“Christmas Dinner”
Grady would amble in from time to time, help himself to some coffee, and talk to whoever happened to be nearby in an unintelligible gibberish, the product of misfitting teeth or none at all, I could never tell. He also had the rather disconcerting habit of kissing peoples’ hands, or trying to anyway, in a manner that in nowise resembled the chivalrous gesture initiated by a woman of royal class offering her hand to a kneeling knight.
Orientation: Joyful
I’ll never forget Don processing down the center aisle that Third Sunday of Advent as we sang the opening hymn. He walked unsteadily, his face gaunt. As he reached the front of the sanctuary, his back to the congregation, his face toward where I stood on the chancel, the flame of the candlelighter he held before him bathed his jaundiced face in a soft glow. I remember the look on his face – a peace that passes understanding; a radiant, intrepid joy.
Queen of the Pumpkin Pie
One of my nieces made a crown out of a napkin and we concocted a coronation ceremony. I played a make-believe trumpet fanfare as one of my girls walked behind Rose and placed the napkin crown on her head.
I intoned, “We crown thee Her Majesty Rose. Queen of the Pumpkin Pie.” Whereupon not just our table, but the folks within ear and eyeshot of our table applauded.
“Bad Sausage”
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.”
Holy Mosey (with regards to William Least Heat Moon)
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.
Power Outage
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.
“Urban Hobo”
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.”
“The Pursuit of Happiness”
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.
“In the Presence of Genius”
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.
“Postcard from Chautauqua
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.
“The Envy of the Glampground”
Glamping noun “a form of camping involving accommodation and facilities more luxurious than those associated with traditional camping.”
Amanda and Alice: Spiritual Directors
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.
“Mudcat and Me”
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.
Preacher’s Passion
I participated in two water sports a few weeks ago: fly fishing and baptism…
“What I Have Learned This Year”
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.
“Stranded”
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.
“Church Curmudgeons”
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.
“Just a Belief”
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.
“Search and Call”
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.
Truth and Fiction
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.