Restored

Recently, I was invited to visit the "home museum" of 78 year old Ray Scheffy. Our three-hour tour was inspiring. I was struck by how this man saved instruments that were in danger of being destroyed and was able to restore them with relative ease. He seems to come by this talent for restoration quite naturally. He shrugs his shoulders as if to emphasize the effortlessness with which he does his craft.

Many of his instruments come from the 1800s and 1920s. Unusual and rare items. Player pianos. Victrolas. Radios. A Violano Virtuoso. Antique music boxes. Organs. Caliopes. Band organs. Mechanical music machines with stained glass covering window for viewing the triangle, xylophone, keyboard, and tambourine. Amazing wonders.

He saved them all.

I think his love for these instruments is best explained in the story he tells about a large French music box he has in his collection. (There must be another name for it, but it slips my mind.) It was made in France in the 1800s. This musical machine is almost as long as a piano. Inside is this large cylinder with pins sticking up on it. These pins are what helps to make the music. Ray had a heart attack years ago. He spent his time recovering by replacing all 5,000 pins so that this instrument's music could be heard again.

His love for these instruments - his appreciation for the music they make - is evident.

I couldn't help but think theologically about this! I was thinking about how I fail at many things. I fall away from God. There have been times in my life when I have felt that my life was almost as unsalvageable as these music machines. But, God sees something in me, takes me in and restores me so that my gifts can be used again.

He restores my soul.
Psalm 23

Check out this video of Ray Scheffy and his Music Museum!

Smiles

What makes God smile?

This is another of Dave Daubert's questions - and I like this one a lot. What if everyone would think about this question before starting the day? Maybe we would start to act more civilly toward with one another.

What makes God smile?

• People treating one another with respect even if they don't agree with one another

• Raising the roof with joyful voices singing songs of praise and thanksgiving
  

• The voice that sings quietly by the bedside of someone who is dying, singing a way to heaven

• When we really put forth an effort to love our enemies
  

• The thousands of ELCA youth and advisors who helped clean up New Orleans
  

• Those who think of others first before thinking of themselves
  

• Bach and Agape, Duke Ellington and Rachel Kurtz, the Beatles and the Roches

• People figuring out how to use their gifts to serve others

• When we challenge injustice in all its forms

• When we leave the judging up to God instead of taking that role on ourselves

• Countries working toward peace

• Working to heal our neighborhoods instead of fleeing them

• When we "err on the side of grace"
  

• When we pray....
  

Tears

"What makes God cry?"

This is one of Dave Daubert's questions he asks churches as they prepare to look at mission and what God is calling us to do in this time and place.

Eight years ago around this time, I sat at a dinner table for a Lenten soup supper prior to the worship service. I was feeling melancholy because our president indicated that we were going to engage in a preemptive war with Iraq. This made no sense to me.

We were Christians sitting around the table, sharing a meal before worship. A confirmation teacher was one of them. She was agitated and in the course of our conversation, she became very animated and she rose to her feet (I'm not kidding) and shouted, "I HOPE WE BOMB THE SHIT OUT OF THEM!"

That still haunts me today - and every Lent. I remember my tears in worship that night. I remember the "shock and awe" I felt.

"What makes God cry?"

.... maybe the fact that a senator took pride in blocking a bill that would have provided a short-term extension for unemployment benefits that expired March 1 without, apparently, thinking of what this would mean to families counting on this to survive....

....maybe that one of our senators had the audacity to say, "continuing to pay people unemployment compensation is a disincentive for them to seek new work....." when I know people who have been trying, TRYING to find work in this difficult economic climate to no avail...

....maybe that people would follow the rantings of a radio host that strictly focuses on his own self interests and who, just the other day, compared the Speaker of the House to mullahs and imams that encourage suicide bombers - when she merely suggested that lawmakers think about what's in the best interest of the people as opposed to what might happen to their own political careers....

....maybe that some carry around signs comparing our president to Hitler or make him look like a monkey or use racial slurs....

....maybe the fact that we are all so quick to name call, demonize the other, and make things more difficult for those who are poor....

....maybe the fact that many who do this call themselves, "Christian...."

"What makes God cry?"

- demonizing the other without realizing our own demons -

- name calling -

- perpetuating untruths to further your own personal gain -

- misleading others -

- using Christianity as a sword -
- fear mongering -

- idolatry -

We are all guilty.

Most merciful God, we confess that we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves. We have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves...

...have mercy on on...

...forgive us...

...renew us...

...lead us...

...so that we may delight in your will and walk in your ways...

(Evangelical Lutheran Worship)

May it be so.

May it be so.

Signs

Last night Russell and I met with four senior high youth to talk about our upcoming Lutheran Youth Fellowship board meeting. As usual, we began our meeting with devotions. And, as usual, our conversations got sidetracked. Reading Psalm 27, some of us were struck by the last verse, "Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!"

We thought of Haitians waiting for help - and now the people of Chile - as a result of two very devastating earthquakes which happened within 46 days of the each other. What must waiting be like for them? What kind of courage is required of them?

This, however, boomeranged into a conversation of a different sort, launching into some rapid-fire statements about the end of the world - just look at what's happening in the world....The signs are there...earthquakes, tsunamis....And we've got the Mayan calendar to back it up...

...or not.

I wonder. Does every generation look to the future with despair and anxiety?

I know I did. When I was their age, Hal Lindsey predicted that the end of the world would occur in the 1980s in his book, "The Late, Great Planet Earth." There were some who believed that the world would end because of the tensions between the USSR and the USA and with the escalation of nuclear weapons. "The Day After" was a made-for-television movie that only raised the nation's anxieties about the end of the world. In 1985, a tidal wave killed 10,000 in Bangladesh. An earthquake killed 80,000 in Armenia in 1988.

Were these signs?

There have been doomsday prophets all through history. Take, for example, the Roman priest who, in the year 500, predicted the end of the earth based on the dimensions of Noah's ark. In the year 999, there was a lot of hysteria over the year 1000. People sold their goods to the poor. Many took a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. It was nuts! In 1973, David Berg predicted with the arrival of the Comet Kohoutek in 1973, that the world would end in 1974. There were many who thought the year 2000 would bring about chaos and the end times (remember Y2K?) These are just a few....and there hundreds of similar predictions.

The world is scary enough as it is without end-of-the-world prognosticators. Thank you very much.

Doomsday predictions aside, each generation does have its challenges. I would be lying if I didn't say that I'm concerned for the future of this generation. Climate change is a concern. The tensions between Muslims, Christians, and Jews are a concern. The economy is a concern.

Then again, I remember adults telling me when I was a teen how they were concerned for the future of my generation. War. Violence and unrest in our streets. Pollution.

There will always be challenges facing each generation. The question is, how do we deal with them?

This takes me back to Psalm 27 - and another verse we were moved by (verse 8), "'Come,' my heart says, 'seek [God's] face!' Your face, Lord, do I seek."

I would say to this generation and every generation: Look to God, seek God, not to prognosticators of the world's demise. Then, with courage (back to verse 14) address the real issues and concerns of our time. And, no matter what, trust in God, remembering that no matter what happens, nothing can separate you from God's love. Good news, indeed!

Reunion

We had a family reunion today and I missed you.

"Why do I need to worship regularly?" you ask me.

I could give you the commandment ("Remember the Sabbath"), but I don't want to push the law here. Believe me when I say that there are days when I would prefer to worship at St. Mattress by the Pillow!

But, please hear me out and don't turn away just yet: I can think of two really good reasons to worship every week.

The most important reason, of course, is to set aside time to worship and praise God.

I know, I know. That sounds like a line right out of the confirmation instructor's mouth. But, we have heard that so often that sometimes I think we really don't think about what that means...that the focus is on God.

Maybe the music doesn't turn you on. Or, perhaps, it's difficult to sit through the sermon. Maybe the choir makes you grit your teeth. But, it's my opinion that those aren't the reasons we worship together on Sunday. It's not for our own gratification (although we can get something out of it...and maybe I'll talk about that another time).

My point is this:

~It's not about you.

~ Or me.

It's all about God. Praising God. Thanking God. ALL about GOD.

But, you say, "I can do that anywhere!"

You're right of course. But, there is something about doing it with a community of believers. A community of people like yourself and myself. Broken. Sinful. Hypocrites. Liars. Doubters.

God gave us the gift of community. It's not all bad all the time. It is a community that can lift up prayers on your behalf when you're not doing so well. It is a community where you can look others in the eye and know that they - like you - love God. It is a community where you can listen to God's Word with others and struggle with what it means for you, for me, for us. It is a community unlike any other in that it is one of the few places left where folks of all ages gather together.

You can't do that alone. In the woods. By the ocean. Doing yoga.

And that brings me to the second reason why weekly worship is important. I miss you! The rest of your family misses you. Really!

Each week is a family reunion. We're a happier bunch when you are there. When the pews are full - when the house is packed - the place is bursting with energy and life....all that "God praise" fills the room and fills my heart.

I love that passage in Corinthians when St. Paul compares the body of Christ (you and me and other believers) to a human body. When one part suffers, all suffer. When one part rejoices, all rejoice. I think Paul could also say, when one part is missing, we all miss that one.

We truly miss YOU.

Come back to the family reunion! All your adopted uncles and aunts, grandparents, parents, siblings and children are waiting for you. We're throwing a party to give thanks and praise to God.

The table is set. God's arms are outstretched beckoning you, "Come. Come to the banquet!"

There's a seat waiting for you ~

Feet

John 13: 3ff
Jesus....got up from the table...poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him....After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, ‘Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them."

For my birthday last year, Wayne gave me a gift certificate for a spa. I put off using the gift certificate because I feel very self-conscious about my body. However, the gift was only good for a year - and with my birthday coming up soon, I knew I had to "use it or lose it."

Last week, I looked over the information sheet provided with the gift certificate. The spa offers a variety of choices - everything from head to toe - literally!

One of the things I chose was a pedicure.

Lauren filled a small ceramic tub with hot water and some soap. "Put your feet in," she instructed. "Tell me if the temperature is too hot."

My feet looked rough, calloused and tired. I lowered them into the shallow tub. The hot water felt wonderful on my feet, massaged by the air bubbles being forced into the water by the jets on the sides of the tub. Lauren sat across from me, a towel draped over her shoulder. She instructed me to put my right foot onto a padded ledge just beyond the tub. While my left foot soaked in the water, Lauren took my right foot and trimmed my toenails. Then she took an emery board and smoothed the edges of my toenails. She used an orangewood stick to ease back my cuticles. When she was done with that, Lauren took a callus remover and gently rubbed the bottom of my feet and toes, smoothing out the ugly, rough patches.

She gently put my foot back into the water and then repeated the process with my left foot. "So far, so good," I thought to myself.

My left foot returned to the tub so that Lauren could work more magic on my right foot in the next step. She took a scrub smelling of chocolate and raspberry and worked it into my foot. These weary bones were starting to come alive as she massaged the grainy scrub into my foot. She did the same to my left foot. Happy feet! I was getting happy feet!

Lauren rinsed off the scrub and then took both my feet and wiped them with the towel she had on her shoulder. She took a cream and massaged each foot generously for several minutes each. When she was all done, the old, dry skin was gone and my feet appeared to glow.

+ + +

Let's face it. Feet are not exactly the cleanest part of anyone's body. Feet bear the weight of their owner. Barefooted, feet pick up the dirt wherever they go. Feet stuffed in shoes get hot and sweaty. They are usually ignored and taken for granted until something goes wrong.

Jesus took the miserable, dusty, smelly, callused feet of his disciples into his hands and held them just as Lauren did with mine. I wonder if the disciples felt embarrassed because I kinda did. I felt my own unworthiness, lowliness: Why would anyone want to take a stranger's feet into her hands - even for pay? I wonder if the disciples felt that, too. Why would a teacher hold and clean the foot of his student?

And make note of this, too! Embarrassed as the disciples may have felt (did they want to crawl away and hide?) Jesus had to kneel - or at least be lower than they were - in order to clean their feet. A pose of humbleness. A pose of servanthood. All of a sudden the one who is feeling embarrassed - almost beneath another - is elevated in a way. What a paradox!

And note this, as well: Jesus was taking the ugliest and misshapen parts of the disciples bodies and making them clean, giving these ignored appendages some much needed TLC. Just goes to show that Jesus doesn't ignore anything about us. He loves every part - blisters, hangnails, calluses and all.

It is the season of Lent. In a few weeks we will remember the story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. We will remember Jesus' act of servanthood. Help me, Lord, to find ways to serve you and others so that all may be elevated by knowing your amazing love for them.

My feet are glowing!

Jesus wants us all to glow.

Roots

Ray was born on July 4, 1907 - born of Finnish parents in New York City. There is a tale of adventure concerning how his father, Charles, came to the United States.. The story - as I remember it - went like this: Charles boarded a Russian ship and when it got into the harbor in Buenos Aires, he jumped ship and made his way to Brooklyn. Maybe that's not exactly how it happened. But, he did land up in Brooklyn where he married Josefina. He was a shipbuilder like many Finns living in that Brooklyn neighborhood.

Death and hardship were part of Ray's life early on. He and his four brothers - Charles, Frank, Walder, and Martin slept crosswise in a large a bed. Tears came to his eyes whenever he told the story of how - when he and his siblings were at play - his father came down from Martin's bedside to tell them that Martin had "gone home to Jesus." Ray was always affected when he remembered this part of his life. Martin died from diphtheria or the flu (I can't remember which). He told us how he remembered the horse-drawn hearse coming to pick up the body of his young brother. There were stories of bread lines and scarcity in the depression. There was the story of how his family learned on Christmas Eve that his brother Walder had died, serving the country in World War II.

But, Ray did not live a life focused on death or scarcity. His life was rooted in God's abundant grace and life. If there were one word to describe him, for me, that word would be "joyful."

Ray was a raucous joke teller, much to the disdain of his wife, my grandmother Marie. He absolutely delighted in telling stories. I remember the story he told of how he felt the call to go to seminary. According to him, he was on a golf course when a bolt of lightening struck close by. Years later, I realized that he was pulling my leg - telling a story that mirrored Martin Luther's own story of call!

Joy!

If you knew him, you would remember his delightful laugh and that twinkle in his eye.

Joy in the Lord - Most days, Ray was up just as the sun was about to rise. Sometimes earlier. The first thing Ray did every morning was to get the coffee percolating. Then, he poured himself a cup (strong enough that a spoon could stand up in it) and sat at a table with his Bible and journal. Making time for personal devotions was part of his daily routine. I have no doubts that the last words on his lips at night were prayers to God. I remember how appalled he was that I would put my transistor radio under my pillow to fall asleep to the music from a local radio station. He thought my last thoughts before drifting to sleep should be of God.

Joy in the blessings of family - Ray loved his family. At every mealtime, he said a prayer giving thanks for the food before him. But, he also said prayers for his "children, our children's children, and our children's children's children." My brothers and I teased him about this, but we would have sorely missed this invocation if he had ever skipped over it. I think, sometimes, he identified himself with Abraham and the covenant God gave to Abraham. God's covenant with Abraham was God's covenant with my grandfather - to be blessed with children and generations to follow.

Joy in the blessings of harvest - His hobby was gardening - and what a green thumb he and my grandmother had! When I watched him work in his garden, tending his plants, I could see that this was a very spiritual matter for him. When the harvest was gathered, Ray and Marie canned much of the food. They sold some produce by the roadside and the money they made they gave to fight world hunger.

Joy in the blessings of heritage - Ray was proud to be a first-generation American. I think it tickled him to have been born on the fourth of July! We celebrated his birthday with parades of pots and pans and made cakes looking like the American flag. The Finnish flag flew from time-to-time off his porch. While his roots were important, he did not let that stand in the way of getting to know others who came from other places. For him, ALL were God's children. There were no distinctions.

Joy in welcoming the stranger - Ray could make conversations with anyone. Anyone! We laugh when we remember the story of his trip to a hardware store where he struck up a conversation with someone. "Bob," he exclaimed. "How are you?" My grandmother witnessed this and wondered who this fellow was. She didn't recognize him. And Bob didn't seem to recognize Ray. But, they conversed together for awhile and it wasn't until Bob walked away that my grandmother saw that he was wearing a belt around his waste with his name across the front!

Ray -

Always welcoming.

Always blessing.

Always grace-drive.

Living life through his faith lens 24/7.

I give thanks for the living witness of my grandfather!

Beginnings

God's child.

This is who I am and this is the lens through which I view my life.

Forgiven. Connected. Supported. Loved.

Everyone has one has a story to tell. This is my faith story.