December 6, 2003 Edible Art
October 5, 2003 To survive the longing pain
September 28, 2003 Sweet and spicy ways to love each other
September 8, 2003 The best laid plans
September 3, 2003 Enlisting a Congressman’s aide to help our global village practice the peace of Jesus
August 14, 2003 It takes a village (or two) to make a wedding
July 26, 2003 Ripe with Grandparents
July 22, 2003 Husbanding and splendor
July 12, 2003 What did Sarah and I do right?
July 1, 2003 Following two-year-old leaders
June 15, 2003 Hiding and other ways of ebbing
June 10, 2003 Oddballs doing beautiful things
May 31, 2003 What God formed you to love to do
May 20, 2003 What you hate to do and what you love to do
May 11, 2003 Tornadoes, socializing at Plow Creek and Japanese management decision-making
May 4, 2003 Plow Creek in each of our hands
April.27, 2003 Spilled coffee and other ways to forget God’s love
April 20, 2003 More lessons from a sore back
March 23, 2003 What President Bush, Saddam Hussein, and Osama bin Laden believe
March 16, 2003 Faithful in three little words
March 9, 2003 Marvin, Jesus and me
March 4, 2003 The risky business of prayer
February 25, 2003 Does the truth set you free?
February 16, 2003 Pentecostal peace roots
February 9, 2003 Looking for smiles
January 26, 2003 What if all Christians became pacifists?
January 12, 2003 How good it is to be divinely surprised
January 5, 2003 Room for a cheerful old bird
Letters from 2002
Coming home
from adventures
Dear folks,
I’ve been
thinking about coming home from adventures.
Tutuk came home from
Then on Tuesday I’m meeting
Jim Fitz at O’Hare to bring him home from his three months in
I’ve been
thinking about adventures and homecomings because while I was on
retreat at Reba earlier this week I meditated on Psalm 107:23-32.
“Others went
out on the sea in ships; they were merchants on the mighty waters,” it
begins.
When we go on
an adventure with the Lord we see him do deep things and we run into
storms so fierce that we reel and stagger “like drunken men.”
“Then they cried out to the LORD in
their
trouble,
and he brought them out of their distress.”
When I talk to Tutuk and Jim
I’ll be listening for the storms, their cries to the Lord, and when
they felt the stillness, hush, and peace of God’s answering presence.
“Let them exalt him in the assembly of
the
people
and praise him in the council of the elders.”
There is
something about going out to the sea to do God’s business, on a
terrible and wonderful adventure, and then coming home to tell
God’s people about it.
Blessings, Rich
Dear folks,
“Edible art…”
I overheard that phrase on
Saturday morning in a group talking about “Art and Articulation: Giving
voice, color, shape, words, etc. to our faith in Jesus.”
The group emerged out of an
Open Space session at the common building on the theme “Improving our
life together from A-Z, common meals to dirty chimneys.”
Edible art.
When I hear that phrase I
think of Boo who shares with the community incredible cake creations
like my surprise 50th birthday cake at a common lunch
complete with a 35 mm camera rising out of the rich chocolate cake. And
a circle of children gathering around my table laughing as the candles
flared again each time I tried to blow them out.
Edible art.
The Estonian delicacies Anni
prepared for our common lunch feast last Easter.
Edible art.
Common meal last Friday night
cooked by Boo and Meg. Someone filled a white bowl for me with a thick,
pale red, navy bean chili. I looked around for hot sauce to spice it up
and didn’t see any. Then I tasted it. Ah,
substantial, with the exact level of exquisite spicy heat my palate
yearns for. On the side tasty corn bread and liberal slices of squash.
Dessert. White cake, left over
chocolate cake, a fruit dish made out of raspberries, strawberries,
blueberries from the farm and a luscious bowl of whipped cream to top
the desserts.
Edible art. What a great part
of community life. What a great way to be with each other and love each
other.
Blessings, Rich
Celebrating our
bodies
Dear folks,
The summer after my sophomore
year of college I went to
I turned to glance at the
person and realized it was my reflection in a store front window. Six
foot, one inch tall, 132 pounds, and was ravaged by rheumatoid
arthritis, I will never forget how sick I felt that I didn’t even
recognize myself.
Bodies. They sure can be a
pain.
And yet God gave each one of
us our body. As the psalmist said, “He formed us in the womb.”
Tonight I spent a little while
at the old time dance in honor of Ed Benner’s birthday. I can’t dance
but I couldn’t help but celebrate the many and varied bodies of the
dancers.
Tiny five-year-old Anna Zehr
dancing with tall, eighteen-year-old Rachel.
Twelve-year-old Martin trying
out his growing strength on his mother as they twirled.
Meg and Jim do-se-doing
through the line, Jim’s eyes glowing above that grand beard that’s part
of the National
Beard Registry.
Gabrian, too young to dance,
standing beside me, hanging on to my wheelchair handle bar, and
bouncing and bouncing in rhythm to the music.
I bobbed my head up and down
as Gabrian and I made up our own dance.
The room was full of smiles
for the sheer joy of so many bodies in motion.
When Sarah stopped by the
musicians to wish fiddler Ed a happy 50th birthday, he
beamed.
As well he should. A birthday
is a great occasion for a group of people together in a room with old
time music and a caller to celebrate God’s gift of our many and varied
bodies.
Blessings, Rich
Ps. I’ll be on vacation for a
couple of weeks. The Lord bless you, keep you, and dance with you.
A slow, gentle
God
A year ago my mother-in-law
sent me a letter that included an apology for something she had said to
me over ten years earlier.
God is a gentle God and a
friend of time.
In our day and age speed is
greatly admired. Fast cars, fast athletes, and fast companies.
Overnight delivery to anywhere in the
As the followers of Jesus of
Nazareth we do well to be a friend of time. After all he took nearly
thirty years before he began his ministry.
In 1990 Sarah told her mother
that she had been abused by her step-father. Sarah’s mother did not
believe it and broke off her relationship with our family.
I loved my mother-in-law and
often counted myself a blessed man to have such a good mother-in-law.
Now she was breaking Sarah’s heart and my kids’ hearts. I cried out for
restoration, fast reconciliation.
It was not to be. I had to
learn that God is a gentle God and to be gentle like him I had to be a
friend of time.
I am an action man and I kept
coming up with plans to try to reach out to Sarah’s mother. Wisely,
Sarah kept vetoing them.
I admire Sarah so much for her
faithfulness as a daughter during the decade that we almost never saw
her mother. Sarah never treated her mother unkindly.
And Sarah faithfully followed
the healing path the Lord laid out before her to overcome the terrors
of her childhood. She was a true friend of time.
In the spring of 1994 we got a
call from Sarah’s mother. She said that she was on the way for her
funeral and asked to meet us in the Princeton Comfort Inn. We were
bewildered. What did she mean, she was coming for her funeral? Was she
dying?
Once we were at the Comfort
Inn, she told us that she wanted to see us one more time before she
died. She did not have a fatal illness but she was getting up in years
and we would not be welcome at her funeral so she wanted to have one
more conversation with us.
We talked for three hours. It
was a frank, open, and on her part, occasionally heated, discussion.
She was convinced that Sarah had been duped by her therapists into
believing false memories.
Towards the end of the evening
I said to Sarah’s mother, “Jean, we will love you no matter what.”
“I don’t care,” she said.
In the fall of 2001 when
Sarah’s healing was nearly complete, her aunt, her mother’s sister
died. Sarah went to the funeral, driving by herself to
Before the funeral and again
after the funeral her youngest brother clung to Sarah sobbing as he
remembered his own trauma as a child.
As Jean watched Sarah comfort
her brother her heart softened. While Jean still says that she does not
believe Sarah was abused she reconnected with our family and we have
seen her numerous times since.
Last fall Jean sent me a
letter, recounting the incident in the Comfort Inn when I told her that
we would love her no matter what. I had forgotten the incident but I
remembered it as I read her letter.
In the letter she said, “That
wasn’t very nice of me.” She apologized and asked for forgiveness.
Tears flowed down my eyes as I
read the letter, marveling at our, slow, gentle God at work.
Blessings, Rich
Belonging
Dear folks,
Often I come away from my
morning time with the Lord with a word or phrase for the day, sort of
like a mug of artesian water to sip through the day.
Yesterday morning the phrase
was, “Belong to me and belong to my people.”
For most of the last week I
have been semi-sick. I’m not sure what is going on but I am checking
with my doctors. So I have spent a lot of time alone the past week,
resting, trying to recover.
I like the idea of belonging
to God. I can do that by myself even when I am sick. Remember Michele
Cutts. For 18-months she knew she was going to die and a lot of that
time she spent alone belonging to God. By the time she had to be moved
to a nursing home for her last few days she belonged to God so much
that the nursing home staff gravitated to her room just to be close to
her. They were surprised that they liked to be with a dying person. I
am not surprised. She had been practicing belonging to God.
As I stood up from my quiet
time chair I was feeling a little sad. It’s a little harder to practice
belonging to God’s people when you are alone.
I looked out the window and
saw David’s truck over by common building. Maybe I ought to go visit
him in his office, I thought. But it seemed like a lot of effort.
I went into my office to get
some work done. A little while later David came over to our house to do
a little repair work. When he sat down in my office and we began
visiting I knew I was experiencing God and David’s kindness.
Fifteen minutes later when
David left my office I breathed, “Yes, Lord, I belong to you and I
belong to your people.”
Go Cubs.
Blessings, Rich
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To survive the longing pain October 5, 2003
Dear folks,The last two Sundays I taught on friendship. Jesus said, “You are my friends…love each other One way I love people is to write letters, hence, these letters to you. Eleven months ago Anni Moore, an immigrant from Estonia, moved to Plow Creek with her husband, Jeff, and three young daughters. I was touched when Anni responded to one of my recent letters with a letter of her own. With her permission, I quote the following reflection on my first teaching on friendship:
Your point
that it takes quite a long time to develop a friendship was like light,
like
something I have known all the time, but somehow forgotten. (It's like
walking in the dark, on the road you kind of know, but the flashlight
would really be helpful to see what exactly are you stepping into). All
the good friends I have are still in Estonia - either the ones I went
to school with or from the choir I sang in for six years. Now all those
have become the long distance relationships, and to survive the longing
pain, I must somehow learn how to make new ones. I think that was one
reason God sent me to Plow Creek. I had almost forgotten how it felt to
be surrounded with so much love and care.
We are a
global village
practicing the peace of Jesus. Friendships are part of the peace of
Jesus. This morning I taught the adults for half an hour, and then had
people break up into groups of three to share how they are doing on the
continuum from being friendless to being full of friends.
The groups talked and then prayed for each others friendship needs.
It’s not only
Anni, I suspect, but many of us who have a longing pain because we are
no longer close
to friends who have been a gift from the Lord earlier in our lives.
Jesus said to his students, turned friends, “ You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit--fruit that will last.”**
What an amazing idea. Jesus has chosen us and appointed us to bear fruit that will last through our friendships.
Blessings,
Rich
Sweet
and spicy ways to love each other
September 28, 2003
Dear folks,
A new
commandment I give you,
Love each other. Jesus.
On Friday as I
headed out the
door to swim Sarah offered me a brownie she had baked earlier in the
day. I said no since I knew we were having a pot luck common meal that
night.
But as I swam
I recalled her
offer and thought, “She loves me.”
Ah, the quiet,
little ways
that we get to carry out Jesus’ new commandment.
Rick felled a
tree on the roof
of the common building yesterday in the morning. Oops. Time for lovin’
each other. Richard, Steve, Rick, Mark and perhaps others worked
through the afternoon to repair the roof. They loved each other and us.
Boo bought and
Martin put
together the granny swing by the
Anni made
cheese rolls and
raspberry cream cheese croissants for Sunday lunch. She loves us.
Martin brought
me hot sauce
from the fridge at the potluck on Friday night.
Food--what a
sweet (and even
spicy) way to love each other.
Lyn Fitz hosts
children each
week in her home. She loves’em (and their parents too).
Steve put
together the network
that gives each of us Internet access through a satellite. He loves us.
Jesus gives us this place and these friends. He loves us lovin' each other.
Blessings,
Rich
An
outburst of
weakness
Last Monday I
prayed a
dangerous prayer. I asked God to teach me so that I could teach his
people on Sunday.
I was planning
to teach on the
“thorn in the flesh” passage in II Corinthians. Three times Paul prayed
for the removal of the thorn that was torturing him.
Instead of
removing his
weakness God said to Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my
power is made perfect in your weakness.”
On Sunday
morning just before
we headed over for worship I lost it. Sarah offered a relatively
innocuous opinion on something I was working on. I thundered, “I am so
frustrated!” Startled by my anger, I bit my tongue but it was too late.
“Must you have
an outburst
just before worship?” she said.
I hastily
apologized and,
feeling miserable, I joined her at worship.
When it came
time to teach I
realized I could hide that I am a hypocrite, or I could admit it. I
chose the admission route and began my teaching by telling how I had
blown it with Sarah before coming to worship.
I was
obviously weak. Now how
was the Lord’s power going to be made perfect in my weakness?
It’s easy for
me to understand
God’s grace being sufficient. I prayed a lot more than three times in
my late teens and early 20’s for God to remove the thorn in my
flesh—rheumatoid arthritis.
And his grace
has been more
than sufficient. I
don’t know a single person who lives as wonderful a life as me. No, I
am not losing touch with reality!
I truly
believe that I live an
amazing life. He
has given me an incredible wife (yes, even when she has to ask me if I
must have an outburst), a mutual admiration society of three children,
and now two awesome sons-in-law.
And he has
given me Plow
Creek—a people and place where I have been rooted and grounded in his
love for 26 years. His grace has been more than sufficient.
I have a
harder time
understanding that God’s power is made perfect in our weakness.
So I asked the people to break up into groups of 3-4 and share about:
- How has grace been sufficient
for you in your weakness?
- How has God’s power been made
perfect in your weakness?
Then I brought everyone back together and asked them to teach me about God’s power being made perfect in our weakness. Here is what they taught me:
None
of us likes to be weak…
Weakness opens us up to the power of God because in our weakness we
know we can’t do it in our own strength.
The
Lord does his work
perfectly.
He could have said, “My power is made perfect in subtle acts, in small things.”
When
you admit you have weaknesses, others are able to admit their
weaknesses…and that’s
powerful.
When
you hear a preacher admit his weaknesses, God’s power gets turned on to
hear the Word.
God gave me
some good teachers
this morning.
Blessings, Rich
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The
best laid
plans
Dear folks,
After going to
Fay Johnson’s
funeral in
I’ve been
thinking about
Joseph, Mary, and Jesus’ journeys to
The alternator
belt broke, the
car died, and as Sarah wrestled the powerless steering wheel, steam
smelling of antifreeze rolled into the car through heating and air
conditioning vents. She got us to the side of I-94.
While she was
on the phone to
AAA a hay farmer, Jim Mosley, stopped and offered to fix it with an
alternator belt.
Jim also
builds race cars, he
told us as we roared down I-94 in his old red pick-up. I thought he was
our guardian angel sent to fix our car on a Sunday.
He dropped us
off at
McDonald’s in Osseo, Wisconsin, drove back to Eau Claire, got a belt
and antifreeze, fixed our car on his way back to Osseo, picked us up,
and brought us back to the car. We thanked him, gave him $70, thanked
the Lord, and drove on.
We planned on
being home by
At first we
thought the car
was drying off when steam came out of the air conditioning vents. When
the steam kept coming we turned off the air conditioning. The steam
quit coming out of the vents. But a little while later the car seemed
hotter. We stopped in Tomah and a little steam came out the defrost
vent and put a spot of steam on the window.
I called Rick.
What a gift to
have a brother to call with when you are six hours from home and our
car is doing strange things.
I described
the first
breakdown and the current symptoms. Should we keep driving or stop and
get it checked out?
“Get it
checked out,” he said.
“It could be that when the belt broke it put a hole in the radiator. Or
it
might be your water pump.”
We checked
into a Comfort Inn.
Mary and Joseph checked into a barn.
This morning a
mechanic at
Ralph’s found a hole in the heater core that had leaked a gallon of
antifreeze between Osseo and Tomah. Rick is a wise man. Ralph’s can get
a replacement heater core by Tuesday morning and have it installed by
Tuesday at
At least
that’s the plan.
I left the car
at Ralph’s and
drove my wheelchair 2.5 miles back to the Comfort Inn where I sit at a
desk and write you.
God sent his
son Jesus to save
us. At least that was the long range plan. Soon after he was born his
parents escaped to
As I sit in
the Comfort Inn in
Blessings, Rich
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Enlisting a Congressman’s aide to help our global village practice the peace of Jesus September 3, 2003
Dear folks,
I didn’t know how tired I would be after having two daughters get married this summer.
You haven’t had a letter from me for 20 days—that would be two days before Heidi’s wedding.
Last Thursday Erin Kindy, Jim Fitz, Jon and I went to our Congressman’s office to meet with the aide who works with international travel. We went in hopes of getting a letter of support from our Republican Congressman to be included with Erin and Jim’s application for visas to Colombia to work with Christian Peacemaker Teams. They are submitting their applications next Monday.
I love doing the Lord’s work with Plow Creek people.
On the hour and 45 minute drive we chatted about this and that until Erin or Jim said, “Let’s plan the points that we want to make.” Within a few minutes we hashed out who was going to make which point and in what order.
When we arrived we were ushered into the office of a woman who wore a dark blue business suit designed to look like a military officer uniform complete with shoulder braids.
After introductions I said that I had been looking forward to connecting with Congressman Weller’s office since we were moved into his district through redistricting. Our church’s mission, I told her, is to be a global village practicing the peace of Jesus. I want to establish an ongoing relationship with her, I said, since we may need her help from time to time to carry our mission. We not only send people overseas such as Erin and Jim but we also may need her help when we have visitors from overseas.
We do need to practice peace, she acknowledged
Then Erin gave her a brief description of CPT’s work in violence reduction and accompanying civilians in conflicts in Hebron, Colombia, Iraq and a First Nation in Canada. She was friendly with Erin who had been in phone contact with her several times as they worked together trying to get Erin a visa to Colombia. Erin gave her a CPT newsletter.
She said that she and her husband adopted a daughter from China so she knew what a challenge it occasionally could be to work with officials from other countries.
Then Jim described how CPT’s work in Colombia has made it possible for the people of one village to return to their village after having been forced to flee by armed groups including guerrillas, paramilitaries and the Colombian army.
The fact that the CPT is in Colombia at the invitation of the Colombian Mennonite Church sparked her interest.
Without CPT’s aide, Jim said, the villagers would be forced to move to a city and live in slum-like conditions, he said.
More than once she commented that Colombia is a troubled situation.
Jim handed her a copy (and an English translation) of a letter from the villagers expressing their appreciation for CPT making it possible for them to live in their village.
When he pointed out the full page of the names of the villagers who had signed the letter, I got goose bumps.
“We’ll get you there,” the aide said. And promised letters of support for both Jim and Erin’s visa applications.
Jim offered to put her on his e-mail list to receive his updates when he is in Colombia. She gave him her e-mail address and said she would look forward to his e-mails.
After we left the office we dropped Jim off on Highway 52 where he hitchhiked toward home to talk to people about peace. Erin and I drove Jon to downtown Chicago where he got a ride back to College.
Erin wondered whether she would be offended when she read about CPT’s opposition to the Iraq war in the newsletter.
I loved working with Erin and Jim. We did our part. Now we trust the Lord who works with nations. Oh, yes, Jim hitchhiked about forty miles, caught four rides, and talked to people about peace.
Blessings, Rich
P.S. I just called Jim and Congressman Weller’s letter of support came in the mail today. Thank you, Lord.
It takes a village (or two) to make a wedding August 14, 2003
Dear folks,
Several year’s ago Hillary Clinton used an African proverb as the title of a book she wrote: It takes a village to raise a child.
Around the same time Heidi told me that she sensed that she was called to be a nurse in Africa. All I could think was: Africa is so far away. What I said was, “Since you are taking Spanish in school, maybe you should consider Latin America.” I was thinking, Latin America is closer.
“No, she said with her inimitable, gentle certainty, “No, I think it’s Africa.”
I hid this in my heart.
But not before thinking, “Lord, if you are calling her to Africa, I sure hope you give her a good husband to go with her to Africa.”
Now Heidi is getting married to Woju in two days. I can’t help but smile as I think, “Lord, I never thought of this good husband I wanted to go with her as an Ethiopian but what a good idea.”
For the last few weeks two villages have been hard at work preparing for the wedding. When Woju’s parents arrived three weeks ago they gathered their family and Ethiopian friends in the USA around to begin to plan for the wedding.
And at Plow Creek, our little global village practicing the peace of Jesus, Lyn Fitz has taken the lead in helping us prepare to host the wedding and many wedding guests.
This morning I was near tears of gratitude in my quiet time as I thought about all the Plow Creek people who are helping with the wedding, many more than I know and doing more tasks that I may ever know.
When we moved here in 1977, we hoped this would be a good place to raise our children. We had never heard the African proverb, it takes a village to grow a child, but we instinctively knew this was true.
Now we know it takes two villages to raise a wedding.
Blessings,
Rich
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Ripe with grandparents July 26, 2003
Dear folks,
A couple weeks ago Sarah and I had a picnic with a couple in their 20’s who were visiting Plow Creek because they are interested in community. During the meal Sarah said that joining community is like being married to 30 people.
Over the years I’ve often heard Plow Creek people say the same thing. I’ve always felt a little uncomfortable with the analogy of community to marriage. The analogy does have its strengths because we share our finances, make decisions together like a married couple, and love one another over a long period of time. The analogy has its weaknesses too because we don’t share sex, child-rearing decisions, or see it as a divorce when God calls members elsewhere.
I went on a two-day retreat at Reba this week. The Lord uses these times to correct and encourage me.
For the last couple of years the Lord seems to have called me to call Plow Creek Fellowship to welcome the next generation. Current members, in our 40’s through 70’s, have talked for a couple of years about welcoming the next generation, people in their 20’s and 30’s.
During my retreat I asked the Lord, “How can I grow to welcome the next generation to Plow Creek?” Here’s the conversation that followed:
Wow.Rich, the next generation is entering and growing in the church.
Jesus, do you want the Fellowship to die?
I want it to shed some leaves and dead branches to enrich the soil.
What part of me needs to die to enrich the soil?
Your fear that old members at Plow Creek will keep new members out.
But lots of folks seem to want to keep new members out.
Die to your fear of this dynamic. If you do not die to your fear, you will threaten the old timers and they will harden their hearts against you.
I think I am seeing old timers as brick walls that will refuse to budge for newcomers.
Richard, each of the people currently at PCF is one of my people. I have given each incredible gifts to share with the next generation. Each has the gift of the grandparent. Grandparents turn the hard work of raising a family over to their children. Parents do the day to day decision-making while grandparents love and bless both the parents and the grandchildren. PCF is ripe with the gift of grandparents.
Blessings,
Rich
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Husbanding and splendor July 22, 2003
Dear folks,
For several weeks I’ve been pondering that strange and lovely passage, Ephesians 5:25-33 that begins: “Husbands love your wives, just as Christ loved the church, and gave himself up for her.”
On Sunday morning I woke up at my parents’ home looking forward to a romantic interlude with Sarah who was five hours away at her mother’s. We had been apart for a couple of days while I went to my brother’s wedding and Sarah visited with her family. We were to be reunited for a night at her mother’s before driving back to Plow Creek the next day.
Christ gave himself up for the church, according to Paul, in order to make her holy by “cleansing her with the washing of water by the word.”
Arriving at Sarah’s mother’s small apartment crowded with relatives, I entered into the visiting. Soon Sarah pressed a glass of cold water against her head, saying she had a headache; not good sign for my dreams of a romantic reunion.
Paul points out that Christ giving himself up and the washing the church in water of the word made it possible for Christ to “present the church to himself in splendor…”
Later Sarah whispered to me that she was feeling nauseated. After the last of her relatives left she lay down in the bedroom. (But not before hurrying downstairs with her mother to move our car because I had parked in a handicapped parking zone that, as it turned out, was reserved for one of the residents of the apartment building.)
“In the same way, husbands should love their wives as their own bodies,” Paul says.
Sarah has a bad headache and is nauseated; Lord, help me to give myself up for her.
When she threw up, her mother rushed in bringing her a wet cloth, tissues, and then water to rinse out her mouth.
We’ve been married 29 years and I know a little of what Sarah likes. After she had rinsed out her mouth I said, “Sarah, would you like me to go down to the car and get you some gum?”
“There’s gum in the front lower pocket of my purse,” she said. I found it and gave her a piece.
“Oh, that helps so much,” she said and fell into a healing sleep for the night. As we traveled home the next day, she recovered fully.
Giving Sarah a stick of gum to cleanse her mouth after she threw up was not the romantic interlude I had in mind, but it was one of those moments of giving myself up for her that prepares both of us for the splendor I did have in mind.
Husbands, how have you given yourself up for your wife this week?
Blessings,
Rich
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What did Sarah and I do right? July 12, 2003
Dear folks,
In June our daughter Hannah married Donny Hackworth, an African-American, and in August our daughter, Heidi, will marry Woju Worabo, an Ethiopian. I can’t help but ask: what did Sarah and I do right?
How did we raise two daughters able to attract such handsome, kind, trustworthy, talented and disciplined Christian men?
Both Donny and Woju looked beyond color and culture to find their spouses. Of course, the same is true for Hannah and Heidi. How did we raise Hannah and Heidi to be look beyond borders to the heart?
Partly I think it’s because of Sarah and me. When Sarah chose me I had been disabled with rheumatoid arthritis for four years. When I chose Sarah she came from a family with a history of domestic violence that had moved 21 times in her first 18 years of life. While we were both the same color and culture others could have looked at us and said, “What a couple of lemons.”
But Sarah and I were able to look beyond each other’s lemon-like qualities to see a kind, good heart in the other. And together the Lord has helped us to make 29 years of great lemonade.
What else did we do right?
We raised our kids at Plow Creek. Recently Heidi told me that she and Woju both felt different as they grew up. Heidi had lots of friends at school but she always knew she was different because she grew up at Plow Creek. Woju’s father came from one of the smallest rural tribes in Ethiopia and consequently Woju, who grew up in the city, had a strange name. His friends and teachers found it hard to pronounce. Woju felt different “but I always felt special,” he said.
Plow Creek’s mission is to be a global village practicing the peace of Jesus. Although we put those words together a couple of years ago after Hannah and Heidi had left home, I think that mission had its roots in our founding in 1971.
In some sense, Hannah and Heidi grew up in a global village practicing the peace of Jesus and they continue to live out the mission they grew up with.
And their men, although they didn’t grow up at Plow Creek, have the same mission.
Blessings,
Rich
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Following two-year-old leaders July 1, 2003
Dear folks,
I like following good leaders even when they are two-year-olds.
On Sunday Sarah and I were in charge of the youngest during the Sunday school hour. When we left the Common Building Chris Begly and Margaret Moore stepped onto my wheelchair for a ride.
Half a block into the ride Chris said with concern in his voice, “Where’s June?” I turned the chair around and we looked for June. Sarah was with June, a two-year-old guest, who was crying because she wanted her Grandpa.
Kind-hearted Chris was right in not wanting to leave June behind. I followed his heart and we rolled back the way we had come. As we approached Chris said, “Hi, June,” and waved to her.
I invited June to go for a ride. “No,” she said emphatically, not interested in following my lead at all. She wanted her Grandpa but he was teaching the adults so he took June to be with her Grandma.
Margaret, Chris and I went on a journey, past the grape arbor, past the Alpha House where Margaret lives, around the circle. Sarah had crackers for us when we arrived at the picnic tables.
Margaret began to sing, “Jesus loves me…” I was so excited. I can worship with a two-year-old, I thought. I sang the whole song and not once did Chris or Margaret tell me I was off key.
What fun to follow two-year-olds being good leaders.
Blessings, Rich
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Hiding and other ways of ebbing
June 15, 2003
Dear folks,
I liked Mark’s children story this morning, Alfalfa, [Mark's favorite puppet] hiding because she was miserable. And she never came out of her hiding place during the whole children’s story.
I’ve been feeling like hiding the last couple of days. Sarah and I had wonderful marriage retreat last weekend, a time to rest, be spontaneous, play and talk.
Then I had a very busy week with lots of good meetings, conversations, planning, helping people out, and writing.
By Friday I wanted to hide. Same thing after working at the strawberry festival on Saturday. I took a nap, caught up on some work in my office for an hour and a half, and then I wanted to hide again.
Sarah was feeling the same way, not quite recovered from being sick this week, so we went on a picnic at the canal. We talked. Nothing major was bothering us; we just felt sad and wore out. Life and energy has its rhythm, its ebb and flow. Sarah and I were ebbing. In a few days we will be flowing with the energy and joy of Hannah and Donny’s wedding.
In the meantime, Saturday night was a time to ebb and hide. We stood quietly on the bridge, noticing how slow a leaf moved in the water until it neared the lock; then suddenly it dashed and joined the cascade of the falls over the lock.
Together. Sad. In love. Alone. Ebbing. Needing.
Move over Alfalfa. Sometimes we all need to hide in Jesus.
Blessings, Rich
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Oddballs doing beautiful things
June 10, 2003
Dear folks,
I snatched Fritz’s stocking cap off his head on the way in from fourth grade noon recess and tossed it into a huge puddle of melted snow.
It was the most shameful thing I did in grade school.
Gerald Langness, a quiet boy, stood out only because he was the shortest boy, making him one of the class scapegoats. Early in grade school someone nicknamed him Fritz.
Gerald did nothing to offend me. Why then did I snatch his cap off and throw it in the puddle? Because I gave in to the age old urge to pick on the odd person in the group.
Every group has people who don’t quite fit in and every group faces the temptation of putting the person down, attacking them as I did Fritz, mocking their mannerisms, avoiding them, etc.
During my first semester in college my roommate almost never talked to me. Other guys in the dorm teased me mercilessly about my sexual naiveté. One day a group began talking about another man on campus who walked with crutches (I used a cane and a wheelchair at the time) and my roommate told the group that he had the strongest urge to kick the crutches out from under the student.
No wonder he didn’t talk to me. I was the Fritz of my dorm.
One way we Creekers are tempted to scapegoat is to try to “fix” the person who doesn’t quite fit in.
Jesus loved oddballs. Take the lady who dumped a fortune in perfume on his head. Some in the group tried to fix her, rebuking her sharply for not cashing in the perfume and giving the money to the poor.
"Leave her alone," said Jesus. "Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. ... I tell you the truth, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.’
There is no room for scapegoating among us because oddballs can do beautiful things.
Blessings, Rich
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What God formed you to love to do
May 31, 2003
Dear folks,
“Some day I want to do fund raising connected with a Plow Creek-based ministry,” I said in members meeting in the fall of 1997.
“What ministry?” someone asked.
“We don’t have such a ministry now,” I said, “but since I love fund raising it makes sense to me that one day we’ll have a Plow Creek-based ministry that I can help raise funds.”
In follow-up to the Natural Church Development survey Lyn Fitz and I have been talking about how to strengthen Plow Creek worship and teaching. I’m getting excited because the best way to strengthen our worship and teaching is to have people do what they love to do.
Last Sunday Sarah and I worshiped with Hannah and Heidi at Communion Fellowship in Goshen. I noticed that their worship overheads had the words to songs printed over faint artwork in the background.
“Wow,” I thought, “Tutuk is loves to do artwork. Maybe she could do artwork on some of our song overheads. And Rick , he loves to do calligraphy, maybe he could do some of our overheads in calligraphy.”
(Tutuk, Rick, and worship committee, I hope you don’t mind finding out this way what was going on in my brain last Sunday morning.)
As Lyn and I talk about Natural Church Development we keep circling back to: we want a healthy, thriving, lively church where each of us is handing out gifts of what God shaped us to love to do.
This morning Jim Fitz called to practice on me the art of making fund raising phone calls for his peace-making ministry . I spent several minutes coaching him as he practiced making a calls.
After I hung up I thought, “In 1997 I said I wanted to use my love for fund raising in a Plow Creek-based ministry. And now I am using 20 years of fund raising experience to coach Jim to raise funds for a Plow Creek-based peace ministry. Ain’t God amazing?”
How can God use what you love to do?
Blessings,
Rich
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What you hate to do and what you love to do
May 20, 2003
Dear folks,
Sarah and I celebrated our 29th wedding anniversary on Sunday and we’re still learning to fit our strengths and weakness together.
Churches need to do the same thing.
Lyn Fitz and I have been studying Natural Church Development to see how to help us as a church improve on inspiring worship.
Lyn suggested Plow Creek do a gift discernment. The gift discernment could help each of us identify our gifts not only for worship but also for other church work and life. Lyn said, “We could each share in sharing group what we love to do and what we hate to do.”
Last Wednesday night I saw how what Sarah and I love do to and hate to do fit together perfectly.
Both of us volunteered to spend the evening phoning for financial pledges to Gateway Services.
The lady in charge made Sarah and me a team. I started making calls and Sarah wrote down the pledges and wrote thank you notes.
After making several calls, thinking that I shouldn’t have all the fun, I asked Sarah if she wanted a turn calling. “No,” she said emphatically.
An expert in Sarah’s intonation, I realized that calling for donations was not her idea of fun.
As we worked together I realized that all I wanted to do was talk to people on the phone. And all Sarah wanted to do was track the pledges, write thank you notes, make sure that that I always had another number to call, and celebrate pledges with me.
If Sarah and I had taken turns calling and handling the paperwork she would have hated making calls and I would have been constantly worried that the donors wouldn’t be able to read my handwritten thank yous.
We each avoided what we hated, did what we loved, and together raised over $600 in pledges for Gateway in less than three hours.
Blessings, Rich
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Tornadoes, socializing at Plow Creek and Japanese management decision-making
May 11, 2003
Dear folks,
Last night a tornado tossed a neighbor’s roof into Dennis Zehr’s parents’ house. This morning Dennis went to be with his parents, who were not injured.
Then he called Rick at Plow Creek and asked for volunteers to help with the clean-up this afternoon.
In a few minutes during announcement time at common lunch Rick, with the help of Tim, the common meal emcee, led us to develop a plan to have a dozen or more people drive to Morton this afternoon to help. (See also Tornado Cleanup )
Do you realize what a miracle it is for us to rearrange teen group, Sunday singer and lots of family schedules in less than five minutes during common meal announcement time?
Our quick decision-making reminded me of Japanese managers.
In the 1950’s cheap Japanese transistor radios and other products were looked down on in the USA but by the late 70’s Japanese cars and electronics were among the best.
American management experts wanted to know why. What were the Japanese doing to become so successful?
One management expert noticed that Japanese managers spent a lot of time socializing, often without making decisions. Then suddenly the need for a decision would appear and the Japanese managers would swiftly make the needed decision.
The expert suggested that the Japanese managers were able to make quick decisions because they spend so much time socializing without making decisions.
At Plow Creek we have two common meals a week just so we can hang out together without making decisions. It’s a time to catch up on the week, to listen to stories about cars breaking down and getting fixed, kids getting sick and getting all better, jokes, the latest political miseries and the latest bird-sightings.
Basically we eat and love one another.
Then suddenly a need for a decision arises and we re-arrange our afternoon in less than five minutes so we can go love somebody else.
Blessings,
Rich
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Plow Creek in each of our hands
May 4, 2003
Dear folks,
“What part of Plow Creek life and ministry are you called to develop, Louise, Neil, Rich?”
Every week the above question is on our elder’s meeting agenda. We don’t often talk about it but I leave it on the agenda as a regular reminder that God has called us to use our gifts in ways that develop the life and ministry of Plow Creek.
This is a question not only for elders but for each member. When God call’s us to Plow Creek he also calls us to build up his body here at Plow Creek. He gives each us gifts, interests and passions that help us to develop the life and ministry here.
When Caro l felt called to begin a children’s church I was delighted. God has given us lots of little children and he calls us to treasure each of them and build them up.
When Neil and Gary said yes to co-leading the farm I was deeply grateful. The farm has long been a part of the life and blessing of Plow Creek. For it to continue to be so we need farmers who are passionate and gifted in growing plants and animals.
When Lyn Fitz and Anni began talking about improving the nursery I was so thankful because it is good to bless our children with more space.
When Steve used his computer skills to build a network between our houses and link us up to the Internet though a satellite I was amazed and blessed.
The Lord has put Plow Creek in each of our hands.
What part of Plow Creek life and ministry are you called to develop?
Blessings, Rich
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Spilled coffee and other ways to forget God’s love
April 27, 2003
Dear folks,
I started out yesterday morning with such good intentions.
When we took the natural church development survey as a church inspiring worship proved to be our “minimum factor”. So I’ve been thinking about how we can work toward inspiring worship and life-changing teaching.
A couple of worship leaders have mentioned to me that they feel pressure to produce great worships. And I, as a teacher and chairperson of the teaching committee, feel pressure to produce more life-changing teachings.
In my quiet time yesterday morning I talked to the Lord about worship. I sensed him saying, “Worship is not a test, Richard, it is a response to my lavish love.”
So I decided to enjoy God’s lavish love yesterday and see my work as worship in response to his lavish love.
I don’t like taking care of lots of details but yesterday morning I had lots details to attend to. Lots of library board and Evergreen Leaders phone calls to make. Manuscripts to print and mail.
First, I spilled coffee on the phone in my office which turned on an annoying blinking light on the phone and turned off one of the phone lines. A mechanical moron, I feel helpless when my equipment stops working and I am clueless about how to fix it.
I finished the phone calls using the other line all the while fretting about who I was going to get to look at the phone. I sort of forgot that I was going to see my work as worship in response to God’s lavish love.
Then I packaged two manuscripts. When I arrived at the Tiskilwa Post Office I discovered that they had new hours and had closed at 11:00 a.m.
That’s OK, I said to myself, I can it make it to the Princeton Post Office in time mail them.
Once there I handed the packages to the clerk. She weighed them and told me the cost. I pulled out my business credit card. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, ‘Our credit card machine is broken and they won’t get here to fix it until 3:00 and we close at noon.”
I did not have enough cash with me to mail even one of the manuscripts.
It’s noon, I thought as I drove home, and I can stop working before anything else will go wrong.
It’s a good thing worship is not a test or I would have failed.
Slowly through the afternoon I returned to the basics. God loves me even when I spill coffee on the phone. God loves me even when I don’t pay attention to the card the post office sent me telling me their new hours. God loves me even though I didn’t get those Evergreen Leaders manuscripts off to two board members. God loves me even when I don’t produce very well. God even loves me when I forget that he loves me lavishly.
I’m back to worshiping him.
Blessings, Rich
PS. During the afternoon the phone dried out, the annoying light stopped blinking, and the line started working.
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More lessons from a sore back
April 20, 2003
Dear folks,
Easter is here and my back is better. Hallelujah.
Last week I told you I was learning to be still and let Jesus’ teach me and prepare me for the next season of motion.
During the week I sat and rested my back I meditated on a scripture that our sharing group reflected on that week: I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit…
One day as I rested my sore bank it sunk in. He didn’t say, If you work hard for me, you will bear much fruit.
I can be laid up with a sore back, do no work, remain in Jesus and bear much fruit. Wow.
This week the Lord built on that lesson. One day I was fretting about how slow going it’s been to recruit more board members for Evergreen Leaders.
The Lord seemed to say, “Richard, I am at work too. Not just you. You may not seem to be making much progress but I am working and one of these days I’ll let you in on what I’m doing and you can do little and bear much fruit.”
Another lesson from a sore back: Jesus let’s us in on what he’s doing.
It’s Easter. He’s doing great.
Blessings,
Rich
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A sore back and other reasons to be still
April 9, 2003
Dear folks,
A couple months ago I began to take Humira, a new medicine, for my rheumatoid arthritis. The medicine has helped me feel and move better than I have for two years.
I have been so thankful.
Then over the weekend I began to experience a sore back. By Sunday night I knew I needed to cut back on my schedule to rest my back.
I sat in my chair and cry out, "What is going on, Lord?"
I suspect that after two months of motion my body and spirit knows it’s time for me to slow down, take a breather, and reconnect deeply with the Lord.
But, Lord, it’s been so fun to move freely.
After protesting this time of stillness I have begun to turn to the Lord to see what he has to teach me. In the middle of this back pain I want to know his fierce love and be shaped by him for my next season of motion.
What is he teaching me? Look for one lesson in tomorrow’s Evergreen Leaders Update. And look for more in next week’s letter.
In the meantime I need to go back to being still with the Lord.
Blessings, Rich
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An inheritance
March 30, 2003
Dear folks,
After the process group meeting yesterday afternoon I asked myself, "Why am I so passionate about welcoming people in the 20’s and 30’s into Plow Creek Fellowship?"
Sometimes I feel alone in the vision and hope that people in the next generation will be eager to join our communal version of a global village practicing the peace of Jesus.
Maybe, as Sarah said to me last night, the next generation is not interested in communal living.
In my scripture reading this morning I ran across the word inheritance. The Promised Land was an inheritance for the people of Israel. Paul wrote to the Colossians church to give "thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the kingdom of light."
Ah, I thought, that’s why I am so passionate about passing on Plow Creek Fellowship to the next generation.
As with everyone else who joins Plow Creek Fellowship Sarah and I are not accumulating land and money to pass on to our children as an inheritance.
But in growing up here our children inherited incredible spiritual blessings, they inherited the love of a group of adults, they inherited friendships, they inherited a sense of how to love and be loved, and they inherited a deep sense of being part of a people and a place.
Hannah, Heidi and Jon will carry this inheritance in their hearts all of their lives, whether they live at Plow Creek or not.
When Sarah and I arrived in 1977 by God’s incredible grace we were "qualified" to become part of this people and place called Plow Creek Fellowship. Sarah and I arrived as broken people. Yet through God’s love and the love of our brothers and sisters we have both blossomed, flourished and thrived. We inherited houses, businesses and ministries not our own.
So why am I so passionate about welcoming the next generation to Plow Creek Fellowship?
I want to pass on to the next generation this incredible inheritance that that God and the founders of Plow Creek so richly passed on to us.
Blessings,
Rich
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What President Bush, Saddam Hussein, and Osama bin Laden believe
March 23, 2003
Dear folks,
Bush, bin Laden and Hussein believe in, to use Walter Wink’s term, "the myth of redemptive violence."
Saddam Hussein believed that Iraq and the Middle East would be better off with him as a dominant leader, killing Iraqis who were a threat to him, fighting wars with Iran and Kuwait, sacrificing hundreds of thousands of lives.
Bin Laden believed that he could make the world a better place for Islam by masterminding the turning of passenger planes into missiles to destroy the World Trade Center.
President Bush believes he can make the USA more secure by invading Iraq and removing Hussein from power, sacrificing Iraqi, Americans and British lives in the process.
Each believes the myth of redemptive violence—good coming out of killing.
What do we believe?
We believe in the redemptive power of love. When Jesus was about to be killed by leaders who believed in the myth of redemptive violence he said to his friends, "Love one another as I have loved you."
On Wednesday night Sarah, Jon and I were working on our taxes in my office. Erin came in. She had been crying. On Tuesday night she had found out that she had to wait longer for a visa to go to Colombia. And then on Wednesday night the USA began bombing Baghdad where her dad is with CPT.
Good reasons to cry.
We listened to her for awhile and then I said, "Would you like a hug?"
"Oh, yes," she said, "hugs definitely help." Sarah, Jon and I each gave her a hug. We talked for awhile longer and she was about to leave when I asked if she’d like another hug. Yes. I hugged her, Sarah hugged her and Jon stood up, towering over her by a foot, and gave her a hug.
We believe in the redemptive power of love.
Blessings,
Rich
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Faithful in three little words
March 16, 2003
Dear folks,
Three little words added to my worship this morning: "Used by permission."
At the bottom of the overheads of the two Jim Croegaert songs we sang this morning it said, "Used by permission."
Several months ago I mentioned in elders meeting that I felt bad about us using worship songs without permission. To put it crudely, it hindered my worship every time I thought of us stealing worship songs.
But I am not a very organized person so it seemed overwhelming to me to track down the copyright holders to get permission to use their songs.
Louise said she would do something about. And quietly she went about getting permission. When I saw the words, "Used by permission" on the screen, my heart blessed Louise for her faithfulness in the small things. And I worshiped the Lord freely.
Later when I started doing the adult teaching I realized that I had forgotten to bring paper and pencils for an exercise that I planned to have people do. As soon as I mentioned my forgetfulness Carol and Steve jumped up to find paper and pencils.
I was forgetful. They were faithful in a little thing.
Used by permission. It’s the little things….
Blessings,
Rich
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Marvin, Jesus and me
March 9, 2003
Dear folks,
I wonder if Jesus has as a hard a time getting through to me as Marvin does.
Three times a week on the way to the Met to swim, I pray, asking the Lord to prepare me to be his presence at the Met, to lead me into good conversations.
On Friday when I finished my laps I went to sit in the jacuzzi. Marvin was the only other person there. I must confess that my heart sank. Lord, you want me to talk to Marvin? Marvin has cerebral palsy and is very hard for me to understand.
At first Marvin ignored me as the warm water swirled about both of us. Then he started to talk. I understood two words. “Two days.” He kept pointing to the sauna door next the jacuzzi and repeating, “two days” and a lot of other words I didn’t understand. Usually I can pick up a word or two and keep repeating what I think he is saying until I understand him.
Marvin kept talking and I kept not understanding. I didn’t know if something had happened two days ago or was going to happen in two days.
Frustrated, Marvin moved over next to me, raised his voice and kept repeating himself. Still I didn’t understand. Marvin reached out and grabbed my arms and began to pull. For an instant I thought he was attacking me for not understanding.
Then the light bulb went on. “Marvin, you pulled somebody up?” He nodded. “In the jacuzzi?” He shook his head and pointed to the sauna. “You helped someone in the sauna?” He nodded.
We went into the sauna and he showed me where two days before someone lay on a bench, apparently having fainted or nearly fainted, and Marvin had helped him out of the sauna.
Marvin and I were so happy once I understood.
I thought about Marvin on Sunday morning when I played the part of Jesus in the worship drama. Jesus had such a hard time getting through to his disciples about how to be leaders without lording it over everybody. I’ve been an elder for almost 22 years and, like Marvin, Jesus has to keep repeating the same lessons to me.
Ah, but Jesus and I are so happy each time I understand.
Blessings,
Rich
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The risky business of prayer
March 4, 2003
Dear folks,
On Thursday the Bureau County Republican will be publishing a pastor’s column I wrote. Here’s a sneak preview (as they say in the movie biz):
Praying is easy. It’s stumbling along the perilous paths of God’s answers that are tough.
Last year during Lent a bito, a mosquito-type creature, bit Plow Creek member Jim Fitz on the knee while he was in Colombia, South America with Christian Peacemaker Teams.
Jim and the CPT members accompanied rural farmers and fisherman who were in danger of being killed by armed groups such as paramilitaries and guerrillas. Their work often brought them in contact with the paramilitaries, a group that is responsible for 80% of the human rights abuses in Colombia.
The bito bite raised an angry, three-quarter inch infected welt on Jim’s knee and his whole leg was swollen. The team took him to a doctor who put him on antibiotics and told him to wear cutoffs so that the bite was exposed to air. The antibiotics seemed to help for a day or so and then the swelling returned. Jim and the team prayed for his knee.
Each week during last year’s Lent, the Colombia CPT team held a prayer services in places where violence was common. One day they went to a port where paramilitaries were in control and where killings and kidnappings happened.
Colombian paramilitaries carry death lists—lists of civilians that they suspect of cooperating with the guerrillas. They regularly stop civilians to see if they are on their death list, killing those who are.
The CPTer let passersby at the port know that they were holding a prayer service. As part of the service they burned a mock death list, put the ashes in a hole in the ground and planted a tree in the hole.
As the prayer service progressed a group of men with untucked shirts gathered around them. The paramilitaries keep their shirts untucked to conceal their weapons. The CPT team passed out a peace litany and invited the onlookers to join them in praying for peace.
After the service Jim went over to the men with the untucked shirts and began talking to them. One of the men saw Jim’s inflamed knee and said that antibiotics would not help it. You needed some one to "pray for you on that one," he told Jim. Then he offered to take Jim to a native healer.
Jim and the team had been praying for Jim’s knee. Was this how God wanted to answer the prayer? Or was it a paramilitary trap?
In an act of faith Jim and two other CPTers piled into the man’s beat-up old red car. While they were in the car a fellow CPTer radioed them that he suspected the driver was a paramilitary up to no good.
Jim and his fellow CPTers in the car kept praying, agonizing about what to do. Finally they decide to trust that the man really was planning to help Jim.
The man stopped the car at the end of a dead end alley and introduced Jim to Chan, an oriental healer, who checked Jim’s leg and said, "A bito bit you and antibiotics won't help and Bebeno will."
He put a liquid with some herb on the wound and told Jim he would have to wait until tomorrow for the full cure because the herb would not work unless Jim stopped the antibiotics.
Another agonizing decision! To stop the antibiotics or not. However, in a couple of hours the swelling and pain had noticeably gone down. So Jim stopped the antibiotics and within days the leg was healed, leaving only a small scar.
Jim and the CPTers prayed. That was the easy part. Less easy to keep trusting as God chose to answer the prayer through a suspected member of the paramilitary and a native healer.
Blessings,
Rich
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Does the truth set you free?
February 25, 2003
Dear folks,
I must confess that I sometimes find it hard to believe that the truth will set me free. Jesus said it but sometimes I’d rather hide.
After all, the truth can be very ugly.
One day about a decade ago when we were in the midst of our trauma as a church I was talking to Sarah in our bedroom about a particularly difficult interaction with Robert (not his real name). I don’t remember the details of the conversation but I was very angry, and in my anger I used the F word.
A moment later I realized that as I said it, our junior high daughter, Heidi, walked by the door. Did she hear me? After finishing the conversation with I walked into Heidi’s room and instantly I knew by her ashen face that she had heard. I was mortified.
I told her the truth. I had really said that word that she could never imagine her father saying. I briefly told her the context and that what I was talking to Sarah about had made me very angry. Then I apologized profusely for how I had hurt her by using the word.
On Sunday night on the train from Syracuse Heidi, Sarah and I, for the first time since then, talked about the incident again. When I brought it up, tears welled up in my eyes as I said how sad I was that I hurt her. She said that it had helped that I had come and talked with her right away. She also said that she once told her Bible study group about the incident when they were studying a passage about Jesus being angry.
She asked me questions and I told her about other interactions I had with Robert during those hard years. As we talked I began to get the chills. Oh no, I thought I don’t want to spend the night on the train with a fever.
As I prepared to go to sleep Sarah said, "I think talking about Robert makes you sick."
I confessed that I had the same thought. As if Jesus had said, "The truth will make you sick."
As I closed my eyes to go to sleep on the train I had a chance to pray and the Lord reminded me that in my morning quiet time he had said my passion for honesty comes from him. As Heidi and Sarah could tell by my tears it was painful to share about those events. I was so grateful that the Lord reminded me that my sharing comes from a passion for honesty that he has instilled in me. After recalling his words I felt at peace and went to sleep and my fever cleared up. Thank you, Lord.
Today I looked back in my quiet time journal to see the exact words I thought the Lord was saying to me that morning: "Richard, your passion for honesty comes from my fierce love for the truth. Stand knee deep in the truth and waves of love will flow over you."
It was like waves of love flowed over me as I fell asleep and the fever went away.
Blessings,
Rich
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Pentecostal peace roots
February 16, 2003
Dear folks,
When I became a Mennonite I fell into cynicism about my boyhood Pentecostal church. As a lad I had been proud to be part of a church that preached the "full gospel." When I became Mennonite I thought, "Pentecostals may preach the full gospel but somehow they missed that peace is part of the full gospel."
Lord, have mercy, I was wrong.
About a decade ago my dad told me that they updated the constitution of their church, something they hadn’t done since it was written in the 1930’s, and they had to take out part of it because it said they believed the same as me.
"The believed the same as me about what?"
"War. It said we don’t believe in going to war. We had to take that part out."
"Dad, send me the part that you took out." Here is Article II of the Grygla Gospel Tabernacle, the church I grew up in:
While this assembly recognizes that government is ordained of God and that its members should be subject to the "higher powers", according to Romans 13:1-7, yet, as the Word of God teaches that we should not kill, Exodus 20:13, and further admonishes us to "follow peace with all men", Hebrews 12:14, and to "love our enemies and do good to them that hate us", Matthew 5:44, it believes war to be at variance with the principles of the gospel and that its members should not take up arms against their fellow men.
I was amazed. Here I thought I had moved away from Pentecostal beliefs when I became a pacifist but I was actually connecting with my roots.
I thought about this Thursday when I got an e-mail from Paul Alexander, Ph.D.,
Associate Professor, Bible & Theology, at the Southwestern Assemblies of God University. He asked me to sign an open letter to President Bush written by Marlon Millner, a Pentecostal called "Send Judah First: A Pentecostal Perspective on Peace."
"Send Judah First", Miler notes, "is an expression used in Spirit-filled churches to suggest by praising God, we can defeat evil as manifested in Saddam Hussein." He quotes to story from 2 Chronicles 20:20-22. King Jehoshaphat appoints singers to go in front of the army to worship the Lord and the Lord routs the armies from three nations.
Millner’s letter is a little over three pages long. Here’s an excerpt:
"We agree with the priorities of construction and creation, rather than destruction through war. We also believe the humanizing power of God's love leads us to engage even our enemies, with our hopes not in men, but in God's ability to transform persons and institutions. Only through dialogue, mutual investment and self-sacrifice, can we demonstrate our Christian love, binding us together only as we work for peace. This is the true effect of praise, for the writer of the letter to the Hebrews reminds us not only to, " ... continually offer a sacrifice of praise to God, that is the fruit of lips that confess his name," but he adds, "Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God."
The letter acknowledges that in the early 1900’s many Pentecostal leaders were pacifists but that they accommodated to the culture by World War II. Returning to his Pentecostal peace roots, Millner concludes his letter with, "we, the undersigned, challenge all Christians, including you, Mr. President, to re-orient their thinking to trust that "Sending Judah First" may in fact be the only way for Christians to truly say they trust God to deliver them in the face of imminent attacks of a grave nature and to work for peace even in the face of grotesque evil.
Reading the letter made my heart dance with praise. Imagine, joining together with the people of my roots, praising God for peace. HALLELUJAH!
I signed the letter. If you’d like a copy of the letter let me know and I’ll e-mail it to you.
Blessings,
Rich
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Looking for smiles
February 9, 2003
Dear folks,
This morning in my quiet time I sensed the Lord telling me to look for smiles in worship. I went looking for smiles.
During worship when Mark invited us to greet one another Andy Fitz came up to me with a big smile. After we greeted each other I looked around the room, watching as smiles leapt from face to face.
"Hearing laughter, we automatically smile or laugh too," says Daniel Goleman in Primal Leadership, "creating a spontaneous chain reaction that sweeps through a group. Glee spreads so readily because our brains include open-loop circuits, designed specifically for detecting smiles and laughter that make us laugh in response."
That quote makes me think of Donna Harnish. Sometimes she chuckles with Jim and I when we are talking and laughing.
I kept looking for smiles. During the prayer time Meg Foxvog prayed for her Mom who is stopping the chemo treatments for her cancer and beginning hospice. Meg began to cry.
My heart ached with Meg. There is a time to smile and a time to weep.
Later in the sharing time Joanne Janzen said that she saw Meg carefully carry in an amaryllis, (also called a bella dona lily) in full bloom and put it on the piano. She thanked Meg for bringing the plant through the cold to add beauty to our worship.
As she thanked Meg I looked at Meg and saw a beautiful smile on her face. Bella dona literally means "beautiful lady."
There is a time to weep and a time to smile.
Later Meg told me that the plant was a gift from her mom and dad. This was the first time it had bloomed for her.
I looked at the plant on the piano, a lovely long green stem topped with pink and white petals, and I smiled.
Blessings,
Rich
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Listening to machines
February 3, 2003
Dear folks,
"Rich, when a machine starts making strange noises," Rick Reha told me several years ago, "it’s speaking to you and you would do well to listen."
I don’t recall what machine had broken down—the car I was driving or my three-wheeled wheelchair but it had been making strange noises for some time before it broke down. I had ignored the strange noises. That led Rick to give me a lesson in listening to machines.
Yesterday in the adult teaching I talked about our missions giving us power. I don’t know how Rick would describe his mission but surely part of his mission in life is to create beauty out of inanimate objects. A machine that works well is a thing of beauty. I depend on machines to move about; to me a broken moving machine is a thing of misery.
So when told me I would do well to listen when one a machine is speaking to me I knew I would do well to learn to listen to the voice of the machines I use.
Rick is a very smart teacher. He knew that I believe strongly in listening. Up until that time I had grasped the value of listening to people but I had overlooked the value of listening to machines.
Since Rick’s lesson I have realized that machines can talk non-verbally as well as through noises. About three weeks ago I stopped at the stop sign by Bottom Road, pressed on the accelerator, and the car hesitated before moving. I had a moment of worrying about the transmission which had been repaired by AAMCO in New York last August. When a few days later it hesitated at the same stop sign I remembered Rick’s lesson and said to myself, "I better listen to whatever my transmission is trying to say.
This morning I took the car to AAMCO in Peoria and they repaired a leak and replaced a quart of transmission fluid.
Am I ever glad I listened to the cars little hesitation move at the Bottom Road stop sign.
Rick, your bit of wisdom is building me up in love.
Blessings,
Rich
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What if all Christians became pacifists?
January 26, 2003
Dear folks,
“What if all Christians became pacifists?” someone asked at the “Blessed are the Peacemakers” conference at the Princeton Covenant Church on Friday night. Wouldn’t wars continue? Would Christians just stand by while others fought? Perhaps people who were not pacifists would turn on Christians?
Gandhi was a Hindu, not a Christian but he was profoundly affected by the teachings of Jesus on not resisting evil and loving your enemies. When the British and India finally negotiated the end of the British colonial rule the long resentments between Hindu’s and Moslems began to surface.
Everyone was afraid that fighting would erupt between the two groups on the day India became independent. Lord Mountbatten who was overseeing the independence knew there were two areas where fighting was likely to erupt, one area in the west near what is now Pakistan and one area in the east near Bangladesh.
He had enough troops to quell the violence in the west but not enough for the east. He asked 77-year-old Gandhi to go to Calcutta in the east, an area where 6000 people had already been killed in one day of fighting.
Gandhi agreed to go to Calcutta as long as he could live with a Moslem leader. Two days before independence he arrived and was greeted with rocks and bottles thrown my angry Hindu’s who had relatives killed by Moslems.
He waved a frail hand at them and said, “You wish to do me ill and so I have come to you. I have come to serve Hindus and Moslems alike. I am going to place myself under your protection. You are welcome to turn against me if you wish.”
For two days he lived in a ghetto home and lectured over a loud speaker about love brotherhood and peace.”
On the day of Independence Mountbatten said, “On my Western front I have 100,000 crack troops and unstoppable bloodshed. On my east I have one old man and no bloodshed.” Hundreds of thousands were dying in other parts of India but not blood was shed in Calcutta.
Thirteen days later fighting erupted in Calcutta around Gandhi. He went on a fast. For two days Hindus and Moslems ignored him and went on killing each other. An old man, his heart beat became irregular and his blood pressure began to drop. The radio stations began to report on his deteriorating condition. The fighting slowed as the combatants listened to the reports. Then the fighting stopped, the leaders of the factions came and asked forgiveness, and they laid down their arms. The religious leaders in the city signed a pact to stop fighting and Gandhi took his first sip of orange juice.
The fighters did not want to be responsible for the death of an old peacemaker.
What if all the Christians in the world became pacifists and became peacemakers like Jesus and Gandhi?
Blessings, Rich
PS. The Gandhi story is recounted in Soul Survivor by Philip Yancey.
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How good it is to be divinely surprised
January 12, 2003
Dear folks,
A week ago Saturday night Sarah and I came home late and found a cereal bowl Saran-wrapped on the dining room table. In had a lovely presentation of cut up fruit in it—bananas, raspberries, pineapple, apples.
Sarah and I tasted it that night and the next morning I finished it off while I was having my quiet time. We had no idea where it had come from but we tasted and it was good.
Later after worship that morning, Charissa Graham came up to me and said, "Did you like the fruit?"
"Did you bring us that bowl of fruit?" I asked. She nodded happily and I gave her a big hug. "Thank you. It was great fruit."
"I decided to make night rounds last night," she said.
Charissa decided to make night rounds in our little global village and Sarah and I tasted delicious fruit.
Then during our Three Kings Day celebration Gary Dean gave me "Global Village Brew" mix. I pour three teaspoons in a cup, add hot water, and sip thinking about the Holy Spirit making night rounds.
Blessings, Rich
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Room for a cheerful old bird
January 5, 2003
Dear folks, Last week I wrote that I was tired and sad. My rheumatoid disease has kicked up a notch; I have a harder time doing some things like putting on my socks and shooting pictures, and I have less energy. I concluded last week's letter by saying I was heading to "Reba for a two-day retreat. More time of being still with the Lord, sitting like a bedraggled bird, waiting for new life to hatch in 2003."
During the retreat I meditated on Psalm 84. Here's a verse that touched me: Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young-- a place near your altar, O LORD Almighty, my King and my God.
After a few years of praying for healing in my late teens and early 20's I ended up feeling like I no longer fit in the Pentecostal church. Eventually I left. During my retreat the Lord helped me to see that emotionally, as my rheumatoid disease has reactivated, I have begun to be afraid that I am going to lose my people again. This time Plow Creek. I don't want to lose you folks. You are an incredibly important part of my life.
Gently the Lord let me know that I have a place at Plow Creek just as the sparrow, swallow and her young had a place in the ancient temple. Gradually I began to envision that I could be an old codger at Plow Creek, dozing off, waking, smiling at people, dozing off again, and that would be okay. The Lord's last word to me on the retreat: "Richard, you can be a happy bird hanging our around my house."
I like that.
Blessings, Rich
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