The Kingdom of God is a Tool Box

“Many things get done in the world because someone had a vision of something better.” Herbert O’Driscoll

I love learning. I never tire of reading. When something breaks at home, I delight in trying to figure out what’s wrong so that I can fix it or, if I’m lucky, it’s broken beyond repair and I get to replace it with something new and improved. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy pinching pennies until Lincoln cries, “Uncle,” but it doesn’t bother me to get something that, most generally, works better than what broke.

I’ll confess I am sometimes embarrassed by how little I know about something, or about how long it took me to discover what someone else (or everyone else) has presumably known from the git-go. For instance, I was always flummoxed by how terribly my drill functioned as a screwdriver. I mean, I have various bits for it, and it seems to do fine for the most part, but then it barumphs [sic] and ruins the head of a screw. I never knew why until Earl, my carpenter friend in Ennis explained something I’d not realized: a drill is designed for drilling; what I need to use is an impact driver. The two tools may look similar, but each serves a different function; each is designed to handle different situations.

In the past I would have been too embarrassed to admit this intellectual short-coming. I would have counted it as a character defect. I’m a guy. Guys are supposed to know things about cars and tools, carpentry, sports, and stuff like that. I’d lived much of my life by Mark Twain’s maxim: Better to keep one’s mouth closed and thought a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.

I am beginning to think that shame is the leading cause of all the world’s woes. When children grow up and are ridiculed for not knowing stuff, they often learn to shut down and stop asking questions. Children have a reputation for being innocents, but often they are cruel, intolerant bullies. Many of the people I have known and counseled continue to live under a cloud of childhood events and traumas. It’s no wonder many grow up to be intolerant, fearful, and shame-filled souls in need of healing, safety, and security.

Jesus spent most of his time teaching and healing. He called his vision “the kingdom of God.” He didn’t define it as much as he described it with stories and images almost anyone can relate to. I may not be a farmer, but I understand the concept of things starting off small (like seeds) and growing into something big (like a shade-tree or a jar of French’s Mustard). I may not be a fisherman, but I understand the importance of repairing a net so that it will catch fish. 

Having had a child run away from home, I understand the relief and joy of having that child come home. Having lost a cherished gift and finding it again in a puddle of melted snow, I understand the joy and relief of finding that which was lost. Having had a terrible argument with someone I love, and the fear of losing them forever, and having that relationship restored by forgiving them (and being forgiven), and amending uncharitable attitudes or deeds, I have seen how forgiveness can lead to peace and reconciliation.

None of us is perfect, of course; only God is perfect. I still lose things. I’m still hurt by unkind remarks or the neglect of those who ought to know better. But this talk of the kingdom of God – this vision – allows me to see the world differently. It allows me to plead ignorance so that others can help me understand what I’m missing or neglecting. It opens my eyes to the possibility that God may have other ways of dealing with matters. 

The kingdom of God is a tool box into which we add tools as God provides them. We need only know not every tool fits every circumstance; we need only be humble enough to ask others what might help here in this, our valley. To mend a life, you see, is to amend life.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

North to Alaska

… there go the ships, and Leviathan that you formed to sport with. Psalm 104

My better half and I just returned from the sea. We set sail earlier this month to check out Alaska’s Inside Passage. It’s a trip we’d wanted to take for (literally) decades, but could never put enough scratch or time together simultaneously to make it happen. It seemed like every “milestone” (like 10th, 25th, or 40th anniversary) was accompanied by some ship-wrecking family or parish emergency that took precedence. Life happens.

We’d reached the end of summer and I decided it was time to give mother nature and the fates the slip, so I booked the Alaskan adventure when they weren’t looking, and it worked!

I won’t bore you by detailing the trip. If there’s anything worse than sitting through someone else’s home movies, it’s sitting through those home movies without the pictures, slides, or super-8s (and accompanying narration). I will say that we had shockingly good weather considering the Alaskan coast sees rain 300 days of the year (we had only two wet days), and relatively calm seas (only two days of the nine where we pushed through eighteen foot swells and felt a bit like we’d signed onto a nautical version of rodeo bull-riding). 

Before we left, a friend asked what part of the trip I was most looking forward to, and I confessed, “Getting home.” I am a home-body. I know that, and my answer was true. But it was true only for the reason I wasn’t sure what to expect on our voyage. As a card-carrying pessimist, I prefer to let an adventure unfold and surprise me with something good happening, than to anticipate something wonderful and then be disappointed with a lesser reality.

We took in a few of the standard tourist excursions, like the White Pass train ride out of Skagway, a hike to the Mendenhall Glacier, followed by a whale watching expedition out of Juneau. We caught crabs in Ketchikan and could almost reach out and touch the Johns Hopkins Glacier as it calved a small berg into Glacier Bay. Each excursion was delightful in its own way, but none was what I would term memorable. I’m sure I will remember them, of course, the way one remembers bits and pieces of life’s experiences. But “memorable” as in life-altering? No.

I realize that Tourism is an important industry; I don’t intend to besmirch it. What I enjoyed most was being immersed in nature whilst disconnected from the world. We could pay for internet and cellular service if we wanted it, but my goal was to forego all of that. What good is it to get away if one doesn’t actually get away? I did check text messages and send location updates to friends and family when I had cell service in several ports of call, but beyond that, I let the world spin on (or off) without me.

It was being out in the natural world I enjoyed most. It was handling a live Dungeness crab on a small boat (not the Deadliest Catch variety - just a coastal runabout). It was spending time in the bays and inlets watching whales clear their spouts upon surfacing, dolphins porpoising past the boat, harbor seals and sea lions sunning themselves on harbor buoys or floating lazily about just off-shore, each ignoring their hominid cousins bobbing about for their own look-sees and amusement. 

Sadly, I did not see any bears on this journey. I was in a tour group that did see a momma Brown bear and her cub on the road on Chichagof Island, but folks crowded the bus’s windshield and blocked the view from everyone else. I did see the bear via several cell-phone view screens, but alas, not directly. That’s OK, though. I can bear the disappointment.

Our final stop before returning to Seattle was shortened due to weather, so that was a bit of a let-down. Still, I don’t think Gilligan and pals could have hosted a couple thousand additional guests to house and feed, so our captain made the right decision to steer clear of the autumnal storms that threatened us. I can live with that, too, here in this, our valley. It’s good to be home.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Snails, toys, and profiteers

“Jesus said, ‘You give them something to eat.’ They answered him, ‘How?’” Luke 9:13ff

The rains fell overnight. I was up early, as is my custom, and began rolling the trash bins out to the curb for morning pickup. As I steered them down the driveway, I made every effort to avoid rolling over the fleet of snails that were making tracks across the pavement from one side to the other. Most were headed north, and I couldn’t blame them. The grass is definitely greener there, especially as there isn’t any grass along the south side. There are weeds (which I presume snails would find most delightful), but it seemed they had tired of their diet of quack-grass and horsetails.

I found myself wondering how the critters knew to cross the great divide. Did they point their weird little eye-stalks in the direction of our maple tree and assume life would be better across the great beyond? Or did they smell the rot of falling leaves beneath that grand old tree and decide the time for action was now. No doubt snails and slugs have their own version of “the one who hesitates is lost,” and when one moves with the speed and alacrity of a gastropod, getting an early start makes sense. I presume they suffer less road rash when the pavement is wet, too.

I don’t know what motivates a slug, snail, or worm. No doubt food is involved in that equation, by which I confess a certain sense of brotherhood. I can get around pretty good, but there’s nothing like the smell of fresh-baked cookies to stop me dead in my tracks. Like a snail, my gut and feet are of one mind, one soul. I can try claiming to be “above” such things (as the sight of a salad does not appeal to me the way it does my slimy brethren), but that would not be exactly true. The grass is always greener across the road, but for me, that lawn will always come in the form of a steak or burger. Cows eat salads so I don’t have to!

Ground level, snails-eye view of our maple tree

Food. I miss the fun of food. You know what I mean; kids’ meals. 

I still buy the same cereals I ate as a child, but they were much more fun back then. We used to get little treats in specially marked boxes, as if sugar itself wasn’t “treat” enough. Today’s cartons may have a five word crossword puzzle printed on the back, or a few dad jokes to read while munching away on the captain’s crunch or fruit-flavored rice. But seldom are consumers treated to some bit of plastic chintz that says, “We love you.”

My all-time favorite toy was a spectacular submarine, complete with working torpedoes and a ship that actually blew up if struck! No digital game on earth today packs the same punch. It was fun putting the torpedoes into their spring-loaded ports and rigging up the ship with its pressure-plate (which would blow the superstructure off the ship when it was struck by the projectile or a carelessly misplaced thumb). I was a crack shot, I’ll tell you. 

They don’t make or include toys like that any more. 

A toy was a manufacturer’s way of saying, “here’s a little something for you, for no better reason than this: you’re here. You exist. You matter. Yes, your parents bought the product, but this is for you and for your enjoyment.”

Profiteers are too interested in feathering their corporate bank accounts these days. It’s hard for them to appreciate the smile of a child digging into a box of oats, seeking their treasure, their fortune. For some, that bit of plastic could be the only “win” they’d have that day. But some CEO making seven figures will never see or care about that smile, that moment of ecstacy. They see a cheap toy and say, “Let’s save a penny.” They never see the smile. It’s their loss.

I suspect snails and slugs smile when they reach their destination and start munching on their foliage du jour. It’s God’s treat. God sees their smiles, even if we can’t. God can. Smile: You’re on candid fescue here in this, our valley. God’s treat, meant especially for you.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

When a Red Light Isn't

“Search for the Lord, and his strength; continually seek his face.” Psalm 105:4

We live in a world of explorers. I like to think I’ve got a pretty good handle on spelling and grammar, yet I find those skills put more and more to the test. Who among us hasn’t found text messages changed by the cell phone’s auto-correct or spell-check features? There are a lot of words in church-life that just aren’t recognized by the Great Brain in the Clouds, so I find myself miffed at times when the computer doesn’t like what I have to say, or the way I’m saying it.

“Hey,” I yell at the infernal clump of electronic detritus, “you’re not the boss of me!”

The computer just hums and chortles electronically; it doesn’t care how long it takes for me to settle down. The computer’s main component is called the mother board for a reason; she IS the boss of me!

For the most part, we get along just fine. I browse the net for news and sports; I check out a few social media sites to see what my friends and family are having for breakfast, where they’re going, what they’re doing, or who they’re doing it with. When I’m curious about something, I go to a search engine and find information that may or may not be correct. I remember Abraham Lincoln’s sage warning: “Just because you see a quote on the internet with my photo doesn’t mean I actually said it.” 

That’s good to know. I know a college professor who once started each class-year with a quote from the Buddha written across the top of her blackboard until one day at the start of a fresh semester one of her students pointed out that the Buddha had never said that. She looked it up online and found it among many quotes falsely attributed to the Buddha on a website dedicated to identifying fake Buddha quotes. I recalled something another friend of mine said: “Who fact-checks the fact-checkers?”

Some things we just have to take on faith, yet it’s good to keep an open mind. I think it was comedian Dennis Miller who used to close his commentaries with, “That’s just my opinion; I could be wrong.” Modesty requires us all to adopt that perspective (but I could be wrong). 

I have found it helpful to keep an open mind. How else will new information get in to be processed? I’ll admit I don’t understand people who are so cock-sure of themselves that they can’t admit to the possibility of being wrong.

I was a cop, brand new on the force. I was sitting at a light in Spokane when my light turned green. Just before I could start up, a fellow crossed in front of me. It was a clear-as-day red light violation, so I pulled him over and wrote him a citation. He was convinced the light was yellow, but I knew better. He took his ticket to court and I testified to the facts, plain and simple. 

But then the judge asked me a question for clarification. “Did you see his light? Did you see if it was red?” Now, I could have lied and said, “Yes.” But I told him the truth. “My light was green, so I knew his light had to be red.” Well, I didn’t actually see him run a red light; I’d drawn a conclusion based on what I’d seen, added to common sense, but I didn’t see him “run” a red light, as a matter of “fact.” 

“Not guilty,” declared the judge.

I learned. I became more careful in my observations. Traffic signals were designed so one could (back in those days) see (and confirm) the shade of cross-traffic lights. I hated losing my very first court case, but became a better traffic officer for it. 

That incident (and many since) have helped shape my approach to the world. I’ve learned to separate fact from assumptions. I’ve learned to step outside my bubble, to be more observant before drawing conclusions. I’ve learned to listen carefully, to engage in critical thinking so as not to be fooled or taken advantage of. I can have my well-formed opinion about things, but I could also be wrong. That’s OK here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

The Great Value of the "Sinner"

 Proper 18 – VALUE

Sermon for St. Paul’s (Mount Vernon, WA) 09/10/2023

Fr. Keith Axberg, Ret.

Ezekiel 33:7-11 – Our sins weigh against us; how can we live?

Psalm 119:33-40 – Incline my heart to your decrees

Romans 13:8-14 – Love is the fulfilling of Torah

Matthew 18:15-20 – Where 2 or 3 are gathered, I’m there

Give ear O heavens, and I will speak; let the earth hear the words of my mouth! For I will proclaim the Name of the Lord and ascribe greatness to our God.

A story is told of a man washed overboard from a ship at sea. He was stranded on a desert isle. A few weeks later he saw another ship sailing past the island, lit a signal fire and the passing ship stopped. The captain sent a rescue party ashore and the castaway, as you might imagine, was overjoyed to be seen and rescued. The first officer noticed the man had built several huts there on the beach and asked about them.

“Oh, that’s my home. When I landed, I had no idea how long I’d be here, and so I took vines and branches and built myself some shelter. Then I built another hut to store whatever food I could find. This hut over there is my church. That’s where I went to read the Bible and pray.”

The first officer noticed one other hut and said, “And what’s that?”

The castaway said, “That was my first church, but I didn’t care for the leadership, so I left.”

Since the early days of Adam and Eve disobeying God, playing the blame game, and getting kicked out of paradise, we human beings have had a rough time of it getting our act together. 

The rules are pretty simple: Love God; love your neighbor; heck, love yourself, too!

But it’s always a fight. It’s always a struggle. Like Cain, we’re scared to death God loves “them” more than us, so rather than work on improving what we can, we simply get rid of the competition. We let the EGO get the better of us.

In Twelve Step programs, they say that EGO means to Edge God Out (E. G. O.)

That’s really what sin is. It’s edging God out. It’s like the fellow who shoves his way to the front of the line without so much as an , “Excuse me,” or “By your leave.” Somehow they think their time or their needs are more important than yours, so they throw elbows or shoulders.

Most of the time I let grace prevail, even though I know that when you give someone an inch they’ll take a mile and at some point you’ll have to draw a line. What we do, though, is we keep moving that line because we’re too tired to deal with it. We may show grace on the outside, while on the inside we’re still Caining Abel, if you catch my drift.

It’s not good to let this stuff eat at you. Ezekiel says, “If your neighbor is engaged in wickedness, you need to call them out on it. If you do and they change, all well and good. And if they don’t? That’s on them. But if you see bad stuff happening and ignore it, that’s on you!”

The problem, of course, is that we can become hypersensitive to right and wrong, or good and evil. We can become hypervigilant so that everything is under scrutiny. 

Torah says, “You shall do no labor on the Sabbath – it’s a day of rest, set aside for you and God to spend time together.”

That makes sense. But then you get the rules about the rules. A woman shall not keep a needle in her apron because she might forget it’s the Sabbath and try mending her husband’s shirt.” or something like that. 

The goal, of course, is to focus on our relationship with God; to be “holy” because God is holy; to be gracious, because God is gracious; to be loving, because God is loving.

The goal is to cultivate our relationship with God and with one another, and that’s a good thing. But we’re also human, and while being human means to be a reflection of the Divine, it also means we’re angels with dirty faces, like Adam and Eve. 

We’re “sinners,” which means we fall short of where God wants us to be. That doesn’t mean we’re wicked, or evil, or dirty rotten scoundrels (although some of you may be – who am I to judge?). But we fall short. 

We find ourselves at the checkout counter and, if you’re like me, when I have my 2 or 3 items to buy and go to the “15 or fewer items” lane, I COUNT every item the people in front of me have. I can’t help it. I like numbers. I like rules. I love that superior feeling you get when you see someone with 16 items. I don’t say anything, of course, because I’m a nice guy. BUT I KNOW WHO THEY ARE, AND I KNOW WHAT THEY’VE DONE! Eats away

One of the things our faith calls us to is self-reflection. Jesus never says it’s OK to sin. As humans, we’re going to sin. That’s a plain fact of life. We’re going to fall short. We’re going to let God down; we’re going to let our neighbor down; we’re going to let ourselves down, as well. 

In the Gospel today, Jesus tells us what to do when our neighbor lets us down, when they sin against us, when they do us injury.

He says, “When that happens, go to them. Tell them. Work things out if you can.”

That’s all well and good, especially if you’re on the receiving end of that grievance. Basically, Jesus says, “Don’t go whining about it to your friends and neighbors. Talk to your friend about the problem.” 

You can’t solve the problem if you go gossiping about people who offend you, or let you down. Too often people don’t really want to solve the problem. They want allies to stand with them as they bully their neighbors into submission.

So Jesus says, rather than take a little problem and blow it all out of proportion, deal with it directly. But be careful. You’re not God. I’m not God. Your neighbor’s not God. So we need to tread gently. We could be wrong. The issue could be a misunderstanding. 

Since we are all sinners, since each of us falls short, it’s important to look at today’s lesson and realize that there are times I will be the offender (not just the offended); that I will be the one who falls short; that I will be the one who lets someone else down. So I need to be humble enough to listen when someone speaks. 

A woman finds herself fighting with her boss, and her co-workers, and her family members, and her neighbors, and her fellow church-goers, she may have to pause a moment and ask, “Is the world really that full of jerks, or is there some other common denominator at work here creating such a ruckus?”

St. Paul reminds us in his letter to the Romans that we “owe one another nothing except to love one another, for those who love have fulfilled Torah.”

Note: Torah doesn’t just mean the Law of Moses. Torah is the story of God calling us out of slavery (whether to Egypt or Sin), and bringing us home (what we call “salvation”). So by loving, we’re living into who we are as the people of God – people who have been and are being delivered from our transgressions.

That’s our mission. That’s at the heart of the Gospel lesson today: God calling us to come closer, to come up higher, to climb into God’s lap. Even if we’re pitching a screaming fit, God invites us to come where God can hold us, and hug us, and quiet us down so that, if we listen closely, we can even hear God’s own heartbeat in that silence. “Where you crawl together, I am there.”

That is the mission of the Church. If you turn into your prayer book to page 855, you’ll see in the Catechism: 

Q. What is the mission of the Church?

A. The mission of the Church is to restore all people to

unity with God and each other in Christ.

   

Q. How does the Church pursue its mission?

A. The Church pursues its mission as it prays and

worships, proclaims the Gospel, and promotes justice,

peace, and love.

   

Q. Through whom does the Church carry out its mission?

A. The church carries out its mission through the ministry

of all its members.

Jesus reminds us in the Gospel that in the life of the church, there will always be problems. There will always be issues where we struggle to know the right thing to do. Not everything is a Gospel issue to me, but it could be to you. So Jesus says, “Go; sit; listen; become one again.”

Some years ago Barb and I were living in Spokane; we got a call from my brother in law; my sister (Tina) worked at a butcher shop in Wilbur (a small town about an hour west of Spokane out on highway 2) and while cleaning the deli-meat slicer, she’d cut her finger off. She was rushed to Holy Family Hospital in Spokane, and after several hours, surgeons were able to reattach her finger - reconnecting blood vessels and nerve fibers, and muscles. Whatever they did, it worked. In time, her finger healed. It was a little shorter. It wasn’t quite as flexible as it had been. But the finger lived, because it was once again made part of the body.

It was literally: RE-MEMBERED. 

That, to me, has always been an iconic image of what Jesus is talking about in the Gospel today. It’s not so much about Church Order or Problem Solving.

It’s about valuing one another so much that our desire is NOT to lose one another, NOT to cut one another off, but to recover one another in the Name of Christ Jesus, our Lord. When we break Bread and elevate the Cup, we remember what Jesus told us to do: Do THIS in RE-MEMBRANCE of me. He’s not talking about memorizing the service or the prayer book or the bible, or recalling the institution of the Eucharist. 

He’s talking about placing your life and the life of your neighbor in the hands of the Great Surgeon, who skillfully puts us back together, even when we’ve fallen apart. Each of us is a valued member of the Body of Christ. AMEN

Before I Croak

“Sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things.” Psalm 98:1

I was out watering my plants the other day. Although the Pacific Northwest has a reputation for being damp and rainy, the fact is we don’t receive nearly as much rain around here as folks think, and this summer, in particular, has been one of the drier summers on record. Consequently, we head out every couple of days to see to it that the greenery stays that way.

I keep telling my better half that we ought to put in drought-resistant plants, but she has no desire to see silk or plastic flowers in the yard, so I guess we’ll have to settle for live botanical specimens – the real deal, as she calls them. 

I don’t mind watering, to be honest. It is one of those tasks that doesn’t require a lot of brain-power, and there is something meditative about dragging a hose around the yard from the spigot to our botanical family and seeing to it that each plant or bush receives what it needs. Someday we may invest in an automatic sprinkling system, but where’s the fun in that? It’s nice moving about the grounds, talking to the plants and critters. On top of that, they never talk back. Now THAT’s a real blessing!

Despite our relatively urban setting, we do have some wildlife popping in from time to time. A week ago I was getting my morning coffee. It was still relatively dark; I looked out the kitchen window and observed a couple of raccoons wandering around the backyard looking for incredible edibles. I’m no Dr. Dolittle, so I made no effort to converse with them. I didn’t want to frighten them away. I just sipped my coffee and watched them wander from plant to bush to stump doing their particular form of grocery shopping. 

It’s funny how we think. I find myself writing about the wildlife popping into “our” space, as if it’s they that don’t belong. This house and neighborhood have only been here the past three or four decades. The “wildlife” have been here for hundreds of thousands of years. Which of us is the one that “doesn’t belong,” eh?

How else are we to think, though? I suspect raccoons see the world through their own lenses, as do the deer, blue jays, squirrels, and every creature great and small. I have one bush out back that is home to at least one smallish frog. It does NOT like it when I water his or her home. It leaps out from under the leaves, into the open (where I’m sure it does not want to be), and does a frantic little froggy pirouette to see where it can go to either get out of the artificial rain or back under cover. It’s not my intention to disturb its abode, but it doesn’t care what my intentions are. I’m sure, in fact, it wishes I would just croak.

I find nature fascinating. Aside from the odd class here and there in school (back when the earth was still cooling), I wasn’t too much into biology or the other earth sciences, but I am now. I guess that means I am reaching a point in life where some may say, “he’s older than dirt,” and I hear it not as a put-down, but as a scientific fact. The earth and I are related – my own theory of relativity (Move over, Einstein!).

I don’t know if anyone else thinks about such things, but I do. I’ll admit I don’t want mice, ants, or spiders invading my indoor spaces, but I am striving to be more of a friend than a pest when spending time outdoors. My hope is that, when I wander about the great out-of-doors, all of God’s creatures will sing to the Lord a new song, “for he has done marvelous things.” I hope they’ll acknowledge the effort I am making to be kind and gentle. 

When I stand before my Redeemer, it would be sweet to hear even the frogs sing, “He had a good heart. We toad [sic] him to keep the hose on a gentle setting, and he did.” At least that’s my hope here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

My fascination with fasteners

“The LORD will make good his purpose for me; O LORD, your love endures forever.” Psalm 138:9

I don’t know why I try to be a DIY guy at home. My skill, my charism, if I’ve got one, is putting words together, not wood. I should know better than to try, and yet what is one to do in retirement but try to develop skills that God, in God’s infinite wisdom, gave to others but (apparently) not to me? I work for a Jewish carpenter, but even the Great Healer knows better than to put power tools into my hands.

That’s OK. I’ve got time to kill and decent medical insurance, so why farm out work that doesn’t require the strength of Samson (or his hair)? I don’t mind hiring folks to do big jobs that really are beyond my capacity to do them, but for little things, I like the challenge. I know I haven’t got the hands-on experience of real carpenters or people in the trades, but I’ve got YouTube. What could go wrong?

Case in point this week was my goal to build a box step for the front of our shed. Its entry is about a foot above ground level; several years ago I’d set up a temporary platform out of landscaping timbers and concrete pavers. They worked just fine, but looked like something Laurel and Hardy (or the original MacGuyver) would have installed. I wanted to build something more Taj Mahal than Slip ‘n Slide. What could be simpler than framing a box and topping it with cedar deck-boards?

I zipped down to the local big box store, acquired the lumber I would need, and “fasteners.” I guess they don’t call them screws any more as people got tired of screwing up their projects (and Lord knows I’ve got a screw loose – or two). So now they’re called fasteners, which I find fascinating.

I decided against using nails as I have seen what happens when I use a hammer, and it ain’t a pretty sight. I have good medical insurance, but my agent tells me the policy doesn’t cover self-inflicted blunt force trauma. Besides, I haven’t got enough years left in me for the time it would take me to actually nail a box together. So, “Screw it,” I said to myself, and for once I listened.

By the end of a week, I had cut all my lumber to length, then assembled, disassembled, and reassembled my box base and set it in place. Sadly, I haven’t figured how to attach it to the shed yet, but I’m working on it. It’s a work in progress and I’m agile enough to step over the box and into the shed in the interim.

Life is a work in progress. I know my strengths and limitations and don’t mind acknowledging what I’m good at and what I’m not. I think people are sometimes too ashamed to admit they’re not good at something, as if their worth is based upon their skills (or lack thereof). It has taken me a long time to actually believe what I have been preaching about all my life – that God is love, and that God embraces each and every person.

I have wasted a lot of time suspecting that there are some people far too bad to deserve God’s love, but then one day it dawned on me that if there are exceptions, then why wouldn’t that apply to me, as well? If there are exceptions, then none of us is safe from God’s wrath. All of us have failed to live up to our billing as God’s children, yet God has set a place for each of us at God’s table, in God’s house. Jesus was a carpenter, the son of a carpenter. He knows a thing or two about building tables because he no doubt actually built a table or two.

I know what needs to be done to finish the step to my shed. I really do. It’s no mystery. It’s a project. Just like life is a project. My hope is that, at the end, God will look to see what I’ve become and say, “You nailed it!” That’s my hope for each of you, too, in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)