Leaving a Legacy on the Road

The things you do for yourself are gone when you are gone, but the things you do for others remain as your legacy. Ndukwe Dike Kalu

I like to think of myself as a helpful individual. When someone is stuck in a snowdrift, I will generally help them out. When someone is in hospital, I will make an effort to visit. When someone is struggling in some way, I might make a suggestion – if asked.

I really do try not to give unwanted or unsolicited advice, not because my opinions aren’t good (there have been times they have been very good, in fact), but I have learned that my help or suggestions do not always provide the results desired.

I learned that once again this week when my wife and I stayed a night at the Days Inn in Coeur d’Alene. It had been a rough weekend for us and we were on our way home from Seattle. Normally I would have pushed through another six hours to enjoy the comforts of our own home in our own bed, but I knew we wouldn’t make it – at least not the way we were feeling at that point. It was supper time and we were exhausted, so we called it a day.

We enjoyed a good night’s sleep. Although we did not qualify for any discounts, our motel clerk gave us an unofficial Good Neighbor discount anyway. Gracias amiga!

The next morning we were quite refreshed and were prepared to hit the road after enjoying a meal in the motel breakfast room. I poured a bowl of cereal and discovered their milk dispenser was empty, so I found the morning clerk and told her about it. She quickly went and got a fresh carton of milk and began the process of removing the empty and replacing it with the new.

I watched her snip off the end of the milk tube before she put it into the dispenser and knew immediately she was going to have problems. At that point she became flummoxed and unsure what to do next, so I got up to help her. I pinched the tube next to the carton so she could feed the line through the handle and, together, we got the job done with very little loss of moo-juice.

She thanked me for my help and complimented me on my superior mechanical skills. I peshawed and told her I was just happy to help. Then … catastrophe!

I lifted the handle to dispense milk into my bowl of cereal, and upon releasing it a fountain of milk began to spray up from the handle like Old Faithful! Fortunately I was able to save myself and my bowl of cereal with a hasty retreat to the far side of the room. The clerk swung open the door and pinched the tube with one hand while clipping it with an industrial strength paper clip she had lying handy nearby. Thus ended the eruption of Mount Moosuvius.

Our clerk was very apologetic for the mess and trouble as she cleaned it up, but we assured her it wasn’t a problem – because it wasn’t. It was a Monday morning, and I have no doubt machines hate Mondays as much as the rest of us. We thanked her for her hard work (and for the floor show), finished our meal, checked out, and finished our trip home.

Life happens. The way we handle our part will either make the world a better place or not. I know I have a lot of room for improvement in my life and attitudes, but if I was able to depart, leaving the motel clerk with hope that the rest of her day would be better, then I probably did as much as could be done, despite the results of my help.

After all, there’s no use crying over spilt milk in this, our valley (or anywhere else) – is there?

From Darkness to Charcoal to Life

Video Sermon Here: http://www.dailymotion.com/user/KeithAxberg/1#video=xz0eea

Sermon Outline Below:

Alleluia, Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Have you ever been lost? I mean REALLY lost?

I like the shirt Jim Singer wears ever now and then:

                Support your local Search and Rescue; Get Lost!

I think Peter and the Apostles must have really felt lost.

                Life must have felt very UNREAL to them.

For three years: Walking Daily with the Prince of Peace.

                Listening to his stories.

                Wrestling with the nature of God.

                Looking at the Kingdom of God in new ways.

It all came crashing down in Holy Week.

                The big parade into Jerusalem led to the cleansing of the temple, and then – Catastrophe. Not a little set-back, but complete, total annihilation.

Oh sure, there was Easter Sunday.

                There was the empty tomb, the women prattling on about how they confused the gardener with the risen Lord, and visions of angels, and other such nonsense. Peter and John had gone to investigate, but that confused them more than anything.

                True: Jesus did come to visit them in the upper room on two occasions, but it was evening; they were tired; they’d been hitting the wine a little heavy. The vision told them to be at peace, to “calm down” and assured them that everything would be OK.

                But that was just the grief talking, wasn’t it?

What happens when you are alone with your thoughts?

                You go crazy, don’t you?

                You start thinking about what coulda, shoulda, woulda been.

What’s worse, you’re left alone with your own thoughts; your own demons; your own failings and failures.

There are neighborhoods in most big cities you don’t want to be in at night; parts of Detroit, or Seattle, or Chicago. They’re scary, and they’re dangerous, and they’re filled with strange people for whom life doesn’t seem all that sacred.

That’s the neighborhood I live in when I am alone with my thoughts. I go deep, and I go dark, and I start to lose my footing with great ease.

That’s where Peter, John, and the other apostles were. They had already left Jerusalem. They’d gone 80 miles north, back home to where it all began for most of them, back home to Galilee; to family, friends, and neighbors; back to their old jobs.

But they can’t escape their neighborhood. They can’t escape the muggings going on in here (head). They can’t mend their broken hearts or shattered dreams. So they go back to their dreary lives. Into the darkness; that’s where they went.

Have you ever tried to “go back”? Have you ever tried to recapture your youth? Addicts tell me they’re always “chasing the buzz”. Nothing ever feels as good as the first hit, or the first high. They chase after that which will never deliver. That’s what Peter, James, John, and the rest are doing. Maybe we can find the magic once again – out there on the water; out there amongst the fish.

They tried, but they came back empty. Empty! That’s worse than a slight buzz, or a fuzzy high. That stinks!

But as dawn begins to break, they see a figure a hundred yards away. He’s got a fire going, and … what’s that? He’s got fish! He calls out: Try the other side. Send your nets out there! BAM!!! More than enough!

Do you love me? Take care of one another. Take care of friend and stranger alike. Bring everyone in. If you can’t find them here, cast your nets there. Love means bringing them in; feeding them; clothing them; tending to their needs. Bring them in, and you will see Me in the process.

Alleluia, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia!

Easter 2013

Khristós Anésti! Alithós Anésti! Christ is Risen; the Lord is risen, indeed!

What is Easter all about?  What is this season of bunnies, eggs, peeps, and daffodils?

I would like you to go back with me – to another time in your life and mine. Close your eyes for a moment, and put yourself back into your mother’s womb.         It’s warm, dark, and safe.

 

You neither toil nor labor; You neither plant nor reap; Off in the distance you hear a heart beat that’s not exactly your own, and yet you know there’s a connection. You know neither hunger nor thirst. You’re getting everything you need, although you’re not exactly sure how. You have a feeling there is more to life than what you’ve experienced up to this point, but that’s OK because if you have everything you need, what more could there possibly be?

And then one day, it happens. Everything is turned upside down as your world begins to collapse in on itself. You have no words to describe it, but the only word that comes to mind is: DEATH. “I’m dying!” you scream, but no words come out (because you don’t even know what air is). And then …

POW! There it is. You make your exit and you enter a world you cannot even imagine. No longer bathed in the warmth of your mother’s womb, you enter a world that is 30 degrees colder. No longer embraced and held secure within the body of your mother, your arms flail about. You’re jostled from pillar to post. The back of your brain explodes with pain as your eyes are subjected to light for the very first time; your ears begin to drain and you hear the angels around you making strange noises – you hear the clatter of instruments; the bleeps and blips of the monitors; your skin is rubbed raw with something called “cloth”.

You don’t know it yet, but you haven’t died. You have simply transitioned from the first heaven to the second heaven. Somewhere along the way you were, to use the old English word, “quickened” – made alive. The day will come when you won’t remember even a moment of the first heaven or the first earth, but you will come to learn of the second heaven and the second earth.

Where you appreciate the great benefits of the first heaven and the first earth – worlds without worry; worlds where everything you needed was passed along just by the very nature of that world into which you were conceived; you have only just now begun to discover a new world, where you can actively participate in a community called “family” – a community where you have neighbors, and friends – people who care, and people who don’t. 

The day will come where the great benefits of this second heaven and second earth will begin to fade away. Your ears will no longer hear as clearly; your eyes will no longer see as sharply; your mind will start to lose some of its Velcro; your body will begin to give way to the diseases of old age.

But if you listen carefully, you may hear another muffled heartbeat in the distance. This (church) is our stethoscope. If you watch closely, you may see glimpses of yet another heaven and another earth. This (church) is our telescope. We make our confession, and the toxicity of our lives are taken away by the umbilicus (that is this church). We eat the bread and drink the wine and are nourished through the umbilicus (that is this church).

What we have chosen to call “death” in this life is not death – not for us. We are children of yet another mother; a mother who has nourished us; a mother who has kept us warm, safe, and secure; a mother who, in the fullness of time, will deliver us into yet another heaven – another earth.

“Why do you look for the living among the dead?” asked the angel. “He is not here; he is risen – just as he said.”

What is Easter all about?  What is this season of bunnies, eggs, peeps, and daffodils? It’s not about that at all, is it? This season of Easter – and believe me, it is a season, not a day – this season of Easter is about three things:

1. Easter is not just about Jesus; it is about you. He has already claimed his new life; now is your opportunity to claim yours. The Bible tells us “Today is the day of salvation.” We don’t have to wait. Easter is God’s gift, waiting for you, right here, right now, in this puddle of gravy we call “life.” You don’t even have to call a toll-free number to claim your prize. It s enough to simply say, "Thank you, Lord."

2. Easter is not just about death; it is about life, and not just life after death–that’s the easy part–but real life before death, right now. Just as our life in the womb was spent preparing for our entry into this world, so life in this world is to be spent preparing for the world to come. We don’t earn our salvation by doing good works; we do our good works because our salvation has freed us to live in the fullness of God’s presence. It is enough to simply say, "Thank you, Lord. And …"

3. Easter is not just about the past, way back then and long ago; it is all about the future. Literally, I say to you, your best days are ahead of you. “Old things have passed away; behold, all things are become new.” Whatever is holding you back, the stone has been rolled away so that you can get out and so that God can get in. It is enough to simply say, "Thank you, Lord."

That is what Easter is all about.

Khristós Anésti! Alithós Anésti! Christ is Risen; the Lord is risen, indeed!

The Story of the Prodigal Father

One of my favorite passages in the Bible is the so-called story of the Prodigal Son. I say "so-called" because it really isn't about the son (who isn't prodigal, but quite the wastrel), but about his father's great love and capacity to not just receive his son back, but to do so with real flair!

That's a wonderful picture of the God we preach. It isn't about our capacity to repent nearly as much as it is about a God who just can't wait for us to come home and fill him in on what's been happening.

You can find the sermon here (it starts about 5 minutes in, as the gospel reading and sermon hymn take about 5 minutes):

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xy8i0m_lent-4c-prodigal-vid00001_lifestyle#.UUPGLldvDGM

Finding Sweet Water in the Valley

O God, you are my God; eagerly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you … as in a barren dry land where there is no water. Psalm 63:1

I like to think of myself as a fairly self-reliant person. I don’t mind asking for help if I need it, but I really do try to stay out of situations where I might have to look for assistance.

A few weeks back while going to church, my wife and I saw two cars pass each other at an icy corner where they bumped, sending one off the road and down the narrow, steep shoulder. Both drivers were going ever so slowly and yet the ice, momentum, and nudge was all it took to wreak havoc. There were no injuries and (amazingly) there was no damage to either vehicle. Everyone stopped and made sure no one was hurt, and while two of us could not get the ditched car back onto the road, several other Samaritans stopped, joined us in the effort, and working together we succeeded.

One of the blessings we experience here in Montana is the good cheer with which most people face a problem. In many of the more populous areas of the country, people are so plentiful that many just assume that when there’s an accident someone else will stop to help and, of course, they always have 911 to fall back on. Here, despite being a self-reliant sort of people, when a neighbor is in trouble, everyone “comes a running”.

Sometimes trouble is obvious. Seeing a car in the ditch or a house on fire is kind of hard to miss if one is paying the least bit of attention.

Harder to see, though, is a thirsty soul.

When people are thirsty, they generally go find something to drink – and why not? We live in a land of abundance. Even the poorest of the poor can find a glass of water when they’re thirsty. I have plenty of options from which to choose at home: juice, milk, and assorted hot and cold beverages are right at hand.

If I have a problem, it is in having an abundance of choices. The question is less one of thirst than of figuring out what I’m in a mood for, and therein is the rub. When I’m not thirsty, anything will do, and when anything will do, nothing will truly satisfy me. When that happens, I’m not in need, but in want – and that’s a bad place for me to be.

When my appetite drifts, it always drifts toward things that really aren’t all that good for me – foods high in salt, sugar, or starches. For some reason, I seldom drift toward carrots, celery, or foods low in calories. I would like to think snack-foods have some sort of gravitational pull on my body, but in reality I know it is neither the goodies nor is it the body that is at fault. No, it is the space between my ears where one will find the Milky Way swirling around in all its sweet chocolaty goodness.

When that happens, I find I need to stop for a minute and actually engage in – oh, what is that word? Oh yes, I need to stop and actually engage in thinking. I need to stop and ask myself what I “need”, rather than what I “want”.

If I do that, I find my needs are far more manageable. I need air (check); I need water (check); I need shelter (check); I need food – something with nutritional value (oh, OK, check).

What else do people need, then?

Well, I think we need to know God cares, and when people jump out of their cars on a wintry day to lend a hand pulling us up or pushing us over to safety, I think, in our many acts of kindness – both big and small – we become a living water that quenches the thirst of many parched souls. We become the means of God’s grace, and that is a source of great comfort and satisfaction for many.

That’s a beautiful, refreshing, (and quite non-fattening) thing in this, our world – and oh so sweet to a thirsty soul.

Do You Believe in Miracles?

Lent 3C

Do you believe in miracles? There are many little things that happen day to day that we may call coincidental or mundane, and yet they bear witness to God's presence in our lives, if we would just recognize them for what they are. There is no reason a miracle can't describe an ordinary event, for the real miracle isn't the event, but the God who walks among us and within us - the God who dares to believe in us!

Check it out: www.dailymotion.com/video/xxxg2e_lent-4c-miracles_lifestyle#.UTPRh1furGM

Prayer Percolating in the Valley

When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think they will be heard because of their many words. Matthew 6:7

I am a morning person. I like the stillness and quiet of the morning. I like listening to the coffee maker gurgle and pop as it heats the water, pumps it up to the lid to fall quietly and gently into the basket of grounds through which it will make its way back into the carafe from which it came – the circle of life.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air is particularly delightful, providing a sense of peace and contentment as the day begins to unfold. I do not break the spell with news and commentary – or music and entertainment – from radio or television. Rather, I listen to the sounds of the world around me.

Oh sure, many of those sounds are artificial or manufactured. There is the steady rhythm of the clock above the fireplace ticking and tocking; there is the hum of the refrigerator cycling on and off, dropping off a load of ice every now and then; there is the fan whirring away from the kick-board heater in the kitchen; but aside from those ambient noises within the home, all is quiet.

It is a time for centering prayer; spending time alone – with God.

I find that many people are uncomfortable with silence. When we have periods of silence in church there is often an uneasy rustling that rises up from the pews as folks are anxious to get on with the service. Surely, they must think, if we’re not doing something, we must not be doing anything – and that certainly runs against the grain of the perpetual motion machine that is our culture.

But sitting, standing, or walking quietly is not the same as doing nothing. Being at peace while walking through the woods or skiing down a mountain trail is hardly “doing nothing.” Certainly it takes some concerted effort to move along without stumbling over roots and rocks or without accidentally skiing off a cliff, but in the process, one can find him or herself coming into harmony with the activity, the process, and the whole universe. When that happens, I think one is engaged in communion with God. That, I believe, is the essence of prayer.

I am not fond of doing a lot of talking when I pray. There are times I do converse with God about the people and situations I am facing in life, and that takes a bit of organization and time, of course. But mostly, my desire is to simply be in the presence of the Almighty, and to know that is enough.

Trying to line one’s life up with God’s isn’t easy and, ultimately, isn’t even really possible. There is a great gulf fixed between us that is far too great to transit even just a smidge, and yet that God delights to spend any time with any of us is a miracle of grace beyond my comprehending, and so I don’t try to understand it; I just try to accept and enjoy it the way I would enjoy a grand symphony – with eyes closed, personally lost in the reverie of the moment.

Like a scoop of freshly ground coffee, I am content to sit in the basket – basket case that I often am – and let the Spirit of the Most High flow in, through, and around me. If I am going to be in hot water (as I sometimes am), then it is my expectation that it will at least result in filling the air with a sweet aroma. My hope, prayer, and desire is for the essence of my life to rise to the heavens above and tickle with pleasure the nose of God.

At least that’s some of what’s percolating in my mind this week as I share some of the grounds of my faith with all of you here in this, our valley.