Life Goes On, Differently

The following comes from a blog published on August 20, 2018

It has been a week, and the earth remains in orbit, the stars are fixed in the sky, and the sun still comes up.  On the cosmic scale, everything seems to be pretty much the same as it was seven days ago.  Closer to home, we are hanging in there.  Since we have dropped off Noah at the University of Minnesota, Duluth, it has been one hundred fifty-two hours, but who's counting?  I'm not sure whether I think the time has gone quicker or slower than usual; this I know, life has gone on.  My family is all settling into the new paradigm.  Noah is doing well during his first week at UMD marching band camp; he seems to love it all.  

Meanwhile back at the ranch, things are simultaneously different and the same.  As a family, we went to church on Sunday and saw our friends.  We also took a trip to a local home store to get the supplies to fix up a drain pipe.  I grilled some tasty ribs in the smoker to share with friends.  It was all standard stuff that felt kinda normal.  Of course, throughout all of it, we missed Noah.  

It was strange, not to see him bound down the stairs on Saturday morning ready for the projects of the day.   Odd to talk with him only on text/phone at the end of the day, knowing that he would be sleeping somewhere else.  Life is just different without him being here.   I'm reminded of this reality at weird moments:  I'm getting a tool from the garage, and I glance over at his workbench; I'm taking clothes out of the dryer, and I grab one of his t-shirts;  I walk past a picture of the boys on a trip we took to the Badlands.  Memories fall like an unexpected rain at the most unusual times.  Our loved ones fill a critical space on the territory of our daily lives.  When they are physically gone away, that space feels empty.  

As I describe my grief, it will sound a little peculiar to those who have suffered the death of a loved one.  Let me be clear, these griefs are not the same.  Noah is only two hours away by car and only nanoseconds away by phone.  I can contact at almost any time if I need assurance that he is alright.  I will see him again in the not too distant future.

Still, there is grief.   No matter the source, when grief comes into our heart, it demands our attention.  We need to make peace with the absence of a loved one by embracing new realities of our relationship.   Whether we like it or not, this requires a fair bit of openness and a "letting go" of the past.    This can be quite the challenge.   

Here's how I'm facing this test.  I'm turning to a few of my creative outlines.  Writing the Lighting Your Way, With Love daily inspiration series (which will be available for PRE-ORDER on August 24) is causing me to put thoughts to paper.  It is helping me to sort through not only the emotions but also the spiritual dimension of having a son start a significant new chapter in his life.  

I am also delighting in the close relationships of family and friends.   This past weekend, I was intentional to make sure that I spent quality time with others.  It was helpful to be reminded that even when a significant part of our life changes, our whole life doesn't.  Some patterns and relationships remain familiar.  It was a blessing to be reminded of this at worship yesterday.  

Life goes on, differently.  Ultimately, this can be a blessing and a sign that God continues to be engaged in creative processes.  The future remains open with possibility.  Things and relationships that we can't imagine now, especially if we are in the midst of some sort of grief, are waiting to be brought into being.    

With hope and a thankful heart for God's presence through it all, I am a little excited for what is to come.

In Christ,
Walt

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Copyright 2018. Walt Lichtenberger. Permission granted to share with family and friends.

When Your Baby Isn't A Baby Anymore

The following comes from a blog published on August 13, 2018

Tomorrow, we will be dropping off a baby on the doorstep of a University.  Well, not exactly.  My baby isn't a baby anymore.  It has been true for a few years now; even in my mind's eye, I no longer have a baby or a child.  Instead, I am proud of the young man that I call my son (this is a statement that I can speak in the plural; I am proud of the young men that I call my sons.)  And tomorrow, about mid-day, Katie and I will drop Noah off at the University of Minnesota, Duluth.  

As you can imagine, this is a time of transition for our family.  It is a significant change that is filled mostly with excitement.  Something that we have planned for and Noah has worked very hard towards achieving.  No doubt, there will be tears that accompany us as we head away from campus.  But these will be the tears of new beginnings.  Salted with the apprehension of what's next, they are also rich with the minerals of possibilities.  Dreams are in the process of forming as Noah leaves home.  Already he is in the starting stages of imagining a career and a life beyond his family of origin.   As his father, I can't wait to see what this talented, kind-hearted person decides to do.  I am trying to be patient and not rush things.  Still, it does not harm me to wonder. 

Wonder and write.  That is the creative work that I find myself engaged in during these days of transition.  I am busy at work on a new daily, 5-minute inspiration series called Lighting Your Way, With Love.  Within the context of Noah starting University, I am writing down a summary of the faith that has sustained, challenged, and allowed me to grow as a child of God.  In forty short segments, I write about God, caring for the planet, dealing with fear/evil, loving neighbor, and honoring self.  Though not an exhaustive systematic theology, these ideas come from the working theology that I've developed from over two decades of pastoral ministry and over four decades of living.   I share this with my son as a way of offering him something spiritual to hold onto as he heads out.  He is not a baby anymore, and neither is his faith.   It is my prayer that over the coming years as his dreams come into greater focus so too will his faith.  As we all do, he needs to grow, stretch, rest, and be restless in his belief.   Faith is a dynamic aspect of life - it rises and falls, increases and declines, lives and dies and lives anew.  

Though I'm writing to Noah, I'm also guessing that others might find my efforts of some use in their spiritual lives.  It seems like we are all in some transition or another.  When life shifts around us, it is good to return to our most basic and foundational values.  It is helpful for us to ask: Who are we as God's created beings; how do we relate to others and the world God made?  

As I ruminate on such matters, a ticking clock reminds me that a bunch of things beckons my attention before we drive tomorrow to Duluth.  I got to go.  More to come next week - stay tuned.

In Christ,
Walt

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Copyright 2018. Walt Lichtenberger. Permission granted to share with family and friends.

Lives Open to Christmas Joy

blog first published on December 23, 2015

We are open to decorating our homes with brightly colored lights; so much so that we might even grumble about those whose houses remain dark.  We are open to family traditions; so much so that we might eat things that we don't really like.  We are open to so much that Christmas has become in our popular culture; so much so that we uncritically accept the commercialization that is readily sold in the mall and online.   We layer our holiday festivities with so many things and fill our schedules with so many commitments that we might secretly long for the calm after the storm.  I wonder, are our lives really open to Christmas and its unique joy? 

Since "JOY" is one of the tags that is associated with this time of year, it might seem a silly thing to ask, "are we open to Christmas joy?"  What meaning is there to be found in the word paring "Christmas Joy" ?

It seems to me that the answers are not to be found in either our cultural formulations of Christmas or in overused pietist  slogans such as "Jesus is the reason for the season".  If we turn to the sacred sources for our holiday observance as Christians we find something altogether different.  Nestled in the hills of Bethlehem (gospel of Luke) or in the metaphoric exchange of darkness and light (gospel of John) or in the magi's visit (gospel of Matthew) we find the entrance of God's kingdom into the struggled existence of humanity.  

Christmas Joy is not a product of human emotion but is rather a Divine gift.  It comes proclaimed in the midst of dark and broken relationships, systems, and communities.  It comes as a counterpoint to Evil, despair, and forces beyond our control.  It comes to free and break the chains of bondage, injustice, and oppression.  It comes clothed with love and grace to open new possibilities for life.  It comes in glimpses of restored existence from a God that dreams of banquets that bring all people together.

In anticipation of Christmas Joy, I look forward to the Eucharistic celebrations that I will have the privilege to take part in this week.  We will come to the table from a variety of places along the journey.  There will be familiar faces and names that I do not yet know.  There will be those who are fully engaged in the worship and others that seem somewhat uneasy about it all.  There will be those who are experiencing great loss - of loved ones, health, employment, and relationships- and others who are bombastic in happiness.  No matter, it is my expectant hope that around the table, Christmas Joy will be made known and embraced.  

What is more, it is my fervent prayer that Christmas Joy might spark a joyful response in the hearts of those who are fed with God's own presence.  As in the story of the shepherds, Christmas Joy inspired them to go and tell what God has done.  They were changed in the moment of encountering the Christ.  So may it be with us.  

Lives open to Christmas Joy are ultimately lives that respond beyond themselves.  The response of the shepherds, disciples, magi - all indicate that Christmas Joy changes life itself.  It shifts perspective, opens hearts, and makes possible life beyond fear, despair, and darkness.  It creates community that is centered in love and finds itself compelled to share that love with those outside.  This reality is one for which I pray and look forward to as we prepare for Eucharistic celebration.  To find ourselves forever changed (or at least a shift in the right direction) would be a welcome blessing.  

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.

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.

Imagine: You Are Never alone

From Walt’s 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 follow-up 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 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 the 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

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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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Are You Losing Your Grip?

The following comes from a blog published on August 6, 2018

When we are in a time of transition, it can feel as though we are losing our grip.  We might be holding on for dear life - with both hands - yet somehow things are slipping through our grasp.  It is a horrible feeling to see what we once had (our previous experience of 'normal') slowly drift and shift away from us.  With this departure comes the stark realization that we are not really in control.    

When I was a kid, we had a set of monkey bars in my backyard.  My Dad and Grandpa built what amounted to be a horizon ladder of iron bars onto an older metal swingset.  Hand over hand, you would move from one side to the other.  Sometimes I would hang from the bars to see how long I could last.  Though I managed to hold on for a few minutes, there would always come the point when my hands would lose their grip.  My unrealistic goal of dangling indefinitely, which would have been a clear illustration of my 'super strength,' was never achieved.  I always lost grip, my hands invariably slipped.   

So it goes as we desperately try to hold onto the past and what once was.  Despite our efforts, we don't have the strength for indefinite dangling.  Eventually, our sore hands and tired arms will give out.  When that happens, we fall to the ground.  Midst life transitions,  the horrible experience of 'losing our grip' is par for the course.  Change suddenly thrust upon us - even the good stuff - can make us despair and cry out.   What is more, there is a spiritual dimension to all of this.  As our hands slip, we might wonder where we can find God?

Jesus' earthly ministry occurred at a time of great transition and uneasiness.  The old understandings of God and faithfulness came into direct conflict with the heart of Jesus' (and John the Baptist's) preaching.  To a people who were losing grip, the message was basic:  trust in God and repent, the Kingdom of God is at hand.  Trust (also translated 'believe") is not to be confused with strict adherence to a list of fundamental doctrines, as the Pharisees advocated.  Instead, it is the deep yearning for connection to the Creator all the while knowing that we are permanently attached to God's steadfast love and faithfulness.   Huh?  

It is a bit of a paradox.  From the moment of our first breath, God's spirit is present in our life.  Our very existence depends on the constant renewing breath of life.  AND, we are on a continual journey of seeking God's Spirit.  To quote St. Augustine; "Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee."  Simultaneously we are linked with God (by God's good grace) and we are disconnected (by our insatiable need always be in control and do things our way).  

When Jesus announces that the Kingdom of God is near, he points to the spiritual reality that God has never left our life or the life of this world.   Trusting in and turning to God's direction of grace, love, and hospitality, we find the truth of Jesus' words.  We begin to see things differently.  Joy and delight appear.  Hope emerges.   

Real repentance, inspired by the teaching and ministry of Jesus, is a redirection of life for the sake of our life with God at this moment and the moments to come. Let me be clear.  Our action of turning and trusting/believing doesn't activate God's love.    God's love is constant and never-ending.   Our turning towards God does, however, make a difference in how we experience that love - it makes it real for us.  When we recognize God's love, we take residence in it.    

Dwelling in God's presence, life takes on a new vibrancy for us.  Joy and delight come from walking in God's ways.  That doesn't mean that magically everything is perfect and rosy.  But it does mean that there is hope no matter what our new reality might be; we can rest in the knowledge that we are not alone.  God is with us.  What is more, God's love inspires imitation and duplication.   Recipients of steadfast love, we are encouraged to go and do likewise in our interactions with others.  

Love invites us to have courage.  Instead of fretting as we find ourselves losing our grip, love beckons us to let go of a past that is no more.   Love looks to new relationships and experiences for the life that they contain for us.   Let go and with open hands welcome the future in the sure and certain hope that we remain in the reality of God's eternal love and that love will ultimately make us whole. 

In Christ’s Light,
Walt

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You might want to check out my book,Lighting Your Way, With Love.  In it, I reflect upon the experience of my oldest son leaving for a university to talk about navigating transitions.  It contains lots of practical guidance for anyone facing change, no matter the age.  

Lighting Your Way, With Loveis available through Amazon and the Light From This Hill website.  If you order from my website, you receive a bonus - a FREE subscription to the devotional series which presents the content of the book as a daily online devotional sent to your inbox in time for your morning coffee. 

As a reader of IGNITE, enter the code READER (all caps) at checkout and receive 10% off. It is a way for me to say thank you for reading what I have to offer - Walt

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Copyright 2018. Walt Lichtenberger. Permission granted to share with family and friends.

Why is Life so Hard?

The following comes from a blog published on April 29, 2019

Over two decades as a pastor, I have encountered many trials and tribulations in the lives of those whom I have served. It doesn’t matter how old or young, rich or poor, how smart, or how well you plot and plan. Life can be hard. It can get out of hand and beyond our control.

Through the years, I have come to understand that transitions play a serious role in what makes life so tough. Transitions are the moments between what we have come to know as normal and a new reality that has yet to take shape fully.

Transitions are triggered when crucial things happen that change our lives. For example, graduating from high school, receiving a promotion, losing a job, or suffering the death of a loved one. Whether the big event is good or bad, welcome or not, it changes the way we live and interact with others.

Once a life transition occurs, it takes us an indeterminate amount of time to settle into the new groove and pattern of life. Depending on how significant the life-changing event is, the time of transition can be long and arduous.

In walking through many transitions, both with others as a spiritual guide and in my life, I have discovered that it is helpful to ground ourselves spiritually. Prayer and daily devotions can provide consistency when everything is up in the air. They provide an essential tether for our spirit. This is especially true when we take the time BEFORE the transition to daily attend to our spiritual care.

Take time each day to focus on and nurture your spiritual self. Reflect on what God is up to in your life. Breathe and lean into the relationship that God has established with you since the moment of your birth. Engage in holy wonder; ask, where might I encounter God in this day.

Caring for your spirit doesn’t have to be lengthy, involve a lot of props, or get ‘weird.’ Just a few minutes of ‘God-time’ each day will establish a stable pattern that will be a tremendous resource for you when you find yourself in your next transition.

In Christ’s Light,
Walt

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$15.99

Quantity:

Purchase

You might want to check out my book,Lighting Your Way, With Love.  In it, I reflect upon the experience of my oldest son leaving for a university to talk about navigating transitions.  It contains lots of practical guidance for anyone facing change, no matter the age.  

Lighting Your Way, With Loveis available through Amazon and the Light From This Hill website.  If you order from my website, you receive a bonus - a FREE subscription to the devotional series which presents the content of the book as a daily online devotional sent to your inbox in time for your morning coffee. 

As a reader of IGNITE, enter the code READER (all caps) at checkout and receive 10% off. It is a way for me to say thank you for reading what I have to offer - Walt

---

Copyright 2018. Walt Lichtenberger. Permission granted to share with family and friends.

Celia the Cat

The following comes from a blog published on August 6, 2018

Celia, the cat, lives at my home.  Daily, she honors us with her presence.  When I’m feeling particularly silly, I will address her with a deep bow saying, “your Majesty!”  I’m not sure if she likes this or not.  In fact, I'm not sure anyone in my house does.  However, it helps me stay positive in my interactions with this willful creature.  (Full disclosure- I’m more of a dog person.)

Celia likes to go outside.  That said, if you open the door to let her out, she will disregard your efforts.  Instead of holding the door for “your Majesty,” we have to open the door, look the other way, and let her ‘sneak out.’  Oh, the games that we play with our pets!    It is a similar process for letting her in.  She will be sitting outside the back door waiting for you to open the door.  Should you encourage her to come in, Celia will move in a deliberate feline manner and walk away.  Celia is about scooting in and out on her terms.  Period.  That is the way that she plays her game of life.

This morning, I’m thinking about how similar I am to Celia, the cat.  I, too, want to play this game of life on my terms.  I want to go outside when I want to go out.  I, also, can be stubborn when others want me to do something that I don’t want to do.  Who doesn’t like to be in control?

I think it is part of our creaturely wiring (unless we are a dog) to want to set the course and flow of our days.  We even live in a culture that encourages individuality and self-expression.  Be what you can be.  Make this day the best that you can make it.  Etc. 

Unfortunately, these attitudes, as comfortable and ‘right’ as they might seem, can get in the way of our spiritual practices and life.  The goal of spirituality is to connect with the One who made us and all living things.  Though we like to form the Creator in our own image, such efforts are folly.  God stands apart from us and is Holy Other.  With God, there is a mystery that we won’t ever be able to solve or explain away.  

We need to be humble if we genuinely want to tend to the relationship that God established with us from the time of our birth and before.  Hard as it might be, we need to set our agendas, plans, plots, schemes, desires, and self-determined needs aside.  Instead of trying to sneak through the door or refuse to enter when there is an opening, we have to stop all machinations.  Breathe.  Empty.  Be open.  Breathe. 

The connection comes not by our efforts or control.  The link comes as a gift from a Loving God, who deeply desires to connect with creation.  According to God’s Word, God yearns to be in a deeper relationship with you and me and everything else.  Creator loves creation.  That is the whole point behind the Incarnation.  God comes down to the earth to connect with its people, with us.  In the life of Jesus, we see the kind of humility that we ought to imitate. 

Perhaps I need to be taking lessons from Jesus’ life and not my cat!

Hope this note finds you well at the start of another week.  
In Christ’s Light,
Walt  

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Copyright 2018. Walt Lichtenberger. Permission granted to share with family and friends.

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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Copyright 2018. Walt Lichtenberger. Permission granted to share with family and friends.

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.

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If you liked today’s reading, why not try out a daily devotional series? The latest - WELCOME: Sharing in God’s Greeting - begins on Monday, November 4. There is a Pre-publication Sale (thru Nov.4) that will save you 40% off the regular price.

Into the Redwood Forest

blog first published on March 14, 2017

I do not occupy myself with things

too great and too marvelous for me.  Psalm 131: 1b. 

The scenic bypass left the four-lane highway, which was in itself a beautiful driving experience.  Even in the drought conditions through which California has suffered, coastal Highway 101 was spectacular.  When you get to the northwest corner of the state, the road heads inland a bit away from the famous sections of winding road on the cliff edge looking out on the ocean.   Instead of crashing surf, you see trees and mountains.  Turning off the famous north-south road, we headed into the Redwood Forest National Park.

After passing a meadow and a park gate, the road entered the forest.  Instantly, the trees vaulted to the sky.  These trees were remarkably larger and taller than what I’ve seen elsewhere.  The road honored their presence and wandered a bit, side to side, bypassing trees as it went along.  

The further we headed into the forest, the darker things became as the mammoth trees filtered the sun.  Things were also greener as brightly colored ferns blanketed the forest floor and bunched up alongside the road.  At a cut-off called “Big Tree Wayside,” I pulled the RV as far as I could off the road.  It was time to do what we had come to do – walk among ancient giants.

Whoever named the “Big Tree,” might have been lacking in imagination.  That said, this old growth giant, which is an estimated 1,500 years old, is aptly named.  The tree is certainly “Big” with a circumference of 68 feet.  Standing at its base, you have to lean your head backward as far as it goes, and you still can’t see the top.  With head back and hand at my forehead to shade the filtered sunlight, I was a loss for words.     Too great and too marvelous for me to get my head around.  How do you begin to fathom that this huge tree is as massive and as old as it is? 

When the mind and imagination lack capacity, mystery invites us into a different kind of conversation that words can not bear.  Silence is the language for such moments.  It is a sacred silence that beckons to the place where we praise God.   Humble.  Silent.  We praise the timeless Creator who watched over the seed as it broke ground, 1,500 years ago and declared it to be good.

Permission granted to share with family and friends.  Copyrighted 2017. Walt Lichtenberger

Seeping Pool

blog first published on June 29, 2016

photo taken at Mesa Verde by Walt Lichtenberger

The Ancestral Pueblo people built vast cities and ceremonial complexes in the side of the sandstone cliffs of the southwest.  Although you can see the remnants of their existence throughout the region, the greatest concentration of the cliff dwellings seems to be gathered in Mesa Verde national park.  Here you can walk through Balcony House or Cliff Palace and see the walls, passageways, ladders, and aged timbers from another time.  In the centuries, long since gone, of their habitation of this place the Ancestral Pueblo people farmed the mesa tops and lived in the relative safety of the cliffs.  They used techniques of dry farming because the land is arid.  Water is still a prized commodity.  No streams run on the mesa above nor in the canyons below.  Rainfall was infrequent and insufficient for daily consumption.  So how did they get their needed water? How did they remain hydrated for generations in this remote place? 

Seeping pools.  In the back of the cliff, where the natural ceiling connects to the floor there are little pools of water.  Like a gigantic filter, the sandstone cliffs filtrate the water as gravity pulls it downwards.  It takes time, for sure, but it is a constant process so you can fill your cup in the pool and it will replenish again and again.  The water is good, cool, and refreshing.  In the back of each of the cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde, seeping pools have been found.  Though the people who lived there are long gone, remembered in only the sacred stories of the modern Pueblo people and in the reconstructions of anthropologists, the seeping pools remain.  They continue to offer the blessing of water.

What are the things that nourish and refresh our spiritual lives?  Where are the places that abundantly provide for our faith during dry and arid times?  Where are our seeping pools to be found hidden in the back of our caves and dwellings? 

For centuries, the sacraments have provided "seeping pool" daily sustenance for Christians.  In bread and wine, water and oil, thirsty souls have been refreshed.  These sacred connections come as gifts for life itself.  Instead of limited natural elements processed through thick layers of sandstone, these sacraments are embodied with the abundant life of the Creator.  Through all the changes and challenges of the ages, they remain present in the worship life of the church.  Remain and await, like a seeping pool, to be dipped into...

Permission granted to share with family and friends.  Copyrighted 2016. Walt Lichtenberger

Paper Dolls and Getting it "Right"

blog first published on October 2, 2017

Paper Dolls.  Have you ever made a chain of Paper Dolls?  It requires some precision in folding the paper in just the right way.  For the link between the paper people to work properly (making them ‘hold hands’) you also need to cut in just the correct places.  Unfurling the Paper Dolls can be a magical experience; the Dolls seem to multiply and hold hands all at the same time.  But that only happens if you’ve properly done the folding and the cutting.  Paper Dolls are not that forgiving and can quickly turn from being a delight to a public exercise in futility and shame.  Look, all of our Dolls are holding hands, but yours are not!  What a maroon you are! Ha Ha!

My first tragic episode with Paper Dolls occurred when I was a Sunday School student in Kindergarten.   Bethany Lutheran Church held its Sunday School classes in the small basement.  Please forgive my memory if I get the details a little messed up – it has been a few decades since I have been there.  Kindergarteners were in a separate basement room for their instruction; the Church Council also used this small room, which had an oversized boardroom table in the center, for their meetings if I’m not mistaken. 

In my three piece Sunday suit, I went to Sunday School.  By and large, it was a positive experience because the people who took care of the Sunday School, the teachers, were great and loving people.  They are among those with whom I share words of thanks for teaching me the Christian faith.  Thinking back, more important than any lessons was the love, acceptance, and encouragement that they communicated in their words, actions, and presence.  Within a context of gratitude, I share the following story, a critique of the process of education and NOT the people involved.  After all, the people were doing the very best they could according to what I’d call standard patterns of Sunday School education. 

One day in that Kindergarten room with the big boardroom table, the lesson involved a craft.  We must have been talking about ‘being one in Christ’ or ‘loving one another’ or something like that.  Those lessons, and rightfully so, were very much repeated.  My Sunday School teacher passed out the paper and safety scissors.  Knowing Mr. Warner, he probably described the directions with his signature big smile on his face.  Fold here and here.  Smile.  Cut here and here.  The details of what followed are now largely a blur, but it didn’t go well for me.  My Paper Dolls were not following Jesus’ command to love each other and hold hands.  I remember feeling ashamed that I didn’t get it right.  I’m sure I didn’t get into trouble for doing it wrong, but that is my emotional memory of the incident.  

The situation of the unlinked Paper Dolls serves as a metaphor for me as I think back on my Christian education.  Again, I do NOT fault the dedicated volunteer teachers or the overworked pastors who were ultimately responsible for the content (and had to deal with the political reality of folks not liking what the denominational publishing house produced or wanting to switch teams and use what the Baptists were using.)  The system of Sunday School and its graduate component, Confirmation, was to educate children and youth on the basics of the faith.  The purpose was to impart the wisdom and doctrines of the church to the next generation so they could make the Paper Dolls in the right way.  Our education was done with a sense of importance so that we would grow up to be good and knowledgeable members of the church and stay out of trouble (away from drugs and jail).  My teachers taught me how to make the Paper Dolls, where to fold and how to cut.  What else was there to know? 

Looking back, however, the educational focus was not unlike the one that I experienced in school.  I had to memorize concepts, names, dates, places.  I had to comprehend and parrot back explanations on stories from the Bible.  It was like Algebra and English – Faith was just another subject in which I needed to acquire competency.  I can’t say that all the efforts – on the part of teachers, pastors, and myself – ever resulted in a deepened spirituality or connection with God.  In fact, the image of God that was encouraged was one of the big Principal in the sky who wanted to make sure that I got good grades, stayed out of trouble, and could properly cut my Paper Dolls. 

We live in a context where Sunday Schools are currently in decline.  According to a 2015 article in USA Today;    

Between 1997 and 2004, churches lost tens of thousands of Sunday school programs, according to data from the Barna Group, and more recent studies show that enrollment has fallen across denominations. From 2004 to 2010, for example, Sunday school attendance dropped nearly 40 percent among Evangelical Lutheran churches in America and almost 8 percent among Southern Baptist churches, prompting speculation that the problem may be more than just a decline in American religiosity (https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2015/03/22/ozy-has-sun-set-on-sunday-school/25080073/)

The decline in participation in mainline churches certainly coincides with a reduction in Sunday School attendance.  With fewer people feeling a religious need to go to church, it makes sense that they won’t be sending their children to Sunday School to learn the faith.   What about the ‘drop-offs’ you say?  Didn’t we always have parents who dropped their kids off without going to worship?  Yes, but as the culture moves in a more secular direction, it is a matter of time before we see the ‘drop-off’ pattern stop.  Sadly, there is no longer a cultural value in many parts of the country for people to even have a ‘faith education.'  

My greater concern, however, is what happens after confirmation to youth and adults who remain ‘in the church.’  For most, faith education seems to stop after students ‘graduate’ confirmation.  We rightfully worry about the lack of youth participation in faith-based activities.  What we don’t concern ourselves as much with is the lack of adult participation in Bible studies and faith education.  This should be as much a concern.   Is it any wonder that our youth don’t become involved in greater numbers? Where are their parents?  

Is part of the reason for lack of participation in adult ed simply because adults see as much need for additional faith education as they have for additional math and science classes?  Education is something that you do when you are starting out.  You learn what you need to be a productive member of society, and then you go on to other things – like jobs, family, pastimes, sports, etc.   The average person knows what they need to know from their education when they were young.  That is true for reading, writing, arithmetic, and I would also guess that most would say for faith too!

But here is the catch – faith is not something we can learn once and then live with a basic competency.  Faith is not an object to be comprehended or a subject for us to master.  You can’t give a proficiency test for the faith that involves coloring in circles with a number two pencil.  Faith is more about relationships than it is about doctrines and content.  Faith is a matter of breathing and being.  Faith grows and dies in the crucible of our life experiences.  There are moments of clarity followed by deep and disturbing doubts.  Faith is formed in the spaces of our hearts, souls, interactions, as well as in our thought processes.

The notion that a child can go to six years of Sunday School, three years of Confirmation, and they are 'set' for the rest of their lives of 'faith' is preposterous, and yet that is what many in the Christian church have accepted as normative.  There is a church-wide need for us to become life-long learners and growers in faith.   It seems to me that we need to start this reform by shifting our language from education to formation.  I hope that we can begin to imagine something different, more life-giving and generative than correctly making Paper Dolls.

Permission granted to share with family and friends.  Copyrighted 2017. Walt Lichtenberger

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.

Imago Dei

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“So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them ”

— Genesis 1: 27a

From the new book Lighting Your Way, With Love

As we build our working theology, one of the most useful ideas for us to consider is the concept of Imago Dei.  It comes from the first chapter of Genesis and has a history of use in Christianity and Judaism.  What this idea, translated as the "image of God," means is open for interpretation: Is this the Divine Spark?  Is it a necessary ingredient in the atoning fight against original sin?  Or is it merely a reminder that there is something of God in each human being? 

Back in the early 2000s, as I was working on and studying the sermons of Archbishop Desmond Tutu, I was forever changed by his use of Imago Dei.  For him, the concept was central to his Ubuntu theology.  If God created every human being in God's image, then each ought to be treated with reverence and respect.  Racism and division among people are ungodly and work against the created order.   

Those who perpetuate ideas of racial or ethnic superiority deny God's image and are committing blasphemy of the highest order.  One need not look any further than Genesis 1:27 to see that Apartheid in South Africa and Jim Crow in America were morally wrong.  No matter how stridently white churches tried to defend these practices using scripture (and they did for some time), it doesn't hold up to the simple truth of Imago Dei.  

On a personal level, I have found Imago Dei to be a handy idea.  It means that God is present in everyone I meet.  God is present in those who look like me, think like me, and share my affinity for anchovies.  And, perhaps more importantly, God is present in those who don't look like me, think like me, or eat salty fish.  Underneath and underlying all the diversity, difference, and division, I share a common identity with every living human being on the planet.  From innocent babies to convicted felons, there is something of God in each of us.  We are all children of God.  No exceptions. 

As is often the case, applying a principle can be hard to do.  I continue to find myself wanting there to be an exception or loophole.  It can be hard to look in the face of someone who is violently opposed to your very being and spurting vile criticisms and say that God created them in God's image.  But even these people are part of the all.  I have found myself challenged to open the hardest places of my heart.  If I can't demonize or dehumanize my neighbor, then I need to find ways to love them.  Yes, even them!   

I'm not always successful in my efforts.  Biases and prejudices continue to fester in hidden places of my heart that prevent me from fully embracing this idea.  I remain in need of continual repentance and forgiveness.  In those moments, I am glad that Imago Dei also applies to me.  Even though I'm not fully able to embrace God's presence in everyone, it remains in them and me!  I am unable to escape being made in God's image.   Since God remains in me, there is hope.  Hope, still, that I will lean into this identity as I engage my neighbor.

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A Note to My Son:  

Dear Noah,
Two things will always be true.  One: you are a child of God.  Two: so is everybody else!   

Why is this important?  I have found that I get myself into trouble when I forget these two things.  When I forget that God created me and everybody else in God’s image, I either think too highly or too lowly of myself and others.  This is not good.   

A helpful hint to correct this vision problem involves a mirror.  When you look in the mirror each morning, say to yourself: I am a child of God, created in God's image.  Then repeat the phrase "child of God, created in God's image" to the very next face you see, whether in person or on TV or on your phone.  It will help to change the way you see yourself and others.

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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Generosity

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From the new book Lighting Your Way, With Love

I distinctly remember the night, even though it was almost twenty-five years ago.  It was at the end of my pastoral internship in Utica, New York.  A bunch of Lutheran pastors took their significant others out to dinner at a Mexican restaurant in a nearby town.  It was a pretty nice place, and the food was excellent.  At the end of the meal, each couple received their bill in a small folder.  When I opened mine, I found out that one of the other pastors had picked up the tab for the intern and his future wife.  What a nice surprise!  To this day, I continue to appreciate that kind gift. 

Have you ever found yourself the recipient of someone else's generosity?  Ever have a stranger pay for your coffee?  Or perhaps someone was abundant in sharing their time and patience with you. 

When someone is generous, they go above and beyond expectations. Because generosity departs from the usual way things go, it can create wonder and sincere appreciation.  It has the potential to build and strengthen relationships between giver and receiver.  It inspires additional acts of generosity. 

Generosity as a spiritual ethic begins with the recognition that all we have in life comes from God.  Our selves, our time, and our possessions all have the potential to connect us with God's gracious abundance.  Sharing what we have and who we are with others is a response to God's activity in our life, making generosity a sacred endeavor. 

If our act of giving to others expects nothing in return, then it is an offering.  When we give, we offer something to the happiness, sustenance, or advancement of another.  Rest assured: when we express such care, God smiles.  Our actions can provide a practical example of loving one's neighbor in real time.   

No matter the size of your investment portfolio (or even if you have one), all people can be generous.  It is not so much a function of wealth as it is of vision.  Do you see life through the freeing lens of abundance or do you see it as limited and scarce?  Are you willing to take a risk in giving away something that you might need yourself?   

Some of the most significant generosity that I've witnessed has involved great courage on the part of folks who didn't have a lot of material wealth.  They gave because another was in need, not because they had a lot of extras lying around.  Again, it is a vision thing.  When you see life as a gift and all that you have as a gift from God, it is easier to give.    

A miser's heart, on the other hand, is convinced that life is a losing battle in which we are all a few steps away from desolation.  Hold onto what you have.  A rainy day is coming for sure.  You fear having nothing after giving everything away.    

Generosity is a choice.  We choose to see through the lens of abundance or not.  We decide to take the risk of giving away things we might use in the future.  We determine to live in the abundant blessings of God and not by the anxious scarcity of the world.  Or we don’t.   

What have I to give?  What if you don't feel all that rich right now?  Perhaps you are waiting for some time in the future when you will be more flush with resources?   

Again, from observing the habits of generous people, this ethic is best not postponed for the “perfect” time.  Either folk practice generosity or they don't.  You either live courageously, trusting that there is enough, that you have and will have enough, or you live with sheepish restraint.  It is a matter of perception and prioritizing.  It is about seeing others less as a threat and competition and more as siblings and an opportunity to give.    

After years of working in parishes with a great disparity of resources, a pastor of mine once shared the wisdom of his experience: you will not find an unhappy giver, and you will never see a happy miser.  Ultimately, generous people tap into life's joy in a way that those who don't give will never experience.    

Generous people reflect the generosity of God, which brings people together, heals the sick, accompanies the lonely, forgives the hardened sinner, and raises the dead.  Further, generosity is generative; it begets life that is rich beyond compare. 

Who doesn’t want to live that life?

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A Note to My Son:  

Dear Noah,

I'll ask the question right out: Are you generous?  Do you share what you have with others?   

Don't wait until you make your millions, acquire all manner of wealth and fortune, or have extra time to spare before you choose to be generous.  First of all, there is a lot of living to happen before any of that happens (if it ever does).  Second, generosity takes practice and is more a way of living abundantly than anything else.  Generosity comes from your heart and not from the storehouse of your surplus.   

Find the joy in giving to others.  Experience the true riches of this lifestyle before material wealth and riches get in your way.  Don't wait to learn generosity—there will never be a perfect time in the future but for the present. 

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 in the Coastland

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From the 2018 series “With Thanks”

“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 & 12

Photo taken by Mark Lichtenberger on the Coast of 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!

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.

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

Hesed

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From the new book Lighting Your Way, With Love

It didn't take a skilled pastoral listener to perceive the agony and anguish in his soul.  Although it was almost twenty-five years ago, I can clearly see the nervous wringing of his hands as he sat before me.  How could I forget?  It was a few months into my pastoral internship in Utica, New York.  "Wet behind the ears" doesn't fully capture my inexperience, both in matters of life and spirit; I was twenty-four years old and had only five semesters of seminary training.  I had no prior—or subsequent—contact with the middle-aged man who sat opposite me on a folding chair in my closet-sized office, but he left an indelible impression.   

He was in full spiritual crisis.  Despite his multiple efforts at denial and restraint, he couldn't escape his secret identity.  The Christian community where he worshipped, where he felt loved and had close friends, labeled homosexuality as an abomination, a sin above all sins, a cause of shame, and grounds for immediate dismissal.  What was he to do?  If only they knew, his friends would undoubtedly shun him. 

To make matters worse, I found out through gentle questioning that in his heart he agreed with the judgment of his church.  Based on his rigid interpretation of a few verses of an ancient holiness code (which, by the way, also abolished the eating of shrimp), God damned his sexual orientation to eternal punishment.  So fixed on God's wrath and sternness was this tormented soul's working theology that grace, forgiveness, and love were unavailable to him.   

As I sat across from him, my working theology wasn't much better.  It would be years before I would uncover a critical aspect of God's nature—the theological concept of hesed—and place it at the heart of my pastoral care and the center of my life of faith. 

Hesed is a Hebrew word that appears 248 times in the Bible that Jesus read.  You can translate it in a variety of ways, including great mercy, kindness, loving kindness, and even goodness.  It bears a sense of eager and ardent desire or zeal.  Hesed is used to describe the relationships between people.  It can also define the connection between God and people.  Hesed is mutually beneficial and filled with grace or favor.   

Time and again we read in scripture (especially in the book of Psalms) that hesed is part of God's nature.  God is full of mercy, goodness, grace, and loving kindness.  Hesed is how God relates to us and all of God’s broken creation.  What is more, God's hesed is a passionate endeavor.  God keeps at it, despite the unfaithfulness and lack of hesed on the part of humanity.   

We find numerous examples of hesed illustrated in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.  Jesus is all about compassion, grace, generosity, acceptance, and hospitality.  All these attributes emerge from and are supported by Jesus's application of hesed.  

When you put hesed at the center of your working theology, something incredible happens.  It causes the brimstone and frightening ideas about God to fade.  In their place emerges a compassionate God who is madly in love with creation.  "The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love (Psalm 145:8)."  God is full of hesed, not anger, judgment, or hatred. 

Further, God is not out to get us, waiting for us to slip up or fail.  Instead, God is ever-present to support, guide, comfort, and love us.  Our proper response is not anxious fear but grateful adoration. 

When hesed defines God's identity in your working theology, you gain the freedom to love without needing to worry about whether you are getting it right.  You are free to be the person God created you to be, without trying to contort yourself into a box that deforms, limits, shames, and disregards.  It is not a license to do whatever you want.  Rather, it is an invitation to engage in acts of loving kindness and mercy of your own. 

Perhaps the most profound examples of hesed that I've seen have come from family members who care for a dying loved one.  Their hesed humbles me as they go above and beyond, tending to not only the emotional but also the physical needs of their parent or spouse.   

In my home, I watched my wife, Katie, care for her mom, Judi, in her last days.  As Judi's body lost function, Katie's became stronger in her care.  Although it certainly took a toll on Katie, she managed to carry on through the ordeal with grace and compassion.  Judi received this gift and was able to rest knowing that she was deeply loved.  That is how hesed works. 

That is also why hesed deserves a place at the heart of your and my thinking about God.  When we allow hesed to displace thoughts of wrath and judgment, a new space of possibilities opens in our spirit.  God's steadfast love, mercy, goodness, and loving kindness push fear, despair, insecurity, and anxiety to the side.  This movement, and the space it creates, comes as the graceful acts of a Spirit that walks with us down paths as yet untrodden, through perils and possibilities unknown.

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A Note to My Son:  

Dear Noah,
How's your hesed doing today?  I know that you are probably rolling your eyes at this moment.  Stop.  I'm serious.  How are your compassion, grace, kindness, and mercy holding up?   

Pretty soon, you will be taking your first round of exams.  There is judgment whenever tests enter the picture.  You study.  You try your hardest.  And you get graded.  Depending on the grade, it can be either a triumphant or defeating experience.  You will soar or feel like you have crashed. 
 

Back to hesed—God's unlimited mercy, grace, love, and goodness for you.  Nurture this truth in your heart so that no matter what the test result may be, you know that you remain a priceless Child of God.  Hesed will help lift you up on those bad days and give you the courage to carry on.  Hesed will also keep you humble when you ace things and make you available to those who need your help.  Thus, whether you are up or down, you remain kind, compassionate, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love—just like your God.   

Love you, always,

Dad.

---

 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 Strangers

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From the 2018 series “With Thanks”

“I will give thanks to you, O LORD, among the peoples,
and I will sing praises to you among the nations.”

— Psalm 108:3

It may surprise you, but I'm somewhat shy. In a crowd of people, I tend to migrate toward the back corner of the room. Meeting new people has always been a challenge that takes a lot of energy. It doesn't mean that I'm not a 'people person.' I like people, but getting to know new folks is exhausting. As a pastor, I've worked on my interpersonal and extroverted skills. Still, even now, on a Sunday afternoon, I usually find myself pooped!

I share this information about myself to set the stage for talking about giving thanks among strangers. It might come easy for you, but it is tough for me to shout God's praise in that large crowd of people that I don't know. My natural inclination is to drift toward the wall silently.

It's not that I'm afraid of strangers (or preaching in front of a large group of people). Over the years, I have discovered that people are generally good. If you smile at someone, they will most likely smile back. If you treat someone else with respect, they will usually return the favor. The world over, people are people.

Being a person that processes life in an introverted way, however, I find that it is hard to interact with people I don't know. Expressing sincere thanks is too intimate a gesture to share with strangers. A polite thank you is okay to share with someone who holds the door or gives me my hamburgers in a sack at the drive-in. But a real, honest to goodness, "thank-you, you touched my heart and showed me God's grace” - that's a bit much.

Or is it?

Maybe, it is precisely what my shy-self needs. Perhaps, it is what we all need. When we give thanks to God among ALL people - of which strangers make up the largest segment - we are challenging an innate sense of tribalism. My people - my tribe - are the ones towards whom I naturally go. The ones that I'm most familiar with are also those for whom I’m most thankful. That is okay. It is a problem, however, when they are the ONLY ones for whom I express gratitude.

Giving thanks among the nations is an act of opening our heart to the broader world that God made. How awesome is our God to have made the human creature so diverse! Each of us has our own story, a unique set of experiences and dreams. We are differently abled and disabled. Varying perspectives and ideas guide each of us on a slightly different path.

It is all so amazing. If for no other reason, we should give thanks to God among the nations out of lasting gratitude to God for making such a diverse creation and humanity. If we are to believe the scriptural witness that God created humans in God's image, then with each new face we see a little more of God.

Exhausting - you bet! Rather cool, though, isn't it?

Prayer:

Creator of All, you created all the people of the earth in your image. Even if we don't always see or comprehend it, each person bears the mark of your life. Give me the courage to move beyond my comfort zone to get to know those who are strangers to me. Guide my words and actions so that may open more of my heart to you.

Through Christ, Amen.

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