The Bungee Cord  4-27-20

Hello,

     As I have lived my life these nearly 63 years, over and over again, I have learned that the grip that God has on me is of far more importance than the grip that I have on God.

     I don’t know if it is a universal experience, but when I have found myself hiking in high places and my path brings me to a towering cliff, I can feel my heart speed up, my knees begin to wobble, and my anxiety gathering steam.  As I approach it, my steps are far more cautious and short.  I find myself looking for something to hold onto, and if I get the courage to make it to the edge and look down, dizziness invades my stature, and I feel a strong desire to get down on my hands and knees if I am going to glance downward over the cliff.  I tend to avoid such cliff bound paths.

     I am thankful, therefore, that for much of life’s trek that I have walked, it has not been along a narrow, cliff sided path.  My health has been pretty good, my refrigerator has always been adequately full, my closest relationships have been a blessing. As far as life goes, I am thankful that most of the time I am far away from the cliff’s edge.

     Maybe that is one of the reasons that these last couple of covid19 months have been a bit unsettling for me….and maybe for you. This is a time when we are all finding ourselves on a cliff sided road.  Truthfully, I see myself quite a ways from the edge of the cliff (the deathly danger of this virus is still a bit distant for me), but one cannot hardly take a step in life without having our eyes turned toward that cliff, always being reminded that it is there.  Fact is, that cliff is always there, it is just that for most of us we live our lives looking in other directions.

     There are others, however, who are far more accustomed to walking at cliff’s edge, maybe you are one of them.  And as I have come to know these folks, I have learned something very important from them: the grip that God has on me is of far more importance than the grip that I have on God.  

     A man in one of my previous congregations was very actively involved in Alcoholics Anonymous, and as I got to know him, I got to know the truth of the superior importance of God’s grip on me, than my grip on God.  Fact is, his walk had been one of cliff-side nearness, and when you are walking close to the cliff’s edge you become quite aware of how consequential a stumble or fall might be, and you also become quite aware of how easy it is in life to stumble and fall.  Actually, he had stumbled and fell, more than once.  On many of his falls, he caught himself, and he could pull himself back up from dangling over the cliff.  But a time came when his fall was too far and his arms were not strong enough to pull him up, let alone hang on, and that is when he, like so many others, learned of the powerful love of God for him that would not let him go. Pulled up by God and set back upon the path, he felt the embrace of God in the AA folks that he came to know. And so, to this day, no matter what time of the day or night it might be, if the phone rings and on the other end is someone who is holding on for dear life, this man will go to the cliff’s edge with courage and confidence, courage and confidence in the grip of God on him, and lend his hands to the work of God and with divine strength take hold of someone who is where he has been, hanging from a cliff.

     It is my weekly hope that this Bungee Cord reaches you in the same way.  I hope that every time that I send it out, you feel the grip of God’s love taking hold of you, no matter how near or far from a cliff you are.  Holding on to God is a good thing, but when the rocks underneath you crumble under your feet, when the wind blowing around you causes you to lose  your balance, and when the path is frightenly narrow and treacherous, know this:  God has a grip on you, and God won’t let go (Romans 8)!

     Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

The Bungee Cord  4-6-20

Hello,

     I have a reputation (a good one, I hope) for doing something a bit over the top for Easter Sunday worship.  I figure that doing so is appropriate, after all, on that first Easter Sunday morning God did something quite over the top!  He raised Jesus, his Son, from the dead!

     Not all of the “creative” things that I have done have been universally welcomed….maybe some of you who have been members of the congregations that I have served remember, fondly, I hope, some of the Easter surprises.

     Some years ago, I had, what I thought, was a great idea.  It so happened that on Good Friday, on my way to church for the evening worship service, I stopped at a Quizno’s, sort of an upscale Subway.  As I approached the counter the gal behind the counter took one look at me and said, “I know what you are going to order.”  I was wearing my clerical collar, and since it was Friday, she surmised that I would be ordering the non-meat option.

     When I told her that I would like the roast beef sandwich, she looked at me and said, “Aren’t we still in Lent?”  I responded to her that we indeed were still in Lent, but as a Lutheran pastor, and not a Catholic priest, I still dined on meat on Fridays. Thus the seed for my Easter surprise.

     So, when Easter came and I stepped into the pulpit to proclaim the earth-shaking news of Easter, I began my sermon by telling of my Good Friday Quizno’s encounter.  Borrowing from a famous sermon by Tony Campolo, I said, “You know, that sandwich preparer was right.  We were still in Lent.  But not today.  Lent is over! Easter is here!”

     And then I went on to say with all the southern Christian muster that this northern Lutheran could muster, “All the honest reflection of Lent…looking into the mirror and seeing the pain that we bring into our lives and into the world…pain that tells us over and over again of our failures and weaknesses…that was Lent.  But Lent is gone!”

     And then I paused and said, “And here’s you line:  when you hear me say, ‘and Lent is gone’, I want everyone to stand up and shout as loud as they can, “Easter is here!”

     And so we practiced it once.  I said, “But Lent is gone!”, and everyone in the congregation stood up and sort of yelled, “Easter is here!”

     Not badly done by a bunch of Swedish descendants, but I said, “You know, I bet that if you were at a High School basketball game and someone from our team just scored the winning point as the clock ran out, you would be a lot louder.  And when you consider that victory that Jesus won, when he stepped out of the hands of defeat on Easter Sunday morning….well, I would expect a louder shout than I just heard.  As a matter of fact, I would expect trumpets blaring and the band playing!  Well, actually I think we can do that!”

     That is when I bent over and pulled a grocery bag from behind the pulpit and reached into the bag and pulled out party horns!  Enough horns for everyone in the congregation.  I got down from the pulpit and started handing them out….much with varied levels of delight in the eyes of the receivers. When everyone had their horns, I got back up in the pulpit, and I said, “So, here’s what we are going to do:  when you hear me say, “But Lent is gone!”, jump to your feet and yell, “Easter is here!”.  And after you’ve yelled, blow your horn!”

      And so, I in a series of litanies, I enumerated the heavy things of the world that we take an honest look at during the season of Lent….our sins, our lack of faith, our penchant to fear….and when I finished each of these, I said, “But Lent is gone!”  And as instructed, the congregation….well not everyone….jumped up and yelled back, “Easter is here!”, and they blew their horns.  I thought it was wonderful.  People laughed, as they should laugh on Easter….laugh at death, laugh at the powerlessness of their sins, laugh at the shame and guilt with which the world shackles them.

     Well, as I said, not everyone jumped up, and as it turned out, not everyone laughed.  A few kept to their seats, and a visible scowl came across their faces.  Well, as I have come to learn, not everyone will be happy with the things that I do to make the Gospel known in this world.

     Later that week, I received a letter in the mail from one who did not jump up.  “This was the worst Easter service I have ever been to,” wrote the writer.   “You owe the congregation an apology.” Actually, I was glad to receive that letter, because it told me that there was a path of communication between the writer and me, a path that I was thankful to walk on with this writer, because the writer signed their name.

     I called the writer and issued an invite to come and talk about what had been written, and the writer agreed to do so.  When the writer came to the church to talk, I said, “Thank you for coming,” and I mentioned that I didn’t think that we had had a chance to talk with one another previously, and I tried to strike up a conversation of getting to know one another better.

     “Let’s get to the letter,” was the first things that came from the writer’s lips, and the writer spoke to me of the distaste that remained from that Easter service.  “It was the worst Easter service I have ever been to,” the writer said, “and I think you owe the congregation an apology.”

     I said, “I wonder if you had seen what I had seen, you would still feel the same way.”  What I saw was a family sitting in the second row right in front of the pulpit…a family with a couple of kids.  The older one was early elementary age and for the past several years was battling an illness that required several hospitalizations.  The illness was powerful.  As it happened the child was home between treatments that Easter morning, and in my sermon when I said, “But Lent is gone!”, that child was the first one to jump up with an ear to ear smile and yell, “Easter is here!”, leading the congregation in bold horn blowing.  That is what I saw.

     When the letter writer heard what I saw, the writer responded, “Oh.  I didn’t see that.”, and the writer withdrew the request for a congregational apology.

     I thought I would relate this story to you at this time, because for me, that child’s exuberance brought the power of Easter to me like none other.  We are in a time when the darkness of the world seems very powerful…but the power of the virus….the power of the fear that it instills…the power of death that it brings….the power of the virus is the power of the world, the power of that we take an honest reading of during Lent.

      But on this Easter Sunday morning, just like we discover every Easter Sunday morning, that power is powerless against the power of God’s love. So this Sunday when you arise, and the Lenten voices of the world begin to swirl in your ears, do this:  jump out of bed, and yell, “EASTER IS HERE!”…..and if you have a horn, blow it boldly!

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger