I have a blessed companion, a pastor I have never met, and only talked to via social media. He is Zach Lambert, lead pastor of Restore Church in Austin, Texas. I can hardly wait to listen to his sermons, usually on Monday mornings laying on my couch with bear between my feet. Here is the link for Zach’s easter sermon this past Sunday: https://youtu.be/46QHM2V532Q?si=-LYkXPsznPTTR4Yh. I hope you’ll click and listen, and wrestle with me about the wonder of God’s wide-open welcome.

For the last three days (and really for the last 40 years) I have been wrestling with the the nature of the grace of God in Christ Jesus. I know I’ll never be able to fully get it, but I also know I want to grow into it’s free and full nature, and pastor Zach, week after week, helps me so much in this way. Just take in these wonderful words from this past Sunday:

“D’yall know anyone who feels like God’s grace has gotten a little out of hand? That it’s too radical, that it’s too inclusive, that it’s too all-encompassing? Do you know anyone who feels like there’s some people undeserving of God’s grace?

“Through the cross and the empty grave Jesus transformed hate into love, death into life and now the most offensive part of it all, Jesus offered that life and love to absolutely everyone.”

“God’s grace is not getting out of hand: it has been out of hand for 2000 years. It has been out of hand ever since the Creator of the universe put on flesh, came to earth, died on a cross, and rose from the grave on Easter Sunday morning. It has been out of hand ever since God said ‘My grace is all you need.’ And now we have two choices: get out of the way, so we can experience the life-changing grace of God in our own lives, and give it away to everyone that we meet…or get in the way of what Jesus is doing by claiming that only certain people deserve God’s grace…“

Through Zach’s preaching and the gospel he shares simply and clearly I am both comforted and challenged. That’s the very nature of grace if it’s ever going to be grace at all. The comfort is in the invitation to just let go and give up and give in and welcome God’s redeeming love. It’s all gift. The challenge is my constant tendency to limit that invitation for others because it seems that grace has no control mechanism…so I’m focused on the “truth”, actually seeing truth as a polar opposite of grace. This, in my view and when I come to my senses is not at all what St. John has in mind when he says “Grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” (John 1:17b)

Much of the pain and sorrow we bear as the church comes when our gospel becomes rooted not in grace AS the truth, but as something in opposition to the truth. Inevitably then we feel God’s grace must be monitored, and controlled, and bordered, so that God can remain holy and we can justify somehow our standing.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating for “cheap grace”. The term “cheap grace” can be traced back to a book written by German theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, called The Cost of Discipleship, published in 1937. In that book, Bonhoeffer defined “cheap grace” as “the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline. Communion without confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ.”

My constant bone to pick is that often as the church seems to be saying to the culture/world that repentance is first and so necessary before grace can be given. Like the day a beloved friend of mine in one of life’s hardest moments as a teenager was told by someone down the row in worship to “leave until you get your life together, then come back.” We must not be defensive about the reality that many have experienced this message as what the gospel is — “Get your life together, and then come and join us” — change, grow to be holy and worthy enough, and then we’ll talk about grace and mercy. And because all human people who are honest struggle with brokenness, they (and we with them) never see a path to grace from a God more interested in holiness.

But the Bible tells the story of our Holy God counting mercy and grace to be the most holy thing, love the greatest thing of all. So what if we could get the order right, that repentance and change of a christ-shaped life is ALL a response to being loved just as we are, graced with mercy fully and freely first?

So much to consider. Love from here! And thank you Pastor Zach!

Peter Hawkinson

During this Holy Week our reflections come from WCC friends who contributed to our Lenten devotional guide in 2016. Today’s contributors are Gary Isaacson and Eloise Nelson.

While they were eating, he took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to them, and said, “Take; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, and all of them drank from it. He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.” (Mark 14:22-25)

The room was nothing special. It was drafty and simply furnished with a plank table and benches and a wooden floor. It must have seemed like a poor place of refuge and respite for the thirteen tired and careworn friends gathered there. But the plain setting and the fatigue and the worry were borne away in wonder when their leader and teacher filled a simple basin with water, removed his outer garments, and knelt before them.

They protested, but he insisted. He taught them once again, with his most humble act of rinsing out the dirt from their feet, that the way to bring the world to the Father was to love with humility, serve one another, and remember his sacrifice. Then they supped, prayed, broke bread, and shared wine to forever remember his assumption of the sins of the world. They enjoyed their friendship and they sang together.

As we approach the table today, let us eat and drink and know that Jesus not only forgives us, but he asks that we take that grace and live it in our world.

“Amazing love, how can it be that Thou, my God, shouldst die for me” (“And Can It Be,” The Covenant Hymnal, #306).

Gary Isaacson

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Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me. Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain me with a willing spirit. (Psalm 51:10-12)

Growing up, I never heard the word Lent mentioned in our non-liturgical church. School classmates, however, talked about giving up coming books, gum, or candy for Lent.

But we did celebrate Good Friday. In our town of Luddington, Michigan, all the stores closed from 2:00 to 5:00 so that people could attend Good Friday services. Our Baptist church and the Free church joined the large Methodist church for a meaningful, well-attended service, with the participating churches sharing the speaking and music.

At Winnetka Covenant Church, we observe Lent in very meaningful ways, but how are we doing personally? Do we have a “clean heart” and a “right spirit” that today’s scripture emphasizes?

In this season focusing on Christ’s suffering and death, we might challenge ourselves to give up some things thinking too much about ourselves, how we look, what we wear, where we’re going. Are we critical, judgmental, or uncaring of others?

In our struggle to give up self-centeredness, we might find that Christ will restore to us “the joy of our salvation” and sustain us in a “willing spirit.”

Create in me a clean heart, O Lord, and renew a right spirit within me.

Eloise Nelson

During Holy Week we are recovering writings of WCC friends from our 2016 lenten devotional guide. Today David Hazelwood and Royce Eckhardt.

“What do you wish me to do with this man?” They shouted back, “Crucify him!” (Mark 15: vv.12-13, NRSV).

When I read how the crowds demand that Pilate release Barabbas and crucify Jesus, I am first struck by the magnitude of the injustice. It is hard for me to comprehend their choice. Can I relate to that crowd?

The truth is, Jesus didn’t fit their picture of the Messiah. He didn’t look like the king they imagined would free them from their current Roman captivity through political force. He was a disappointment.

I can relate to that crowd.

Often I have a picture of how things should be and it’s not working out– not the way it is supposed to. And I am angry. I don’t want to trust that God knows the best way and has the best picture. I want, in those moments, to make my own way. I don’t want the way of faith, but a way that I think will “work.” I want Barabbas and not Jesus.

In his great mercy, God, through Jesus on the cross, brings his kingdom and does his will, so that I get his infinitely better picture, and learn to trust him.

Heavenly Father, keep us from our attempts to make our own, fear-driven ways, but rather, teach us not to be afraid and to trust your ways.

David Hazelwood

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A wealthy young man asked the all-important question of Jesus: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Mark 10:17) “You know all the commandments,” Jesus responds, and the young man acknowledges his faithful compliance with the law. But there’s one more thing lacking: he must sell all his worldly goods and give the money to the poor. That’s not the answer the young man was looking for! When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving. His emotional attachment to his wealth and status overruled his willingness to heed the words of Jesus.

Do our possessions and privilege make us insensitive to the great needs of those around us? “Those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires…for the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil” (1 Timothy 6:9-10).

To love God above all else is also to open our eyes to the dire needs of people around us and serve them in Christ’s name. The two are inextricably bound together.

Eternal God, you call us from the vain world’s golden store, from each idol that would keep us, saying “Christian, love me more.” May we give our hearts to your obedience, serve and love you best of all. Amen. (“Jesus Calls Us o’er the Tumult,” The Covenant Hymnal, #379)

Royce Eckhardt

This Holy Week we recover some reflections from WCC friends that appeared in our 2016 lenten devotional guide. Today’s reflections are from Nadia Jiménez and Barbara Balsam.

But whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life. John 4:14 (NIV).

Have you ever had an offer you couldn’t refuse? Frequently we find offers that might be beneficial to us. Although temporary, most come with some form of assumed privilege– an open opportunity. It is normal human instinct to take advantage of opportunities and to assess whether the benefits will affect us positively or negatively.

So often we resolve life’s challenges through shortcuts and miss achieving a lasting resolution. We get lost in society’s “quickness” and settle for the facade and not the substance. How do we then find what we really need in life? Most often we focus on the physical needs; the hunger we have for fulfillment. While satisfying our immediate physical thirst, we lose perspective on the spiritual needs of our soul.

In John 4:14 Jesus presents an offer of water, an offer to take away our thirst forever. Recognize that God is the true end of our search to fulfill our desires of satisfaction and fulfillment, and and it is through the living water that Jesus gives us that our thirsty souls will be quenched. What an offer to be given. What a benefit to be filled with God’s presence.

God, although life gives me offers that challenge me, may your Spirit remind me of your everlasting presence in my life. During times in which I might feel like my soul needs to be filled, my thirst needs to be quenched, may I be reminded that your stream is ever flowing in and through me.

Nadia Jimenez

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Only be careful and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them fade from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them. (Deuteronomy 4:9, NIV)

Moses is teaching God’s decrees and laws to the Israelites. He recounts for them what they have witnessed firsthand– God’s power, preservation, and deliverance.

We all have our stories which are repeated at gatherings of family and friends, many humorous that no one wants to forget and others, history or events of life. With one phrase, our memory flashes back to “replay,” and we relive all the details as if it were today. We know them by heart. They stay alive as they bear repeating. When we replay them we reset our hearts.

How vital it is for us not to forget or to let fade the stories of our faith. It is important to replay what we “saw” when we first believed, when we first followed Jesus, and, the experiences that made us aware of God’s presence, care, and faithfulness throughout life–both good times and hard.

When we replay the stories that have been passed along from generation to generation — stories of God with us, and scriptures telling of Christ’s journey to the cross for us–may they cause us to reset our hearts with humility, gratitude, reverence, obedience, compassion, love, awe, and passionate belief…not to be forgotten.

Lord God, thank you for your love, forgiveness, and ultimate sacrifice. “Lest I forget Gethsemane; lest I forget your agony; lest I forget your love for me, lead me to Calvary” (“King of My Life I Crown Thee Now,” The Covenant Hymnal, #371). Amen.

Barbara Balsam

You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. (Matthew 5:43-44)

How is it possible, really? Enemies are enemies for painful reasons. What you say, Lord Jesus, sounds so beautiful– but this kind of love is brutal, humiliating, even unfair! unfair, because he doesn’t deserve it, she hasn’t sought it, and I’m afraid of being hurt all over again.

How is it possible, really? But then, Lord Jesus, I see you do it, I watch you love me like that– Hear the words, see your arms open wide, unfair! unfair, because I don’t deserve it, haven’t sought it, and you, conquering fear, suffer and die for me.

How is it possible, really? Loving, praying, these are selfless acts. Because I’ve been so loved, I’ll risk loving too– unfair! unfair, yet redemptive, love transforming human hearts and the whole cosmos. All things new!

Lord Jesus, captivate my heart and mind, and most of all my will to live from the strength you give to so love. Amen.

Peter Hawkinson

This phrase caught me in the lenten devotional book The Word in the Wilderness: A Poem a Day for Lent and Easter by Malcom Guite (Canterbury Press, 2014). A friend recently put it in my hands, and I layed it on my reading stack until now. I could just find the appropriate day and begin there, but the poems and reflections are just too rich, so I’m catching up and taking it all in.

The parable for reflection is this: The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all he had and bought it. (Matthew 13:44-46)

The poet is The Bright Field by Welsh poet and Anglican priest R.S. Thomas (1913-2000):

The gospel paradox is the mystery of time. Life is about losing to find, and giving up to gain. These are very hopeful propositions, which clash up against the way we often think about “giving things up” as sacrifices that might show our devotion but do not lead us to abundance. Jesus seems to beg to differ. The author says “The gospel is not about giving up and going without for its own sake; it is about making room for something wonderful.” That invites rich reflection, and he goes on: “We are called into a present continuous, to that ‘turning aside like Moses to the miracle of the lit bush.” Glimpses of glory are richly available always and everywhere, if only we have eyes to see and time to stop. We are not declining toward a sunset, but traveling toward the dawn!

I wonder what the wonder of a presently continuous life might be like — that is, being present to the wonder of life, and God’s good presence in it, every moment of every day. Risky, joyful, exhilarating, expectant, life-altering. Anything’s possible, the best is ahead. This moment, right now, is calling for my full response, maybe even a change in plans. There’s little time for a lengthy and calculated consideration. The present continuous shares a possibility, and opportunity — like a treasure hidden in a field for sale which will take every penny you can muster up by selling everything you already have.

I am challenged to not be numb to life, but fully alive, in the moment, in every holy single breathing moment. As Elizabeth Barrett Browning says it,

“Earth’s crammed with heaven,

and every common bush afire with God;

But only he who sees it takes off his shoes.

The rest sit around and

pluck blackberries and dumb

their natural faces unaware.” (Aurora Leigh, Lines 61-3).

The Present Continuous. Life is found not in hurrying along but in turning aside. What does that mean for you today?

Love From Here

Peter Hawkinson

Our staff meeting begins each Wednesday morning with a short reading and conversation together. Of late we’ve been passing around the book Whistling in the Dark: A Doubter’s Dictionary by Frederick Buechner. This little book takes ordinary words and encourages us to reflect on how they hold and lead us to spiritual realities and practices. This week the word is Imagination, and here’s just a bit of the text:

“If you work at it, you can smell the smell of autumn leaves burning or taste a chocolate malted…It is especially important to do it (use your imagination) in reading the Bible. BE the man who trips over a suitcase of hundred dollar bills buried in the field he’s plowing if you want to know what the Kingdom of Heaven is all about (Matthew 13:44). Listen to Jesus saying, “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28) until you can HEAR him if you want to know what faith is all about.“

We were asked to reflect on what just now fills our imaginations. Many stories, memories, and images were shared by our gathered group. For me this so-called random word showed up on the right day, that being the 8th anniversary of the death of my brother-in-law, Dwight Peterson. My wife Bonnie’s older brother, he was a professor of New Testament at Eastern College In St. David’s, Pennsylvania, nestled in the forests of the far western suburbs of Philadelphia. The first time I met Dwight was the night before my wedding day, here in our church gym where the groomsmen were playing basketball. After first hellos, he got right to it: “Hey, don’t you hurt my sister!” he said with a sly smile, and I came right back with “Hey, don’t you hurt my wife!” and together we laughed and set off on a 25 year brotherhood.

As many of you know, when Dwight was 18 and just setting off for college when he returned home feeling ill, and after spiking a high fever, ended up suffering paralysis. Fo some time as I understand he was left a quadriplegic, but after awhile he began to move his fingers again. Eventually, he regained his torso muscles and ended up living an independent life albeit forever in a wheelchair. He earned his MDIV at Gordon Connell Seminary in suburban Boston and then his PHD at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina. He was able to drive using hand controlled vehicles, and developed massive shoulder muscles as he transferred his own body from one place to another. He taught me much about tenacious and honest faith and how that takes great shape in suffering when there are no easy answers, and how to think about the Gospel of Mark (his doctoral dissertation). His students came to his home so that he could teach them from his bed in his last years. His presence was disarming and inviting, making others feel comfortable and valued. He died just after he watched his son Mark confirm his faith one spring Sunday morning.

The one thing that’s always bothered me is that I never had the chance to know Dwight before his illness changed his life. I never got to watch his 6’8″ frame stand up.

Which brings me back to imagination. If you ever find yourself in the small town of Mount Vernon, Iowa, and in the town cemetery take the road to the top of the hill, you’ll find Dwight’s gravestone, and across it the last part of Isaiah 40:31: “They shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” The whole of Isaiah’s imagination goes like this: “but those who wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.”

So I will always imagine now dear Dwight, fully and forever healed, and whole, and free from a bed and wheelchair. And I shall not consider it just romantic fancy to do so, because by faith I believe that the God of Life, the God of resurrection, the God who makes all things new has gotten ahold of Dwight.

Until that great day when we’ll be together again, his memory will always be a blessing.

Love From Here

Peter Hawkinson

Once again I’m holding the Covenant Book of Worship (1964 edition) that belonged to Rev. Roy Olson, late father of our friend Julie Bromley. What a blessing after his passing that she put it in my care. I take it with me often when I visit with many of you in your homes or at the hospital. I do this for a couple reasons: first, because I love some of the old cadences of language from years ago that seems more poetic; and second, and much more importantly, I am deeply comforted to recall faithful ministers who have prayed for and with God’s people through time. Servants like Roy who gave his life to loving and leading people through life’s journey.

I love the underlines and check marks and half erased names and frayed page markers that reflect his work. For instance, in the funeral service order, among many scriptures of comfort, he checked two of them indicating their most used status:

“The Lord is my light and salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 27:1)

Jesus said…, “I am the resurrection and the life; he [or she] that believes in me, though he [or she] die, yet shall he [or she] live, and whoever lives and believes in me shall never die.(John 11:25-26)

Further on, in the “scripture for visitation” section, one verse is repeatedly underlined:

“Thou dost keep them in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee, because they trust in thee.” (Isaiah 26:3)

and this one had to be a favorite, because Roy writes in in, running out of room at the page bottom:

“Teach me thy way, O Lord, that I may walk in thy truth; unite my heart to fear thy name.” (Psalm 86:11)

To see these marks, and to read these words of hope settles me, and bids me to take my place in the long line of those who have held the book before. The call for us is to be faithful in our short span of living years in handing down the faith. What a responsibility! And What a blessing!

What books do you have that are all marked up by loved ones gone before? Bibles or hymnals or devotional books? Find them, and hold them, and connect with whoever held it before — and be strengthened to keep the faith, and pass it on!

Peter Hawkinson

Here it is February 21, and it’s sixty degrees outside! What a mild winter it’s been, so much so that the creation seems a bit fooled. Early this afternoon I raced home to get a little bit of the warm air and walk bear at the same time. He seemed to sniff with extra vigor, making me wonder if some of the spring smells are cutting loose already.

Just before we made it back home, in a neighbors yard he and I saw a yellow winter spark of ground cover that seemed in every way to jump out at us whose eyes have been now for while formed by winter’s gray. Bear barked at it, our toward it, as if to say “Wow! Look at that!” Then he wandered over and greeted the color in a whole other way. I’ll leave it to your imagination.

I’m sure that by now you’re tired of hearing me pine about winter and my longing for spring’s light, and summer’s warmth, and autumn’s colored lingering. Winter, meh. I will rejoice greatly when we get to March 9th and spring ahead! I will gladly endure the seasonal allergies that hit me from Memorial Day until mid-July. And I won’t complain a bit when hot and sticky August Melts me. Can’t get here soon enough.

In the meantime, creation signals spring’s soon coming. Yellow winter sparks say something, along with bird choirs and trees mistakenly budding. Perennials just can’t quite wait. and spring training is in fact under way! I know, too, that these warm winters as delicious as they are find creation giving us a warning cry. Our planet is warming up too much and too quick. We must be aware and concerned about how to help our planet heal.

But now, just for today, I open my window and let the fresh air blow into my life’s stale space. And I’m reminded still in mid-winter of the blessed days to come, even while my snowblower will still sit at the ready, and even though those bright yellow flowers will likely get buried under fresh snow before too long.

And I’m thinking about how even during lent we are still easter people, how stark repentant days give us reminders of all that’s yet to be. Consider The Hymn, “In the Bulb There Is a Flower” (Covenant Hymnal 752):

In the bulb there is a flower, in the seed, an apple tree; in cocoons, a hidden promise, butterflies will soon be free! In the cold and snow of winter there’s a spring that waits to be, unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

Today, I saw it…a little. Life, relentlessly, will come again!

Love From Here

Peter Hawkinson

This morning I was writing in my journal and in an effort to tie together my thoughts I wrote, “And so it goes”. I caught myself laughing a bit in the understanding that I didn’t come to that phrase randomly. And though Billy Joel sings a wonderful song by that name, that’d not where I caught on to the phrase. No, as I write it, and read it on the page, I can hear my grandfather Eric’s voice, and see his penmanship.

“And so it goes” was by far his life’s most famous phrase, spoken with just a hint of his childhood Swedish lilt, and written in at least half of his “Letters to God”, which were his own journal entries over decades of time.

I’m reflecting on this morning of that little phrase which for me is strong and settling. Not a denial of the ups and downs of life or its expressed journey, and not meaning to shut down the thought process, the saying seems to welcome and accept life as it is. It is what it is. Things are as they are. And so it goes. Looking across the room at the last picture I have with Eric before his death in 1984, I realize that there’s so many things I wished I would have asked him about that weren’t on my mind as a twenty year old. His immigrant experience as a little boy, his combat in the Argonne of World War 1, His arrival on Foster Avenue and North Park College in 1918, his life in pastoral ministry. How I wish.

But I have never thought until today that I would have loved to hear his reflection on his summary life phrase, “And so it goes.” How did he come to it? why did it stay with him? And what does it mean for him? Someday soon in glory!

Beyond that I’m fascinated with how powerful genes are. Physical characteristics and Body movements, thought processes, and even uses of words and phrases seem to naturally be passed along without us even aware. My kids note how I rub my hands together in a certain way just like my dad did. The first time Bonnie met my brother Eric at the airport she knew him because of the way he walked. And today I wrote “And so it goes” before I reflected on it as an inherited gift.

On may days when feeling anxious or upset about some ministry something, when calling my dad, he’d say “Remember now, the Kingdom of God was around before you arrived, and it will be here after you’re gone.” In my earlier years I would take it as a rather harsh comeback, but by now in my life it’s a gift, an invitation to let go of the burdens I don’t need to carry. Even though dad’s been gone for 13 years, I still hear his voice and that word when I need to.

So I’m grateful for generational family sayings that live on. I wonder what mine are and will be. What gifts have you gotten, and what words will you leave behind?

And so it goes.

Peter Hawkinson