December is a month I really do enjoy. It has very little to do with Christmas. All the flash and dazzle of the holiday depresses me. Where does the Birth of our Lord fit in with tinsel and our exchange of gifts? But I do love this time, specifically December.

          I went into the ministry in 1975. I was a Youth Pastor and then an Associate Pastor and then, in 1983, I became a Pastor. That boggles my mind! That means…..I am getting old! Never mind, enough of that. Back to point. By 1989 I was a grizzled pulpit veteran of six years. I found myself becoming more and more upset with the way Christmas was being celebrated by the world as well as the folks in the church. I didn’t like all the commercialization and misdirection. So, the Sunday before Christmas that year, I boldly went where no pastor had gone before. I preached on Hell. Let it rip, too. HAH! I showed them!

          The closing song was “Silent Night.” I stood and greeted people as they went out. The words I got from the people stunned me. Have a Merry Christmas, Pastor. Looks like we will get some Christmas Eve snow! You folks going up to see the parents? What time do you folks get up for Christmas? My mind was jumbled. Were these people nuts? I had just preached a barn burner message on Hell, and it’s like they didn’t even notice.

          There was a good reason for that. They didn’t notice. Probably because they didn’t listen. I was really crushed that our people could be so sucked into worldliness!

          Fortunately, the Lord whacked me in the back of the head with a Yule log and got my attention.

          Christmas time is a time when people focus on Christmas things, just like Easter is a time people focus on Easter things. As much as I would like those things to all be sacred things, we do live in this world. The things of the world will come through and, if we watch ourselves, that is not always bad. I really enjoy seeing kids in their new Easter clothes. I like to hear the stories of what loved ones got their wives or husbands or kids for Christmas. It is OK so long as our focus is right…….

          So, the Lord took me to the woodshed a little. But, He also inspired me.

          In terms of preaching, December is a limited month. You have to spend four Sundays on the birth of Jesus and one Sunday on the coming New Year. It is just the way it is today. If you are looking for a church, don’t bother looking in December. The birth of Christ only takes a few chapters in the New Testament, although there is much in Old Testament prophecy. In December, the preacher is going to preach on the Birth. I have done so since 1983 (I have to quit saying that year. I can’t really be that old.) with the exception of the ill-fated message on Hell. There is a challenge in preaching on the same topic and still making it interesting. But it is still the same topic.

          Because of this, however, I came to a wonderful discovery.

          The Lord called me to pastor. What most people do not consider is that pastoring and preaching are two different callings. There are many wonderful preachers who are sad pastors, and many really good pastors who are poor preachers. I recognized this early on. Preaching was a struggle for me. Consequently, I struggled for years to be a better preacher. In seminary, I pursued a degree in ministry, but I read everything I could that was in the reading list for a preaching, or homiletics, degree. By the time I had my master’s in ministry I had done all the reading for a doctorate in homiletics. Marsha was the one who pushed me to go ahead and go for the doctorate, since I had done all the work already, except for some field work and the dissertation. You would think I would be a better preacher, but I am what I am.

          In all of that preparation, I came across an chapter in a book concerning something called a Planned Program of Preaching. The PPP involves sitting down and planning your preaching for a month or even three months. Scripture passage, sermon topic and maybe some thoughts. You are not preparing the sermon in advance, just putting ideas together. Then, when you get to that week, you have the Scripture and topic, all you have to do is prepare (which is the fun part). At the time I first read the chapter, I dismissed if. How can you let the Spirit lead if you program it? Never thought about it again.

          Until the week between Christmas and New Years of 1989.

          The Lord brought it to my mind while I was in prayer one morning. I resisted, He insisted, so I thought I would give it a month. I spent a lot of time in prayer that week about messages for January. By the end of the week I had a basic outline for the month. You pray about it and the Lord leads and there were four weeks of topics. Pretty cool! One of the hard things about preaching is coming up with a topic. That January there was no feeling of rush during those weeks that were heavy with pastoral duties. I already had the topics. The amazing thing was, we did have something suddenly come up that January in the church that needed to be addressed from the pulpit. The sermon that was on the PPP was exactly what was needed. What? You mean to tell me that the Holy Spirit knows what is coming and can direct my paths a month away? Un-stinking-real! As January drew to a close I looked to February and March. Again, the Lord didn’t disappoint. Having sought out the Lord and having prayed over everything, I found my messages were always on topic. It was unreal! As March wound down, I went for three months. Everything was perfect. There were weeks when I was at hospitals for various needs, when others had other kinds of problems, when I had to leave town suddenly for four or five days. In those cases, I was ready.

          When December 1990 rolled around, I was excited. I found I was already putting those messages for the first three months together in my mind. Easter was coming, and I love to preach during the Easter season. Not only that, but I had been invited to speak at Kent State University on the topic of Resurrection, so I needed to prepare for that. There would be ridicule and questions from ‘educated’ young people. I began to prepare at the beginning of December.

          One sermon led to another. The Lord was really moving! By the end of December I took stock of what the Lord had accomplished during the month. I was actually quite surprised that every Sunday during year had a topic and Scripture. No, no, no, that can’t be right, I thought. And what is this, starting in June? I had two topics and two sets of Scripture for each Sunday through the end of the year. I remembered doing that, but why? Did the Lord want me to preach two messages on those Sundays? That wouldn’t go over well at the church. Now I was a little worried. How could I prepare for a whole year in advance, and why the double messages for more than half a year? I was doing something wrong, for sure.

          But the messages were right on the money.

          When we got to May there was a small, struggling church in the community where we lived (we didn’t live in the same community as the church I pastored) that was coming into some real problems. Knowing some of the folks, because we were neighbors, I was asked to come on Wednesday evening to talk things over from a Biblical perspective. My church’s weekly Bible study was Thursday evening, so that worked well. It would only be a couple of weeks, anyway. After a couple of weeks the little church asked if I might fill the pulpit for a couple of Sundays. Of course, I was pastoring, but they offered to change their times to accommodate my Sunday schedule. From that, I was there every Sunday for the next 80 weeks. The very first Sunday of preaching that dual situation was the first Sunday I had two messages listed for a Sunday on my Planned Program of Preaching.

          Last year I didn’t do this for the first time in a long time. If you recall, last year at this time I had resigned effective in February. Marsha had left and I really didn’t think I could pastor anymore. But the Lord wouldn’t let me go and you folks wouldn’t let me go, and here I am. I have been looking forward to December so much I actually got started in November! It is like the coming year is revealed to me, at least as far as sermons go. I also can pick out the Liturgist Scripture reading for each week to go along with the messages. From that I can select the congregational songs, which will also enhance the ‘theme’ for each Sunday. A fellow pastor once told me that the PPP was stupid. It completely took the Spirit out of it. I told him that we obviously had two different S/spirits at work in our lives. His spirit was only strong enough to cover him for a week at a time. My Spirit is strong enough to give me a year! 

          Well, you might say, God has blessed you. But here is the secret. I have access to the same Spirit you have access too. Incredible things can be done, if we just let Him have His way. Not just day to day, but week to week, month to month, year to year. What a Mighty God we serve!

          I do love this month!

          Blessings.

         Don’t you just love the election cycles? Aren’t they the most fun? Candidates making all manner of claims, phone calls at your home in the evening, signs blocking traffic views at intersections. Nothing says freedom an election cycle. And the lies! Such wonderful lies from all directions. If politicians told the truth about what they intended to do and the truth about what they are doing, no one would vote for them. So, the lies have to be imaginative and bold. The following is a blurb from a candidate for president of the United States. It could be from the past, it could be from a press release for tomorrow. I am taking the person’s name out and replacing it with the words “the candidate.” If all of these people are as pure as the driven snow, as they want you to believe, you will know immediately who it is. Please let me know who you think it is by sending me their name to oldirishguy51@yahoo.com

In a typical presidential campaign, the candidate spends a lot of time holding swanky fundraisers in big cities listening to the issues that matter most to the wealthiest donors. But our campaign is different. The candidate isn’t doing those kinds of big donor events, the candidate won’t spend hours a day on the phone with them asking for big checks, and the candidate won’t take a dime from the big donors or federal lobbyists or special interest groups. Instead, the candidate is spending the candidate’s time meeting people where they are and talking with them about the issues that matter in their communities. The candidate is running the campaign the candidate wants to run — because the candidate knows that to make big changes, we’ve got to build a movement. That’s why the candidate wants to hear from you. Fill out our short questionnaire to tell the candidate what issues matter to you in your state. Your input is powerfully important.

          Don’t you want that person to be your president? Could be Republican, could be Democrat, but they care for you. The candidate wants your input. The candidate wants your personal thoughts. The candidate is going to listen to you.

          Except, we know from personal experience that every candidate says these things. We know from personal experience that if you send that questionnaire in, it is going into the trash. Or maybe recycle. We know from personal experience that our input and our thoughts are not wanted at all, just our vote. We know from personal experience that the candidate is not going to listen to us. Ever.

          Political motivations are a lot like religious motivations. In seminary there was a course of study called ‘comparative religions.’ In this course we looked at the great religions of the world and learned the basics. We had to read some of their scripture and study the principle characters of their faith. What we saw in these various religions is much of what we see in today’s politics. A bright and spotless future if you follow the faith. In politics, the candidate is a hero who is going to make everything better than ever before. In the great religions of the world, the principle characters of that faith are heroes who live their lives as shining examples of the gods they serve. But the truth is not quite as sterling.

          Personally, I would love to see politicians tell the truth. I can respect the truth. They have their faults. They are human. Just be honest with me. Don’t let the elections boil down to the lesser of two evils.

          Personally, I think that religion would have a stronger impact in our lives if we were just honest. In the comparative religions we studied we see millions and millions of people following different gods and goddesses, but only the fanatics stay true to the faith. If you look at the principle humans in their scriptures, you see people who were all but perfect. In some cases, they were perfect. Much better than the humans in our Bible.

          In Hebrews 11 we see some of the heroes of the Judeo-Christian faith. These are people listed as the truly faithful. But they just do not measure up to the characters of other faiths. Abraham followed God without question, but he also lacked the faith to believe that Sarah, his wife, could bear him a son and so he took Sarah’s servant. Jacob is listed as one of the faithful, yet he had tricked his father and stole the blessing from his brother. In fact, the name ‘Jacob’ means ‘deceiver.’ Moses is one of the greatest of the faithful, but he also committed murder. Rahab is one of the few women listed in the chapter. Her faithfulness saved some of God’s servants. But Rahab had been a prostitute. Then Gideon, who began as a coward.  Samson, who was disobedient to the Lord. Jephthah, who sacrificed his daughter. David, the great king, turned out to be a poor father and also committed murder and had an affair. When compared to other religions, our religious figures do not measure up.

          But that is OK. In fact, it is necessary. We need a Savior. We are not going to be perfect. These flawless ones in other scriptures are not real. But Abraham overcame his lack of faith, and so can I! Jacob put his life of cunning and deception behind him, and so can I! Moses, through God’s provision, got his uncontrollable anger under control, and so can I! All of these people were filled with faults, but God used them in mighty ways. And that is the point. We don’t have to be perfect; we just have to be forgiven and willing to be used for His glory.

          Don’t be fooled. There are no perfect politicians because there are no perfect people, whether religious or not. But there is a perfect God and a perfect Savior and what the Lord requires from us is faith. Rejoice in the Lord!

          There was another blog article ready to go today. Always a good thing to have it ready. Things sometimes come up and short circuit my time, so it is good to get a jump on it. But something happened and I wanted to share with you an interesting happening, at least interesting to me.

          On Thursday I was in Huntington. I needed to grab something at the grocery store and since I was in Huntington anyway, I ran into Owens. When you are in Owens you turn left upon entering and you are in the produce section. As I did so, I saw the display of flowers. For 43 years I really enjoyed surprising Marsha with flowers. I might buy them from a sidewalk vender, as in Florida. Sometimes in a store. Sometimes in a flower shop. Just to surprise her and make her smile. She was especially pleased if the flowers were in the colors of our wedding. When I spied the flowers I saw a grouping of flowers in our wedding colors. I had taken two steps toward them when it came to me that there was no reason anymore to get her flowers. She has left, gotten divorced as soon as the law allowed and remarried two weeks after that. A 43 year habit might die hard, but it has died.

          I laughed at myself. Not the sour laugh of someone who remembered something that hurt deeply. No, a laugh that was actually amusement. Does that mean I am happy about her affair and then our divorce? Not at all. It just struck me that recalling it there in Owens didn’t faze me and was actually humorous. I thought about it as I went on to find what I had gone into the store to find. I ran the time over in my mind and decided that yes, it must be about a year. I decided I would check when I got home.

          One year ago, to the day, I wrote these words in a blog; It is, as I write this, six AM on Wednesday morning, November 14, 2018. This is, altogether, the hardest morning of my life. I had thought that the morning in the hospital following my by-pass could never be eclipsed. I thought my hospital room was in an airplane and the airplane was streaking straight into the ground. But this morning is far worse. It is real, not drug induced. And, even if that other dream had been real and we would have crashed, at least it would have been over. This morning, and all the mornings too follow, will be met with the same crushing realization. This morning, at 5:30, Marsha drove out of our driveway. She has left me. No yelling, no screaming, no accusations. That is not the way we have ever done things. This was not done suddenly, but over a period of three months. Marsha’s desire, not mine, but no fussing or arguing.

          It has been a year. Wow. And I wouldn’t even have thought about it except for those flowers. It has been a year of hardship, but also of discovery. It has been a year of pain, but also small victories. Mostly, though, it has been a year of confusion as to why such a thing happened to understanding about her motivation. There is another realization here, too. I actually want everything to work out for Marsha. I don’t want God to exact retribution, I don’t want this new marriage to fall apart, I don’t want anything to go wrong with it at all. I cannot believe that God will allow her actions to go unpunished, but my prayer is that all will be fine. As for me, I have to live my life.

          Looking back over 2019, I can see the hand of God working in my life. Folks in the church have prayed for me and offered support. Friends from all phases of my life have reached out to me. Every single day I have been contacted by special friends, sometimes by several. Honestly, it is almost as though you could go to the ATM and take out money every day and it wouldn’t diminish, but rather would grow. One friend from my childhood made a joke one day about an aspect of Marsha leaving and, for the first time, I saw humor in it. It still makes me laugh. Another dear friend met me in Ohio when I went on vacation and we spent two days just talking.

          This year we have seen good things, exciting things, in the church and we have experienced the sadness some of those things have brought. But my vision has been clouded by personal and health issues. As the year of 2019 dawned I really didn’t expect to be alive at this point. My personal life was a wreck in every way. But now, a year later, I rarely think of it. I have a son and daughter in law who love me, a congregation that has been lovingly patient with me and friends I can never repay for their goodness and compassion. As I look forward, I see good things. Everything around me and all the people in my life are in God’s hands because that is where I put you all every day in prayer.

          On November 14, 2018 I stood in my driveway and wept, wondering why God had let this happen. On November 14, 2019 I have spent considerable time in prayer for various folks, I have laughed with people and I have been filled with wonder at how God has taken the darkness and turned it to day. Psalm 30:11-12--- You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, that my glory may sing Your praise and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to You forever!

          Blessings. And thank you all.

         I have a fascination with cemeteries. No, that isn’t really normal. I like to wander around and read the headstones. Here will be a little grouping of a husband, his wife and their child. Maybe 100 years old. The child might have died on the same day of birth and the mother three days later. The father twenty-five years later. That tells a story. Youngish couple, she is pregnant and has a child. The child is either stillborn or dies quickly. The mother was apparently having problems with the pregnancy and, in three days, it takes her. Because there is no second wife or other children in the grouping, I would assume the husband never remarries. Since he dies in his forties, I envision him carrying his grief for the rest of his life and dying, in his time, of a broken heart. Of course, I am probably wrong on several counts, but I like to wonder as I wander.

          Many, many hours have been spent in different cemeteries in a number of different states. Walking in the day is a joy, but walking in the night is more interesting. In Florida I encountered an armadillo. I think it is fair to say that we both screamed in our own language. On another night in the same cemetery I came across two young men standing and talking. Since the armadillo thing I had taken to carrying a flashlight. I didn’t have it on as I walked and nearly bumped into the two teens. “Who are you,” one of the young men snapped. “I pastor this church! Who are you and what are you doing in my cemetery at one in the morning?” Hey, humans I can deal with. Armadillos can scare the daylights out of me, but humans in the dark in my cemetery at one in the morning better have an excuse. “Uh, well, sir, were visiting Granny’s grave.” “Uh, yeah. Granny’s grave.” They both took off their hats folded their hands in front of their ragged jeans and looked down, as if they were in prayer. “You boys must miss her a great deal, to be out here so late.” “Oh, yes sir. It is just killing us.” I played my light over the headstone and said, “Well, I would have thought that after 75 years it would be getting a little better. Why don’t you fellas leave.” “Uh, yes sir!”

          I was at McKinley Community Church in Warren, Ohio for ten years. There were a number of small cemeteries scattered around the area. The community had originally been settled by pioneers from Connecticut. When they came to the area, they brought their own pastor, a Presbyterian minister. Many of those first settlers are buried together in a small cemetery just outside of the current city. On the pastor’s headstone, in worn letters, are the words, “Still serving my Savior.” Probably more than any headstone ever, that one really got to me.

          Working at a funeral home gave me ample time to explore cemeteries. Some of those wanderings were not good. Once a lady and I were looking for her husband’s grave, who had just been buried the day before. There was no headstone yet and his was the first grave in the new section and it was winter and a lot of snow had fallen overnight, so finding the grave was a problem. I found it by the unlucky happenstance of stepping into it. The dirt was very loose and very soaked and I sank like I had stepped into a swimming pool. I went down until my foot hit the top of the vault that the casket was in. I was seriously in some deep trouble (pun intended). Another time, with the cemetery full of people and about a foot and a half of fresh snow, I disappeared from sight because I stepped into a hole where the cemetery workers had dug out a tree a couple of days before and had not filled the hole in. I walked into the hole on one side and walked out of the hole on the other. Now that I think of it, the armadillo wasn’t so bad.

          But it is the story on the headstones that captures my imagination. I had read about the Presbyterian minister in Warren, so I knew something of him. And I have visited the graves of several presidents and other notables, but the regular folks in the regular graves……

          I didn’t realize it until I was an adult, but my mother shared the same fascination as I. She and Marsha’s mother came to Florida for my ordination. This was at the church with the cemetery with the armadillo. Mom wanted me to walk her around the cemetery and we spent several hours reading headstones. She did the same thing I had done, working up a story of the lives based on the little information on the headstone. It was surprising how close our stories were. One section was given over to a family with the somewhat unfortunate name of Butts. In this section there were the older stones from the time of burial but also a much newer stone detailing that particular family. The father, Mr. Butts, was born in the 1700s. He married a native American named Lehey. For some reason, Mom saw the Lehey and thought it was Leathery. She said Leathery Butts just wasn’t a good name. My mother didn’t have a real refined sense of humor, but when she saw it was Lehey, she got tickled at herself. Anyway, the stone said they had 18 children. Then it listed their names in their birth order. The first child and the last child had the same name. When Mom saw all the names on that stone, she said, “Well, I don’t think I have ever seen so many Butts in one place.” So, there we were, two adults standing in a cemetery laughing like a couple of loons. When we had settled down, I pointed out the same name for the first and the last. “Do you suppose they just ran out of names and started over?” She sobered quickly and explained to me that the first one probably died shortly after birth. Lehey had many more, but probably always missed the first born. So, she gave the same name to the last as a way of remembering the first. She had a whole scenario created and she was probably pretty close to the truth.

          Our time here is limited. In a hundred years someone will wander through your cemetery and observe your grave. They will not know who you were or how you lived your life. But maybe, if we are faithful, it might be that their life was affected for the Lord by someone who was affected for the Lord by someone who was affected for the Lord by someone and going back until it gets to you. Or me. We have no other more important job.

          Our pastorate at Park Street Christian Church in Geneva, Ohio was an example of all the right puzzle pieces coming together and making an awesome ministry. I pray all of you will experience that someday. But I knew that within a few years of my departure I would be mostly forgotten. I never cared about that, but I wanted to leave my stamp on the Spiritual aspect of that church so that for generations to come the Word would be preached. I asked the choir to sing a song by Steve Green, “Find Us Faithful”.

We're pilgrims on the journey
Of the narrow road
And those who've gone before us line the way
Cheering on the faithful, encouraging the weary
Their lives a stirring testament to God's sustaining grace!

CHORUS

Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
May the fire of our devotion light their way
May the footprints that we leave
Lead them to believe
And the lives we live inspire them to obey
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful

Surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses
Let us run the race not only for the prize
But as those who've gone before us
Let us leave to those behind us
The heritage of faithfulness passed on through godly lives
CHORUS
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
May the fire of our devotion light their way
May the footprints that we leave
Lead them to believe
And the lives we live inspire them to obey
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful

          The only footprint we leave behind that really has importance is the footprint that blazes the trail that leads to Christ. Just like that Presbyterian minister, “Still serving my Savior.”