Mowing with our plastic mowers

Though indeed God is not far from each one of us. For “in him we live and move and have our being.”

– Acts 17:27-28

Lucas, two years old, is out mowing the yard, following behind his father with a plastic mower. Now you might think that Lucas is pretending to mow the lawn, that he is simply playing a game. But I think not. If I were to ask him what he is doing, he would most certainly answer, “I am mowing the lawn.” When dad and Lucas are done, the lawn will look quite beautiful, and Lucas will be proud of the job he has done.

We follow after Jesus with our plastic mowers. The grass gets cut. We are proud of our mowing.

Gary

PRAISE GOD FOR BROKEN COOKIES

Vivian baked some wonderful cookies a few days ago. I am not sure that “wonderful” is a way to describe something you eat, but they are wonderful, full of good stuff like raisins and oatmeal, thin and tasty. It happened that a few stuck to the baking sheet, and therefore broke while being moved from sheet to rack.

I asked if I could eat a couple. She said yes, but eat the broken ones. Then added, you can have as many of those as you want.

I thought, praise God for broken cookies.

The truth is they may not win any prize at the fair, but those broken cookies taste just as good as the “perfect” ones.

There are these words in the Old Testament that Christians believe describe Jesus: “. . . he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.” (Isaiah 53:2)

But on the inside . . . as Psalm 34 sings, “O taste and see that the Lord is good.” (Ps. 34:8)

What is so appealing to me about Jesus is not the miracles and the healings. What attracts me to him is his humanity, his compassion, his kindness, his desire to lift others up and to show them forgiveness.

The miracles and the healing are like that “perfect” cookie that is brought to the state fair and gets the purple ribbon. But the compassion and the kindness is like the broken cookie. For such can be found in any of us. We who know we are broken, who fail often and who get so afraid at times, we too can truly be like Christ in this world, in our compassion and our kindness, in our desire to lift others up and in our courage to forgive.

When someone would come to me and ask for help because he or she had a problem with alcohol, I would ask if I could contact a friend who belonged to AA, someone who understood what it is like to “have a problem with alcohol.” One broken child of God helping another broken child of God. Or as D. T. Niles said: “Christianity is one beggar telling another beggar where he found a loaf of bread.”

Blessed Christmas, dear reader, blessed Christmas. As you celebrate the birth of Jesus, as you gather with family and friends, as you exchange gifts and sing the old carols, please remember that for some this is a season of tears. A loved one is not present this Christmas. There is not enough money to buy presents this Christmas. He or she will sit at table alone this Christmas.

You and I will not fix it. But we can help. We can figure it out and we can do something . . . a hug, a word, an unexpected gift, some money, your presence.

Praise God for broken cookies. Praise God for one broken child of God helping another broken child of God.

Gary

A Question

If scripture
and faith 
and Church
do not
touch us
where we live,
then
why bother?


Gary

Anxious for Christmas

It was November 15. I was driving in town, slowed down to make a right turn and saw a pickup truck parked in a driveway. In the bed of the truck there was a Christmas tree. My first thought was, here is a family anxious for Christmas.

I know some people grumble about stores selling ornaments and cards too early, lights on houses and trees decorated in November. To some it seems wrong. They say, we used to wait until after Thanksgiving, but no more. We can’t wait.

The children can’t wait because they know there will be presents. I remember how anxious I was. Even though there would not be many gifts, I knew there would be something special for me under the tree. I still have the cap gun with the white belt and holster and the bow with the quiver for the arrows. I remember the extended family gatherings in our small home for the traditional Norwegian meal of lutefisk and boiled potatoes with lots of melted butter. I certainly remember the women saying, “We will not open any presents until we eat our dinner and the dishes are all put away.” For sure we children were anxious, saying, “Hurry up! Hurry up!”

But it is more than receiving gifts. We are anxious for Christmas because we like what it does to us. We give to others, write letters, gather with family and friends. We put money in a kettle to help people we don’t know. We greet each other and we make sure that those who are struggling to make ends meet have food on the table and toys for the kids. We even go to church in the middle of the week. We visit people in nursing homes. We who can’t sing, sing anyway. All because it is Christmas.

No, it’s never too early for Christmas.

Once again we reach out our arms to hold this baby near our hearts. We smile and relax just a bit, filled with the wonder of this life, so pure, so gentle. This child cannot help but change us for the better.

On that first Christmas night, the angel said to the shepherds, “Do not be afraid” (Luke 2:10). What is there to fear from a baby? A baby is powerless, with no guile, no anger, and no judgment, only needing from us without fearing we will not provide: simply trusting and content to be resting in our arms. This is how God came. This is Christmas. This one child. And for a time, perhaps too brief, our fears are taken over by our love for this child and he is able to change our hearts.

“This will be a sign for you,” the angel said to the shepherds, “you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger” (v. 12). At each Christmas we too find our way to this baby and are glad. The apostle Paul wrote to the congregation in the town of Colossae, “Jesus is the image of the invisible God . . . For in him the fullness of God was pleased to dwell” (Colossians 1:15, 19).

We will light the lights, decorate the tree, buy the gifts, send the cards, gather with family, and greet one another. All good, but we know deep within ourselves that all of it is only the wrapping. We know that the gift is the baby, this one particular child named Jesus. “You are to name him Jesus,” said the angel to Joseph, for he will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21).

In Jesus, we are free to live life as fully and as joyfully as we will allow ourselves. For it is only we who hold ourselves back. God does not. For God has forgiven us in this baby and will not restrain us from living with sheer abandon, trusting in this gentle and gracious God, who keeps telling us, “Do not be afraid.”

When Christmas comes each year, we catch a glimpse of who we are meant to be in our giving, in our joy, and in our care for those with little power in this world.

We are better people at Christmas.

Of course we are anxious for Christmas.

Gary

Thanksgiving

It is the least selfish of days.

The most basic.

We gather to eat,

and to be with

those we love

and those who love us.

We celebrate life.

We say thanks for family

and all good things.

There is no expectation of

gift or card or decoration.

It is not Jewish or

Christian or Muslim or

atheist or agnostic,

or it is all of the above.

It is as plain as plain can be.

A table, chairs all around,

the smell of hot food and

the laughter of family

and friends.

Of course we are

thankful,

and do we not wish

that all of our days

could be as ordinary

as this.

Gary

It is of faith, but I am glad to have such faith, glad to have such hope

Brittany was terminally ill with brain cancer. The cancer brought terrible pain, and sometimes prevented her from speaking or recognizing her own family. There was no hope of a cure. Doctors had removed as much of the tumor as they could, but two months later it grew back. There was only the promise that it would get worse and she would eventually die. She and her husband moved to Portland, Oregon. On November 1, she took a drug that enabled her, in her words, to die on her own terms. Brittany was 29.

She said, “My glioblastoma is going to kill me and that's out of my control. I've discussed with many experts how I would die from it and it's a terrible, terrible way to die. So being able to choose to go with dignity is less terrifying."

Then this, "For people to argue against this choice for sick people really seems evil to me. They try to mix it up with suicide and that's really unfair, because there's not a single part of me that wants to die. But I am dying."

I have sat at the bedside of lovely people who embraced life, but who had come to a place where death looked to be a friend. My father came to that place. In my last conversation with him, he said, all I want to do is go to sleep and not wake up. I believe Brittany came to that place.

The article relating Brittany's story includes comments from a Wyoming woman who serves on a legislative committee that handles health issues in her state. “My sense is Wyoming would reject it (doctor-assisted suicide), . . . it would just be a flat 'no,' . . . That's my personal values as well: we don't get to pick. The big guy upstairs chooses when we go and when we stay.”

I am not a big fan of addressing God as the “big guy upstairs,” but more than that, I would argue that if one has never been in that place where living offers no hope, no joy, no pleasure, but only pain and loss and eventual death, then one should speak slowly or perhaps not at all.

This too. Does God go about choosing “when we go and when we stay,” as the woman from Wyoming states? Does God choose death for us?

When someone dies, especially someone young, we hear words like, “God must have needed another little angel.” Or, “God chooses only the very best.” Or, “God decided it was her time.”

I suggest to you, dear reader, another way of faith.

The Apostle Paul, in a letter to the congregation at Corinth, writes “The last enemy to be destroyed is death.” I Corinthians 15:26

Is it possible there is a battle going on? A battle between God and the enemy?

When his good friend, Lazarus, died, Jesus did not comment, “Well, it was his time to go. God's will. Because we all know, the big guy upstairs chooses when we go and when we stay.”

No. When his good friend died, Jesus wept. God cried. And we do too.

But more. God and God's people do battle against the forces of death: poverty, racism, prejudice, injustice, hunger, cancer, heart disease, diabetes . . . . all that strive to take life away.

Death is the enemy.

A decisive battle took place a long time ago, on a day we now call Good Friday. A young Jewish Rabbi, named Jesus, was put to death. His body was taken down from a cross and laid in a tomb. It seemed once again that the enemy had won.

But when some women come to the tomb early Sunday morning, he is not to be found.

Some, who had been his students, his followers, later said they saw him, talked with him, ate with him, were both surprised and glad at his appearing. They told others. The news has traveled down through the centuries, so we too have heard the tale and are free to tell it.

That long ago Sunday morning changed everything. That Sunday morning is a promise that the enemy will not have the final word. That Sunday morning is a glimpse into our future.

The raising up of Lazarus was a prelude to that Sunday morning. In the resurrection of Jesus from death to life, we are promised that we too will be raised up. We will be set back on our feet again in another part of God's kingdom, no less beautiful than this place called earth.

God's promise. Our hope.

Brittany wanted to live, but what she woke up to each morning was not life. The enemy had already won. She just surrendered early. I will not judge her. Neither should anyone else.

And what about God? God weeps.

One day I will die. As will you. I don't much care for the idea. But it will not be God who takes my life. Death is the enemy.

In the end, God will have the final word. Life. The last enemy will be defeated.

It is of faith for sure.

But I am glad to have such faith, glad to have such hope.

Gary

The light is better

A man is seen late at night, walking in slow circles below a street light, looking down. Another gentleman comes by and asks if he needs help. The first man answers that he is looking for his billfold. The second man asks, “Did you lose it close to this lamp post?” The first man responds, “No, I lost my billfold over there.” He points down the block into the darkness. “Then why are you looking over here?” “Well,” says the first man, “the light is better over here.”

I am angry at a friend, but I do not wish to hurt his feelings, so I say nothing. Then one day I say something to my wife in a joking way, but it is also a criticism and there is anger under the humor. The moment I say the words I know I wanted to say those words to the friend, but it is easier to say them to my wife. The light is better.

We do this. We yell at our children when we want to yell at our boss. We take it out on a co-worker when we are having trouble at home. We express frustration with a friend when we are really frustrated with ourselves. Because the light is better. It is easier. But the truth is never found.

Gary

Belonging

Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep.”

– John 10:25-26

We are used to hearing, even saying, “If you will believe as we believe, then you can belong with us; you can be a part of us, be a part of our community.”

In other words, believing comes first. Believe and then you can belong.

Which also means that if you do not believe, you cannot belong.

Jesus seems to be saying something else. Tag along with me, and let’s see what happens. Be a part of my community. Maybe faith will come.

In other words, belonging comes first. Belonging may lead to believing.

It works for children.

Gary  

Listening to Elvis or Usher

Vivian and I were preparing lunch. She took a pear, cut it in half, then moaned. “Look, it's black inside. I waited too long. I should have eaten it sooner, when it was fresh. We should buy food daily and eat it when it is fresh. I like my food fresh. I don't like old food. I don't like anything old.”

I thought about that for a moment, then responded, “You don't like anything old? Well that certainly does not bode well for me.”

Recently we traveled to Mt. Carmel, a retreat center near Alexandria, Minnesota, for a reunion of classmates from Luther Seminary. We graduated in 1969, so 45 years have passed.

Someone did the math. About 20 percent of our class is no longer with us on this earth. One couple, with plans to attend, had to stay home; the wife was diagnosed with cancer. Some of my old friends wear hearing aids, one has Parkinson's disease, a spouse told of her hip surgery, and most confess to various aches and problems with memory.

Besides the plain fact that we are all pretty old and get reminded of our mortality on a fairly regular basis, we also deal with retirement in different ways. Some got used to the idea in a couple of minutes. Others are having a more difficult time.

I don't know this for sure, but my best guess is that for some there is the real sense that they no longer have anything to contribute, they no longer have value. Maybe some of you reading these words understand that.

There is a prayer in the Old Testament entitled Psalm 71. It is the prayer of an older person, asking that God not forget. “Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my strength is spent.” Then these words: “So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me.”

What I say now has been said by others with greater knowledge and insight, but hear it again. If you can identify with me and my seminary classmates, if you are of the same vintage, know that you do have value, that you do have much to contribute. We have what the young do not have yet. We have lived. We have experience. Oh, we may have trouble with technology, but we know something about humanity, about sadness and joy, loss and death. We have some understanding about what counts finally, what is important in life and what can be tossed aside.

May I say we have gained a bit of wisdom, which will not count for much when it comes to how to work the remote, but is a wonderful contribution when it comes to relationships. Is there perfection in us? Certainly not. We too are mighty sinners. But I noticed something at our four day gathering at Mt. Carmel. We laughed. We laughed a lot. We laughed at ourselves and with one another. This too, I heard no unkind word spoken, no complaint about another's presentation or question. We were kind to each other. We no longer had to prove anything or ask for approval. Not a bad lesson to learn early in life.

When we first enter this world, there is no expectation that we do anything in order to receive attention and affection. We are loved and cared for by just being. We are receivers, nothing more. I suggest that some of us will leave this world in the same way. Our bodies and our minds worn out, so we have nothing left to give. But we still are, and by just being we still have value.

You came into this world a child of God, created in the very image of God. That image does not fade with the passing of years. There may be lines on your face reflecting years of hard work and hard learning, but you are still God's little one, precious and loved.

If you, dear reader, are not yet at this place in life, then may these words encourage you to take note of those in your family or neighborhood who are, who would rather listen to Glenn Miller or Elvis (who, by the way, were he still living, would be celebrating his 80^th birthday next January) than Taylor Swift (a mere 25 in December) or Usher. Take note of these older folk and allow them to bring to the table of life what they have to offer: experience, wisdom, laughter, and some spare time.

You may not want to ask us old people to fix your computer or program your smart phone, but we could help you with some insights into how to raise kids, get along with your brother-in-law, live on a tight budget, or not take oneself too seriously.

For we will tell you that life really is short. So pay attention to what counts. Pay attention to things like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

You don't need an “app” for any of the above. They are bestowed upon us from above, from the God who created all things to be good. They are gifts, not to be stored away for a later day, but best opened now and used on a daily basis.

Recently, while visiting our son in Silver Spring, we took the metro to the Washington Mall. On the way home I got separated from Vivian and our daughter, so I was riding the train alone. I asked a woman sitting near about the station where I would exit the train. She told me which stop my station would follow. Then a man sitting next to her said, “I will tell you when we get to the station you need.” He did. I knew I would never see this good gentleman again, who had helped me on this brief journey, so as I got up to leave, I touched his shoulder and said, “Have a good life.”

It is what I say to you today, wherever you are on this journey. Have a good life.

Gary

Then the little children were being brought to him

in order that he might lay his hands on them and pray.

The disciples spoke sternly to those who brought

them; but Jesus said, “Let the little children come

to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as

these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.”

Matthew 19:13-15

RIGHT OUTSIDE MY DOOR

I am sitting in my favorite chair

reading the afternoon paper

when I hear the sound of the

kingdom of heaven.

I go to the window

and there,

right there,

on the sidewalk

in front of my house,

the kingdom of heaven,

riding their bikes,

running,

giggling,

telling secrets,

having a great time,

right outside my door.

Gary

HOME AGAIN

I wait each day,

while away from home,

for evening to come,

when all our work is done.

Then I walk with purpose

to the one phone

in the building,

hoping no one has walked

faster than I.

I punch eleven numbers.

She answers,

700 miles away.

For the next 10 minutes

I am home again.

Gary

I SHOULD THANK THEM

She's the gal who greets me

at the deli counter.

She's the mother who cuts my hair,

while I look at her sons' pictures taped to the mirror.

He's the guy at the post office who sells the stamps,

weighs the packages, thanks me for coming.

She's the woman at the library

who checks out the books.

She's the lady who runs my credit card

after I fill the car with gas.

We have no connection,

except this brief time.

But I look forward to seeing them,

sharing brief conversation.

We talk about the weather

and about the work.

I ask about the kids

and about the cancer.

Since we are almost strangers,

we are safe with one another.

We have other lives in other places:

Spouses, children, loss, joy, struggle, pleasure.

But here, now, there is only welcome and kindness.

Here we let the rest go for this brief fine moment.

I should thank them.

Gary

The most important person in the room

If you find
yourself
in a crowded
room
with Jesus, 
the most
important person
in that room is
the one
with the 
greatest 
need.


Gary

MARRIED LONG

It is not the same passion,

but it is passion non the less.

It is the passion of being

with, of shared secrets,

long periods of

comfortable silence.

The passion of

knowing another's

faults and still

being friends.

The passion of

being safe

with this one

always, always.

No fear, except

that it will end.

One will

leave and the other

will be alone.

One flesh

torn apart.

Gary

The right to go on living an ordinary life

The largest ghetto uprising of World War II took place on April 19, 1943.

Hitler’s army had invaded Poland in the fall of 1939 and, after three weeks of resistance, Warsaw surrendered. There were about 300,000 Jews in Warsaw to begin with, but thousands more Jewish refugees soon came in from smaller towns. In October of 1940, the Nazis announced the establishment of the Warsaw Ghetto.

A wall was built around a section of the city, twenty blocks by six blocks. All Jews in the city were given a month to move into the ghetto, while all non-Jews were ordered to leave. Conditions were horrible. The elderly and the children died first.

Eventually, small resistance groups began to pop up in the ghetto. In the summer of 1942, the Nazis began deporting Jews from the ghetto to the concentration camp in Treblinka. From July to September, more that 300,000 Jews were deported, leaving about 50,000 people in the ghetto. When news leaked back to the ghetto of the mass murders, the resistance groups became better organized, making grenades, bombs, and mines, and creating a chain of tunnels and bunkers for the people to hide in.

In January of 1943, ghetto fighters opened fire on German troops as they tried to round up more people for deportation. The Nazis were forced to retreat. Then on April 19, 1943, the first day of Passover, hundreds of German soldiers entered the ghetto in rows of tanks, planning to destroy the ghetto in three days. The resistance held on for almost a month, but the revolt ended on May 16 and the remaining Jews were either shot or sent off to concentration camps.

Irena Klepfisz (1941- ), author and teacher, was two years old during the Warsaw Ghetto uprising. Her father was killed on the second day. On the forty-fifth anniversary of the uprising, Irena Klepfisz said, “What we grieve for is not the loss of a grand vision, but rather the loss of common things, . . . the right to go on living . . . an ordinary life.”

To live an ordinary life is all that most people ask. There are the tyrants and the bullies, the narcissists and the greedy who must be denied, but most of God’s children ask only the right to go on living with a sense of purpose and self-worth. Jesus called it the Kingdom of God. To have some understanding of how it works and how it feels, hold a baby in your arms.

Gary

This greater truth

Last Thursday Lucas came into this world. He lives next door. And we who have met him have come to know that even though he has done nothing to earn his keep, nor has he brought anything to this world in the way of productivity, he is cherished and valued. He is fed and held, smiled upon and touched tenderly. People gather around him and are immediately filled with joy. He has not been successful or earned wealth, he has not given a fine speech or won a race, he has not run for office or taken up a cause. Yet he is loved.

His two brothers have already welcomed Lucas into their home and into their lives; no test to pass, no initiation. “That’s our brother.”

His parents have no doubt that he is both gift and responsibility. Is he going to disrupt things? For sure. He will need almost constant attention for quite some time. He will remind his parents and his brothers that he is only concerned about his own comfort and wants, and he will need to be taught to share, to wait his turn, and to look out for the welfare of others, including his brothers.

But before all and above all, Lucas is loved. Before he showed his beautiful face to the world, he was loved. While he is wailing out his desire to be fed or changed or held, he is loved. The greatest truth about Lucas is not that he will exhibit selfishness or that he will at some time fail or that he will do things which are not good or helpful. No, the greatest truth about this child is that he is loved.

Lucas is a sinner and therefore he will sin. Someday he may hit one of his brothers. He will certainly disobey his mother and argue with his dad. He will do things that are not good or kind, but that is not his identity. His identity is not sinner; his identity is child of God. He is not, first of all, someone who commits sin, who does wrong; he is, first of all, someone who is loved. He is created in the very image of God and he is meant to reflect that image.

Genesis, the first book of the Bible, tells of our disobedience and rebellion against God. We are reminded of our pride, our desire to be like God, our jealousy, and even our willingness to taken another life. But before that, when God first breathed into humankind the breath of life, we are told, “God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good” (Genesis 1:31).

The way we see Lucas and value his life is the way God looks upon each child of God. In our Lutheran tradition we are quick to acknowledge we are sinners. We press home that truth by beginning worship with a confession of our sins. That is one truth about us, and our lives bear witness. But there is this other truth, this greater truth that we are made in the image of God. We are loved, unconditionally.

Like Lucas.

Gary

A thing of beauty is a joy forever

I am in Stillwater, Minnesota on a warm day in May, inside a theological bookstore located in a building that was once a church. I am searching through row upon row of books, when I hear the sound of someone coming in through the door just off to my left. I glance up. She looks to be about thirty years old, dressed from the top of her head to the top of her shoes in white. I am sure she is a Catholic sister and I am sure she is beautiful. She greets me with a smile and a nod of her head, and as I return the greeting, she moves past me further into the store. A short time later I sense movement to my right, and look up to see her again as she is leaving. As she passes, she once again greets me with a smile and a nod of her head. Again I return the greeting. Then, as she is about to go out the door, I say to her back, “By the way, you look quite beautiful, you know.” She turns, blushes, smiles, and says, “Thank you.” Then as she goes out the door, she adds, perhaps to herself, perhaps to God, “I love wearing this habit.”

I have no lesson here. I simply like that young Catholic sister in her white habit. I like her smile, the blush on her cheeks, the fact that she likes wearing her habit and likes looking beautiful in it. I cherish those few moments in her presence and doubt I will ever forget them.

Often beauty will come, unexpected and undeserved, like a gentle rain in the midst of a dry summer. Our only work is to take notice and give thanks. Still again, we make choices in life. We can choose to look for beauty, goodness, and grace, or we can close our eyes, stop our ears, and howl like some wounded creature caught in a trap, damning all, refusing all, and loving nothing. We can be so inward turned as to find no joy in another’s joy, no compassion for another’s plight, and no desire to reach out and lift up someone who has fallen. Or we can recognize our own need to be loved and figure out that perhaps such is also true for everyone else in this world. We can search out beauty, and when it is found, we can cherish the finding, give thanks to God for such a blessing as this, and hold it in our heart for all time. As John Keats (1795-1821) tells us in his epic poem Endymion, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.”

Gary

I saw Good Friday

I saw Good Friday

on the news last night.

I witnessed the hate

and fear.

I heard the shouts

of rage,

saw the contorted faces

of hate.

A tall blonde woman,

perhaps beautiful

in repose,

raised her arms,

folded her fingers

into a fist

and shook

until her beauty

left.

There must have been

fathers and mothers

there.

The buses came

then left.

Because these good people,

these descendants of immigrants,

had gathered and now

were shouting,

crucify.

Crucify.

Gary

When something breaks

The sign that marked an acre or more of deserted cars promised, “If it’s broke, we can fix it.”

I remember the time I bought a long florescent light bulb to replace the old one, which had burned out. I took the old bulb along to the store as something to match the new one against. Returning, I drove into the garage, got out of the car, took one bulb in each hand, turned, tripped, and dropped one of the bulbs. I would not be remembering or telling this story, had I dropped the old burned-out one. That new bulb would not be fixed, not even by the self-assured guy who made promises about old cars. Some things cannot be fixed.

I have spoken words to people in anger, and it was as if I had dropped that new florescent light bulb. Something broke and it would not be fixed.

Forgiveness is real, but not magic. It will not change the past or erase the memory. Forgiveness says, “I am sorry for what I have done, and I ask you to love me even though I know, and you know, that I have done this terrible wrong to you.” Forgiveness can heal, but there is no guarantee that either party will forget. Some things cannot be put back together again.

Forgiveness is no excuse for bad behavior. We are responsible for the words we speak, for the lives we live.

In his Small Catechism, Martin Luther’s morning prayer includes this petition: “. . . protect me today from sin and all evil, so that my life and actions may please you.”

Gary

Garage sale at the cemetery

A simple sign is posted

at the corner of the cemetery.

GARAGE SALE!

What could be for sale

at a cemetery?

What would one not want

or need anymore?

Regrets? Failures?

Who would buy such?

Won’t sell at any price.

But do you have some laughter

left over or some sweet

conversation you

no longer need?

Of course you will

hang unto the memories,

and the dreams, even

those unfulfilled.

Gary

Normal is a setting on a washing machine

Only about ten percent of the world’s population is left-handed, yet of the seven U.S. presidents since 1974, five are left-handed. Those five are: Gerald Ford (38), Ronald Reagan (40), George H. W. Bush (41), William Jefferson Clinton (42), and Barack Obama (44). The two right-handed gentlemen are Jimmy Carter (39) and George W. Bush (43).

Some other left-handed people you may have heard about: Babe Ruth, Bill Gates, Jimi Hendrix, Neil Armstrong, Leonardo da Vinci, Albert Einstein, Paul McCartney.

It is thought, though not proven, that left-handed people have a bit higher IQ and are more likely to excel in sports. Yet, as recently as the 1940s and 50s there have been teachers who forced left-handed students to write with their right hands by tying their left hands behind their backs. Some students were paddled on their left hand in order to convert them. To write with the left hand was considered unnatural. The left-handed person was thought to be abnormal.

When I began my studies at seminary, our national church did not allow women to be pastors. There are passages in the Bible that are pretty clear about women keeping silent in the church. But a few women joined our seminary classes anyway. At that time they were doing something women were not supposed to do, something abnormal. Later, we, the church changed our mind, in part because of those first few brave women who felt called by God. How blessed we are now to have many good pastors serving the church of Jesus Christ, who just happen to be women.

Philip Yancey, in his book Soul Survivor, writes of growing up in Georgia in the 1960s, and of a pastor who “preached blatant racism from the pulpit. Dark races are cursed by God, he said, citing an obscure passage in Genesis. They function well as servants . . . but never as leaders.” (Waterbrook Press, 2003, pp.1-2.) In other words, “They are less, they are abnormal.”

There are children in our families, in our communities, in our churches who are made to feel they are less because they are homosexual. They are considered, by some, to be abnormal. Archbishop emertius Desmond Tutu, of South Africa, in a sermon preached in Southwark Cathedral in London in 2004, said, “. . . black people were being blamed and made to suffer for something we could do nothing about—our very skins. It is the same with sexual orientation. It is a given.”

The movie Temple Grandin (2010) tells the story of a woman who is autistic, who did not learn to talk until she was four years old, who was teased in school for her “strange” behavior, and who went on to graduate from college, and to earn a Masters and a Ph.D. She has written three books and now teaches at a university. She is a celebrity, but growing up she was considered abnormal. In the film, she says her mom and her teachers along the way “knew I was different but not less.” She also says, “I know there are a lot of things I can’t understand, but I still want my life to have meaning.”

I have three sisters, so there are four siblings. We are very different from one another, yet none of us is less. We are family. God created us an infinite variety. So what’s normal? Well, normal is just a setting on a washing machine.

Gary

JUMPING

I watch my grandsons

as they jump on the couch,

jump down unto the floor,

jump back up again,

with seemingly no effort.

Jump up and jump down.

It seems unfair, to tell the truth.

Should we not grow into jumping?

Should it not come later in life,

after living for awhile upon this earth?

Should it not come after years

of practicing and several

rehearsals?

Perhaps after some college.

Maybe an undergraduate

degree in jumping?

Why should it be that they,

so young, just beginning life,

without any practice,

with no teaching whatsoever,

should be able

to do something that I,

their grandfather,

cannot do?

I should protest to them,

but I find I cannot catch them.

They have both just

jumped away.

Gary

IT TAKES TWO OF US

Mostly it is about forgetting.

Either I am forgetting something

or she is forgetting something.

So we have come to this conclusion:

It takes two of us to be one

almost fully functioning

human being.

Gary

DON'T MAKE IT ANY WORSE

When he would leave his office

and his staff,

he would say to them all,

Don't make it any worse.

Imagine it a word

we could speak

to those who come after.

Imagine it a word spoken by

those who came before.

Gary

WHILE OUT WALKING

While out walking one cool morning,

I passed a rabbit sitting alone.

He happened to be eating breakfast.

“Good morning Rabbit,”

I said with a smile.

“Good morning” said he,

with his mouth full of green.

“May you have a good day,” said I.

“May you also,” said he.

And while Rabbit

finished his breakfast,

I walked on,

feeling even better than before.

I hoped he felt as good as I

for our meeting.

Gary

IF I COULD GO BACK

I suppose it happens to all of us.

We simply are incapable of knowing.

Until we trade places.

Until we are no longer the child.

Until we become the parent of the child.

Perhaps then we see the truth of how we were.

When I consider my own children,

I wonder why they do not ask:

How was it when you were a child?

How did you meet?

Did you ever doubt yourself?

Were you ever afraid?

If I could go back,

I would ask to hear the stories

and about falling in love.

If I could go back,

I would ask, What was it like

when you were me?

And I would listen more.

If I could go back,

I would listen to their lives

before I was me.

Gary

WHAT DOES JESUS HAVE TO SAY?

True story. He is a lawyer, a good one, who has argued before the Supreme Court. Not long ago he stood before that Court on behalf of those who wished to uphold California's ban on gay marriage. He supported the ban. While making arguments in the case, he learned that one of his children is gay. Now he is helping his daughter plan her wedding with another woman. In other words, he changed his mind.

About a year ago, a United States Senator, who was on record as opposed to gay marriage, also changed his mind when his son announced he was a gay man. The Senator said, "It allowed me to think of this issue from a new perspective, and that's of a Dad who loves his son a lot and wants him to have the same opportunities that his brother and sister would have--to have a relationship like Jane and I have had for over 26 years.”

In the Christian Church when one changes their mind it is called repentance.

I am glad these gentlemen love their children enough to see with new eyes, are willing to change their minds, willing to repent, and willing to say so out loud.

What makes me sad, a bit angry, is the fact that these two men were not able to see that everyone who is gay is someone's son or daughter. These men changed their minds only when they looked into the eyes of their own children. They failed to look into the eyes of other people's children.

We share this earth with a great variety of people. I remember in Sunday School singing “Red, brown, yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world.”

When God completed creation, “God saw everything that God had made, and indeed, it was very good (Genesis 1:31).” In truth, some of God's children are gay. They are born that way. And they are loved by God. Shame on us when we make others feel guilty or less or ashamed for who they are.

About this time, some of you reading these words are getting more than a bit upset with me. You will tell me to read my Bible. Fair enough. But then let us also ask some questions of the Bible.

I quote from David Lose, professor at Luther Seminary, St. Paul, who asks, “What does the Bible really say about homosexuality?” Here is a part of his answer:

“Actually, a whole lot less than you might imagine! That may be hard to believe given the fierce rhetoric Christians often employ when talking about homosexuality, but there are really only seven passages in the Bible that refer directly to homosexual behavior, and none of them are associated with Jesus. Compare that to the more than 250 verses on the proper use of wealth or more than 300 on our responsibility to care for the poor and work for justice, and you appreciate quickly that homosexuality was not exactly a major theme of the Bible.”

(Huffington Post, Oct. 10, 2011.)

Leviticus (chapters 18 and 20) does include verses that speak of homosexual behavior as an abomination. But Leviticus (chapter 19) also gives instruction on how men should cut their hair and commands that no one get a tattoo. So what does one do with this book? Do the words of Leviticus finally guide us in faith and life?

The Apostle Paul, in letters to the Christian congregations in Rome (Romans 1:26-27) and Corinth (I Corinthians 6:9-11), and to his friend Timothy (I Timothy 1:9-11), wrote words of judgment upon homosexual behavior. But the passages raise the question of whether Paul was speaking of consensual, loving, committed relationships or was he speaking of rape?

I am a Christian who leans Lutheran. The Apostle Paul is important to me. “Justification by grace through faith” is a central tenant of our Church. But I don't agree with everything Paul says. Writing to the congregation in Corinth, Paul concludes “ . . . in all the churches of the saints, women should be silent in the churches . . . should be subordinate, . . .” (I Corinthians 14).

Paul lived in a different time. I believe today he would come to a different conclusion about the participation of women in the Church. In the same way, today we have a better understanding about what it means to be gay. That being gay is not a matter of choice, but a matter of birth.

So I ask myself, what kind of life do I want to lead? More importantly, who do I want to follow?

I do not wish to live my life making judgments upon others. Finally God will judge us all, and as Frederick Buechner writes, “the one who judges us most finally will be the one who loves us most fully.” (Listening to Your Life)

It is much more fun to live a life of welcome, seeing each person as a child of God, an heir to the kingdom of heaven, and enjoying their company while we share this earth for a brief time.

Finally, the writer of Leviticus is not Jesus. Moses is not Jesus. Paul is not Jesus. And I have decided to follow Jesus.

So then, what does Jesus have to say about homosexuality? Absolutely nothing.

Gary

Morning Benediction

It was early when

I stepped into Hardee’s

to pick up breakfast.

He looked tired already.

Perhaps because of the time.

Perhaps because of the job.

His voice carried no emotion.

Take your order?

For here or to go?

Routine.

Said it too often already.

I stepped to the counter.

Take your order?

For here or to go?

I handed him my credit card.

He swiped it, looked at it.

Thank you Gary Westgard.

I looked at his name tag.

Thank you Charlie.

I backed away, waited.

My order came.

Leaving,

I shouted across the room.

Hey Charlie!

He looked up.

Have a good day, Charlie.

He smiled.

Then, almost at the door,

he shouted back to me.

Thank you.

Then added with

that smile now in his voice.

God bless.

Gary

What if we talked with adults

What if we talked with adults

in the same way we talk to children?

What if we said, my how big you have gotten!

Or, on your birthday, how old will you be then?

When we talk with adults,

we ask, where do you work? Do you like your new car?

What if we asked, what makes you sad?

Or looked them in the eye and said, how beautiful you are.

When we talk with adults,

we talk about what shows on the outside.

Children, still new, still learning to pretend,

are not so concerned about their pride or your pride.

Children ask the honest questions,

speak what is on their minds,

don’t really know how to cover up,

hide the truth, shut the blinds.

Jesus desires we come like children,

not meaning we cast away the years,

dispense with wisdom that comes from living.

Rather, we tell the truth, speak even of our fears.

So be the child! Cry when you are hurting.

Tell another you may have lost your way,

that you are not so sure about yourself;

could use some help to get through the day.

Gary

She Forgets

She forgets.

It troubles her.

There is this desire

to fix it, make it better,

but no one knows how.

So it is her present and

her future.

It is and it will be

this way now.

To forget one's keys

or an appointment,

is frustrating.

But this is something else.

This losing of self,

of one's recent past.

The childhood is there,

but yesterday is gone.

Birthdays and family

are in the mind,

but this morning's

conversation has

disappeared.

Whole pieces of life

gone.  But where?

She remembers

that she forgets,

and therein lies

the sorrow.

Gary