Revitalize Your Church

A few weejks ago, as the young people led us in worship, they sang the strangest song about hurricanes, sinking oceans, and a sloppy wet kiss. I struggled to make sense of all those metaphors. Sloppy wet kiss? Where in the world did that come from? Why were we singing such sophomoric emotings? I scratched my head, and jotted a note for Tuesday's staff meeting -- "No more sloppy wet kiss songs." In the days that followed, I couldn't get the chorus out of my mind, "O, how he loves us so. . ." I went online to see if I could find out a little more about the meaning behind the song . . . and WOAH, was I ever surprised. I'd misundertood the meaning and context. "How He Loves Us" was written by John Mark McMillan, after the death of a close friend. The main point is that even in our pain and anger, through the darkest fog of confusion, God's love breaks through. The song captures a heart of praise, from the crucible of suffering. Understood in t...

Here's a great post from my dear friend and partner in ministry, Heath Davis. His blog, A Northoods Life is outstanding.

As I was watching the heart wrenching news from Haiti this evening, an alarming thought crossed my mind: Some preacher is going to say something really stupid about this. Sure enough -- Here it is. Of course, this nothing new. Every time we've had a national or international tragedy, some reverend's mouth opens wide enough to insert a foot. Instead of trying to fix the blame for such human suffering, (insinuating they deserve it somehow) we ought to be responding with compassion. I like Craig Uffman's compassionate and Christlike response to the question, "Where Was God in the Earthquake." Theologian David Bentley Hart offers the best answer I know in his book The Doors of the Sea: Where Was God in the Tsunami ? He wrote it upon reflecting on the great tsunami that struck Asia in 2004. Hart reminds us that "we are to be guided by the full character of what is revealed of God in Christ. For, after all, if it is from Christ that we are to learn how God relat...

This is a re-posting of something I wrote a couple of years ago. I used it in my sermon this morning, and several people asked for a copy of the poem. It's a touching story. One day, after making a hospital visit in Duluth, Minnesota, I was drawn by the spire of the old First Presbyterian Church. A kind secretary opened up the sanctuary for me to sit and pray for a while. Gazing around, my eyes fell upon a beautiful stained glass window. It was the picture of a gravestone with dark purple and black hues overshadowing it. But at the top of the window, squarely in the center of a black night, shone a bright golden star -- which seemed to exude hope and light. The star was the focal point of the window. At the bottom, the following words were inscribed: In memory of Sarah Agnes Graff 1853-1889 Build a little fence of trust around today. Fill the space with loving work and therein stay. Look not through the sheltering bars upon tomorrow. God will help thee bear whatever comes, if joy ...

Tomorrow, I will be conducting the funeral service for Oliver, a 22 year old, who was a part of our youth group, and attended our church on many occasions. I really liked O. J. We always got along well with each other. He was a bright and friendly young man, full of vibrant life. His unexpected death is still a mystery. He just didn't show up for work for a couple of days -- and those who went to check on him, found he had died in his sleep. O. J.'s daddy is a member of our congregation. My heart breaks for this precious family in their hour of darkest sorrow. In times like this, we are left bewildered. It is in regard to this sort of confusion that Larry Crabb writes: Our shattered dreams are never random. They are always a piece in a larger puzzle, a chapter in a larger story. Pain is a tragedy. But it's never only a tragedy. . . The journey to joy takes us through shattered dreams. (Crabb, Shattered Dreams)

This morning, I finished a good book by Carol Kent, When I Lay My Isaac Down: Unshakable Faith in Unthinkable Circumstances. It's the story of how she processed the terrible news that her 25 year old son had shot and killed a man. It is a good encouragement for anybody suffering through painful and perplexing experiences -- particularly, in regard to their children. The best thought I found was a question: Are you living closer to Good Friday or Easter Sunday?

An interesting dialogue on the problem of suffering between Bart Ehrman and N. T. Wright.

Good religion transforms our pain. Bad religion transmits it. -- Richard Rohr

As the tragic story unfolds this week, we are left with the haunting question: "WHY? I'm sure that's what the families gathered today for funeral services of the slain students are asking. There's just not a very good answer to that question. Over the years, I've dealt with a fair share of tragedy in my ministry, and have had several people look at me, as God's representative, wondering, "Why??" Any bungling attempt to give an answer is woefully inadequate. When people ask me "why", I simply say, "I don't know." It doesn't do any good to give a theological discourse on the problem of evil or the philosophical foundation for suffering. "I don't know" is the most profound answer available. Then I try to steer them towards two other questions: "How?" and "Who?" How are we going to get through this? Answer: One day at a time. One moment at a time. One breath at a time. Who is going to help me ...