With Thanks for Those Who are HARD and EASY to Love

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From the 2018 series “With Thanks”

“I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints, and for this reason I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers.”

— Ephesians 1:15-16

Let's talk about ice cream. Most folks have at least one or two favorite flavors of this dairy treat. What are yours? Do you like Rocky Road, Chocolate Chip, or Vanilla? Imagine it is a hot summer day and you have a double scoop of your fav-flavor in hand. That would be a pleasant experience for us to take, wouldn't it? It would be easy to enjoy. Our thanks would flow without much problem.

Now picture the same ice cream cone in hand. Instead of the heat, you are walking into a cold and driving wind. With snow blowing in your face, your body is freezing. How thankful would you be even for the best kind of ice-cream? It would be much harder to summon praise, wouldn't it?

So it goes with the people in our life. Some of them are like the choicest of delights. We enjoy their presence as they bring us joy. We are glad to have them at hand. Some are much harder to love. Sometimes surrounding conditions affect our gratitude. When our cold lips shiver, we don't want them anywhere near ice cream, nor do they naturally move in praise.

Whether others are easy or hard to appreciate, scripture invites us beyond surface emotions or automatic reactions. To be thankful for ALL the saints is to go beyond merely the saints we adore. To be grateful for ALL includes those "flavors" we don't like and never choose.

Aware of the issue of domestic violence within all communities, I need to clarify that abuse is NEVER acceptable. God does not want people to remain in relationships and interactions that harm physically, emotionally, or spiritually. Such situations are sinful and not sacred.

The person who is hurting us or constantly ridicules us or is actively working against us need not be a recipient of thanks. That would be self-destructive and remove authenticity from gratitude. It would be like insisting that a person with a tree-nut allergy eat cookies with walnuts. Scripture is a word of life, not sadistic captivity.

Beyond those who are 'bad' for us, are a group that we find adversarial. Maybe it is that our personalities clash. Or, perhaps, we are more alike than we care to admit and we are always competing for that last cookie.

What would it mean for us to give thanks for these folks? Would our effort of thanks change the way we interact with the ones we label 'rivals'? Would it open just a crack in the wall that separates us from loving them? Could a word of thanksgiving, however small it might be, be a tool of the Spirit for transformation? For difficult relationships? For us?

When we give thanks for those ‘hard to love’, we recognize the presence of God resides with them. They number among the saintly sinners of God by Christ's inclusion. If connected to God, then they too are a source of blessing. When we acknowledge that their existence is as much a blessing as our own, we enter a whole new level of grateful living that is as sweet and refreshing as our favorite flavor of ice cream on a hot summer's day.

Prayer:

God of ALL people, your image is present in everyone who lives on this planet. Some folks bear your image in such a way that it is easy for us to see. For them, O God, we return you thanks. Others make it harder. Barriers - some of which we have erected and fiercely maintain - separate us from them. Help us to look deeper. Strengthen us with imagination and courage so that we might include them in our prayers and thoughts of gratitude.

Through Jesus Christ, Amen.

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 Permission granted to share today's content with family and friends.  Copyrighted 2018. Walt Lichtenberger

Inclusion

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From the new book Lighting Your Way, With Love

It was a tremendous experience to be one of 35,000 participants at the ELCA Youth Gathering in Houston.  Throughout four days of mass gatherings, we heard a variety of voices as speakers shared both their struggles and their faith.  Each contributed a unique perspective to the gathering's theme of “This Changes Everything,” encouraging us to be part of a church in which everyone has a place.   

For me, unquestionably, the best witness came from a little eleven-year-old girl, who was introduced by her mother.  Her smile captivated the Super Bowl-sized NRG stadium.  Rebekah Bruesehoff spoke with passion and clarity about the welcome she received from her parents, her church, and her God.  Rebekah is transgender.  Rebekah; her mom, Jamie; and her off-stage, pastor dad, Chris, all embody the critical Gospel-centric value of inclusion.    

I am proud to serve as a pastor in a national church body that dares to embrace inclusion.  Inviting an articulate transgender pre-teen to speak at a youth gathering was a bold move that no doubt ruffled some feathers.  Though I didn't see it in the section where I was sitting, I'm told by colleagues that some adult leaders removed their groups from the arena before Rebekah and Jamie spoke.  Although they received a heartfelt standing ovation from the crowd when they finished, I'm sure that not everyone was happy with what they experienced.    

I must admit that the whole idea of transgender forces one to rethink traditional categories of the created order.  Whereas I don't pretend to understand the reality of being transgendered or of having a transgendered child, I don't need to fully “get it” to include those who are in my definition of neighbor and church family. 

When Rebekah and Jamie stood on that stage, they didn't ask for my or anyone's approval.  They shared their story as a way to open hearts and minds so that there might be a greater space within the church for others with similar experiences.    

They stood with courage, willing to be vulnerable for the sake of introducing themselves as God made them.  No pretensions.  Children of God, who also happen to be a pre-teen transgender youth and her mother.  Children of God, who found a space of welcome in their Christian community.  Children of God, who seek inclusion in the larger body of Christ without having first to deny themselves.    

The value of inclusion is not some left-wing, secular conspiracy; rather, it is grounded firmly in scripture.  Let me share a few instances.  When Isaiah dreams of God preparing a mountaintop banquet, he sees all people feasting together (Isaiah 25:6).  Throughout Jesus's ministry, he was continually sharing table fellowship with a diverse group of people that included self-righteous Pharisees, tax collectors, women with sullied reputations, those with physical impediments, children, and an assorted group of “unclean” characters (see Luke 5:27-39; 7:36-50;9:10-17; 14:1-6, 7-14,15-24; 19:1-10.)   

Table fellowship in the Roman world conveyed with it a sort of acceptance, honor, and equal standing.  When you ate with someone, you befriended them and entered into a relationship with them.  Continued sharing of table fellowship solidified and strengthened social, economic, and religious bonds.    

Because of this, folks heavily guarded admittance to the table.  You didn't haphazardly eat with just anyone.  On more than one occasion, the Pharisees reminded Jesus of the social conventions and implications of his presence at unsavory tables and his open practices of inclusive hospitality.   

I'm convinced that Jesus didn't need this “helpful advice,” for he thoroughly knew what he was doing.  In sharing meals and welcome with those whom society generally excluded, Jesus created a new community that has a place for everyone.  Inclusion was a Jesus-value, one established centuries before any current political ideology or secular predisposition.   

When the ELCA welcomed Rebekah and Jamie to the stage, the church was living out the same value of inclusion that Jesus displayed time and again when he shared an open table fellowship.   

How might we do the same?  How can we engage in genuine acceptance of others who may not think, act, or orient themselves as we do?  What will it take for us to withhold judgment and instead extend kindness?  Personally, what is getting in your way of mimicking Jesus's inclusive table fellowship?  How might we follow the courageous witness of an eleven-year-old transgendered girl who was willing to be vulnerable and stood on a stage to share her beautiful smile? 

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A Note to My Son:  

Dear Noah,

I was happy to see a lot of posters on your campus embracing the value of inclusion.  I'm glad that in some places, the acceptance of differences and embracing of diversity is being held up as a goal.  Not everything about our culture is terrible.   

When multiple orientations, divergent identities, and various self-expressions are displayed out in the open, it will threaten some folks.  They will judge.  Some might even respond with harmful and hurtful words and actions.  

Don't let a lack of understanding turn you away from following Jesus's path of love.  Instead, use the occasion of difference as an opportunity to broaden your mind and heart.  Don't ever be afraid that you will lose yourself by listening to the experience of another.  You only stand to gain from a broader perspective.  

Remember, inclusion is never a bad word—it is a Jesus-word.

Love you always,

Dad

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 Permission granted to share today's content with family and friends.  Copyrighted 2018. Walt Lichtenberger

See below for details on how to purchase Lighting Your Way, With Love

Lighting Your Way, With Love

$15.99

When teenagers leave home, it is a time of adjustment for the whole family. Lighting Your Way, With Love helps young and old find the wisdom, courage, and faith to face what lies ahead. Walt writes from the dual-perspective of a father whose son is going off to university and a seasoned pastor who has walked with others during times of transition.

paperback: 243 pages

For those who wish to order by check payment (click here)

Want more information or to check out current promotions (click here)

BONUS - All purchases from this website include a free subscription to the online version of this material (a $9.99 value for free!). This allows you to read Lighting Your Way, With Love as a daily devotional as an email is sent to your inbox each morning in time for your morning coffee.

With Thanks For the Church Family

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From the 2018 series “With Thanks”

“Then we your people, the flock of your pasture,
will give thanks to you forever;
from generation to generation we will recount your praise.”

— Psalm 79:13

There was a padlock on the gate, and plywood boards covered the stained glass windows of Bethany Lutheran Church in North Bergen, New Jersey. A closed church is a sad sign of the times as people abandon houses of divine worship throughout our country.

It was the place where I was baptized over forty-seven years ago. On my last trip back to my homeland, I heard the rumor of its closing, and I had to see it with my eyes.

To view a church gone-out-of-business is a sobering sight. To look upon the place where I first sang the great hymns of faith and to know that there the music has forever stopped is heart-retching. Though deep sorrow filled me, so did love. The memory of my first church family pushed away anger and despair.

Beyond the locked iron gate and the wooden barrier, in that small stucco building on the corner of that busy street, something extraordinary occurred. Though the dispassionate cars continue their endless procession without noticing the significance of the life-less structure, my memory bowed in adoration.

Mrs. Lamentain, Herbie, Roger Reich, Mrs. Kauffenger, Mrs. Rossi and her daughter Mrs. Schubert, Stuart Corby, the Kaplans: these names and faces, which I knew so well, come flooding into my mind from the hidden storage places of my heart. My eyes begin to water with joy. They and others blend to form that great company of saints. Pastors Bell, Rickel, and Sinnott (yes, I did have a pastor named "sin-not") helped to lay the foundation for my faith as they cared for those wonderfully imperfect people of God (myself and family included.)

From the gloom, emerged gratitude. Although the congregation of my childhood is no more, my church family lives on. The baptisms, weddings, and funerals - the sacramental encounters with God's grace and forgiveness - the sacred meetings and greetings - all these continue in the lives that were touched by the witness of Bethany Lutheran Church.

Church families are not static entities - permanent structures. They are dynamic, broken, fluid, and fluctuate. They live and die. They remain in the resurrected life of Christ.

Taking leave of the place of my first experience with the Body of Christ, I said a prayer of thanksgiving. God, thank you for my Bethany church family. Thank you also for the many other church families that have nurtured, challenged, and cared for my faith in all the years since last I worshiped beyond the locked gate and the barred door.

Prayer:

O God, our help in ages past and hope for years to come, you have blessed your church with your grace. Be with all those who gather around Word and Sacrament to sing your praise and worship your name. Strengthen church families everywhere so that they might be outposts of your welcome, grace, reconciliation, and love.

Through Christ, Amen.

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 Permission granted to share today's content with family and friends.  Copyrighted 2018. Walt Lichtenberger

Finding It Hard to be Open

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“...Then the father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.”

— Luke 15: 31-32

From the new book Lighting Your Way, With Love

Jesus told a group of his critics, who were having a hard time with his “open table” policy, a story about a family squabble that continues to be all too relatable.   

Two very different brothers were vying for their father’s love.   The irresponsible one leaves home to squander a fortune.  He pays no respect to his father and asks for his inheritance ahead of time.  It is as though his father has become dead to him.  The dependable son remains faithful, stays home, and shows the proper honor to his father.   

All heck breaks loose: the wayward son returns home; the father welcomes him without restraint; the responsible son refuses to acknowledge his brother's existence.  There is trouble in the family as feelings are hurt, verdicts levied, and hearts break.   

It is a timeless tale that has a wide audience.  Even non-Christians might be familiar with this Jesus story, which is traditionally labeled "the prodigal son."  We might even hear someone refer to another, or themselves, as being the prodigal one in the family.   

Often lost in the retelling of the story is the original audience and context.  Jesus told this tale to those who were apt to judge.  The Pharisees opposed Jesus's ministry, which reached out to the margins and shared God's hospitality with the outcast.  According to the Pharisees, these people didn’t deserve God’s favor.  Yet Jesus ate and shared table fellowship with those whom the Pharisees marked as “unclean” and not worthy of God's attention.  Like the older brother in the story, both their lack of compassion and grace consumed them.   

This remains a tale that contains a pointed message, which speaks to the inner Pharisee within each of us.  Somewhere in our spirit, there exists a cauldron where legalism and judgment combine to form a toxic poison that bubbles over.  Whether we are prone to direct that venom on others or ourselves, it is invariably harmful and destructive.  Relationships suffer from the strain of internal and external condemnation.  Self-esteem withers under self-judgment.   

The final episode of Jesus's story speaks directly to this detrimental phenomenon.  In seething anger, the older brother refuses to enter the joy of his father.  The forgiving father seeks him out and begs him to come to the feast, to be a part of the celebration.  Forgiveness and reconciliation are the music that plays at the party to which the father has invited both his sons.  Jesus leaves the story open-ended for us to complete. 

How much authority and power will we give to our inner Pharisee?  Will we allow this damaging influence to dominate our relationships with others?  Will we let this voice shout within and make us feel unworthy to the core?  Will we exclude ourselves from the party? 

Or will we find the courage and wisdom to lean into God's grace?  Forgiveness and reconciliation come to us as generous gifts from a God who refuses to let us go.  It is a crazy idea—God loves us so much that no judgment in heaven, earth, or within can have the last word.  God desires a life-giving connection with you and with me.  Further, God wants us to extend that connection to others: family, friends, and strangers alike.  

Through God's outpouring of love in Jesus, we find an invitation to join our voices in a jubilant song.  Rejoice!  Shout for joy!  We have to sing, dance, and make merry. 

Found are all the lost.  Reunited are all the estranged.  Included are all the discarded.  Mercy has spoken louder than judgment.  Love has silenced the Pharisee’s objection as he or she enters the party.

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A Note to My Son:  

Dear Noah,
You know that "judgment" is a bad word at our house.  You also know that we have all called each other on “judging.”  When we judge others with disapproving words, glances, or tones, we do damage.  It is also true when we judge ourselves unworthy. 

I'm not saying that we should abandon all critique.  Seeking to better ourselves by measuring progress, effectiveness, and skill is not a bad thing.  Improving ourselves and our work should be a lifelong aspiration.   

That said, there is a difference between striving for excellence and beating up on ourselves or others for not being good enough.  True worth comes not from what we do or produce or attain. Instead, it comes from being the person God made us be.  Our value in life comes as a gift from God, and we express it best through loving and non-judging relationships with others.

Love you, always,

Dad.

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 Permission granted to share today's content with family and friends.  Copyrighted 2018. Walt Lichtenberger

See below for details on how to purchase Lighting Your Way, With Love

Lighting Your Way, With Love

$15.99

When teenagers leave home, it is a time of adjustment for the whole family. Lighting Your Way, With Love helps young and old find the wisdom, courage, and faith to face what lies ahead. Walt writes from the dual-perspective of a father whose son is going off to university and a seasoned pastor who has walked with others during times of transition.

paperback: 243 pages

For those who wish to order by check payment (click here)

Want more information or to check out current promotions (click here)

BONUS - All purchases from this website include a free subscription to the online version of this material (a $9.99 value for free!). This allows you to read Lighting Your Way, With Love as a daily devotional as an email is sent to your inbox each morning in time for your morning coffee.

Imagine: You Are Never alone

From the new book Lighting Your Way, With Love

Imagine you are all alone.  There is no one around to help; no one in whom to confide, no one with whom to share the moment.  Be it a storm, a medical emergency, or a plumbing crisis, the specific situation is subordinate to the fact that you are in trouble, scared, and by yourself.  Adversity confronts you, and you must rise solo to face the challenge.   

Though we have all been there a time or two, it is not a comfortable scenario.  I'm not talking about the peace that solitude can bring for the introverted processors out there (I share your experience).  There is nothing generative about being in a pinch and feeling like you are the only person in the world "to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" and "take arms against a sea of troubles” (thanks, William!).  Such an experience can give rise to utter despair.    

It is also unnatural.  In Genesis 2:18, we read, "Then the Lord GOD said, ‘It is not good that the [human creature] should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner.’"  God created partnerships, family, and community so that we would never need to go it alone.  God connects “me” to “we” for our mutual support and benefit.   

Even though it runs counter to our dysfunctional national narrative of rugged individualism, God does not intend for us to fend for ourselves alone.  Jesus chose twelve disciples—not one.  None of them had bootstraps, either! 

During life's significant changes and transitions, being alone is particularly hard.  You wave to your family as they drive away after having moved your stuff into the dormitory.  You close the front door of your home after having said goodbye to the last guest at the funeral.  What do you do now?  Quickly this question moves beyond the practical to the existential.  What do you—all by yourself—do now?  As it bounces within, a dreadful followup query accompanies that question: How am I going to make it alone?   

It is here that sacred memory is of great support.  We are not alone!  God remains near.  From the loneliness of exile, Isaiah's imagination reaches our spirit: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you (Isaiah 43:2).”  Even though Isaiah first spoke these words to an exiled nation during a time of unparalleled crisis, they ring true to individual hearts centuries later during a variety of personal calamities and challenges. 

The waters of our baptism rise to fill our emptiness.  No matter how trying the circumstances, God promises to always be with us.  Even as you head back to your new dorm room or close that door on a house now missing a loved one, God remains.  We belong to a loving God who will not let go. 

Imagine that God is present, right beside you.  In every moment, whether you sit in a crowd of friends and family or by yourself.  In every place, whether you are in the familiar surroundings of your home or an unknown space.  You are never truly alone.   

Breathe and lean into God's presence.  Find peace where words lose all their power to describe and control.  Be.  Feel the assurance of love that passes all understanding.  Enter the space that the saints of old occupied in their struggles and tribulations.  Rest in faith and discover respite for your weary body.  Close your eyes, put up your feet, and allow a fresh breath of air to fill your innermost parts.  Stay as long as it takes to experience the truth that your faith believes with every fiber of your being: you are not alone; God is near.     

From that connected place, find your way to communion with others.  What new friendships await your discovery?  Where will you experience God's presence in the face and kindness of those in your life?  How will those who are both familiar and unknown present the face of Christ to you?  How might you shine Christ’s love to them?   

Imagine that it is time to leave the dark solitude of your tomb and live in the daylight of resurrected community.

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A Note to My Son:  

Dear Noah,
It must have been hard for you on moving day when we drove away.  It was the strangest feeling for me.  I know that we couldn't stay for as long as I wanted to—heck, if that were the case, I'd still be there!   

I remember the first time I was dropped off by my parents at seminary.  I watched their SUV  (they had one way before it was a popular vehicle)  drive over the hill and felt like I was all alone.  And I was.  I didn't know anybody there.  The familiar faces of those who loved me were driving away.  I was by myself and needed to blaze a new trail into uncharted territory. 

You might still be blazing your trail, trying to find your way through unknown crowds of people.  Give it time.  Breathe.  Remember, connections don't happen overnight.  Put yourself in places where you have a chance of making friendships.   

And remember: you are never alone.  Not only do you have your family's love with you, but you also have God's.  This is the same God, who through the waters of your baptism, claimed your life and declared it to be beloved.  God is with you and goes with you into your future.  Lean into this truth, and may you find in it rest for your weary soul and companionship for your journey

Love you, always,

Dad.

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 Permission granted to share today's content with family and friends.  Copyrighted 2018. Walt Lichtenberger

See below for details on how to purchase Lighting Your Way, With Love

Lighting Your Way, With Love

$15.99

When teenagers leave home, it is a time of adjustment for the whole family. Lighting Your Way, With Love helps young and old find the wisdom, courage, and faith to face what lies ahead. Walt writes from the dual-perspective of a father whose son is going off to university and a seasoned pastor who has walked with others during times of transition.

paperback: 243 pages

For those who wish to order by check payment (click here)

Want more information or to check out current promotions (click here)

BONUS - All purchases from this website include a free subscription to the online version of this material (a $9.99 value for free!). This allows you to read Lighting Your Way, With Love as a daily devotional as an email is sent to your inbox each morning in time for your morning coffee.

With Thanks For Family

From the 2018 series “With Thanks”

“How very good and pleasant it is
when kindred live together in unity!”

— Psalm 133:1

If I were to make a list of the people who bring me the greatest joy, who I've shared the most life with, and who have been there in my most profound moments of sorrow and greatest bliss, at the top would be my family.

They are also the ones who know my greatest quirks and surest inclinations. For better or worse, at times, they know me better than I know myself and they are not afraid to point out the inconsistencies or foibles. More than 'keeping it real,' they can meet me in the place where I am most real - warts and all.

Some of these folks share my blood and some of those who I call 'family' don't. My definition of "family" has expanded over the years. It now includes those whose friendship has been a constant blessing and support. Lately, it has also excluded those who are no longer present in my life, although they share the same biological soup.

Like a pebble that is dropped into a pond, sending out ripples and waves from the center, so is my family. The ones who are closest to the center are my boys, wife, parents, siblings and their kids. If any awards are given out for putting up with or most supporting, this group takes the serious hardware.

Beyond them, the wave includes others who I've come to count upon for their wisdom, strength, guidance, and love. Perhaps in another age, I would have called them 'friends.' Thanks to Facebook, 'friends' seems too casual a designation. They are much more than someone I 'like' - they also are the ones I love.

When I think of the PEOPLE for whom I'm most thankful, I need to start with my family.

Thank you for bringing the laughter and enjoyment to my day.

Thank you also for being honest with me by helping to hold up a mirror so I can see myself as I am, beyond my delusions. By the way, it is not always fun when you do this. Sometimes, it makes me downright mad and frustrated. But you love me enough to hold me accountable to myself and are willing to be a part of my self-improvement project. You love me in spite of my behavior that can be maddening.

Thank you for just being there to share my life with all its goodness, horror, imperfections, ugliness, and beauty. Through the peaks and valleys, you have been my traveling companions. We remain connected by a bond that time has tested, proofed, and polished.

Thank you for teaching me also about the mechanics of love and forgiveness. It is a lovely dance that at times moves with the grace of a ballerina, filling the dance hall with delight. At other times, it plods along like a draft horse pulling a beer wagon. There are those moments when all movement stops and a painful silence breaks the rhythm.

My dear family, though I sing my second highest praise about you (topmost must go to God) and words can not adequately express my gratitude, what I have come most to appreciate about our relationship is found in its imperfection.

In the context of our living together, I don't have to pretend to be someone else - in fact, you won't let me get away with that. Perfection is a fool's dream, an unattainable destination. When I try to head down that road, you have reminded me to keep it real. For your leveling - I am grateful. We are not perfect - we can only try to be human and live into the vulnerability of our brokenness.

Last, thank you for the ways that you teach me about God's love and care. Through your words, deeds, and presence - as wonderfully imperfect as it sometimes can be - you shine a sacred light that brightens my spirit. Thank you for being this blessing to me and for giving me the chance to be this blessing to you.

You Are About To Host A Big Party

From the new book Lighting Your Way, With Love

Though she didn't have any professional food-service training, my mother knew how to host a big party.  When I was in high school, about three times a year, my parents hosted dinner for thirty to forty people.  These grand banquets required us to clear out the furniture in the living room to make space for the tables that we borrowed from our church.   

Mom did all the cooking, making sauerbraten and corned beef with cabbage for the masses.  Dad took care of stocking and chilling the beverages.  In addition to feasting, there was singing and dancing.  Lots of laughter filled the house.   

The regularity of these events prompted guests to ask about the date of the next one so that they could get it on the calendar.  Over time, the eclectic group of family, friends, and guests got to know one another.  As a result of my parents’ hospitality, friendships emerged around the borrowed banquet tables.  Over time, strangers became neighbors, part of the Lichtenberger family. 

Imagine you are going to host a big gathering.  Don't worry about the food or if you have enough space.  Think about the people.  Who would you invite?  What names and faces pop into your mind immediately?  Are they blood relations or close friends?  Extended family?   

At first, think only about those you want to be at your party.  Who are those people who make you smile and laugh, whom you are always happy to see?  So far, I'm guessing this whole exercise has been pleasurable.  Who doesn't want to be around people who bring joy, happiness, and friendship to life?   

Even if your initial list is massive, more in number than you have room to host, continue to imagine.  It is time to add more guests.  Think of folks who live in your neighborhood.  Invite the ones you know by name and the ones you know only by sight.  How about the person you wave to as they jog or walk their dog by your house?  These are all your neighbors by the strictest of definitions.  Ask them to come by so that you can get to know them and start to love them.  

Continue with the list.  Now include the ones about whom you don't usually think.  By definition, this will be harder because you don't often consider these folks.  They fade into the background of your busy life.  Some hide in plain sight, like the person begging on the corner with a cardboard sign.  Others cower in the shadows, like the migrant who lacks the proper papers or the abused mother who doesn't want anyone to notice her bruises.  How about the stoned drug user who is tripping out?  Do you have space in your heart for them?  What would it take to love each of these also as your neighbor?     

Think now of the very last person you would like to come to your party.  Who is your nemesis in life—that person who works tirelessly to get you down?  Add that person and any associated villainous characters to your list.   

Look over your list.  How big and unrealistic did it become?  Who are the most unlikely guests?  Ask yourself why?  Be honest.  What is preventing you from inviting them to your party?  Is it fear?  Prejudice?  Wariness of the social retribution you will suffer from asking the wrong folks?  Or is it merely that it is awkward to approach strangers?   

Now, wonder about the feast that Isaiah describes: "On this mountain, the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear (Isaiah 25:6-7)."  It will be the grandest of all parties.  What is more, everyone—absolutely everyone—is on the guest list.   

From the top of your hypothetical invite list to the absolute bottom, all will be there.  God will lower all the boundaries and heal all the divisions at the great feast.  Old bonds will strengthen.  New friendships will form.  It will be a glorious day that inaugurates a community in which all live as neighbors.  On that day, love will be both the language and system of exchange.  Not a single person will be left out.   

It is the kind of dream that is worth our time and imagination.  It is a destination toward which each of us would do well to travel.  It is a hope that should inspire us the next time we make up an invite list.

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A Note to My Son:  

Dear Noah,
What is the biggest room on campus?  Picture it filled with tables and chairs—hundreds of them.  Imagine a feast filled with all the very best foods, all of your favorites.  It's your party, so you can invite anyone you would like.   

Who would be on your guest list?  I'm sure you'd invite your friends and family (don't forget your dad!).  Perhaps acquaintances and maybe even your teachers would also get an invite.   

Now imagine that there is still room.  Who else would you let come?  Would you grab unknown students and their friends?  Would you go out into the streets and bring in complete strangers?  How far would you go to invite people? 

Hard to picture, isn't it?  But difficult as it is even to imagine, that is what is on God's mind when it comes to the heavenly feast.  Everyone at the table.  Let that image inspire you the next time you head into the cafeteria. 

Love you, always,

Dad.

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 Permission granted to share today's content with family and friends.  Copyrighted 2018. Walt Lichtenberger

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When teenagers leave home, it is a time of adjustment for the whole family. Lighting Your Way, With Love helps young and old find the wisdom, courage, and faith to face what lies ahead. Walt writes from the dual-perspective of a father whose son is going off to university and a seasoned pastor who has walked with others during times of transition.

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Light in the Trees

blog first published on September 16, 2016

Learning to paint watercolor has taught me a few unexpected things about the spiritual life.  Before heading out on my sabbatical pilgrimage, I had the good fortune of receiving a few private lessons from a local, accomplished artist.  My teacher, Jill, was gracious, patient, and had that wonderful ability of meeting me where I was to give me the tools that I needed to go further.  I remember bringing her one of my first paintings, which was accomplished via some tips I picked up on u-tube.  It came out okay but it lacked some of the true essence of a watercolor.  It was as though I had painted an acrylic or oil painting.     

Years ago, I dabbled a little (very little) in acrylics.  Thanks to Jill's instruction, I was to find out that the difference between these mediums is truly ontological.  With acrylics (and oils), you build up layers of paint.  Highlights (brush strokes of white that mimic light) are added to the top of things that you paint on the canvas.  Watercolors, on the other hand, work from light to dark.  If you want to add highlights you need to either remove paint (which is rather easy when you are working in a medium that is water soluble) or you need to leave white space from the get-go.  You can mask an area with masking fluid; this rubber-cement-type material prevents paint from adhering to the area.  Your other option is to leave areas blank.  The white of the paper becomes an important participant in the painting.   

As I was painting on a daily basis throughout the sabbatical pilgrimage, I found myself applying Jill's wisdom.    I began going lighter with my colors earlier on in the painting process.  I also started to leave more white space in my work.   

In a recent conversation with my spiritual director, I reflected upon the progress I was making with my painting.  I shared that my painting had given me a new perspective as I looked at things.  Looking out the window, I described seeing the beautiful oak and maple trees in my backyard.  I noticed the multiple shades of green and the way that the light was moving through the leaves.  Were I to paint the tree, I would need to leave white space in order to allow for the light. 

Thinking back on this conversation, I wonder about leaving space in our days for the Light of God to find expression.  How might we pay attention to not only the colors that we see but also to the places where color is absent?  What are we missing in our incessant efforts to paint, paint, paint?  How would our imagination and creativity be served if we simply started to notice and revere the light?  

My painting and my spiritual awareness continues to be a work-in-progress.  Practice is an important discipline in that it allows for us to apply the wisdom (of teachers, faithful conversation partners, and sacred words) to our living and our response.  We grow as the light comes through the leaves of our days.  Joy happens when we become aware that the light which gently caresses our moments comes as a gift from our loving God.

Eyes Upward

The following comes from my 2017 Lenten series.

O Israel, hope in the Lord

from this time on and forevermore.  Psalm 131: 3

Leaving the Redwood forest, I was filled with a renewed spirit.  It was a magical place that allowed for regeneration.  The Bible imagines Eden as a garden.  I wonder if it might have been a forest in the northwest.  Although the paths that we traveled throughout our stay in Redwood National Park were mostly flat, it was a place for the heart to ascend.

When you are standing at the base of a Redwood, there is a pull upward.  Your eyes can’t help but follow the enormous trunk skyward.  It is hard, maybe impossible, to see the crown of some of these giant trees.  Far above, where the sun breaks through the heavy canopy, a focal point emerges just beyond the limits of our vision. It is bright and lofty.  Is this a manifestation of hope? A glimpse of the heavenly realm? 

Hope.  It is an essential Christian value; it is a precious treasure that lives in that space beyond our seeing.  According to St. Paul, “Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen?  But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience (Romans 8:24-25).”  What is more, all of the creation shares this unseeable spiritual reality as it groans and waits for God to generate new life, whereby setting it from the shackles of decay and death.   We hope because we seek reconnection for our broken lives; we yearn for God, the source of all life, to write the next chapter of Genesis with us included.  Living in the midst of messy contradictions and paradoxes, we find ourselves confronted with the unlikeliness that this will ever happen; we resist by not getting our ‘hope’ too high.  Still, with the fragment of the Divine spark in our gullet, we can’t help ourselves.  We hope with high hopes because that is how God created us.

Psalm 131 concludes with a hope that is communal.  We find ourselves in another spiritual paradox between the individual and communal.  We were created by God to hope and trust deeply in the relationship that God established with each of us.  Hope is an intimate thing – between our hearts and God’s heart.  And, it is also corporate.  Hope exists in the context of a community that encompasses the whole creation.  We groan along with the Redwoods in mystical forests for God to redeem.  Hope seeks the renewal of ALL brokenness and decay.  It looks to a future, that lies beyond our sight when God will establish right relationships between all life in the universe.  To do this, it borrows the vision of eternity and the language of ‘forevermore.’   As a community of faith and struggle (borrowing Letty Russell’s definition of ‘church’), we sing hope-filled songs of redemption for the whole creation, and we are inspired to walk the ascending trail that heads in God’s direction.  That direction, of course, is the same one that leads from the cross to empty tomb. 

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Copyrighted 2017. Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

Hiking Up A Rocky and Uneven Path

The following comes from my 2017 Lenten series.

“O Israel, hope in the Lord!

For with the Lord there is steadfast love,

and with him is great power to redeem.” 

Psalm 130: 7

The first half of the hike among the ancient ruins at the top of the mountain was flat.  The second half of the hike was not.  Let’s talk elevation.   When we were walking along the path to the 44-foot diameter excavated Great Kiva, we were at 7,400 feet above sea level.  Fun fact: St. James Lutheran in Burnsville is 819 feet above sea level.  It was no wonder that we were feeling the effects of altitude!

To see the twin spires from the Great House Pueblo, the goal of our trek, we needed to ascend two hundred feet more up a challenging unimproved trail.  The trail was not open to traffic without a tour guide.  It was a tricky climb, but as we took it slowly, it wasn’t so bad. 

When you hike up a rocky and uneven path, the conditions of the trail impose upon you a decorum of caution.  I suppose there is always the possibility of recklessness.  Fools can be found in every environment (been there myself a time or two).  Rocky paths, though, have a sobering effect.  On the path to the Great House Pueblo, there were no guard rails or fences; it was just a narrow path with a steep drop.  Caution.  Slow.  Careful. 

Thinking back on the walk to the top, I reflect upon how different that travel was from my usual walk.  Too often in my daily walk, I walk careless steps.  I’m usually on the busy side, so I scurry from place to place without paying much attention.  A month ago, I found myself unexpectedly on my hindquarters; didn’t see the ice before it pulled my feet from under me.  Not paying attention can hurt our physical and spiritual bodies.  We need to recognize that the way that we walk is important.   

As I made my way upwards along the same path the ancient peoples traveled (the trail wasn’t wide enough for many other possibilities), I was using a walking stick.  I have found that when I’m hiking, it helps to have something to hold onto, something with which to support your weight and give greater stability.  When I use a walking stick, I find that I’m more intentional about walking.

As disciples of Jesus, we are invited to walk with intentionality down the path that leads to a cross.  The cross calls into question our careless romping through life.  The cross highlights the dangerous terrain that lies ahead and invites a caution and intentionality.  Carefully watching our steps, we are invited to lean on hope.  Hope in the promises of God.  Trust in the relationship that we have with God and upon God’s track record.  The Psalmist above recalls that with God there is “great power to redeem.”  Redeem.  Save. Renew.  Reconnect to life.

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Copyrighted 2017. Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

The Squiggle Experience

The following comes from the Lenten series “When the Path Gets Rocky, 2018”

Scripture: Mark 9:38-41

John said to him, "Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us." But Jesus said, "Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.

REFLECTION QUESTIONS:

Have you ever felt threatened by the generosity or faith of another?  Do you consider your belief the only way to have faith? How open are you to God working outside the boundaries of the Christian community, tradition, and your faith understanding?  How big is your concept of God?

FIVE-MINUTE STORY:

Ever since I can remember, I have enjoyed drawing.  For me, to have a pencil in hand and the space of a blank page for creating is satisfying.  Throughout elementary school and high school, I drew a variety of things from doodles in the margins of my notebooks to detailed sketches with shading.  When I reached college, I was excited for the opportunity to take a drawing class as one of my liberal arts credits. I never had a drawing class, and I was sure that I could benefit from some technical training.  With enthusiasm, I gathered all the supplies ahead of time.

With pencils, eraser, and a brand new sketchbook in hand, I entered the large studio classroom.  The professor walked in and made his way to the chalkboard. Silently, he started to sketch an apple.  It was a nice looking apple, complete with shading. On the other side of the chalkboard, he scribbled a squiggle.  When done, he addressed the class; “Class, which is the true representation?”

I sensed a set-up.  True representation?  The apple looked like an apple.  The squiggle didn’t look like anything at all.  As I deliberated, a more adventurous classmate responded, “the apple!”  Wrong. The squiggle? Right!

Huh?  Bewildered, I listened to the teacher’s explanation, “The squiggle was being true to itself - it was a squiggle and nothing more.  The other image, however, was pretending to be an apple. The image of the apple lacks integrity because it was not true to itself.”

After class, I left the art studio and marched straight to the Registrar to drop the course. I was not ready for philosophy.   I wanted to be taught to draw what I saw. Looking back, the "squiggle experience" threatened me. It operated outside my carefully scripted world.

Sadly, I missed an opportunity to not only develop my artistic skill but also to expand my thinking.  I wasn’t ready for this type of growth. At the time, I was too focused on mirroring and copying the world around me, that I couldn’t grasp underlying truths.  I was also too obsessed with grades. I couldn’t risk my grade point average to a class where the professor had “weird” ideas.

Looking back to the sketches in my drawing pads, they tell a story.  I tried to capture every detail of what my eyes witnessed. In the process, these images lack emotion and fail to connect with the heart.  I sought elusive perfection and precision. I missed the beauty and imperfection of life that good art brings to bear upon our conscience.

I regret my not having the courage to stay in that class.  I know now that I would have benefited from the strange lessons that would have challenged my carefully guarded assumptions.  But I wasn’t ready, and there is something to be said about the wisdom of the student needing to find the teacher. Now, I am finally open to learning from squiggles.

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Copyrighted 2018. Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

With Thanks in the Coastland

The following comes from WITH THANKS. For more information (click here). You can subscribe to this series - at checkout, enter discount code: TOP25 to receive 25% off the purchase price.

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“Sing to the LORD a new song,
his praise from the end of the earth!
Let the sea roar and all that fills it,
the coastlands and their inhabitants..
Let them give glory to the LORD,
and declare his praise in the coastlands.””

— Isaiah 42: 10 & 11

photo taken by Mark Lichtenberger, Big Sur, California.

Highway 1 winds up the western coast. It is an iconic road, captured many times both in film and in the hearts of those who have driven its constantly curving path.

Although it has been a few years since I drove Highway 1, it is hard to forget the thrill. As I carefully followed the winding road, keeping on my side of the double-line, I was awestruck. The scenery of the California cliffs was spellbinding and caused my eyes to wander from asphalt surface to the surrounding natural beauty.

On the stretch of the highway between Los Angeles and Big Sur, with the Santa Lucia Mountains to the east and the Pacific Ocean to the west, we stopped a few times for pictures.

On a beach somewhere, we saw the blubbery masses of Elephant Seals occupy the sand. Respectfully keeping our distance, we watched these ocean beasts as they waddled and belched an ancient song of barks and roars.

At another rest stop, a lighthouse, we listened to the crash of the waves as they beat against the rocky shore. Along with the noise of water below, we could hear the wind as it pushed against our backs.

When we arrived at Big Sur, we pulled over once more. Walking from our parked vehicle, we made our way to a guardrail perched atop the cliff. From there we were treated with the silence of a sunset. Golden rays stretched far into the horizon as they touched the far edge of the visible ocean.

What a glorious cacophony that the coastlands make! Nature lifts its voice to the heavens with a magnificence not matched easily. Those who find the time to stop along the curving and the busy road can not only hear its song but delight in its praise!

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Prayer:

Gracious God,

what wondrous things you have made! The works of your hands exceed my ability to sing your praise. Still, I find myself compelled to try; how can I remain silent in the face of your splendor? You inspire awe in my heart! You cause the very core of my being to delight. Creator, you exceed all expectations and constructions of my doing. Thanks and praise to you!

Through Christ, Amen.

Copyrighted 2018. Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

Lunch With Neil

The following comes from the Lenten series “When the Path Gets Rocky, 2018”

Mark 5:1-13

They came to the other side of the sea, to the country of the Gerasenes. And when he had stepped out of the boat, immediately a man out of the tombs with an unclean spirit met him. He lived among the tombs; and no one could restrain him any more, even with a chain; for he had often been restrained with shackles and chains, but the chains he wrenched apart, and the shackles he broke in pieces; and no one had the strength to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always howling and bruising himself with stones. When he saw Jesus from a distance, he ran and bowed down before him; and he shouted at the top of his voice, "What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment me." For he had said to him, "Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!" Then Jesus asked him, "What is your name?" He replied, "My name is Legion; for we are many." He begged him earnestly not to send them out of the country. Now there on the hillside a great herd of swine was feeding; and the unclean spirits begged him, "Send us into the swine; let us enter them." So he gave them permission. And the unclean spirits came out and entered the swine; and the herd, numbering about two thousand, rushed down the steep bank into the sea, and were drowned in the sea.

REFLECTION QUESTIONS:

What are the “demons” that are unruly in your spirit?  What are the places in your life that you find yourself isolated from others?  When do you feel most disconnected with God?

FIVE-MINUTE STORY:

Every year in the springtime and autumn - like the seasonal blooming of the crocus and the falling of the leaves- Neil would pop up at the church office.  He was a wanderer and lived without a home.  He had long scraggly, unkept hair with a beard to match.  His earth toned clothes hung on his body in a deflated manner.  

The first time I encountered Neil, I was taken aback and startled by his appearance.  In a respectful and humble manner, he asked for a few dollars.  Normally, I am very suspicious of such requests.  I usually listen, however, to the hardship story that always follows.  If it sounds sincere, then I will extend some resources and wish them on their way.  True to my practice, I listened to Neil tell his story.

Neil told me of his travels up and down the eastern seaboard.  He moved in the direction of warmth - south in the winter, north in the summer (he didn’t like it too warm.) He was well spoken and belied a lot of my personal stereotypes.  The first of my semi-annual visits from Neil finished in a congenial manner with a laugh or two. I later learned from my colleague, Pastor Mac, that Neil was a seasonal visitor - Spring and Fall.  Every year.  He'd come and we would help him out.

The last time that I saw Neil, it was in the spring.  He visited Faith Lutheran Church around lunchtime.  At the time, I was taking a doctoral class on eucharist and the role that meals played in the faith formation of the early Church.  An actual meal was part of the weekly worship life of the first Christians.  They shared this meal (or didn’t - see 1 Corinthians 11:17-22) with all who gathered - rich and poor ate in communion together.  What is more, when they broke bread they understood that the Risen Christ was present among them.  This insight inspired me to ask Neil a question.  Would you like to go to lunch?  

I drove us to a nearby diner.  There we ordered sandwiches and had time to talk over strong coffee.  I learned something of Neil’s story and struggle.  Neil shared anecdotes from his travels -about which towns and churches extended welcome and which did not.  Life was not easy for Neil.  He had his share of demons and trials.  We didn’t get into much detail.  In a way resembling Neil’s travels, our conversation wandered and rambled as we consumed our French fries. 

When we finished lunch, I asked him if he needed a ride.  When I arrived at the corner that he requested, he shook my hand with thanks.  As his large and shaggy frame exited my vehicle, his wrinkled and weather-worn face bore a smile. 

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Copyrighted 2018. Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

Hiking An Ice Field

The following comes from “UP: Lenten Journey, 2017”

The trail curved around the alpine ridge and it started to decline.  At this point, we would turn away from the view of Mt. Rainier that accompanied us up the ridge trail.  Now we would be looking out across the vast valley and unnamed purple-hewed peaks in the distance.  Descending, I could feel the muscles in my legs ache in different places.  The pace of the hike slowed with a sense of caution.  There were no guard rails.  If you fell at this point, there would not be much to stop your falling, perhaps fatally, down the mountainside.

Ahead, the rocky and dirt trail disappeared into a large snow field.  On the way up the ridge, this happened for a brief spell.  Snow at this altitude has little motivation to melt.  The snow field that met us on our ascent was fun and somewhat whimsical.  Imagine, snow in July!  It remained on a somewhat gentle slope.  Previous hikers had cut a clear path through the snow/ice.  Though there were no guardrails to stop a downward tumble, it didn’t seem likely to happen here.   However, on the other side of the ridge, which the width of the mountain originally prevented us from seeing, the snow field was a different story. 

Instead of a short snow crossing, the snow field was at least two city blocks long!   What is more, the slope on which the snow rested increased significantly.  “Oh Boy,” said I to myself.  To add additional challenge and complexity to the situation, the path cut through the snow was extremely narrow.  Evidently, the number of hikers that traveled this way was fewer.  Either that or their feet were smaller! 

It would be good to mention that we weren’t alone on this hike.  Although the Lichtenberger Four was a solitary expedition, throughout the day, we saw others.  Maybe a couple of dozen people were also out enjoying the trails.   When we approached the steep snowfield (which also didn’t have any guardrails, safety nets, or fence to prevent a rapid descent into the valley), there were others around.  We just passed a church group (you could tell from their Jesus sweatshirts; besides, pastors are somewhat easy to spot).  Halfway through the snowfield was a group that matched our size.   We would wait until they made it through until we started down the treacherous terrain.

I should mention at this point that all the members of the Lichtenberger Four party had hiking sticks.  Over the years, over many trails, I have found a hiking stick to be an essential piece of gear.  With a hiking stick in hand, you have better balance and can navigate tricky spots.   The snowfield we faced on that high altitude trail certainly qualified as a ‘tricky spot.’    Carefully we stuck our hiking sticks into the snow above and began the crossing.  Leaning upward, slowly we place one boot in front of the other.  Looking down (though I did from time to time) was not a good idea.  Slow.  Steady.  Forward.  At one point, we encountered a group of hikers on their way up that were in too much of a hurry to wait for us to clear the field.  We stopped, leaned on our sticks, and let the impatient ones walk downhill around us. 

Eventually, we accomplished our goal; we made it safely through!  Yay!  I must confess, at that point, I was ready to give a press conference to the National Geographic folks – the adventurer self-image that lives in my imagination doubled in size.    Seriously, the hike that had treated us to such wonderful views of Mt. Rainier blessed us with an adventure that would not soon be forgotten.

As the trail left the snowfield behind, we came to a sign that someone posted in the middle of the trail.  From the direction we were traveling, you could not see what it read.  Curious, we looked on the other side.   With an ironic chuckle, we read; “Caution: Steep Icy Slopes Ahead. Ice Axe Recommended.”  Sometimes, you just have to laugh. 

Our spirituality, from time to time, would benefit from a chuckle or too.   Life can be, after all, absurd.  It doesn’t make sense and trying to wrestle meaning out of every last minute is funny.  What is more, the contradictions in life provide abundant fodder for our very own late-night comedy sketch.   A perpetually serious demeanor holds to the lie that an undisturbed order and meaning undergirds everything.  Some call it purpose and maintain that it drives meaningful and successful lives.  Really? Ha!  

Such thinking ignores or tries to explain away the rough places where life is unfair or doesn’t quite add up.  If God is the provider of purpose, then God must also be the provider of tragedy.  Do we want to go there? 

What if instead of carefully constructed order and meaning to the universe (and our lives) and resting in a comfortable corner office while creation figures it all out, God is in the midst of the absurdities and contradictions.  The cross locates Divine presence in the very place of contradiction; God chooses the deadly cross to be a place of life rather than a place of death.  Absurd.   So absurd, in fact, that it brings the kind of laughter that welcomes unfathomable joy. 

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Copyrighted 2017. Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

Rainbows

The following comes from “UP: Lenten Journey, 2017”

Leaving the Wapiti Campground, which is near the town of Jasper in the northern section of the park, we headed out early for a full day’s adventure.  The first stop would take about a half-hour drive to reach:  Athabasca Falls.  Not the tallest waterfalls by any measurement, this falls is famous for the sheer volume of water that cascades into the gorge.  The sound and spray are all encompassing as you stand at the observation alcoves.   As I watched nature’s fury, the early morning sun and the water molecules combined to form a rainbow. 

I love rainbows.  For some reason, they always come as a surprise to me.  That was certainly the case with the rainbow that I saw at Athabasca Falls.  Instead of hanging in the sky, the rainbow was down in the midst of the gorge.  It playfully caressed the hard rock that the water was rushing over. 

Some are quick to point out the science behind rainbows.  They are, after all, an optical illusion that occurs when you view water droplets at a certain angle relative to a light source.   After a rain shower on a sunny day, as the air is still moist, you are likely to see a rainbow.  At the falls, with all the airborne water droplets, rainbows commonly appear.

For me, they live in the place of spirit and delight which science fails to describe.  With childlike glee, I will announce, “Look a rainbow!”  I want others to share in the joy and fleeting experience.  Rainbows don’t last forever.  When moisture levels change, angles of light change, rainbows can disappear.

Rainbows have spiritual significance for those who read the Bible.  The Noahic covenant involved a rainbow as a sign of the covenant that God made with Noah that creation would never be destroyed again by a flood (see Genesis 9:12-16).   It is the first covenant made by God in scripture, and it is truly a covenant with all creation.  Rainbows remind us of God’s desire that life continues in all its complexity, diversity, and even brokenness.  That said, the rainbow reminds God too: “When the bow is in the clouds, I [God] will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creation of all flesh that is on the earth (Genesis 9:16)."  God remembers the promises made to all living things with the help of rainbows.  Cool thought!

The covenant that God made with Noah and all living things (by extension that includes us) is but the first of many covenants in which the Creator relates to the created.  Even after humanity breaks its end of the covenants, God remains merciful and moves in the direction of forgiveness and liberation.  We are liberated, freed, from the things that prevent us from living life fully as God’s children.  Freed by the grace and mercy of God so that we might live as children of God.  Liberated that we might orient our lives in the direction of the Spirit.  What does this mean?

It means that we have work to do.  The work of opening ourselves to the Spirit’s movement as it builds community and seeks to bring people together.   It is to be a co-creator and care for this planet, for the rainbow forming water that rushes over the rocks.  To care also for the relationships that God has entrusted to us.  Our family and friends – to be sure.  But also to be open to the possibility of caring for the stranger and the outsider.  Here, we are invited to think beyond the Christian family; honor and respect all humanity.  For all bear the image and the promise of the Creator. 

When our prejudice or short-sightedness gets in the way, then we need to look up.  When our spiritual arrogance wants to claim exclusive rights to God’s care, then we need to look up at the moisture rich air with the sun at our backs.  When we are so caught up in our little worlds that we lose sight of the bigger picture, then it’s time to look for rainbows.   Look and remember.  Delight in the freedom God has given us to be alive.  God is looking too! 

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Copyrighted 2017. Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

With Thanks For Flowers in Badlands

The following comes from WITH THANKS. For more information (click here). You can subscribe to this series - at checkout, enter discount code: TOP25 to receive 25% off the purchase price.

At times it feels like you are on the moon when you are driving through the Badlands of South Dakota. The ever-eroding landscape is full of barren peaks and valleys filled with sand, silt, and clay. You have to look at the edges of this 'other-worldly' place to see trees and waterways.

The high plateau where Bison graze contain the only real shades of green. There the tops of grass dance with the wind in a timeless enchantment.

On one of my trips to this favored park, I was surprised to see a Sunflower in the most unexpected of places. It wasn’t on the grazing plate of the Bison. Instead, this flower was in the midst of the dry and life-less clay. It wasn't big, like the commercially grown varieties. Somehow, its hardy seed landed on the hard surface of the parched earth. Perhaps it fell into a crack and waited for the infrequent visit of rain.

Spring comes even to dry places. When the water falls from the sky, it rushes quickly over the land hardened by the sun. This dangerous torrent cuts new paths, contributing to the erosion that needs no assistance.

It also finds its way into the crevices where patient seeds lay in hope.

With water, these seeds bloom and reach towards the baking sun. For a moment, the desert blooms. In many places, suddenly, there is growth and green.

As I delighted in the sight of a single sunflower, my eyes opened to see others. I felt privileged to be surrounded by spring in a place where I had only known the absence of green life. It came as an unexpected gift and a new experience. Even in badlands, flowers bloom. Thanks be to God!

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Prayer:

Gracious God,

you water the desert and cause flowers to bloom in the most hostile of places. Seep into the deepest places of my being with your love. Allow my spirit to grow large enough to break through layers of my indecision, inaction, biases, and resistance. Blossom in me, so that I might reflect your life to those I encounter this day.

Through Christ, Amen.

Copyrighted 2018. Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

The Parable of the Acorn

The following was originally posted as part of “Backyard Parables”:

Parable:

What then shall we compare the Kingdom of heaven?  What parable should we use?  It is like the first acorn that falls from the tree in late summer.  Thud.  From a place high in the oak tree, this small nut crashes unto the backyard deck.  It hits hard enough to make a sound, then rolls ever so slightly after impact.  The first of many acorns to fall, it is a sign of things to come.  This marks the beginning of a changing of seasons.  Soon, dozens of acorns will follow; so many that the homeowner will have to sweep them on a daily basis to walk on the deck.

What does this parable mean?  

The Word of God is the acorn.  From above, it breaks into our everyday lives as both a sign and a promise.  It is a sign that the Kingdom of God is at hand.  As we live life, we will receive more and more reminders of the close nature of God’s Kingdom.  God’s Word not only points to the presence of the Kingdom but also to its power of transformation.  God’s Word changes our lives whenever it is heard and taken to heart.  Here are promise and hope.  When we respond to the call for justice and peace, boldly proclaimed by God’s Word, we participate in the change God is bringing to bear on our broken lives.  Let those with ears listen!    

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Prayer:

Gracious God, change me.  Open my heart in those places where it is closed.  Forgive my hardness and terseness as I lose patience with others.  Replace my impatience, self-centered nature, and prejudice with your love and hospitality.  Align my life and values with your grace so that I might participate in your kingdom that has broken into this world in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.   Through Christ, Amen.

Copyrighted 2018. Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

The Parable of the Dandelion

The following was originally posted as part of “Backyard Parables”:

Parable:

The Kingdom of God is as if someone blew the seed head of a dandelion causing dozens of fluffy seed ‘parachutes’ to scatter over their lawn.  Each tiny seed that floats upon the wind will find a way to the ground.  It will take root and grow into a dandelion.  Soon, the lawn will produce more dandelion flowers.  These flowers will continue to multiply as each flower turns into a seed head.  With more breath and the wind, these seed parachutes will also scatter.  The cycle continues until yellow-orange dandelions carpet the entire lawn.  I tell you, it won’t be long until the dandelions leave that yard and multiply throughout the neighborhood.  

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Prayer:

Gracious God, your love is contagious.  Try as I might contain your love as a private treasure, it moves me to share with others.  Your loving presence will not rest for long.  Instead of resisting or limiting or being stingy with your grace, forgiveness, and compassion motivate me to increased generosity.  Strengthen my giving so that others might know of your love through my words and deeds.  Let me not stop.  Guide my living according to your radical hospitality.  Use me to love others - family, friends, strangers, enemies.  Through Jesus Christ, Amen. 

Copyrighted 2018. Walt Lichtenberger. All rights reserved.

Being A Part of God's Dream

The following was originally posted as part of “With Thanks”:

“Rejoice continually, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.””

— 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Every parent has dreams for their children. From the moment of their arrival, we imagine what the future might be like for them and set about making plans on their behalf. Some of our schemes are elaborately plotted - often to the frustration of the kids! Other designs are more laid back and fluid - more direction, less detail.

It is not a far stretch to say that most, if not all, people want their children to be healthy and happy. We want them to be filled with joy and make a positive contribution to the greater good. In short, we want them to love and to know love in their life.

The dream of love is one that our heavenly parent has for us and all of our human siblings. You can sum up scripture by saying that it is a love story between the God of steadfast love and God's beloved humanity. God loves and remains faithful even when people do not. God's love refuses to give up.

The life of Jesus embodies this enduring love. When we read the stories of Jesus' kindness, compassion, and inclusion - we read the next chapter in God's love story. Jesus forms a community with a command to love one another.

Through our baptisms, God links us to this community and to the mission to carry on with Jesus' love. Together, we are strengthened by the Spirit to help bring about God's dream of love.

Living a life of gratitude, we enter into God's dream of love. When we express thanks, we recognize that there is a bigger plan to which we belong. Appreciation for the PLACES, PEOPLE, and our PERSON encourages humility and generosity. Our energy, purpose, and focus turn outward - which is the same direction in which Jesus lived.

We won't always get it right. Most days we won't in spite of our most sincere efforts. We will cause heartache for God as we withhold our love and act in unloving ways. Still, by grace, God does not abandon but instead forgives. God keeps holding onto the dream of love for us.

What joy to continue to be part of God's dream! Thanks be to God!

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Prayer:

Gracious God, let me rejoice in your love for me and others. With thanks, help me to take part in your dream for this hurting world that you continue to love. Through Christ, Amen.

Volcano in Remission

The following was originally posted on August 6, 2016.  It has been edited:

As we looked across the vulcanized valley we could still see the wreckage of nature's fury. Thirty three years after the eruption, forests of dead trees lie in the direction of the famed blast. Volcanic debris covers like a funeral pall across what once was a lush arboreal garden. At the Johnson visitor's center, Mount St. Helens looms large. Even though clouds crowned the summit, we could see well into the crater that bears evidence to the magnitude and raw power of that moment when the mountain awoke.

It was a solemn and quite place where the wind speaks strong. In the very place that I was standing, it took only forty seconds for the blast to reach on that fateful morning in 1983. Forty seconds after the Mountain belched, this place, which is five and a half miles away, was forever changed. Forty seconds before that, the mountain was 'dormant' or to use common parlance was in 'remission'.

"Remission" is a uneasy word. Those who suffer from chronic illness know this.  Even though they might long to hear it when the word 'cure' is not able to be spoken.  "Remission" means that for the moment there is an opportunity to live unfettered. There is also a chance that the moment might extend for a few years. When in remission, one lives in the wishful hope that maybe a cure will be found or maybe the volcano has gone dormant forever.

The sad truth is that volcanoes remain active below the surface. One of the lessons from St. Helens is that there is movement before eruptions. Under the surface, steam and lava are in cycles of building up and releasing pressure. Information gathered by scientists from the volcanic activity on this summit has sharpened the predictive tools of those who monitor these resting giants. Next time that St. Helens explodes we will be better prepared for the unstoppable blast, ash, and destruction. Even so, diagnostics can not hold eruptions at bay. The volcano will eventually do what it is that volcanoes do. Remission does not last indefinitely.

But life goes on... Therein lies the hope that is woven into even the most destructive portions of creation. Even though it might be changed forever, life goes on in the tiny delicate flowers that desperately cling to the side of barren hillsides. Life continues in the crunchy moss and lichens. Life goes on, beyond the time when remission and destruction ends. For life belongs not to the disease or the eruption but to the maker of heaven and earth.