The Bungee Cord 6-30-15

Hello,

     A couple of weeks ago I was in Chicago for my daughter-in-law’s graduation.  We flew into O’Hare Airport and caught the Blue Line train into the city.  When we got off the train and walked up the stairs, I look around and I felt right at home.  Unbeknownst to me, the train dropped us off at the corner of Madison and Dearborn, the corner that used to house First Federal Savings and Loan, the place that I worked for 5 summers and several Christmas’ during my college years.

     Much had changed.  The old brick building that I had worked in had been replaced by a shiny metal and glass one.  Dearborn street  now has a bike path marked on it, and the building that was being constructed on the corner of Dearborn and Monroe was completed (a long time ago, I am sure).    But the First National Bank building stood sloped and tall, and it’s courtyard housing the Marc Chagal mosaic had not changed one bit (except it now bore the name Chase).  The Shubert Theater, also renamed, stood exactly as it had before, and the Italian Village Restaurant still had the same façade and inside.  Even though much had changed, that which hadn’t gave me enough landmarks to help me know exactly where I had wound up, and even feel like I was back at home.

     I suspect that some of you reading this Bungee Cord have found yourselves in worship nearly every Sunday for all of your lives, and the place that you are worshipping now brings a warmth to your life and faith like only home can.  If you have been a longtime congregant, you have seen some things change: pastors, people, colors, music, formalities…..and although you remember how things used to be, having lived through the transitions for you it is not the old things that make you feel at home, but it is the new things that fit you so well that carries the warmth of home.

    Others of you, I suspect, have not found yourself regularly in worship over the years.  For those of you who find yourself thus, I would venture to guess that the thought of going to worship does not harmonize with going home.  It may have been that when you have gone to worship, things are so different now that it feels like an alien world.  But let me invite you to look around that worship experience with “Chicago eyes” and see if there are not still some things that are still there that you might savor and make you feel at home.  A hymn?  A face or two?  Holy Communion?   Baptism?  Bible readings?  Gathering of prayers?  Amid all that has changed, maybe there are still landmarks to gather in that pull you back to home.

     Of course, some of the changes may resonate very well with where you are at in life and fit better than the way things used to be.  Maybe you remember when doubts and questions were not very welcome….well in the church that I serve they are welcomed with open arms.  Maybe you remember that it seemed like following rules was the central focus of the Christian faith….well in the church that I serve being shaped by the grace of God is primary.  Maybe you remember the feeling that the institution of the church with its budgets and buildings seemed to be at the heart of things…well in the church that I serve I strive to make the transformational abiding presence of Christ the heart of our existence.  Maybe you remember a sense that the church felt more like a club that had its eyes only on itself….well in the church that I serve I do my best ( as most pastors do, I think) to keep our eyes also upon the world and serve the world with the heart of Christ.

     And, I suspect that some of you who are reading the Bungee Cord have never gone to a Christian worship service, and the thought of doing so is not a journey home but a venture on a unchartered trip.  Certainly that is true….but maybe….just maybe you will surprisingly find that although you may have never been there before, the love of Christ that you experience there just might make you feel like you have finally found your home.

     In the Bible there is a story about two sons, often called the story of the Prodigal Son.  One son leaves home and comes back…the other stays and never leaves….but to both sons the father’s feelings are the same when he says to them both (paraphrased), “It is great to have you home.”

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

The Bungee Cord  6-22-15

Hello,

     This past Sunday in worship we had a Slam Dunk Contest….not really, but really.

     In the worship service every week, we collect an offering….not to pay our bills, but to offer an expression of thanks and trust to God who has been bountiful in goodness to us.    It is thankfulness that gathers us, thankfulness that motivates us, and thankfulness that sustains us.  If thankfulness is not the driving force for our offerings….that is to say that if we are not able to derive thanks to God for the astounding grace that he has give us, the grace shown in the death and resurrection of his Son, Jesus, then  clearly we have missed the point of why we gather, of what motivates us, and our purpose for keeping on.

     Given the “pay for fees” environment in which we live, thankful giving is a hard thing to learn, practice and teach.  That is why we start very young.  While the offering plates wind their way through the congregation, we invite the children to get up out of their seats and come to the altar area and place their offering in the “Thank You Jesus” jar.  To watch the children stroll up the aisle with delight in their step, and sometimes run, is a witness to all of us adults who do not always exhibit such delight and joy in giving an offering.

     This past Sunday I experienced such a witness coming from a child of less than two years old.  I saw him stroll tentatively up the aisle hand in hand with his grandmother.  They walked together until they reached the stairs where she let go of his hand and let him climb the three stairs and walk the handful of steps to the altar area where the “Thank You Jesus” jar was placed.  The steps he took by himself were slow and measured, often looking back at his grandmother to make sure that he was doing what he was supposed to do, and when he reached the “Thank You Jesus” jar, he looked back at his grandmother who motioned him to drop his offering in.  Giving him a nod, he stretched out his diminutive arm over the large jar and from his hand slipped a one dollar bill.  The bill hit the rim of the jar, but like a free throw dancing on the rim, it fell in.  Surprising to me, there still remained one more dollar bill in his hand.  How it didn’t’ slip out with the first, I don’t know…and I think that he didn’t know either.  So, he took a look at that stubborn dollar still attached to his tiny hand and with all the force that he could muster he flung it into the “Thank You Jesus” jar.  Slam Dunk!  A dunk that outmatched any dunk of Michael Jordan, the king of dunk.  A 10+.  And just like a basketball player celebrating having put down a dunk against a towering foe, a big smile came across his face as he turned around and he dashed to his grandmother, his short, stubbing legs churning in delight.

     I learned something from watching that little child.  I learned that giving my offering was something to celebrate.  True, I don’t think that that child’s actions were a result of being thankful to God for all of God’s goodness, but maybe it was his innocent and naïve understanding of what he was doing that had the power to break through my adult hesitancies and misgivings.  I know that for myself, my offering has a tendency to cling to my hand – stuck on my worries and fears, my greed and pride, my cynicism and faithlessness – much like that first dollar that found its way into the “Thank You Jesus” jar as it slipped from that child’s hand and rim-shot its way in.  But when I saw that child slam dunk that second dollar into the “Thank You Jesus” jar, I saw in his dunk a defiance against everything that makes us worry and fear, that turns us into hoarders of God’s goodness, and that makes us people who live with “grab-itude” instead of gratitude.  “In your eye!” (That’s basketball jargon for “Take that!”), I heard him say with his dunk, even though he isn’t able yet to verbalize much.

     We do have so much for which to be thankful to God…every breath, every moment, every thing, and especially every bit of divine mercy and grace.  Sometimes I forget that, and because of my forgetfulness I usually place my offering in the offering plate with a soft drop.  But maybe this week I will remember….remember the over abundant grace of God, and when the offering plate comes by I will slam dunk my offering in it, defiantly saying to everything that tries to pull me down, “In your eye!”…and with celebration and delight saying, “Thank You Jesus!”

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord  6-15-15

Hello,

     “You don’t look like a manual transmission guy,” said a recent high school grad who works on cars and sat next to me at a recent wedding reception.

     We were talking, he and I, as we awaited our turn to go to the buffet, and when I found out his interest in cars, I told him that I drive a new Mini Cooper. (For you fellow Mini Cooper fans, mine is one of the new 4 door Mini’s….an “S” of course…a 2.0 turbo charged…manual transmission.)  I told him that it packs a bit of a punch, especially when you put it in “Sport Mode” (when you do so, a go-kart appears on the big circular screen in the middle of the dash).

     “I bet it would really have a lot of zip if it was a manual,” he said to me.

     “Of course it’s a manual.  It’s the only way to drive a Mini!”, said I.

     “Oh, you don’t look like a manual transmission guy.”

     What does a “manual transmission guy” look like, I wonder?

     Was it my balding head that caused my exclusion from a “manual transmission guy”?  Or maybe my increased waistline?  Or maybe the black suit and clerical collar that I was wearing?  I suppose to an 18 year old car guy, there are many things about when looking at me that would lead him to say, “Oh, you don’t look like a manual transmission guy.”

     But if I had said to him instead, let’s go out and I’ll show you my car, and as we walked around it, and he sat down in the form fitting driver’s seat, put his hands on the leather bound steering wheel, and then reached over to the gear shift, noticing the shift pattern on the knob….I bet that he would have said, “Oh, you’re a manual transmission guy!”

     To look at me, I bet that some people might not only say, “Oh, you don’t look like a manual transmission guy,”  they might also say, “Oh, you don’t look like a Christian kind of guy.”  When my words are sharp.  When my actions are hurtful.  When my greed is exposed.  When my doubts come to the surface.  There is plenty about me that to look at me might someone to say, “Oh, you don’t look like a Christian kind of guy.”

     That is why I try to do with those who legitimately wonder if I am a Christian kind of guy as I should have done with my young friend who wondered if I was a “manual transmission guy” whom I should have first shown him my car….I try and first show them Jesus.  Jesus, the embodiment of God’s love.  Jesus the Word of transformational forgiveness and mercy.  Jesus, the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep, and searches to find every one of his fold.  Jesus, the one whose resurrection power is so great that nothing can never sever God from those who bear his name.  Jesus, the one who is the stamp and seal of 1 John 3:1, “See what love the Father has given us that we should be called children of God.  And that is what we are.”

     And when they see Jesus…instead of me…see his love that form fits every sort of person….when they put their hands on the steering wheel that can grab corners and turns like none other…and when they take hold of the gear shift, the cross…..they just might say of me, “Oh, you are a Christian kind of guy.”….and they might just say of themselves….”Oh, maybe I am, too.”

     Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord 5-8-15

Hello,

     I spent the weekend in the Quad Cities, actually just two of them, Davenport and Bettendorf (Iowa).  I was there to celebrate the wedding of my niece, and a wonderful celebration it was.  The weather was great.  Visiting with relatives was a treat, and everything about the wedding was simply grand.

     Since I was the one to escort my mother into the worship service, I took a seat outside of the sanctuary waiting my time.  As I sat there I watched the folks walk by me, a varied crowd, I tried to guess the station in life of those who passed by.  I guessed that the formally attired folks were business people.  Those dressed in cowboy boots and plaid shirts were rural stock.  There were some who by their step and style seemed collegiate to me.  But from all of the guests, there was one who particularly stood out in my guessing.  I saw him dip as he came through the doors, and as he walked past me, I found myself having to strain my neck like a baby robin prepared to receive food from its mother.  I might add that my mouth was likewise gaping fully….not because I was hungry, but because I was in awe.

     This young man was awesome!  Huge – not in breadth, but in stature.  (I found out later that he is 7 ft. 2 in.)  He was sturdy in build.  The size of his hands matched his height, as did the size of his head.  Although I know that not every overly tall person plays basketball, in this case I didn’t think I would be too far off to guess so for this guy. 

     Based upon his agility on the dance floor at the reception, I decided that my guess must be right.  As you might guess, he was rather easy to spot on the floor, rising above the rest of the crowd which all were far shorter than his shoulders.  Apparently he liked to dance, for every time I gazed toward the dance floor there he would be, dancing away.  Shuffling his feet and singing along with the music.  He knew how to do the Electric Slide, and all the motions to songs like “Jump”.  All 7 ft. 2 in. of him.  I suppose that there were others on the dance floor who were there as often he, and knew the dances as well as he….but when you’re 7 ft. 2 in…..you kind of stand out.

     Well, when it comes to standing out on the dance floor, there has been one who has stood out more than the 7 ft. 2 in. “Fred Astaire” of this wedding’s weekend...one who has been called “The Lord of the Dance”.  And the reason that he stood out wasn’t that he was 7 ft. 2 in., or that he danced the dances of the world better than any one else.  The reason that he stood out was that he danced like no one else.  Every one else danced with judgment and rules, with grudges and fear, with heavy hearts and narrow minds….but no “The Lord of the Dance”.  He danced with forgiveness and mercy, with hope and peace, with grace and new life.  So different was his dancing that the rest of the dancers kicked him off the dance floor.

     I don’t know the name of that 7 ft. 2 in dancing guy that stood out this weekend, but I do know the name of the one who is called “The Lord of the Dance.”  His name is Jesus.

     As a follower of Jesus, I can tell you that I’ve been laughed at when other people watch me dance….foolishly forgiving, caring for the foolish, hoping amidst the storm, and storming into the world with peace.  Regularly I see the stares of the world, and their jeers, “Where did that guy learn how to dance.”  I, and all those who follow Jesus’ lead kind of stand out, but when Jesus has taken hold of your hand and asked you out on the dance floor to dance with him, of this I am certain: you will know a peace unlike any dance you’ve dance before, you will be swept off your feet in a hope that no other dance has ever lifted you before, and you will be stomp your feet and clap your hand with such a joy that you have never felt before.

     So, when you feel your heart tugged to go to church this Sunday, the tugging that you will feel is no mild invitation….it’s the Lord who desires to dance with you….to transform your life, to break open your heart, and to give you new footwork as you step out into the world.  Yes, you’ll stand out, but after you get the knack of Jesus’ dance you glad that you did!

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord 6-1-15

Hello,

    My dog, Duncan, has been dealt the worst master ever….at least in his eyes.  He’s a Gordon Setter, a bird dog.  An instinctual hunter…..living in the home of a master who has never….nor will he ever…hunt.  Nevertheless, he has not let his hunting instincts die.  He hunts critters around our house: rabbits, squirrels, and the occasional turkey or pheasant that we encounter on our walks.  Unfortunately, he has also set his appetite on our chickens (of which he has nabbed two) and our outdoor cats, both of whom are still alive.

     Duncan regularly takes his post just outside the woodshed where the cats make their home.  We’ve had them since last summer, and even though we have tried to teach Duncan that the cats are his friends, he deems otherwise.  Every once in a while he will spot one of them as they are out for their hunt, and when he does he goes catatonic (ha ha)  until he discerns they are within striking distance and he bolts after them.  If they are close to the woodshed, to date they have always arrived there safely.  And if they are too far away, they run to my pick-up and take refuge in the frame of the truck.

     A couple of days ago when I arrived home from work, I found Duncan madly circling my truck.  Dashing around it, coming to a sudden stop, stick his nose underneath it, his tail at point in proper hunting technique.  I tried to call him away, telling him that he should leave the cats alone.  He observed his selective listening habit, too caught up in his current hunt.  Around and around the truck he went, until he’d had enough and decided to slink under it.  Crawling on all fours like a trained marine he made his way toward the animal, when suddenly he stopped his approach and began wildly barking. 

     “It’s just the cat,” I said to him walking to the truck to see if I could coax him out, when all of the sudden there was a “plop” as his prey dropped from the truck and ran out the other side.  With uncanny speed, Duncan reversed himself from under the truck and took off in mad pursuit, inches behind the cat…..no….not the cat…a groundhog!  Chugging its stubbly legs it took off into the underbrush of the woods, and so did Duncan.  Down the hill they went and also out of my sight.  I started calling for Duncan, not knowing if he had snagged the groundhog, or if the groundhog might have snagged him.

     Eventually he heeded my call and he appeared from the woods, nothing in his mouth and bearing no blood from the ground hog’s claws.  It must have made it to one of its holes just in the knick of time.  Even though the ground hog had escaped his chase, Duncan’s hunting blood still remained boiling and he sniffed and stirred around in frenetic fury.  His excitement was contagious, and it caught me.  Although I didn’t begin to sniff and stir, I could feel my senses come alive and thrill enliven my soul.

     I didn’t expect such excitement as I came to the end of our lane when I came home from work.  Usually things are pretty tame and pretty routine….and there’s something good about that.  But every once in a while, usually when I expect it least, upon my arrival I am delightfully surprised, my heart is jolted by excitement, and youthful energy percolates through my veins.  Those are times that I am glad I didn’t miss.

     I think the same thing can be said about Sunday morning worship.  Most often it’s pretty regular and routine, and there’s something really good about that because on those days we experience the swaddling grace of God.  But every once in a while at worship….maybe it’s a song that we sing, maybe it’s a person who’s there who has faithfully wrestled with life’s trials, maybe it was something that is said in the sermon, maybe the words at the table “given for you” hit you in a way that they never hit you before because of the burdens you are carrying…who knows what it might be.  But every once in a while you find yourself delightfully surprised, your heart jolted with excitement, and youthful energy pulsing through your veins….and you say to yourself, “I am glad that I didn’t miss this!”

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, GGAP,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger