John Lynner Peterson
C’mon in my writing den – The Maple Loft.
A dear friend says, “The quality of my life is the quality of my relationships.”
Help yourself to the writings, stories, and sermons that are posted here.
They’re my way of staying in touch with cherished friends from across 6+ decades of life and 4+ decades of ministry
. . . and hopefully cultivating new relationships for years to come.
If I can be of any help or encouragement, speak, teach, preach or keynote an event for you, let’s talk.
Send me an email using the contact form, subscribe to my newsletter below, or just drop by now and then.
I’ll do my best to make sure it’s worth your while.
David’s Newest Book: Pew & Pavement
Thirty stories of urban ministry paved with gospel gladness.
The Bible begins in a garden but ends in a city. Here are stories born of a remarkable congregation’s century-plus ministry from their sanctuary’s pews to the pavement of the hurly-burly, bawdy, boisterous city. David Shirey introduces a cast of characters who have in common an uncommon tenacity and tenderness. Ella on bended knee with her toenail clippers. Cliff the barber with his toolbox and Bible, praying on the roof at the base of the steeple. Carol orchestrating the mother of all Vacation Bible Schools. Millie’s unbounded munificence to neighbors in need. From the asphalt streets of St. Louis’ near south side, here are thirty stories of urban ministry paved with gospel gladness. Enjoy!
About
David A. Shirey’s stories, slice-of-life vignettes, essays, and sermons ponder day-to-day life for glimpses of God’s redeeming grace.
He looks out at the world from his desk of curiosities under the canopy of a majestic maple.
A pastor for forty years, he grew up a Buckeye, graduated a Hoosier, and now lives and writes in the Kentucky Bluegrass with the thoroughbreds, bourbon, and Big Blue Nation.
He and his wife Jennie have a son and two daughters, three grandchildren, a granddog, and cherished friendships from across their life together.
John Lynner Peterson
John Lynner Peterson
Writings
A wise elder in the Lexington, KY, church I served from 2014-2022 had held nearly every position a lay member could. He’d seen it all – the church and its people in all their glory and gory from the inside out. One day, musing over an incident when something went sideways at meeting and someone threw up their hands in exasperation, Josh folded his hands, placed them on his chest, calmly shook his head, and opined, “If you work where the sausage is made, sometimes it can make you sick to your stomach.”
Jennie and I just returned from a bucket list trip to New England to bask in the fall foliage. We thereby joined a pilgrimage undertaken annually by tens of thousands of “leaf peepers,” a term that sounds uncomfortably voyeuristic, but what can I say? We ogled unsuspecting leaves as they changed from their summer green wardrobe to their fall yellows, reds, and oranges. We oohed, aahed, and whistled catcalls as maples, elms, and birches denuded themselves before our peeping eyes. Leaf peepers? Guilty as charged.
Having lived in Hurricane Alley on the NC coast during the 1990s while serving First Christian, Wilmington, I’ve experienced hurricanes. Hugo made landfall north of Charleston, SC, the year our family arrived in Wilmington (1989). In ensuing years, Bertha (1996), Fran (1996), and Bonnie (1998) came a-callin’.
The first two questions that proceed from people’s mouths after a hurricane are 1) Are you all right? and 2) Do you have power? Power as in electricity, which after hurricanes we were without for anywhere from hours to days to weeks.
Donald was, for all intents and purposes, a hobo. In an earlier era, Donald would have called the rail yards home. He would have hopped trains, slept in a rolling boxcar, and carried his worldly belongings in a bandana tied to the end of a pole slung over his shoulder. Cue Roger Miller’s “King of the Road.”
I don’t know how many people these days equate the pursuit of happiness with the pursuit of moral excellence or how many seek and aspire to be selfless leaders who evidence the capacity for self-control – strength rooted in gentleness – but it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.
Too many are cowed by voices and movements hell-bent on destruction. Being in the presence of genius fills me with hope. What all these brilliant bodies, minds, and souls have in common is they are investing themselves in the common good. They are construction workers in the best and fullest sense of the word. By their brains, brawn, and bold audacity of their labor, they are building a better world. They are winsome sources and forces for the good: uniting, affirming, uplifting, delighting, illumining, encouraging, and edifying.
What is it about porches? Located at the intersection of home and world, a porch is liminal space. Betwixt and between. Neither here nor there. A porch straddles public and private, indoors and outdoors. As such, a good porch is an inviting space that welcomes resident and guest to a meeting place where both can be enriched by each others’ presence in the presence of God’s creation.
Glamping noun “a form of camping involving accommodation and facilities more luxurious than those associated with traditional camping.”
Who would’ve known that there were two venues for life-changing spiritual direction leasing space in that North Phoenix strip mall all those years? God knows I needed the help God’s servant Amanda provided to keep me on track every bit as much as those teens need Alice Cooper’s benevolent tutelage. Left to our own devices, those teens and I are – what are the words? – at risk.
The soundtrack to the summer nights of my childhood was the voices of retired Cleveland Indians pitchers Herb Score and my favorite – Jim “Mudcat” Grant, the tenor of whose voice was the definition of mellifluous (look it up). Mudcat accompanied Herb Score’s play-by-play with anecdotes and observations seasoned with a warmth and self-deprecating humor that was the icing on the cake of those summer nights.
What have you learned this year as an interim at Broadway?
I was asked that question at dinner last week by my mentor and friend Rick Frost. Rick pastored Broadway alongside my dear fried and prayer partner Kim Gage Ryan for 20+ years. Theirs was a faithful, fruitful ministry. I promised him a response which I share with you. What follows are not new learnings as much as reaffirmations of lessons learned over forty years.
Gentle warning to readers: long wait ahead. Here is something to read while you wait:
Twenty years ago, Tom Hanks starred in the movie Terminal as Viktor Navorski. After flying into JFK airport, the Eastern European man, denied admission to the US and unable to return to his homeland, is stranded in the JFK terminal for nine months. Below is the timeline and journal notes from my recent starring role in Terminal - Dallas Fort Worth Airport edition.
One of the people Jennie caught me up on is a curmudgeon, albeit a Christian one – a cranky Christ follower (Is that an oxymoron?). Every congregation has a few. Churches and pastors, in our propensity to be nice, find it difficult to set boundaries for bullies or speak a firm No to the overly ornery. As such, we become enablers, safe harbors for people with hurtful dispositions. I’ve had my share of correspondence and come-to-Jesus meetings with parishioners behaving badly, but few if any produced lasting change. As Taylor Swift sang, “Haters gonna hate.” And curmudgeons gonna curmudge.
A man who looked to be in his sixties, his graying hair disheveled by the wind, walked up to where we were working.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “Going to have a concert? Having a wedding or something?”
“No,” we answered, “We’re having an Easter Sunrise Service tomorrow morning.”
With that, his voice took on a brusque, defensive tone.
“Well,” he huffed, “it’s just a belief. You can believe anything you want, I guess. But that’s all it is – just a belief.” Whereupon he harrumphed, turned, and walked away swiftly.
I’m in my ninth month of interim ministry at Broadway Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Columbia, MO. The congregation’s Lead Pastor Search Committee, after a nationwide search process, has narrowed down their field of candidates. They’re getting close. To which I say, Amen. Believe me when I tell you that as an interim pastor, the substitute teacher whose shelf life is dated by the arrival of your successor, you pray for the success of the Search Team.
I typed “It’s one of my favorite memories. I hope it’s true” into the world’s fastest, most comprehensive search engine, clicked enter, and in 0.46 seconds Google replied, No results found for "It's one of my favorite memories. I hope it’s true."
Never in recorded history has anyone ever said such a thing.
In the fall of 1923, at the age of 40, Franz Kafka (1883-1924), who never married or had children, was walking in Stieglitz Park in Berlin when he met a girl who was crying because she had lost her favorite doll.
Having strung together the trio of words church Personnel Committee, please don’t hang up on me. Depending on your history with Personnel Committees – performance reviews, action plans, annual reviews, grievances and such – just the sight of the words may have triggered a knot in your stomach or a latent resentment. I get it. But, as I asked at the outset of this paragraph, please hang in there with me for a few minutes.
That Maria had endeared herself to so many was evidence by the line in which Jennie and I stood during the previous evening’s visitation that wound its way from where Maria lay in the church’s original sanctuary, into the hallway, and all the way down to Fellowship Hall. People of all ages and abilities, including many of Maria’s classmates in wheelchairs, waited thirty minutes and more to pay their respects.
I wrote in my journal the next morning, “A lot of love in there last night.”
And how much fertilizer do partridges, turtledoves, French hens, calling birds, geese, swans and cows provide over a 12-day period?Total manure production is 16,173.7 pounds. (Dean Miner)
Let me just say this: Things don't always go according to script in our lives. Did 2023 go according to script for you? Do you think 2024 will? Not a chance. But fear not, because God can redeem things that aren’t going according to script. That includes not only Christmas pageants, but lives: including your life and mine. And worlds: this one.
We’re a long way from home this Advent, but thanks to her homemaking touch Jennie went to Lexington and got us a Christmas to go, a carry out order of just enough red, green, gold and silver memorabilia to do what this season does: awaken our memory of precious people and places.
For the last weeks of her life, Mom lived with my sister and her husband. When Hospice was called, they brought a bed and set it up in the living room. And next to the bed was placed the set of stairs that Hope could ascend so as to lie next to my mother.
Mom’s other constant companion in those final weeks was her four-year-old great-grandson, Elijah. It was not lost on me that Mom’s dearest companions in her final days were a boy whose name means “The Lord is God” and a dog named Hope.
“When I saw that, I just shook my head. I knew we had a live wire.”
This piece was recently published digitally in the monthly newsletter of our Disciples’ Proclamation Project, an outstanding resource for preachers. Kudos to my colleague, Rev. Lee Hull Moses for curating the site.
I realize I was in the presence of one who realized life while he lived it. Clocks ticking, sunflowers, food and coffee, hot baths, sleeping and waking up. I have no doubt Jack fully appreciated each one. For him, the last years of his life, every last day, was gravy.
Coolwater Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), the congregation Jennie and I founded in 2002, celebrated its final worship service last Sunday. I spent last Friday afternoon reflecting on the trajectory of Coolwater’s birth and growth, the obstacles we overcame, and the congregation’s steadfast faithfulness and perseverance since our call to Lexington nine years ago.
What provided me the consolation I needed in the days leading up to Coolwater’s final Sunday was remembering some of the stories behind those names.
Here’s just one…
Each year on the day of my birth and Dad’s death, September 26, I remember his visit, visage, and affirmation and receive them with gratitude for the gift they were … and still are.
Jennie’s aunt and uncle died within 10 months of each other. She lived to be 102; he to 101. They were remarkable people who requested a joint memorial service at which I preached last week. Their instructions: “We really want the focus to be on worship and not on us. A brief meditation on the love of God is our preference. Psalm 103 is a good reference.” The church was full. It was a memorial service for the ages (of 101 and 102). One of the honors of my life.
First Book: It Don’t Get Any Better Than This
©Karla Gerard
Revised and expanded with 15 new stories.
Click below to read one of the new stories
Pull up a chair and sit a spell. In three dozen stories seasoned with warmth, humor, and tenderness, David Shirey introduces a cast of inimitable characters. Chet and his peculiar mandolin (“Them rattlesnake rattles make it sound better!”). Margaret, the feisty octogenarian pianist. Harry bolting for the men’s room mid-sermon. Miz Ella promising homemade banana cream pie from her deathbed. These stories transcending time and place will delight anyone who relishes a good tale told in tones of the gospel story. Tuck a napkin in your collar and pull up to the table. You’re in for a treat.
“We couldn't put the book down.”
“Very addicting. I found myself saying, ‘I’ll just read one more story.’ Three stories later and I'm still reading.”
“This book is full of gems, stories that tug at my heart.”
Sermons
As I was thinking about a person’s legacy, I got to wondering about churches. Do churches create a legacy? How would a church hope to be remembered? I remember several years ago a book that asked: If your church disappeared from the face of the earth tomorrow, would anyone in the community grieve?
Sermon begins at 34:46
our Scripture this morning witnesses to what only can be called awe-inspiring giving. Paul wrote of the stewardship campaign at Heart of Macedonia Christian Church, “They begged us earnestly for the privilege of sharing” (2 Cor. 8:4) Now, as someone who has undertaken his share of stewardship campaigns over 42 years of ministry, that beats anything I’ve ever heard of. People begging to make a pledge? Pu-leeeze! Richard Austin. You’re our Financial Secretary. Treasurer Gordon Thayer. Have your cell phones been blowing up in recent weeks due to people begging you for an Estimate of Giving card? I don’t think so.
Watch the video of this sermon. Sermon begins at 27:30
You’d expect vitality from a church that has Heart in the middle of its name. So how do you measure a heart’s vitality? We speak of vital signs – Body temperature. Pulse rate. Respiration rate. Blood pressure. But how do you measure a church’s vitality? Can’t stick a thermometer into Heart of the Rockies. Can’t put a blood pressure cuff around your upper arm and two fingers on your wrist to check your heart. How do you measure a congregation’s vitality? One way is to measure worship attendance, budget, baptisms, new members. But I think those numbers are but fruits of much deeper sources of vitality. If the deeper vital signs are there, all the numbers will take care of themselves.
So, what are those vital signs?
Isn’t it true that from birth through our teen years and on into adulthood the deepest hunger of our hearts is to know that we’re beloved, that the favor of someone else rests upon us? Human beings are born hungering for love.
People bear witness to their faith in many ways, some of them unusual. Take the guy who used to show up at every major sporting event with rainbow-colored hair and a made-for-TV-sized placard that read JOHN 3:16. I used to wonder how he got the tickets he did because he always seemed to be close to the field. At football games, he sat in the end zone behind the goal posts so that when the cameras covered the extra point attempt, his placard would appear in the lower right-hand corner of the screen like a footnote to the score: Chiefs 17 Broncos 14 John 3:16.
From the time God's people left bondage in Egypt through the 40 years of their wilderness wandering and into the Promised Land, music accompanied their every step. Call it ‘traveling music.’ That’s what music does: it goes before us throughout our life’s journey – accompanies us through life’s high points as well as low points to the point that it can be said that music takes us places. Isn't that what our love for the old favorite hymns is all about? No matter what's going on in our lives, if we can just bring to mind a few bars of favorite music, we'll be all right. Just hearing a few notes takes us places.
Pastor Jesus promises his congregation he’ll leave them some dynamite: the power of the Holy Spirit.
Now, there are a lot of people who'd get a good laugh out of that – saying churches are powered by dynamite. I can hear some smart aleck say, Pardon me, Preacher, but if you asked me to come up with one word to describe my experience of church, dynamite wouldn’t make the top ten. Words that mean the opposite of dynamite would be there instead. Words that connote more fizzle than sizzle. Know what I mean?
We might wish Jesus would stay out of our pocketbooks and stick to heaven, but Jesus often mentions pocketbook and heaven in the same breath as if there’s a relationship between the two. This morning's scripture is a case in point. Says Jesus, "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
I submit to you that the miracle among miracles is what Paul witnessed at the church in Macedonia where he says (and I quote), “They begged us earnestly for the privilege of sharing” (2 Cor. 8:4) … in a Stewardship Campaign. You heard me right: a congregation that begged to contribute to a Stewardship Campaign. As someone who has undertaken his share of stewardship campaigns over 42 years of ministry, that beats anything I’ve ever heard of. People begging to make a pledge? Pu-leeeze!
There’s such a thing as an Easter posture. It’s exhibited this morning by the women running from the tomb exuberant, falling all over themselves to tell others what they’ve seen and heard. By contrast, there were two other postures exhibited that first Easter morning that are un-Easterlike…but not unusual. The postures I speak of represent two unhealthy orientations toward life. Let me describe them for you and tell you how Easter delivers us from them so we can rise up and live our lives out of an Easter posture.
Jesus borrowed everything, I tell you. And here's the bottom line: He'd like to borrow you. He'd like to borrow your life for the rest of your life. If I might borrow the words Jesus used on that first Palm Sunday: "If anyone asks you 'Why?', tell them the Lord has need of it." The Lord has need of your life.
Vulnerable though he was, Nicodemus didn’t walk away from Jesus; he walked to him. Hallelujah! Nicodemus didn’t walk away from Jesus out of the gnawing fear that Jesus would judge him, rebuke him, reject him. Rather, he walked to Jesus out of a courage born of the hope and trust that Jesus would receive him, welcome him … all of him.
Whenever I read of Mary and Martha, a former parishioner comes to mind. Bless her heart, June loved Jesus. But this story stuck in her craw. Got her goat. Rubbed her the wrong way. I can hear June now: "If I'd been there that day, I guarantee you I would have taken up for Martha!"
Here’s the thing: it isn’t called hurry sickness for nothing. It takes its toll on a body. We’ll get to that in a moment. But it sickens the soul, too. Ortberg writes, “Hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life in our day. Hurry can destroy our souls ... For many of us the great danger is not that we will renounce our faith. It is that we will become so distracted and rushed and preoccupied that we will settle for a mediocre version of it. We will just skim our lives instead of actually living them.”
Ash Wednesday Repentance – biblically-speaking and Jesus-speaking – is a good word. The word translated repentance is metanoia, a 180° about face. A turning. Turning to God and God’s ways or turning back to God and God’s ways. Turning to certain others or a returning to them. Turning to your best self and your better angels or returning to them. Turn! Turn! Turn!
I want to say to you this morning that though I rejoice in those moments when our spirits are made to “soar like eagles” and I give thanks for the times we’re infused with a charge of adrenalin that enables us to “run without growing weary,” I’m in awe when I see people facing adversity who are able to keep on keepin’ on with dignity, courage, and grace – “walk without fainting.”
You can’t run away from God’s presence or run out of God’s mercy. Neither Jonah, nor the sailors. Nor the Ninevites. Nor you. Nor me. There is nowhere anybody can go that is beyond God’s presence or God’s mercy. How good is that?
In God’s economy, nothing and no one is wasted. Eli needs Samuel for his vision to be renewed. Samuel needs Eli in order to learn how to listen for God’s voice. It’s a beautiful thing when Eli and Samuel meet. When it happened in Israel long ago, it proved to be the dawning of a golden age. And if Samuel and Eli, Samantha and Ellie, were to meet at Broadway today, who knows what new visions might break forth?
Warned in a dream not to go back the way they came, they went home “by another way” (Matthew 2:12). To put it a different way, they were led on a detour … for their own good. I made a note to self this week: Self, the Bible teaches that sometimes God sends us on a detour for our own good.
And then it happened: the woman’s mother began to move her lips to form the words I was singing. No sound came out, just the whispered shape of the words on her lips: Sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace.
I thought to myself, “What kind of sign is that?” The angels’ announcement is of the birth of a Savior who is Christ the Lord. And what is the sign that accompanies an event of such earth-shaking, world-changing, life-transforming magnitude? (Drum roll, please) … a baby in a layette in a feed trough. I ask you: is that kind of sign proportional to that kind of announcement?
What do you make of this? Paul writes, “Rejoice in the Lord always.” Mind you, he’s in a Roman jail cell. How can he be rejoicing? He lifts his head and hands and rejoices when he ought to be burying his head in his hands and sighing. How can that be? What that says to me is that joy – biblical joy – is apparently not dependent upon external circumstances, but upon an awareness of God’s presence in all circumstances.
Advent is supposed to begin in Exile. Advent doesn’t begin shopping for doorbuster specials on Black Friday or surfing the web for bargains on Cyber Monday or in the garage or attic rummaging for those boxes marked "Christmas." No, Advent rightly begins in Exile because by definition the word Advent means coming. Coming as in the coming of a Savior to people who are in exile. Coming as in “Coming for to carry me home!” Exile is the natural habitat of Advent.
By what criteria will we be judged? “When the Son of Man comes in his glory and all the nations are gathered before him... he shall separate people one from another … by what criteria? When I was in school, I mostly paid attention to what the teacher was saying. But when the teacher said, “This is going to be on the test,” I was all ears. Well, the Bible says one day our lives are going to be graded – judged. So, when the Teacher, the Rabbi from Galilee, tells us what’s going to be on the Test, the criteria by which God will judge us, we’re all ears.
When I was in elementary school, our teacher gave us a piece of paper and told us to write the letters T-H-A-N-K-S-G-I-V-I-N-G vertically down the left margin. Then, next to each letter we were to write something for which we were thankful that began with that letter. It was a neat little exercise in counting your blessings.
Is it any wonder Jesus recognized extravagant generosity when he saw it? God, after all, is the gracious giver par excellence. The tagline of a commercial says “Nobody out-pizzas The Hut.” Well, nobody out-generouses God!
Is gentleness enough to go up against this world’s stockpile of violence? I know Paul tells us to “clothe ourselves with gentleness,” but frankly, wouldn’t a Kevlar vest be better? Or a suit of armor?
A Few Good Words - Gratitude
The themes of A Few Good Words and Just For Fun (below) underscore the theme of the essay in my biweekly newsletter column. Subscribe above. Free, of course.
-
“Let gratitude be the pillow upon which you kneel to say your nightly prayer.”
Maya Angelou
-
“The turkey. The sweet potatoes. The stuffing. The pumpkin pie. Is there anything else we all can agree so vehemently about? I don’t think so.”
Nora Ephron
-
"Give thanks for a little, and you will find a lot."
Hausa proverb
-
“It is not joy that makes us grateful; it is gratitude that makes us joyful.”
David Steindl-Rast
Just for Fun – Thanksgiving
The themes of A Few Good Words and Just For Fun (below) underscore the theme of the essay in my biweekly newsletter column. Subscribe above. Free, of course.