The Bungee Cord 8-22-22

Hello,

There is a wildflower that grows in our fields called butterfly weed. To me, it is a rather undignified name for the beautiful flower it produces. I don’t know why it is dubbed a “weed”, because it doesn’t seem to be obnoxiously invasive and the flowers are quite elegant. The flower is a cluster of little orange stars, and it stands out amid the yellow golden rod, the white queen Anne’s lace and the purple New York irornweed. The plant disappears in the fall, and it sprouts much later than the rest of the wild plants in the field, but it produces its flowers just in time for the butterflies which, as the name suggests, are attracted to it.

The reason that I am writing about the butterfly weed is because the guy who mows the fields around us that belong to the original owner of the property decided to get out early this year and mow them all down a month or so ago. He chopped down to the ground all the sprouting wildflowers that would have colored the fields. So, instead of fields of white, yellow, purple and orange, this summer the fields are just brown. The chopped plants have tried to come back to life, and so the brown is mingled with green leaves. But I miss the beauty that could have been.

Last week I was out mowing our grass which butts up against the sheered fields, and as I mowed I noticed some orange flowers low to the ground. Butterfly weed. Not a lot of it, but because it is a late sprouter, some of the plants were still young enough when they were cut that they hadn’t flowered yet. Specks of beauty amid the mower ravished fields caught my eye with delight. But not only my eyes. Butterflies had spotted them too. Monarchs, Yellow and Black Swallowtails sitting on them creating the appearance of a new breed of flower of graceful, fanlike petals.

It was an image to me of what the Christian faith is meant to be in our world. The beauty of life, which God intends to bring wonder and awe to the world seems to always be the target of a rampaging mower, chopping what will be beautiful down to the ground, leaving life dull brown and full of prickly dead stems. Blades of fear, stress, anger, tragedy, sorrow and despair regularly mowing across life.

But if one looks closely, there is a beautiful flower that resiliently rises up from life’s uglied fields. A flower of hope, of peace, of forgiveness, of love, of joy. Rising up from the stem of a cross of death. Like a butterfly weed in the field, bringing beauty to the barren, catching the eyes of butterflies, and drawing them unto its flower. Ever since that first Good Friday, the world has tried to cut God’s love down and destroy it, but the world hasn’t been able to keep it from rising above the stubble of life. Like little clusters of orange stars, God’s love in Jesus Christ continues to blossom in the world through the communities of faith that bear Christ’s name. And when it blossoms in this shredded world, it catches eyes and gathers people unto it like butterflies to butterfly weed.

Let me invite you on Sunday morning to take a close look at the world around you, see the bloom of God’s love in a church nearby, and when you feel your heart drawn to it, go and delight in the beautiful grace of God that sprouts forth there.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

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 The Bungee Cord 8-16-22

Hello,

Just a week or so ago there was a story on Facebook about what happened in a Little League baseball game. It was a game between two different towns who were trying to reach the Little League World Series. As you might guess, the teams were made up of very talented 12 and 13 year old’s. Anyway, at some point in the game, a pitch got away from the pitcher and struck the batter on his helmet that covered his temple. The helmet came flying off, and the batter fell to the ground holding his head. The coaches and the medical team came rushing out to treat the batsman who was motionless. The crowd went silent, but after a while the batter was helped to his feet and shook his head a couple of times. It was determined that he was going to be all right, so the batter started walking toward first base and the opposing catcher tapped him on the shoulder, apparently to make sure the batter was ok.

Meanwhile, as all the attention was being focused on the hit batsman, no one had noticed how shook the pitcher was. He was standing on the mound trying to hold back the tears from the fears that he may have harmed the batter. When the batter reached first base, he took a look at the pitcher, and realizing how upset the pitcher was, instead of putting his helmet back on, the batter dropped his helmet and started walking toward the mound. When he reached the mound, he put his arms around the pitcher and gave him a hug. It was an amazing sight, a sight that captured the national news. The young hit batsman received nationwide applause for his kindness and sportsmanship. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jp7wNtupzSU)

But there’s more to the story. The two players were interviewed on a morning news program. As the hit batsman told the story he said that when he got to first base, he realized how torn up the pitcher was, and so he decided to walk up to the pitcher and “show him God’s love.”

To me, this event was an assurance that God is at work in this world as I recalled a verse from Isaiah that speaks about the peace that God is at work making happen,

“The wolf shall live with the lamb,

the leopard shall lie down with the kid,

the calf and the lion and the fatling together,

and a little child shall lead them.”

“And a little child shall lead them.” As I have watched adults play baseball and a batter is hit by a pitch, I have never seen a hit batsman walk to the mound and give the pitcher a reassuring hug. I have, on the other hand, seen such batters charge the mound, trying to revenge his pain. Umpires try and get in the way. Benches clear. A brawl breaks out. People get hurt. The crowd cheers with excitement. Players get thrown out of the game.

But this Spirit-led 13 year-old dropped his helmet, walked to the mound, and gave the weeping pitcher a hug to “show him God’s love”. And when his hug was finished, he nonchalantly walked back to first base. The pitcher’s teammates gathered around the pitcher, the coach came out to console the pitcher who was too torn up to continue, and the crowd applauded.

God is at work in this world, and a little child shall lead us.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

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 The Bungee Cord 8-9-22

Hello,

An interesting thing happened to me last week. Three people said to me something that I had not heard before. “I used to be Catholic, but now I am Christian.” I found myself a bit puzzled by their words as I do not believe that Catholic and Christian are mutually exclusive. I would say in math terms, one (Catholic) is a subset of the other (Christian).

If you ask folks who do not call themselves Christian, and even if you ask folks who are Christian, most will tell you that one of the most confusing things about Christianity is all the different denominations. I don’t know how many there are, but there’s a lot and the number is still growing. Why do we need denominations? Why can’t we just be Christian?

Well, in my mind we are. We are all Christians. I suppose that a far smarter person than I would have a long and intricate way of discerning who is a Christian, but for me it all boils down to anyone who follows Jesus Christ is a Christian. And the best image I find for “follower” is that of a band or an orchestra where each musician is following the conductor, Jesus. An orchestra, of course, is made up of many different instruments. Not all of the instruments are playing the same notes and not all the instruments sound the same. But when each instrument is played with exceptional skill and precision, and each instrument follows the baton of the conductor who has all the instruments scored in front of him/her, a beautiful sound is made. There’s nothing like the sound of a full orchestra rendering a beautiful piece of music.

To me, the wonder of the Christian Church is that the variety of sounds that come from the church makes room for a great variety of people making a rich, moving sound. Not everyone needs to play the trumpet, and a good thing, too, because there are times in life when a bassoon carries the tune. Of course, a musician who Is not in beat with the conductor, or who is playing a note not on the conductor’s score, or who is not playing their instrument well sours the orchestral sound. Also, an instrument that is played too soft or too long distorts the sound.

Jesus said, “take up your cross and follow me”. I don’t think it would be putting words in Jesus’ mouth to paraphrase his words by saying, “take up your instrument and follow me”, as a drum major would say to a marching band. “Follow me through the streets of life, playing a song that brings life to the world.” “Follow me with care and precision staying in tune, staying in beat, and staying in step.”

I don’t know what kind of instrument is best fit for you. Maybe you have the nimble hands to play a piccolo, or maybe you have the lungs to play the tuba, but know this, Jesus welcomes you into his orchestra/band. The more the merrier. There’s enough orchestras/bands playing music that fill the world with sounds of hate, judgment, anger, pettiness, emptiness, and gloom. The world needs an orchestra/band that plays hope, peace, joy, grace, mercy, forgiveness, and love.

So let me offer Jesus’ invitation to grab your instrument and come to a sectional practice this Sunday. Baptist, Orthodox, Catholic, Presbyterian, Episcopal, Lutheran, Methodist, Pentecostal, or whatever denomination (orchestra section) that you fit in. Come and spend an hour learning to play your instrument as well as you can, and then as we all march out into the world playing our instruments we can fill the world with the most beautiful music of all, the music that can change people’s lives: the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

“Take up your instrument and follow me.”

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

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 The Bungee Cord 8-1-22

Hello,

The other morning I was sitting on my front porch drinking my morning coffee, when I heard a very familiar sound. Peck, peck, peck, peck, peck…peck, peck, peck…peck, peck, peck, peck. The rapid fire pecking of a woodpecker. I live in the country with trees all around me, and I hear, and sometimes see, all sorts of woodpeckers doing their work in our trees. There are woodpeckers of all sizes from small downy ones to huge pileated ones.

Something that amazes me about woodpeckers is the speed at which they peck. When I hear the rate at which their bills hit the trees, I wonder, “How do they do that?” How do they manage to get their bodies to strike with such quick recovery. Their recovery rate is far faster than I can reach when trying to pound a nail in with a hammer. And it doesn’t seem to matter how hard the wood may be (oak, ash, maple, locust), the force and the speed of their pecking leaves a trail of holes in their wake. It seems like they should be knocking themselves silly as their beaks pummel the trees. How do they do it?

I imagine that the woodpeckers around me must likewise be fascinated when they see me imitating their behavior, pounding my head against the wall, and they ask one another, not, “How does he do it?”, but rather, “Why does he do it?” They, of course, do their head pounding because they are hunting for bugs and they are equipped to handle such head trauma. But me, clearly I am not after bugs and my forehead is not equipped with anything that could perforate a wall. I imagine that somewhere in the midst of their chirping and tweeting, they are laughing at me, banging my head against a wall, saying, “Why does he do it?”

I suspect that the woodpeckers are not the only ones asking that question. I suspect that God is asking the same question, too. God knows the frustrations that build up in my life like a lidded pot of water creating exploding pressure in my soul. God knows the failures that I have accumulated in my life that create a landscape of dried pine needles awaiting a spark. God knows the mud and muck that I step into that impede me from getting anywhere. God knows the anger that is building steam from the callous and careless way that people treat me. God knows…God knows all these things, and even though he knows these things, I am sure that God asks of me when I am pounding my head against the wall, “Why do you do that?”

“Why do you do that?”, God asks of me because God knows something else about me, too. God knows that I am not a woodpecker. I am not a woodpecker. What I am, and God knows this, too, is a child of God. A child of God who God has said powerfully to me and my frustrations, “I am with you always.” A child of God who God as said to me and my failures, “The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” A child of God who reaches out to me with a shepherd staff and puts me on a solid path toward green pastures and still waters. A child of God who rests me in his arms, and comes rushing home with me to celebrate having found me when I was lonely and lost. Knowing all these things about me, I am sure that God wonders of my head banging, “Why do you do that?”

Why do I do it? Because I have a way of listening to the world…the world that keeps on telling me that the only way to make my way through life is to live like a woodpecker, constantly banging my head against the wall….getting nowhere, bringing more pain to my life, and driving me silly.

But today, as I sit in the presence of God, God has broken through the bellowing of the world to say to me….and you….”You are not a woodpecker. You are a child of God.”

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

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