Writing’s biggest draw for me is that it gives me time to weigh my words – and my attitude. When it comes to thinking – I can go deep, but quick? Not so much. With writing, I also have the opportunity to revise my thoughts and words before I “put them out there”.  Writing IS slow thinking.  Each time I sit down to write a blog post I am reminded that words seldom tumble out of me in an impromptu string I feel comfortable publishing for the world to see. No, I always revise (a little or a lot, depending on available…

This morning in our little congregation I was privileged to enjoy the presence of the first pastor I ever knew. He was in town for his 90th birthday party, hosted by his daughter who is quite active in our church.  I was not yet in kindergarten when Reverend Bill Clayton was appointed to First United Methodist Church of Shelbyville, Indiana. When the denomination moved him and his family out of town for a new appointment, I was 9.  That was the last time I saw him – 46 years ago.  When I shook his hand this morning, he said I…

Here’s one of my all-time favorite poems: Those Winter Sundays        By Robert Hayden Sundays too my father got up earlyand put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,then with cracked hands that achedfrom labor in the weekday weather madebanked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.When the rooms were warm, he’d call,and slowly I would rise and dress,fearing the chronic angers of that house, Speaking indifferently to him,who had driven out the coldand polished my good shoes as well.What did I know, what did I knowof love’s austere and…

As a kid I was fascinated by the concept of “spontaneous combustion” – the belief that it was possible for a person to suddenly and unexplainably burst into flames. Can you imagine? Just walking down the street one day and – poof – you are engulfed in flames.  I wasn’t the only one whose imagination was caught by spontaneous combustion. Stories of such go back to the 1600s. Charles Dickens even eliminates a character in Bleak House via the mysterious process.  But there has never been a case of spontaneous human combustion confirmed by science. It seems pretty obvious that…

Back when I was in seminary and working as a youth pastor at my home church in Shelbyville, Indiana, I sometimes got the opportunity to preach before the whole congregation. Especially during the summer, when the senior pastor wanted some vacation time. Also during the summer our church would host a particular youth group from somewhere up north as they traveled south for their annual mission trip. They would crash on the youth group floor in their sleeping bags on a Saturday night, attend worship the next morning, and then be on their way. One particular summer weekend, my preaching…

Spiritual growth could be and should be the most fascinating process experienced by humans.  Seriously. The Spirit taking a run-of-the-mill sinner and molding him or her into the image of Christ, the very Son of God? Daily progress towards fulfilling the purpose for which we were created?  What a ride that should be! Challenges, setbacks, failures, and victories. All the while, cheered on by the Father and a great cloud of witnesses. What a shame, then, – especially for young people – when preachers, churches, and various believers around us make spiritual growth seem like drudgery.  Or worse – unnecessary. …

When I took the position as pastor at Sardinia Baptist Church, I wasn’t sure how I much I might love or hate preaching on a weekly basis.  Turns out, I kinda love it.  I know a lot of church folk would absolutely refuse to step foot behind the pulpit. Others might be persuaded … but only after the twisting of an arm or the inflicting of guilt.  In general, public speaking is a fearful thing to most people (although it doesn’t rank above death, as many claim).  Preaching has to be among the most formidable sort.  With preaching you are…

I met a sweet lady who has been bed-bound since September.  She apologizes for “letting me see her like this” in her hospital gown and her hair undone. It’s a perfect spring day but her blinds are pulled. She can’t get outside so she doesn’t care to see it, I suppose. She tells me she married at 18. Gave birth to her only child, a son, at 19. Married 60 years before she was widowed. She speaks of grandchildren and great grandchildren and the church members who call or visit her regularly. One sometimes brings a pint of ice cream…

You don’t have to be alive too long before you reach the conclusion that this world is not what it could or should be. The fact that there’s a major problem seems fairly obvious – but what exactly lies at the root of that problem is less certain. Every major religion puts its finger in a different place. Maybe the problem is too much desire. Maybe it’s suffering. (Maybe it’s “whiteness”!)  Christianity says the problem is sin. And that can be a hard sell.  We know there is something wrong with this world, but we don’t want to admit it…