truck. At home, there was a landscape project that was going to entail hauling sand, stone, and brick. I had rented trucks in the past, but that could get expensive. The classifieds were out of my price range. At the store, the clerk was talking about the $50.00 car she was driving. I asked if she knew of a truck like that. She thought her dad might. I gave her my phone number.

Two days later, I was looking at one of the poorest excuses for a truck ever. The grill was missing, only rusted edges remained. It had only one headlight. The engine came from an old Catalina; the transmission was a 3-speed, floor shifter from a Camaro. The wood floor bed was rotted.  The Naugahyde seat was split; an old rug salvaged from the garbage covered it. There were holes in the floorboards, and the extension on the shift lever unscrewed if you weren’t careful shifting into second gear. Neither the radio nor the speedometer worked. The odometer read 188000, but that was the engine that came with the truck, not the one from the Catalina. Aside from that, all the gauges worked; fuel, temperature, oil pressure, and alternator.

The owner guaranteed that if you headed for California tomorrow, it would make the trip. He thought it might even get you back again. How much was I willing to pay?

“$150.00,” I said with as much force as I could muster.

I hoped he would say no. Instead, he said, “I was hoping for $100.00 more, but I’ll tell you what. Are you a betting man?”

“I might be,” I responded. “What are we wagering?”

“Well, I’ll tell you. If we dicker around for awhile, you’re going to pay more than you want and I’m still going to get less. I was thinking that we would flip for it. If I win, I get $250.00. If you win, you pay $150.00. Does that sound fair?”

I really didn’t want to pay $250.00, but there was a chance. “Sure, let’s flip for it. I’ve got a quarter, I’ll let you flip.”

The coin spun in the air, he caught it and turned it over. “You’re a happy man today,” he said as he put my quarter in his pocket. I wrote the check on the hood of my first truck. I wouldn’t know for several days just how happy I was. Twenty-eight years later, the truck is gone, but that engine still runs.

Prayer

Lord, from the cross we must look as disreputable as my old truck. Yet in your care there is life. May we continue by your grace to walk with you in peace. Amen

Day 38: Holy Thursday—Not Dad's Oldsmobile

Exodus 12:1-4 [5-10] 11-14; Psalm 116:1-19; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; John 13:1-17, 31b-35

A few years back Oldsmobile sales were down; GM planned to drop the line. Oldsmobile lovers went and bought; collectors bought. Before you knew it, Oldsmobile was back in business. The new ad campaign was, “This isn’t your father’s Oldsmobile.”

Many congregations include a Seder meal in Lent trying to reclaim in some way the ancient meal of liberation. But, let us not be confused, this meal, with all of its importance for our first covenant brothers and sisters, is not our meal. I thought Mom’s 1987 Oldsmobile nine- passenger wagon (we called it the land yacht), was a great car, but at 14 mpg I don’t want to drive it. The Seder meal is the Oldsmobile our fathers (and mothers) drove.

The Passover bread of affliction is not our bread. The bitterness of the cross and the bitterness served at the cross is not our bitterness. That affliction and bitterness was taken on by Christ for us and for our sake so that we might be justified with God and freed to live.

Our meal is not to be rushed. In the Eucharist, we are not asked to stand or recline when eating; neither does it require unleavened bread; Paul says to use a loaf of bread. In Corinthians we are even told to wait for late comers.

We are not God’s first covenant people. Born in baptism, fed at the Lord’s table, we are second covenant people. We have something new, with more power, more agility, higher octane, and a lot more miles in it. Our meal is nothing less than the body of Christ “given for us” here and now. It is not a meal of remembrance, eaten once a year. This meal is to be done as often as we eat and drink it (Luther says weekly). It is a meal of incorporation. As we are made members of the body of Christ, so now the body is nourished for the work ahead. This meal is not for the release of the few; it is for the forgiveness of sins for all people.

Comparisons showing the relationship between the two meals are reasonable, but let’s be clear: “This is not our father’s Oldsmobile.” In the mystery of our Eucharist meal, we receive Christ’s presence and we are changed. We are made high-quality bio-fuel for the work of the gospel. We are new gas tanks containing new, higher octane fuel with more frequent fills available; and the mileage is great.

Prayer

Lord, we thank you for freeing us from the slavery to sin and for the gift of new life that leads us in new ways. Amen

SignPost Holy Thursday—Food Pantry

Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19

Sometime during our middler (first) year in seminary, one of my classmates realized that most of the families on campus were living below the poverty line. Many of the families with small children qualified for the WIC program. Some of the families had little or no food in their cupboards. Stan went to the campus council and proposed that we start a food pantry in partnership with Second Harvest on campus for the sake of student families and for other needful families in our neighborhood.

A garage under the mission house was provided by the seminary. Drywall was installed and painted for cleanliness. The floor was scrubbed. Electrical work was done to provide adequate lighting and electricity for a refrigerator and freezer. Now we needed to find the appliances for food goods that had to be chilled and frozen.

The word went out through the network of spouses that worked off campus, and soon we had a refrigerator, but the freezer seemed to elude us. One night we heard that there was a freezer available on a farm, thirty miles east of school. We just needed some way to move and transport it.

I volunteered my truck. How hard could this be? Five of us got together and drove out. When we got there, we found an old freezer. Did I mention that it was old? It might have been one of the first International Harvester (IH) freezers ever made. Most of us didn’t know that IH even made freezers. It had steel sides, and it weighed a ton. With all five of us lifting, we barely got it up into the truck. It almost filled the bed. We didn’t bother to tie it down, because there was no way that it was going anywhere.

We were assured that it worked, so back to seminary we went.

Fortunately, the space for the food pantry had been a garage. We backed the truck in and off loaded the thing. Two days later, with a new coat of paint and some vigorous scrubbing with bleach, we plugged it in. Hallelujah! It worked.

I have no idea how many families benefitted from that pantry, but it addressed many of the immediate challenges to families on campus and reached into the community around the seminary for several years.

This day we remember the meal Jesus shared with his disciples and consider the abundance of food we have and our failure to share that abundance with all of God’s children.

Prayer

Lord, you teach us through your ministry to care for the poor, the widow, orphan and stranger; to lift up the lowly and feed the hungry. Help us live your servant ways. Amen

One Flew over The Transom, Yes!

THE SON TIMES
The Gateway Gospel of Destiny

One Flew over The Transom, Yes!

by Jack D. Sypal

Dateline: Jerusalem, March 11, 2018, 03:11:21--Almost a year ago, when I was working for a different paper, leaked information led to evidence of collusion between Nicky DiMaosi, known as Nicky D., and Jesse Benjo, aka Joshua Kristy, aka the Jam-Man.

Today I received additional information, over the transom as-it-were, about their relationship. It fleshes out much more of their continuing conversation and may shed greater understanding for the behavior and movements of Nicky D. and a number of other subversive Pharisee Party (PP) adherents this past year.

Some of this has an upstairs-downstairs feel to it, but, if you don’t get winded from the flights of fancy, there is something of a step-by-step logic to Benjo’s statement and a rational explanation for the actions of many PP adherents based on the outcome of events of this last year. This longer statement sheds greater light on what continues to be a controversial issue.

What follows is, as we received it, Benjo’s reply last year to DiMaosi who is still both a PP leader and Sanhedran judge.

“My purpose in life is to make the world a better place. I still believe that the world, even in the midst of crisis, can be saved, for there is something at the core of the world that is worth loving.

“What we need is a symbol to rally around, something to give us hope. In ancient times, the Israelites put the serpent on the staff. Later, when that symbol lost its rallying power, it was destroyed; and the symbol of the temple was raised up.

“Today we need people to be willing to put themselves on the line for others, not to be symbols as much as rallying points, and that is what I intend to organize and do. It has its dangers of course, but the violence of this world is only going to spiral out of control unless somebody does something to stop it.

“Stopping it will demand new ways of living and building relationships with people in ways we have not done before. I know that people would rather continue with the devil they know rather than anything that means change, but the time has come to ‘Get out of the road if you can’t lend a hand, for the times, they are a changing.’

“We live in a world that demands innovation and adaptation. That is where the world is going. If you can’t be part of that change, then you are condemned to be one of those who has lost the ability to participate in the events of the world.

“Life is not about trying to recapture something that was. Life is all about living into the possibilities of tomorrow. Everlasting life always begins tomorrow. Death and sorrow are the products of yesterday. Life is about looking at things cross-wise and then stepping into and claiming what you can be. Life is about hoping for what is coming rather than longing for what has past.

“Stop watering down the spirits. Life is not about going down to the crossroads to sell what is not yours to sell. It is not about getting ahead at the expense of others. Learn to live lives of mutual support. After all, we all need somebody to lean on from time-to-time.

“You can’t stopper time in a bottle. Every Kodak moment is a little experience of death and tempts you to live in the past, but life is ‘a long and winding road’ that goes into the future.

“Somebody has to lead the way into the future because you can’t turn back time. I think I am the one who can be that leader. I am certainly not the Easter Bunny. ‘I am the eggman’—I hold the promise of new life and the eternal tomorrow.”

What came in over the transom stops here. We have not had the opportunity to verify everything in this statement, but to the best of our ability, with the resources available, what we have been able to verify is compatible with what we know about Benjo’s teachings and speeches this past year. If you have more to share, send it to THE SON TIMES, c/o Over the Transom for Jack, or dial OVR HeavensDoor, that’s 687‑432-8367 x3667.

Wednesday of Holy Week –Homeward Bound

Coming back to Wisconsin from out East as kids one year, my sister and I learned that by making a fist and pulling it down a couple of times, we could get truckers to blow their horns when you were along side. On the Indiana Toll Road, we tagged up with a truck that passed us, and then, shortly afterwards, we passed him. It was a prolonged game of leap frog. Each time we passed the truck, my sister would pump her hand, and the trucker would oblige with a friendly honk.

As traffic started to slow down near Chicago, we had moved out into a faster lane only to discover that our exit for going around Chicago was coming up and there was no way to get back over. We were alongside a truck and couldn’t see traffic on the other side. This could be a long way home. Then, my sister noticed with surprise that our trucker friend was in the cab of the neighboring truck. Before we knew it, he had put on his flashers and started slowing down. Finally, he was almost stopped. In front of him was a huge gap in traffic.

With great thankfulness, Mom pulled into the space our trucker friend had created for us, and honking our horn, we took our exit for home. He had apparently noticed our license plates and knew, better than we, where we needed to go.

Prayer

Lord, in our haste we often forge ahead without knowing where we are going, but, in your care and leading, you forgive our headstrong ways and lead us home.  For making space for us, we give you thanks. Amen

Day 37: Wednesday of Holy Week — Above and Beyond

Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 70; Hebrews 12:1-3; John 13:21-32

Flying into Milwaukee from Chicago one night after a conference, I looked down on the highways. They looked like continuous strings of flowing marquee lights that joined the one city to the other. It was as if the way we were going was illumined by the work of many drivers pointing the way.

Partway there, I noticed lights bunching together. There was an intersection that caused the lights to stop for a time. Then I could see them going off in different directions, lighting other ways home.

Isolated in the sky, I felt alone, but, there below, were the many people negotiating life’s problems pointing the ways to home. It reminded me of the great cloud of saints that surrounds us at every juncture of our lives. We do not make this journey of life and faith isolated from one another. We are surrounded by other drivers on the highway and the many saints of our lives.

On our faith highways, we are surrounded, not only by those we live with, but, in the resurrection world given to us through the death and resurrection of Christ, we are also surrounded by the faith and confidence of those who have gone before.

We gather with all of those who have gone before us and with the confidence of those alongside us who bear witness to our destination and home. When we gather in Eucharist, we bunch up for awhile and then move on to our individual roads of mission, passing through our many cross roads to the great community in Christ.

Prayer

Lord, by your direction and in the company of those who have followed in your way, may we clearly know the way of your calling and home. Amen

Day 36: Tuesday of Holy Week—Headlights

Psalm 71:1-14; John 12:20-36

Early in my seminary learning, a professor pointed out that the Bible uses repetition as a way to illustrate the importance of the story point. Importance is also shown by the amount of space it takes up. The story may not always be told in the exact words, but the story itself is important.

He pointed out that the call of Samuel is not a one-time thing; it happens three times. The story of creation is not told once, but twice in Genesis and summarized in several psalms. God’s activity in history is everywhere throughout the Bible.

This recognition of importance by duplication and space says something to us as we consider our cars and driving needs. The sheer number of vehicles, highways, parking lots, etc., shouts out the importance of the car to our lives. The number of speed limit signs, cautionary signs, and stoplight/signs says something about our concern for the safety of others and ourselves.

Yet all of this mobility would be challenged if it weren’t for our ability to light the darkness. Streetlights, headlights, taillights, directional signals, all make driving possible during the day and at night.

John 12:36 is referenced three times this Lent. That we are called to be the children of Light is important.

As we drive in the darkness, turning on our lights on the highways for our safety, so we are called to shine Christ’s light of hope into the darkness of despair, abuse, oppression, hopelessness. We may not always solve the problems, but as we engage them, time and time again, we will tell the world how important these issues are to us and God’s concern for peace and justice in the world.

Prayer

Lord, as our headlights illumine our way in the darkness of night, let your light shine in our lives that we might know your presence and leading in the darkness of our lives. Amen

SignPost Tuesday of Holy Week—Blessings and Curses

Psalm 71:1-14

We’re Americans; we drive. It is hard to believe, but America has been motoring for just over a hundred years. Over this time, the reliability of the car as a means of personal transportation has increased. Driving has become an assumed right. Our vehicles have become an extension of American culture and our individual personalities. Much of the world looks to us and our cars as the paradigm for their own success.

The model we drive can make a political statement about our place in the world and our personal world views. Our vehicles tax our environment when we do not appreciate the impact of our need to drive with availability of natural resources. Because of the car, people live farther and farther away from the places where they work, go to school, shop, and attend worship. Our parking lots get larger and larger. A family with four drivers may drive all four vehicles to attend worship.

The car is the symbol of our independence. If one doesn’t drive, it is because of disability or dysfunction. One of the most difficult things the disabled and aging confront is the loss of their driver license. That can be a sentence of isolation that is tantamount to imprisonment. The simple act of going to the grocery store can become a major undertaking.

This amazing piece of machinery which makes our lives so convenient is just one thing that allows us to lose touch with our need for community. We are busy people with schedules to keep. We know how long it takes to get from where we are to where we’re going, and stopping along the way to pick up others is not in our schedules. Thousands of people lose touch simply because we cannot be bothered to car pool.

It is important to remember that in the midst of our independence is our deep need for community. This not only means that we need to think about how we use this gift, but it also demands that we consider our personal etiquette regarding other drivers on the road. When we forget this, our car and, by extension, our very selves can become sources of oppression.

It is always important to remember who and whose we are. Luther reminds us that we are in the world but not of it.

Prayer

Lord, by our very lifestyles we proclaim our relationship with you and our earthly family. Help us always to remember that we do not live in isolation from the rest of the world. We need and depend on their presence in our lives and gifts of creation. Amen.  

Day 35: Monday of Holy Week—Not our ways but Yours

Psalm 36:5-11; Hebrews 9:11-15; John 12:1-11

It’s been more than a hundred years that America has been driving. Henry Ford gave us the modern assembly line that has made the car affordable for the common person.

Improvements in the design of the car we drive today have come from various inventive people of the many manufacturers creating the safest vehicles we can have. Each improvement has been made for saving lives and making life more convenient ushering in new visions of life together and a perfected kingdom of plenty.

Yet, today we are reminded that true perfection does not and cannot come from human hands but from Christ’s perfect work for us. There is no amount of green technology that can save us. Green technology may save our planet, but our relationship with God is only perfected through Christ’s willingness to stand for us in life and death, offering forgiveness and new ways of walking together in God’s way. Only in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ is there hope of true relationships of peace and equality.

On this second day of Holy Week, we pause to remember God’s many great works for us and give thanks for Christ’s forgiving willingness to make us right with God.

Prayer

Lord, thank you for your forgiving hands that continue to work perfection in us. Amen

SignPost Monday of Holy Week—In the Big Horns

Psalm 36:5-11

During August of 1978, Daryl and I went backpacking in the Big Horn Mountains of Wyoming. We took a leisurely drive in his Toyota pickup, stopping in Hardin, Montana, where we visited Little Big Horn and walked the site of Custer’s Last Stand. We saw where the Native Americans camped, and stood where Custer was supposed to have died. We listened to the Native American version of the battle, and we walked through the cemetery where the 7^th Cavalry soldiers are buried.

Later, we drove down through part of the reservation lands witnessing the impoverished circumstances of families living in small homes and trailers along the road. We drove past Sheridan and on to Buffalo. In Buffalo we stopped for breakfast and then headed up to the ranger station to post our route and intended time of return.

Up into the mountains Daryl and I and his Elkhound Cy walked with our packs. About three miles in, we stopped for our first camp. We pitched our tent on the shore of a mountain lake and went swimming before supper. Almost hypothermic from the water temperature, we sat around a fire to warm, ate our supper and watched the sunset. In the mountains that only takes a few minutes, but as the light dwindled and the color faded, an eagle flew between us and the light. In silhouette we watched it fly to it’s roost.

Daryl said, “Now there’s a picture only God could make. You couldn’t paint that, and if you waited with a movie camera for another twenty years it wouldn’t happen. We’ve got ten miles to walk tomorrow, so we better get to bed.” As the stars started to light up the sky, we covered the fire and crawled into the tent and our sleeping bags.

Prayer

Lord, even at the end of our day you surprise us with wonders that appear for a moment and are preserved only in memory. Remember us in your kingdom. Amen

Sermon for Palm/Passion Sunday—Holy Highway

Do you remember the days when we had to read maps and memorized the layout of our cities? In some parts of rural America roads didn’t have names, and one had to know the landscape and the landmarks in order to know who lived where. Today with GPS, we input the address or fire number and off we go. The little woman or man in the box tells us when to turn and how long it is going to take to get there. It is more difficult to get lost, but it can be done. Yet some of the joy is gone from driving—some of the risk and adventure is absent. (I am not saying that this is necessarily bad, but that things have changed.)

On a trip to Nebraska twenty years ago, I made a wrong turn. Ahead there was a road that was black topped and so I reasoned it must go somewhere, and maybe I could save myself twenty miles of driving if I just turned south and connected with the highway I needed.

As I drove down the road I noticed a vehicle in front of me moving slowly. I started to slow down too—not fast enough. I was following a fertilizer spreader that was overly full and overflowing some as it hit the bumps in the road. I was going to pass, but the road was getting narrower and then we hit gravel. A quarter mile down the road, the gravel ran out and we were on dirt. The spreader turned off. I kept heading south. Off in the distance, I could see the highway I needed to be on. I started to feel pretty proud of myself. My truck didn’t smell so good, but I could live with that, I had saved myself twenty miles of driving and a gallon of gasoline.

Then I noticed the pile of dirt in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes and slid a little sideways in the road. I stopped just short of a ditch, four feet deep and five or six feet wide right in the middle of the road. The pile of dirt was on the other side of the ditch. I heaved a sigh of relief because I hadn’t gone into the ditch. I stood there and looked at the ditch for awhile. Then I backed the truck up a quarter of a mile because there wasn’t room to turn around and found my way back to the place I had started.

Where were the signs I had missed along the way? I fumed about the poor signage along the road. When I got back to the intersection where I had missed the turn in the first place I saw this huge sign: several 4x8 sheets of plywood, painted white with foot high letters announced the turn. I must not have been paying attention. I was preoccupied by the scenery, or my thoughts, or something else. Whatever it had been, I was not paying attention to the road. The sign said, “Last road connecting with highway 2 for 30 miles. Culvert construction on most roads.”

I found my way to my friend’s house, but I was an hour or so late. Later we looked at my manure decorated truck and laughed. “Well,” my friend said, “You look like you fit right in. Now you just need a little more mud and people will think you live here.”

SignPost Passion Sunday—The Traffic Jam

Psalm 31:9-16

A friend of mine was going to seminary in Chicago. He had invited us to visit several times. Finally, Spring Break was coming, and we had some time. We stopped at Mom’s to help out with some chores that were too heavy for her. We had dawdled over coffee before leaving.

As we headed down I-94, we discussed which way to go. Going through Chicago was shorter, but it could get really congested. Better to take the I-294 bypass; there were more tolls, but traffic should be faster.

Off we went dropping our forty cents in the toll booths every ten miles or so. We talked about seminary and some of the pros and cons of living in Chicago. Then it happened. Two trucks pulled alongside one another and started slowing down. We started moving slower and slower until we were stopped. We were in a part of the city that we did not know. The maps in the car did not show us any easy ways to get to the seminary from where we were. We were between exits anyway so for the next hour and a half we sat there, in grid lock.

Occasionally traffic moved slightly, and somebody jumped into the hole that was created. Cars were halfway into a new lane, but not fully out of the lane they had been in. Horns honked. People stuck their heads out of windows to let others know what they thought. It was chaos.

The car ahead of us ran out of gas, and people got out of neighboring cars to help push him off to the shoulder. This was before cell phones, so we just sat there. Occasionally a car would run down the shoulder to try for the next exit, but as we started creeping along, we saw them stuck by break-downs and bridges. Eventually we passed some ambulances and a fire truck. 

“And you think it would be fun to live here?” I asked.

Sue said, “If we lived here, we would be taking the train or the bus. We wouldn’t be stuck out here. We would be living there already.”

Who could argue with logic?

Finally, we were free to travel again. Amid the craziness, our car was undamaged. We were safe, and life was grudgingly satisfactory. We finally got to the seminary. It was good to see our friend. We went to a nearby coffee shop and then out to supper. Our visit was short, but it was good.

Prayer

Lord, when all about us is chaos and frustration, may we know your peace and certainty of deliverance. Amen

Day 34: Saturday, Week 7—Happy Anniversary

Jeremiah 33:10-16; Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29; Mark 10:32-52

Before I head out for an extended road trip, I check out the car: tire inflation, oil, and the lights. Before we left on Friday for the 25^th anniversary of a friend’s ordination everything was in good shape. As we pulled out, I grabbed the mail. The renewal tag for our auto registration was there, but, already leaving later than we had hoped, I tossed the mail in the back.

A little after midnight in Nebraska, my wife commented on how dark it was. Shortly afterwards she noticed a police car. Soon the police car was right behind us. Then the flashing lights appeared.

We were asked if we knew that our registration had expired. We explained it was renewed and started digging in the back for the mail.

The deputy checked the computer. Yes, we had paid and the tag had been mailed. Finally we were released with a warning for a headlight that was out.

Sunday, after worship and reception, we began the trip home. In Missouri, we were pulled over again. Did we know that we had a burned out headlight and that our license tag was expired?

We explained that yes, we knew (producing our warning ticket from Nebraska), and we had the tag in the back, but we had not replaced the lamp or put on the tag. With a friendly acknowledgment of the difficulties in finding a replacement lamp on the weekend in rural areas, we were allowed to continue with the advice of using our high beams whenever appropriate. We were also encouraged to find the tag in the morning.

An hour later, in Iowa, we were stopped again. Finally I asked, “Why the hyper vigilance? Certainly they weren’t stopping every car they saw with one light burned out and slightly expired plates.

The deputy told us that a dark colored Pontiac Vibe had been used in a bank robbery. All patrols in the Midwest had been notified. In the morning, we found the tag and replaced the lamp. Made right with the law, we went happily on our way home.

As we prepare ourselves for the observance of Passion Sunday and Holy Week, we ask with Bartimaeus for vision in the darkness. With Christ’s touch we clearly see the way to the cross and follow on the way.

Prayer

Lord, in our darkness, we are tempted to think of our burdens as our crosses to carry. Help us to look outside of ourselves, to take up your cross, and with your vision, follow on your way. Amen

Day 33: Friday, Week 6—Bobby 2

Jeremiah 33:1-9; Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29; Philippians 2:12-18

My wife sees God’s work in our daily lives differently than I do. When I needed a new truck (see Day 11), she said, “Look in the classifieds. If you’re supposed to have a truck, one will be waiting for you.”

I was skeptical, but I obediently looked in the paper. Yes, I found a truck that met most of my requirements in the third ad.

I went to see it. Everything I inspected seemed good. Turning the key, I heard no roughness. Why would anyone want to sell a fine machine like this?

Then on the test drive, as I pulled onto the highway and stepped down on the gas, a horrible banging started. I asked what had happened.

“Well,” the woman said, “when my son pulled the neighbor’s sailboat out of the lake, he got the back under the water a little.” It turned out that when he put the clutch in, the twenty-four foot boat started to pull the truck into the lake. Panicked, he had floored the gas, snapped the clutch in first gear, and sort of blown the engine. It still drove, but there was no power left.

I drove home thinking that my wife was wrong. Soon the woman with the truck called to ask, “Would you consider offering something less than we are asking?”

I talked to a friend. He said, “The only thing that is worth anything on your old truck is the engine. It sounds like the only thing bad on the other truck is the engine. They’re both Chevys so we should be able to pull the old engine and drop it into the new truck. Offer $500 less. Maybe you’ll have a new truck this weekend.”

The following Monday, I drove a fully restored truck to the DMV to transfer the license plates. The signs of rust and neglect were gone, but the heart of the truck remained the same.

Prayer

Lord, we are afraid to depend on your providing and surprised when you do. Give us courage to bear witness to your activity in our lives, to see your healing hand at work in all that we do. Amen

Day 32: Thursday, Week 6—Defensive Driving

Deuteronomy 16:1-8; Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29; Philippians 2:1-11      

If there were a passage from Scripture that belongs in the Driver’s Manual, this might be it. Many of us are aggressive drivers. Behind the steering wheels of our cars, we sometimes regard others on the road as being less important than ourselves.

I am amazed at the number of news reports about road rage. I am also irritated by those who honk horns at stop lights. Somehow, enclosed in our private space with our personal music playing, favorite news channel on, or just with our own thoughts, we sometimes think that it’s all about us.

I am reminded of the cartoon from years ago. Dad is driving the car, Mom is sitting in “her seat” and the kids are in the back seat. One of the children says, “Daddy, why aren’t there idiots on the road when Mommy drives?”

Whether we are on the road, behind the wheel, or simply on the way, Christ leads. Driving means that we need to put the concerns of others ahead of ourselves.

A driver license is a privilege not a right, and it assumes a responsibility for the safety of others. Being aware of other people’s weaknesses and concern for their well-being is the very foundation of defensive driving.

This awareness for others models excellence in driving and living. We are not lords of the highway, we are traveling companions.

Prayer

Lord, your life among us continues to be an example for us of our relationships with one another and with God. Help us to be models of your humility for others. Amen

SignPost Thursday to Palm Sunday—Mom’s Song

Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29

My mom loved to travel. Each summer we took several short trips and one extended trip. We might be home only long enough to pay bills, check in on family members, do the wash and then get packed again. In the summer of 1968, we were home for sixteen days between the end of school in June and the beginning of school in September.

Mom figured that by camping, the only cost was the price of the campsite and the cost of gasoline (not $2/gal. then!); otherwise, our food cost the same. So, over the years, we drank the free water at Wall Drug, hiked the Black Hills, and swam in Sylvan Lake. We went to the Tetons, Yellowstone, Zion, Bryce Canyon, Yosemite and Sequoia National Parks. We went to Jackson Hole and the Garden of the Gods, Williamsburg and the New York World’s Fair. We went to the Ozarks, and we got threatened by the police in Alabama for eating lunch in the “colored” park. We went to the Seminole villages of Florida and saw the alligator wrestlers. We climbed all over the Constitution in Boston harbor, swam in all of the Finger Lakes, walked the battlefields of Gettysburg, Yorktown, Shiloh, and heard of the battles of more forts than I ever dreamed of. We saw Rainbow Falls, Niagara Falls, Copper Falls and Chippewa Falls.

There were good times and some not-so-good times along the way. But because Mom thought that we should be at home wherever we happened to be, certain constants traveled with us:

(1) Call Grandma every Saturday night.

(2) Go to church on Sunday morning. If we were traveling, we checked out towns along the way for worship times and then looked for a parking place. We worshipped in Lutheran churches of all kinds, Methodist, Baptist, and Presbyterian. Several times we even worshipped with Roman Catholics.

(3) Have devotions of some sort each day, even if it was only stopping to wonder at God’s creation for a few minutes.

(4) Say grace before every meal, even cold cereal in the rain.

(5) Start each day singing, “This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Mom said it gave us good weather to travel in and helped us return home in safety. It was her credo.

I won’t speak for my sister, but there were times when I thought Mom was nuts. But, today, when I travel, I find myself repeating the same habits. In these rituals, I discover her wisdom. We can be home wherever we are if we remain centered in who and whose we are.

Prayer

Lord, as we travel in this world you’ve created, help us be mindful of your works and attentive to your people. May we always knowing your leading on our way. Amen

Sermon for Wednesday of Week 5—Running in Circles

Haggai 2:1-9, 20-23; Psalm 119:9-16; John 12:34-50

Do you ever have those days when you feel like you’re running in circles and going nowhere? Today’s text might make you feel that way.

One of the first things that one learns when walking in the woods is that one of our legs is longer than the other. If one walks for any distance without a focused destination, one will walk in a circle. That’s where the saying comes from. It is a statement of truth expanded to describe fearful, frantic, unfocussed living. Many people who have gotten lost in the snow have discovered foot prints that they think will lead them to safety only to learn that they are following their own foot prints from the last time they passed that point.

We heard much of today’s gospel text a few weeks ago. This time it is in expanded form. It is greater than it was the first time. Now we are given more information. So, we come to this text again, having made a circle. If you are thinking that you are experiencing a moment of déjà vu, don’t panic. Yes, we have been here before. But we are not just retracing our own foot steps. This time, we are shown the way out of traveling in circles.

This time, we are called to walk in the light that leads to the cross and home. We are called to remember that it is not the person of Jesus alone that we follow, it is God’s word revealed to us in the person of Jesus the Christ who speaks to us. It is not his ministry alone, but those prophetic statements relating God’s intent that the world should be saved. It is the reminder that God is willing and able to lead us from the slavery of self into the world of relationship with God and all of God’s people. With this point of reference, we, ourselves, in the body of Christ, can become sign posts for others and beacons of hope.

Indeed, there is much to witness and bear witness to. As we prepare for the week of passion, with the great entry into the city and the political maneuverings that will condemn Jesus to a shameful death on the cross, we see that the Son of Man will be lifted up on the cross in order for the Messiah to be with us forever. There will be a painful death, but that death will lead to the conquering of death once for all.

If we think of Lent as a time of personal sacrifice for self improvement, then Lent can be a time of running in circles. If, however, we keep our focus on our destination—the cross and the empty tomb—then our way is made clear.

There is an old Jewish blessing. “May you be covered with the dust of your rabbi’s feet.” This blessing does not just speak about relationship, it speaks of closeness and proximity. We see Christ’s presence around us and follow. Maybe close enough to be covered with the dust of his feet. Maybe close enough to need the foot washing of Maundy Thursday. Maybe close enough to discover that, with Peter, our lives do not always recognize Christ. Maybe close enough to discover that, with the disciples, we want to flee from the brutality and pain of the cross. And, maybe, just maybe, we will be close enough to understand that we need to hear those words of forgiveness that come from the cross in order to find the way out of the storm and into the place of resurrection living; then we can discover that Christ is going ahead of us into Galilee, to lead and to cover us again with the dust of his feet.

It may be difficult to change our ways, but God’s hope and intent for us continues to be a welcoming invitation of grace through faith in Christ alone. Our Lenten journey’s end is near; and it leads to an even more wonderful journey ahead: a journey of traveling in our savior’s way, into Galilee, into the brokenness of the world to know healing and wholeness in Christ. It is not fearful or frantic; it is not unfocussed running in circles; it is intentional, disciplined walking where Jesus continues to lead us home.

So, now is the time to lift our eyes from our self-centered, circling footsteps and to look to the path of the one who has come not to judge the world but to save it. Now is the time to hear the words that God’s commandment is everlasting life. Now is the time to keep our eyes on the prize of salvation that is accomplished for us.