Snow Day

It's been a while since I've written here. This blog has floated away from my day-to-day awareness like driftwood. Returning to it stirs the sentimental in me. I remember the first several entries made one summer from my covered back deck every morning. Coffee, a bible and books, and this laptop combined to produce sentences and paragraphs. I had readers right away. Now I'm not sure anyone will read this. Snow on top of snow with the potential for ice knocking out our power is the reality today. I write this blog from my basement with a thick robe and ski hat. Still I see coffee, bibles and books, and this laptop. The passing of time is more certain than change. Some change is cosmetic. Snow teaches this. I built an igloo for Kelsie yesterday. It has a door. She fits in there nicely, but protests any Eskimo's opinion of the warmth of such a shelter. Schools are closed from here to Texas. Travel and commerce for over a third of the United States shows little potential for occurring today, tomorrow, or the next day. Snow seems in every way a transformation of reality, yet it is only snow. It is only a covering. All that was before it arrived still is. Earth (and life in the eastern half of America) is only covered and paused temporarily.

Stray thoughts:

- Yes, He (Jesus) makes our sins as white as snow (Isaiah 1:18). Remember that the whiteness of the snow is an illustration. The prophet calls his hearers to reason with God, to think. The snowy picture is a jump-start to thinking about God's forgiveness. The work of Jesus Christ is never cosmetic, personally or historically. What He covers changes status forever, unlike snow.

- Potential power outages are our problem this week. Power outages are always a problem. Welcome to the 19th century. Be careful with fire. Sometimes physical power outages cause a renewal of spiritual, emotional, and relational power. If we have to have one, let's pray to have the other.

Seasons

It is difficult to write about some things in a given platform. Were I to write about what I've been thinking lately, I suspect this tiny blog, because it is public, despite the fact that it is seldom read, would not be the appropriate place. I had a formal conversation with a respected colleague today who knows me well and knows well the details of various situations I find myself in as a church pastor. She diagnosed me as someone in transition. She did not intend for me to experience her reflections as a diagnosis. I offered the visual of a river with a slow but constant current. The current is sometimes too slow; other times it is too fast. These perceived speed differences are unrelated to the actual current. They are the result of unsteady emotions. Such emotions accompany real change. The change is the steady current. I admit that I'm in the midst of real change. I'm moving down a new river. Things that once interested me no longer do. The flames that once lit certain goals now only exist in my memories. What I once craved as success was only the idea of success. A woman last night at a church function spoke about the increased use of our new building this Easter and beyond and chirped, "Pastor John, your dream is coming true." I too quickly and too firmly retorted, "This is not my dream!" She didn't understand. I hastily buried my rude clarity under pillows of fuzz and niceness. But the truth remains: despite good ministry and a fine new building, there is nothing associated with the work God has called me to as a pastor that presently falls under the category of "dream." This is new for me and challenging, but more challenging is any attempt I've made to explain it to my wife, myself, and even God. Is this how a called person, with many of life's direction questions cancelled by vows, experiences mid-life crisis or "half-time?" As always, I find Scripture verses anchor my wavering mind. Ecclesiastes 3:1 is one of a handful of verses that talks about a season. "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven." There's also a verse I'm preaching this weekend. 2nd Timothy 4:2 commands me to "preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage—with great patience and careful instruction." No two seasons are the same. One season does little to prepare us for the next. Slowly the current of time pulls us out of one and into another. There's nothing anyone can do to stop this.

Yet I look forward to spring. Maybe I have a dream about spring. Thank God for spring.

Corners

Life sometimes feels like a series of surprises. We walk forward, turn the corner, and see something unexpected. My Caribbean cruise ended up in Newport, Rhode Island to avoid a hurricane. Sarah Palin is John McCain's running mate. The government now owns and runs Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. Unrelated to all this is the local news that Goodwill Church's building project is now funded. Hindsight sees the logic and even the predictability of changes, both in the news and in our personal lives, but living through them is always surprising. Who knows what's around the next corner? Whatever changes come can be described factually. The surprise comes in how they feel. Change is emotional. When Jesus was telling his disciples about his upcoming death, and it was days away instead of off in the future, it seems like they balked emotionally. It was supposed to be good news. He was going to "prepare a place" for us (John 14), but the feel of it was confusing. For many of us, navigating the emotions tied to change is tough. It doesn't matter if the changes are good or bad. The dialogs in John 14 and in other parts of the gospels give us clues as to how to deal with change emotionally. The disciples asked Jesus questions. We can do the same. If you struggle with change today, ask Jesus about it. With an open Bible in front of you, listen for the voice of God in the Word of God. In John 14, Jesus said, "Do not let your hearts be troubled." Change, good and bad, troubles our hearts. God knows it and comforts us with His Word.