The Bungee Cord  7-1-19

Hello,

     As I write today’s Bungee Cord, I am Denver visiting my eldest son.  I drove out here a couple of days ago with my dog, Duncan, making a couple day stop in Davenport, Iowa to visit my folks.  It has been a long ride in my car, but with my trusty dog by my side, his head in my lap….it hasn’t been too bad.

     My son, who is a graphic designer, has a never ending appetite for adventure and curiosity.  He moved out here with no job in hand, but has landed on his feet well in every way. It is always an adventure visiting him, because his creative juices are always stirring, and when we visit we find ourselves caught up in their current.  This visit coincides with the building of a tear drop camper from scratch. When he told me of his idea to do this, I mentioned to him that one can get a kit and assemble it.  No…no….build it from scratch.  And so that is what he has been doing for the last several months. 

     No kit.  No plans! Just build it from scratch.  He ordered a trailer that when it came was not built to the specifications that he had expected.  He had to do some early modifications.  Then he sat down and drew out his design, bought the wood, and started building.  Remember, he is a graphic designer, not a carpenter.  So, every cut of wood and pounded nail is a bit of an untrodden adventure.  Well, at this juncture the side walls have gone up, and we have been placing the flooring on the base.  I, too, am not a carpenter.  A pastor, I am, so I don’t offer much advice.  So, when things don’t fall quite into place as planned, I watch my son’s creative mind take on the next challenge and move on from there.  Although I am not certain, I am quite sure that when all is said and done, he will have a fine camper.  A camper that he can be proud of.   A camper that can be pulled down the road.  And a camper that fits his camping needs.

     Sometimes I hear people say that when things happen in life, it is all of God’s plan, a plan that God has well drawn out, with specifications where nails are to be pounded and cuts to be made.  As I experience the work of God in my life, I don’t see things working quite that way.  Instead, I see things working far more in the way that my son is creating his tear drop camper.  He knows what it is going to look like, and in the end, it is going to get there. Likewise, I have come to see that God knows what I am going to look like….his child….and in the end, I am going to get there. Because I shift and move, sometimes the nails get put in places that they were not intended, and cuts are made that create difficulties in the building.  But because I am the handiwork of a very adept builder, far more adept than my son or me, I am confident that in the end, I will turn out to be what my builder intends me to be, his child.

     And maybe even more important, I also have great confidence that no matter how hard the construction might be, and how much fancy work God needs to do on me, he will never come to the point of throwing up his hands, and say, “I give up.”  The reason for my confidence is the price that he has paid to build me into his child….the death of his Son, Jesus.

     So, when you feel the pain of a nail in the wrong place….or the world has sliced in a very painful and clumsy way….remember, as I do, who the builder is:  God Almighty who sent his son to die and rise in order that you and I might be his child. Remember who the builder is and know that even though the nail placement or the cut may not have been made perfectly according to some well drawn out plan, that you and I are the handiwork of a builder who makes right the wrongs so that in the end we will be exactly what he has intended us to be: his children.  Children that he is proud of.  Children who will make it down life’s road.  Children who he will be part of his incarnational adventure to change the world with his love.

     Happy camping….have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

The Bungee Cord   6-23-19

Hello,

     Miss Nicklebee, Duncan, and Me.

     We have two garage cats.  Miss Nicklebee and her buddy, Attaboy.  Attaboy is an independent male.  Miss Nicklebee is a sweet, cuddle loving lady.  We see Attaboy occasionally as he is prone to wander the countryside.  Miss Nicklebee is a homebody, serenely resting around her cat box.

     Duncan is our 12 year old Gordon Setter who has a history with Miss Nicklebee.  Ever since we got the cats three years ago, Ducan (and his 2 ½ year old Gordon Setter buddy, MacMahon) have targeted the cats, stalking them and treeing them on occasion. Once, Duncan cornered Miss Nicklebee and was about to do her in when she was rescued from the jaws of death by my wife. My wife got to her just as Duncan was about to bring her days to an end by violently shaking her.  My wife got Duncan to drop her, but when he did, she laid motionless, barely breathing.  In shock. 

     Thankfully, she recovered, but she has not forgotten Duncan’s mal-treatment.  So, when he comes around, she takes cover.

     Yesterday, as I pulled into the garage, Miss Nicklebee was calmly nestled nest to her elevated cat box, elevated for safety.  When I got out of my car, I walked over to her.  She saw me coming, and characteristically she strolled over to the edge of the table awaiting me to pick her up and pet her. Which I did.  I petted behind her ears and under her chin, and then I held her on her back and scratched her belly, which she loves.  Like chocolate, she melted in my hands, purring contently.

     And then Duncan entered the garage, and when he saw Miss Nicklebee in my arms, he froze in a catatonic hunting stance.  His eyes set upon Miss Nicklebee.  He stared at her with evil intent.  She looked over at him……

     And then calmly looked away.  I continued petting her belly, and she continued her purring, at ease in my arms.  That is when I realized something.  I realized that she had come to learn that when she was in my arms, she was safe, safe from even the most terrifying thing.  But not only did she realize she was safe, she let that knowledge take hold of her.  She was at peace.

     She was right.  She was safe in my arms.  No need to fear…not even Duncan.  I, who find myself prone to anxiety and fear, learned something that day from Miss Nicklebee. In fact, I, too, am held in the arms of one within whose embrace I am entirely safe.  Jesus Christ.  The sins that may have once had me in their jaws, have me no longer.  The stalking stare of shame and guilt is only that….a stalking stare. Even death’s drooling appetite will not be satisfied by me.  Miss Nicklebee has learned to trust me and let that trust shape her life, might I learn the same of my Lord?

     Actually, I look forward to the day when I, who am held in the safe care of Jesus’ arms, will take a glance at that which is out to devour me, and like Miss Nicklebee am completely nonplussed.   I simply roll my head back in total serenity, restart my purring, and delight in the one who cares for me and loves me.  I look forward to that day, and even confidently  anticipate it, because I figure that if a simple garage cat can learn such a thing, surely I can, too.  Lord, keep on holding me.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger 

The Bungee Cord  6-18-19

Hello,

     A study was done some years ago that looked into what people prayed for when they found themselves struggling in life, and an interesting thing was discovered.  The studiers found out that when people in developed countries ran into struggles, they generally prayed that God would take those struggles away from them. People in developing countries, when they were sinking in the quicksand of life’s struggles generally prayed that God would give them strength to make it through their struggles.  Interesting.

     This study (and I don’t remember who exactly did it) was done a good number of years ago, so I don’t know if the researchers would get the same results if the same study was done today.  My suspicion is that they would, and the reason that I say that is that in developed countries, like ours, we tend to approach everything with a “let’s fix that” sort of expectation; disease, economics, social barriers, and the like.  From my limited experience in developing countries, it seems to me that in many of these things, the strength of these things is greater than the resources to combat them, and so people ask for the strength to persevere through them, whether that be for a short time or a life time.

     As I consider the findings of this study, I find myself feeling like the folks of developing countries have caught onto the deeper reality of life, and because of that may find their answered prayers bringing more peace to their lives.  I say this because in the nearly 62 years that I have lived, it has become clear to me (hardheaded as I may be) that struggles do not go away.  Some struggles pursue us with the same face every day of our lives, and other struggles pursue us likewise, but just put on different masks as they do so.

     Christians have long heard Jesus’ words in Matthew and Luke that we call the Beatitudes.  (“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.”….and the rest.)  I know that when I was younger, I heard them with my developed country ears….waiting for peace (that is the Greek word that is translated as “blessed”) to come my when my hungers and thirsts ended.  But as my life and faith have aged, I find myself hearing them with the ears of those from undeveloped countries, finding myself blanketed in peace, now, knowing that the struggles of this life will not have their way with me because the Lord accompanies me every day of this life.  And I see the sure sign of Jesus’ strength over the struggles of life when Jesus battled every one of them on the cross and walked over every one of them when he walked out of the Easter tomb.

     I went to Africa for a month a little over a decade ago to visit Lutheran churches in Cameroon, sister churches of Lutheran Churches in South Dakota.  Although it is true, there are many of life’s struggles that we in developed countries can pin down, at least for a while, the people of Cameroon helped me see that many of life’s struggles are simply more powerful than my human hands and mind can tackle, and in the end will pin me down.  But that’s where the power of prayer comes in, the power that comes from being enfolded in the mighty and loving hands of God, hands that were nailed to the cross and hands that rolled away the Easter boulder.

     So, I pray, “God give me, and those who are reading along with me, the strength, your strength to make it through whatever this day might bring.  AMEN”

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

The Bungee Cord
6-10-19

Hello,

     This past Sunday, churches throughout the world celebrated a day called Pentecost.  Pentecost always falls 50 days after Easter, and it the anniversary of the day when the Holy Spirit fell upon the disciples after Jesus ended his earthly life by ascending into heaven.  (The story of Jesus’ ascension would be a good topic for another Bungee Cord…..where did Jesus go?)  

     Anyway, the second chapter of the book of Acts tells of the day when all of the Apostles were gathered in a Jerusalem room, when suddenly there was a great roar of a rushing wind and tongues of fire appeared over their heads.  Spontaneously, the Holy Spirit that had just come upon them, led them to begin telling about the great acts of God in languages that they had never spoken before. The people in Jerusalem, hearing the chorus of languages and voices figured that the Apostles had gotten into the wine that morning and were mumbling drunkards.

     “Oh no,” said Peter, “They aren’t drunk.  They couldn’t be.  It’s only 9:00 in the morning.”  (I have always snickered that the early time of the day was the evidence for their sobriety!)  “What you are witnessing,” he said, “was God pouring out his Spirit upon his people, just as he had promised he would do.”

     So, that is Pentecost, and red is the designated color of the day….red for the tongues of fire over the disciples’ heads.  So, in our church the altar area was clad in red, I wore a red stole, and many of the people put on their finest red garb to wear to worship.  Red.

     Pentecost is all about the power of God in our lives…..red hot power!  God’s presence is so intense in our lives that it is red hot.  So hot that not even one sin can withstand God’s singeing  heat, incinerating every one of them.  So hot that not even a mountain of doubts can create a wall to separate any one from God, engulfing them in an unstoppable wild fire of his love.  So hot that not even the most painful deeds, the longest held prejudices, or the most foolish of convictions can keep God from uniting everyone in God’s love, gathering all people together under a lava flow of his grace.  God is at work in our lives…in our world…with red hot heat.

     Of course the world keeps heating things up, too, working on us. Sometimes it can warm us up just enough to get us through a tough time, but when the next tough time comes, it may not have enough fuel.  Sometimes it can start a fire of guilt and shame that gives us third degree burns and scars us for life.  Sometimes it can produce cinders of arrogance and pride that shower down on people whose lives are dried up with failures, igniting a bon fire.

     When I look around me in the world, I see a lot of fires burning.  Some are good and helpful….some are just terrifying.  But none of them fueled with the unending grace of God, raging with God’s love and mercy, generating life out of ashes, decimating fields of hopelessness with eternal peace.  God is at work in our lives and in the world with the blazing power of the Holy Spirit, that is what Pentecost is all about.  So, when the world or my life seems to be going up in smoke….and when you watch the news or look in the mirror, it sure can look like it, I am glad that the power of God’s presence in our lives and in our world is a mightier fire….and so I pray amid the world’s fire…..Come Holy Spirit, Come!

Have a blessed week!

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

The Bungee Cord  6-4-19

Hello,

     “Have a blessed day.”  So said the young man from behind the check out counter at the liquor store to me as he handed me the bottle of whiskey that I just paid for.  It was not the phrase I was expecting to hear from that person in that place.  The young man, in his twenties would be my guess, was nicely dressed and sporting one of those stylish hair “do’s” that you see on NBA players.  I had not seen him before in this store, and I had never heard, “Have a blessed day,” spoken to me by any of the other clerks….usually, “thank you”, or “see you”, or sometimes nothing at all.  “Have a blessed day.”  

     It caught me by surprise.  I thought that I heard him say it to the two people who checked out in front of me, and so when he handed me my bag, I listened carefully…..and sure enough, “Have a blessed day.”

     When he said it, it seemed to naturally flow from his lips. It did not come across as an overly pious pronouncement with head thumping force.  Rather his words had a genuine and light feel to them that did not seem overbearing, nor, strangely enough, out of place.  I can’t say that I know for sure that his definition of “blessed” stems from my understanding of “blessed”, but by the seeming sincerity of his words, I think it to be so.  “Have a blessed day.”

     When his words fell upon my ears, I felt a connection to this young man who I had never met before.  By his words, I sensed that this young man actually cared about me….cared about me to offer words of encouragement if I was having a tough time of things, cared about me to offer words of a relationship founded on something deeper than the purchase of a bottle of whiskey, cared about me enough to see in me (who in so many ways was different than he) a person walking a common journey with him.

     There was power in that young man’s words to me, a power of blessing.  It occurred to me that you and I also have that power of blessing…..when such words naturally roll off of our lips because we see in the other one who is journeying with us, one who may be painfully stumbling along the way, and one whose relationship to us is deeper than the connections the world has to offer.  When I say at the end of the worship service, “The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit bless you now and always,”  I hope that benediction propels those who have been worshipping out into the world with divinely grace-full power.  But this I know, that when that young man in the liquor store handed me that whiskey laden bag, I felt a surge of grace as I walked toward the door.

     His words changed my day.  And listen to this…..your words can change someone’s day, too.  Change it from drab, troubled, chaotic, meaningless, burdened, lonely, miserable, dull, hopeless……to…….blessed!

Have a BLESSED week!

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

The Bungee Cord   5-28-19

Hello,

    Today, I have decided to do two dangerous things as I write this Bungee Cord.  First, I am going to write about something that happened decades ago.  Second, I am going to write about something involving sports.  So, if you weren’t around in the 80’s, and if you could care less about baseball…..well, I hope you hang in there with me.  

     Bill Buckner died today.  Bill Buckner played baseball for the Cubs when I was younger.  I remember him well.  His thick moustache, his wobbly ankles that could barely carry him to first base, and his amazing ability to hit a baseball.  For us Cub fans, Bill Buckner was a ray of sunshine in a century of cloudy to partly cloudy skies.

     Thing is, though, that most people do not remember Bill Buckner for these things.  He is most remembered (I am remember it, too, because I watched it happen) for a ground ball that went through his legs during a World Series game played in the 80’s, a game that Boston wound up losing….and eventually losing the World Series.  I remember it as if it were yesterday.  It was a soft ground ball that a fledgling Little Leaguer could have fielded with ease, and just as all the Boston fans who were watching breathed a sigh of relief for the impending out, a gasp went through the stadium and every living room as the ball trickled through Bill Buckner’s legs. And that error that happened several decades ago is the thing that Bill Buckner seems to be remembered for by most people.  I was listening to a sports radio station on the way to my weekly Pastor’s Bible study, and the announcer made note of this when he said that in every Obituary that he read, the second sentence was “former Boston Red Sox player who made a critical error in a 80’s World Series game.

     The announcer said that it was a shame that Bill Buckner’s remembrance was spotlighted on this one error, but, he said, that is the way Sports is.  Despite the courage, grit, and talent that Bill Buckner evidenced for all of his years of baseball, when his name is brought up, the first thing that people tend to say, “Oh, yeah.  I remember the ball going through his legs.”  But, agreeing with the announcer, that is the way Sports is.

     But I don’t think that Sports is the only thing to work this way, I think that life works this way, too.  Life has a way of putting a spotlight on our errors….our blunders….our failures, and it keeps the spotlight on those things through our whole life, and even when the life is gone.  The good, the grit, the courage, the talent is often recalled, but the errors and blunders are always remembered.  That is the way it is with life.

     Thank God, though, that that is not the way it is with God. The Bible tells us that God, when God thinks of us, does not focus on what we have done, instead God focuses on what God has done.  As far as the east is from the west, so are our sins in God’s eyes.  God remembers them no more, says the Bible.  Likewise the good and great things that we might want recalled at our funerals, the Apostle Paul says they are really to be considered refuse (that is a polite translation of the Greek word).  When God thinks of us, God thinks of what God has done. God sent his Son to die for each one. Each day of our lives, be it a good day or a terrible one, God looks upon each of us and says, “My Son, Jesus, died for that one.”  And on the day of each of our deaths, God will say, “My Son, Jesus, died for this one so that not even death can take this one from me.”

     Thankful that God looks upon me this way, I pray that God would give me eyes to look upon others in the same way.  The world has a way of constantly reminding me of what people have done as I look upon them.  Thank God, that God is constantly reminding me of what God has done as I look upon others…..even Bill Buckner.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

The Bungee Cord   5-20-19

Hello,

     “Have you been watching any of the PGA tournament?”, I asked a fellow pickle ball player as we were waiting our turn to return to the court.

     “Nope,” he said.  “Don’t watch any golf.  Play a little.  But don’t watch it?  How about you?”

     “Well, as far as golf goes, I watch better than I play.” We chuckled together.

     I know that many people find watching golf as exciting as watching grass grow, but I find a quiet intrigue in watching golfers hit shots that I only dream of hitting, handing the pressure of making a putt that means hundreds of thousands of dollars, and on occasion duffing a shot as badly as I do with much more regularity.  

     One of the things that amazes me when I watch golf is what happens when one of the golfers hits a ball into the crowd.  Often times the people stand there as if wack-a-moles, unaware of the projectile that has been launched their way.  It  is amazing to me that direct hits on the fly seem to be rare exceptions.  Hit or miss, when the ball comes to a rest, the crowd flocks around it forcing the security people to create a tunnel so the golfer can reach the ball.  And here’s the thing that I find most intriguing, the people actually want to be in the first row of that tunnel as the golfer prepares to hit the ball.

     I know that I would not be in the front line.  You wouldn’t have to ask me to move to the back of the crowd.  I would already be there.  The thought of standing just yards away from a hard little ball that is going to be struck with muscle-car torque is not on my list of things that seems at all wise to do. But people do it.  All the time.  It doesn’t seem to matter to them if the ball is sitting in a precarious hitting position or not.  People scramble to be in the front line, and they don’t seem to be very willing to move the line back to make the tunnel wider.

     “Ah, but the pro’s never mis-hit.”  It is true that I have never seen a person standing in the front line of a human tunnel get hit by a pro’s mis-hit ball (although I did see such a thing happen when Charles Barkley teed off, one time).  Even so, I see that person wielding a club possessing a characteristic that draws my fear.  That person is human….just like me….and humans are never perfect.  Sure, by the amount of practice and skill that a pro possesses, I would far more trust the likelihood of a pro’s accurate hit, than someone like me.  Relative trust….not ultimate trust….do I give humans.  Golfers or otherwise.

     That is where the mystery of the incarnation comes into play for me.  One of the main tenets of the Christian faith is that Jesus, although fully human, was also fully divine.  Over the centuries people have tried to make reason of this dual nature of Jesus, but when people have done that their conclusions fall short of the Biblical witness….a witness that tells me that because Jesus was fully human, I know that he understands and cares for the frustrations and pain of human life…..and a witness that tells me that because he was divine, I can trust him fully to do something about it.

     Humans can do amazing things….doctors, plumbers, government leaders, teachers, parents, friends….and I find myself putting a lot of trust in what humans can do.  But even in the best of situations, my trust is not ultimate, but relative.  My ultimate trust, I place in the one who wonderfully and mysteriously knows what the holes are like that I hit myself into and with the power of God himself, never mis-hits.

     Fore!

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger