Bungee Cord 12-31-12

Hello,

     We’ve had some snow up on the ridge.  How much?  I don’t know, but with the vigorous winds that swish through here, we have drifts that rise to our knees.  Since this is the first winter that we have lived on our hill-top, we are being taught our lessons of dealing with the snow by the harsh teacher of experience.

     The drive from the main road to our place is a little less than a half a mile….all up hill!  The drive begins with a gentle sloped straight-a-way and then with a sharp left turn the incline increases as it parallels the hillside.  The next section of the lane is short, but it is steep, connecting the lower parallel road to the higher one.  In a low flying plane, the lane looks a bit like a squared off backwards question mark.

     We have a tractor with a blade on it.  It is my wife’s favorite toy.  So, when you come by our house and see her on our tractor, know that it is not a sign of my laziness, but rather her childhood delights being lived out.  She’s been busy plowing with the tractor trying to keep up with the snow, and for the most part we’ve been able to traverse our lane.  Unfortunately, we were away for a couple of hours, and the show got ahead of her/us. 

     So, as I was driving up our lane and made the turn onto the short but steepest section, the tires of our Honda CRV started spinning and we wound up sliding into the ditch alongside the road.  In order not to make the situation worse, we gave up on our upward climb, and my wife climbed out of the car saying, “I’ll go get the tractor.”  About 10 minutes later, out from the trees where our house is located came the slowly plodding tractor with my wife at the wheel.  Her plan was to try and clear the snow down to the stone bed, hoping that the front wheels of our car would grab and we would be freed from the drift into which we had slid.  “It’s going to take a while,” she said, “if you want to go inside, I’ll come and get you when it is ready.” So, up the hill I walked and sat down in front of the fireplace that was crackling with burning wood.

     About 2 hours later, she knocked on the door and said she had gotten it ready.  I put my coat and boots back on and headed down to our snow-trapped car.  When we got there, I told her to gun the car so the back wheels would spin, and with the wheels spinning, I would push the back end of the car back on the road on which she had done her clearing.  For some reason, the wheels would not spin, and when they did spin and the car would move, they would immediately just stop.  We worked at it for a half hour, getting nowhere.  Our neighbors happened by on the snow mobiles and with the strength of two more people, we got it to move, but still not enough to get out of the ditch and up the hill. 

     My frustration and patience were melting so I decided that I should give it a try behind the wheel.  My efforts were no more productive.  After a couple of attempts, my wife said to me, “Your back wheels keep on locking up.”

     So, I glanced at the parking break…..and guess what….it was set.  Apparently I had set it when I left to go inside as the car rested on the incline.  I released the parking break by depressing it again, and with the ease of a bulldozer the car ascended the slope.  That is all it took: releasing the parking break.  All that work…all that frustration…..all that anger….all  because of a set parking break.  “Ugh,” I thought to myself.

     Wouldn’t it be nice if all of the struggles we face would have at such an easy fix, but you and I know that isn’t the way it works.  Many of the struggles that we face in life are so multi-facetted that the solutions are not quick and easy, but long and hard.  Other struggles are so deep and profound that it doesn’t seem like there is an answer.  Others come with resolutions that are worse than the problem itself, and some seem to come with no solution.

     That is the way life is.  You know it.  I know it, and the people who come to church on Sunday mornings know it.  When you find yourself sledding up a steep hill in life and going nowhere, know that there is a bunch of people who are glad to join you in your struggle: to lift you up when your strength is spent, to encourage you with their care when the struggle is long, to hold you when everything seems to be falling apart.  Sometimes Christians are guilty of pronouncing easy answers to life’s struggles, but most of the Christians for whom I have been their pastor have wallowed in life’s complexity themselves, and they know all too well that simple and easy answers are rarely found.  They know that their faith isn’t built on the hopes that God would solve all their problems.  Their faith is built on the cross and resurrection that shows God’s power to overcome all of our struggles.

     So, when you are stuck in a ditch and easy answers are hard to find, come join God’s people on Sunday morning, and you will find people who will embrace you with the grasp of God, the one who has shown his resolve to overwhelm all of our struggles with his grace and mercy.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord  12-24-12

Hello,

(continued from last week….last week’s Bungee Cord can be found on my blog 1Johnthreeone.blogspot.com)

….The Driver didn’t budge, “I am NOT going in there!” said the driver as he stood right under the sign that warned, “No Swimming.  No Fishing.  No Boating”  “You girls should have been watching where you were going.  I am NOT going in that pond.”

     Betsy also stood in the shadow of the sign, and she could hear her parent’s words echoing, “Absolutely – and under no circumstances……”  But this was here sister struggling in that pond – her sister whose heart beat with hers – her sister whose life was woven into hers – her sister whom she loved.  Reflex took hold of Betsy, and she plunged into Peabody’s Pond – that pond full of acid that would eat holes in her skin, full of chemicals that would breed cancer, and full of glass that would slice her like shark’s teeth.  She plunged into that pond to save her sister.  She could not have done otherwise.  It was a reflex; a reflex of the heart.

     “No swimming.  No fishing.  No boating.”  Surely a sign like that is posted on the banks of this life in which you and I live; a life where we, bruised and beaten try to keep ourselves afloat.

·      It’s a world full of the acid of hate and envy that eats holes in people’s lives.

·      It’s a world full of greed and selfishness that breeds cancer and pain.

·      It’s a world where violence and oppression lie like broken glass ready to slash deep.

What would lead anyone to plunge into this pool of misery to save us?

     Only a reflex, a reflex of the heart.

     That is what Christmas is all about – the reflex of a heart – the reflex of God’s heart. “Do not be afraid,” the angel said, “for see, I am bringing you good news of great joy for all people; to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”  On this day, Jesus, the Son of God, plunged into our lives – knowing full well the painful consequences he would suffer – all the painful consequences of hatred, the greed and the violence that would nail him to the cross – nevertheless, he plunged into our lives out of reflex – the reflex of his heart, the heart of God!

Have a blessed Christmas and a great week,

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord
12-18-12

Hello,

     Here’s the first half of a little Christmas story that I wrote some years ago:

   “No Swimming.  No Fishing.  No Boating.”  So said the sign that stood on the banks of what everyone called Peabody’s Pond.  They called it that because people said that years ago Old Man Peabody lived right next the pond in a dilapidated shack, and when he lived there the pond was so different.  It was a favorite swimming hole for the town kids.  And when they weren’t swimming in it, they would be fishing in it, catching fish big enough to feed the whole town, or so the story goes.  Old Man Peabody lived by the pond and he delighted in having the children come out and enjoy the pond.  But the pond changed after Old Man Peabody died.  No one really knows who became the owner of the pond, but who ever it was began to use the pond as a dump.  Refrigerators and old car tires lay on the pond’s bed.  Broken glass was strewn all along its shore, and the color of the water was a yellowish black, dotted with oil slicks.  And that is why the sigh stood there next to Peabody’s Pond, “No swimming. No Fishing.  No Boating.”

     Actually, there really wasn’t any need to post a sign, at least not for the kids who lived around there, because every parent drilled the message into their children’s mind.  Absolutely – and under no circumstances – were they to go swimming, fishing or boating in Peabody’s Pond.  There was acid in the pond that would burn holes in their skin. There was glass all over the place that would cut them like shark’s teeth.  There chemicals that would fill their bodies full of cancer.  Every parent told their children, “Absolutely – and under no circumstance – were they to go swimming, fishing, or boating in Peabody’s Pond.”

     Betsy and Rosemary were sisters who lived right down the road from Peabody’s Pond.  Living out in the country and only being a year apart in age, they were not only sisters.  They were the closest of friends.  They did everything together.   They played dress up and checkers.  They ran around the house playing hide and seek.  They rode their bides all around the countryside,…… and they had been given the lecture, more than once, “No swimming.  No fishing.  No boating.  In Peabody’s Pond.”

     One day as they were riding their bikes along the country roads they came up to a bend a bend where the trees and the brush hid what might have been coming from the other side.  Maybe they were watching a hawk soaring in the sky, or maybe they saw a butterfly settling on a flower by the roadside – but whatever the case, they weren’t being careful and they forgot to slow down going into the bend.  This time when they turned into the bend they were greeted by a blare of a horn and the screeching of tires as a car tried to stop from hitting them.  But it couldn’t.  Betsy swerved just in time to be missed, but Rosemary did not.  The front bumper of the car tagged her bicycle and sent her flying off the road….flying of the road right into Peabody’s Pond.

     The car stopped.  The driver got out and ran to the edge of the pond, as did Betsy.  From the edge of the pond they could see Rosemary struggling in the water, trying to keep her head above the surface.  “Help!” she cried, “I’m hurt.  I can’t swim.  My foot is caught on something.”

     The driver did not budge.  “I’m not going in there,” said the driver as he stood right under the sign that warned, “No Swimming.  No Fishing.  No Boating.”

     “You girls should have been watching where you were going.  I am NOT going in that pond.”

…….to be continued next week.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord 12-12-12

Hello,

     I am returning from vacation on the road, Interstate 74, a four lane road that bisects the state of Illinois.  It is a road that doesn’t take much driving skill to navigate.  Straight.  Smooth. Scantily busy.  The scenery to the north and south of the road is identical; flat, black dirt fields, buzzed like a short cropped haircut, extending as far as one can see.  There’s not much “civilization” along this road (except of course, Champaign/Urbana…the home of the University of Illinois...where civilization blooms like a rose in the wilderness).  It is a road whose arrow straight construction and unchanging scenery might be considered boring by some, but I find it more akin to a quiet room for uninhibited reflection.  So, here’s some Advent reflection:

     This is the season of Advent in our church, a four week stretch leading up to Christmas that bids us to go out in the wilderness, make the roads straight and level in order to clear out the way for Jesus coming (advent means “arriving”) and to clear out our minds for when he arrives.

     If Jesus was the enemy, someone to be feared, we would want him to approach on winding and roller coaster roads so that his approach would be time consuming, difficult to stay on, and easy to ambush.  Is it possible that the devil, who really is the enemy, has so spun and turned, raised and lowed this four week road to sidetrack Jesus and make him an easier target for his arrows?   

     On the other hand if Jesus is the savior, the secret weapon that will destroy everything that attacks us and waits in siege of us, we would want his approach to be as easy as possible and as quick as possible.  “Prepare ye the way of the Lord.  Make his paths straight.”

     And we who travel through life, if the road is full of traffic racing along at 80 miles per hour as it does on the express ways of Chicago….if it is winding and curvy with hair pin turns on mountain inclines as it does on the ridges of Pennsylvania…if it is lined with beautiful and breath taking scenery as it is along the Sky Line drive of the Appalachians … it is easy to get caught up in the journey and forget where we are going.  Might it be that the devil, who is who we really seek to get away from, so fills our lives with traffic, with the treacherous curves of this life, and the delights of this life that he hopes that we forget our destiny and goal?

     On the other hand, if the road we travel is so empty and barren, the scenery so monotonous and unchanging, and it requires no steering at all … then might we find ourselves more anxious for the journey’s end, more thankful for the company of those who travel with us, and more attuned to the one who bids us “come unto me all you who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”  “Prepare ye the way of the Lord.  Make his paths straight.”

     This week, hear the voice of John the Baptist who invites us to join him in the wilderness with these words, “Prepare ye the way of the Lord.  Make his paths straight.”

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace. (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord
12-3-12

Hello,

     I drive a Mini Cooper.  It was a great car in which to travel the expanses of South Dakota, and it is a great car in which to travel the winding and hilly roads of Western Pennsylvania.  The long and straight roads through the Dakota prairie was optimum terrain for great mileage, and the curly-cue roads around here are an optimum terrain for a lot of fun!

     Over the course of the years that I have driven my Mini Cooper, I have discovered something unique about driving a Mini Cooper: Mini Cooper drivers wave at each other as they come upon one another on the road.  I’ve driven other types of cars, and I can’t say that anyone waved at me through their windshield because we motored in the same kind of car, but it happens to me all the time in my Mini.  Those who have waved at me have been varied.  Some who are young and some who are young at heart.  Some whose stature is akin to the size of the car and some who have squeezed into the car like an undersized shoe.  Women and men.  It’s a varied crowd who sit behind the wheel of a Mini Cooper and wave at each other, a wave of acknowledging the unique bond that we have as Mini Cooper owners.

     If you take a seat in our church on any given Sunday you will find the same sort of thing happening.  There is a varied crowd of people who “wave” to one another as they pass along life’s way because they share a unique bond, the bond of rolling through life as children of God.  In the middle of our service we get out of our seats, walk around and shake one another’s hands saying, “The peace of the Lord be with you.”  Some of the people are known to the shaker and shake, and some are unknown.  Some are people who sit in the same pew every Sunday, and some are people who have taken their seat in a pew for the first time in a long time.  It doesn’t matter who you are, when you come to our church you will receive a peaceful and friendly “wave” from those whose lives are led by the hood ornament of the cross.

     In the day to day grind of traffic where people are more apt to honk in frustration, gesture in anger, and even burst out in rage, I find it refreshing to be the object of a friendly wave simply because of the car that I drive, and in spite of my skill in driving it. So, in the course of your weekly commute through life, let me invite you to come and take a seat in a pew and in spite of the accidents you may have caused this week, in spite of the roadblock your failures that have slowed you down this week, and in spite of the distractions in your life that have gotten in the way of others….come and be refreshed by the peaceful and friendly wave from those who treasure you solely because the unique bond that you share, the cross of Christ.  And who knows….maybe that wave will be just what you need to get back on the road this week with a genuine smile of joy on your face, and a tankful of peace in your heart.

     Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord 11-26-12

Hello,

     When my wife and I moved to Pennsylvania a year and a half ago and built a house, we dreamt of the day when our three sons, now spread across the country, would fill it and make it the place where their lives can find an anchor.  That dream came true this Thanksgiving.  From Denver via plane, and New York and Chicago by car my three twenty-some year old sons came “home” for Thanksgiving.  Along with them came a girl friend, a daughter in law, and a dog.

     The house that has calmly rested with just my wife, my dog and me in it came alive with an elevated heartbeat as the floors clicked with heels and paws, the perfectly kept rooms were strewn with clothes as if a tornado had passed through them, and laughter and memories radiated with greater warmth than the roaring fireplace.

     As a pastor who has moved around quite a bit as my kids grew up our family never really had a place that we could call “home”.  Sure, every place that we lived we made of it our home, but we always did so in the shadow of the lurking future of leaving it behind.  But not this time.  We have set down our roots here in the hills of Western Pennsylvania, roots from which a strong trunk will rise up, and from that trunk branches of love will extend as far away as New York, Denver, and Chicago so that even when my kids are not under the roof of this home, they will be under the shade and shelter that reaches out from this place.  This Thanksgiving my kids came home…… our house was full….. and so was my heart.

     I know the joy that swept over my soul to have my kids come “home”, so when I say to you that joy sweeps over the soul of God when his children come home, I speak as a father whose soul has tasted such a joy.  God has built his church on earth to be a place where people can find an anchor for their lives.  Sunday after Sunday he throws a Thanksgiving feast (Eucharist means “thanksgiving”), and he sets his table overflowing with his grace and mercy in hopes that all of his children will come.  

     If you are “home” every Sunday taking your seat at God’s table, know that God never tires of your presence, rather he delights in it.  And if you have been away for a while, don’t let your absence keep you away, for as long as you are not “home”, God’s “house” is a little empty and there is a hallow bubble in God’s heart.

     So, if you are wondering if you should go to church this Sunday, or any Sunday, instead of asking what it will mean to you to go to church, why not ask the more important question, “What will it mean to God?”  What will it mean to God to see his children reaching out to one another in care and concern?  What will it mean to God to see forgiveness being practiced between his children?  What will it mean to God to see smiles and tears carried on the faces of his children as they come to his table?  What will it mean to God to embrace his children more deeply than with a hug as he shares himself with them in Holy Communion.?

     I don’t know for sure what it meant for my kids to come home for Thanksgiving, but I do know what it meant to me.  It meant the world to me.  Likewise, I don’t know what it will mean for you when you come “home” to church on Sunday mornings, but I do know what it means to God.  It means the universe to him.

     This Sunday, and every Sunday, God hopes, and I hope, that you will be “home”.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord 11-18-2005

Hello,

     “I’ll have it a little hotter than that,” I told the waitress after placing an order of “sweet and spicy” chicken wings for my wife who was stuck in traffic and is no fan of heat.

     “Louis?”  she said, having heard my description.

     “Sounds fine,” I said back to her.

     When the waitress brought out our two orders of chicken wings, I looked at my wife’s order that looked like it had been coated with a dark maple syrup…it looked good!  Then I looked at my “little hotter than that” order that was a covered with a bright orangish, redish sauce.  The mere sight of it felt hot.

     Still caught in traffic, my wife called me and told me to go ahead and eat.  I took a careful gaze at my plate to find the chicken wing with the most meat, and I picked it up.  It was heavily sauced, so my fingers were immediately covered in orangish, redish heat.  I brought the wing to my lips, which also took on the orange, red sauce, and bit into the meat.  Instantly my lips and tongue caught on fire.  No matter how much I licked my lips with my tongue, the sting persisted.  I wondered, “If this is a ‘little hotter than that’, what would a ‘lot hotter than that’ be like?  Four or five more bites of liquid fire, and I had the first wing consumed.  The problem was that there was 11 more waiting for me in that basket filled with the sauce.

     Having survived the first one, I figured I should give a second wing a try.  Not a good idea.  My burning lips and tongue took on a heat that could set metal on fire.

     The problem was that I am a bit of a tight-wad, so I wasn’t about to let even one of these wings to go waste.  The other problem was that after eating these two wings, there were 10 left.  I had  just paid $7.99 for these wings, and I wasn’t about to leave some hot wings uneaten.  I wasn’t about to leave even a cent’s worth of chicken wings on my plate.  So, with $7.99 invested in these wings, I decided that I was going to eat them all, every one of them.  And I did. 

     I had paid for them….and I wasn’t going to let my payment be in vain.  I ate them all, and when I had finished the sweat was pouring from my scalp, my tongue and lips felt like they were the victims of third degree burns.  I knew that I was going to pay the price of a lava churning stomach for the rest of the night.  When I ordered them, I hadn’t planned on them being so hot…but I had paid for them….and I wasn’t going to let $7.99 go down the drain by leaving even one of them on my plate.

     When I wonder if I am “a little hotter” than Jesus expected…and I probably am….no, I know I am….and I consider the determination to not let my $7.99 be in vain compared to the price that Jesus paid for me….his life, I have hope.  Great hope.  If I will not give up on hot chicken wings because I spent $7.99 on them, I have great hope that Jesus will not give up on “hot chicken wings me” because he spent his life on me.

     And my hope is not just based on my cheap-scape stubbornness.  It is based on what I see, Sunday after Sunday.  Every Sunday, no matter how hot I am, Jesus welcomes me to his table and says…”this is my body, given for you…this is my blood, shed for you.”  And he says the same thing to you.  If you have become a “hot potato”, too hot for the world to touch, come and find out that there is one who is determined to hold on to you and never let you go…Jesus….he paid the price of his life for you, and he is determined to not let the price of his life go down the drain.

     That is hope!

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord  11-12-12

Hello,

     I was watching some football on TV on Saturday when in the periphery of my vision I saw something move outside the patio doors.  A quick glance away from my game, and I spied a deer calmly strolling across the yard, about 15 feet from the house.  It stopped to smell the vegetable garden that had long ago gave up its last harvest (maybe it was one of those pesky deer that was always trying to sample our produce) and then it slowly made its way to the tree line, taking in all the scenery as if it was a first time New York tourist.

     Not five minutes later, my football game was again interrupted by movement in my peripheral vision.  This time as I glanced out the glass doors I saw two Labrador retrievers striding along the same pathway as the deer, but their gate was no gawking tourist pace, theirs was the determined stride of two high school boys out looking for a fight.  One was stocky and black, the other was chocolate and sleeker.  I don’t know where they came from; some low security free ranging neighborhood yard, I suspect.  Where ever they came from one thing was certain.  They were on a mission.  Their strides were in lock step, and their eyes were being led by their noses.  With their tongues hanging out, it looked like they had sinister grins on their faces.

     I would venture to guess that if that deer that had stolled by my house had been aware of these two canine cruise missiles that were closing in on their target, the deer would not have been so slow along its way.  I didn’t hear any hooting and howling of the dogs in the woods, and I didn’t see them retrace their tracks in reverse past my house.  So, I don’t know what became of them and the deer, but my hopes for the deer’s preservation were not high.

     It would be nice, wouldn’t it, if we could stroll through life like that deer, relaxed, pausing to take in all that is around us.  The problem is, that unlike that deer, we are aware of Labradors and bloodhounds in determined pursuit behind us:  stocky health concerns, sleeker and speedier bills to be paid, persistent parental fears, stalking job pressures…and those are just the ones that we know of.  It is easy to find ourselves nervously hurried in our steps, our eyes darting all around, not to take in the beauty and wonder all along the path, but to try and spot the hunters before they spot us.

     But once a week out of the shadows of the woods there comes a somewhat soul startling, “Psst.”  Its surprise is enough to set all of our senses on high alert, and cause our hearts to race.  And then, there it is again, “Psst.  Over here.  Come over here.  It’s safe.”  Is it a trap?  Who is it who sees us and beckons us over?  And then it calls again, “Psst.  Over here.  There’s nothing to fear,” and the inviter ends the invite by calling our name.  “You can rest your weary bones here.  You can nourish your weakened muscles here.   You can calm your frantic heart here.  You can even pause and take a look at the beauty and the wonder of the world here.  Here the hounds will lose your trail.   Of course, you can’t stay here forever, but the time that you spend here will give you the strength and courage to make it through the next week, when I’ll call out to you again.”

     You hear the panting of the hounds behind you, you muscles ache and your lungs beg for air.  So, you do it….you step into the dark, following the calling voice, and you discover, that everything that the beckoner promised……..was true.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord   11-4-12

Hello,

     I found myself shaking my head in disbelieving shock in the wake of the hurricane dubbed Sandy that bullied the Northeast.  My oscillating head was not set in motion by the images of the destruction that the wind and waves dealt upon products of human hands.  Although I was deeply saddened by the plight of those who found themselves in fury’s way, I wasn’t shocked for I know that when humans line up against the forces of nature, we are like a 5^th grade football team taking our stand against the NFL.  We are so bound to get crushed that to say we are underdogs is an egotistic exaggeration.

     What set my head a wagging was something that I heard as I travelled to work a couple of days after the hurricane hit: neighborhood stores were being looted.  As the water swept into the buildings flooding the floors, people waded into that water and swept the shelves clear of the merchandise that the store owners had placed there to serve the community and by which to make a living.  It was shocking to me that people, looters, would take advantage of those whose lives had just crumbled in front of them by the destruction of the storm on their livelihood, and then kick them in the teeth by stealing away any shred of hope that remained.  It is headshakingly shocking to me.

     But now some days later having had time bring a halt to my shock-born head shaking, allowing my eyes to see things more clearly…I find myself seeing such looting going on around me all the time.  I’ve seen people’s lives looted when a hurricane named Divorce has blown into their lives and their sense of worth is plundered by the gossip that follows.  I’ve seen school children of all ages, pre-school to college, have their lives looted when tests are handed back and the audible and inaudible snickers loot any crumb of value that the hurricane named Failure hasn’t already swept away.  I’ve seen adults have their lives looted when the hurricane named Unthinkable Sin has raged through their lives, and then any shred of hope is grabbed from them by the sticky fingers of judgment and shame.  The truth is that there is something all too common for people who have just been crushed by a hurricane, that they find themselves kicked in the teeth by looters who prey on them.

     I don’t know when it was so dubbed, but the space in which we gather as the people of God every Sunday morning is called The Sanctuary.  It is so named because it is the place where Jesus, the one who stood up to the storm of storms, a storm named Sin and Death, and crushed it on Easter Sunday morning when he rose from the tomb, gathers us under his protection like a mother hen sheltering her chicks with her wings.  The place where we gather every Sunday morning, the Sanctuary, is a place of safety from the looters of the world.  Although the looters of the world may take advantage of you and kick you in the teeth when storms have shattered your life, the Lord of the Sanctuary will not.  When you enter his Sanctuary he will begin to repair your life with his words of forgiveness.  When you come to his table he will heal your wounds with the wounds he suffered, his body and blood.  And when your knees crumple, he will take hold of you and set you back on your feet after your conversation with him called prayer.

     So, in this world of life crushing storms, let me extend to you Jesus’ invitation, “Come unto me all you that are weary and heaven laden and I will give you rest.”  And don’t be surprised that when it comes time to leave the Sanctuary and face the stormy world that you find your head shaking in disbelieving shock, shock that the one who spans the reaches of the universe has just wrapped his arms around you and filled you with something no one or nothing can loot from you: God’s love for you.

     Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

The Bungee Cord 10-29-12

Hello,

     Today I did a funeral for a young man, only 31 years old.  I did not know him.  I had never met him.  One of the members of my church is a funeral director, and as I rode with him to the cemetery for a funeral that I did with him this weekend, he asked me if I could do a funeral on Tuesday for this young man who had no pastor.

     “Sure,” I said, “I’d be glad to do it.”

     And I was glad to do it, but I was also a bit afraid to do it.  It is a frightening enough trek to walk with people that I know through the valley of the shadow of death, let along take that journey with people whom I have never met.  And to make it even more frightening would be to take that walk into the dark valley of the death of one so young.

     I called the family and arranged to meet with them on the day of the funeral, today, before the visitation at the funeral home.  What does a person say to those whose grief and pain is as thick and deep as an Amazon rain forest?

      When I arrived, the funeral director introduced me to the family, who when I shook their trembling hands broke into tears.  I tried to express my sympathies as best I could, and I invited them to have a seat so we could talk. 

     “How are you doing?” I asked.  No sooner did the words slip from my mouth that I thought to myself, “What a obvious question….of course they were doing terribly….their son and brother had just died.”  But what question  could one ask that wouldn’t seem a bit empty.  “Not well, I am sure,” I answered my own question.

    “Not well,” they responded, and I listened as they spoke of the hurricane of suffering that had hit them.  They spoke of their love for their son who had struggled trying to settle his feet amidst the waves of storms that had hit his life; some storms he had walked into against the words of others, and some storms that hit him out of nowhere as he was getting close to planting his feet.  I listened for fifteen pain-full minutes, had a prayer with them, and said that I would be back in about an hour to conduct the service.

     So, what did I say when I came back for the service?   I read Romans 8:31-39, and  I said what I say at every funeral, honing in on this family’s unique grief.  “I didn’t know him,” I started, speaking of the young man, “as you have known him.  But I am here because I do know someone who also died in his early thirties, someone who got blown around by the bullying storms of the world.  Someone who also walked into storms against the words of others, and someone who found himself in many a swirl not of his inviting.  But also someone for whom his Father’s love for him, his heavenly Father, was so great that that love demolished the black hole of death in an explosion of life, everlasting life.  God sent his Son, Jesus into this world, because he holds in his heart the same love for this son (this young man) as he does for his Son.  God has known the grief that you feel, and just as he did for his Son, he will not let death have the final word for this son….or for you.”

     I know some of you who read the Bungee Cord very well, others I know as well as the young man that I buried today.  Yet, whether we know each other well or not, this I do know: the valley of the shadow of death (the smaller death we encounter every day, and the final death we well enter on our last day) is on our maps, and I know the one who takes hold of our hands as we walk into that valley, having himself walked through it before, and says, “I’ve got ahold of you.  I won’t let go.”

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord 10-23-12

Hello,

     It was 80 degrees here today, so when I got home I decided that both Duncan (my dog) and I needed a good autumn stroll.  So, I grabbed his leash and said, “Duncan, do you want to go for a walk?”  Wondering if he heard what he thought he heard, he tilted his head askew, and I asked again.  Certain that he heard what he hoped he heard, his tail started wagging like a plane’s propeller, and he darted to the back corner of our property where our walks always begin.

     However, rather than going northwest to the butterfly hill, Duncan decided to go down the edge of our property to the west taking us to the woods where we had not gone before.  The woods are a 400 acre plot of land that has trails running through it like blood vessels.  We began our trek around three in the afternoon, and I figured if we stayed on a trail we could take a short hike and see some new sights and be home before supper.  Unfortunately, the trail took us deep into the tall trees, and soon I had no idea where I was.

I knew that there was a main trail to the north, and thanks to the bright sun that was in the southern sky, I tried to keep the sun on my back.  An hour later, the sun guided me to the trail that I was familiar with.  Tired and worn we climbed up the hill from which we began, and when we walked in the door of our house Duncan plopped down the floor and I on the couch.  Neither of us had expected the work out that we got, and both of us were glad that light of the sun had led us home.

I don’t know about you,  but my life is a lot like my afternoon walk…..along a path that I know not where it is taking me, up and down exhausting hills, and guided by the Son.

“O God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown.  Give us faith to go out with good courage, no knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen” (Evangelical Lutheran Worship p. 304)

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee 10-18-12

Hello,

     I don’t know if I’ll be saying this in December, but right now I really like my drive to  and from work.  It is about a 23 mile ride, and it begins with a winding incline to the top of the ridge on a two lane road that cuts through the woods.  This past week has been the peak of the fall colors, and on my ride over the ridge I am surrounded by orange, red, yellow, green and burgundy to my right and my left and above.  Ribbons of sunlight slice through the foliage.  An occasional deer or raccoons stands on the side of the road and follows me with their glace, turning their heads as I pass by.  Birds swoop from one tree to another.  Once over the ridge the road takes me to a panoramic vista that spans for miles and gathers in the hillside farms, the small towns, and multicolored tree lines.  Further along my ride, I pass through the towns where the children await their bus, and sometimes there’s some brave souls out for their daily jog.  I often share the road with only a few cars, and sometimes with no cars at all.  It is peaceful.  It is a blessing.   It is beautiful.  Describing it falls far short of seeing it.  I wish that you could ride along with me and see the beauty that I see.

     To me, this is also what the heart of telling others about Jesus is all about.  It is an invitation to ride along life’s path and take in the beauty that I have been graced to see.  As I wind my way from life’s valley to ridge,  the warmth of Jesus compassion envelops me like an autumnal forest, to my right and left and above me.  As I exit the woods Jesus takes me to a hilltop crest see a vista of hope that is more than my eyes can take in, a crest  that holds a cross stained with Jesus’ sin gathered blood…..taking my sins away….taking my breath away.  It is peaceful.  It is a blessing.  It is beautiful.  Describing it falls far short of seeing.  I wish that you could ride along with me and see the beauty that I see.  That is why I tell you and others about Jesus.

     I don’t find myself to be one who tells others about Jesus in order to save them from the fury of hell, because I know that life is hellish enough, with cesspools all over the place.  I don’t think I have to turn people’s eyes to the painful realities of this world.  It is easy to have our eyes caught upon the cesspools of life and turn to despair and hopelessness.  And I don’t think that I am being simple and naïve to think that one can keep from seeing the pain all around us by just looking elsewhere.  No, when I turn people’s eyes to Jesus and the beauty that is there to behold in him, I am hoping that they see something that I have been given to see… amazing grace, Jesus loves me, for unto us a child is born, a beautiful savior….

I hope you will be part of the ride this Sunday in church…and see what I have be graced to see….something that will leave an impression on you….an impression of hope, an impression of peace, and an impression of delight.  There is a beauty to Jesus that is greater than the Pennsylvania hills in the autumn.  Let me invite you to catch a glimpse of it!

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord 10-8-12

Hello,

     Today is a visual Bungee Cord….hope this works!....and hope you can see it!

      Here’s a sunset that we saw off of our back deck last week, looking out over the hills….

ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL!

Here’s a sunset that might have been seen off of some Jerusalem rooftop some years ago looking out over a hill…..

BEAUTIFULLY ABSOLUTE!

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord  10-1-12

Hello,

     There’s a theory that says every human being is connected to every other human being by no more than six degrees of separation.  If that is true, that means that I know some one, who knows someone, who knows someone, who knows someone, who knows someone, who knows some person in some remote corner of the world.  It does make the world seem pretty small!

     The other day I was thinking about this theory and it occurred to me that I stand only a few degrees of separation from a couple of pretty famous people of our day: President Obama and Ben Rothlisberger.  Let me tell you how I am connected to them.

     I grew up across the street from the current governor of Illinois, Pat Quinn.  He was a handful of years older than me, but his youngest brother was one of my regular playmates.  His brother and I would play endless games of home run derby in his back yard using a wiffle ball bat and a plastic golf ball.  He was the White Sox.  I was the Cubs.  Every once in a while, Pat would be part of a neighborhood touch football game.  So, since I “know” Pat Quinn, and as Governor of Illinois, President Obama’s home state, Pat knows President Obama….I am only a small degree of separation from the President of the United States.

     For nearly eight years, I lived in Arlington, Ohio, a small town a mere seven uninterrupted miles from Findlay, Ohio.  During those years, Ben Rothlisberger lived in Findlay and attended Findlay High School where he played basketball and football.  Having known the Arlington basketball and football players pretty well, I am sure that at least one of them spent some time playing sports with Ben Rothlisberger.  Thus my two degree of separation connection to Ben Rothlisberger.

     Truth to be told, I don’t know how much good my connection to Ben Rothlisberger and President Obama will do me.  I am not sure that a call to either of them telling them that I grew up across the street from Pat Quinn or that I lived in Arlington for seven years would get either of them to open their doors if I knocked on them.

     Herein lies the wonder of Jesus.  When you and I knock on the doors of heaven in prayer, we do not place our hopes of catching his ear by saying that we grew up across the street from someone he knows, or that we lived in a town with someone who he knows.  No, when we knock on the doors of heaven in prayer, there is no degree of separation, for Jesus takes one look at you and I who knock and he says, “Oh, I know you….I died for you.”

     It might be a fun thing to compare at a party our list of people to whom we are connected with the lists that our friends have, and at best those lists might open a few doors for us.  But to hear that we are on Jesus’ list of those to whom he is connected, directly connected by his death – now, that is far more than fun.  That is a cause for hope when everything seems hopeless.  That is a cause for peace when everything seems to be falling apart.  That is a cause for joy when dark clouds lumber upon us.  That is a cause for celebration when death cries “victory”.

     It may be true that each of us is connected to every one on the earth by a separation of six people or less.  But a more valuable and wonderful truth is this: each of us is directly connected to Jesus…..a connection that opens the doors that really matter.

Have a great week…..I’ll say hi, for you,  to Ben or Barack if I see them.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord 9-24-12

Hello,

   Some months ago I told you of some new neighbors who moved in – actually they weren’t neighbors, they were squatters making their home in my yard: groundhogs.  We have been setting live traps for them , and having the traps out for the most of the summer, it seems as though we have emigrated them elsewhere.  We have left the traps out, just in case any of them, or their relatives, decided to take up home back in our yard, but we haven’t caught anything for the last month or so.  That is until yesterday.

   Yesterday, my wife was weedwacking and as she neared one of the traps she thought she saw something move in it, and sure enough, we had caught ourselves another varmint.  As she neared the trap, though, she discovered we had not caught a ground hog.  We had caught a skunk!  Not wanting to be sprayed, she quickly backed away, and came and told me of our catch.

     I said, “Well, we will have to talk to Ralph (our friendly neighbor who has helped us “relocate” the groundhogs) and see if he will help us.”  So, later in the day, Ralph happened by and I said to him, “If I gave you a beer, would you do me a favor?”

     With a glimmer of wonder as to what these greenhorn neighbors of his had gotten themselves into now, he said, “Well…..depends upon the favor.”

    “You know those traps that we’ve been setting for the groundhogs?”

   “Yup,” he said through his Yosemite Sam beard.

   “Well, one of the traps is full, and it’s not with a groundhog.”

   That’s all I needed to say, and he said, “You caught a skunk, didn’t you?”

   “Yup,” I said back.

   “Well, it may cost you more than one beer, but we’ll see what we can do to take care of it,”  and with that I invited him into our house for payment and briefing on how we were going to get this skunk out of our trap without becoming the recipient of its perfume.

     Those of us who have been dubbed the name Christian for a while have come to know that Jesus is quite adept at “relocating” the groundhog sins, the pesky and bothersome things that we do, from our lives….the things that we know other people will even forgive.  But when it comes to the skunk sins, the really stinky things, the things that for which the world dumps shame on us, the things that crash into our lives like a hurricane…the things so rancid that no one wants to be around us, and smell so bad that we don’t even like being around ourselves…..well, the one who knows how to deal with groundhog sins, also knows how to deal with the skunk ones, too.

   He says, “Bring them to me, and I’ll “relocate” them.  I’ll take them off of you, and place them on me, and I will exterminate them.  I’ll take them to death with me as I breathe my last on the cross, and they will be finished.  I am not just an exterminator of groundhog sins…..I died for the skunk ones, too.”

     And here’s good news to go with that: it doesn’t cost you a thing….not a beer, or even two beers….not a single cent, not an IOU, not a pledge or a promise.  Jesus took on the price himself, and so there is no price to pass on to us.

     So, if you have caught something in a trap….a groundhog sin or a skunk sin….come this Sunday to church and lay whatever it is at the feet of Jesus and hear the words of death and life from Jesus, “You are forgiven.”  Forgiven so that you can live with others.  Forgiven so that you can live with God….but most of all, forgiven so that you can live with yourself.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

The Bungee Cord   9-17-12

Hello,

     This past Sunday I was installed as the Senior Pastor of First Lutheran Church of Greensburg, Pennsylvania, a church at which I have been working since the first of June.  “Makes it sound like he’s a computer program,” said someone reacting to what happened to me on Sunday.  And given that I have been the Senior Pastor there for the last three months, it may seem a bit late to install me now, after all it feels to me like I have been doing what a pastor is supposed to do over this past summer.

     Maybe in the computer world in which we live, the word “install” creates a bit of confusion, for the installation of a pastor isn’t really meant to mark the day that a pastor begins to work, but it is the day that the pastor makes promises to the congregation as to what they can expect of his or her work, and the congregation likewise makes promises to the pastor of what she or he can expect from them in their shared mission.   So this past Sunday the congregation and I promised that we would pray for each other, support each other, draw upon God’s strength in our work, and sing the notes of God’s grace and mercy that Lutherans have sung for over 500 years.  “I will,” I said, “and I ask God to help me.”, and so said the congregation.  Installed.

     Interestingly enough, one of the Bible passages selected to be read in every Lutheran church in the world was Mark 8, where Jesus asked his disciple who people thought that he was.  The disciple told Jesus the variety of what people were thinking.  Then Jesus responded to their answers, “But who do you say that I am?”  Peter spoke boldly and rightly, “You are the Messiah.”  I say that I find it interesting and ironic that this passage should be appointed for the Sunday on which I was installed because it is probably the most important passage for a newly installed pastor and the receiving congregation to hear.  It is important because it makes something perfectly clear, and this is it: that no matter how skilled or talented or no matter how experienced or wise any pastor might be, no pastor is the Messiah.  Jesus is.

     As a pastor, it is far too easy to slip into placing far too much responsibility on my shoulders, and likewise it is also far to easy for a congregation to likewise place far too much responsibility on the shoulders of their pastor.  Sure, as a pastor, I need to do my best. God deserves no less.  I need to do my best in preaching, in teaching, in relating to people, in coordinating the ministry of the church, and everything else that a pastor does.  Yet all the while doing my best, it is essential for me and the congregation to remember, I am not the Messiah.  Jesus is.

     Pastors don’t save people.  Jesus does.  No matter how eloquent the speech, no pastor can take a broken heart and rise up new life in it….only Jesus can do that.  No matter how savvy a pastor is in the latest trends and fads, no pastor can pull people away from the empty things that take hold of their lives…only Jesus can do that.  And no matter how good and holy a pastor’s life might be, no pastor can unleash (by themselves) the chains of sin or break down the gates of death….only Jesus can do that.

     As I promise the congregation of First Lutheran Church how I will work among them, and they make promises to me, it is important to know…it is a relief to know…it is a blessing to know….that I am not the messiah….Jesus is.   And I hope and pray that Jesus will use me as a vessel of his grace and mercy to accomplish only what he, the Messiah, can do.

     I am now the officially installed Senior Pastor of First Lutheran Church of Greensburg, Pennsylvania.  Jesus is the Messiah!

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger