It is good to be seen, isn’t it? Whether by a 4-year-old or a 40-year-old, it is good to know that someone sees you.
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From the Pastor's Heart
I prayed for you. In October 2019, I requested a move on behalf of my family. Though this was a very difficult request to make, it was without a doubt a Spirit-led decision. After I made my request, I began to pray for the type of church that I would want to call home if my family and I were searching for a place to belong.
My last pastoral letter to the good people of Sewickley UMC.
Long… long ago… long before I realized I can’t sing a note… can’t carry a tune in a paper bag to save my life, I tried out for chorus. I was in the 5th grade. Mrs. Pandolph called each student up to stand beside her and sing while she played the piano.
I went to the Leetsdale Giant Eagle the other day to pick up a few items. There was very little meat and bread, there were no eggs and no doughnuts, and of course, no toilet paper. By now, we are all getting used to the empty shelves we are finding. We have never seen anything like this! In a matter of a few days, this thing has gone from “wash your hands and cover your cough” to a significant lifestyle change that most of us have not experienced in our lifetime.
These forty days, (not including Sundays) invite us to journey inward and to take inventory. And as we do so, we wonder how could we have collected so much stuff? Some of it is good and certainly worth keeping. We also must own the fact that we need to dispose of some trash we have gathered.
As we step into the month of February, it has given me pause to reflect on the past. For you see, this month, I turn 66.
She could not see our sister in her beautiful white wedding gown, she could not see her walk down the aisle, and she could not see the spectacular setting of the wedding reception. She was in total darkness.
It’s the same message every Christmas. We preachers get to declare to all kinds of people that on this day, long ago, a Savior had been born, and He is for YOU.
When she was very little, he would pick her up, hum a tune, and dance with her around the room, and he would tell her, “I love you, little girl.”
All these years later, I fear much of what we learned as a result of 9/11 is being lost to time and apathy. Today, there are those who never heard of 9/11. Others simply know about the events of September 11, 2001 through history books and the stories their parents and grandparents tell.
It seems part of everyone’s recent conversations centers around the changing season. Everyone has their opinion. Some (like me) are lamenting the ending of the shorts and flip-flop season. I hear many bemoan the fact that soon darkness will fall on this part of the earth as early as 4:30 pm. Others, like my grandchildren, are eagerly anticipating fall. Emmelia tells me it is her favorite time of year.
I know I am dating myself, but with this recent heat wave, I suddenly found myself humming the tune to Nat King Cole’s 1963 hit, “Those Lazy-Hazy-Crazy Days of Summer.”
I was pleased to receive an invitation to attend the Quaker Valley Commencement. It was a very moving and memorable experience. The speeches offered by some of the graduating seniors were filled with heart, strength and emotion.
In the marriage ceremonies I conduct, I never ask, “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” No one is property to be GIVEN to another. I always ask both sets of parents to give their blessing to the marriage of their children. Yet there is something endearing about being spoken for.
On Easter, I said one of the Easter challenges God puts before us is to see those around us… really see them. But often, we see only what we want to see. Sometimes, like Thomas insisting on seeing the wounds of Jesus, we insist on seeing the wounds of others before we believe that the people we serve are persons worthy and deserving of grace and kindness during their most vulnerable hour.
What I wish to convey to you in this pastor’s letter is the importance of allowing scars to define us; not our scars however, but the scars of Jesus. Jesus's scars have their own story to tell.
I don’t think it is a secret that if you looked up “party animal” in the dictionary, you will NOT find my name or picture there. However, this lackluster kind of guy has a very odd allure to the festival of Mardi Gras.
One of the joys of being a pastor is to hear your stories, stories like these—reports of epiphanies.
The name of this month has associations with the concepts of beginnings, doorways, openings, gateways and transitions. There’s little doubt that the name derives from the Roman god Janus, who is usually depicted as having two faces, one looking to the past and one to the future. This year, I can’t help but wonder what the United Methodist Church will look like after February.