Sunday Worship8, 9:30, & 11 am
If you are a fan of Tex-Mex cooking, few things are as delicious as a plate of sizzling fajitas. En route, you can hear them pop and crack and then whap! – your senses are overwhelmed by the sight and smell of the blackened iron skillet set down before you.
The memory that children have always surprises me! Some can name for you every U.S. president; others can tell you every kind of dinosaur. For me, I could quote some of my favorite movies from start to finish with ease. I don’t know where that gift of memory went, but I know it’s long gone. I suppose that, as one gets older, memory becomes more about recalling passwords, pin numbers, and parental carpooling schedules. After all, much like a computer, our brains only have so much room to store information. So, as the more pressing day-to-day concerns begin to pile up, we slowly lose storage space for holding information like the schedule for Saturday morning cartoons.
It won’t be long until things return to normal. If you’ve been living out of a suitcase and traveling during these weeks, the coming days will see your clothes moving back in to your dresser and your toiletries returning to the cabinet or drawer where they belong. If you hosted guests in your home, the Laundry Fairy (at least that is who punches the clock at our place) will make her rounds to wash up the bedding and wipe everything down.
My office is covered with fluorescent sticky notes. On the desk, stuck in the pages of books, and up and down the wall, there are countless 3” x 3” colorful squares holding lists, names, numbers, words, tasks, ideas, prayers, and other random scribbles and scrabbles of life. Everywhere I look, these little, bright visual cues remind me of someone to call, a plan to explore, or ways to be grateful.
It’s not every day that you hear a kid say “I want to be a politician when I grow up!” As strange as it may sound, I was that kid. Throughout high school, and especially grade school, I remember running for leadership positions in my class. As just a little guy, I remember election day, wearing a patriotic tie with gel slicking my hair back.
Although at times I probably wanted to represent the class for all the wrong reasons, I still like to think that helping others was somewhere at the heart of those youthful days. Thankfully, I have grown out of that phase. Today, I cannot even fathom ever wanting to go into politics, however that same calling to serve others propelled me into the ministry.
God challenges us to love with reckless abandon, see the best in others, and celebrate the gifts, talents, and contributions of all people. God invites us to live as people of hope!
I recently went to a big box home improvement store and was more disoriented than usual. A short walk through the main entrance set me on a holiday parade unlike any I’ve ever seen.
Right inside the front doors, I was in the land of pumpkins and scarecrows, ghosts and headstones, spiders and even an 8-foot tall, lighted Darth Vader yard inflatable. Just a few steps later, I took a trip to Pilgrimville, surrounded by a floor to ceiling display of turkey-shaped items, autumnal decor, and a cornucopia centerpiece bulging with plastic gourds, corn, and feathers. Not to be outdone by these two “minor” holidays, the rest of the seasonal featured area was populated with a virtual forest, complete with artificial evergreens, sparkling lights, and glistening bows of every size and color.
As I get settled into the worship community, lots of good conversations have led to exploring the differences between being a pastor and an intern. One way to approach this difference is to become accustom to the candidacy route that someone undergoes to become a pastor.