The Bungee Cord 6-30-13

Hello,

An angel sat next to me at lunch the other day at the Biblical seminar, which I have been attending.    Actually this angel sat next to me three times, but the first two times I didn’t recognize my lunch neighbor to be an angel.  The reason for my blindness was the less than angelic behavior that I saw.

My lunch neighbor was a middle school boy who was attending the seminar with his mother, a pastor.  The seminar was designed for pastors to bring family along with them, and many did.  So, the presence of this middle school boy was not unusual, but his behavior was.  If you have ever spent time with middles school boys, you know that they live at an awkward age….an age between residual squirreliness and budding coolness.  This particular middle schooler was clearly leaning toward the squirrelly side of the continuum.

Smaller than most boys his age, I was surprised to hear that he was a middle schooler.  Partnered with his goofy (as in Disney’s Goofy) conversational skills, his unrefined eating habits (including stuffing large wads of food in his mouth and simultaneously laughing at his own jokes), and wriggling around in his chair like a rabbit trying to escape the grip of a trap I would have guessed him far younger than he was.

I don’t know how it happened that for the three lunches I ate at the lodge, I found myself sitting next to this boy.  I am not one of those who believe that God intricately controls every move of my life, but since I do believe that God steps with me in every movement of my life, I have a sneaky feeling that something divine was woven into what was going on.

I don’t remember anything particular that he said to me at the first two lunches, it all seemed to be a scrambled egg blending of silliness and tactlessness.  The third lunch began in the same way, but then something happened that opened my blurry visioned eyes.

We were just about to start eating, and when the cry went up, “Who would like to pray?”, my middle school neighbor raised his hand and let loose a shriek that I am sure echoed through the Rockies.  “I will,”

“Oh, no.” I thought to myself….this aught to be interesting.

And interesting it was.  A sudden calm came across him, and he folded his hands on the table and closed his eyes.  And with the reverence of a sagely grandfather, he said, “Lord, thank you for this food.  Thank you for the nice people who have carefully prepared it for us, and as we eat it, don’t let us forget those people who don’t have much food.  And help us also to remember those people who just need a little help each day to make it through.  Lord, put us in their paths.  Amen.”

There was silence.  An angel had just spoken.

The word “angel” comes from the Greek (it is even spelled the same way), and it means, “messenger”.  That young boy delivered a message, a divine message that sent shock waves to my heart…sock waves of guilt that I should have fallen prey to what the world thinks of squirrelly middle school boys…and shock waves of the divine compassion that God holds in God’s heart for those who serve in small ways and those who struggle in life.

Three times an angel sat next to me at lunch, and my life has been forever changed.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

The Bungee Cord  6-21-13

Hello,

     “It’s an easy hike,” so said the director of the continuing ed event that I am attending in the Rockies.  So, last Thursday I joined 16 others at the bottom of a mountain called “Twin Sisters”, ready to saunter my way from our beginning point of 9000 feet to the peak at 11,500.

     I was lied to.  It was not easy.  No further than the first five minutes, and I was feeling my lungs call for more oxygen.  But with the words, “It is an easy hike,” ringing in my ears, I figured that I had simply gotten off to a bad start.  Maybe I started off too fast.  Or maybe it was steepest at the beginning of the trail.  Unfortunately, as I pressed on, even at a slower pace, the incline did not diminish nor did my exhaustion.  So, for the next 2 ½ hours I plodded my way up the mountain side…along a rock strewn path that turned my ankles to the right and left, through pine trees infiltrated by swarms of mosquitoes who feasted on my oxygen deprived blood, and sipping small tastes of water out of my water bottle in hopes of fending off the effects of the altitude.

     Of the 17 of us who began the trek, 10 of us made it the 3-mile path to the top. Before you slap me too hard on my back with congratulations, you should know that the ones who did not reach the top were a couple of elementary aged kids and their mother, a pair of 65+ men, and a elderly couple.  I have to admit that the view from the top was breath taking, and rightfully so, because the air was extremely thin.  However, we were not allowed to spend much time capturing the view, because a wall of dark clouds was moving in and it would not have been in our best interest to be caught above the tree line with lightning blasting all around us.

     I did all I could to not gripe or whine as I started to retrace my footsteps down the mountain.  As promised the hike down was not as draining, but more than once I came close to spraining my ankle as I came down unpreparedly hard on my feet.  More than once, I found myself asking myself, “Why did I decide to tackle this mountain?”  Five hours after beginning our ascent we returned to the place where we started, and I was beat, oblivious to what would lead anyone to undertake what I just undertook.  What could possibly be fun or attractive of five straight hours of sheer exhaustion, five hours that provided a 5-minute view of the peaks and valleys around us?

     Of course, I had a choice to tackle that mountain, foolish as my choice may have been.  But for many, might I say all, there is no choice given when standing at the trail head of a high mountain path.  Maybe you are standing there today. 

     I will not lie to you.  It may not be an easy hike.  You may gasp for breath from the first step, and your exhaustion may last far longer than 5 hours.  But here’s the good news.  Unlike me and my mountain climbing troop who could only rely on our own strength and endurance, when you and I face the mountain paths of our lives we do so with the promise of God that he will see us through, Psalm 121.  The heat of the sun will not melt us, because the shade of God’s presence will cover us.  The chill of the dark will not strike us, because God’s ever present love with blanket us.  He will not slumber or sleep, but his attention will always be focused upon us.  Whether we are on our way up, or on our way down, God will watch over us…guiding us, protecting us, and even placing us upon his shoulders when we stumble and fall.

     That is God’s promise to you and to me when we look to the hills and mountains that we encounter.  God does not lie to you.  It may not be easy at all, but every step of the way God will be there with you and no mountain will claim you as its own, because God has staked his claim on you, a claim that God will not release….no matter what…no matter what!

     “I look to the mountains.  From where will my help come?

     My help comes from the LORD, the maker of heaven and earth.”

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord 6-17-13

Hello,

Now that summer is here, I like to travel over the ridge to work with my windows and sunroof open.  It may seem to some who I encounter on the morning road that I am a bit foolish to drive open windowed while the air is still chilled from the night, but I like the refreshing nip that the cool air slaps on my face.

The other wonderful thing about driving with windows and sun roof open is that I can gather in all the smells that waft around me: the smell of crisp pine, the sweet aroma of the honeysuckle, the smell of money flowing from the valley (that’s the smell of cow manure to farmers), and the smell of fresh cut grass that takes me back to my days of mowing lawns in high school.

Every once in a while, though, my open windows and sun roof let smells in to my cockpit that I would rather travel without: the pungent odor of a skunk, the fog of an old diesel truck chugging its way over the ridge, and the residual odor of decay from the raccoon who unsuccessfully tried to cross the road.

A couple of weeks ago the open windows and sunroof drew in a smell that I hadn’t smelled before.  It was a pleasant smell.  Sweet but not sappy.  Earthy but not acrid.  Subtle but not hidden.  Unlike most of the ridge smells that dissipate from my nostrils as I pass them, this smell did not.  It stayed with me, and as a matter of fact got stronger the further I drove.

About two-thirds the way to work as I tilted around one of the bends in the road, I discovered what was making this nose delectable smell and where it was coming from.  It was coming from an old dump truck which I had caught up to, an old dump truck loaded to its fill with a load of fresh mulch.  As I finished my drive to work, the dump truck turned off my road as I entered Greensburg, and as it turned away, so also it took its aroma with it.

You may not find the smell of fresh mulch to be as enchanting as I do, but as I road behind that dump truck, I found myself thinking about why I come to church every Sunday in a way that I had not thought before, and this is it: to fill my dump truck with fresh mulch and carry that aroma into the world.  Of course the mulch that I receive at worship is not ground up trees, but it is the forgiveness that came from the one who was hung on a Calvary tree.

The wind and weather has a way of damping the scent of mulch, and it also has a way of eroding the sweet smelling words of Jesus’ forgiveness.  So I come to church every Sunday, to dump the load of mulch from the week before, mulch whose aroma has been weakened, and to reload my dump truck with new mulch….mulch that reeks (in the best of ways) with Jesus forgiveness of me, and the forgiveness with which he means to permeate the world.  And permeate it he does as I drive around, in my dump truck (figuratively, of course, because as you know I drive a Mini Cooper which is far more fun to drive over the ridge), leaving in my wake the delightful aroma of a fresh load of the finest mulch that ever came from a tree….the forgiveness of Jesus.

There’s plenty to fill your dump truck with, too!

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord 6-9-13

Hello,

     Last week as I was taking my dog, Duncan, for his daily walk in the fields that lie around our house we ran into some deer. Actually, we ran into deer twice. Fortunately, Duncan was well attached to his leash, so he wasn’t able to chase down these intruders. 

     The first encounter happened as we came out from a forested area and we surprised two does and by it wobbly legs the third was apparently a newborn fawn.  The does, when they spotted us, took off leaping across the knee-high grass as if they were running a hurdles race.  The fawn, which could not have had enough life behind it to be taught, buckled its unsteady legs and dropped flat to the ground, hidden now by the tall grass.

     Duncan and my intended path would have taken us between the fawn and its mother and accompanying doe-friend, but having remembered the words of my mountain wise friend, Ralph, Duncan and I redirected our route in a different direction.  What Ralph had told me was that a mother doe was as dangerous as a mother bear if it felt its fawn in danger.  So, knowing that that fawn’s mother was undoubtedly just over the hill carefully surveying the safety of its child ready to come charging and trampling any threat, Duncan and I made sure that our revised path was a clear message to that doe, that she had no feed to worry.

     The new path that we took sent us around another hill, through another wooded area, and back into a tall-grassed field.  As we walked along the tall grass, we encountered our second group of deer.  At first we only saw one doe striding slowly through grass.  She didn’t see us, but she did see another doe coming out of a distant tree line.  Behind that doe the grass was moving, and every so often we could see the ears of the very small fawn that was following her.  The first deer sped up her gait and approached the second doe, and just when they were about nose to nose, the second deer rose up on her back legs and assumed the pose of a boxer with her front hoofs.  Soon the approaching deer did the same and a short-lived boxing match began that the mother doe apparently won as the encroaching deer put down her dukes and sprinted away.  Duncan and I watched from afar, but as we neared where the boxing ring was located, we did so wary of being challenged by the boxing mother doe to a fight of our own.  Fortunately, neither Duncan nor I found ourselves in that mother doe’s ring.

     It occurred to me after I got back home, that these two deer encounters might have helped me see in better detail how God keeps his promise to watch over you and me.  Sometimes it might be that when trouble draws near to me and I have instinctively fallen to my knees and I look around for God, and he doesn’t seem to be around….maybe God has responded like that first doe that Duncan and I ran into.  Maybe God has taken off, luring the trouble away from the tall grass that is hiding me.  Even though he may not be in sight, woe to any evil that might come upon me as God stands poised to come leaping and bounding ready to trample the enemy.

     Other times when trouble encroaches, God like that fawn-guarding doe, holds God’s ground, puts up God’s dukes, and says, “You’ve got to get through me if you think you’re going to get to my fawn!”  And woe to any evil that would want to try a round in the ring with God almighty!

     There is a hymn that goes, “Savior like a shepherd lead me much I need your gentle care…”.  After my walk with Duncan, I find myself singing instead, “Savior like a mother doe lead me….”

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger