My wife's newest word - Massefer
Definition - "The appearance of a Shih Tzu when sleeping in a circle and his tail is intertwined with his or her head."
Typical sentence: "When my dog is sleeping on the bed, he is a real massefer."
Yours because His,
Pastor Patrick
I learned this week that baseball games can be dangerous. Oh, they are good about warning foul balls or thrown bats. But their is a danger that is not covered by the regular disclaimers. It was last week when a young girl, 4 or 5 years of age, got her head caught in the railing which follows the stairs up into the stands. And tonight, a young man of about the same age got his foot caught in the seat. Both were painful reminders that a ball park can be a dangerous place.
But it would seem that there might be spiritual lessons as well. To many times we think the things we find in life are safe, but when we get to involved with them, like those two children, we find that they do not match with what God expects - they are, in fact, dangerous. What am I, what are you, doing that seems safe, but is dangerous to my spiritual life?
A Personal Statement of Faith
Using the model of E. Stanley Jones, I want to examine the truths that have defined my life over the last 35 years. It is not intended to represents the faith of the church I serve (a small United Methodist congregation) or the church with whom I hold my ordination (The Wesleyan Church); rather, it is intended to be a personal statement of faith that has developed from my personal study, my training, and my experience with a loving God.
I expect that this will be a growing list - but I also expect it to be finite at any given time. I can never know God in His entirety, but I can know Him personally. The next step, perhaps a lifetime task, will be to add scripture and references in support of the statements given below.
Floyd H. Johnson
Let's Talk About Sin
I have been told that it has become unpopular to talk about sin. Some would say that it has become politically incorrect to refer to sin in the 21st century. In a world where we learn and see daily that anything goes, how can one speak of doing something wrong.
Yet, of course, we do. Though "anything goes" we still live in a world of laws - laws made by man. We do not like to speak of laws that come from a being higher than ourselves, laws that come from God. Once we focus on laws made by God, we hit the law of immutability. As long as we only derive our lifestyles from man made laws, we are free to change the law. But once we admit that God also has laws, we are not free to change those laws. We must do our best to free ourselves from God's Laws. We hear that "God does not exist", "God is dead", or "God is irrelevant".
Yet we do want to hear about the more positive gifts that come from God - things like "forgiveness", "grace", "mercy". But I have a problem. Unless we talk about sin (or its synonyms), these terms make no sense.
Forgiveness has little value, unless I have sinned.
Grace means nothing, unless I am broken.
Mercy is not needed, unless I have fallen short of God's expectations.
I do not need to be afraid of sin - mine or someone else's - because unless I know something of sin, I can neither experience God's forgiveness, grace, and mercy; nor can I show it to others.
Blessings,
Pastor Patrick
Crackers and Juice
I found her offensive.
Clearly, her appearance would drive anyone away. The mottled hair, the fat that hung from her chin, the nose that pointed almost straight up from her face. They each served to drive all who would approach away.
But it was not just her face. The fingernails had not been trimmed for some time. The first time I met her I was afraid to shake her hand as I wondered if she would slash my palm. Her hips had been stretched by the extra body fat in her mid-section. She almost waddled as she moved down the hall.
One might hope that her voice might make up for her appearance. That was not to be. That squeak came every time she had to open her closed lips - like whenever she had to speak a word that started with "b" or "p". I could not help but be reminded of someone scraping their fingernails across the blackboard.
I found her offensive. But I learned a long time ago that I too am broken. And that morning I found that my brokenness kept me ... well, that is what this story is about.
Though, I found it hard to be near Claire, that was her name, there were others that did not. The children. They loved her. Why? Because, as I watched them this morning, it was clear that she loved them. I first saw her in the middle of that big, multicolored, target shaped rug. Not standing, but sitting on her knees. There at her left side were three girls. There were four boys on her right. I did not see the two other children who were sneaking up behind her until it was too late. For as those last two climbed on her back, all ten of them went tumbling forward and as they looked up I saw ten of the loveliest smiles I had ever seen. Claire flipped to her back and start lifting the children as high a she could reach. She would no sooner pick up one child and hold her or him high and gently place them on the ground than she would find another and repeat the process.
The play that day was not just for the young children, but for all those who remembered what childhood was like.
When someone over in the corner yelled "refreshments", the kids bounced off Claire and ran to the table to sit. It would not be fair to say Claire bounced, but she, too, took a seat at the table, right in the midst of all those kids. As she took the hand of the girl to her right and the hand of the girl to her left, the children began to grasp each others hands, following her example. She bowed her head, waited a moment, and began to say grace. It was a simple prayer, but, other than her voice, there was no noise. The children listen while she spoke for just a few seconds to the God that had showed her the love that the children felt that morning. "Amen." And then noise began again - what do you expect from a room full of pre-schoolers who had been wrestling on the floor one moment, in the presence of God the next, and now were ready to take the juice and crackers that were offered.
The children loved Claire, because she loved them. And now, I'm really not sure why she offended me.
With apologies to Dr. Paul Welter, author of Learning From Children.
There, he heard it again. “Dinner!” It was his mother – and dinner was ready. Now he had a decision to make – should he climb back down the tree or jump the three feet to the ground? Regardless, he knew the food would be worth it and the tree would be climbed another day. After all, it was the only tree he could climb.
