The Paradox That Is Jesus

Posted on December 31, 2009

From Philip Yancey:

The more I studied Jesus, the more difficult it became to pidgeonhole him. He said little about the Roman occupation, and yet he took up a whip to drive petty profiteers from the temple. He urged obedience to the Jewish law while aquiring the reputation as a law-breaker. He could be stabbed by sympathy for a stranger, yet turn on his best friend with the flinty rebuke, “Get behind me, Satan!” He had uncompromising views on rich men and loose women, yet both types enjoyed his company.

One day miracles seemed to flow out of Jesus; the next day his power was blocked by people’s lack of faith. One day he talked in detail about the second coming; another, he knew neither the day nor the hour. He fled from arrest at one point and marched inexorably toward it at another. He spoke eloquently about peacemaking, then told his disciples to procure swords. His extravagant claims about himself kept him at the center of controversy, but when he did something truly miraculous he tended to hush it up. As Walter Wink has said, if Jesus had never lived, we would not have been able to invent him. (The Jesus I Never Knew)

Good words to end the year with.

Men Looking at Mirrors

Posted on December 29, 2009

I drove to the gym after work yesterday and walked three miles on the treadmill. Feeling virtuous afterward, I went downstairs to the men’s locker room to clean up. It’s a small affair, with two dozen lockers, two showers and one bench. As I came in, I noted only one other man, who had just finished his shower.

I managed to shower and put my street clothes back on before he finished all the things he felt necessary. He had a good head start, but I left the locker room well before him. I wouldn’t have noticed it much if his things weren’t so spread out, leaving me no room even to sit on the bench. I laced up my boots standing in the corner as Samson combed his long hair and admired himself in the mirror.

His time at the mirror set me to thinking. There’s a curious fact about this gym, one you notice if you’re on the treadmill. The cardio machines sit on a midway area between the first floor, where the weights are, and the second floor, where the aerobics classes take place. On the treadmill I can look down to the weight area, mostly men, or upward toward the aerobics area, mostly women. The first floor has long walls of mirrors, but the second floor has none — the abundance of mirrors in the one and their absence in the other intrigues me.

Walking for 50 minutes on the treadmill gives a lot of time to scan both floors. I’ve noticed a pattern to how the men work out on the first floor:

1. Lift.
2. Put weights down.
3. Walk over to mirror, admire self.
4. Repeat.

There’s also a variant to #3, when a man will walk around between sets and tear more of his T-shirt away, presumably so others can admire him with or without a mirror. The women never look at mirrors as they exercise because their floor has none. I’m sure they look at mirrors, but they must do so more discreetly.

All of which is to say… well, I’m not sure. Except that men are vain creatures. No question there.

It reminds me of a scene in the crime drama Castle. The show features a female detective who solves cases in stiletto heels, paired with a male murder mystery writer who helps her. One day they are walking downtown when he glances at his reflection in a storefront window. “Well look at that,” he says, “I really am ruggedly handsome.” That his pitch rises and he says the word handsome in a high girly-man voice adds to the irony of the scene.

I look at myself in mirrors everyday. I even use a hand mirror before Sunday worship to make sure there isn’t something stuck in my teeth. You never know.

PM Praise

Posted on December 28, 2009

Here’s the audio from last night’s praise service, which featured music from the Ascend Praise Band and a video clip from the TV show Joan of Arcadia. The service was 50 minutes. The message begins at about 20:15… it’s based (loosely) on John 1.1-14. At about 42:30 there’s a lovely solo, God Is With Us.

PM Praise Dec 27

This is my first podcast (if that term applies here). I hope it works. In the future, I’d like to learn how to trim the audio to post just selected parts of the service.

Music and Ecstasy

Posted on December 26, 2009

Algis Valiunas comments on the effect Handel’s Messiah has on listeners:

Messiah is the voice of an earthly ecstasy that has no need of mysticism, but is available to all in their ordinary lives thanks to the sacrifice of Jesus. It is fitting that this oratorio has become the consummate Christmas musical staple: It exemplifies the community at glad-hearted worship, in a world that fulfills its spiritual needs.

The linking of a piece of music with the experience of human ecstasy caught my imagination. The root of the word ecstasy means ‘to stand outside oneself.’ Music has the capacity to do this, to nudge us outside of ourselves for a time.

By 11 p.m. on Christmas Eve I was tired of the Christmas story and ready to go home. But a guitarist our music director recruited for the late service produced a bit of ecstasy in me as he performed old and new songs of the season. For a few minutes I was transfixed and lifted. Perhaps this is why music is seldom far from any of us… for the bits of ecstasy it brings.

(Valiunas’s whole article on Handel is here.)

Shy Santa

Posted on December 24, 2009

Posted first as ‘Reluctant Santa’ on December 26, 2008
Merry Christmas to all.

A few years ago my wife made a Santa suit. She sewed the trousers, jacket and cap using a red textured fabric and trimmed them with a puffy white fringe. She bought a wide black belt and a white wig and beard from a costume shop. We added a pair of black snow boots bought years ago at K-mart, and the outfit was complete.

Other people borrow the costume on occasion, but she made it largely for me. She planned for me to walk into rooms full of children and bring them Christmas cheer. She made a Mrs. Claus outfit too so she could accompany me.

Problem is, I’m a most reluctant Santa. I feel silly saying, “Ho, Ho, Ho.” Strands from the beard slip into my mouth and make breathing difficult. And I’m nervous around children — they sense this because they’re nervous with me too. All in all, a lot of strikes against a potential Santa.

We know a single mom raising three small children. Christmas was going to be thin for them, so my wife decided they needed a visit from Santa. After lunch on Christmas Eve I put on the red uniform, sloshed through the rain and melting snow and showed up on their doorstep with a small frozen turkey and a basket of food. My wife went along in civilian clothes and took pictures. (She turned the event into a small scrapbook and gave it to them as a gift.)

The children were excited at first, but when this strange man entered their home, they grew more fearful and shied away. Only the eldest braved a picture with Santa, a slight smile on her face. Her blond hair complimented a little red dress with white fringe. When asked what she wanted for Christmas, she said, “A hamster.”

I gave out candy canes and said Ho-Hos as convincingly as possible. My wife did most of the talking, though, and I stood by as a silent Santa. She said to me afterward, “There aren’t many children who get a visit from Santa in their home on Christmas Eve.”

When we arrived home our dog Jazz, unhappy with a stranger in her home too, barked at me till the red suit came off. Then Santa folded back into his old brown suitcase for another year.

Later that evening I shared a pew with the same mom and her three children at a Christmas Eve service. Two dozen lit candles of many shapes and sizes stood on the altar, their light waiting to join sixty hand candles during Silent Night. The girl in the red dress sat next to me, but I doubt she suspected anything. Or at least, she didn’t let on. Her mom smiled at me and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

Love can call on us to do uncomfortable things. When an introvert like me puts on a Santa suit, it’s a spiritual exercise in love of neighbor. Almost in spite of myself, I brought a smile on Christmas Eve to a little girl in a red dress. I learned there is a place in the world for shy Santas.

Longest Night Altar

Posted on December 23, 2009

C and A created this altar for our Longest Night Service on Monday. We hold the service before Christmas each year for people who may be grieving the loss of loved ones during the holidays. I’d never seen a deer on an altar before.

Apart from those I’d asked to lead it, only five people came to the service. It was pretty discouraging. Folks have said to me, “Well, it was meaningful for those who came.” It surely was, and I’ve said those same words to myself.

Still… only five people came. It makes me wonder whether there is a widely felt need for this service. I’ll think long about doing another next year.

The music, scripture and candle lighting all touched me, though, and I saw a deer on an altar, which made me smile. As the deer…

The Holy Foreskin

Posted on December 22, 2009

Just in time for Christmas! Learn more than you want to know about holy relics associated with Jesus and Mary: Blood, breast milk, teardrop, umbilical cord, swaddling clothes, and yes, even the holy foreskin of Jesus.

The foreskin of Jesus has loomed on the periphery of many historical epics and movements, from the Carolingian legend to the Papal Schism to the Reformation to 19th-century Romanticism. Though there were at least a dozen claimants to the Holy Foreskin (as you’d expect by now, most were in France), the papal-approved version was stolen during the 1527 Sack of Rome and ended up in the hill town of Calcata, 30 miles north of the Eternal City. By the end of the 19th century, the relic fell out of favor with the church, highlighted by a papal decree in 1900 threatening excommunication to anyone who writes or speaks about the miraculous membrane.

‘Papal-approved version.’ Hmm. Maybe there was a little seal of authenticity on the ‘miraculous membrane.’ But the larger question… why no Christmas carols that mention this?

Regrets Remain

Posted on December 21, 2009

The call from the funeral director came as I visited parishioners at a nursing care facility. “Chris, we were wondering if you could perform a service on Saturday.” The woman who died belonged to my old congregation, and the pastor there now couldn’t officiate at the funeral because his son was graduating from college that day.

I left that congregation nearly nine years ago. I had gotten married in a private ceremony and moved out of the church-owned parsonage, sparking a time of difficult conflict. Exhausted, I eventually resigned as pastor. I don’t regret the way we married, and there were good reasons to leave the parsonage. Still, because of the conflict there are now for me painful memories associated with that church — a good therapist, a punching bag and alcohol helped me get through those hard years, before I finally left. I had only stepped in the building once since then.

On Saturday I walked in 30 minutes before the service, pausing at the door to knock the snow off my shoes. An inch had fallen overnight.

I’d forgotten how pretty the sanctuary was, with wine colored carpet and dark curved pews. A tall Christmas tree stood to the left. On the right side of the chancel were drums and an electronic keyboard, new additions since I was there.

The woman who died graduated from veterinarian school in 1949, one of the first women at MSU to do so. Because of her dedication to animals, I chose for a first hymn ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful.’ Her eight grandchildren sat in the front row and later carried her casket out to the grave.

My prayers during the service included these lines:

If only, Lord, if only we had taken time. If only we had said more, if only we had said less. We confess to you our regrets, we acknowledge what is past. In this moment give us grace to offer and receive forgiveness.

As I spoke those words, I thought about regrets, forgiveness and my own past connected with that congregation.

I chose a safe table at the edge of the funeral meal. I stayed an appropriate time, said good-bye to the family and slipped out to the parking lot with great relief for the trip home.

A couple of years ago a friend shared a comment from someone in my old congregation: “I wish we had been kinder to Chris.” The words surprised me — at least one person there regrets what happened. For myself, I regret not being able to give them the more seasoned leader I am now — I made plenty of mistakes there as a first-time pastor.

In one of Bob Bennett’s songs he sings,

Forgiveness comes in just a moment.
Sometimes the consequences last.
And it’s hard to walk inside that mercy
When the present is so tied up to the past.

I’ve worked toward forgiveness for my old congregation, as I hope they have toward me. But the legacy of that time in my life lingers. I felt it Saturday. Consequences last, and regrets remain.

In Praise of Science

Posted on December 18, 2009

Tim Stafford, senior writer at Christianity Today magazine, has begun a series on scientist/priest John Polkinghorne. Along the way he praises science itself:

Science is arguably the human endeavor of which we can most take pride, as members of the human race. Not only has it been astonishingly effective in advancing genuine, universally acknowledged understanding of an opaque and mute universe, but it has done it (by and large) in an admirable way. Scientists do not generally become rich, they do not gain fame. On the whole they are cooperative and generous with each other. They rarely lie, cheat or steal. Christians of all people should admire people who devote their lives with such care and perseverance to understanding a universe that we believe God made.

Notable words since our culture often stereotypes evangelicals like Stafford as anti-science.

The series so far: Why we should admire scientists and What science can’t do.

Read Scripture to the Sick

Posted on December 17, 2009

Her fever spiked two weeks ago at 106 degrees, and now she lays in a critical care room at the University of Michigan Hospital. I sat by her bedside yesterday afternoon as the nurse wiped blood oozing around her trache and emptied a full urine bag.

After the nurse left the room, I talked to K for a few minutes but quickly ran out of things to say. I don’t have the gift of chatter. I asked if I could read psalms to her, and she nodded yes. So I read aloud.

Hear, O Lord, and answer me,
for I am poor and needy.
Guard my life, for I am devoted to you.
You are my God;
Save your servant who trusts in you.
Have mercy on me, O Lord,
for I call to you all day long. (Psalm 86.1-3)

Psalms 130, 145, 27 and 23 followed.

Calvin Miller suggests pastors read scripture to the sick.

In all my years as a pastor, I counted it a great joy to read the Scriptures to those who were ill. There is something healing in the mere opening of the Word of God. Every part of the Word is a lorica of protection. All of it heals. All of it confidently readies the bearer for what lies ahead. If I had my ministry to live through all over again, I would read the Bible even more often than I did the first time–acknowledging freely that the Word of God has intrinsic power to heal and protect. (The Path of Celtic Prayer, p. 66)

I have less confidence than Miller that all of scripture has the same healing power, but the Psalms and the Gospels certainly do — as medicine for the spirit, these readings compliment other treatments the ill receive.

Tiger Woods, Meet Simon Tugwell

Posted on December 15, 2009

The Monitor has a good editorial on the Tiger Woods saga.

Perhaps more than other recent cases of adultery by prominent figures, the case of Mr. Woods is a sober reminder of how unfaithfulness in matrimony can leave behind a swath of personal despair and destruction. If he can now reform himself and earn the forgiveness necessary to save his marriage, then this real-life script will offer a redemptive lesson for a society increasingly jaded to such dalliances.

The editors note a poll that says 90 percent of Americans believe adultery is morally wrong. But up to 40 percent of men and a quarter of women would be unfaithful given the chance.

The topic of adultery falls under the general category of lust, one of the Eight Deadly Thoughts in the ancient Christian tradition. Simon Tugwell describes this deadly thought as ‘allowing our fantasies to run away with us’ so that we are ‘taken up with something totally unreal, instead of trying to cope with what is really there.’

It looks like Woods has been chasing a lot of fantasies, and they’ve finally caught up with him. Now he must face reality again.

The Half-Assed Samaritan

Posted on December 14, 2009

“He’s missing a leg, and he needs a ride to the Chelsea Hospital,” my wife said on the phone. She was at her church.

“Okay… (sigh)… Give me his number.” He lived on Division St by the stadium, and I was around the corner at Meijer, picking up groceries at noon on Sunday.

After a quick phone call, I drove to J’s house. He came out the front door on aluminum crutches and made his way with ease down the steps and over to my little Geo in the driveway. His left leg was missing, the blue jeans knotted off on that side where his knee would have been. He lost the leg to cancer I learned on the 45 minute trip north to Chelsea.

He chatted most of the way in a stream of consciousness fashion. He said his doctor told him to go to the Chelsea ER to get pain meds for his leg. He’d called churches all through town looking for a ride.

Being an introvert, the more he talked the more I retreated into the safety of silence. Toward the end of the trip he fell silent too — I glanced over at him and saw he’d fallen asleep, his head bobbing slightly. He looked in his mid fifties, with long gray hair. He smelled strongly of cigarettes.

I got him to the emergency room at the Chelsea Hospital. As he reached to get his crutches from the backseat, he said, “I don’t get paid till Friday. I wonder if you could help me pay for my meds.”

I was expecting the money request. I glanced down and said, “No, I can’t help you there.” He nodded and moved quickly into the ER. I don’t know what happened afterward or how he got back to Adrian.

I drove home to prepare for the evening service, hoping he wouldn’t call and ask for a return trip. He never did. I caught up with my wife at home and asked her to douse me with Febreze to kill the cigarette odor before I went back to church.

It’s tempting to pat myself on the shoulder for a good deed, but my actions fell short of Jesus’ teachings. The Good Samaritan would have walked with him into the emergency room, paid for his treatment and offered a follow up visit, just like in the parable. I was more the Half-Assed Samaritan, doing a good thing certainly, but with great reluctance and not taking it any further. Certainly not living up to the ‘Go, and do thou likewise’ our Savior expects.

The reason for the failure is fear. Whenever I try to help a needy person, like this one-legged man, I am afraid the encounter will morph into an abyss of need. I don’t want to get too close to edge of the abyss for fear of falling in and disappearing. So I back away.

It’s not rational, of course. But then, fear never is. When you look at it closely, it’s hard to love your neighbor as yourself.

Happy Ulysses

Posted on December 11, 2009

11 years ago tonight I proposed to my wife while we stood in front of this painting of Ulysses and Penelope. I’m a happy man… as Ulysses was!

(Image from lib-art.com)

A Defense of Violence

Posted on December 11, 2009

This section from President Obama’s Nobel Acceptance speech has gotten much attention:

We must begin by acknowledging the hard truth that we will not eradicate violent conflict in our lifetimes. There will be times when nations – acting individually or in concert – will find the use of force not only necessary but morally justified.

I make this statement mindful of what Martin Luther King said in this same ceremony years ago – “Violence never brings permanent peace. It solves no social problem: it merely creates new and more complicated ones.” As someone who stands here as a direct consequence of Dr. King’s life’s work, I am living testimony to the moral force of non-violence. I know there is nothing weak -nothing passive – nothing naïve – in the creed and lives of Gandhi and King.

But as a head of state sworn to protect and defend my nation, I cannot be guided by their examples alone. I face the world as it is, and cannot stand idle in the face of threats to the American people. For make no mistake: evil does exist in the world. A non-violent movement could not have halted Hitler’s armies. Negotiations cannot convince al Qaeda’s leaders to lay down their arms. To say that force is sometimes necessary is not a call to cynicism – it is a recognition of history; the imperfections of man and the limits of reason.

The rest of the speech merits attention. His approach is thoughtful — realistic, reasonable and idealistic. Probably too idealistic in places. The speech set well with me, but apparently not so with others.

An Outsider’s View of the Methodist Appointment System

Posted on December 10, 2009

In the November issue of the Michigan Christian Advocate, a United Methodist magazine, Paul Thompson criticizes the appointment system the denomination uses. He’d rather see local churches empowered to call their own ministers rather than clergy be appointed by bishops who live far away.

He questions the wisdom of giving clergy lifetime job security, and he fears the system protects clergy who ought not, in his view, be in ministry at all:

Frankly, we have way too many incompetent pastors. While virtually all of them are wonderful Christians, they don’t belong in the pulpit. Some were never suited for the ministry in the first place, some are burned out and some are just hanging on to retire.

Since I’m a Presbyterian minister serving as an associate in a United Methodist congregation, I’m in a unique position to offer a perspective on the appointment system. The Presbyterian Church USA operates in a congregation based call system, the kind Thompson wants. So I’ve had a chance to see both appointment and call systems at work, though I’ve never been in the appointment system myself.

The appointment system benefits clergy in several ways:

United Methodist pastors have told me of their gratitude for the lifetime job security they receive — a gift in this economy.
Their position in the congregation also has security. Since they are beholden to the denominational hierarchy, rather than to their congregation, they have the freedom to do difficult things that may need to be done. They have more power and latitude than pastors in call systems.
The appointment system relieves pastors of the stress of one major life decision most of us have to make: where will I work? Of course they also lose the ability to choose, a more important value for some.

In the area of drawbacks, the appointment system makes pastors vulnerable. In any year, they could be moved, uprooting themselves and their families. My sense is they have some freedom to say no, but not a lot. They’re not alone in this vulnerability — businesses move individuals and their families all the time. But it must be a hard thing.

I see one benefit the appointment system brings to a congregation. It spares them the labor and headache of having to find their own pastor, a process that takes months or years to accomplish. And there’s no guarantee a congregation would get a better match through a call system than through an appointment system.

Which system is better? My sense is both call and appointment systems have their strengths and problems — each of them is as flawed as the human beings who inhabit them. Appointment systems would benefit from adopting one feature of call systems — the interim pastor, who provides a buffer between regular pastorates.

I have a last observation, and it touches on Thompson’s complaint about ‘incompetent pastors.’ I often feel like an incompetent pastor, and doubtless I’ve had parishioners who’d agree with that assessment. The demands of ministry are so diverse and unending. I’ve gotten better at it in 15 years, but it’s been a slow process. Many pastors want to improve, I believe, but they may not know how, and the weekly demands of ministry may not leave them space or energy to try.

Nevertheless, I encourage pastors to try to improve, perhaps working on one ministry skill at a time. Read a book, take a class, find a mentor… there are ways to improve. And I urge congregations to partner with their pastors, helping them better their preaching, pastoral care, administration, and other areas of ministry.

I also encourage congregations to take comfort in Christ, who is for all of us our most faithful pastor.

What Does a Crucifix Symbolize?

Posted on December 8, 2009

A decision by the European Court of Human Rights has declared the presence of crucifixes in Italian classrooms a violation of human rights. The Italian government argued against the verdict, saying the crucifixes are merely cultural symbols. Alexander Stummvoll disagrees:

What I find scandalous is not the absence of crucifixes in classrooms, but the way secular practices devoid and empty the crucifix of its deeper theopolitical meaning by relegating it to the status of a cultural symbol that can be safely ignored.

Above all, the crucifix represents a belief in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ and his message of self-sacrifice and love of enemy. It’s not a cozy cultural symbol but should provide an unsettling challenge for our egoism, our self-love, and global socioeconomic injustices.

Stummvoll offers a wide ranging essay on the relationship between Christianity, Islam and European culture. At the very least, it’s important to reflect on what our religious symbols represent.

Appreciating Children

Posted on December 7, 2009

Each December our church hosts the SERRV Shop, tables of handcrafted items from around the world. Yesterday I bought this figurine of Jesus blessing the children. The $15 it cost will support the family of an artisan in Peru.

This morning I spent an hour with a four-year-old boy while his mother worked in the church kitchen. We talked and played. We gathered the animals in my office — frog, mouse, duck, gorilla, pig, dinosaur — and gave them names.

I enjoy spending time with children, even though I have none of my own. I need children in my life. I believe a non-parent like me can appreciate children differently than parents do — our appreciation grows out of absence. Emily Dickinson wrote about us: “To comprehend a nectar requires sorest need.”

Jesus had no children either, at least none we’re aware of. He loved them, though, and at times he reached out his hand to bless them.

7 Steps to Improve Your Preaching

Posted on December 6, 2009

How can pastors, pressed for time in the weekly demands of ministry, take steps to improve their preaching? Shrinking budgets make it harder for pastors to attend expensive continuing education events, but there are specific low-cost things they can do to enhance their sermons.

In ’08 I finished a D. Min. in preaching at Christian Theological Seminary, studying under Ron Allen and Dan Moseley. My suggestions reflect lessons I learned in that program.

1. Read five books on the theory of preaching. These have shaped my thinking: God Sense by Paul Scott Wilson, Preaching Is Believing by Ronald J. Allen, The Preaching Life by Barbara Brown Taylor, Sharing the Word by Lucy Atkinson Rose, and Preaching As Local Theology and Folk Art by Leonora Tubbs Tisdale.

2. Read regularly in areas outside preaching. I prefer non-fiction. I’ve never been able to follow the ‘read a book a week’ rule, but even if it’s only every other week I finish one, it still stimulates me and provides ideas and illustrations that end up in sermons. And though I read it less, fiction offers great value too. Fiction writers help readers imagine geography and sensory experience — a great help in preaching.

3. Experiment with alternate delivery styles. If you regularly read a manuscript verbatim, try preaching from an outline instead. Or (gasp!) experiment with preaching without notes — Joseph Webb’s books can be a help with this. There is no one correct preaching style, but I would opt for the one that enables you to be more animated and engaged in the pulpit. And speaking of pulpits, if that’s your usual station, try preaching from outside the pulpit. There is value in leaving port.

4. Invite someone to videotape two of your sermons. Have a small group critique them with you. If the group includes other clergy, have them bring video sermons too. Few pastors, I think, have seen and heard themselves preach, and so they have little idea how they appear to others.

5. Take a Sunday off and visit a church known for good preaching. In addition to not seeing themselves preach, many pastors probably have little opportunity to hear other preachers live. It can be an enriching experience. I don’t think it’s as valuable simply to read someone’s sermon online — that’s like reading sheet music for a song… it needs to be performed.

6. Rehearse your sermon at least a half dozen times before you preach. (Paul Scott Wilson recommends 8-10 times.) I will use our boiler room at church for rehearsal because of the privacy it offers. Preaching is more than reading an essay aloud — preaching involves embodying a message, and this takes practice. My sermons have improved since I started taking seriously this need for rehearsal. Let one of your rehearsals be outside — I often practice mine while walking the dog Saturday night (by then it’s mostly committed to memory).

7. Interview six of your parisioners. Ask them about their spirituality. Ask them what makes preaching meaningful to them. Listen to your listeners. There’s a book on this topic, Listening to Listeners (McClure, Allen, et al). Listen to your parishioners in informal ways too… at the football game, at the coffee shop, in the hospital waiting room. Their lives are sermons to you. Good preaching appears in that intersection between what you hear listening to scripture and what you hear listening to your parishioners’ lives.

Be patient. Change in preaching comes slowly — it’s not a linear thing. My preaching is better than it was five years ago, but it’s not as good as it could be. When I listen to a good preacher, I think to myself, “Wow… I wish I could preach like that. How can I inch forward in that direction?” This is the attitude to have, the sense there is always a possibility for improvement in the art of preaching.

How to Find a Lost Wedding Ring

Posted on December 4, 2009

Wait 30 years for the friend who now owns your old house to come across it doing yard work:

Last month — about 30 years after Benz, 63, lost the gold band in his yard — the current owner of the former Benz home was raking leaves. He spotted the ring, partially covered by dirt.

Steven Benz finally got his ring back.

It’s a sweet story.

Here’s a post about my wedding ring.

As the Deer

A blog by Chris Brundage, a pastor in Adrian, Michigan, USA

Monthly Archives: December 2009