I’m at home this morning looking out my window and pondering the years. The village leaf pushers/catchers are hard at work as the massive locust tree in our front yard shed it’s little leaves. I’m collecting time, as it’s the twentieth autumn I have watched the world go by from this spot.

I remember the day that two new saplings, now forty feet tall, were planted across the street. All our neighbors around us have changed except for one. My kids have grown into adults. Two dogs have kept us alert and loved. Forties welcomed me here; sixties now carry the day.

Where does the time go?

It’s a good question for this week as we prepare for All-Saints Sunday as we come remembering those who have loved us and left us. I’m looking at a picture on the wall of my girls group-hugging my mom and dad with birthday candles glimmering at the photo’s bottom. It must have been about the time we moved onto Lockerbie Lane. It seems like yesterday! Yet it’s now been ten years since my mom’s death, and soon fifteen for dad. I’ll whisper their names come Sunday. I miss them so!

Yet as I treat the photo like an icon — just sit and gaze at it for awhile, and let the smiles and faces and voices come to life, it’s not sadness I feel, but joy, deep joy, for the wonder of life and the blessing of time and all that is has held for me. “The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places” Is how Psalm 16 puts it.

Life has been, is now, and will be a good gift as long as it lasts. That doesn’t mean it’s all good, all the time, every day. It does mean that my spirit is grateful this morning for my life’s journey and all the joy through it. I’m glad to rest here for awhile with a cup of coffee as Oliver carries on with his euphonium in the living room and Stina arrives home from a morning walk with bear. Life goes on. I’m so glad.

Love From Here!

Peter Hawkinson

A Song of Ascents. Of David.

O LORD, my heart is not lifted up, my eyes are not raised too high;

I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.

But I have calmed and quieted my soul,

like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like the weaned child that is with me.

O Israel, hope in the LORD from this time on and forevermore. (Psalm 131)

This psalm has become a favorite of mine for a few reasons.

First, it’s short and sweet, like most of the “Psalms of Ascent” (120-134) that ancient Israel would sing on the road to Jerusalem when festival times were nigh. There’s no way to Jerusalem except up! It’s short and sweet, easy to memorize and say or sing repeatedly. That’s good for the soul.

Second, there’s a delicious invitation to let go for a moment of those things out of my control: the great mysteries of life, the anxieties of unresolved situations, whatever it is that likes to keep me up at night. That’s an invitation I need to engage every day!

Third, there’s an image put to soul possibilities. And it’s something I see every day! A little child in its mother or father’s arms, having let go, exhausted, sound asleep, without any worry that they might be dropped, completely trusting and so at rest. I wonder, is it even possible that my soul, my spirit can find that space?

Which brings me to number 4! Contentment is so elusive for me! So deeply desired, but so elusive in this wide awake, non-stop world, with an ever-growing list of demands, and stresses and strains, and pains and sorrows and griefs and tragedies. And growing up from being a little child only increases this collective sense that life’s journey seems to conspire against a calm and quiet soul.

The soothing balm for David is that his hope is rooted in The LORD, the Living God, with a real history of saving, guiding presence, a heavy hand of mercy, and faithfulness to keep promises. No one knows this better than David!

It’s a song for the road toward Jerusalem, for the journey of life. David’s, Israel’s, yours and mine. Contentment comes not in more, but in letting go, giving up, and giving into the Living Presence of the God who loves. Memorize this little ditty. Sink it into your mind and heart. Say it like a breath prayer on your journey through life. And rest in the One who is holding onto you.

CONTENTMENT!

Peter Hawkinson

The late pastor and writer Eugene Peterson had a way with words, especially in his knack of helping us consider spiritual and theological words. In his book Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places: A Conversation in Spiritual Theology (Eerdmans, 2005), Peterson defines Theology as what we think about God, and Spirituality as the way we live with God. His whole long reflection is summed up in the sense that these two, theology and spirituality, are deeply and organically connected. Here is a great summary word: “The two terms ‘spirituality’ and ‘theology’ keep good company with one another. ‘Theology’ is the attention that we give to God, the effort we give to knowing God as revealed in the Holy Scriptures and in Jesus Christ. ‘Spiritual’ is the insistence that everything that God reveals of himself and his works is capable of being lived by ordinary men and women in their homes and workplaces. ‘Spiritual’ keeps ‘theology’ from degenerating into merely thinking and talking and writing about God at a distance. ‘Theology’ keeps ‘spiritual’ from becoming merely thinking and talking and writing about the feelings and thoughts one has about God. The two words need each other , for we know how easy it is for us to let our study of God (theology) get separated from the way we live; we also know how easy it is to let our desires to live whole and satisfying lives (spiritual lives) get disconnected from who God actually is and the ways God works among us.”

I’m intrigued by this kind of thinking about the importance of living with checks and balances, especially when it’s simpler and more efficient to choose one thing over another. Somehow, this keeps us balanced and healthy. Here I’m remembering my seminary Homiletics professor, Robert Hjelm. I don’t remember a whole lot of his instruction from thirty-five years ago, except that he hammered away on the deep connection between preaching and pastoral care. I can just hear him reminding us again and again that faithful preaching leads to abundant pastoral care opportunities and conversations, and that faithful pastoral care that tends to relationships leads to hunger for worship, and so the proclamation of good news. He was teaching us — some whose gifts and passions move toward the the pulpit, and some whose gifts and passions move toward visits and relationships — that our call as a parish pastor is to both, back and forth, rhythmically, all the time.

Finding and tending to these connected but different skills in whatever vocation or life experience we find ourselves in is healthy. Hard work to be sure not to jump fully into what we like to do most and let go of the other, but if we let the sages speak, worth the effort. Fruit bearing.

Jesus, surely the great sage of them all for we Christians, bought into this kind of thinking/doing connectedness. “Love God” he said, “and love your neighbor.” Surely he is saying that we are to be working at both, and that they circle back around to each other. The work of loving God pushes us toward our neighbor, and our experiences of loving our neighbors finds us running back to Jesus for more strength, more wisdom, and sometimes just the chance to share our thanks and praise.

Memory serving me right, it was St. Francis of Assisi who said, “Preach the gospel at all times. Use words if necessary.” Another sage to teach us.

What do you think?

Peter Hawkinson

Hello again friends! In light of last Sunday’s sermon, yesterday’s blog, and the ongoing immigration issues front and center in our country, and now in our own Chicagoland area, I have heard from a few of you about the need for further addressing of and reflection about questions like these biblically and theologically:

What about our laws? And what do we do with law breakers?

What about those who have entered our country illegally?

I will give some thoughts here. It goes without saying that I may be wrong, and so I am very grateful for the ongoing dialogue as we wrestle together with our faith and how our faith shapes our life — our thoughts, words, opinions and actions — as they take shape in the public square, the in the real world. It is healthy and critically important for us to dialogue together from a shared posture of the desire to learn and grow together.

Biblical Witness.

HEBREW SCRIPTURE

The Hebrew Scripture repeatedly reminds the Israelites of their own history as foreigners in Egypt to instill empathy for immigrants/refugees now living among them: “Do not mistreat or oppress a foreigner, for you were foreigners in Egypt.” (Ex. 22:21)

The Hebrew scripture roots the people in the action of love: “When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself. (Leviticus 19:33-34)

The Hebrew Scripture calls God’s people to provide for their needs: “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest. You shall not strip your vineyard bare, or gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard; you shall leave them for the poor and the alien: I am the LORD your God. (Leviticus 19:9-10)

The Hebrew Scripture calls for just treatment and advocacy: “Do not deprive a foreigner of justice; you shall not take a widow’s garment in pledge. Remember that you were a slave in Egypt and the Lord your God redeemed you from there; therefore I command you to do this.” (Deut. 24:17-18)

JESUS’ TEACHING AND THE NEW TESTAMENT

Jesus’ teaching and the New Testament reinforce and expand on the Hebrew scripture’s call to care for foreigners and strangers.

Welcoming the Stranger is welcoming Christ. “I was a stranger and you invited me in…whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” (Matthew 25)

Love your neighbor. Jesus expands the understanding of neighbor to mean anyone in need, regardless of nationality or background, and calls for merciful action toward them. (Good Samaritan, Luke 10:29-37).

Hospitality to Strangers. “Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. Remember those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them; those who are being tortured, as though you yourselves were being tortured.” (Hebrews 13:1-3)

BALANCING COMPASSION WITGH THE RULE OF LAW

Some interpretations of biblical texts have led to different perspectives on modern immigration laws:

Obeying the Government. “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities.” Romans 13:1-7 emphasizes that Christians should submit to governing authorities and obey the laws of the land. Some argue this includes immigration laws.

Prioritizing Mercy. Other biblical perspectives argue that a government’s responsibility to protect citizens and uphold laws must be balanced with God’s commands for justice and mercy toward vulnerable people.

MY THOUGHTS AS A CHRISTIAN AND AS AN AMERICAN CITIZEN

We are a nation of Immigrants and of laws. There is a common sense just now in our nation’s history that we face unprecedented immigration issues and work with an ongoing process and practice that is need of reform.

I am a Christian, seeking to follow Jesus, and attempting to seek first God’s Kingdom. As I think about immigration issues (or any other issue) I expect that in some ways God’s ways and Kingdom clash and are opposed to the ways of any earthly government or empire. So, naturally, there is always tension. How do I hold in tension the call to follow Jesus and seek after the Kingdom of God while at the same time seeking to be faithful as a supportive citizen of my country? Here are some of my thoughts just now:

My first and clear call is to love and care for all people as I encounter them. The clear drumbeat of scripture as I read it through the person of Jesus Christ and with the help of the Holy Spirit sets this agenda. Regardless of status, as a Jesus follower I must show compassion and concern for immigrants, refugees, and asylum seekers. I can only do this if I am in touch with my own history as an immigrant, which comes through my family journey two and three generations ago. At that time there was no “illegal” status. My own family came because of poverty, seeking religious freedom, and with an eye toward a hopeful future for their family. This is some the same for those coming now, especially from Central and South America, except that their situation is so much much more dire than was that of my family. This helps me understand, or at least have compassion for those here illegally according to our current laws.

Regarding the laws of my country, I must seek to obey and support them unless and until I am convinced that God and God’s Kingdom deems them unjust or inhumane in their lack of mercy and compassion. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Junior says “The church must be reminded that it is not the master or servant of the state, but rather the conscience of the state. It must be the guide and the critic of the state, and never its tool. If the church does not recapture its prophetic zeal, it will become and irrelevant social club without moral or spiritual authority.” Throughout it’s history the church has spoken out and sometimes even resisted (the mandate is non-violently) the unjust treatment of other human beings. This many Christians believe to be the case currently in new and exceedingly aggressive deportation efforts.

So our faith compels us to speak out. According to conservative estimates, 60 to 70% of those detained and arrested are not criminals, but contributing members of our society. Our constitution guarantees due process rights to “all persons” without qualification. This includes non-citizens, including undocumented immigrants, who are entitled to fair treatment under the law, which includes the right to defend themselves in court. Yet recent policy that is speeding up arrests and deportations is limiting and in many cases denying these folks this important right. Further, this due process is what can and will help us make our own national process more just and right. In this sense, we are breaking our own laws as we seek to root out those who we’ve deemed to have broken the law. What is not right or just is detaining and arresting individuals without warrants, and separating parents from each other and their children. We must do better!

There must be a better way. Here’s where we might come together if we have enough courage to seek a better, more humane way forward. As a pastor and theologian, I am moving out of my league here, but my questions:

How can we handle with care and compassion those immigrants presently among us without status? There must be some better way to identify a process whereby we could move folks in a more hopeful direction toward belonging, while we do diligence in terms of those meaning to cause harm to us as a nation. Instead of seeking to simply be rid of those who come desperately in search of a better life, how can we engage them with what the possibility of a future we now are experiencing? And how can we care for, love and welcome them into our lives and homes and churches in the meantime? We should seek to incorporate effectively those without status who are already here into our national life and put them on a hopeful journey toward citizenry. Maybe some sort of national mentor program that could match us up with those new to our land and journey with them in the process.

What would a fruitful immigration reform effort and initiative look like? For those who will continue to engage the possibilities of life in America, is there a more efficient and inviting process? A more bi-partisan approach to find again a hopeful spirit as reflected in the words noted on our Statue of Liberty: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” How can we return to seeing immigrants as people who bring life and energy to our American experiment, who add to our society and enrich our lives, and who we have so much to learn from? Again, what about asking us as citizens to get involved in the process relationally with others different and new.

SOME FINAL THOUGHTS

“Then Pharaoh commanded all his people, ‘Every boy that is born to the Hebrews you shall throw into the Nile, but you shall let every girl live.’ Now a man from the house of Levi went and married a Levite woman. The woman conceived and bore a son; and when she saw that he was a fine baby, she hid him three months. When she could hide him no longer she got a papyrus basket for him, and plastered it with bitumen and pitch; she put the child in it and placed it among the reeds on the banks of the river. His sister stood at a distance, to see what would happen to him.” (Exodus 1:22-2:4).

In many ways this is the plight of those who have made it here into our country. They walk and walk at risk to their own lives because their lives are at risk. They face oppression, starvation, and have lost hope for the future. Imagine what that moment must have been like for Moses’ mother, Jochebed, to push that basket out into the river’s current, and for Moses’ sister Miriam to linger and watch what would happen to him.

“The daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe at the river, while her attendants walked beside the river. She saw the basket among the reeds and sent her maid to bring it. When she opened it, she saw the child. He was crying, and she took pity on him.”

Threatening to take the metaphor too far, we are in the powerful and privileged position. In the live moment we can look into the eyes of the world, we can “see” others, and in so doing if we see with God’s eyes take pity, lit. have compassion on those who appear with their lives and futures hanging in the balance. The love of Jesus and the Spirit of God have equipped us well for this work.

Getting back to my grandmother’s garden, it’s quite easy to create a common space there among friends very much alike. Much more challenging in matters we are engaging these days. Yet for me it remains my hope, maybe too naive, for this aching world. Love of neighbor. The image of God in every person. This is the only way forward as I see it.

Love from Here

Peter Hawkinson

(This is such important discussion! My deepest prayer is for us to continue to engage with each other. Please receive this reflection as such. Maybe we could gather an interested group for more sharing, listening, and prayer?)

He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across and eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. He only says, “Good fences make good neighbors.” Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder if I could put a notion in his head: Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it where there are cows? But here there are no cows. (Robert Frost, Mending Wall, 1914)

“For Christ is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.” (Ephesians 2:14)

I am trying one of those “read the bible in a year” programs on my phone’s bible app. We’ll see how it goes. I have a long somewhat resistant and neglectful history of not sticking with devotional projects like this. But my intentions, I think, are good. I need to find and stay in my core narrative in unsettling times. We’ll see.

What comes to me this morning is the grand sway of Ephesians chapter 2. “You are saved by grace through faith” is the most famous part, and for good reason! But this morning what catches my eye is the image that comes later, of Jesus breaking down the dividing walls we have built up and are always building as humankind.

Robert Frost, in his famous poem, Mending Wall coined the phrase “Good fences make good neighbors”, and then asks why, why is that so. We have turned this phrase into a kind of wisdom saying, a truth to live by, which is exactly the opposite of it’s intent in the poem, where he is meeting a neighbor in the spring to pick up stones to strengthen, to reinforce their divide. It is the neighbor who, seemingly excited about the project, keeps repeating that “Good fences make good neighbors.” It is the poet who is asking why that is so.

I grew up in a world of fences, of clear borders across my urban landscape. There were no unclear land-lines, except in my grandparents backyard. I sat with my grandfather one day on his back porch watching a few North Park College football players sledge hammer down a perfectly good back yard fence as my grandmother Lydia and her neighbor Signe watched with glasses of lemonade at the ready. My grandfather trembled with long term effects of Parkinson’s disease, and I could not have been more than eight years old. Of course I asked him why they were tearing down the fence, and he told me that Lydia and Signe wanted to share a garden together. They already each had their own — so much Rhubarb I remember, and Lavender, bright perennial Day Lillies and Roses, with Impatiens lining the borders everywhere. My grandmother had brought back ferns from the cabin in Wisconsin, and they flourished in the shade. Vegetables soaked in the sunshine, soon to appear as salads and on dinner plates.

Their impulse was strange and beautiful for me, how they went to all this extra work to tear down their borders so that their growing gardens could overflow, meld together, and so that they could share life together out there. Some good years followed before Signe Bennett died, and not long after Lydia, and eventually of course, new owners appeared in both houses, and it was clear that a first primary task was the building of a fence. Security improved. Privacy returned. Good fences make good neighbors. Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder if I could put a notion in his head: Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it where there are cows? But here there are no cows.”

The question looms, ever achingly alive in our current human moment, in Israel/Palestine and Russia/Ukraine as wars rage hoping to change borders forever. In our own country borders issues spill over into people issues. Such is the way of the world, we learn. Good fences do make good neighbors.

But as people belonging to Christ Jesus, who has and is forever breaking down the dividing walls between us, new hopeful possibilities for peace and neighborliness emerge as we ask, “Why do they make good neighbors?” Such is the holy question the Church is called to ask repeatedly, prophetically.

The day I watched that fence come down I saw the Kingdom of God come. May it happen again and again, even in much much more complicated circumstances.

Love From Here

Peter Hawkinson

The apostles then rendezvoused with Jesus and reported on all that they had done and taught. Jesus said, “Come off by yourselves; let’s take a break and get a little rest.” For there was constant coming and going. They didn’t even have time to eat. (Mark 6:31, The Message)

Recently I made the choice to leave all social media platforms, at least for now and maybe for good. I am encouraging you to do the same for this season of our collective cultural communal life. I love the words of Jesus hear to his disciples as The Message translation gives them: “Let’s take a break and get a little rest.” We might call it a self-imposed time out. Seems like a healthy step for us.

I love all the good things that facebook, instagram, and all the rest of the social media sites have to offer us — friend and family updates with pictures, sharing of life experiences, turbo birthday greetings, wonderful personal reflections and fruitful and constructive dialog around complex issues to name just a few.

But increasingly I sense that what sociological researchers have long been warning us about is coming to bear — that social media is making us more angry and that the echo chambers we find and groove with only make us more dangerously angry. It seems that every almost-daily act of mass violence and increasing acts of domestic terror are fueled by a hatred that social media finds a way of fanning into flame. Research consistently and definitively shows that rates of anxiety, depression, and addiction have increased exponentially for those who are regular social media users. And I am inundated by pastoral conversations with friends who have or are losing primary relationships largely because of hurtful communications on social media.

As I reflected above, there are wonderful blessings that social media offers us. And one thing is for sure, that social media is here to stay, and so we have to find ways to use this resource wisely and for good.

But for now, it seems to me like it would be a good spiritual discipline for us collectively to “take a little break and rest awhile.” Would you consider joining me in this, and maybe consider what else we might give our time and energy to? Acts of service, compassion, and kindness like warm cookies for a neighbor’s door, stocking shelves at the friendship center, or driving a senior in need to doctor appointments? Increased times of reading and quiet reflection outside our echo chamber, especially devotional in nature? More periodic moments for prayer? And a commitment to move toward our opposite, literally committing ourselves to face to face conversations over coffee or while breaking bread together?

One more word. For those of you who are not social media users, you also have a step to take. How about a time out from whatever is your preferred TV news channel that represents your own echo chamber? How about taking in no more than an hour of local and national news and instead going for a walk or a bike ride, working a puzzle or having brunch with a friend?

Think and pray about it. I’d love to share a conversation if you’d like. Let’s take a little break and get some rest.

Love From Here

Peter Hawkinson

Rummage — an unsytematic and untidy search through a mass or receptacle.

Well, here we are. It’s rummage sale week! The evidence is that between yesterday noon and my arrival this morning it’s not only the gym that’s filled, but now the hallways and the narthex too! The tentacled creep of our stuff seems officially out of control.

I’m not down about it. Not at all! It’s a wonderful chaos, and a minor miracle to watch how we come together to get from here to 8 a.m. Saturday morning when we open the gym doors and the line stretching out to the parking lot rushes in. You should be here then. It’s quite a wild and wonderful moment.

I’m thinking about three things just now.

The first is, of course, our belongings. Clothes, dishes, end tables, Christmas ornaments, books, golf clubs and mostly expired electronics. We might think most of what we see borders on a word that begins with “J”, but if we think a bit more, we might reflect on how everything we bring comes with a story, a history, many holy moments. Who was sitting around the table and eating off these plates when life decisions were made? That Christmas ornament, whose hands placed it on the tree who is no longer with us at Yuletide? And whose hands gripped these clubs, and what legendary (and appropriately embellished) shot came from them? As we rifle through our clutter and make decisions about what to bring, what to let go of, all kinds of memories and experiences come alive again.

The second is who will come and rummage through all that we organize, and find what they feel are new treasures to travel through life with them. These things we gather together and bring will be on the move to dorm rooms and crawl spaces and new dinner tables and golf fairways and christmas trees. What are the stories of those who will soon stand in line, the hopes and sorrows that those who come through the doors bring with them?

Finally, For all the exhaustion that the rummage sale brings, it is beautiful to watch the way we come together as a community to see it through, surely more than at any other time during the year. In this sense, it’s a holy week all its own, as we encourage, and strengthen each other and work together in mission.

Don’t miss it! Come this week sometime, morning, noon or night, and meet some new friends, and fold some clothes or price some wares. And come on Saturday as we welcome friends from the community who are searching for all kinds of things. Let’s meet them, and welcome them into our community.

Rummage sale week reminds us of all that is holy that is at work in all that is mundane. Isn’t it true?

Love from here!

Peter Hawkinson

Here is a QR code you can access to sign up and volunteer.

As another program year at church begins (my fourth with all of you, I’m so grateful), youth group is back & so is one of the most essential parts of it… youth group games! 

I think youth group games are largely misunderstood– sometimes by students themselves, but more often maybe by the wider Church who may view this time spent at youth group as just a ploy to make sure that kids want to come back, so that they’ll invite friends, or so that they’ll burn some energy before we get to the “important”  part of the night: the lesson. And while those reasons I just mentioned are perhaps a part of the equation, they are miniscule in comparison to the real reason which is, we all need to play! 

The fun, silly, creative, and free parts of all of us suddenly become unlocked when we allow ourselves time to play, and often even more so, when we get a chance to have fun & laugh together. I believe wholeheartedly that God has instilled a need and desire for play and for fun in all of us. It is extremely honoring to God then, to engage with and not deny that part of ourselves that really could use a good laugh, a game, and some silly energy expressed. This is why we play games at youth group, so that our students know there are many ways to bring praise to God, including playing, being our whole selves, being who God made us to be, and encouraging that in one another too. The cherry on top is, when our need to play and have fun is met, I think we are all then open enough to interact with other more honest and alive parts of ourselves, often prerequisites to truly engaging deeply with God. 

So this year, I’m so excited to play some youth group games– from empire to globular to trashketball to goo. And while if you’re reading this you’re most likely not a youth group student, I’m wondering if you might feel invited to engage in regular rhythms of play too, much like we do each week together at youth group. Whether it’s doing a puzzle, playing a board game with your family or friends, dusting off that hobby, reconnecting with something you used to love to do as a kid (that spoiler, you likely still love to do!), or joining us at church for our Wednesday game nights once a month, or volleyball on Mondays, or basketball on Tuesdays. Play is a spiritual discipline and we are never going to grow out of needing it. 

Ecclesiastes tells us there is a time for every activity under heaven… a time to cry and a time to laugh, a time to grieve and a time to dance. So would you make time to play this season? And would you be open to how God might just meet you there? 

With love,

Pastor Lynnea

I’m thinking today, as I do from time to time, about my childhood home’s telephone. It hung on the wall in the central hallway of our Chicago apartment, had an exceedingly long cord, was banana yellow in color, and when it rang someone had to come running. I can still see the sticky note pad where the “call so and so” messages were left on the wall. There were between 4 and 6 of us in the house through all my growing up years, and we managed just fine with that one phone, though nowadays I get a bit nervous just thinking about it. No caller ID? No Voicemail? No texts, and no smart qualities? No privacy for a conversation? How in the world did we survive?

Yet I must admit that I have nostalgic, almost romantic notions too about that hallway phone and the way our communications worked back then. Sometimes it became easier to just walk down the street and knock on someone’s door than wait for them to call back. Letter writing was still an art. Time had a much more expansive quality to it than now it does when instant availability and quick response is a cultural expectation. You know all the challenges of the smartphones we have and use these days, that come along with the many positives.

I find that I respond to the dings and the pings that come like a Pavlovian dog salivating at the sound of the bell associated with food. A good friend recently pointed this out to me, and it was something I needed to hear even though I didn’t want to. It’s such a tricky wicket, because with a smartphone comes this expectation that we are always on call, ever available, and so it becomes necessary to multi-task constantly, rendering us unable to be fully present wherever we are, whatever we’re doing. What to do?

This all comes to mind for me — the old yellow hallway phone and the one in my pocket now — and all our human progress, for better and for worse — and it’s affect on our souls, because on my way to the office this morning for some reason the simple invitation that Jesus gave to his disciples came into my mind:

“Come off by yourselves. Let’s take a break and get a little rest.” (Mark 6:31, the Message)

For Jesus and the disciples, the heat is on. Foreboding news of the beheading of John the Baptist has come. Who will be next? And there’s a crowd of 5000 sitting on the hillside, waiting for Jesus to say something, and the hour is getting late, toward supper time.

“For there was constant coming and going. They didn’t even have time to eat.” (Mark 6:32)

Hence the dilemma. I wonder to what degree I/we need our sabbath rest now more than ever, and how do I/we work at that when the phone keeps chirping and social media is calling us and we know that maybe not 5000, but 4 or 5 folks at least are waiting for our response? I have heard somewhere that there’s a movement back toward corded phones, and I wonder if this is an attempt to re-order life’s rhythm to some degree.

I have no easy answer to all of this, and I love life as it is these busy days! The blessings and the challenges of life always go together. What do you think?

Love From Here

Peter Hawkinson

(Full disclosure, during the writing of this blog I heard from and responded to 5 emails and 4 text messages, got three advertisements and checked the cubs schedule. Just sayin!)

(Guest blogger this week is Royce Eckhardt)

Whenever the people of faith gather in any time or place to celebrate the mighty acts of God, they invariably sing—from the OT tabernacle and temple, to the early Christians, through the Medieval monasteries, the Reformation, to this very day. St. Paul tells us that when Christians gather, they bring a lesson, a prophecy, an interpretation, a hymn (I Cor. 14:26). We sing what we believe and believe what we sing.

One who has not been in church for most of a lifetime, but who was brought up in the nurture of the church as a child will remember some hymns and songs, although everything else about church life may be forgotten.  When all the sermons, the conferences, and Bible studies had faded from memory, the hymns we have learned many, many years ago are likely still to be in our memory banks.  It goes that deep.  Faith lives in song; song nurtures faith.

The basic beliefs and doctrinal understanding of most Christians have been shaped more by the hymns they have learned than, perhaps, by the preaching they have heard or the Bible studies attended. A seminary professor recently wrote: “Music has shaped my faith in childhood songs, tunes and texts from…hymnody of every time and place…I have sung my way into faith.  The preface to the United Methodist Hymnal states, “Next to the Bible, our hymnals have been our most formative resource.

Karl Barth, the renowned Swiss theologian, stated: The praise of God [in the community]…seeks to be expressed, to well up and be sung communally.  The Christian community sings…. from inner necessity it sings.  ….The praise of God which finds its concrete culmination in the singing of the community is one of the indispensable basic forms of the ministry of the [Christian] community.

German martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer gave us a wonderful insight into the congregational singing of psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs.  He said, “It is the voice of the church that is heard in our singing. It is not you that sings, it is the church that is singing, and you, as a member . . . may share in its song. Thus all singing together that is right must serve to widen our spiritual horizon, make us see our little company as a member of the great Christian church on earth, and help us willingly and gladly to join our singing, be it feeble or good, to the song of the church.”

Hymn singing might be one of last places in our culture where people sing together, and perhaps the only place where there is intergenerational community singing.

That’s why we sing in church—it is an important part of our spiritual formation and nurture and a most significant part of our communal Christian experience.

Royce Eckhardt