Recharging Your Batteries?

In, The Last Lecture, Randy Pausch shares with the world the challenges and blessings of being a husband, parent, and professor while battling pancreatic cancer.

He offers the following insights that speak to me in simple, yet significant ways. If you are reading this, my prayer is that these words are life-giving to you.

"...the best caregiving advice we've ever heard comes from flight attendants: 'Put on your own oxygen mask before assisting others'....there's nothing weak or selfish about taking some fraction of your day to be alone, recharging your batteries." pp. 200-201

Professor Pausch is on to something significant. I wonder how many times I've rushed off to rescue someone who was struggling to breathe without making sure I had an adequate supplyof oxygen myself ? The truth be known - way too many times. A friend of mine from Australia phrases it this way, "You don't need a pastor who can't waste away an hour with God on a regular basis!"

Last week clergy from across the Raleigh District gathered @ Camp Chestnut Ridge for a Day Apart. Many who participated have since commented that something about that day was life-giving. I really think it had very little to do with the agenda for the day, and quite a bit to do with the day being the agenda. We made ourselves available - at God's bidding - to God - and one another and God did all the rest.

Jesus made it a regular practice to come away from the crowds and even the inner circle of disciples to make himself available to God. I wonder what makes me think that I can somehow come up with a better model than this? Pastors often feel the weight of expectation imposed upon us. Those expectations often come from others, or even worse - from ourselves! My prayer for the flock to whom I belong is that we would grow more comfortable with solitude, and disciplined in regularly wasting away an hour with God.

Still In ONE Peace,

Jon(the methodist)

An Altitude Adjustment

So Wednesday we actually were given the gift of some free time. I've been blessed this week to join other recently appointed district superintendents from across the United States in a time of connecting and training. And one of our family resides outside the continental states - Bro James from Uganda on the continent of Africa.

But what I have found is that this has also been a time of inspiration - every bit as much as it has been equipping. Dr. Marcia McPhee has been our worship designer/leader each morning and that has been a treat too! To raise my voice in praise of the One God each morning with new-found-friends at the table is a gift as well. New friends from places like Fargo and Albuquerque, Fort Smith, Battle Creek , Beaumont and Thomasville.

Well, as I noted earlier - Wednesday afternoon was "free time"; nothing to learn, no schedule to keep - no "best practices" to try and absorb. So I took myself away from Junaluska for a few hours. The district Optima (that's actually my Kia four-door) aided part of my journey. On the way there was a serendipitous stop at a less-than-appealing convenience store where a conversation ensued with the elderly owner He became my spiritual director for the afternoon as he deployed me to the nearby Parkway, and to a place on the Parkway in particular: Water Rock Knob.

Armed only with my Diet Sundrop and an adventurous spirit, I returned to the car and soon found myself maneuvering the curves of the Blue Ridge. There were tempting vistas just outside the passenger side window, but the desire to live kept my white-knuckled hands firmly attached to the steering wheel. Soon I arrived at the destination described earlier by my spiritual director;a place he told me would reveal God's handiwork. The sign in the parking area noted the elevation at that point was a mere 6200 feet above sea level. Another sign noted my intended destination as being only a half-mile more........on foot! Water Rock Knob it was named.

So I huffed and I puffed, but by the time I arrived there were no houses to blow down. There were flowering plants and the almost deafening buzzing of bees - everywhere. Now I know where Raleigh's bee population has gone. They must be Methodist bees because they're all in the mountains in the summer! And then the place promised became the place experienced. As they say the climb was worth the agony.

Somewhere above 6200 ft the air was a bit more thin, or else I'm getting older. But from my vista I could see Maggie Valley and Cataloochee(sp) in the background. There, as promised I got a bird's-eye-view of God's handiwork. And there with God's brush strokes a parable of sorts unfolded for the plebe DS........The expanse of green living trees is evident - everywhere, but of course my eye was drawn to the one dead tree, which dominated the landscape from my perch at the time. As a forest ranger taught me years ago, when trees stop producing rings - they die. And yet, the faithful God - all the while - is busy multiplying a sea of green remnant. Lesson taken, Lord! Old Saint Francis was right. "It is in dieing that we are born to eternal life! Up and over and out.....

Jon(the Methodist)

The Results Of Your MRI Are In!

By now most of us have probably read or seen some kind of report about the woman from suburban Pittsburgh who says that the recent MRI she received at a local hospital looks quite a bit like the crucified Christ. Her own description of the image goes like this:

"You could actually see the hands. They look like they're nailed on the cross. You can see the body. It's in a straight line and then you see his feet, they look like they're together, and the knees are bent."

Admittedly, for many of us, this sort of thing is quick to dismiss, like the grilled cheese sandwich with Jesus' face on it, or a weeping statue of Mary. When asked if the image of Jesus has changed her life, she replied:

"I can't be swayed by a picture. My neck does feel better. I don't know if that was Jesus or physical therapy."

Maybe she has summed up what the Apostle Paul referred to when he said, "Great indeed is the mystery of our faith." Hopefully, we can differentiate physical therapy from Jesus. It's not that Jesus doesn't possess incredible abilities over the human body (see Matthew, Mark, Luke and John), but is that all Jesus does? Is he just the cosmic faith-healer, the teller who gives out blessings at the counter of God's Bank like toasters were once distributed to new customers at the Savings and Loan? Or is he much more?????

MRIs aren't just for people with bad backs. Leonard Sweet says that the Church of Jesus Christ needs and MRI; an infusion of the:

Missional.........Relational.........Incarnational........

spirit we witness in Jesus. While Jesus didn't believe that everything real could be seen, ("blessed are those who have not seen and yet, believe), he also noted that, ("a tree is known by its fruit.") So if God calls the Church into the examination room where MRIs are performed, what is going to show up on the imagery of the scan? Will it depict us as missional, relational, incarnational communities where faith is born and takes flight? Or will the test display us as fraudulent imposters, con artists adept at shaping the picture to appear the way we want others to see us, rather than an accurate depiction of who we are?

Way back in the last millennium the Raleigh District was blessed with a leader who happened to serve among us as a superintendent on his way to becoming a bishop. Some of you remember him well; a man with a dazzling smile and an an infectious laugh. His name was Dr. Joseph B. Bethea, known affectionately to many as "Joe". I remember how "Joe" moved among the churches of our district one year in particular during the Charge Conference season. The best way I can describe the way he carried himself is with the countenance of a wise and all-knowing Cheshire Cat. He would begin the Charge Conferences saying something like: "I am 'The Doctor' and I'm here to give you your annual check up!" He would pause for a few moments - then a smile would spread all the way across his face, soon thereafter followed by his trademark laugh, which filled the entire room.

The test results aren't yet received. The question remains to be answered:

Is Jesus showing up in our MRI????

Singer song-writer John Michael Talbot, posed this question in a similar way many years ago:

"As my lips so often speak the name of Jesus, will the canvass hold his image within me?"

By God's Grace....may it be so.

Jon(the methodist)

IT'S A BOY!

Like Abraham and Sarah we welcomed our new arrival on Tuesday of this week. None of the neighbors knew about this. If so, they probably would have erected one of those quirky wooden storks in our front yard like the astronauts who planted the American flag on the surface of the moon back in 69. This whole business caught us a bit by surprise. It only dates back to Pentecost Sunday of this year. My wife had done an excellent job keeping all of this a secret - at least from me.

We were nearing the benediction of our 3rd ever Spirit Fest celebration on the front lawn of Benson Memorial UMC when the Staff-Parish Relations Chair (Vicki) stepped up front to borrow the microphone. She said she had an important announcement to make. As her announcement unfolded various message-partners stepped up front, bearing gifts from afar. Well, maybe that's a bit too dramatic. There are places in NC where "gifts from afar" could just be the local volunteer firemen handing out tootsie rolls for a small donation in front of the Food Lion. Anyway, I digress.

The announcement culminated when my wife and daughters were asked to come up front and stand next to me. Then from the side wings another person came forward carrying a large piece of foam core (rectangular) with words printed across the face. That's when I discovered we were expecting for the first time. There's nothing like being surprised in front of 300+ friends who are hanging on your every word. There in front of God and everyone, beneath the shade of a massive water oak as old as Teddy Roosevelt, the news was delivered. I took a deep breath, and then I melted like a snow cone in an Arizona parking lot in July. I reverted to my M.O. and blubbered and sniffled in true Strother fashion.

So on Tuesday I brought our new arrival home. Mom is doing fine, and adjusting to living with a husband who now has another marvelous distraction, (as if I didn't already have enough). For 23 years humans of the female variety have ruled the roost in the Strother cave. Year after year, birth after birth, the doctors have always said the same thing in the delivery room: "Its a girl!" But Tuesday all that changed when I brought Taylor home for the first time. Now - finally - I have a sympathizer. Perhaps, just maybe the tide is about to turn.

So last night I found myself up late at night - singing softly to a new arrival while other members of the family rested quietly in their second-floor beds. I didn't mind this at all. Maybe it was the adrenalin of going through this unexpected parenthood for a fourth time. Or perhaps I was enjoying the time alone with our new bundle of joy. Eventually I tucked Taylor in and made my way upstairs to join the rest of my slumbering familia. Life is good..... Oh, for those who are interested....take a look at our new symphonic miracle.......Taylor Strother......

Still In ONE Peace,

Jon (the methodist)

Who Are You Hitched To?

The other day on my way to work I saw something I'd never noticed before. Heading toward the office in the ITB (that’s inside the beltline for non-Raleigh-ites) traveling on Downtown Blvd, I noticed this string of cabooses linked one to the other on a hill behind some warehouses. Is the plural of caboose actually cabooses or is it caboosi? Well I skipped the Wade Ave exit ( the Methodist Building is close by) and drove to the next exit at Peace St. Then I did a 180 and got back on Capital and restarted my quest to find the mysterious train cars.

Suddenly they reappeared, so I drove around behind a warehouse, parked the car and got out @ the end of a deserted railroad track. I walked the abandoned track until I was close enough to snap a picture with my blackberry. In total, eight cars were there – resting quietly. They were joined together - all the same kind of train car, with no engine in sight. I was all alone. Weeds and kudzu were my only witnesses other than God.

As I was snapping the photos I heard the rumbling of train engines coming from another parallel track behind me - just beyond the trees. The whole thing seemed/seems surreal and parabolic now that I pause to reflect. A string of mobile resting places linked together on a track amputated from the mainline without the needed power to go anywhere.

And so it is for all who attempt to experience LIFE apart from Christ. As Jesus reminded us almost 2K previous, “I am the vine…You are the branches….Apart from me you can do nothing.” Life without Christ at the center is akin to linking oneself to a string of train cars, none of which is empowered to go anywhere. It makes me stop and wonder, Am I intentionally staying connected to the Engine and traveling where the open tracks lead? Or am I prone to hitch to any old box car and content to waste away on the deserted side-tracks which are so prevalent. Who knows? This may have been a burning bush, well burning caboose……..

In Christ.
Jon(the Methodist)

Getting in Shape

Writing on my blog seems almost foreign to me at the moment. After all, the last time I posted anything was back in April....I think? But in the midst of change and transition I am climbing back in the saddle again. Here goes.......................

Something I enjoy doing at any opportunity is walking barefoot down any stretch of beach. Over the years those strolls have often been beside the nearby Atlantic. Yet, there have been opportunities to walk by the Agean Sea, the Mediterranean, and by the Pacific waters lapping at the shoreline in Manly Beach (Sydney, Australia) In each instance there has been a profound sense of my smallness and God's greatness. Each shell investigated carries with it an untold story of change and transition. And so today, I am reminded of the words from Terry Talbot's song, "Potter's Clay".

I'm like a stone thrown through the waves,

I'm falling......And the waves all mold me

as they may.....To be unborn, and then to

hear the callin', that I'm still....still the

Potter's clay.

Following just such a stroll yesterday morning, I was nourished in spirit by the words of Reuben Job. Perhaps these words will speak to someone else as well.

Conversion is a partnership project. We cannot transform ourselves, and God does not transform us against our wishes. However, once we invite God's transforming presence into our lives, the necessary power to change comes with the transforming presence.....We cannot know what God has in store for us until we begin to live in harmony and companionship with God.....The important thing is inviting God to be the master potter in our lives. We may not know what the end product will be, but we do know that it will be good when we permit God to be the potter and we agree to be the malleable clay.

Here's to LIFE shaped by the Hands of the Master Potter......and to willing clay.

Still In ONE Peace,

Jon(the methodist)

Do Not Hold On To Me?

Jesus said, "Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet returned to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, 'I am returning to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.' " (John 20:17 NIV)

One of my favorite songs to sing is Steven Curtis Chapman's "Hold On To Jesus". The words of the chorus are echoed throughout the song. I will hold on to the hand of my Savior. And I will hold on with all of my might. I will hold loosely to things that are fleeting, and hold on to Jesus, I will hold on to Jesus for life.....

While I believe that I understand what Chapman is trying to say in this song, it seems to stand

in stark contrast to Jesus' admonition to Mary at the garden tomb. For Chapman, "holding on

to Jesus" speaks of a devotion; a single-minded dedication through which a person decides to follow Jesus no matter what the circumstances of life may be, or the costs associated with that decision. Maybe this is why Jesus' words to Mary have always seemed to be a bit odd to me. After all, isn't this what our lives are meant to be: - devoted - committed - sold out lock-stock-and-barrel to Jesus?? If we can't hold on to Jesus just who, or what are we to cling to?

Author and preacher, Barbara Brown Taylor has helped to lift the veil of unknowing a bit for me in the following word.

The only thing we cannot do is hold on to him (Jesus). He has asked us please not to do that, because he knows that all in all we would rather keep him with us where we are than let him take us where he is going. Better we should let him hold on to us, perhaps. Better we should let him take us into the white hot presence of God, who is not behind us but ahead of us, every step of the way.

I am asking God to help me learn the power of letting Jesus take hold of me; to help me by the

power of the same Spirit evident in Jesus to surrender my plans to His plans. I am trusting that

God will honor this prayer, and teach me the life-giving strength that comes to those who learn

how to get their backsides out of the captain's chair and discover the beauty of a seat in "coach".

Still In ONE Peace,

Jon(the methodist)