The Bungee Cord  10-28-13

Hello,

     Saturday night as I was getting ready for bed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I noticed a small black dot resting on the side of my Adam’s apple.  I tried to flick it off, but it didn’t budge.  I gave it a couple of good scratches, and still it did not move.  I leaned closer to the mirror, and under closer examination, it looked as though it might be a lone black hair in my otherwise gray stubble beard.  But it didn’t feel like a hair.  Too crunchy.  Little hair like follicles seemed to be emanating from it….and that is when I realized that it was a tick.  It had buried its head into my skin, and what I was seeing was it’s body and legs protruding out.  Apparently it had not been there long, as it was still quite small, and it didn’t take much of a yank to pull it out.  I think I got it just moments before when I put my head on my dog, Duncan, using him as a pillow.

     They say that the ticks are going to be bad this fall, so I wasn’t surprised to find one embedding itself on my neck.  Ticks, as you know, live by sucking the blood from their unsuspecting host, ala Dracula of legendary vampire fame.  This particular tick that hoped to feast on my blood seemed to have been emulating the legendary Count by virtue of its choice of blood-drawing location.  Maybe the tick was engaging in an early Halloween stunt.

     As I said, once I realized what I was dealing with, it didn’t take much effort to free myself from this blood drawing tick, and in plenty of time before it could do me much damage.  Unfortunately, this tiny tick is not the only pest that seeks to live by sucking my blood, and thereby my life, from me.  Far more hungry and damaging are the things that I have done that have brought pain to me and others, the pressures of work and life that clamp down on me daily, the failings and failures that won’t let go of me.  Unlike that little tick seeking my blood, these things that seek my life-blood can dig themselves so deeply into me that they attach themselves to my heart with vice-like fangs, drawing the life right out of me.

     But Sunday morning an amazing thing happened.  I walked into church, as I do every Sunday morning, and someone saw the trouble I was facing.  Someone saw the blood sucking, life sucking parasites that had leeched onto my life.  Someone saw the waning strength, the darkening hope, and my labored steps.  And that someone said to me, “Take and drink.  This is my blood shed for you.”, and as I found myself kneeling at the altar, drinking in a sip of wine carrying the promised presence of Christ’s blood, something new took a hold of me and my heart: a transfusion of God grace and mercy.  In a world that had sought to bring me to my knees by sucking the life-blood right out of me, I found myself being lifted from my knees by one who gave his life for me.  Carrying a poison of divine forgiveness, this transfusion of Christ’s blood brought a deathblow to all those parasites that had come to the altar clinging to my heart, and a shot in the arm of courage and strength.

     Forecasters seem to be right.  This is going to be a severe tick season….little black ones and big invisible ones.  But thank God, there is one whose eyes sees those ticks, and when he, Jesus, sees them they don’t stand a chance, and we stand with more than a chance….we stand with the power and life of his blood.

     Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

The Bungee Cord 10-23-13

Hello,

     There are many beautiful places in this world, but among the most beautiful are the hills of Western Pennsylvania in the fall.  It is here where the green hills of summer are slowly and softly donned with a quilt patched with every shade of red, orange, gold, and brown.  Stitched to the roads, when one drives along these patches the leaves flutter to the ground like goose down from a pillow.  The sun sinks lower in the south softening the pinks and the oranges of the sunset.  The coats of the deer darken to match the drying golden rod and grasses, and the geese clear the clouds out of their way with their honking.  It is beautiful.

     But the gusting wind that snaps at your skin with a biting chill is a stark reminder that these days are soon to be taken from us.  The leaves will all be gone from the trees, and the forests will look like lifeless sticks.  The sky will darken earlier, and the sun will hide in the southern skies and the cold will rush in.  Snow will soon blanket the hills, covering what was warm earthy colors with monochromatic white.  Even the animals will virtually disappear as they take cover from the harsh conditions ahead.  There is a beauty to the hills of Western Pennsylvania in the winter, but it is not a warm and welcoming beauty.  It is a chilling and stark beauty.

     It is at this cusp of seasonal change that I am reminded of an important tenant of life and faith, and that is: enjoy the beauty while it is here.  So often I find myself anticipating the future, which in some cases surely will come with the coldness of winter, and in so doing, I rob myself of the joy of the beauty that is all around me…the beauty of the people in my life with which God has blessed me….the beauty of the peace that comes with a quiet and warm star-filled night….the beauty of my health that still propels me up steep hills as I walk my dog…the beauty of the place I work that gives me a chance to impact people’s lives with God’s love (remember, that is the Christian view of every occupation)…there is beauty all around me!

     Beauty, it seems to me, is a gift from God to be taken in and slowly savored.  It is at these times of great beauty that I get a glimpse of the wonder and grace of God, wonder and grace that the cold world tries to hide from my eyes.  And if I have savored the beauty of the wonder and grace of God, I find that the taste of that beauty lingers….lingers into the cold and harsh seasons of life…carrying the reminder of the wonder of grace that is still with me though the winds blow harsh.  It is this lingering taste of beauty that transforms the ugliness of a man, Jesus, hanging on a Calvary cross, turning that ice cold day into a day that we have named “Good Friday”.  And with lingering beauty that sticks to our bones, the clammy, musty, flesh-rotting stench of every grave is overpowered by the marching of Jesus feet on a day that we have named Easter.

     Surrounded by nearly unparelelled beauty, I am reminded to soak it in while it is here…..and reminded that when the cold weather hits, there is one who will be there …still warming me with the wonder and awe of his love and mercy….and that, too, is beautiful.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

The Bungee Cord 10-14-13

Hello,

     The first egg has arrived. Brown. Smaller than a grocer’s egg.  Kate found it in one of the laying boxes about a week ago, and since its discovery there hasn’t been another egg yet.  The egg sits in our refrigerator, and when people come to visit, it isn’t too long after their arrival that Kate asks, “Do you want to see the egg?”  No one has of yet said, “No.”

     With the arrival of our first egg, there is an innate promise of more eggs.  An egg a day per hen, so we are told.  Also, those who know about these things tell us that the size of the eggs should increase.  Four eggs a day.  Four hens.  28 eggs a week!  A virtual avalanche of eggs soon to come our way.  What will we do with all these eggs?  We will probably find more and more ways to place eggs in our diet, as will our friends.  Egg salad sandwiches….deviled eggs….eggs on salad….hard boiled eggs for lunch…egg nog to drink (there are eggs in egg nog, aren’t there?)…  Who knows what feast of eggs lies in front of us.  A promise of things to come, all held in one small egg that sits in our refrigerator.

     The Christian message finds its heart in a different arrival.  The messiah has arrived.  Brown skinned.  A simple man, smaller than the mighty rulers of the world.  Discovered in a manger by mere shepherds, along the sea shore by hard working fishermen, in towns and villages by hated tax collectors, and in an Easter garden by lowly women.  Those who know of things messianic tell us that the increase of his dominion is without end….leading to the day that “ at the name of Jesus
 every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 
¹¹ and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, 
to the glory of God the Father.”  A virtual avalanche of grace and mercy to come our way.  And what will we do with all this grace and mercy?  We will probably find more and more ways to place it in our lives and in the lives of others…grace and mercy to spur on hope when we have failed….grace and mercy to transform guilt when we have sinned….grace and mercy to bind enemies as friends…grace and mercy to feed the hungry, cloth the naked, and visit the outcast…grace and mercy to bring death to life, wipe away the tears from every eye, and have us dwell in the house of the LORD forever… Who knows what feast of grace and mercy lies in front of us.  A promise of things to come, all held in one small man named Jesus who lay in a manger, hung on a cross, rose from a tomb and is seated at the right hand of the Father.

    So, as I make my way the church doors on Sunday morning, let me ask, “Do you want to see the messiah?”  I hope you will say “yes” and follow me in!

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord 10-7-13

Hello,

     For the last week there has been a four story yellow rubber ducky floating in the river alongside the Pittsburgh skyline.  It is not an oversized practical joke.  It is “art”.  I was listening to the public radio station out of Pittsburgh the day the ducky was to paddle in Pittsburgh’s river, and they were interviewing the “artist”.  He is from a Scandinavian country, and his duckies have been landing alongside skylines throughout the world.  Pittsburgh has the distinction of being the first plopping place in the United States for this piece of artwork.  The artist in telling the artistic meaning of this towering ducky said that he believes that the rubber ducky is an international symbol of the joy of life.  “Remember the bath times you had as a child,” he said, “and how much fun it was to share your tub time with a rubber duck.”  All around the world, he said, the same thing happens.  Children sit in their bathtubs, playing with their rubber ducky, and the burdens of life get lost in the bubbles and splashes.

     I can resonate with this “artist”, because as I sit in my hot tub, I am always joined by two rubber duckies that my son gave to me as a hot tub present.  As I sit in my hot tub I watch them spin around, dancing atop the whirling water.   They “swim” wherever the jets propel them, and they don’t care where their dance takes place.  To watch them is enlightening.  It is a visual reminder of the wonderful gift of life, a gift that can be overshadowed by responsibilities, job and bosses, life’s daily struggle, and tragedy.  So, between gazing at the stars or the sunset, I splash my rubber duckies trying to steer them.  I take them under the water and wonder where they will surface.  I turn them right side up when they are swimming up side down.  And when I do these things a childhood delight sinks into my soul, and in some small way I become aware of the wonder and blessing of life…the wonder and blessing that daily comes my way that often I am not able to see…..the wonder and blessing of every breath of which not even one do I deserve… “Rubber ducky, you’re the one.  You make tubby time so much fun…”

     But there are times, real times, when a rubber ducky floating in your life falls short of addressing the pain and suffering in one’s heart, and the burden that one carries on their shoulders.  Throwing a rubber duck into your tub at those times of life works as well as saying, “Oh, it will all be okay.” or “Don’t worry.  Be happy.”  A rubber ducky might be able to cut through the gloom of daily life, but when life crumbles the power of a rubber ducky evaporates and it becomes what it really is…a bunch of rubber.

     It is at times like this that my eyes catch another symbol that often is set four or more stories high – a cross – not just any cross, of course, but the cross of Christ.  The sight of the cross takes me back to a Golgotha hill on which Jesus suffered and died, taking with him to death every thing that tries to push us through the shredder of life: our failures, our blunders, our shortcomings, our evil deeds, and  the judgment of others.  It fills my ears with a yell that spans all time and space, “It is finished.”  It sends me back to a baptismal font when Jesus staked his claim on me when I was “sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.”  It clears out the junk of my life and I see the banner that Jesus has strung across my life, “I have called you by name.  You are mine.”

     A rubber ducky may be a universal symbol of joy.  The cross is a universal symbol of hope….hope that springs eternal from a Golgotha hill and an Easter garden tomb… “Lift high the cross.  The love of Christ proclaim!”

     Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord 9-30-13

Hello,

I was just finishing locking up after worship yesterday when I heard my name being called from the landing near the doors to our educational building.  I followed the call of the voice down the stairs to find one of my parishioners standing next to a young man who had indicated to her that he needed to talk to the pastor.  The thin young man wore cut off camouflage pants, a hoodie that was printed with countless number of skulls.  His hair was dyed yellowish/blond, his fingernails were painted black, tattoos covered his arms, and he had a piercing halfway between his lip and his jaw.  He had the smell and look of showerlessness, and over his shoulder was a black backpack.

The reason he was in need of talking to me was that he had come to Greensburg to present some papers to the court in order to gain custody of a 1-year-old daughter that had been placed in the foster care system.  His buddy brought him to Greensburg, but then abandoned him, and stranding him.

These sorts of encounters are pretty commonplace for me and other pastors, and over the years I have developed some personal rules for dealing with them.  One of those rules is that we are not in a position to help people with transportation.  With limited funds we have to focus our efforts on life and death issues, like hunger.

“I am sorry,” I told the young man, “but I cannot help you with transportation.  We just don’t have the funds for that.”

“Oh, I don’t need money,” he said, “I have 20 dollars to give someone for gas to take me back home.”

“Where’s home?”  I asked.

Ready to hear “Pittsburgh”, I was surprised to hear a town of which I had never heard before.  “Where’s that?”  I asked.  Turned out it was the opposite direction from Pittsburgh, about 20 minutes east of my house.  So, I thought for a bit, and seeing it was a nice day for a ride into the mountains, I did what my rules tell me I should not do:  I told him I would give him a lift.  I never give people rides anywhere for safety concerns, but as I appraised this situation, and knowing that my wife would be travelling with us, and it was in the middle of the day…well, I decided that it might be worth the risk to help this young man out.

So, Kate jumped in the back seat of my Mini-Cooper, and he took his seat in front.  I had him sit in front for two reasons: I wanted to keep my eye on him, and I wanted to talk with him on our eastward ride.

Having dealt with thousands of folks coming off the street seeking help, I have become very skeptical of every story that I hear, this young man’s included.  But, I thought that if his story was true, I wanted to support him in his efforts….and if it wasn’t true, I hoped that he would discover that there was someone who actually cared about his station in life.  As we drove I kept the conversation going…where did he grow up?  What did he like to do?  What music did he listen to?  What was the progress in getting his daughter back?

I thought it was a good conversation.  He told me about the death of his sister, his struggle with heroin, his love of “death metal” music, his enjoyment of tattoos, his hopes for getting a job laying granite countertops, his search for a spiritual higher power (he had been raised a Catholic and it was obvious that Christianity was not the direction of his search)….on and on…45 minutes of conversation.  As we talked I knew in the back of my mind that none of what he was saying might have been true, but just in case it was I tried to engage him with caring concern.

I dropped him off at a gas station, where he said he could get a friend to pick him up.  As he got out of my car, I shook his hand and said, “God bless you.  I hope things work out for you.”  He walked away from my car, and I set my car back on the road, westward, back toward my house that I had passed 20 miles ago.  As we headed home, I said to Kate, “Well, I don’t know how much of what he said was true, but I hope that he found out that someone cared.”

Later in the afternoon, as I was relaxing in my hot tub, I thought about this young man, wondering if he taken me for a ride.  Was he laughing with his buddies about the gullible pastor who bought his story hook, line and sinker?  It all left me second-guessing my decision to give this young man a lift.

But as I considered it all, it seemed to me that such is the risk of being a Christian…the risk of being had.  I had judged rightly that he had not been a physical risk, a risk that I do not believe is worth my taking.  But I don’t know…I had risked being played for the fool…and it may have just been the case that I was.  But for the sake of showing this young man the love of Christ that was concerned about him and the life that he was living…I guess that the risk of being played the fool is just part of being captivated by Jesus’ unconditional love for me.

He may be laughing about my perceived naïveté, but maybe….just maybe….he discovered a care for him in Christ that he had never known before.  I will probably never know, but my words to him still remain true, “God bless you.  I hope things work out for you.”

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace, (ggap)

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Bungee Cord 9-22-13

Hello,

I am a graffiti artist.  I guess that I have been one for a long time, but I didn’t realize it until this morning.

On the way home from worship I passed under an overpass that I have passed under hundreds of times, never noticing what I noticed this morning.  On each of the overpass’ wide pillars were large white squares painted on them, covering up the graffiti that someone applied there.  I don’t know why I haven’t noticed them before, but maybe the thing that drew my attention to these graffiti covering boxes was the fact that I just finished a bit of my own graffiti artistry.

No less than an hour before I placed the mark of a cross on the forehead of a little girl just after she was baptized.  I admit it.  I am a graffiti artist.  My canvass is not overpass posts, building wall,  or privacy fences…..mine is the forehead.  Mostly the forehead of little children held in their parents’ arms, but every once in a while on older children and adults.  Having been splashed in simple water from the tap, and having the stake of God’s claim on them spoken amid the splash, I take my thumb and inscribe with the oil of my skin a cross….”you have been sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.”

The problem is that graffiti artist are considered to be vandals and pests.  Having spent some time in an inner-city neighborhood, I learned that the best way to discourage graffiti artists is to paint over their artwork as soon as they spray it on, which is what the city of Greensburg had done on those overpass posts.  It is based upon the theory of least resistance…..with plenty of places to display their craft, graffiti artists give up on the places that resist their work.

But not this graffiti artist.  I know that the moment that little child that bears the cross that I drew on her forehead left our church the world was fast at work to cover it up…covering it up what the world claims is important…hoping that she won’t see the claim that Jesus has made upon her…to love her, to forgive her, to walk with her, to break down the gates of death for her.

Call me a fool, a fool for Christ, but I won’t be deterred.  Every time that I will see that little girl…every time I see everyone who has been washed in the waters of Baptism, sealed with the Holy Spirit, and “marked with the cross of Christ forever” … I re-etch that cross over the world’s cover up.  I re-etch it by greeting each one with the love of Christ.  I re-etch it by marking young children with that very same cross on their foreheads when they come to the Lord’s table.  I re-etch when older children and adults come to the Lord’s Table and the cross of Jesus bleeds through.  I re-etch it when I raise my hand over a casket and ensign a cross.  I re-etch it when I hit the send button and the Bungee Cord makes its mark on you.  I won’t let the world cover up my graffiti.

The world might think that I am a pastor, but that is just my cover.  I’m really a graffiti artist with a Christ driven determination to never let the world cover the cross of Christ up.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger

Graffiti Artist in Residence, First Lutheran Church

Bungee Cord 9-16-13

Hello,

For the first time in my ministry, no one can say that I talked too long in my sermon….because I didn’t talk at all!

The Gospel reading began with the scribes and Pharisees (two groups who considered themselves pretty squeaky clean in the eyes of God) complaining that Jesus who was rubbing shoulders with tax collectors and sinners (two groups of people who were seen as filthy dirty in the eyes of God) would “welcome” them and “eat with them”.

So, let me draw your mind’s eye into the sanctuary of First Lutheran Church for yesterday’s silent sermon, the enactment of a parable that I have come up with to get at Jesus’ response to their complaints:

As the notes of “Amazing Grace” lift from the piano, I retrieve a card table that is resting in the choir loft in the front of the church, unfold its legs, and set it right in front of the altar.  On it I place a blue and white checked table cloth, put a place setting of silverware on one side, decorate it with a flower arrangement, and slide a chair under the table.  With a waiter’s towel over my folded elbow, I go over to Rocco (the worship assistant for the day) and bid him come and dine at my table, which with glowing smile he does.  After I seat him in my chair, I prepare to take his order by placing a glass of water in front of him….a glass of water that I have filled full of dirty stones before filling with water.  Looking at me with confused eyes, I motion to him to drink it.  He motions back, “No way!” 

Realizing his issue with the glass of water, I take the glass, reach into it with my hand and grab as many of the stones as I can, leaving it with about half as many stones as before.  Graciously setting it before him, he again looks at me with disbelief, still unwilling to drink it. 

So, since the customer is always right, I take the glass again, empty it of all its stones, and then drop one stone in and fill it with water.  Again, as I set it before him, he adamantly refuses to drink of it, even though I declare to him, putting up one finger, that it is only one stone.  But no.  Still he will not drink the water. 

Frustrated with his pickiness, I take the glass, dump out all the water and the one stone, and gesture a couple of spits into the glass and wipe it “clean” with my towel.  I then fill it with water, impatiently set it before him, and with equal impatience with me, still he refuses to drink from it.

So….since the customer is always right….I leave him and the glass at the table, go get a wash basin, fill it with water, put soap in it, scrub the class clean, dry it, hold it up to the light to make sure it sparkles….then I fill it with water….set the glass in front of Rocco, and he with a refreshing smile on his face drinks it down!

So was the sermon…..so is today’s Bungee Cord.

Have a great week.

God’s grace and peace,

Pastor Jerry Nuernberger