Prayer as a way of life?

Years ago I saw a cartoon... one of those "church chuckles" things.  It showed a pastor in his study at church, kneeling by a sofa, obviously in prayer.  The church secretary walks in, sees the pastor, and says, "Oh, good.  You're not busy."

There are times for me that praying comes as naturally as my breathing... and that's my goal.  There are other times - okay, that's most of the time! - when prayer is not the first, natural, automatic, primary, consistent part of how I spend my day.  St. Paul tells us to "pray always."  I'm sure he doesn't mean that we spend every moment with our eyes closed, head bowed, and hands clasped.  After all, that's sure not how HE spent his days!  What I believe he meant is that we live every moment in communion with God... in contact... in relationship... conscious of the Lord's presence within us, around us, and within others.  And that, after all, is the essence of what prayer is and does, don't you think?

During Lent one year in the last congregation I served as pastor, we decided to offer a service of Morning Prayer every day at 9:00 a.m. in the Chapel at the church.  A handful of people came most days during Lent.  When Lent was over, they asked, "Do we have to stop now?"  I was stunned... ecstatically so!  I don't think I ever had someone come up to me and ask to keep praying together!  So, we decided to keep it going.  Now, after a few months, it generally was only one ruling elder who would meet me in the Chapel at 9:00 a.m. for Morning Prayer, but we did that for several years.  I miss that time.  I miss having someone to pray with.  More than that, though, I miss the spiritual discipline of being accountable to someone else for at least one time each day when I spend moments in prayer, silence, and Scripture reading.  I want to find that structure again.

How about you?  How is prayer for you?  Do you have someone with whom you pray?  Do you have a set time or structure or format for prayer, for silence, for meditation, for devotional reading?

I think we all want to feel centered in our lives:  anchored, solid, focused, balanced, at peace.  I believe we all want to live into that reality about which St. Paul wrote:

"Don't be anxious about anything; rather bring up all of your requests to God in your prayers and petitions, along with giving thanks.  Then the peace of God that exceeds all understanding will keep your hearts and minds safe in Christ Jesus."  (Philippians 4:6-7, Common English Bible)

Maybe a group of folks in our Presbytery would like to begin meeting regularly to pray together.  Maybe such a group or groups already does that!  I trust you'll join me in wanting to find some folks with whom to engage in the practices of the spiritual life.  And in the meantime, keep praying; you, me, our churches, our communities, our world all need it!

Blessings and peace,

Steve

Ordinary Time

I have a deep and abiding appreciation for the liturgical calendar of the Church.  It provides a framework and rhythm for remembering... for remembering God's redeeming and intervening work in human lives and history, for remembering the power and wonder of the Holy Spirit, for remembering to pause and reflect and confess.  And so Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, the Baptism of the Lord, Lent, Holy Week, Easter, and Pentecost provide that ongoing rhythm of faith and life, of worship and prayer within the community of the Church.

But here we are today.  It's just after the first of the Sundays in "Ordinary Time."  For those of you not as familiar with the liturgical year, there are two Ordinary Times during the year:  between the Baptism of the Lord and Ash Wednesday, and between Pentecost and Advent.  Just as our Book of Confessions has the Shorter Catechism and the Larger Catechism, ... (and can anyone tell me why it's "shorter" and "larger," and not "shorter" and "longer," or "smaller" and "larger"?  Inquiring minds want to know!) ... so there is a shorter and longer duration of Ordinary Time every year.  The challenge, at least for me, is that these weeks are so, well, "ordinary."  There's not the anticipation of Advent, the wonder of Christmas, the solemnity of Lent, the joy of Easter, or the celebration of Pentecost.  It's all just "ordinary."

Yet isn't this, too, part of the beauty and wisdom of the liturgical calendar?  These two seasons of the year remind us that God comes to us where we live most all the time - in the routines of life that is ordinary.  To be sure, there are times of joy and celebration and wonder in our lives, just as there are times of pain and grief and even despair.  But most of life for us is lived neither in the heights nor in the depths.  Rather, most of life is, yes, ordinary.

God is with us in the "ordinariness" of life, too.  God is with us when things just go on and on each day.  God is with us when life feels boring.  God is with us in the mundane routines of our lives.  God is still Immanuel.  Christ still suffered with us and for us, and then rose in power for us.  The Spirit still fills us with power and gifts for ministry and witness.

All in the "ordinary" times of our lives.

Blessings and peace,

Steve

Martin Luther King, Jr.

I have two older sisters... like 10 and 13 years older. Although we come from the same birth family, our formative years were spent in societies in the U.S. that were very different.  My sisters were growing up primarily in the 50's; I was growing up primarily in the 60's.  Those were VERY different years in our nation!  It probably should be no surprise, therefore, to hear that my sisters and I have very different political views.  Every now and then, one of them will ask me, "How is it that you turned out so different from us?"  I just smile and say, "The 60's.  Remember?"  Whereas their formative years were shaped by U.S. strength and prosperity in the world, mine were shaped by assassinations, race riots, and Vietnam.

The writings, speeches, and sermons of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. long have had profound impact on my life and my worldview.  The ties that I feel to him probably were made stronger by the fact that he was assassinated on my 17^th birthday:  April 4, 1968.

I remember reading his August 1963 Letter from Birmingham Jail to the pastoral leaders in that community.  It persuasively - at least to me! - laid out his defense for coming to Birmingham to participate in the demonstrations that were taking place.  More than that, though, Dr. King laid out his eloquently and passionately worded belief that "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."  He accurately pointed out to his ministerial brothers (they were all men at that time, of course), that "History is the long and tragic story of the fact that privileged groups seldom give up their privileges voluntarily."

How do we honor such a profound legacy as the one Dr. King left to us?  Surely setting aside one day is something, albeit minimal.  And the inspired idea of making King's birthday holiday into a National Day of Service is a huge step in the right direction.  Ultimately, of course, it comes down to each of us... as well as to all of us.  What kinds of things are we willing to do to stand for peace and justice?  How will others know of our strong Reformed heritage of working for societal good and for the welfare of those most helpless and in need?  How do we demonstrate our embrace of all people as children of God, those for whom Christ lived and died?

Profound questions, yes?  And profound questions always call for definitive, intentional, demonstrative, and profound answers.

Blessings and peace,

Steve

Epiphany

Today, January 6, is Epiphany.  In Church tradition, this is the day in which we remember the visit of the Magi to the Christ Child.  It is the day we remember that a light in the sky led them to the Light of the World.  Coming from a non-Jewish tradition, they recognized the Messiah - the Chosen One - who had come into the world.

To be honest, Epiphany wasn't on my radar as I was growing up.  I might have heard the word before I got to seminary, but I can't swear to that.  Over the years, however, this holiday has become increasingly significant for me and for my family.  First, this is the day we traditionally take down our Christmas tree.  Oh, I know that's counter-cultural to leave it up this long, but we always have tried to observe and honor the fact that Christmas for the Church really is a 12-day celebration.  So, now that Christmas is officially over, our tree comes down.  (In fact, my wife,

Caroline, is packing up the ornaments as I finish writing this!  Thankfully, she really does love doing that.  God bless her; I love that woman!)  Second, we closed the Christmas holiday season with a Twelfth Night Party at our home last night.  Family, friends, and neighbors graciously responded to the invitation to spend part of an evening together, sharing good food and even better company with each other.  Epiphany is the marker for the 12th night, or Epiphany Eve if you will.

Epiphany often gets me thinking about what gifts I bring to Christ... where and how I recognize his presence in the world and in my life... or where and how I miss seeing the light that he brings to me and to others.

Long ago I bookmarked a webpage that offers a daily devotional from the Christian community in Iona, off the coast of Scotland.  Recently, this was in the day's offering for reflection and prayer:

"Lord of the excluded, open my ears to those I would prefer not to hear;

open my life to those I would prefer not to know;

open my heart to those I would prefer not to love;

and so open my eyes to see where I exclude you."

As I begin this new year, my prayer is that I may be ever more attentive to the presence of Jesus... lest I somehow exclude him.

Blessings and peace,

Steve

In the flesh

Two years ago I missed Advent completely.  I had serious complications following a surgical procedure early that November, and I was out of commission for two months. There is so much I learned during that time - about grace, about receiving pastoral care from the congregation I served as pastor, about humility, about human frailty, about vulnerability, and so much more!

During my recuperation during those weeks, several passages of Scripture became important to me... along with many prayers that came from a number of different sources.  One verse, however, struck me in a more profound way than it ever had before.  It was a verse that I had read countless times before.  It was a verse that I had read in Christmas Eve worship services for years and years.  It's not that it wasn't meaningful before this time, but it struck a chord deeper within me than ever before.

The verse reminded me to what extreme God was willing to go to love me.  The verse reminded me that God in Christ - Immanuel - truly was, as the earliest Church Councils affirmed, not only fully divine, but also fully human.  Perhaps I simply had taken Jesus' humanity for granted.  But during those weeks, as I prayed and meditated during my physical rehab and exercises, the fact that Jesus was human - had a body just like mine, experienced joy and sorrow just like me, felt elation and pain just like me - touched my soul and gave me hope.

The verse?  It's the one we know by heart... which you'll hear or read or (I hope) think about tomorrow sometime:  "And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us."  May Jesus, born of Mary, fill your heart, your mind, and your body this day... all days.

Blessings and peace,

Steve

My baptism anniversary

I don't remember the Rev. Dr. Arthur W. Hoffman, but I grew up hearing about him.  He was "the pastor" of my home church - First Pres. in Joliet, Illinois.  He'd been gone for a few years before I remember anything about that church, but his impact was lasting.  The Fellowship Hall, in fact, was renamed "Hoffman Hall" in his honor after he left.

Dr. Hoffman had an impact on my life, however.  Well, to be more precise, he was a vehicle through which I was a recipient of God's grace.  You see, on this date, December 16, he stood in front of the congregation during the worship service, put water on my head, and uttered those ancient, powerful, sacramental words:  "I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."  My parents were asked some questions that morning.  The congregation was asked some questions as well.  He didn't ask me one thing.  At least, I don't suppose he did, but as I was only a little over 8 months old, I don't remember a thing about it.  But I remember that it happened.  And I remember each year on this date that it happened way back then.

No, he didn't ask me one thing.  Didn't ask if I wanted to be baptized.  Didn't  ask if I understood the magnitude of what was being undertaken.  Didn't ask if I believed in Jesus, or if I believed in anything.  But isn't that how it really becomes the powerful sign that baptism is?  We Presbyterian and Reformed folk have a different understanding than many other Christian traditions about baptism.  We always have believed that baptism is more about what God says to us than about anything we might say to God.  And God says, "Even before you know how to respond, I have come to you... to claim you as My own... to bless you with My love... to fill you with My grace."

On that December 16 morning long ago a sign was given.  What had been true from my earliest moments of existence was given voice that morning.  I was nothing less than a child of God, a member of the Covenant community, a creature so dearly loved by his Creator.

Again, I knew nothing of that then.  I probably cried... which, when I think of it, is not a bad response to such overwhelming evidence of love and grace.  Okay,I probably cried because I was hungry, or tired, or needed changing.  But I like to imagine that somewhere deep inside, something resonated within my tiny being. But even if nothing registered with me then, it does now.  The Child in the manger who was God's sign to the whole world, continues to extend love and grace, acceptance and blessing, to all of us as God's beloved children.

And today I remember that.  And I give thanks.

Blessings and peace,

Steve

Protestants and Mary

I'm old enough to remember the incredible impact that the Second Vatican Council had in the early- to mid-1960's.  Vatican II radically shifted many things for our Roman Catholic sisters and brothers, not the least of which was that worship services were held in the language of the people of each congregation around the world, not just in Latin.

Vatican II also changed things for us Protestants as well.  The liturgical reforms within the Roman Church spilled over and onto us.  While priests were learning the importance of preaching in worship, we were learning the importance of the Sacraments.  Before Vatican II, most Presbyterian congregations celebrated Communion four times a year, whether we needed it or not!  Now, most all of us celebrate Communion at least monthly, sometimes more often.

With a new openness in dialogue that began with Vatican II, we started to be open to considering many things in new ways... ways which we might have previously only dared to whisper disdainfully that something was "Catholic."

However, one obvious difference remains between us, I believe... and that is the role of Mary.  I feel that, whereas some of our Roman sisters and brothers go overboard in their devotion to Mary, we Protestants threw her out with so many other things in the "bathwater" of the Reformation.  I believe we've done that to our detriment.  To be sure, we drag Mary out of the closet during Advent.  After all, it's hard to talk about the birth of Jesus without talking about His mother!  But as soon as Christmas Eve is over, Mary goes back in the box with the crèche, the animals, the shepherds, and the Wise Men.

I believe that our Orthodox Christian sisters and brothers have a wonderful example for us that can be helpful and instructive.  Rather than refer to St. Mary with the titles most used by our Roman Catholic sisters and brothers - titles such as the Mother of Jesus, or the Mother of God, or the Blessed Virgin Mary – Orthodox Christians most often refer to Mary using the Greek word, Theotokos. Theotokos literally means "God-bearer," or the one who brings God to the world.  That, it seems to me, is something that we could use to acknowledge a proper and a biblical view of Mary. I find that term helpful.  More than that, though, I find that term instructive. As we Christians are to learn from one another, we can properly learn something about how we can follow in God's ways by learning how Mary served God fully, bravely, and humbly.  She bore Christ to the world... gave of herself, and brought Christ to the world.

We, too, are invited, and I believed called, by God to bring Christ to the world:  to a world in need of light... to a world in need of love... to a world in need of hope... to a world in need of justice... to a world in need of peace.  And we can learn a bit about how to do that by paying some attention to Mary.

Blessings and peace,

Steve

Advent and waiting

At the meeting this morning of the Committee on Ministry, the opening devotions centered, appropriately enough, on the predominant Advent theme of "waiting."  And waiting is not something we do well in our instant-gratification oriented society, is it?

Years ago I wrote an Advent devotional for the congregation that I served at the time.  I wrote one devotional for each day of Advent, and began with that pesky idea of "waiting."  The Scripture passage I chose for that first Monday in the first week of Advent was Galatians 4:4-7.  This begins by talking about how Christ came when the time was right:  "But when the fulfillment of the time came, God sent his Son, born through a woman...so that we could be adopted."  People had long waited for the Messiah to come, just as we long for the time when the Messiah's reign will be completed.  Isn't that why we pray every Sunday, if not every day, "thy kingdom come," because we know there is more to God's reign than what we experience now in our broken and fallen world?  We long for that promised Day!  And so we work, and we pray, and we witness, and we advocate for peace and justice, and, yes, we wait.  And again, waiting is not easy for most of us.  So I began my Advent devotional with what I entitled, "Waiting - An Advent Prayer."  On this first Monday in the first week of Advent, I share this with you all...

Waiting . . .

Lord, I'm tired of waiting:

waiting for the next appointment

waiting for school to get out

waiting for the 4:30 time-clock

or the 6:02 to the city

waiting for Christmas finally to get here.

It seems that waiting

is what I most often do -

waiting to feel closer to You,

waiting for my prayer life to mature,

waiting to be "spiritual."

I wait for others to do what they should,

even when I cannot do what I know I must.

I am tired of waiting, Lord.

I have become impatient with my impatience!

So, during Advent,

slow me down, Lord.

Let me drink deeply the sweet water

of your love, your presence.

Let me rest awhile

in the sea of your grace.

And let me patiently learn

the art of waiting; knowing that,

In the fullness of time,

your will will be done.

Amen.

A happy and blessed Advent to you all!

Blessings and peace,

Steve

Thoughts on Thanksgiving and being grateful

By avocation, by interest, by passion, and by an almost-2nd-major in college, I am an historian.  I love history!  That wasn't always the case, but my U.S. History teacher during my junior year in high school absolutely turned me around in my appreciation for history.  It is in knowing our past that we can gain a clearer sense of who we are in the present and an ability to discern where we might or should go in the future.

The Governing Council of Charlestown, Massachusetts, on June 20, 1676, issued the first, formal Thanksgiving Proclamation - at least issued by immigrant settlers in this land.  President George Washington proclaimed our first national day of public thanksgiving, calling the citizens of our new nation to set aside a day "by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many and signal favors of Almighty God."   In 1863, President Abraham Lincoln, at the height of the Civil War, established Thanksgiving Day as an annual observance in our country.  And so, this week, we stand in that long tradition of setting aside time to give thanks to God.

Of course, the idea of thanksgiving long pre-dates any observances of ours on this continent.  One of the traditional names of our Sacrament of Communion is Eucharist, which comes from the Greek New Testament word, eucharisteo, which means "be thankful," "render thanks," "be grateful."

For what are you thankful?  For which blessings from God are you particularly and especially grateful right now?  Among other things, I'm grateful for the fact that our son and daughter-in-law will be visiting us in our new home for Thanksgiving.  I'm grateful for the opportunity to live in such an incredibly beautiful part of the United States.  I'm grateful for the opportunity to serve as your Stated Clerk and Communicator.  I'm grateful for my health.  I'm grateful for my family, near and far.  I'm grateful that God has taken the initiative to reach out and accept me and love me and bless me, despite my shortcomings, my sins, and the brokenness that is a part of me.  (Dietrich Bonhoeffer was so accurate, wasn't he, in his assessment that the Church is both the communion of saints and the communion of sinners?  In fact, he sounded almost like a Calvinist when he wrote that!).  I'm grateful for friends, old and new.  I'm grateful that I can take the trash out in front of my house late tonight, and have a wonderful 5-minute conversation about the holidays and children with a man I've never met, of a different race than me, who just happened to be walking down the street at the same time I wheeled out our trash cans.

I'm blessed indeed... and I am profoundly thankful.  How about you?

Blessings and peace, Steve

Brief and to the point

(From my column in Presbytery's e-letter on November 18, 2013)

150 years ago tomorrow, a nationally renowned public speaker named Edward Everett delivered a speech that was some two hours long at the dedication ceremony for the cemetery at the site of the Battle of Gettysburg.  Everett apparently was prepared for everything, even having a tent erected near the podium so that, in the course of his speech, he could take a bathroom break if nature called!  His speech was 13,607 words long.  By contrast, my sermon manuscripts have run somewhere between 1500-1800 words.

However, even my usual-length sermons are overly verbose compared with the speaker that followed Everett onto that podium that bright November day in Pennsylvania.   President Lincoln almost wasn't invited to speak, since the sponsors of the event weren't convinced that his plain-spoken, home-spun words would sufficiently honor the somber ceremony.  However, Lincoln delivered his "few, brief remarks" that day... 10 sentences, using 272 words, that have been firmly etched in our national psyche.

It gives me pause as one who has been delivering sermons for 36+ years to think  of the impact of that two minute speech.  I've been amused at the Facebook "challenge" that's been making the rounds, asking preachers to think about limiting a sermon to 272 words!  If anyone you know has tried it, I'd love to hear from them.

Author and theologian, the late Henri Nouwen, wrote about how we can utter words  that are filled with power and meaning... words that build love and community.   He said that the words we speak should come from a place rooted in prayerful silence.  He wrote: "A word with power is a word that comes out of (prayerful) silence.  A word that bears fruit is a word that emerges from the silence and returns to it... A word that is not rooted in silence is a weak, powerless word that sounds like a "clashing cymbal or a booming gong." (1 Cor. 13:1)." (From Nouwen's book, The Way of the Heart, p. 56)

No matter how long or short a sermon might be, and no matter how long or short any conversation is that we might have with someone else, are our words just so much fluff and hot air, just blah, blah, blah?  Or do our words carry authenticity,  convey love, spark dialogue, engender community, call for justice, build peace? May all of our words come from that place deep within us where we commune with God, so that the Word Incarnate, Jesus Christ, might be manifest in the words we utter.

Blessings and peace, Steve

Thoughts on Veterans' Day

(From an e-letter column on Nov. 11, 2013)

I've been reflecting quite a bit today about the fact that it is Veteran's Day.   I confess that I feel a bit conflicted about this day.  On the one hand, I am profoundly grateful for those who have served, and who continue to serve, in our military services.  We too easily take for granted the freedoms we enjoy, and many of those freedoms have been enshrined by the sacrifices of our military members.  At the same time, I bemoan the fact that we have chosen to go to war as a nation numerous times.   I believe that war is most always indicative of a failure:  a failure of communication, of understanding, of diplomacy, of negotiation.  To be sure, the Church over the  centuries has declared certain conflicts to be "just wars."  But even the fact  that the Church came up with that concept early in its life indicates that there  had been some question about whether a Christian, as a member of society, could  participate in the actions of a government that was attempting to protect peace  and punish wickedness.

Here's what I think... First, war is an indication of the reality of sin and brokenness in our fallen world.  Second, I have the luxury of standing at my computer desk  to write this because people have sacrificed to protect our nation and our freedoms, and for those people I am profoundly grateful.  Third, we are called to work for  peace:  interpersonally as well as internationally.

I have a framed poster ready to hang in my study that speaks my heart's desire and my challenge about standing for peace.  Here's what it says:

"Peace plans its strategy and encircles the enemy.  Peace marshals its forces and storms the gates.  Peace gathers its weapons and pierces the defense.  Peace, like war, is waged. But Christ has turned it all around:

·      the weapons of peace are love, joy, goodness, longsuffering;

·      the arms of peace are justice, truth, patience, prayer;

·      the strategy of peace brings safety, welfare, happiness;

·      the forces of peace are the sons and daughters of God."

And so today, I have offered prayers of thanks for our military and civilian service members, and I have offered prayers for peace.  That's how I've tried to honor and observe this Veteran's Day.

Blessings and peace, Steve

Church "success"

This past weekend, my wife, Caroline, and I went to visit our son and daughter-in-law in Hudson Falls.  Caroline stayed there a few days longer, getting things packed up from her temporary stay there as we are getting ready to move into our home  in Syracuse the end of this week.  We're excited, to say the least!

As I was driving back to Syracuse Sunday afternoon, I was listening to a radio program in which previous speakers gave TED talks on the subject of "success."  One of the speakers said something that got me thinking... He said that the United States has a culture based on the concept of "meritocracy."  In other words, we base an individual's value not so much anymore on where they live, who their family is, or even how much money they have.  We base it on what they "do."  And thus people either have or don't have "merit" to society.  Further, he posited the idea that we feel that people "deserve" the merit they either have or don't have.  If they are what we deem as  a "success" in life, then they deserve their success.  Conversely, if someone is seen as a "loser" or "failure," they are deemed to have deserved that as well.   This whole idea that people are either a "success" or a "failure," a winner or a loser, is rampant in our society.

What got me thinking is how this relates to ways in which we view our congregations.  We assume that congregations that continue to lose members each year do so because they somehow have done something to "deserve" that sort of "failure"... they have not adapted enough, been flexible enough, been welcoming enough, been open to change enough, etc.  Similarly, the few churches that seem to grow in numbers each year clearly "deserve" their "success"... they have offered new services, praise music, varieties of worship experiences, innovative leadership, etc.  Do we really want to buy into society's automatic judgment of whether and how our congregations are either "winners" or "losers," successes or failures???  I think that's dangerous... and I think it's unbiblical.

We ought not fall into the mindset that dwindling numbers are acceptable without question; we need constantly to find new and meaningful ways to spread the Gospel of Jesus to a world that still is hungry for meaning and lasting values in life.   However, we also need to remember that Christ never, ever called us to be "successful."  We are simply called to be faithful. Wouldn't it be amazing if we could find some way, in our annual statistical reports to the General Assembly, to demonstrate our faithfulness to our calling as followers of Jesus?  What might that look like?  How might we define and describe such faithfulness?

Blessings and peace, Steve

History... and Future

It has been fascinating and most enjoyable for me to have been able to visit several of the congregations in our Presbytery.  Without fail, I have been greeted with kindness and warmth.  Having lived most of my life in parts of the country where something that is 100 years old is "old," it's a joy for this history buff to visit congregations that are well over 200 years old.  I love this sense of history in  our churches and our part of the state. As much as I love history, I also love looking toward the future.

The image in Genesis 1 of the Spirit (or wind, or breath) of God moving over the primordial chaos, readying to birth order and wonder in creation, is a powerful image for me of how the Lord is stirring in our midst to give birth to new life in the future. This is the time of year when many, even most, of our congregations are in the midst of discerning their financial stewardship needs for the future.  It's always tempting during these times to simply ask, "Well, what do we need for the next 12 months?"  What if we reshaped the question?  What if we asked, "What seeds need to be planted in 2014 for the next 20, 50, 100 years of worship, witness, ministry, and work to be lived in faithful discipleship to the God of all creation?"  This might reframe the issue, don't you think?

Another way to look at this whole issue, of course, is not to consider what we should give to God, as if we were considering how much of our credit card balance is really "due" this month.  Rather, we can look at this as how we demonstrate our gratitude to God for God's gifts to us in the first place.  A friend and blogger recently wrote about financial stewardship in this way:  "It helps if people understand,... in the Christian tradition, that God gives people 100 percent of everything and  lets them keep up to 90 percent if they need to." May God bless and guide you all during these weeks of discerning people's financial stewardship.  The results will affect not just 2014 but also the years and decades to come.

Blessings and peace,

Steve

Updating

My blogging has been sporadic over the past couple of years since I began.  I'd get an idea - or several - and then choose to put it in my blog.  Then I'd get busy doing other things, and keeping up with my blog slipped way down on the "to-do" list.

I recently realized that I blog almost every week... in my comments in the Presbytery's e-letter.  So, I thought I'd catch up on my blog posts by publishing my recent columns.

I hope it's helpful... instructive... evocative... or maybe just a bit entertaining.  I'd love to hear your comments.