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Do you love me?

April 25, 2012 /

“Do you love me?” Jesus’, asks Peter. The same Peter who had proclaimed he would never abandoned Jesus but had done so when the pressure was on. As the words pierced his ears, Peter’s soul likely ached with an emptiness that longed to ask the same question of Jesus. “Do you love me Jesus?”

Peter is not alone in his wonder. In a million different ways, we frantically ask God the same question. But “as long as I keep running about asking: ‘Do you love me? Do you really love me?’ I will give all power to the voices in the world and put myself in bondage because the world is filled with ‘ifs.’ The world says: ‘Yes, I love you if you are good-looking, intelligent, and wealthy. I love you if you have a good education, a good job, and good connections. I love you if you produce much, sell much, and buy much.’ There are endless ‘ifs’ hidden in the world’s love. These ‘ifs’ enslave me . . .” to an endless struggle to earn and justify God’s love, but there are no “ifs,” “buts,” or “whens” in God’s answer to our question. There is only Jesus.

Stephen

 

Quote from Henri Nouwen’s book The Return of the Prodigal Son, 42.

Luck O’ the Pot

April 1, 2012 /

All of us have experienced the potluck. Of course that’s not the only name these meals go by. Some people call it a covered dish, Jacob’s join, faith supper, Sunday surprise, bring and share, pitch-in or carry-in dinner. Or is that a carrion dinner? After all carrions are large, carnivorous, scavenger birds and . . . isn’t it funny how sometimes we hear things but don’t really hear things? I once had a mentor pastor who had a plaque sitting on his desk which read, “I know you think you heard what I said, but what you think I said is not what I said.” It was great! There was a tremendous amount of wisdom in those words.

Our Bible is filled with the struggle to communicate. Today, we celebrate Palm Sunday, Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem when the long-awaited messiah would take his rightful place on the throne of David. The crowds and disciples had heard Jesus say this was the time, but what they heard and what he said were two very different things. This week we call Holy Week was filled with holy dissonance as the people struggled to reconcile what they thought they thought they heard with what they were seeing and hearing.

The dissonance continues today. Every time we open our Bibles, we feel the struggle to understand. In this fog we experience something mysteriously wonderful. We experience the great lengths God will go to communicate his love for humanity. After all, it’s the whole story of the Bible: the great efforts to which God will go to communicate his message for humanity’s redemption.

Stephen

Ghost Ship

March 12, 2012 /

Japan Ship

When’s the last time you lost something? And did you ever find it? If you’ve been paying much attention to the news over the last day or so, you know that one of the main stories has focused on the presence of a Japanese fishing vessel off the coast of Canada. After apparently bobbing along in the Pacific for over a year, it’s nearing land. As far as we know, it has had no driver other than the ocean currents. And while it appears rusty and forsaken, it’s still floating—set adrift by the Japanese tsunami of March 2011. Several news sites report that the owner has been notified. I wonder if they now feel relieved or burdened? Their ship has been found but it’s also been tagged as an obstruction!

People get lost too. Sometimes the thing that sets them adrift might be an event, the loss of a loved one, a fractured relationship, or abuse by someone they should be able to trust. The list goes on and on—each with a different story, a different heartbreak, an unspoken burden. Unfortunately “lost” people have a way of getting in our way. And we start seeing them as obstacles rather than as lost people. We give them labels—“that black kid” or “that white guy.”

Jesus, we read in Scripture, came to “seek and save the lost.” “No problem,” we think, “we can go along with that.” But then, just about the time truly lost people start bumping up against us and coming in view of our borders, we call for a hasty retreat. And too often, we don’t even realize what we’re doing. Sometimes it’s as simple as rearranging our gaze and avoiding eye contact. Other times, we call out the protective forces to build a wall around the ways that we know and love. Sometimes we’re bold enough and brave enough and “right” enough that we even call up the owner of the lost stuff to tell him that his lost property has been spotted and is in danger of crashing into our shores and obstructing our ships. The lost has been found, but how often are we more distracted by minimizing damage than we are focused on embracing the lost? May God give us eyes to see and hearts to fully love the “lost” people all around us.

Laura

* Photo Source: (http://msnbcmedia.msn.com/j/MSNBC/Components/Photo/_new/120324-japan-ship-hmed-1p.photoblog600.jpg)

Dry Bread

February 14, 2012 /

Dry BreadEarlier this week, I forgot a slice of bread in the toaster. Coming back a couple hours later, I decided to do something I haven’t done in a long time. I decided to feed the birds. Taking the slice out of the toaster, I set it on the counter to dry out. Now I have to admit that it’s been so long since I was involved in putting out bread for the birds that I spent some time pondering how long I needed to let the bread dry out—and probably erred on the long side. A couple days later, I could barely break it in my hands and thought about tossing it in the garbage. Still the thought of watching birds gobble it up caused me to keep on putting it out. It’s kind of like that in the Christian life as well. Sometimes we feel inadequate and dried out as we allow ourselves to be broken for God to use.

N.T. Wright in commenting on the feeding of the five thousand writes— “This is how it works whenever someone is close enough to Jesus to catch a glimpse of what he’s doing and how they could help. We blunder in with our ideas. We offer, uncomprehending, what little we have. Jesus takes ideas, loaves and fishes, money, a sense of humour, time, energy, talents, love, artistic gifts, skill with words, quickness of eye or fingers, whatever we have to offer. He holds them before his father with prayer and blessing. Then, breaking them so they are ready for use, he gives them back to us to give to those who need them. . . . And now they are both ours and not ours. They are both what we had in mind and not what we had in mind. Something greater and different, more powerful and mysterious, yet also our own. It is part of genuine Christian service, at whatever level, that we look on in amazement to see what God has done with the bits and pieces we dug out of our meager resources to offer to him” (from Matthew for Everyone).

The next time we feel disappointed with our broken pieces, let’s trust God to use them to feed a multitude. After all, broken pieces of bread go farther than whole loaves. So let’s keep putting them out.

Laura

Footprints in the Snow

January 25, 2012 /

As I look out at our backyard, the first thing I see is footprints in the snow. Lots and lots of Footprints in the Snowfootprints. Footprints that run into each other and cross each other. Footprints that stand alone and even. Some tell the stories of rabbits. Others of squirrels. Of a chocolate lab. Of people. I could go on and on. A couple weeks ago, I noticed a very telling and interesting set of footprints. Rabbits tracks started and then ended. Where they ended, I noticed an interesting set of tracks. Four wide marks on the snow and then nothing. Wing marks perhaps? I can see it now. A rabbit was moving along, making its way up the hill, when swoop! Down came a hawk and the rabbit went poof!

I wonder what the scene would look like if every step we took was recorded in eternal snow. What would our footprints say about where we have been and where we are going? What would we learn about those we travel with and what would they learn about us? There’s an old adage that effectively says you really don’t know someone until you have walked in their moccasins. While we can never completely walk in anyone else’s shoes, God often uses the experiences of our lives to increase our compassion and the grace we show others. If you’ve gone through the pain of divorce, you have a better idea of what someone who is going through a divorce is experiencing. If death has come knocking on your door, you know what it’s like to lose someone you love. If you’ve lived with depression, you understand the struggle of another. If you’ve heard the words, “You have cancer,” you know what it feels like. Experiences either make us better or worse. May all our experiences make us better, more compassionate people—people God uses to touch, encourage and bring hope to others.

Blessings,
Laura

Living the Dream

January 15, 2012 /

Today would have been Martin Luther King Jr’s 83rd birthday, and on Monday much of our nation will commemorate his legacy.

In response to a published statement made by eight fellow clergymen on April 16, 1963, King penned his much-read open Letter from a Birmingham Jail. I remember studying this letter in high school. It intrigued me so much that I wrote to the Birmingham Public Library to obtain a copy of the letter that had been written by the eight clergymen. Somewhere in my files, I still have the original letter I received in reply. In King’s letter from the jail, he speaks greatly of his disappointment with the church and its failure to speak out against the injustice faced by the black community.

‎”In deep disappointment I have wept over the laxity of the church. But be assured that my tears have been tears of love. There can be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love . . . But, oh! How we have blemished and scarred that body through social neglect and through fear of being nonconformists.”

Sadly, many of the issues that precipitated the civil rights movement of the 1960s still remain today. Racism, segregation, poverty, limited opportunities, etc. Though not as obvious as a color bar next to a door, the tensions have gone underground and continue to divide our society. They are challenges faced not only by the African American, but also by Somalis, Hispanics, Asians, and Arabs.

In Galatians 3:28, Paul tells us, “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” Two thousand years later, we still struggle to live the truth of these words. Yet two thousand years later, the church in Christ Jesus remains the greatest hope for true peace and unity in our community.

Stephen

Promoting Unity

January 1, 2012 /

Dear Friends,

In my previous posting I expressed extreme gratitude for one of the world’s greatest inventions. A device that has single handedly promoted family unity. A device, had it been around, might have changed the course of Biblical history. What could this wonderful device be?

For centuries scholars have struggled to understand why God would accept the offering of Abel and reject Cain’s offering. Some have theorized that it is because God likes meat. Others have suggested that Abel offered the first fruits of his labors and Cain instead offered the leftover rutabagas he had lying around. Even more perplexing is why the distinction would so enrage Cain he would strike his brother dead.

I offer you today the possibility the reason for this murder may be more obvious that we ever realized. Could it be that the age-old battle between siblings as to who had to clean the roasting pan with the meat cooked on, raged in this household? Further to be exasperated by the nights when the task for preparing the family’s feast landed to Abel. A culinary genius, so skilled he could make Gordon Ramsey cry, he fed his family heartily only to leave piles of darkened pans for his brother to clean. Cain would be trapped in the kitchen scrubbing for hours unable to watch the camel races on TV. A situation very different from the nights when Cain would cook placing before his family a meager salad of spring greens and a side of seasonal fruit. On these nights Abel merely had to wisp the dishes with water and his task was complete. The disparity must have caused the rage to well up in Cain until he could stand it no longer. Picking up his scouring stone, he struck his brother dead and then went home to gnaw on a carrot.

How unfortunate they were not born thousands of years later, when in 1886, Josephine Cochran could have saved their home such pain. This grand lady, worthy of the Nobel Peace Prize, invented the first workable dishwasher.

Blessings,
Stephen

Time to Give Thanks

November 15, 2011 /

On this day of Thanksgiving, I wish to express my gratitude for, what I believe to be, one of the world’s greatest inventions. First invented in 1886 but not widely used until the 1950s, this invention single handedly promotes greatly family unity. Arguments between roommates, spouses, and children are all decreased because of this invention. Its presence in nearly every modern home encourages the frequent gathering of friends and relatives for special occasions as well as on the ordinary Tuesday night. Many days I am thankful for its existence and on a day like today I am especially thankful.

Its benefits to our lives extend even further than household unity. In fact it has played a significant role in the extension of our lives. Many a person has been spared suffering and a writhing death because of the wide acceptance of this tool.

While its name is absent from the Bible, some unemployed biblical scholars even believe, had it been around at the time, Cain might not have killed his brother Abel.

What could this tool of global harmony and ingenuity be? Well, just because I am thankful on this day does not mean I am helpful, for this answer you will have to wait until the next Milk Can . . . but you are welcome to guess.

It’s All Emergent

October 15, 2011 /

In August I had emergency appendectomy surgery. I was happily minding my own business hospitalwhen, surprise, my appendix decided that it wanted to spend the rest its days relaxing on some hillside in France. I take some pleasure thinking about the shock it must have felt when it realized its destiny was a medical incinerator rather than a life of ease in the country. In case you are wondering, I am doing well now. My surgeon at the Mayo Clinic was great. Though, I have a friend who is an anesthesiologist who told me that the job of an anesthesiologist is to keep the surgeon from killing the patient. So maybe, since I am still alive, I should be talking about how good my anesthesiologist was.

One day, as I was conveying the joys of my experience to another person, I was struck by the way I was describing the surgery. I called it an “emergency appendectomy.” Like there is some other kind! Yes, technically it was an emergency surgery, but nobody plans such things. It is not like I cruise through the McDonald’s drive thru and while I am ordering my cardiac arrest, say, “Why don’t you throw an appendectomy in with that?”

I think it seems to say something about our society in general. Have you ever noticed how things seem to always be urgent and in a rush? Since everything is urgent, we have to call those things, which are by definition urgent, an “emergency” just so people know it is serious. I admit I felt pressure to describe my surgery as an emergency surgery partly so that people wouldn’t criticize me for not getting the things done I said I would do. These realizations have caused me to ponder some questions. What other times are we prone to add emergent superlatives to our phrases just to make them sound more dramatic? In what ways do we increase the stress and anxiety of life by doing so? Do we call things urgent, that may not be, just to apply pressure to others?

Milking a Jumping Cow

October 1, 2011 /

Hello Friends,

Have you ever thought what it would be like to try and milk a jumping cow? You probably haven’t, but I have. Seven years ago as we embarked on a journey as missionaries with Global Partners to Russia, we created a monthly update called “The Milk Can.” It was, practically speaking, an attempt at milking a jersey cow as she jumped through the air. We had a lot of fun in those days, learned a lot, and spilled a little milk. In 2008 when our life transitioned from being missionaries with Global Partners to becoming the co-pastors of Oak Hills Wesleyan Church in Rochester, Minnesota, we put our cow out to pasture and put the milk can up on a shelf. We assumed there they would stay, happily munching on grass and gathering rust.

Since that time, a funny thing has been happening. As we have gone to events across our district, we have had repeated requests to bring back The Milk Can. So after much consideration, we are calling the cow back into the barn and taking the can off the shelf.

The Milk Can is back! In a slightly different form as an e-mail AND a blog. The Milk Can will remain a quirky regular update taking a look at the peculiar sides of life and making occasional spiritual observation. You might be thinking, “Does this mean you’re returning to the mission field?” No, we just miss The Milk Can and all the people we met along the way.

You are receiving this message because you were one of the original recipients of The Milk Can. This will be the only e-mail you receive in this form. If you would like to continue to receive The Milk Can, please go to our The Milk Can Blog Page and enter your e-mail address under the “Subscribe via E-Mail” heading in the right hand column.

Hope to meet you in the barn,

Stephen & Laura

P.S. Please be sure to add milkcan@jumpingjersey.org“>milkcan@jumpingjersey.org to your address book so you can receive the messages.

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