Often late at night, when I wake up and am all alone with my thoughts, I begin to pray about the random things that come and go in my mind; people, events, images, places, things. Sometimes I try to figure things out but I quickly become exhausted. That’s when I wonder what God thinks.

Here are a few of my recent random thoughts that that I prayed about: Omram Daqneesh, the little brown haired, mop headed boy who stared out at us as he sat in the back of an ambulance after being pulled from the rubble of an apartment building in Aleppo.  You remember the picture.The left side of his face was caked with dried blood and dirt; the childlike shocked wondering look in his eyes. In video clips he wiped his brow with the left hand, momentarily stared at it before innocently wiping it on the seat cushion. The stain and the horror, though, could not be wiped away that easily.

I pray for the moms and dads in cities like Chicago who say prayers with their children as they tuck their children in bed at night to the background noise of gunfire. I pray for the parents whose children never come home and are forever taken from them. I pray for teachers who want to teach but also need to be social workers for students who are afraid to learn  because peer pressure pulls them down to the lowest common denominator.

I pray for the under-emploied and the unemployed, for those who have given up hope and for those who never had hope planted in their hearts i the first place. I pray for those who dream and those who are afraid to dream. I pray for all of us as we seem to worry about just taking care of our own. I long for the bygone day when selfishness wasn’t seen as a virtue and the government wasn’t the punchline of a joke. It is all so wearying.

I have a confession to make. Not too long ago I wrote a prayer for God–not to God, but for God. I wrote it in my journal. I don’t know if anyone ever thinks about praying for God. For all I know, it may be some kind of heresy. After all, God doesn’t need our prayers, right? Nor has God asked for them, at least as far as I know. But still, something inside of me stirred the urge to pray for God. I don’t think that it did any harm. It even did me some good. And who knows, maybe God found it amusingly refreshing to have someone pray and not ask the Almighty for anything.

Yes, I keep wondering what God is thinking when he looks at the world, when he hears any of his children cry.  Someone once asked Jesus “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied that a neighbor is anyone who needs your help. I wonder if Jesus was thinking about the story of  Cain and Able when God asked Cain, after he killed his brother Able, where Able was?  “How should I know?” Cain retorted. “Am I my brother’s keeper?”

Well, in a word, yes; yes, you are your brother’s keeper. We are connected to each other whether we like it or not. Jon Donne had it right when he wrote that no one is an island. We are all a part of the main. And, all children are our children.

There are certain decisions that we make in life that haunt from time to time. One such image for me is occurred on a cold December day when my wife and I were in downtown Chicago. We stayed at a hotel on Michigan Avenue and agreed to meet friends at an Italian restaurant within walking distance of our hotel. Walking to the restaurant I passed a homeless man sitting, alone with his head resting on his arms and tucked between his bended knees. He had a tattered blanket draped over his head and shoulders so that no one could see his face. He had no sign asking for money, no cup, and no bag that I could see.

At the restaurant I ordered my “go to” Italian meal—spaghetti and meatballs.  A few hours later I walked out of the restaurant with a take-home bag. And then, there was the man. He hadn’t moved from his spot. He was in the exact same position as holiday shoppers crowded the sidewalks. I sat my bag of leftovers beside him without saying a word feeling fairly self-satisfied. But then, we hadn’t gone a half of a block before I began to question what I had done. I left him a bag of leftover spaghetti and no utensils. Why did I do that? Was it to ease my conscience? Did I do it because I wanted to do something but didn’t know what to do? My act costs me nothing but I imagine that the benefit to him was commensurate to what it cost me!   And then I got to wondering, “Was he my Lazarus”; the one who sat outside the rich man’s gate? Was I the rich man in Jesus’ parable?

We are trapped by a system that allows us to believe that we are somehow disconnected from “the other,” “those people,” “the different.”  We label “them” thus taking away not only their humanity but ours as well.

If we are brave enough, humble enough, we can ask God to help us free ourselves from the broken system in which we are trapped, a system not of our own making, one that we have simply inherited and built upon. And, if we are lucky enough, if we are willing to persevere, we can experience the saving,  renewing, and freeing grace of God.

And that, my friends, is a glimpse of grace.

While on a recent flight we passed through clouds and encountered more than a few bumps. The pilot told us that he was going to try to go above the troublesome clouds. Seat belts buckled, for a few moments passing through the clouds was like we were going through a thick fog with dips and bumps. Eventually, though, the clouds thinned, the ride smoothed out and we could see blue sky above the clouds. Above the clouds, the sun shown brightly.
Passing through life’s dark clouds is scary. The bumps, bruises, and setbacks life hands us can be discouraging, even unsettling. We can lose our way, our balance and even our faith. But that doesn’t change the fact that above the darkness, above the storm, above the clouds  the sun still shines. God’s love for us is constant.
That is one of the promises that Jesus gives us…”I am with you always, even until the close of the age.”

Several years ago my newest son-in-law asked me if he could marry my daughter. We have a rather archaic tradition in our family, one that I must admit I started when I asked my wife’s father if I could marry his only daughter. Both of my sons-in-law asked me if they could marry our daughters. It takes a lot of courage. Of course I know that I could never say “no” because by the time I am asked, the question is merely a formality. My newest son-in-law, though, was taking on a bigger challenge, and he knew it.

You see, my daughter has a son by a previous marriage. He has two daughters by a previous marriage. As a minister I know that blended families can be tough to pull off no matter what the circumstances are. For several years I served as a “male figure” to my grandson as his mom balanced being a mom and a career. He became my  Monday “shadow buddy” spending the whole day with me.

One evening my soon-to-be-newest son-in-law called me and asked if we could have a “boys” lunch the following Monday. The place where he worked was closed for a federal holiday and my grandson did not have school. It would just be the three of us.  “Sure”, I said, “I’d like that. Where should I meet you?” He named my grandson’s favorite restaurant.

We ordered our food and then he got  down to “business”.

“I want you to know that I love your grandson. And I love your daughter. I want us to be a family. Do I have your permission to marry her?” I hadn’t expected this but it didn’t come as a surprise, either. What did come as a surprise was the way that he asked. “I love your grandson and I love your daughter. I want us to be a family.” It was a trifecta! No father or grandfather could ask for more.

I remember in John’s gospel that Jesus once told  his disciples that whoever loved him would also love those whom he loved. The statement begs the question, “And who does Jesus love?” Answer, “Those whom God loves”. “And whom does God love”?  Well, John 3: 16 and 17 tells us,  For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son so that whosoever believeth in him shall not perish but have eternal life. God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world but that the world might be saved through him. (my emphasis) Followers of Jesus are called to love those whom God loves: each human being regardless of where they live, whether they are rich or poor, “one of us” or not, the color of their skin, the language they speak, background from which they come, their politics or even their faith tradition. Each one of us are created in the divine image, sons and daughters.

This Love is not easy. It is not about feelings but a matter of the will. It has been said that there are three elements to love; Passion, Emotion and Will. We cannot have Passion 100% of the time. Nor can we feel an Emotional connection 100% of the time. Passion and Emotion are only partially under our control. But our Will, our Will is another matter. We can decide to act in a healthy loving way 100% of the time. The problem is that we just choose not to. Too often we allow fear and worry and public opinion to sway us.

As followers of Jesus we are called to a new way of life, a better way of life, a life that both glorifies God and enjoys God forever. We are called to a life of Love.

This is an address that I delivered to the Class of 2016, Dunlap High School, Dunlap, Illinois

Members of the class of 2016, over 40 ago that I sat where you sit, only mine was in a hot gymnasium and I don’t remember who the speaker was let alone anything that he said that night. This reality humbles me. So, it is with a certain amount of fear and trembling that I stand before you tonight wondering if anything that I may will share with you will not only be memorable, but more importantly, helpful.
Over the years I have collected and shared bits of wisdom that I shared with my daughters and others. Tonight I will share with you random thoughts on how to get the most out of life as you stand on the brink the your life’s next chapter.
First, I believe that God breaks into our lives when we least expect it and often in the most surprising and inopportune ways. All of the great faiths of the world have some variation of this foundational teaching:

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
Over half of the problems of the world would disappear if we would just take this
one elemental teaching to heart.

And this one, from my own tradition:
What does it profit a man (or a woman) to gain the whole world and lose their soul.
Do not confuse your career with your life.
Your career is how you make money.
Your life is is what you invest in others.

Make sure that as you climb the ladder of success that at the end of your life
it was leaning against the right wall.

Yesterday is history.
Tomorrow is a mystery.
Today is a gift.
That is why it is called the Present.

And speaking of Tomorrow,
Tomorrow,
Today will be a memory.
Make it a good one.
Learn the life lessons of the turtle. They are three.
The only way that a turtle gets anywhere is by sticking its neck out;
The turtle defeated the hare because is moved deliberately and steadily;
If you see a turtle on a fence post you can be sure of two things—
it didn’t get there by itself
and it doesn’t belong there.
None of us are self-made so don’t fall for that lie.
You did not choose your parents.
We did not choose the color of our skin,
the place of our birth,
or our DNA.
We are the products of generations that went before us.

Each one of you is unique.
In the history of humanity there has never been anyone else exactly like you.
No one else has ever had your thoughts,
or your experiences.
You are one of a kind.
You have a contribution to our story that only you can make.

Live so that when others think of fairness or kindness
they will think of you.

Be a man or woman of Character;
don’t be a Character.

Ask yourself who you are when no is looking.

Contribute more than you cost.

Take advantage of your opportunities
but do not be opportunistic.

Don’t throw sand in the sandbox.
You know what that means.

Never lick a steak knife…or any knife for that matter, but especially not a steak knife.

You can’t change others; you can only change yourself.
Trying to change others is an exercise in futility.
But, if you change yourself then everyone around you will react differently
because you are different.

Get our of your comfort zone every now and then.

No one cares if you can dance.
No one.
So, If someone asks you to dance,
dance.
And as far as that goes,
ask someone else to dance.

The tongue is like a lit flame:
it can light a darkened room
or burn a forest.

The most destructive thing in the world is gossip.
Don’t do it.
Ever.

Measure everything that you say or write by these four principles:
Is it true.
Is it helpful.
Does it need to be said.
Does it build up or tear down.
Sticks and stones may not break bones
but words will hurt.
Words are like toothpaste,
once said they can never be put back in the tube.

Laugh at yourself
and never laugh at others.

Success is a choice.
so is failure.
Choose the former.

Whether you can or can’t
you’re right.

Eliminate “can’t” from you vocabulary.
Replace it with,
“I haven’t done that yet.”

Don’t confuse fame with success.

It is not the strong that survive
but the adaptable.
The dinosaurs were strong.
We are adaptable.
But then, so it the cockroach.
Don’t be a cockroach.
If you don’t like change,
you’re going to like irrelevance even less.

When elephants fight
the grass gets trampled.

You can’t like everyone
but you can treat everyone with the respect and dignity befitting a child of God.

Don’t put your happiness up for sale.

You’re never wrong to the right thing.

It takes years to build trust
but only a second to destroy it.

Storms make trees grow deeper roots.

I’ll close by paraphrasing Lukas Graham, as he got it just about right.
Once you were seven years old, and you mama told you,
Go make yourself some friends or you’ll be lonely.
Soon you’ll be sixty years old,
and will you think the world is cold
Or will you have a lot of people to warm you?

None of us know what the future holds but deep in our hearts we know in Whose hands the future is held. It is the hope, wish and prayers of everyone gathered here this evening, sitting behind you, that God’s richest blessings will be yours.

Easter is so much more than bunnies and colored eggs.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I like the traditional American trappings of Easter.  As a boy I used to get a solid chocolate Easter bunny each  year.  I’ve always enjoyed coloring hard boiled eggs, first with my mother, then with my daughters and now with my grandchildren.  To this day every time I smell hot vinegar I have a flashback. I hunted Easter eggs in my back yard and love the high pitched scream of excitement when a child finds an egg.

And I miss the Easter bonnets. I know they are hard to see around in a worship service but still, I miss them. So when I say that Easter is about more than bunnies and eggs I am not being a grumpy old man.  I am merely saying that we must be careful not to get so caught up in the trappings of Easter that we tame the radicalness of the Easter message. Easter is about mystery.  It is about Mary and the women silently going to the tomb in the early morning darkness.  It is about the stone rolled away, the grave clothes neatly folded, and a Stranger meeting a couple of disciples on the road to Emmaus. It is about the mystery of miracle and faith. It is about the mystery of life and death and eternity.

After my father died I found in his papers a “faith statement” of sorts. On a time card he wrote, “My variety of Christianity is not one that explains everything. It accepts and appreciates the mystery.”

Yes, Easter is about more than bunnies and eggs. It is about faith.

Source: Glimpse of Grace …”You made it sound easy.”

After worship a parishioner approached me about my sermon on Jesus’ feeding of the 5000 in John’s gospel. “You made it sound easy.” I wasn’t sure if that was an accusation or an observation. In the sermon shared I Linda Cliatt-Wayman’s story about turing around a chronically under-performing, under-functioning inner city school (www.ted.com).

“You made discipleship sound easy,” the parishioner repeated. I weakly protested. “I didn’t mean to. I never said that Ms Cliatt-Wayman’s task was easy. Discipleship certainly isn’t easy. A guy named Bonhoeffer wrote a book about how hard it is to take Jesus seriously. (The Cost of Discipleship)  It’s the hardest work we’ll ever do.”

Walking to my car I reflected upon the short conversation. I thought about the disciples asking Jesus to send the crowd away. Instead Jesus asked them what they had to eat. One of the disciples replied that there was a child in the crowd who had a couple of small fish and some cheap bread. Jesus told them to bring him the fish and bread. He blessed the simple elements and instructed the disciples to distribute them among the crowd. Guess what? There was enough. There was more than enough!

“You made it sound easy.” The words ricocheted in my mind until they settled upon a glimpse of grace. The disciples gave Jesus ALL their resources to Jesus. Not a portion or a proportion but all. When we give all that we have and all that we are to Jesus, He takes it, blesses it and gives it back to us to use in doing the work of the Kingdom.

The hardest thing for we “Westerners” to do, I believe, is to give Jesus our “fish and loaves”…our financial wealth. Like the rich young ruler, we’d rather walk away than follow. Trusting Jesus isn’t easy. Following Him is even harder.

The text message was simple and straight forward. “Bill Thompson died.” I’ve officiated at many funerals over the years. I’ve been the bedside of many people as they passed from this Reality into the Next. Paraphrasing John Donne, I am touched by every person’s death, but Bill’s had a different affect upon me.

I used to have lunch with Bill every three or four weeks when we lived in a small Iowa town. Our lunches were not professional in nature. We simply talked about life. From time to time he would slip into the back of the sanctuary where I preached, abandoning for the weekend his cradle Roman Catholic faith. I last saw Bill fifteen years ago or so at a high school regional basketball game. We hadn’t been in touch for probably a half dozen years prior to that, but when we greeted each other with a “guy-hug” it seemed like we shared a lunch only the week before. We quickly brought each other up to date on what was happening in our respective lives. Then we departed. I didn’t see him again.

I knew that Bill had been sick. I heard it through the grapevine. I should have written him a note or sent a card or made a phone call. I think that he would have appreciated it, but I didn’t do any of those things. I got busy and the thought, the moment left. Then I got the three word text: “Bill Thompson died.” I wished that I had done a better job staying in touch. I wrote a message on the funeral home’s internet memory book, but that is not the same thing.

“Teach us to number our days,” the Psalmist wrote, “that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Wise advice. It is easy for us to forget that each day is precious. Sometimes it takes the death of a lunch-mate, a long ago friend, to remind us of this.