My Mother's Eyes

That's my mother in the top third of the picture, I'd guess at about 15 years old. She was a natural beauty, and I think my older daughter looks a lot like her.

My mother would have turned 60 this past Monday. I say "would have" because she died at 50, back in 2001. While others were enjoying MLK Day in their own good ways, I was thinking a lot about "Mama."

Mid-afternoon I picked up the phone and called someone who knew her long before I did: her mother. Like others her age, Grandma rambles and her memories are sometimes disjointed. We talked for more than half an hour, and about half way through I asked, "Grandma, wouldn't today have been Mama's birthday?"

"Well, yes," she said like someone who'd been reminded they ought to turn the tea kettle off before the house burns down. She got silent for a moment and I fought the urge to fill the void. When she finally spoke it was like someone gathering items from around the house to be put away at the end of the day.

"It's the worst thing in the world to bury your child. God didn't intend it that way. God wants us to be buried by our children." The words were smooth, like some worry stone you've been carrying in your pocket for a very long time, the kind you rub on when you need to fret. Clearly, she'd been rubbing on this idea for a long time, turning it over and over and over in her mind.

She put them in the air with her Carolina drawl, but those worry stone words were heavy and they thudded right through the phone. They just sat out there between us, there on the ground like something simple and obvious. LIke "Look at that tire, it's flat." Or, "I think the chicken's done, let's eat." The words are true, but they didn't really reveal any great truth.

"Yeah," I said softly. I didn't want to stop her from talking because I wanted her to say more. I wanted her to tell me some wonderful memory about my Mama as a child. Like maybe how she was really good at her times tables when she was only 7, or that her hair was thick and dark the day she was born.

Nothing followed.

So I filled the silence with another "yeah," my voice trailing off.

Maybe it's senility, maybe it's her meds for depression, or maybe she just can't go there. Or doesn't want to. Either way, I figure she's had a pretty hard life and nobody should push her into remembering things she doesn't want to deal with.

Before too many more milliseconds, she moved on to talk about my sister. She has three stories about my sister. They're pretty funny stories, but I've heard them all before. Every time I call her, in fact. Along with the "have you heard from your sister?" questions. I artfully dodge them, in the same way she doesn't talk about my mom. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

So I contemplated my mom on Monday with my own memories.

Don't feel sorry for me, though. I'm a realistic person with an honest memory about who she was. She had her fair share of problems, and they got carried into all her relationships in one twisted way or another. One of her problems was chronic pain. She took a lot of prescription meds for that. Some of them weren't hers.

Another problem was some form of mental illness that, to my knowledge, never got accurately diagnosed. If I was the speculating type, I'd tell you she could have been bipolar or maybe had borderline personality disorder. Who knows? It's been almost ten years after her death, why worry about it? Maybe I worry about because some days I wonder if I'm on a manic high or a depressive low. Perhaps you've been there, wondering if you're just a little "too creative" or your thinking has become too expansive. Such speculation about my own mental health doesn't seem to be very healthy, however, so I try not to linger there any longer than necessary. And remembering all her faults doesn't much help me these days.

Instead, I've tried to draw some good from her life. She did, after all, love my father, carry me in her womb, bear me into the world, and nurture me the best she could. It wasn't always great, but between my dad, God, and plenty of other good people, I've always had more than I needed of everything important. My mama gave me some great things and not all of them were what you'd call grace gifts.

• I remember that she made sure I got piano lessons and a love for music. I hated it when she made me practice, but now I'm glad she did.
• She took me to see Alabama, my first concert of any kind. And Charlie Daniels opened for them.
• She took me to see all my grandparents and family, and to my knowledge never did anything to come between me and her in-laws.
• She made me pick peas in the garden in the middle of the hot humid North Carolina summer.
• I saw her start a fight with her brother and a sister by clocking them with rotten tomatoes when no one else was looking.
• Her Sunday roast could have been a lethal weapon, but I'd pay a pretty penny for some of her country style steak.
• Our home was always clean (maybe to a fault), the beds were always made, the laundry was always done, and there was dinner almost every night. Some of those dinners were edible.
• She had a very green thumb, and I wish I'd have paid closer attention to how she did that.
• It took her a while to love Traci, but from their first breath she loved my kids fiercely and tenderly, and she made sure there was always money there for dance lessons and t-ball uniforms during the lean years of our marriage.

There's more I could say, but I suppose this is enough for public consumption. Cecilia Gail Bass Long was a simple person who came of age in a complicated world. She loved well, but she was also "mean as a striped snake." She could rant and rave like a pro. Not every memory of her is good. In fact, it's taken ten years of her being dead to say that I remember more good things than bad things, so maybe my memory isn't as honest as I've led you to believe. But here's the take home message for me: I can live in the past and be forever and continuously bruised by the hurt she brought, or I can live with an eye toward the future and count all that's behind as water under the bridge. After all, how long does a person have to be dead before you stop blaming them for your problems? The best I can do is take responsibility for me.

Perhaps that's the best gift of all.

Miracles Amongst Us

This short piece is inspired by Bruce Springsteen's eulogy of Danny Federici, piano player for the E Street Band who died back in 2008. I especially like Bruce's idea that people who are with us in the presence of miracles can never be separated from us.

...If we didn’t play together, the E Street Band at this point would probably not know one another. We wouldn’t be in this room together. But we do... We do play together. And every night at 8 p.m., we walk out on stage together and that, my friends, is a place where miracles occur...old and new miracles. And those you are with, in the presence of miracles, you never forget. Life does not separate you. Time does not separate you. Animosities do not separate you. Death does not separate you. Those you are with who create miracles for you, like Danny did for me every night, you are honored to be amongst...

In some ways this gathers to mind all of the colleagues with whom I've shared pastoral duties, especially worship leadership responsibilities. Not that leading worship is a "performance" like a Springsteen concert, but the fact is that miracles do occur in the every Sunday worship lives of local congregations, and many times it's due to and inspired by the deeply talented giftedness of those ministers with whom I've shared the platform, people who have chosen to offer their talents to God and God's people.

Those ministers are witnesses to the miracle of an awakened spirit, a softened heart, or a renewed sense of purpose. Not only are ministers "front row - center section" for the big stuff like baptisms, weddings, funerals, and moments of birth and death, but they are also witness to the miracles more common but no less phenomenal.

Those "common-er" miracles happen on bended knee in a quiet room, over a cup of coffee at the greasy spoon, or the quick phone call "just to see how you're doing." They are easier to miss. They are earthy. Sometimes they're funny and sometimes they're terrible. But all of them. All of them. Each and every single one of them are miracles of God. And my wise ministerial colleagues seldom miss seeing them as such.

So, to all my friends involved in ministry (and not all of you are employed by the church), thank you for helping us all to see the miracles of God in the ordinary of life. I am honored to be amongst you. I'd say your music is even better than Bruce's because you play for the rea "Boss."

The Bible on Immigration

Christians often quote the Bible to take their moral or ethical stand. I've not heard much Bible in the immigration conversation. Here's one passage I found:

"When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God." (Leviticus 19:33-34)

What other passages do you read in the Christian scripture that speak to immigration issues in our country?

BFAM

BFAM

Romans 8.12-17

My brother-in-law taught me by example what it means to be a "Brother from another mother.” Our wives are sisters and they tell us that we act and think so much alike that clearly we were born in a pod together, separated at birth, and then reunited later in life by our splendid taste in women. Over the years we have truly become "brothers from another mother."

Pop culture may have offered up the nifty B.F.A.M. phrase, but the apostle Paul caught on to the notion 2 millennia ago. He wrote in Romans 8 "...that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ..." In other words, Christ is our brother, and we are brothers and sisters to one another.

This passage is up for consideration in this Sunday's sermon. It's a fitting passage because we also will celebrate Pentecost, the "birthday" of the church. Pentecost is documented in Acts 2 as the day when the Holy Spirit visited a gathering of worshipers and all those gathered (who spoke many different languages) began to understand in their own native tongue, and a great spiritual awakening resulted.

The Holy Spirit bound the early church together that day, despite the deep ethnic and religious differences. Romans 8 deserves our hearing so that we, "brothers from another mother" and "sisters from another mister," might learn to understand and appreciate the differences that exist within the church, claim our spot as heirs with Christ, and show the world what it means to live in harmony while honoring our diversity.

If you're in the DC metro area this weekend I hope you'll join us for Bible study at 9:15 and worship at 10:30 on Sunday. We'll be observing Pentecost and Multicultural Sunday, and we'll honor our diversity by hearing scripture, prayer, and song in the many different languages spoken in our church.

The sermon, My Brother from Another Mother, My Sister from Another Mister, will empower us to seek ways that the church can teach the world to work together despite and differences and because of our differences. After worship we'll share a potluck meal, so bring a dish to share that represents your own ethnic/cultural heritage and come hungry!

See you Sunday,
Pastor Gary

Losing Portfolios

Philippians 3.7-14

Want to get your Friday off to a good start this morning?

Just get your Mother's Day prep done and don't check your stock portfolio.

Thursday was one of those record breaking, hand-wringing days on Wall Street as the Dow Jones Index plunged 997 points. It regained some ground later in the day, but for a while things looked pretty bad. And Friday isn't looking too promising, either. It's a story we're used to, one where the plot line is bleak financial news bombarding us for years in one of the worst periods in our modern economic history.

Markets fluctuate and wealth comes and goes. But even when the Dow is up and you're feeling financially secure, remember the words of the Apostle Paul. He would say, "So what? It's all worthless when counted against the gain of Jesus. In fact, your portfolio is a losing dog if you don't have Jesus." Read the third chapter of Philippians closely and you'll see that Paul considered everything outside of his relationship with Jesus as pure "rubbish." And that's translated for polite company. The Greek Paul uses actually contains an expletive no smart preacher would use in the pulpit.

Yeah, all else counts that little to him.

The sermon for this Sunday at First Baptist Church Gaithersburg is called Losing Portfolios and it's based on Philippians 3.7-14. It's an invitation to consider the real values of life where Christ is the gain and all else is a losing portfolio. If you're in the Metro Washington, DC area this weekend, you're invited! We'll warm up with Bible study at 9:30 and for opening bell for worship is 10:30.

Grace & Peace,
Pastor Gary

Afterlife on Facebook

A dear friend of mine died suddenly in early January. Strangely - or perhaps not in this strange and modern world - his facebook friends continue to post things on his page. It has transformed from a recollection of his life through his own eyes into a recollection of his life through our eyes. Nobody sends him, "Join my fan page" messages now, or "help me win at Mafai Wars." That's all useless in memoriam.

They say stuff that matters.

"I miss you every day."

"You were my number one."

"Wishing you were here to talk to. You always listened to me."

"Thank you for loving me."

I could pontificate about the finality of death, quote John Mayer with "say what you need to say", and encourage you to tell everyone you love them. But that's not what his Facebook obituary is prompting in me. Rather, I'm seeing how much that we pursue is superfluous, how much of life is distraction from what matters most.

I'm at peace with my friend's death. I was a good friend and pastor to him, best I could be, in fact. I have zero regrets about our relationship. He and I were at peace with one another and our friendship was an exercise of mutual edification. When I was with him I liked me, and I think he liked himself when he was with me.

Oh, I miss him, don't get me wrong. But today I'm taking an inventory of my relationships and asking myself if I've pursued peace with all whom I should, and if I've built up others in every way I can. The list is long, the time is short, where am I to start? And how to proceed? I am, after all, subject to the ideas in Tenneyson's ode to his dead friend,

So runs my dream, but what am I?

An infant crying in the night

An infant crying for the light

And with no language but a cry.

Proper Pursuits

In the pop country song I Run to You, the band Lady Antebellum asks, "I run my life, or is it running me?" The line underscores the reality of our lives: we chase the wrong things and end up sucked into a drowning current that dumps us into a cesspool of mediocrity, where we sit in the shallow water wondering, "Is this all there is to life?"

Caught up in the pursuit of happiness, we run amok lacking a full awareness of what "happiness" really means, how to attain it, or what we'd even do with it if we caught that elusive tiger by the tail. What are we to do?

The apostle Paul led a revolution from Judaism to Christianity, but with the transition came tremendous debate over things that distracted the early church from focusing on the freedom found in Jesus. Paul's answer? Pursue peace and mutual edification.

For Paul, the answer to the problematic pursuits of life was to define things, not in terms of self, but in terms of relatedness to God and to neighbor. Peace within oneself is forged by making peace with others and God. Personal growth is fueled by edifying others, not by self-help courses or get rich quick schemes. When our singular focus is making our own lives better & freer, the only tiger we catch is the one who growls, "not enough, let's get more."

If you're in the Metro DC area this weekend, I invite you to join us on Sunday as we consider chasing the right things. Proper Pursuits is the name of the sermon, and we'll talk about how to let go of the tiger's tail and not get eaten alive. Worship begins at 10:30 and Bible study is at 9:15.

See you Sunday,

Pastor Gary

What's Your Story Worth? Thoughts on Acts 5.27-42

“Hey Dad, tell us about the time you got hit by a car and it knocked your shoes off. Or about the time you sucked the peanut down your windpipe and lived to tell about it. Or about the time grandpa tied two cats together by the tail and hung them over the clothesline.”

Yes, those are all true stories about various members of my family.

But more than being simple family lore, these tales shape identity. My children come to know others and themselves by hearing about the fits and foibles of their ancestors. Durable stories forge our perceptions, they hold our past, and they shape our future. Stories create realities.

Peter and the apostles of the early church surely learned this. They told the story of Jesus’ death and resurrection and it was creating such a buzz in the temple that they were summoned before the council. They got “shushed.”

“We gave you strict orders not to teach in this name,” the high priest said.

“We must obey God rather than any human authority,” was the retort.

They were so compelled by the story that the apostles had to tell it, there was no containing it. Even after being flogged and told to stop, they kept on boldly telling the story of Jesus’ work on the cross and his victory over death. The story was worth telling no matter the consequences. What else but the power of Christ could compel them?

Church, we can reclaim the power of the story we carry within us, transform the story from latency to potency! Join us for worship this Sunday and be encouraged that we, too, must tell the story of Jesus no matter the consequences. We'll start worship at 10:30 a.m., and I hope you'll consider attending a Bible study this week at 9:15 a.m.

Tell me the old, old story,
Pastor Gary

Jesus Sightings

Countless people claim to have seen an apparition of the face of Jesus. Sometimes the image of Jesus appears on a wall of the church. Or on a tortilla. Or in their grilled cheese sandwich. One family reports having a Jesus in the shape of a Cheetoh, another man saw the image of Jesus in his chest x-ray. Talk about having Jesus in your heart!

I'm not questioning the piety of these folk, but clearly, there is something wrong here. Most of the "Jesus sightings" we hear about are nothing more than attention seekers seizing their proverbial five minutes of fame. Or the money. Take Mario Rubio, who found the image of Jesus in her burrito in 1977 and immediately quit her job, choosing to work at the "Shrine of the Tortilla" that she constructed in her backyard for tourists.

Even the gullible raise a wary right eyebrow at these stories. But is it possible to see Jesus? And if so, how? Where do we start looking? Is the search more like searching for lost car keys or the needle in a haystack?

The Bible give us a hopeful answer with the story of two men along the road who experienced a "Jesus sighting" after the resurrection. Cleopas and his friend find Jesus revealed to them in some very ordinary ways, ways that offer hope for a "Jesus sighting" to those of us who never get to see Jesus in our soup bowl or grilled cheese sandwich.

We'll talk about seeing Jesus in the ordinary living of life during worship on Sunday. If you're in the Washington, DC metro area, join us at First Baptist Gaithersburg at 10:30, maybe you'll have a Jesus sighting of your own!

Keeping an open eye,
Pastor Gary

Quaker Gun Slinger

In the old, old West, a devout Quaker cowboy had been needled and harassed until he could stand it no longer. Speaking up to his tormentors, he announced: "Sir, I do not believe in violence and I would not harm thee for anything in the world. But my compassion for all men compels me to warn thee that thee are standing in the place where I am about to shoot."

Is God a Lab Rat?

This article is written by Larry Hudson, a member of my church and a physicist at the National Institute for Standards in Technology. If you've ever been interested in a rational explanation of the problems inherent in the Intelligent Design theory, this piece may be for you.

Jesus Sighed Deeply

Every kid who made it through Sunday School knows John 11.35 , "Jesus wept." It's the shortest verse in the Bible, and a favorite for ease of memorization.

It's brief, but rife with emotion. Jesus is mourning the death of his friend Lazarus. The Bible points to a wide range of emotions in Jesus, including anger and rage, joy and sadness, hunger and loneliness. In Mark 8 we read this lengthier verse that describes a pain in Jesus equal to his grief over Lazarus:

He sighed deeply and said, "Why does this generation ask for a miraculous sign? I tell you the truth, no sign will be given to it."

Take another look. He "sighed deeply." His sigh teems with disappointment and frustration with the Pharisees. They'd asked for a sign of his power, but Jesus refused to reduced to a religious puppet or plaything. Mark makes it plain that Jesus is interested in healing people in dire straits. In miracle feedings that nourish his followers. In explaining the kingdom through parables. But he doesn't want his buttons pushed by some power hungry religious officials who only want to cage him, or worse yet, manipulate his power for their gain.

And so he warns his disciples to watch out for the "yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod." The statement confused the disciples, they thought he was still talking about bread, and not the destructive things that burrow in to inhibit true belief. Jesus refused to be a genie for the Pharisees, but we are equally dense and get "fleeced by the yeast" of life each time we try to force God's hand.

"Fleeced by the Yeast" is the title of the message this Sunday, and we'll discuss how Christians of good faith can avoid the plight of the Pharisees. If you're in the suburban DC area this weekend, join us at 10:30a.m. for worship at FBC Gaithersburg. We'll observe communion this week and all believers are welcome.

Grace & Peace,
Pastor Gary

Reclaiming Joy - Easter

In W B Yeats' play Calvary, Jesus talks briefly as he is dying; once with Lazarus, once with Judas, and once with the Roman soldiers. All are intriguing conversations, but Lazarus holds in common with Jesus something few of us are yet to experience: the resurrection. Thus, the conversation is surprising for the reader. Jesus expects that Lazarus won't be among those mocking him on the cross, but Lazarus surprises him. "I had been dead and I was lying still in an old comfortable mountain cavern when you came climbing in there ... and dragged me to the light."

Yeats' fictional Lazarus is unhappy about his life. He wanted the solitude of death because being brought back to life was an unhappy experience for him. Yeats suggests that Lazarus had not enjoyed life enough for a repeat showing. It's hardly the good word we expect from a guy who got a second chance!

It begs a question for those willing to contemplate such Easter issues: would you, upon your death, want to be resurrected to your current life?

Live While You're Alive

You see, Easter is something powerful, way outstripping eggs and bunnies. It thins out the veil between life and death, inviting the faithfully curious to peer through to the other side. And, having peered through the veil, we must return to living our life, much like Lazarus who was called back to the living of life. As you ponder the resurrection this weekend, consider death. But also consider this life, for I am convinced that the resurrection gives you power for today, in addition to the sweet by and by.

We'll think more about this on Easter Sunday in a sermon from 1 Corinthians 15.12-26 called Live While You're Alive. If you're in the DC metro area this weekend, you're invited for the festivities of Easter beginning at 10:30 a.m. at First Baptist Church Gaithersburg.

I just wanna live while I'm alive,
Pastor Gary

Reclaiming the Joy of Faith through Sabbath Keeping

My Sabbath Story

My grandfather wouldn't go fishing on Sundays. "You might pull up the devil," he'd say.

Sunday was for worship, rest, and visiting, but certainly not for work and even some kinds of recreation. And even though I've never pulled up the devil on a Sunday fishing trip, his old fashioned ways held a certain rhythm that I'd like to duplicate in the living of these days. What used to seem boring and antiquated has deep spiritual meaning for me as our family struggles against the culture of doing to take Sunday for being.

Exodus 20 teaches us that God labored and rested and that we should do the same. Sabbath is a gift and keeping Sabbath bears much fruit in our lives. What can Sabbath do for you? Find out this weekend by considering this challenge:

1. Have a Saturday night meal with your family. No TV, no cell phones, no iPods, and no video games.

2. Go to bed early and pray that your night of rest will be good. Commit your sleep and dreams over to God. Offer up the next day as one of rest while trusting God to watch over the things you won't be doing on your Sabbath. Set your clocks forward one hour on Saturday night at bedtime this week!

3. Rise early and share breakfast with your family or a good friend.

4. Attend worship in the morning.

5. Plan for a nap, games with your children or grandchildren, intimate time with your spouse, or a relaxing activity in the afternoon. Resist the urge to work, check email, or answer the phone.

6. End the 24 hour Sabbath as you began - with family.

I'd love to hear how you keep Sabbath. Share with me via email, or post here. And if you're in the Metro DC area this weekend, I invite you to include First Baptist Church Gaithersburg as your place of worship on Sunday morning. You'll find fellow pilgrims who are weary and wounded, ready to experience the life changing grace of Jesus. And if you fall asleep while I offer the sermon, that's ok, too. It just means you needed the rest and I'm glad to help you get it.

Shabbat Shalom,

Pastor Gary

Reclaiming the Joy of Faith through Celebration

The Father of the Bride movies gave us George Banks, played by Steve Martin, someone with whom this dad can surely identify. He's this forlornly happy husband and father, who invites us to laugh at the pain and joy of family. His own foibles are funny as well as instructive.

In the second movie "Franck" and his decorating partner "Howard" tease George for being a kill joy with the utterly quotable line, "Every party has a pooper that's why we invited you...party pooper George BAAAANKS." It's a great line that also describes how much of the world views Christians.

Party poopers.

But where did this dullard reputation come from and why do we reinforce it? Granted, there is a time to be somber and sincere. Our reverence for God is necessary. But somewhere along the way we lost sight of the fact that Christianity really is Good News, in fact it's Great News! The love of God, the joy of freedom from sin, and the future party that's awaiting us in the Kingdom to come? All reasons to celebrate. Maybe we've lost our zeal.

Consider how King David danced wildly before the Ark. He got chastised by his wife because he danced "commando" (Read 2 Samuel 6). Or take a close read of Zephaniah 3 and discover how God will "rejoice" over us as His children. Or see that Jesus' first miracle was turning water into wine at a wedding feast so that the celebration could continue. Or try to count all the stories Jesus told about feasts in the kingdom of heaven. Or listen to the words of Jesus' critics who thought it slander to accuse him of being a drunkard and a glutton - they knew he liked to celebrate. I like to imagine there was one heck of a celebration in heaven and on earth on that first Easter, too.

To reclaim the joy of faith, we need to learn how to throw a good party that celebrates all that's good in life, all that's from God. Jesus died for your sin and you have a place in eternity with him. Who wouldn't want to celebrate that?

If you're in the Metro DC area this weekend, won't you join us as we redefine the word "party?" We worship at 10:30, and Bible Study is at 9:15. For those who'd like learn more about our ministry partner the American Baptist Convention, come meet Ray Schooler in the fellowship hall at 10am. He'll also be bringing greetings in worship, and meeting with anyone interested in mission work immediately after worship.

Ready to celebrate,
Pastor Gary

Reclaiming the Joy of Faith - Simplicity

Do you ever feel burned out on religion? Does your spirit thirst for God's spirit? The Lenten sermon series Reclaiming Joy speaks to the human need to jump off the fast track and into the full life.

In the book of Second Kings and Second Chronicles, we learn about King Josiah, who led a reformation of Israel. During a renovation of the temple, workers found the "Book of the Law." They presented the book to Josiah, who after reading it, realized how far from God the people had come. He led a season of repentance and led the nation back to obedience of God's laws and the practice of their faith and worship.

Over the Sundays of Lent we'll think like Josiah as we seek to nourish our faith. We'll deal with different spiritual habits that we can renew. Each of these can lead us to deeper joy in life, and especially in our relationship to God. There are many spiritual habits we could study, but we're going to add each of the following, one week at a time:

• Simplicity
• Celebration
• Sabbath Keeping
• Silence
• Solitude
• Humility

Every member of FBC is going to be invited and challenged to take part in a special shared project at the end of Lent. If you make the commitment to listen to the New Testament on CD for 28 minutes a day for 40 days, you'll get a free CD of the New Testament from our friends at the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship. The 40 day period will begin on Easter Sunday and is the challenge that will come out of ourReclaiming Joy series. Please begin praying that 100% of our church family will make this commitment! Watch for more news about this during March.

Hello, my friend, hello. It's good to see you.

I've not been posting much material the past year. There are several reasons.

One of them is that I've taken a new pastorate, and it's been a tough year of transition. My family is trailing behind me, waiting for the oldest sister to finish high school. It has been bearable, but the "back and forth" has exacted a toll on my creativity and desire to be extroverted via this blog. Sometimes you just have to turn inward for a while to conserve and preserve yourself for the most essential tasks of life: family, faith, and work.

Another reason is that I've been focusing more time on preparing better sermons, writing for doctoral research, and writing curriculum for spiritual formation. Those venues have tapped a different voice from within me, but have made a recluse of my blogging brain. I imagine that's also an inward turn. Some would say my preaching was just fine - I would argue that it still has a long, long way to go.

But I suppose the biggest reason is that I've not been blogging is that I had little to say. The cup has been dry, but not for the reason you might think. You see, I'm turning 40 this year and I've been reflecting on what I've written and said in the past. Much of that older material is uttered by a less mature voice than what is at work in me now. I've been reading widely and learning that I have a lot still to learn about the craft of writing and preaching. I'm starting to see how good writing goes beyond elegant ordering of well-chosen words. Good writing must come from within a person who knows themselves well and I am only just now beginning to know myself. And only in glimpses can I even see me!

Further, good writing stems from full living. If a writer has explored his life fully, it's time to go live some more. That's the feeling I got when I read David Sedaris' last book, When You are Engulfed in Flames. I wanted to tell David, "Go live some more before you write another one."

So I'm slowing down on my writing, letting things more substantive and mature emerge. That will inevitably mean less output, but hopefully of higher quality. In the mean time, thanks for continuing to read here. I thank you for the visits to my page and I hope you'll keep checking back.

U2 or the Beatles?

If you don’t know who the Beatles or U2 are, you might be above a certain age that I wouldn’t dare name. That’s OK, you only need to know that they’re both wildly successful rock bands.

The bands had extremely different styles for song writing. With the Beatles the songs were written by one individual and then taught to the band. Usually it was John Lennon or Paul McCartney. With U2, every member of the band collaborated to create the “sound” for the song. Both bands were critically and commercially successful.

Some churches are like the Beatles, some are like U2 in this regard. Some churches are run from the top down – pastor and deacons/elders make the decisions and the church goes forward. Some churches are more collaborative in decisions and direction. Both models work for different reasons in different places.

Paul is addressing a troubled church in his letter to the Corinthians. In the second half of chapter 12 Paul reminds the church of their unity in Christ, despite the differences that exist among them. And whether they’re going to be top-down or collegial, they’re going to have to work together.

The same is true for churches today. We have no choice but to pull in the same direction with all our talents and passions. The work is too important, and the unity of the church is too valuable. The means that we Christians need to belong – really belong – to our churches. How? ·

- By fully investing in our church, not simply attending it. ·
- Acting as co-creators of community, not just consumers. ·
- Embracing our diversity, not disparaging our differences.

If you're in the Metro DC area this weekend I hope you'll join me at First Baptist Church Gaithersburg for worship at 10:30. If not, I hope you'll attend the church of your choosing and invest yourself anew. You need your church and your church needs you!

All you need is love where the streets have no name,

Pastor Gary

Through Fire & Water

I remember my baptism, but only in snippets. I remember the bright red hair and glowing face of the woman who was baptized before me. I remember the square-edged voice of the preacher who buried me and pulled me out. I remember that the water was warm and the light was soft. And I remember that family was there, and we went out for ice cream. Those images are priceless and peaceful to me.

Remembering baptism is important because it is a singular time of calm in the sea of life, a rough and tumble tide. John the Baptist warned the people, "I baptize you with water...He [Jesus] will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire." What John shouted in the wilderness of Bible times is still true in the city life of modern times. The life of following Jesus will involve some trial, some hard work, and some suffering. If I had my "druthers," I'd be content to take my salvation and go merrily along my way without hardship. Seems God has other plans, other things to teach us in the shaping of our character into the image of Christ.

The good news is that we do not go it alone. We have the fellowship of the saints, the support of friends, and above all, we have God who does not leave us alone. Isaiah 43.2 promises,

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you."

Join us on Sunday to remember your baptism and to reestablish contact with the God who wants to go with you through the water and fire of life. We gather at 10:30 for worship and 9:15 for Bible study!

Reaching for my asbestos life jacket,

Pastor Gary

Long Story, Short is a weekly column I write to get you thinking about church on Sunday. If you're in the Washington, D.C. Metro area on Sundays, I invite you to join us at First Baptist Church, Gaithersburg. You can catch back issues of this column and other original pieces on my blog at www.tothelees.blogspot.com.

Nice Poem

Not feeling very inspired to blog lately, I've been writing a lot for work and for school. However, this poem spoke to me today:

"On Swimming" by Adam Zagajewski

The rivers of this country are sweet
as a troubadour's song.
the heavy sun wanders westward
on yellow circus wagons.
Little village churches
hold a fabrid of silenc so fin
and old that even a breath
could tear it.
I love to swim in the sea, which keeps
talking to itself
in the monotone of a vagabond
who no longer recalls
exactly how long he's been on the road.
Swimming is like prayer:
palms join and part,
join and part,
almost without end.