“This life, therefore, is not godliness but the process of becoming godly, not health but getting well, not being but becoming, not rest but exercise. We are not now what we shall be, but we are on the way. The process is not yet finished, but it is actively going on. This is not the goal but it is the right road. At present, everything does not gleam and sparkle, but everything is being cleansed.”

– Martin Luther

Probably most parents have, at one time or another, heard the plaintive question from the back seat:  “Are we there yet?”  Often the time of Lent in the church is referred to as a journey, but perhaps that language should refer to the whole of our life of faith.  As Luther points out in the quotation above, we are not a finished product in this life, we are not there yet.  We do not graduate from Sunday School or confirmation, and suddenly have every answer for every situation, but we walk in the presence of Jesus’ promise to be with us each step of the way.

This means we humbly ask each day for this day’s bread, for this day’s wisdom, and this day’s courage to take our steps in faith toward God and love toward one another.  When we do this we can allow our eyes and ears to be open to God’s calling this day.  The mistakes of yesterday can be washed away.  The challenges today will be different, and the opportunities to serve will change with our own experiences, strengths, and the situations this day brings.

We’re not there yet.  But God is still working within us.   As we read a couple Sundays ago:  “And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.”  —  2 Corinthians 3:18

God’s blessings on this day’s journey!

“I will sing to the Lord as long as I live;
I will sing praise to my God while I have being.” Psalm 104:33

This verse was quoted at the conclusion of Ben Larson’s obituary.   In last Sunday’s sermon I mentioned that Ben was a friend to our family who passed away during the earthquake in Haiti.  Upon returning to this country his widow, Renee, gave an interview quoted here from the ELCA news service:

“All he wanted was to be a pastor in this church,” Renee said.
The three senior students at Wartburg Seminary, Dubuque, Iowa, went to Haiti to teach Lutheran theology to members and pastors of the Lutheran church during the seminary’s January term.  That all changed on Jan. 12, when a severe earthquake struck Haiti.  At the time of the quake all three were together in the St. Joseph Home for Boys.
“We were all together on the same floor,” when the building began to shake, Renee said. “We all kind of panicked and started running.  Jonathan and I were together. (Ben) was hugging a pillar in the middle of the floor.  I turned and I saw him, and I saw concrete starting to fall on him.  I called for him and started running toward him.”
At that moment the two floors above collapsed on them.  Jonathan and Renee were trapped for a short time, but managed to squeeze out onto the roof of the building and called for Ben, she said.  The collapsed building continued to shift as the aftershocks continued, Renee said.  The two went back to the place where they had crawled out and called again for Ben.  Renee said she heard Ben’s voice.  He was singing, not unusual for Ben who loved music. “I told him I loved him, and that Jon and I were okay, and to keep singing,” Renee said. But the singing stopped after he sang the words “God’s peace to us we pray,” she said.
“If he was alive, he would have been calling for help desperately,” Renee said. “Ben spent his last breath singing.”

I am saddened by the loss, and humbled by the kind of faith that sings to the very end.  It makes me consider how I live out my rather ordinary days.  Is my life one of praise for the tremendous good gifts we share everyday?  If confronted with the end, could I summon the courage and strength to sing?

As the snow and ice clatter against the window, I find it interesting to read the Psalm assigned for the first Sunday in January:

“Worship the Lord, O Jerusalem;

Praise your God, O Zion,

God gives snow like wool, scattering frost like ashes,

God scatters hail like bread crumbs.

Who can stand against God’s cold?

The Lord sends forth the word and melts them;

The wind blows, and the water flow”  Psalm 147:12, 16-18

First of all it seems that the weather has been a topic of conversation at worship for much longer than our generation.  But rather than getting all caught up in the latest forecast, and dreading the onset of the latest storm, the psalmist takes a longer view of  God’s hand within both the cold of snow and the warmth of spring.  God’s power and presence are to been seen in the winter’s snows, the spring rains, the richness of summer meadows, and the bounty of the harvest in autumn.  Throughout all seasons, we are called to a life of worship and praise.

We’ve just been allowed the privilege of celebrating another Christmas season.  It has been wonderful to hear the music of the season by which we are so richly blessed in this congregation.  It is always a joy to see the smiles on our children’s faces as they share in the Christmas program.  It’s great to see families gather for worship and for home celebrations.  Thanks again to all who have made this season so very special.

Now we look to a new year, and even though the Christmas lights will soon be going dim, Jesus, the light of the world, shines brightly in every dark corner of this world and your life.  Come worship the Lord, and Praise your God, in every season.

God’s Peace,

Pastor John Twiton

In looking ahead to this Advent season, I was paging through the hymns assigned for the season.  The words of  “Each Winter as the Year Grows Older”   (WOV #628) caught my attention.  It is not a hymn that I’m familiar with, but it begins like this:

“Each winter as the year grows older,

we each grow older too.

The chill sets in a little colder;

the verities we knew seem shaken and untrue.”

:Now maybe I’m a little sensitive to the ‘growing older’ line, since so many have had to comment on my recent birthday, but the long dark nights and cold winds do seem to sink in a little quicker.  The news of the day seldom provides much relief, and it is easy feel a little shaken by the events all around us.

So this season of hope and expectation could not be more welcome.  I need to hear the promise again this year of  ‘good news of a great joy that shall be to all the people’.  We need to come together to sing, gather around the warmth of family and friends, share meals and celebrate to goodness of our God.  We need to bask in the light of the promise that God’s love is Christ is enough to warm the coldest night, and mend the broken heart.

The hymn continues with this verse:

“Yet I believe beyond believing,

that life can spring from death;

that growth can flower from our grieving,

that we can catch our breath, and turn transfixed by faith.”

My friends, breathe in the goodness of our Lord and celebrate light, life and hope this season.  Come together to celebrate, and share the blessings of this season with those who might still be feeling the cold and darkness closing in.  Jesus comes to bring life, healing, and hope, and we need that this day, and every day.

Peace,

Pastor John Twiton

And this, then,

is the vision of that Heaven of which

we have heard, where those who love

each other have forgiven each other,

where, for that, the leaves are green,

the light a music in the air,

and all is unentangled,

and all is undismayed.

– Wendell Berry,
from his poem “To My Mother”

The beginning of each November we pause to commemorate All Saints Sunday, and my mind wanders among images of those who have gone before me, both in the history of the church and in my lifetime’s memories.  I don’t know what heaven looks like, but I like the feel of what Wendell Berry captures in his poem printed above.

The primary image the Bible conveys is that we shall be in the presence of the Lord and that in God’s love there will be a new creation, free from the sin, pain, and tears of this world.  The dark, cold, and wet days of the past week have left me longing for the green leaves, and music, and light that Berry describes, but even more I need the presence of the love and forgiveness that precede them.  When I feel entangled by the tendrils of doubt, conflict, and fear, I need the promise of freedom.  When I could give in to the dismay that this world heaps up, I need the word of hope that comes only from Christ.

Then I realize that in faith we can have a glimpse of those things even now.  God promises to be present with us each day.  The light of this world has come to dwell among us.  Forgiveness and love are available to us today, not just off in some future.  We can, and must proclaim this kingdom of God right here, right now.   We can celebrate the saints of the past, and the saints in our lives, but we are called to be today’s witnesses to another reality, the kingdom of God, today.

“For the kingdom of God is not food and drink but righteousness

and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit”  Romans 14:17