The Bungee Cord 7-31-17

Hello,

     It’s not a big deal when your cell phone dies?  Is it?

     It is when you are driving to Brooklyn to visit your son, and you have no idea where you are going because you are trusting on the GPS in your cell phone to get you there.

     That is what happened last week when I was on my way from Baltimore after visiting a friend to Brooklyn to visit my son.  About 20 miles out of Baltimore my cell phone warned me that it was on its last legs.  I had been having problems with it taking a charge, a problem that was about to become a bigger problem as I was hemmed in thick traffic on I95, traffic that would be going 80mph one minute and then standing still the next.  Of course, the simple answer would be to call my son and have him guide me in….but….not only was my cell phone dead, I don’t know anyone’s telephone number….they are all in my phone’s contacts.

      I decided that my only chance was old school, so I stopped at a rest stop and dug into my trunk and found an old atlas and began looking for New York City in hopes that I could follow the map to my son’s place, whose address I had also forgotten, but whose street name was miraculously in my foggy memory.  I came upon a map of New York City, located Brooklyn and started hunting for the street…..and I couldn’t find it, apparently my map only listed the “important” streets.

     I had been to my son’s place a couple of times, so I decided that I would have to trust my memory.   I remembered that I had made a quick right exit when I had come off the bridge into Brooklyn, and with memory, I hopped back into my car and hoped for the best.  I95….I278…traverse a couple of bridges, and there I was, in Brooklyn….and…as I had remembered, there was an exit just after I got off the bridge!  Unfortunately, the buildings were not the ones that I remembered at that exit, so I thought maybe I had misremembered how close the exit was, so I proceeded to the next….which didn’t look right either.  Fearing that I may have gone too far, I decided to get off, anyway, and I wound up in a neighborhood that was clearly not the one I was looking for.  Back to the interstate….which was a bit of an adventure ….to try another exit…and another, but neither was anything close to familiar in looks.  As I hopped back onto the interstate, I found myself coming upon another bridge….uh oh…that was clearly not where I wanted to be, so I got off and decided that maybe if I just drove around, I might stumble on my son’s street.  Right!  After about an hour of blind driving…and wondering if I would ever locate my destination…and figuring that by now, my son was wondering if something had happened to me….I came upon a stopped ambulance that fortunately was not busy saving someone’s life.

     Bringing my map with me, I walked up to the ambulance and asked the medics, “Can you show me where Gold Street is?”  They couldn’t find it either, so the driver started to rattle off directions to get me there, naming streets and turns.  “I’m sorry.  I won’t be able to remember those directions.  Could you just write them down on this map?”

     “No,” he said, “I’ll just write them on a rubber glove,” and he did.  So, with rubber glove in hand, I wove my way through Brooklyn…not knowing where I was going….and a wave of peace and joy came over me when I found myself at my son’s apartment building.

     All this brought Psalm 121 to my mind.

Psalm 121
¹ I lift up my eyes to the hills—
   from where will my help come?
² My help comes from the Lord,
   who made heaven and earth. 

³ He will not let your foot be moved;
   he who keeps you will not slumber.
⁴ He who keeps Israel
   will neither slumber nor sleep. 

⁵ The Lord is your keeper;
   the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
⁶ The sun shall not strike you by day,
   nor the moon by night. 

⁷ The Lord will keep you from all evil;
   he will keep your life.
⁸ The Lord will keep
   your going out and your coming in
   from this time on and for evermore.

     This mis-adventure was a reminder to me that things human made (phones, governments, relationships, and the like) are often great and wonderful and certainly well worth having, but they are always prone to breaking, running out of steam, and letting me down.  So, as I wander through life, I am thankful that there is one upon whom I can always count on to lead me through….through times of great confusion, through times of boundless despair, through times of glaring joy, and even through the gates of death.

     As I have come to understand God, I would not say that those firefighters were divinely placed there to rescue me.  I would say that they were simply there doing their job, being the hands and feet of God in every thing that they do. (Just like all of us are.)  But I would say this: I lived through a parable akin to those Jesus told, a parable that makes it all too clear to me that to place all my trust in things made of human hands is far less wise than to trustingly place myself in the hands of God.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

The Bungee Cord 7-24-17

Hello,

     I was in Baltimore this past weekend to celebrate the 60^th birthday of a childhood friend, a birthday that I will be marking next month.  Needless to say, Baltimore life is more than minimally different from my life on top of my rural Pennsylvania hill.  So, I really didn’t know what sort of celebration I was going to be part of when I ventured to the neighborhood bar where the birthday festivities were going to be held.

     Mixed among storefronts and row houses, there on the corner was the bar.  The door of the bar was painted red, but was plastered with all manner of bumper stickers.  I walked in and found myself in a room the size of the TV lounge from my college dorm days (I don’t think TV lounges exist in dorms today where TV and internet hookups are part of every dorm room’s provision….advancement?), with the bar slicing the room in half.  There was just enough room on the patron side of the bar for stools to be placed at the bar and against the wall leaving a narrow corridor for movement.  I later found out that the interior of the bar had recently been renovated, accounting for the nicely painted walls, ceiling and unmarred bar.  In their renovation, either the owners wanted to provide a contrast for the nice/new look or they ran out of money, because the bar stools were tattered and torn, only remnants of vinyl covering the bare threads holding the foam padding in place.

     Apparently, this bar was the neighborhood gathering spot for those who called it their second home, a place where “everyone knows your name” (for young readers, as in “Cheers” of TV fame).  One of the attractions of this bar was that at the far end of the bar were two turn tables where patrons could spin records and share an evening of their music, which is what my birthday friend did once a month, and which he was doing that night to celebrate his birthday.  As my friend spun his records the bar’s patronage ebbed and flowed, many people coming up to him and concurrently wishing him a happy birthday and thanking him for his “spinning”.

     Sitting on my dilapidated bar stool watching and hearing all this happened, it occurred to me that in my 34 years of being a pastor, this was the first time that I had rendez-voused with a friend in a bar.  Being a Lutheran who finds himself aligned with the perspective of Christianity expounded by Martin Luther, there is nothing that prohibits me from frequenting a bar …. Martin Luther regularly did!  It just so happened that in the course of my ministry, bar frequenting just never found its way to my daily schedule.

     So, as I took in the sights of this “alien” place, I noticed a picture on the wall behind the bar between a couple of the mirrors and amid the bottles of liquor on display.  It was a familiar picture, one that I suspect many of you have seen, the picture of Jesus knocking on the door depicting the Bible verse, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock…”.  Except the artist’s rendition of this picture had a unique twist to it.  The door at which Jesus was knocking was the red, bumper sticker clad door of the bar.  And it suddenly occurred to me that the painter of this picture was letting it be known that this bar was regularly visited by Jesus, too.  There, in that neighborhood bar where everyone knows the other’s name, was the one who intimately knows everyone’s name.  He is there where people bring their lives, sharing the wondrous milestones of life, like a 60^th birthday celebration, and bearing burdens in which they are drowning in sorrow.

     And how is Jesus there?  He is there through people who either knowingly or not are dispensing his grace….. bar tenders, fellow patrons, and painters of pictures.  Granted, there are many things that go on in bars….and even churches….that do not bear the imprint of Jesus, but that painting that sat on that liquor filled shelf reminded me, that the work of Jesus mercy extends far beyond the confines of a church.  Indeed, Jesus calls us to join him every Sunday in church, not to be part of a hidden club, but to empower us to bring the light of divine hope to every corner of the world.

     As Jesus said, the grace of God is not meant to be a candle only lighting the interior of a bushel basket, the interior of a church.  Jesus did not die for something so small as that.   The grace of God is meant to be a candle on a lampstand that brings light to every corner of a darkness shrouded world…a workplace…a school…a home….a team….and even a bar.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

     

Bungee Cord 7-17-17

Hello,

     I was watching a baseball game on TV last week, when during a break in the play one of the announcers began talking about his grandson, whose baseball game he had gone to see.  “His team was behind 8-4, and they brought my grandson into pitch.  He held them scoreless for four innings, and when the game was over his team won, 11-4.  Let me tell you, he made his grandfather proud!”

     And what grandfather wouldn’t have been proud?  I don’t have any grandchildren, but I suspect that when a grandchild draws upon talents and skills with excellence that has come from hard work….a piano recital, a great report card, a winning soccer goal….pride just naturally erupts from a grandparent’s heart.  I’ve been there when such things have happened, and I have been tapped on the shoulder by a pride filled grandparent who unreservedly says, “That’s my grandson!”

     I don’t doubt, without anthropomorphizing God too much, that the same thing happens in the heart of God when those who bear God’s name excel…when such a one welcomes a teased child to eat lunch at her table, when such a one opens up his heart and wallet to those who have been driven from their homes, when such a one uses precious vacation time to stay with a neighbor whose health is declining so their caregiving spouse can get some rest.  I am sure that if there’s a shoulder for God to tap, when such things happen by those who bear God’s name, God proudly says, “That one’s mine!”

     But there is something different about God than the average grandfather or grandmother.  I have been to baseball games where I know that the person next to me is the grandparent of the pitcher, but that person isn’t saying anything as their grandchild walks the bases full and then walks in the winning run.  I’ve been with children in jail who just don’t seem to be able to stay out of trouble, who haven’t gotten a visit or letter from their grandparent.  Although it may not be true of every grandparent, it seems that when a grandchild blows it, can’t get their act together, or brings shame to the family name, there isn’t a lot of shoulder tapping, pridefully claiming their grandchild.  More often than not, there’s silence, and sometimes there is pure rejection.

     But that’s the difference with God.  When one who bears God’s name blows it to the point that the world is ready to cast that one out, God steps forward and says without shame, “This one is mine!”  When one who bears God’s name wanders and strays into trouble and danger over and over again to the point that people’s patience has worn out, God steps forward and with shepherds arms picks that one up and says, “This one is mine!”  And when one who bears God’s name makes a fool of themselves and the whole world is laughing at them, God steps forward and says with uncompromising force, “This one is mine!”

     How do I know this to be true of God?  That is what Jesus is all about.  As Jesus said, Jesus came to redeem sinners…to lift up those who had been beaten down….to be the physician to those who were sick…to say in a way that has echoed from the cross of all who the world has cast off, laughed at and given up on, “This one is mine.”

     “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God.  And that is what we are.” (1 John 3:1)

     That is what we are when we excel…..and that is what we are when we absolutely blow it.  That is the kind of God we have.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger