Learning the wisdom...

Today was one of those days I had a ringside seat in seeing someone's life turn upside down. One of my pastors went to his dr. "for some Tami-Flu", was taken straight to the hospital in an ambulance, tested up one side and down the other only to learn he needed heart surgery. Talk about life turning around.

The surgery he will have in the morning will almost certainly save his life. Had he not had the congestion, had the doctor not been so observant and thorough, this undetected, untreated valve dysfunction could have had catastrophic results. When heart surgery is the easy option --- well, you get the picture.

As soon as I got the news, I got in the car and went to the hospital. The privileges of pastoral life flooded me in that room. Even small talk among family members is different when it takes place in a hospital room right before surgery. The sweet presence of Christ was so evident to me I felt like I could reach out and, literally, touch Jesus. Instead, we touched each others hands around a family circle for prayer and we felt the Holy Spirit.

As a pastor, I had holy experiences like this over and over. Such communion! Such joy in the expressions of love, appreciation and peace! This is presence that matters. Memory-making for a lifetime. Just a few months ago, someone came up, introduced herself as a member from years ago. "I will never forget that you came to the hospital when my daughter had surgery," she said. "I told you not to come. But your presence made a difference that morning and ever since." That's the kind of sweet comment that makes everything worthwhile.

And, as I was praying in that hospital room tonight, I felt the urge to bolt out of the room, go straight to the bishop and say, "Please, please, please put me back in a church!" --an assignment where hospital visitation is part of the regular, if not daily, routine. In actuality, I had a different experience. When I did leave the room, I burst out in tears -- overcome by the sweetness of our time together and the privilege of the pastoral life.

As I have lived with this pastoral situation in my heart (which is where all good pastors carry their prayerful concerns) and its impact on me, I also realized that, in spite of my great love for the pastoral ministry setting, I have already received something that is good for me right now -- ministry that is a step removed from this pastoral work that I love. I felt the emotions of having life turn upside down so deeply because I'm so close to that experience myself. I've been there. Twice in the last two years, I have been diagnosed with a life-threatening disease/condition that had no warning symptoms. My mind -- and my heart--still reels from the spillover. Then it occurred to me: maybe this is not the best time for me to be in that more direct role of pastoral work walking with people daily in life's unexpected traumas.

The fragility of life is something that no one can miss -- no matter what their vocation. But pastoral ministry -- like many other helping professions--is the front line for lives turned upside down, often at a moment's notice.

I hope I always carry an ache in my heart for pastoral ministry. I pray that everyone serving in a connectional setting honors the local church setting is the primary place that discipleship is lived out and that God's gift of love is received shared and taught. But as I had a glimpse this week of longing for that ministry I love so deeply, I realized that God had already answered a prayer I wasn't wise enough to pray for myself at this time. Healing takes place over time. And I am still needing time for God's unfolding healing work in me.

The view from the cemetery

December 6 was one of those marathon Sundays--a big Centennial Celebration for Broad Street UMC then off to 3 Charge Conferences. My administrative assistant thoughtfully scheduled churches that were not far away and the last stop on the circuit was a church just down the road from my home. Arriving in my neighborhood at 6: 15 p.m., I had about 20 minutes before I needed to head for my last stop. So I turned down the road to my house to catch my breath.

Instead, I experienced something that took my breath away.

I should back up and say that I live in the neighborhood of one of my churches -- New Salem UMC. My grandsons and I love to walk the short block to the playground there. Connor has been to Bible School and Trunk Or Treat at my neighbor church. Last year, the boys and I went to their "Walk to Bethlehem" -- a very impressive live experience of the Christmas story.

This year, I was doing Charge Conferences the night of the Walk to Bethlehem and my little boys were in a Live Nativity of their own in their new church.

New Salem's "Walk to Bethlem" involves a lot of setting up of flares and candlelight so that people can see how to go from one station to the next. When I turned onto New Salem Road, I knew there would be a lot of activity in the field on the left.

And I was right about that. There was a big crowd.

But, what stunned me was what I saw on the right hand side of the road.

The right hand side of the road is the New Salem Cemetery. I pass it every day. After my friends' Jan Brittain and Cecil Donahue's son was killed and buried in that cemebery in September of last year, I have walked in or through that cemetery praying for them. What I saw that night in the cemetery took my breath away.

Every grave had a burning candle, softly shedding light and illuminating the stones. There it was -- light shining from a place that represents our deepest darkness. And the words from the gospel of John flew all over me: "In Him was life and that life was the light for all. And the light shone in the darkness and the darkness has never overcome it." (John 1: 4,5)

I came home --not to catch my breath, but to get my camera.

I parked my car, walked in the darkness and tried to get a picture of the amazing sight I was experiencing. I found myself weeping--overcome by the vision of light breaking through the darkness. Light in penetrating darkness.

I love John 1:5. But, in reality, I feel so many times that the darkness in the world smothers the light of God. Meanness, selfishness, greed, arrogance, prejudice, hate , disease, brokenness, death. Sometimes, it feels like the darkness is winning. As I stood looking at hundreds of candles burning at each marker, I was experiencing the testimony of John's words. The darkness -- however dark-- does not win. The light of Christ will prevail and shine in life's deepest darkness.

Yes! I know that to be true for the deepest darknesses of my own life. But in that tired moment, seeing the light at every grave glowing in the shadow of the lighted steeple -- well, it took my breath away.

Later, I learned that the lighting of the cemetery is a project the New Salem youth began last year after Wade was buried there. New Salem's "Walk to Bethlehem" is certainly worth coming to and I enjoyed it last year. But this year, I also got the message of Christ's coming into the world. This year, I got it by walking in a candlelit cemetery.

Later, I learned that this cemetery lighting is a project that the youth of New Salem UMC began last year after Wade died.

The gift of a day

What a great gift today is!
Snow-blanketed world, Christmas music, a clear schedule (except for watching Duke basketball!), baking Mother's favorite holiday recipes...
How I have needed a day like this!

Today is also richly blessed for me because my daughter, Christi, is preaching her first funeral. Knowing her like I do, I know she is going to be a great blessing to a family in need. She personifies the grace of Christ, the kindness of God's great heart and extraordinary compassion.
Although she is very eloquent in words, she will be a blessing just being herself. What a great joy for me to know she is making a difference to a family and her church today.

Sometimes, when people hear that Christi was commissioned last June or know that she is a United Methodist minister, they will say, "So, she's following her mother's footsteps." Actually, she is not. Anyone who has grown up as a preacher's kid knows better. If anything, growing up with a preacher parent is an impediment to accepting the call to ministry. Preachers kids think twice -- three-four times before going into the ministry themselves.

The greatest thing is that Christi is following Jesus. I am very content with my day at home. She is a blessing to me each day. Today, I am thrilled to know that her life is being a special blessing to someone else. A day overflowing with blessings indeed.

Watching Dreams Come True

Today, we had an amazing opportunity to share an experience that, in Mary Allen's words, gave us a chance to "watch dreams come true." I had my first on site visit to Mary and Mary Allen's new house at Lake Junaluska. And she is right, it was a chance to see a dream become a reality.

This is the view from one of Mark and Mary Allen's decks...

And it is a dream come true.

They have long hoped and saved and dreamed for a house at Junaluska. And now, right before their eyes, their dream is taking shape. They have started a house blog with the name of the house: Dream Come True.

Our trip was everything Mary Allen said it would be: a great thrill watching a dream become reality. I am so happy for them. So proud of them.

But I think the thing I would want Mary Allen to know is that I have the joy of watching dreams come true,too. I'm not building a house. My dreams are bigger. My dreams are about building a life. And every time I see Mary Allen, I am seeing my dreams come true. Every time I see the creative, loving, joyful, dedicated, wonderful Christian, wife and mother that she is, I am seeing my dreams come true. Every time I see the way she supports her husband and organizes life for her household, I am seeing my dreams come true. Every time I see the pasty Chrismon creations, little Christmas trees made of ice cream cones, green icing and sprinkles (beloved by the little boys), and personalized church bags for each boy, I see the dream of my heart come true. Every time I see the joyful playfulness, pictures and blogs, homemade gifts and overflowing love of her heart, I am seeing my dreams come true.

Mark and Mary Allen are building a house that their family will enjoy for years... and I celebrate that with them and for them. They are seeing their dreams become a reality.

When I see their lives, I also have the chance to see dreams come true...dreams of my heart...dreams for my daughter. They are not dreams of a building, but dreams of a life. She is more accomplished, creative, dedicated, extraordinary than I could ever have dreamed. I have the privilege of seeing dreams come true every time I see her.

Sadness at Christmas

I heard a very sad story this week that has made me wonder if some people in church have any idea what it means for Christ to be born in the world. The story has caused me to grieve over how far away we, apparently, have let church people get from the meaning of Jesus.

Once upon a time, in 2009, a church decided to give a Christmas party for a needy family. Several weeks before the party, some church members realized they didn't have enough money for the party. So they cancelled it.

Before long, the pastor heard of plans for a Christmas party.

Not a party for a needy family.

But a party for church members.

Apparently there was enough money for that.

I wish I could say this story of two parties is a fairy-tale or an embellished illustration for sermon material. But I am sad to say it is the true story -- a tragic story--of a church this Christmas season. A church that has missed the heart of the Christmas story.

This gets my nomination for saddest story of the year. And, if I were the Christian I should be, I would say, "Lord, have mercy." But what I really want to say is, "Lord, shake them up! Get their attention! Draw them outside themselves!" Maybe the best middle place is my fervent, daily prayer that somehow the Christmas story would be heard anew in that church this year...the true message of God's sacrifice for our abundant and eternal life...and God's call to us to live out the gift of life to others. No matter what happens at their party, this is going to be a sad story until they understand that the heart of Jesus is always reaching out to others. Be born in them, O Christ -- and be born in all of us--anew this year.

Celebrating in Special Ways

I have always felt a sense of wonder about the sweet verse closing out the second chapter of Luke: "And Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart."

Sometimes, life's events are too rich, too powerful, too amazing to grasp all in the moment they take place. That's how the Shepherd Thanksgiving weekend has been for me.

Christi (newly commissioned UM minister in the NC Conference); Daddy (celebrating 66 years of ministry in the Kentucky Conference) and me. November 27, 2009. This picture was taken in my home church, First United Methodist Church Frankfort.

Our family moved to Frankfort in 1961 and this is where all of us joined the church. Daddy served here for 10 years and then became Superintendent of the Frankfort District. So, all in all, we lived in Frankfort for 16 of our family growing up years -- an unusual gift for a Methodist preacher's family. Now, Daddy serves on staff at Frankfort First as their Minister in Residence.

This is me, Daddy and my brother, Mark

(who is pastor at Jeffersontown UMC just outside of Louisville, KY).

The church honored Daddy for his 88th birthday (November 28) and his 66 years of ministry.

Between the 3 of us, we account for 127 years of ministry to the Methodist Church.

Daddy's immediate family service to full time Methodist ministry is 261 years.

When we moved to Frankfort, of course, there was no way to realize how profoundly this church would influence our lives. The 4 little Shepherds were 2 1/2 (Mark), 1st grade (Phillip) 4th grade (Ruth Ann) and I was going into 6th grade. Through the years, this church continued to be an ongoing source of welcome, support and encouragement.

I wish there was a way to convey to congregations what a difference they make in the lives of their parsonage families!
And now, nearly 50 years later, the church is still making a difference in our family life -- welcoming Daddy on their staff as Minister in Residence and celebrating his ministry. How could we possibly find words eloquent enough to convey the thanks of our heart?