Has the President Gone Pro-Life?

Nope.

However, if there is to be found a ray of sunshine in the Health Care Bill just passed, it is that unborn children have protections still. Thank the Lord for this.

There are plenty of other problems with the bill. The debt. The government control. The enormous debt. The loss of personal freedom. The gigantic debt.

And there's the coersion. The back room deals. The secrecy. The condescending attitude toward those of us opposed to the plan. Free people and free governments shouldn't operate this way.

But I'm looking for a silver lining right now and this appears to be it.

Here is the text of the order issued Sun., Mar. 21, 2010, in time to garner votes in favor of the bill:

Executive Order ensuring enforcement and implementation of abortion restrictions in the patient protection and affordable care act.

By the authority vested in me as President by the Constitution and the laws of the United States of America, including the "Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act" (approved March ­­__, 2010), I hereby order as follows:

Section 1. Policy.

Following the recent passage of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act ("the Act"), it is necessary to establish an adequate enforcement mechanism to ensure that Federal funds are not used for abortion services (except in cases of rape or incest, or when the life of the woman would be endangered), consistent with a longstanding Federal statutory restriction that is commonly known as the Hyde Amendment. The purpose of this Executive Order is to establish a comprehensive, government-wide set of policies and procedures to achieve this goal and to make certain that all relevant actors-Federal officials, state officials (including insurance regulators) and health care providers-are aware of their responsibilities, new and old.

The Act maintains current Hyde Amendment restrictions governing abortion policy and extends those restrictions to the newly-created health insurance exchanges. Under the Act, longstanding Federal laws to protect conscience (such as the Church Amendment, 42 U.S.C. §300a-7, and the Weldon Amendment, Pub. L. No. 111-8, §508(d)(1) (2009)) remain intact and new protections prohibit discrimination against health care facilities and health care providers because of an unwillingness to provide, pay for, provide coverage of, or refer for abortions.

Numerous executive agencies have a role in ensuring that these restrictions are enforced, including the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS), the Office of Management and Budget (OMB), and the Office of Personnel Management (OPM).

Section 2. Strict Compliance with Prohibitions on Abortion Funding in Health Insurance Exchanges. The Act specifically prohibits the use of tax credits and cost-sharing reduction payments to pay for abortion services (except in cases of rape or incest, or when the life of the woman would be endangered) in the health insurance exchanges that will be operational in 2014. The Act also imposes strict payment and accounting requirements to ensure that Federal funds are not used for abortion services in exchange plans (except in cases of rape or incest, or when the life of the woman would be endangered) and requires state health insurance commissioners to ensure that exchange plan funds are segregated by insurance companies in accordance with generally accepted accounting principles, OMB funds management circulars, and accounting guidance provided by the Government Accountability Office.

I hereby direct the Director of OMB and the Secretary of HHS to develop, within 180 days of the date of this Executive Order, a model set of segregation guidelines for state health insurance commissioners to use when determining whether exchange plans are complying with the Act's segregation requirements, established in Section 1303 of the Act, for enrollees receiving Federal financial assistance. The guidelines shall also offer technical information that states should follow to conduct independent regular audits of insurance companies that participate in the health insurance exchanges. In developing these model guidelines, the Director of OMB and the Secretary of HHS shall consult with executive agencies and offices that have relevant expertise in accounting principles, including, but not limited to, the Department of the Treasury, and with the Government Accountability Office. Upon completion of those model guidelines, the Secretary of HHS should promptly initiate a rulemaking to issue regulations, which will have the force of law, to interpret the Act's segregation requirements, and shall provide guidance to state health insurance commissioners on how to comply with the model guidelines.

Section 3. Community Health Center Program.

The Act establishes a new Community Health Center (CHC) Fund within HHS, which provides additional Federal funds for the community health center program. Existing law prohibits these centers from using federal funds to provide abortion services (except in cases of rape or incest, or when the life of the woman would be endangered), as a result of both the Hyde Amendment and longstanding regulations containing the Hyde language. Under the Act, the Hyde language shall apply to the authorization and appropriations of funds for Community Health Centers under section 10503 and all other relevant provisions. I hereby direct the Secretary of HHS to ensure that program administrators and recipients of Federal funds are aware of and comply with the limitations on abortion services imposed on CHCs by existing law. Such actions should include, but are not limited to, updating Grant Policy Statements that accompany CHC grants and issuing new interpretive rules.

Section 4. General Provisions.

(a) Nothing in this Executive Order shall be construed to impair or otherwise affect: (i) authority granted by law or presidential directive to an agency, or the head thereof; or (ii) functions of the Director of the Office of Management and Budget relating to budgetary, administrative, or legislative proposals.

(b) This Executive Order shall be implemented consistent with applicable law and subject to the availability of appropriations.

(c) This Executive Order is not intended to, and does not, create any right or benefit, substantive or procedural, enforceable at law or in equity against the United States, its departments, agencies, entities, officers, employees or agents, or any other person.

THE WHITE HOUSE

The Health Care Bill

I make it a point not to discuss politics in my Country Parson blog. However, the health care bill being rammed through Congress is not a political issue: it is a moral one.

The obvious issue is abortion. What I have read about the bill (though I have not read the bill itself) is consistent with the bill's strongest proponents, President Obama, Nancy Pelosi, and Harry Reid. That consistency is that the unborn are not protected human life. Unborn children are only valuable as experimental medical commodities. These three see no harm in aborting children and they are hard pressed to find a reason to protect them in a federally-funded health care bill.

This is an unfortunate fact of life for we who support life, especially for the unborn. From the top, the three most powerful positions in the U.S. government are admitted, confessed, and practicing pro-abortionists. We can only pray for them, for their repentance, and keep our voices heard. (And we can thank God for pro-life representatives and the stand they take against the Abortionist-in-Chief and his lackeys.)

There are other issues, too. Health care coverage for unmarried adult couples, especially homosexual couples, is in the bill. I'm not opposed to homosexuals having health care coverage. I am opposed to homosexual marriage and to homosexual couples having benefits of marriage.

And, for that matter, non-married heterosexual couples shouldn't have the benefits of marriage, either. Maybe since "shacking up" has become the norm in our culture this seems harsh. But the Truth is that marriage is marriage, and without vows made between a man and woman before God, there is no marriage.

A more grievous threat is the creeping shadow of euthanasia. While over-simplified as 'death panels', the fact remains that the health care bill allows the government to choose who gets what benefits. The comparison is made to private companies which do, essentially, the same thing. The key difference is that we have a choice about private companies with which we conduct business. We do not have a choice when the federal government is involved.

Like abortion, euthanasia's only significant benefit is financial. Rather than protecting life in its latter years, the cost of care is placed in the balance on one side with human life on the other. Keeping terminally ill people comfortable and dignified as they die is certainly the moral option. However, making a decision about how much care is given based on the cost is patently immoral. The Obama-Pelosi-Reid bill is only cost conscious.

Another moral issue is the role of government. The government is not a moral institution; it is a social institution. The health care bill makes moral decisions ad nauseum. It is pro-abortion and anti-marriage. It is also condescending to the individual rights of Americans to lead their own lives without government interference. It increases taxes. It limits personal freedom. It is extra-Constitutional (in fact it is supra-Constitutional).

These Trojan horse issues are a direct threat to the Church. Christian doctors and nurses who oppose abortion may be forced to commit the act because it is federally insured. Hospitals run by Christian denominations would be in the same boat. They could be compelled to allow patients to die because of financial concerns rather than providing decent end-of-life care.

Just as important is the potential for government censorship of the pulpits of those who disagree with the government. If free, taxpayer funded abortion is the law of the land, what becomes of the voice of dissent? If benefits for non-married couples are acceptable to the government, what about those of us who support marriage?

It is imperative to pray for President Obama, Congressman Pelosi and Senator Reid. It is important to pray for our nation that we may find true moral high ground and an ethical, upright way to provide health care for those most needful of it.

The Cross: More Questions that Answers

Today is the Third Sunday of Great Lent, the Adoration of the Holy Cross. Today's message is in keeping with the Lenten theme for 2010, "For All Things We Know and For All Things We Do Not Know." This theme is taken from our Eucharistic liturgy, and recalls for us that we may trust and thank God for what we know in this life, and for things we simply can't or don't know.

Gospel: Mark 8:31-9:1

When I was a boy, I went to St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Elyria, Ohio. It is one of those downtown Churches that sits on the courthouse square. As a boy, I thought the steeple was the tallest structure I had ever seen. Atop the steeple is a gold cross.

I remember asking my grandfather how on earth they kept that cross so shiny. I remember being a persistent questioner when I was little and my grandfather was an ornery answerer. He told me that the Church had a monkey that had been trained to polish the cross each week. The priest would put the monkey on his leash and let him climb to the top of the steeple to do his duty.

(Deep down, I still believe this story.)

Having questions about the Cross is the beginning of understanding the reality of the Cross.

There are "physical questions" about the Cross:
* How tall was the Cross? * Where was the Cross? * How common was crucifixion? * Why was Jesus nailed and the others tied to the Cross? * How could this have happened to Jesus Christ, Who was so good?

There are "intellectual questions" about the Cross. Many have seen detailed descriptions of crucifixion that are popular this time of year. Movies like The Passion provide depictions of crucifixion in graphic detail. People raise the issue of Jesus Christ’s ‘unfair’ trial.

There are "emotional questions" we ask. Why would God require the Cross of His own Son? How could they have been so mean to Christ Who was so good? Wasn’t there another way besides His death?

I imagine these are the sorts of questions Jesus Christ and the Apostles were discussing in Mark 8:31-32: "He then began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and after three days rise again. He spoke plainly about this, and Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him."

We may find ourselves in the place of St. Peter. He knew that “for all the things he knew” he didn’t want those things to happen to Jesus Christ. Why? Because Jesus Christ was his friend, his co-worker, his mentor. He loved Him. Why would anyone want to see terrible things happen to anyone they are close to?

When facing a trial in our own lives, how often do we react like St. Peter? We don't want the pain. We don't want the suffering. We don't want the cross.

Jesus Christ rebuked his friend in verse 33: "Get behind me, Satan! You do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men."

St. Peter encountered what he did not know.
- The Cross and its consequent salvation are God’s matters to provide.
- The Cross and its affect are matters of “mystery,” and we don't usually like mystery.
- The way of the Cross is not a matter of human will, but of Divine purpose.

The Lord knew that St. Peter is very much like ourselves. We want to provide our own way of salvation. We want to work it own in a manner that suits us. We don’t like ‘mystery’: we want reality, we want answers. We like the Divine purpose as long as it doesn’t run against our own purposes and directions.

For all the questions St. Peter and the other Apostles had, Jesus Christ answered the questions they didn’t ask – the Spiritual questions about the Cross.

"If anyone would come after Me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for Me and for the Gospel will save it. What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?"

The Lord clarifies for St. Peter, the other Apostles, and for his other hearers that following Him is a matter of taking up your own cross. Your cross may be a life experience that is hard to bear, the results of a poor decision you made that has long-term effects, or even a condition that you had nothing to do with.

What Jesus Christ is saying is that following Him is a matter of losing your life in order to gain it. There are many people who spend their whole lives trying to gain success, material wealth, and pushing their way to "the top" who end up lonely and spiritually destitute.

He underscores the fact that following Him may bring on shame in this life, but reward in the next. We have little to be ashamed of as Christians in this country. There is no arm in wearing a cross here. But think of the Christians in Tehran, or Beijing, or Darfur, or any of the Moslem nations where Christianity is illegal. Those saints have learned what it is to bear the Cross in the face of shame.

This Sunday of Adoration of the Holy Cross, what questions of do you have? Take a moment with your own cross in your hand and reflect on these ideas:
+ What is the cross you are carrying?
+ Have you truly lost your life – or have you simply let God borrow it for a while?
+ Has the Cross been an issue of shame or embarrassment to you? Why or why not?

Going Public with Resolutions: The Hard Truth

On Jan. 2, 2009 I made some public New Year's Resolutions. How did I do? Here's a scorecard. My resolutions from last year are in italics.

"First, I'm making two personal resolutions... to taper down my television viewing to just one hour a day... The second personal resolution is to get my 50 year old physical and track my health better..."

Well, I have cut down on TV, but not as much as I'd like. One hour a day? I missed that by a long shot. But I generally turn the TV off by 11 p.m., which is a great start.

I did get my 50 year old physical. The numbers were good last April, but I've blimped up again. Sounds like time for a 'lose weight' resolution! The best thing I did for my personal health this year was to quit caffeine. I highly recommend it.

"Next ...two professional resolutions for my work at Timbercrest... finish the paperwork necessary for my National Certification... to take all my vacation time. And comp time..."

No and no. And no excuses. I simply haven't done either one.

"Next... two professional resolutions as pastor of Peoria Church... try and better equip Church members for the disciplines of living the Christian life... [take]better care of myself spiritually..."

Well, I have been trying to address the needs for spiritual discipline in my messages, and this fall I preached a topical series on "Why We Do What We Do." Taking better care of myself spiritually has been more up than down. My prayer life is OK, and I attended the Moody Bible Institute Pastor's Conference in May. in general, I'd give myself a B- with a lot of room to improve.

"Finally... two resolutions relating to Karen... to be more open to her needs for quiet time... to keep up with the garden this year."

I haven't asked Karen how I've done on the first one, but I feel as if I've done better. The second one was much better. We had a little help from the ice storm last year which killed three large pines in our yard, which cleared some space.

I'm working on resolutions for 2010. I'll share those in a few days.

That Tune that Gets Stuck in Your Head (Thanksgiving)

One of the downsides of being married to a preschool teacher is that she comes home singing these little ditties that are aimed to teach four year olds. Usually, the tune is familiar and whistleable. But after running around in the cranium for four days straight, it gets old.

Such it is with a little Thanksgiving tune Karen has taught her children:

"I am thankful for my friends
And my family,
Thankful for the food I eat
And thankful to be me."
(Tune: Row, Row, Row Your Boat)

To help kids' retention, Karen uses sign language for the motions. So, not only have I found myself chasing that little song around my head, I have hand motions to go with it.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I'd like to put into practice what I've learned from this little song. I'm not entirely self-less in this. My hope is that getting this out of my system will shake it out of my brain, too.

"I am thankful for my friends . . ."

You know, I have so many friends, of varying degrees. I tend to be skittish about being to close to too many, consequently, I am comfortably close to a lot of people. My very closest friends know who they are, and I am thankful for them.

I am thankful to have so many friends. There are plenty of people who have few, if any. I work full-time in a retirement community and I would consider almost all the residents there to be a friend to one degree or another. The people who live here are so caring and kind and rarely speak a "discouraging word." The people at Church are good friends: people who pray for me and with me, who care about what's going on in my life, who take an interest in the things I'm interested in.

It would be literally impossible to list friends here without alienating some, so I'm only going to cite two examples. I'm not sure why these come to mind, but they do.

The first is an old high school friend named Rich. I hadn't seen or heard from Rich since graduation until we reconnected on Facebook several months ago. He and his family went to the Church I went to then and he always had a way of encouraging me and making me laugh. I really enjoyed Rich's father, James/Jim, also. (Whether it was James or Jim doesn't really matter: I always called him Mr. Xxxxx.)

After all those years - 33+ now - you might think that I'd think of Rich less as a friend and more of a renewed acquantaince. There is some truth to that, except that it seems to me that Rich is the same guy he was in high school. He has worked, married, reared a family, and now is a grandpa. And as I read his Facebook page about his exploits with his family, I see the qualities that I appreciated about Rich's Dad coming to life through him. But that's exactly what you'd expect from the Rich I knew in high school.

Another is a friend I haven't seen for a long time, Harry. Harry is in his mid-80's now and recently lost his wife, Lorraine. Shortly after Karen and I moved to Indiana, Harry and Lorraine moved to Ocala, Florida. We've kept up spotty contacts over the years, but Harry and I are one of those friendships that just picks up where you last left it. Lives change, people change, and many things happen in between, but when we talk, it's like we never stopped talking.

When Harry was telling me about Lorraine's death, I couldn't stop crying. She was one of the most beautiful, caring people I ever knew. She was taken by Alzheimer's Disease. Through it all, Harry told me, she never forgot him. Even when she couldn't recall anyone else, she remembered Harry. That's what makes true friendship, doesn't it? No matter how grim things become, you remember who your friends are.

"I am thankful for my friends
And my family . . ."

There are three sides to family and I'm thankful for all three sides. The first side is my own family, the one Karen and I created in June 1981. We expanded it in 1985 and 1988 to include our kids. There has been no greater joy in my life than to be with my own family and I'm thankful for them.

I'm thankful for marriage. A friend of mine once said that "in order to be successful in marriage, you have to like the idea of being married." This is absolutely true. It is a value that Karen and I deeply share. For all the quirks we each have (I have them in spades), this underlying foundation of love for one another and our enjoyment of each other has made marriage our mutual blessing.

The second side of family is the family that reared me. Mom's been gone ten years now and my brothers and sister are scattered to the four winds. We got together for the first time since Mom died last June. I was amazed that, in spite of our widely divergent paths, we acted like brothers and sister once more.

A specific blessing for which I am thankful is a reconciled relationship with my Dad. He and I haven't always been close. In fact, there have been silent periods between us that lasted for years. Nothing direct mind you: our family has always played "passive aggressive" like champions.

That was until Mom died. In her death I came to terms with the fact that life is too short to be estranged from loved ones, especially my Dad. I let go of grudges that weren't mine to carry. I set aside my own expectations that were juvenile and impossible. The result has been a relationship with Dad that is healthier and more relaxed than ever.

The third side of family is the family I married into. Karen and I were opposites when we got married: I'm the oldest child, she's the youngest; my parents were 21 when I was born, her Mom was 35 and her Dad was 39 when she was born; I was a city boy, she was/is a country girl. For a long time Karen's family had the veneer of people without problems. My family had problems for as long as I could remember.

I am thankful for Karen's Mom and Dad and for the example of a solid, life-long marriage they provided for me, especially when we were newlyweds. I am thankful for her Dad because I had never met any one who worked in a factory before knowing him. I never really knew a farmer, either. I am thankful for my mother-in-law, who had the wisdom to teach Karen how to be a good wife and Mother.

My greatest appreciation for Karen's family, especially her Mom and Dad, is their faith. Karen's Dad was someone whose life had been transformed by the Gospel. Living for God was more than a passion for him: it simply was who he was. There were really no questions about things like going to Church or working on Sunday or which of the bad words were OK. He lived his life accountable to God and, if you could peek at his final marks, I suspect you'd see that he got into Heaven with all A's.

"I am thankful for my friends
And my family,
Thankful for the food I eat . . ."

Perhaps too thankful. My adult life has been fraught with one diet after the other. I've been up and down and up and down on the scale, though more up than down as my latter years have settled in. Other than a few minor health concerns, my weight doesn't really get to me.

This is good because I am really thankful for food. I am thankful that I married a great cook. Here are some specific thing Karen makes that I am thankful for:
- Mediterranean pasta: this is a cream based pasta with nuts that costs a couple hundred calories just to smell
- Those oatmeal cookies from the Swiss Pantry cookbook: a happy reminder of our years in Berne (pass the milk, please)
- Chicken with long grain rice: Although this certainly raises both blood pressure and cholesterol, it is also one of the tastiest things I've ever put in my mouth
- Secret recipe chicken marinade: She says it's only Worcestershire and vinegar, but I know better, and when the chicken comes off the grill, mmmm-mmmmm
- Sugar Cream Pie: Not like those store pies, this is the real deal - real cream, real sugar, and not much else (I'm drooling)
- Chili: Chili is supposed to be a man's domain, but Karen makes chili that puts men to shame - we have to sleep in separate rooms after we have it :-)
- Salmon on the Grill: Again, she says she doesn't do anything special to the salmon, but how does it happen that hers is better that anyone's?
- Steaks: Without fail, when I have a steak in a restaurant I leave wishing that I had simply been at home with one Karen made
- Green Salad: Maybe its the big wooden bowl, I don't know, but Karen's mixed green salads complemented by her always unique blend of ingredients are the bomb
- Peppermint Trifle: Another simple secret recipe that leaves you begging for more

I could go on, but now my stomach's growling. I'll never finish if I don't move on to:

". . .thankful to be me."

I don't put a lot of stock in "being me." I know who I am and I know what I'm capable of, and it isn't very good. I know that I'm selfish and bigoted and often Pharisaical. I'm not so thankful for my moods, my temper, and my self-indulgence.

It would be more accurate to say that I'm thankful for who I am in Christ. I am thankful that God didn't reject a sinful man like me and leave me to wallow in my sins. I am thankful that He saw me for who I could be, not for who I am. I am thankful every day that God gives me hope and optimism and grace and those things trump the wickedness I'm so prone to.

Thanks for reading this. I hope maybe I've helped you to be thankful for all you enjoy at this Thanksgiving.

And maybe I've passed this little song on so it can run around your head for a while:

I am thankful for my friends
And my family,
Thankful for the food I eat
And thankful to be me.

"Only 72" - a little perspective

A woman came to my office today to talk about her neice.

"She's developed a rare form of Parkinson's disease. It's in her hands now but will be spreading fast. If you have a moment, will you pray for her? She's only 72."

That's right: "Only 72."

You see, the woman who came to my office (the woman with Parkinson's aunt) is 93. She's an active member of Rotary, her Church, and life in the retirement community where I work. She doesn't drive anymore, but she gets around like no one's business.

To her, 72 is a spring chicken.

We have nine people who live here who are over 100 years old - their average age is 102 and five months. When I'm not being pastor (at the moment), knowing these old folks gives me a different view of the world. It gives me hope.

There are 92 people who live here who are over 90 years old. Far and away most of them are in good health, living mostly independently. In fact, seven of them live in our on-campus condominiums, completely independent.

The fact that I work around so many people who are so full of health for so many years has given me a few perspectives on my own health and happiness.

First, I need to quit worrying about so much. The other day I was with a 102 year old man taking him on an errand. I was a little late picking him up at the store. I apologized for my lateness and he said, "You know, life's too short to worry about little things like that. Besides, time is something I have plenty of."

He's right. I hope when I'm 102 I can say with confidence, "time is something I have plenty of."

Hopefully, I'm learning to worry about the 'big things' and let go of what I can't deal with. Someone I love is in the hospital - that's a big worry. Can't get reception on the TV - no big deal. The less I worry about, the better view I have of life.

One of our centenarians (I'll call her Carolyn) worries about very little. She walks with a cane now, but she still walks. The cane she uses is a beautiful black polished piece of wood with a well-worn brass duck's head on the top. The cane belonged to her grandmother. :-)

Carolyn drove until she was 99. She is now 104+. She told me once, "I want to get stopped for speeding sometime so I can see the look on the officer's face when he sees I was born in 1905." You gotta love a woman like that.

Anyhow, Carolyn was in one of our dining rooms having a late breakfast - it was about 9:30 a.m. Defying all conventional wisdom, she sat at her table with a plate in front of her with two eggs over easy, four strips of bacon, a hearty serving of hashbrown potatoes, toast with real butter, a cup of real coffee. As I approached her, she was shaking salt over her breakfast like there was no tomorrow.

"Carolyn," I said, "I wish I could use salt like that. But you know . . ."

"They told me that too over the years," she replied, "But you know what? I like salt."

And that was that. She didn't worry about what all the doctors and magazines said. She liked to salt her eggs. At 104 I say "more power to her."

Second, I need to be healthy. Most of our 90 year olds are from the pre-smoking, pre-drinking generation of life. Smoking is prohibited on our campus here and a vast majority of our folks don't drink. Those who do drink don't drink much more than wine or an occasional beer.

They also have lifelong healthy habits. They garden. They walk. They read good books. They keep informed about current events. They go to Church regularly and have strong personal devotional lives. Many of them still play musical instruments or a hobby that they enjoy. These are lifelong, healthy habits.

I need to be more healthy. Carolyn's salt habit not withstanding, she, and others in the 90+ age group learned a few things through their lives. They learned to enjoy walking where they could. They learned to do without in the Great Depression. They learned to work for what they had before paying for it - rather than getting swallowed in debt they couldn't pay afterwards.

Even their recreation was healthier. These folks played baseball - they didn't have satellite with a dozen channels of baseball to watch. These people went camping in tents, building fires, hunting and fishing and all thay - they didn't travel place to place in a $250,000 RV with all the amenities of home. They were leaders, builders, donors, and workers. And when they were done, they went home - not to a bar, not to a club, not to other distractions - because home was where their hearts were.

Third, these people really enjoy living. Every day is a new adventure. Everyday they get out of bed with a list of things to do, people to see, wishes to fulfill. They love their families and they enjoy their friends.

These folks have taught me that part of the joy of living to be 90 and 100 is simply to accept the joy of every day.

Finally, our 90+ and 100+ gang has taught me that aging is truly only a state of mind. No one is going to prevent wrinkles or compromised immune systems or greying hair or muscle shrinkage or any of the other 'benefits' of aging, so why try to fight it?

When we're kids, we go through a whole lot more changes in our bodies, minds, and souls than we do as adults. But even in our adult years we change. Through the parenting years and the empty nest years, our bodies adapt to whatever comes our way.

Why should we think that aging would be any different? Yes, joints weaken, circulation slows, breathing becomes more difficult, etc. But why can't we accept that this is as much a natural part of our lives as learning how to balance on a bicylce or develping a mind to attend college or anything else?

Our older older adults remind me that it's healthiest and best to take life in stride and accept what comes your way instead of trying to fight it. There's no harm in growing older . . . and it sure beats the alternative.

Core Values

I get newsletters from several Churches. Most of them are from congregations served by men I know who are their pastors. Some of them I get for work so that we can arrange to get residents to community events. Some I get just because I'm curious about what goes on in other Churches.

Yesterday, I got a newsletter from a Church in North Manchester that made me think about something I haven't thought about for a long time: "core values." "Five Core Values" of that Church were listed on the title page (and re-stated on the inside of the newsletter). They were what the pastor and congregation had determined to be what gives that Church meaning and purpose.

When I visited the congregation's website, the core values were listed there. In addition, the Church's vision for itself and its philosophy of renewal were given.

I know this pastor fairly well, and although he and I are worlds apart in ministry style and approach, I think he and I are on the same page when it comes to the fact that a Church without vision, without values, and without a philosophy of spiritual life, is a Church that is stagnant and lifeless.

So, I got to thinking: What is my vision for Peoria Church? What are our core values? What is our philosophy of spiritual life?


First, vision. My vision for Peoria Church is that our Church would be a place of worship and prayer, a sanctuary for worshiping God in a busy and tempting world and an oasis for personal and corporate prayer in an otherwise noisy world. My vision is that we would be the people of God in our corner of the world, wherever that might be: at home, at work, at school, in public and in private. My vision is that we would not be shy about understanding God's Word as it applies to our own lives and to the life of the world around us.

How about that? :-)


Next, core values. Following this other Church's lead, I'll list five values I think are important to Peoria Church (and believe it or not, not one of them has to do with Church dinners). :-)

1) Knowing God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, is the highest aim of life. We are made in God's image and through faith in Him, that image is restored to us. We are made whole from the damages of sin by God's saving action in the Incarnation, Life, Baptism, Transfiguration, Suffering, Crucifixion, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus Christ. We bear the fruits of the Holy Spirit and exercise His gifts as He empowers us.

2) Being Christian is something we take seriously. This doesn't mean we are stuffy or humorless - far from it. At the same time, we know God and we see Him at work in our lives in many ways. We don't have all the answers about faith, but we know that the Holy Spirit will guide us into all wisdom, if we seek Him. The old saying is certainly true: "Only one life, 'twill soon be past; only what's done for Christ will last."

3) None of us is perfect and we understand that about each other. We see everyone as equally valuable in God's sight, and that the Church is a place of healing for sinners as much as it is a household of the saints.

4) Generosity is shown through actions as well as through giving. God has been tremendously generous with us and we enjoy many blessings in our lives. We want to extend God's generosity to us to our families, friends, neighbors, and those in the community who are in need.

5) By honoring men and women of faith who have gone before us, we remember who we are and where we are going. Whether it's loved ones we have known well or the ancestors of Peoria Church or the saints of the ages, we understand that we are part of an ageless journey that is 'marching to Zion'.

Those are pretty lofty values, aren't they?


Finally, philosophy of spiritual life. St. Paul told our Christian ancestors: "If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit" (Gal. 5:25). There is a three-fold balance in living out the Christian life, comprised of relationship, religion, and responsibility.

"Relationship" involves a living relationship with the living God and a vital relationship with God's people. We cannot live the Christian life as if we were on an island. A relationship with God implies a relationship with everyone else who has a relationship with Him. Our corporate relationship with God is expressed through the Sacraments. Baptism marks the beginning of our life in Christ. Chrismation indicates the seal and commitment of the Holy Spirit to us. Holy Communion is our fellowship with one another around the Lord's Table, with the Lord Himself as Host. In marriage, a man and woman model the relationship that is "betwixt Christ and His Church." With the 'laying on of hands' our relationship with one another is demonstrated in prayer.

"Religion" is the acting out of our faith. A relationship with God is incomplete without religion. Religion is expressed in regular habits of prayer, Bible reading, Christian service, Church attendance and participation, and other activity that glorifies God. Good religion challenges our own spiritual complacency, and shines as a light in a dark world.

"Responsibility" gives spiritual life perspective. Who is responsible for our salvation? God Himself. We are responsible to God through living "in response" to Him. All facets of our lives are a gift from God and we respond to God with thanksgiving and supplication, that His will would be done "on earth as it is in Heaven." We are responsible to love one another as Christ has loved us, not in a manner that would govern each others' lives, but in a manner that would allow us to walk together arm in arm.



There you have it. A vision for our Church. Five Core Values. And a Philosophy of Spiritual Life.

What do you think?

The Last Serious Creationist?

I've never felt compelled to explain why I believe that God made the world in six days (and rested on the seventh). That's not what this particular blog entry is about.

I've also never been able to put my finger on why I think the evolutionists are fabricating things, but I do. There's something in my gut that just tells me everytime that they're pulling the wool over peoples' eyes. That is what this particular blog entry is about.

I think some of it must have to do with my sense of where I belong in the world. I'm perfectly content to believe that God, in His infinite and incomprehensible wisdom, made me (and everyone else) and everything I can see (and cannot see). It's never occurred to me that I might be the center of the universe, or that I might somehow be the top of the line in an abstract evolutionary cycle, or that my own ego would ever swell to a size that would leave no room for the existence of God.

It's not that I'm uneducated. I have a good brain and I study constantly. I've read many things about evolution and it just seems fake. False. Untrue.

Don't get me wrong: I understand the whole billions of years hypotheses and all that goes with it. I understand that observable changes in cell structure happen all the time. I know that species go extinct all the time, whether by human intervention or by natural selection. I know that many scientists say that evolution is indisputable, proven, and beyond doubt.

That's really not the point, is it?

The point is that evolution doesn't really explain the very real facets of living that really matter. Evolution has no satisfactory explanation for why men and women fall in love. Evolution has no system of identifying the innate, intangible aspects of life: wisdom, understanding, grief, pentitence, gratitude, etc. These experiences are the real 'substance' of life.

Scientists create models and systems that are, in a word, self-auditing. With no one to answer to but themselves, those who believe in evolution check the development of the species against data that they create themselves. It's like letting the students determine their own grading scale.

How old is that fossil? "Dating methods" say a million years.

Oh? And how were the dating methods derived? "Well, we collected the data and analyzed it and compared it to processes we are able to calculate in a laboratory."

And how were the processes determined? "Well, you see, we believe that it must have taken this much time for that particular reaction to occur, based on our mathmatical calculations."

And who came up with the math? "The best university scholars available."

Doesn't this seem fishy to anyone else? Am I the only one to question this?

This self-presumptive evaluation process has, in less than 200 years, postured itself to be beyond question. "No one" questions evolution any more and the millions of Americans (and others arond the world) who do not, are presumed by the self-presumptives to be less than informed, a little dull, or, simply ignorant.

In such a way, evolution has become like the stone idols of yesteryear, who reign without answering. Evolution's indifference to intelligent dialog is just one more wood-carved Asherah pole on the hillside. God invites seekers . . . why is evolution immune from questioning?

All of the systems and models of evolution try to explain biological and geological functions, without approaching any meaningful understanding of anything to do with the spirit.

To me, this is the great and significant flaw in evolution. To those who believe in it, life is merely the collective biological experience of plants, animals, and humans. They are not merely wrong on this: they are dead wrong.

What difference does it make how old the rocks are if we can't understand the part of a man that makes him want to take up arms against his neighbor?

What good is the science that doesn't comprehend the idylls of poetry, the lofty airs of good music, or the warm affection of an embrace?

Is science worth a stitch if it doesn't find value in redemption of souls, forgiveness of sins, or reconciliation of adversaries?

Another significant error, consistent with many evolutionists, is their denial of a Being that is larger than human experience. Very often, atheism and evolution walk hand-in-hand. (I know this isn't universally true, but it is very often the case.)

It's not so much denial as it is 'dancing around'. In every book I've read, every film I've seen, every TV show I've watched on the subject - and even those that deal with evolution on the periphery - they make statements like this:
"After 10 million years living in the swampland, the species developed feathers and flew to the trees."

"The species developed"? How do they do that? Corporately? Through trial and error? After careful analysis of the situation? Voting?

Of course, this also depends on whether the aforementioned swampland remains the same over that same 10 million year period, which, according to evolutionists, would be very unlikely. It depends on the lifespan of the species in question. And, for example, if it were the lifespan of some [imagined] precursor to the cat, it would still take 500,000 generations of cats to make this change . . . 500,000 generations of an animal that is unable to communicate memory or history beyond its own immediate circumstances.

Is there some greater force at work? Something that guides those species to adapt?

Well, that can't be, if there is no God, can it?

Yet, according to the evolutionists, this is somehow magically able to happen. I'm not sure how if there is no supernatural, and since evolution is beyond question, I dare not ask.

To me, it's easier - and more believable - to understand that God made the universe in six days. No explanation required. It's a matter of faith.

But faith is one of those things that science can't explain, either. :-)

Hoosierisms

I was in the old Marsh Store in Portland, Ind., would have been about 1990. Karen was at home with the kids and I was doing the grocery shopping.

In the produce department, I was looking at apples and not finding a price, I asked the attendant simply: "How much are them apples?"

Ack!

In my mind I replayed those last few words. Did I really say "them apples"?

I had.

Then it dawned on me . . .Since I moved to Indiana in 1984, I've picked up a little bit of the Hoosier dialect.

Indiana English is an interesting amalgam of cultures and voices. I think there are subtelties of the ancient Indiana languages that underlay our history: quiet murmurings and innuendos that you have to be part of to understand.

There is the German influence: until World War I, German was the second most commonly spoken language here, and even then, most of them didn't give it up willingly. Until the mid-90's, the public radio station in Fort Wayne still ran it's weekly "Die Deutsche Stunde" - the German Hour. (Many Hoosiers may no longer speak German, but they're Germans at heart.)

Another big influence on Indiana English is Mountain English, as in Kentucky mountains. In the depression, many unemployed southerners (including my in-laws) made their way to Indiana to work in the automobile factories, which became munitions plants in World War II. In addition to the auto industry, later developments in recreational vehicles, steel, and other heavy manufacturing gave rise to many opportunities.

Here are some examples:
"I've ate . . ." - Excuse me? In the rest of the English speaking world, one 'has eaten' something. However, I can't tell you the number of times I hear Hoosiers say, "I've ate three pieces of pie."

"You'ns . . ." - I think this is a carry over from those Germans I mentioned earlier. People tell me that 'you'ns' is common in Pennsylvania, too, which tends to make me think this way.

"Hamburger sandwich" - When I told my Dad that people in Indiana often say "Hamburger sandwich" I thought he was going to have to come up for air.

"Chili soup" - Like 'hamburger sandwich', "chili soup" demonstrates the wonderful Hoosier flair for redundancy.

"State Road ___" - Yes, you are certain to identify yourself as an outsider if you say "State Route". 'Routes' are federal roads - Washington intrusions into the Hoosier heartland. Save yourself a lecture next time you drive through here - ask for the State Road [Number].

"Fast time" - For now, daylight saving time is the law of the land here. However, you will find many Hoosiers pining for "slow time" - the good old days of year 'round standard time. Daylight saving time is still referred to as 'fast time' in many quarters: even those who may not use the term know exactly what it means.

"Off-Ten" - I do it, too, now. I was reared to keep the T silent in "often." Those lessons were all in vain. There are Hoosiers who mute the T in public, but in private conversation, just listen carefully.

Dangling "at" - You know: "Where is my coat at?" or "Where did you eat at?" or "What time does that start at?" Most Hoosierisms don't bug me, but this one gets me every time . . . and I'm as guilty as anyone for using it!

"[Ten] a.m. in the morning" - Everyone does this in Indiana . . . just this morning on three separate TV stations, on each channel the weather man said, in effect, "It will start to cloud over around ten a.m. in the morning." It doesn't matter that a.m. already means "in the morning" (or that p.m. already means "in the evening"). More Hoosier redundancy.

There are more! Send any along to me - you know where I'm at!

How do you tell someone . . .?

I regularly travel to the Land of Oblivion. It's that quiet land where one is unaware of his or her actions, even when they're embarassing, and goes their merry way thinking nothing of potential social infractions.

With that in mind, I was presented with a dilemma at dinner today. When I first heard the lip smacking, open-mouthed crunching, and speech garbled by partially chewed food, I had to do a self-check.

Was it me? No. (I doubled checked, just to make sure.)

Instead, it was the man I was dining with, an incoming resident to the retirement community where I work. This man was very successful in life: a good, long marriage, financial prosperity, a beautiful home, very strong health into his later years, etc. Even in the little Chinese restaurant we were in, he was wearing a jacket and tie and cuff links. (I was in work pants and a polo shirt.)

How could someone so successful in life make it as far as this guy had without realizing that he chewed like a starved alligator going after a tuna-stuffed house pet?

That got me to thinking even further: How do you tell someone like that about their obvious (to everyone else) social infraction?

What about these social infractions?
A booger dangling. Karen has a code for me: "There's a bat in the cave." But what about someone who doesn't know the code?

Dribbles. Not on your chin . . . lower. No, not on your shirt . . . lower. You know, middle-aged man comes out of the restroom with dribbles, you know, um, there. (Karen has no code for me on this one.)

Halitosis. I am acutely aware of my own halitosis, thanks to 28 years of training from Karen. But the other guy? What do you do when he refuses a piece of gum? (Please note, according to my sources, women do not have bad breath.)

Unbuttoned belly-button. You've seen the guy with the over-sized belly, looking all dapper with his short tie and that tuft of belly hair sitcking out where the fourth button ought to be. What do you say - if anything?

Fumes. I write this not only as a traveler in Oblivion, but also as a connoiseur of all things cabbage: cole slaw, sauerkraut, cooked cabbage, etc. I don't notice my own 'fumes' (as Karen reminds me), but how does one broach the subject with other cabbage - and legume - lovers.

Runners (in panty hose). Oops. This happens to women. Can't say anything.

You get the idea. How can you be tactful in these situations?

Your ideas may help me, and other citizens of Oblivion, to get a better grip on our lives. Thanks!

Work Junkie: It's Hard to Rest

Twice in our married life Karen has bought me hammocks. With visions of lazy afternoons in the back yard, sleeping with a book on my chest, I've opened them with enthusiasm, only to set the hammock aside for 'another day'.

In my library I have stacks of books that I hope to read 'when I get the time'.

When Mom died ten years ago, I kept bags full of her unfinished projects - rugs, knitting, needlepoint, etc. - for that day, some time, somewhere, in my spare time, that I would learn how to hook rugs, knit, and needlepoint, to finish those projects in tribute to her.

These are just a few examples of one of my major character flaws: I'm a work junkie.

I'm not a work-aholic. The workaholic is that Type A guy you know who's always on the phone and never stops talking about work. A workaholic seems to work constantly in spite of himself: making lists, late nights at work (for work), eating on the run. He's always striving for the next big thing - house, car, second house, etc. - and yet never seems satisfied with those things.

No, that's not me. I'm a work junkie. I get a fix, a high, from working.

A work junkie enjoys work for work's sake. A workholic works to produce in a way that never satisfies him.

A work junkie gets a rush from his labors. A workaholic can't seem to stop, even though there's no real joy in his efforts.

A work junkie has heroes, like Thomas Jefferson and Thomas Edison, Henry Ford and Captain Thomas Lipton (of the Lipton Tea Co., who allegedly used to have 'work is fun' placed on the tags of all his products). A workaholic is his own hero, not striving to work for a nobler cause, but for himself.

I've caught myself on more than one occastion saying, "Work is fun."

Several years ago I bought a 'reel mower'. You know, the old fashioned kind you push that has a cylinder of curved blades that cuts the grass. Think Amish. Friends and neighbors thought it was so "green." Karen thought it was foolish. I just thought it was great hard work. And I used it until it broke and I couldn't fix it.

As a work junkie I find it hard to rest. I do rest, but I feel guilty about it. Even my entertainment is work related. When I go to movies, I always think about whether or not they'd be good for the folks at Church or at Timbercrest. I don't read novels (even though I've written one)... they don't help me with work. My preference on TV is for things that help me work: garden shows, cooking shows, how-to shows.

Even now, while I'm writing this, I hear my neighbors outside running a leaf blower and I think, "I need to get out and get busy."

I know I need to rest. My body is 51 years old now and I can't do what I used to do. I know that I need to make time for myself: my stress level and blood pressure will appreciate it. But it's hard.

I see so many things I want to do. I'd love to open my own business. I've thought of all sorts of businesses to start: a root beer brewery, an artisan mall, an events management company for classical and folk musicians, a radio variety show (like Prairie Home Companion) called "Roann Saturday Night," a nursing home that doesn't use medications (only diet, therapy, exercise, and natural treatments), a cemetery that only charges a minimal amount for a plot and everyone has the same stone, and any number of other ideas.

I'd love to be a philanthropist. I'd use my millions to open a high quality, free, private school for rural kids, that would focus on rural life skills, classical learning, and values important to sustain our rural culture (like, hard work). I'd build a community band stand in the park here in Roann so that all summer we could have all sorts of music playing each week for people to come and enjoy. I'd build a carillon out at Peoria Church so that in the summer evenings the bells would praise God over the rolling valley, and fishermen and farmers and children would stop and think about their souls.

Just thinking about all this work gets me jazzed.

It's hard to rest when you have all this going on in your head. So much work to do and so little time.

Which reminds me. Karen's spending the day on the river with some friends.
Alex is asleep on the davenport.
And I think I hear the garden calling.

Time to get to work.

Why City People Make Me Smile

A few weeks ago, Karen and I had the chance to visit our daughter in Colorado Springs. In case you haven't heard, besides Pike's Peak and the Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs is a pretty good size town - half a million people, by some counts.

We did lots of shopping and walking and eating and napping while Allison was at work. When we were in town, we were afforded lots of time for "people watching."

City people are funny. They are truly a different breed than we who enjoy the good life.

Consider this simple example: a friendly wave. In our neck of the woods, folks wave all the time. You see someone across the road, you wave. You're driving down a county road and come up on another driver, you wave. You drive by someone out working in their yard, you wave.

Not in the city.

I tried waving at some strangers while we were driving from the Denver Airport to "the Springs" and you would have thought I was waving a pistol at them.

We were shopping in Old Colorado City, an historic area of "the Springs." While Karen browsed in some of the endless women-only stores, I waited on one of the Husband Benches on the sidewalk. As I sat, I watched the passers-by. When someone would catch my eye - man, woman, child, dog - I'd just give them a little wave, my way of saying, "Howdy, I'm a visitor here."

You would have thought I had flashed them. (Ironically, I think if I had flashed someone in the city, they wouldn't have noticed.)

City people make me smile because they like to be pretentious. Karen and I have become dowdy, middle-aged Hoosiers, happy with ourselves, and, in Indiana, acting and appearing like many of our peers. All the falderol city-folks create to get you to eat in their place, shop in their store, visit their museum, and give up (lots) of your dollars is amusing.

You can't just buy a pizza in the city. You have to get an olive oil crust, with all sorts of "fromaggio" and sun-baked vegetables you never heard of. And pizza meat, where you can get it, isn't just pepperoni or sausage. There's cotechino, linguisa, salsiccia, cervellatina, salami, calabresse - not one thing produced by Jimmy Dean or Bob Evans.

It seems to me that Tony's in the freezer at the grocery is about as good.

Another bit of pretentiousness that amuses me is the lengths city folks seem to go to in order to look rural, or rustic, or country. Out here in corn country, old barns look weather-worn because they are. Folk art isn't necessarily intentional: it's what we do when we can't get any reception on our TV aerials.

And we raise beans, corn, tomatoes, onions, beets, cabbage, peas, and lettuce in our gardens. Sometimes green peppers. The surplus goes in canning jars, on shelves, in the basement.

In the city, they raise kholrabi and kale. They grow bok choi and purple carrots, endive and squash blossoms.

Organically.

Karen told Allison that she grew up with organic foods and Allison seemed to be amazed. "My Mom put the kitchen scraps on the garden because we didn't have a disposal. She didn't know she was composting. Dad put manure from the barns on the garden long before they began bagging it and getting $5 for 20 lbs."

Allison stood agape.

I get to the city once in a while here in Indiana. The contrast isn't quite as stark, but it's there.

Heaven forbid you should take your time to look at the beautiful buildings while you're driving on I-465 in Indianapolis. The city folks seem to be in such a hurry to get places.

It was in the city that I first encountered a "Pay Before You Pump" gas station. In Roann, the station doesn't even take credit cards - cash or check only. (Yes, a check. Remember those?)

Even Church in the city is different. Our neice, who goes to an Indianapolis "mega-Church" pointed it out to me.

On a visit to our Church, where she was singing a special, her young sons played and ran and got all sweaty in the Church basement with other kids from the Church who came. They colored with crayons, played with non-electric toys, and snuck cookies from the refreshment table, just like the other Church kids there.

At her Church, the kids and parents are given a number and ID's that stop just this side of facial recognition technology. If the kids are causing trouble or need help, the kid's number flashes on a screen in the 'auditorium' and the parent brings their corresponding ID number and is then shown to their child.

This last thing - about the kids - doesn't really make me smile. It makes me sad.

And it reminds me again about how much I enjoy being a parson in the country.

What to Do With Mary?

I don't know what to do with the Virgin Mary.

I know, a lot of people, especially my fellow Protestant Christians, consider Mary a non-issue. Why think about Mary when we already have Jesus? And, in a way, they are correct. We have direct access to faith, love, prayer, and the throne of grace through Jesus Christ.

That really isn't the point.

The Virgin Mary is unique in human history, the woman chosen - and who humbly accepted - to carry God the Son in her womb. The Bible teaches that she is to be revered and that she is "blessed" among women. The Third Ecumenical Council (431) signified Mary's importance by affirming that she the "Theotokos" - the Bearer of God, or, more personally, the Mother of God. [This is not a title of elevation of Mary, but a statement of fact: the eternal Son of God is truly, fully divine and has no 'beginning', but the fact that He came to earth in the flesh indicates that He truly has a human mother, hence the title Mother of God.]

I don't have an issue with that. But some do, Catholics, Orthodox, and Protestants.

Protestants throw the baby out with the bath-water. They tend to avoid Mary except when they buy the religious stamps for Christmas cards from the Post Office. Very little is ever said of her outside the context of the Christmas story. (It should be noted that this skittishness about her is a late development among Protestants. Martin Luther and other Lutheran reformers and the Wesleys and other Anglican reformers were comfortable with Mary as Theotokos and didn't shy away from her at all.)

The Catholic issues go to the other extreme, and some even go so far as to refer to Mary as a "co-redemptrix" with Jesus Christ: her suffering was akin to that of Christ. The Church of Rome has added all sorts of titles and honorifics, doctrines and adulation to the humble Nazarene maiden.

The Orthodox seem the most balanced to me, but even they sometimes seem to go beyond the Biblical parameters to honor, bless, and commemorate Mary at times.

So I'm still perplexed. What do I do with Mary?

This is important to me because Mary is far too integrated into the Gospel story to be ignored. The Nativity accounts are just the beginning. Those years between the return to Nazareth (from Egypt) and finding Jesus in the Temple, Mary was the most important human in His life. She nursed Him, changed Him, dressed Him, kissed His 'owies', fed His friends, and made sure He had a normal human childhood.

She truly was the God-bearer, in her womb and in her arms.

After the Temple event, when He was twelve, Mary helped Her Son make it through adolescence. After His Bar Mitzvah, when Jesus would have been apprentice to his step-father Joseph (or another relative in the carpentry trade), Mary would have kept His supper warm until He got home, made sure He had breakfast, kept His clothes clean.

The whole while, Mary would have been "pondering these things in her heart," as St. Luke so poetically puts it.

Mary is one of the most visible women in the New Testament, and she appears a number of times in Jesus Christ's ministry years. Because of this, she comes across the pages of my own life - if I intend to live a life centered in the Gospels.

But how far across my life should she go? The Dormition Fast has just recently ended and the end of the octave (of the Dormition) was Sunday, so Mary has been on my mind a lot recently. I want to give her all the honor she's due. I want to follow her example as the first person to accept Jesus Christ.

But my Protestant mindset gets in the way. I know "Mother of God" is theologically correct, but it has a hard time coming off my tongue. I know that she's alive in Heaven (as are all who fall asleep in the Lord) and because of that she is with the Heavenly Host praying for our lost world, but I have a very hard time asking her to pray for me, personally.

The Orthodox Prayer goes like this: Rejoice, O Virgin Theotokos, Mary, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, for thou hast borne the Savior of the world.

I don't have any problem with this prayer at all (it's all Bible - see Luke 1), except for the part that involves actually 'saying' it.

I certainly don't have a problem honoring women of far less stature. St. Clare inspires me. Margaret Fell's prison work in 17th century England is absolutely commendable. Susan B. Anthony, Carrie Nation, the suffragettes, and other pioneers brought women into first-rate citizenship. Margaret Thatcher, Indira Ghandi, Golda Meir, and Queen Elizabeth have demonstrated that women are world leaders.

And none of them bore God the Son as His mother. The cumulative accomplishments of these women pale beside the acheivement of faith that Mary had.

It's a pickle. What do you do with Mary? What should I do?

Perspective

Like a lot of people, we're cutting down on luxuries at the Daniels house. We're not eating out as much, which is probably healthier. We're carpooling more, which is also better for the billfold and the environment. We're not buying as much new stuff and we're trying to make the old stuff last longer.

Yes, these are hard times. Both of us have seen our retirement funds dwindle. Often, we feel lucky just to have jobs, while factories, restaurants, shops, and businesses of all sorts close down one-by-one.

But we're not feeling the pinch like some. Here's a little perspective:

1.2 billion people on earth live on less than a dollar a day
We are middle income Americans who can still pretty much afford whatever we want.

850 million people go to bed hungry every night
I go to bed every night worrying about how to lose these last 20 pounds

38% of the world's population doesn't have access to sanitation facilities and safe drinking water
I don't like to use a bathroom if it's not clean enough for me

600,000 families in America are homeless (permanently or temporarily) every year, affecting 1,350,000 children
Even though we have a mortgage, we enjoy our home, our extra space, even the rooms we don't use

15,000,000 children in the world are orphans due to AIDS deaths
We try to get new toys for the kids in our lives every time we turn around

$9.5 billion is spent every year on human trafficking (slavery), which traps almost 2 million children
This issue makes me squeemish, so I try to ignore it

You see, even though we are tightening up financially, we still have it pretty good.

Pretty good? No, very good.

We are very blessed and not thankful enough.

We are very full and still not satisfied.

We have everything we need and yet we spend days shopping for more.

We spend more for entertainment than we give to charity.

We pay our taxes and are not dependent on the government for food, shelter or medicine.

Our health is strong and our doctor sees us at a moment's notice if we need to.

No matter how bad things get, I have to keep these sorts of things in perpective. They're things that I know already, but it seems like I always need to be reminded of them. When I look at the repairs needed on our house, I should be thankful that I have a house to live in. When I'm foraging for a snack before bedtime, I should remember that any snack is more than many get in a day.

Things aren't all bleak, though. And that's important to keep in mind, also.

Christians across the country are mobilizing to end trafficking in human lives.

Groups like Habitat for Humanity are expanding their mission to a global one, while maintaining their Christian commitment to serve in the U.S.

International workers in the U.S. send over $200 billion a year back to their homelands to aid their families and communities.

In spite of rising umployment and stagnant and decreasing personal income, 24% of evangelical Christians tithe (10%), 9% of all Protestants tithe, and 11% of Pentecostals tithe. This is an increase over the last ten years. Evangelical Christians donate an average of $4260 per year to Church and charity, compared to $865 to the average Christian household.

In these slow economic times, may we remember the words of the Trisagion Prayer:
O Heavenly King, Comforter, Spirit of Truth,
Who is in all places and fills all things,
Treasury of good things and Giver of Life,
Come and abide in us.

Amen?

The Warble of Spring

When I stepped out on the porch a week or two ago, I thought I heard it, a muffled warble coming from the old school a couple blocks from our house.

But it was late and I was too tired to investigate.

Rain created a few nights of quiet, but sure enough, Monday night I heard it again.

The warble began in low tones: "Heeeeeeeey b-ttrrrrrr! Heeeeeeeeeey b-ttrrrrrrrrr!"

At times the tones were unified, like chanting monks going to vespers. This was early in the evening.

As the sun continued its slow set on the Spring horizon, the warble began to take a different cadence.

One voice would start: "Heeeeeeeeey b-ttrrrrr! Heeeeeeeey b-ttrrrrrrr!"

A second later, another voice: "Heeeeeeeyy b-tttrrrr b-ttrrrr b-ttrrrr!"

In a sort of mystic syncopation, then a third voice joined, different from either of the previous voices: "He-cant-hit! He-cant-hit! He-cant-hit!"

As I looked toward the old school I saw the sky brightening, even though the school is to the east of our house and the sun was clearly setting in the west. It was a bright, white light, a phenomenon we only see in Roann in the Spring and early Summer.

Yes, baseball has come back. I should have deduced it earlier when the traffic of boys on bicycles began to pick up, speeding past our house towards the school. But I've been too busy trying to pick up after this long dreary winter to notice things like this.

I put Buddy on the leash and we strolled down to the school. A game was going full bore. The parking around the school was jammed with mini-vans and older model sedans laden with car seats and fast food wrappers. Siblings younger than the ball players were out entertaining each other in games of tag and chase. Some were nibbling on sweets or popcorn from the concession stand. Parents sat on bleachers making sure their son got his chance to play (and his chance to play the same amount of time as all the other kids).

Too many kids and too many distractions kept Buddy and me from getting too close, so we decided we'd just take a longer walk around the big block (1.6 mi.). As we walked, I reflected on my own ignoble years playing baseball.

I only played for two seasons. I think they were the longest years of my father's life. I played for Travel-Mart, as did my younger brothers after me. I don't ever remember hitting the ball. Ever.

I was always placed in the outfield. I used to think I was put out there because my coach knew I had no talent for baseball. Now I think he was being understanding: he knew I'd much rather look at the sky or the grasshoppers or just about anything else besides the baseball game.

The only play I ever remember being involved with was one where I nearly cleared the bench.

The ball had been hit to my quiet corner of the field. This was odd, because most hits didn't make it past the baselines (once again demonstrating my coach's wisdom).

I snapped out of my usual day dream after I heard the coach (and practically everyone else) screaming and yelling that I was, indeed, the closest player to the ball. It had bounced and landed practically at my feet.

"This is interesting," I thought. It took me a moment to realize that I needed to pick it up and somehow get it to the catcher. So, with the energy of a champion, I picked up the ball and threw it with all my might.

It was a beautiful throw. I couldn't believe that such a beautiful throw had come from my arm. I was captured by the clear arc the ball made as it headed toward the infield. I was amazed at myself.

It would have been perfect if only it had gone towards the catcher. Instead, my beautiful throw went straight into the dugout. The raft of boys sitting on the bench inside ducked, fast. I remember hearing the ball make a crack as it hit the cinderblock wall at the far end of the dugout then a crashing sound as it ricocheted off the wire fencing that separated the infield from the players.

"I was such a wuss," I chuckled to myself as Buddy and I kept walking.

For years I thought less of myself because I was no athlete. It wasn't for a lack of trying. My baseball career ended mercifully when we moved to the country for a year and I had no way to get to a ball park. For three years in junior high, I was on the fourth string of the football team. I hated every minute of it, but Mom said it would be good for me. I still don't believe her. I ran track in junior high also, which I really enjoyed. But even though I was fast, I was almost entirely non-competitive, so by tenth grade, I was cut and I haven't had to play anything since.

As an adult, I've enjoyed sports for their real value. I've run and jogged off and on over the years, not to win races but just because it's fun. I've been on a couple bowling teams, again more for friends and to win. And, believe it or not, I really enjoy lifting weights . . . not to get 'buff' or anything, but to relieve all the stress that I hold in from everyone but God. And Buddy.

Too soon the warble of Spring will be gone again and the ball diamond at the school will be still again until next year. I'll try to listen better for that familiar call once more: "Heeeeeeyyyyy b-tttrrrrrr! Heeeeeyyyyyy b-ttttrrrrrr! He-cant-hit! He-cant-hit!"

Rural Living: Neighbors

Spring is here and along with croci, tulips, and winter wheat, neighbors can be seen popping out for folks to see.

You begin to see neighbors about the same time as you begin to see robins. Of course, some people think that robins don't really leave for the winter. Same thing could be said for neighbors. You get a glimpse of them once in a while during the winter - scraping cars, hurrying into the house after work, passing each other when you pick up the mail at the post office - but like robins, you have to wonder where they really go.

I was out working in the lawn when I had my first real 'neighboring' of the season. Earlier this year I bought a machete - yes, a real machete - to cut down the dead remains of flowers and plants from last fall.

I thought it would be good exercise.

Anyhow, I was out hacking away at our monstrosity of a pampas grass growing in the front yard. As I was 'exercising' the neighbor across the street came over with his electric hedge trimmer in hand.

"This'll take care of that in a couple passes," he said confidently.

Our neighbor is not much older than me, but he always makes me feel like a nincompoop. But that's his game. He means well. He's gotten to know me in the 12 years we've lived here and he's seen me work with tools. I can just imagine the conversation he had with his wife as they looked out the window at me and my machete, probably distilled to one word: "Sheesh."

But he was neighborly enough.
He has a new job.
(He gets a new job every Spring.)
His wife has recovered from her surgeries.
(I pretended that I remembered what she had surgery on.)
His daughter-in-law was bringing over her vacuum cleaner for repairs.
(I've seen her in action: probably can't find the 'On' switch.)

And I think I was neighborly, too.
Karen's Mom isn't doing well so we've been gone a lot.
(He noticed we weren't home much.)
We're taking down the three pine trees that have died over the winter.
(He was interested in the wood.)
I just can't get used to this Daylight Saving Time.
(He doesn't know anyone who likes it - nor do I.)

Other neighbors have been out and about, too. Kids are running around everywhere. Bikes have popped out of nowhere and balls and bats and scooters and skates and all manner of outdoor toy have re-appeared.

Everyone's sprucing up around their houses. And as neighbor meets neighbor again, the chats begin and the lives rekindle that make our little town a community once more.

It is my observation that neighboring like this has become the province of rural towns. We have no neighborhood associations to make us nervous about the people who live next to us. Sure, we have a neighbor who works on his cars in his driveway, but hey, it's his house, and he and I talk about things neither one of us would discuss otherwise: I keep him up on religion, he keeps me up on the junk car business.

Bigger cities and towns have 'neighborhoods', but they seem to be contrived. Houses all made too look the same, trying to create the image of neighborlyness that really only exists in the small rural town. One man I know from suburban Milwaukee said about our small town: "This is the kind of place we try to get our suburb to look like."

Being neighbors isn't the same as being friends, at the same time we are friendly with one another. We don't share a common life, as friends do, yet we share a common community which draws our lives together in a unique bond.

I think this is seen most clearly in the volunteer fire department. Three of our close neighbors belong to the fire department. A few days ago, there was a significant fire at the anhydrous plant a few miles from town. In a flash these three were in their trucks, blue lights flashing, ready to take care of a problem they hadn't created, risking their lives for someone they likely didn't know.

It was comforting to know that these same three men, and many like them, would have been at our front door in an instant, were there a fire at our house.

It's what neighbors do.

Repent, Mr. President.

The image above is from the internet, by cartoonist Gary Varvel, originally published in the Indianapolis Star, 2004.

One of President Obama's first initiatives was to release funding that will allow the machinery of the abortion industry to fire up again. Our tax dollars will once again be used to extinguish the lives of unborn children here and around the world.

May God have mercy on him.

Now the president will be signing into law funding that will destroy the lives of the unborn in order to allow the mad scientists of our country to experiment on them.

These same scientists who developed the means for embryos to be created outside the natural process of a mother and father are now cackling their ways back into the laboratory with a fat check from the federal government . . . to further mutilate the natural process by destroying the very lives they have developed.

Where is Mary Shelley when we need her?

Some believe the benefits of taking the lives of these embryos is justified in the results that will be obtained. Some diseases that tragically affect men, women and children, might be cured by research on these embryos. People with Parkinson's disease may be cured. Diabetics may find help.

So the death of one justifies the life of another? I believe those who are merchandising human organs have the same philosophy.

The same president who rode the wave of unpopularity of the Iraq War into the White House now deems the in utero violence of abortion and stem cell research as justifiable.

Those who believe that this evil is acceptable have a fundamental misunderstanding of human life. They have accepted the premise that human life is no more valuable than that of any other creature on earth. It is expendable in the cause of science.

Human life is so much more than only what our physical body involves. The life created at the conception of sperm and egg is much more than a biological reaction of substances. It is also the beginning of all that makes us human: our capacity to love and be loved; our ability to care and demonstrate compassion for others; our understanding of right and wrong; our likeness in the image of our Creator.

In short, it is the "being" part of "human being" that is also created at conception. Many things exist, but only humans have "being." All creatures on earth breath the air, but only humans have the Breath of Life.

Clearly stem cell destruction and abortion are moral decisions. No amount of legislation will ultimately protect the lives of the unborn. They are dependent on the moral leadership of our president, our Congress, and the scientific community.

And they are being failed.

They are being failed by Barack Obama. Mr. President, you must repent.

They are being failed by Harry Reid, Senate majority leader. Mr. Reid, you must repent.

They are being failed by Nancy Pelosi, Speaker of the House. Mrs. Pelosi, you must repent.

It is no surprise that the president, a political liberal, would be affiliated with one of the most liberal denominations in the country, the United Church of Christ (UCC). The UCC has supported the murder of unborn children by abortion since before it was legal in the United States.

However, both Reid (a Mormon) and Pelosi (a Roman Catholic) are in defiance of their Churches through their endorsement of this pre-natal barbarism. Their defiance of the moral and spiritual directors of their lives smacks of arrogance, pride, and sin.

There are other sins that impact our national conscience: war, economic disparity, discrimination, racism, spousal abuse, alcoholism, child abuse, etc. However, none of these is so calloused as to inflict harm on a human life before it has drawn its first breath. None of these vices is so cynical as to create life in order to destroy it.

I am just a pastor of a small country Church. I love the Lord, my family, the Church. I do not know why I am called to make such bold statements to our president and the government. I just know that I am called to do so.

Please pray with me:
Almighty God, You have placed Barack Obama in the position of President of our nation; we honor him in that office, in the same manner that St. Peter admonished the Church to honor the king in the days of the Caesars. We pray for the president, that he would look to You, the King of Kings, for guidance, direction, and virtue. As he loves his own children, give him love for unborn children. May he have tenderness of heart for those awaiting birth; may he have mercy on them in the decisions he makes; may he seek ways to protect them, as a mother protects her own children. We pray for Mr. Obama's repentance, as we confess our own need for salvation and repentance through Your Divine Son, Jesus Christ, in Whose Name we pray. Amen.