Come Away

Perhaps I have spent too many years of my life in school, but summer is always the time for rest, renewal, and recalibration. There is muscle-memory in me from childhood that recalls the freedom felt at the end of June when school let out. I’d look at my report card, recall all that I had done during the school year, and then throw it aside and enjoy the “lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer.”

I think that this is something that Jesus was trying to teach the disciples. In Mark 6, Jesus sends out the apostles on a mission. In twos, they are told to go from village to village and share the Good News. “They went out and preached that people should repent. ¹³ They drove out many demons and anointed many sick people with oil and healed them.” (Mark 6: 12-13)

When they returned, they were excited to share with Jesus all they had said and done. Jesus, knowing that the demands of ministry never go away, said to them “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” (Mark 6: 31)

Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest awhile.

How do you give yourself a place of solitude, so you can rest? We live in an era with such great technology that we can work anywhere, but that also means we can work all the time. When was the last time you offered yourself a deserted place, a quiet place, a place where you can be still and listen to the sound of your own breathing?

It is in the spaces of rest that we can reflect on our lives, our work, and our ministry. We can identify those things that we are doing that give us life, those things that invite death, and then make changes so that when we return to our scheduled lives, we can let go of those things that don’t bring us life.

Softly and tenderly, Jesus is calling: “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.”

Seeking and Finding Forgiveness

I was listening to the radio today and a segment came on about missed connections. A woman talked with great anguish about a time when she was in grade school. She had a favorite seat on the school bus and one day a girl was sitting in it. She was so upset that her seat was taken that she bit the girl on the finger. 

She talked about the guilt she has carried for many years because of her action. She has tried to find that young girl over the years but to no avail. Twenty five years later, she retold the story on the radio in the hopes that the person she bit might actually be listening. If so, could she possibly forgive her? 

We all carry guilt over something we’ve done—or not done. Sometimes this guilt weighs us down like a stone and makes us feel like we’re drowning. At other times it sneaks up on us when we least expect, making us feel inadequate and filled with self-doubts. What guilt do you carry? Whose forgiveness do you yearn for? Who might be waiting to be released from their own guilt through your offer of forgiveness?

Colossians 3:12-13 reads: “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you”. 

Forgiveness is core to the Christian faith. It is what releases us from sin and brokenness. It frees us to live into the life God intends. 

Our churches ought to be the places where we get to practice compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. We should be so thoroughly steeped in these virtues that our living is changed. And part of this comes from our ability to give and receive forgiveness as we have received it from God. In this way, amazing grace spills in, through and among us in abundance. 

The woman on the radio has been seeking forgiveness for 25 years. May you experience forgiveness’s liberating power so that any brokenness may find release and healing. May you pass it on to those who are hungry to hear words of forgiveness. Then, may you all put into practice compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. 

Earthkeeping

For the past two weeks, I have been traveling to all the conference camps (eight, but we only visited seven because our rental RV had trouble negotiating the unpaved road to Camp on the Boulder in Montana!). We traveled 3200 miles—all within the Mountain Sky Conference. Our conference is

more than 400,000 square miles, so there’s a lot of land to cover!

Our camps are situated in gorgeous places, but then again, our entire area bears testimony to God’s artistry. Plains and prairie, soaring mountains, glacial streams, red rock formations…each mile caused us to delight in God’s handiwork as we oo-ed and ah-ed are way around our conference. Yet, we also saw the devastating power of nature: the remains of forest fires and floods were evidenced as we toured (and please keep in your prayers those who are being impacted by the fires across our area).

As much as the modern world has tried to distance us from the natural world, we are deeply connected to it. Our farmer and ranchers have much to teach the rest of us about this intimate connection. How we care for the earth and other living things is directly connected to our own well-being. The Evangelical Lutheran Church of America calls this “Earthkeeping”. They write:

“Earthkeeping is a term being used by many people of faith to describe the nature of our responsibility to care for creation. It springs from our wonder, awe, and gratitude for God’s wisdom, creativity, and blessings that fill the natural world. It also grows out of our dismay and concern for the degradations and “groaning” of God’s good creation. Faithful earthkeeping involves extending the justice, peace, reconciliation, hope, and love of Christ to all creation. In caring for the Earth, we also deepen our relationship with God and with one another, making our faith more alive and relevant, in and to a broken world.”

Take a moment to give thanks to God for creation. May you sing as the Psalmist in Psalm 104”

O my soul, bless God! God, my God, how great you are!
    beautifully, gloriously robed, Dressed up in sunshine, and all heaven stretched out for your tent.

You built your palace on the ocean deeps, made a chariot out of clouds and took off on wind-wings. You commandeered winds as messengers, appointed fire and flame as ambassadors. You set earth on a firm foundation so that nothing can shake it, ever. You blanketed earth with ocean, covered the mountains with deep waters;

Then you roared and the water ran away— your thunder crash put it to flight. Mountains pushed up, valleys spread out in the places you assigned them. You set boundaries between earth and sea; never again will earth be flooded.

You started the springs and rivers, sent them flowing among the hills. All the wild animals now drink their fill, wild donkeys quench their thirst. long the riverbanks the birds build nests, ravens make their voices heard.

You water the mountains from your heavenly cisterns; earth is supplied with plenty of water. You make grass grow for the livestock, hay for the animals that plow the ground.

Oh yes, God brings grain from the land, wine to make people happy,

Their faces glowing with health, a people well-fed and hearty. God’s trees are well-watered—the Lebanon cedars God planted. Birds build their nests in those trees; look—the stork at home in the treetop. Mountain goats climb about the cliffs; badgers burrow among the rocks.

The moon keeps track of the seasons, the sun is in charge of each day. When it’s dark and night takes over, all the forest creatures come out. The young lions roar for their prey, clamoring to God for their supper.

When the sun comes up, they vanish, lazily stretched out in their dens. Meanwhile, men and women go out to work, busy at their jobs until evening. What a wildly wonderful world, God! You made it all, with Wisdom at your side, made earth overflow with your wonderful creations.

Yes! What a wildly wonderful world!

For the past two weeks, I have been traveling to all the conference camps (eight, but we only visited seven because our rental RV had trouble negotiating the unpaved road to Camp on the Boulder in Montana!). We traveled 3200 miles—all within the Mountain Sky Conference. Our conference is more than 400,000 square miles, so there’s a lot of land to cover!

Our camps are situated in gorgeous places, but then again, our entire area bears testimony to God’s artistry. Plains and prairie, soaring mountains, glacial streams, red rock formations…each mile caused us to delight in God’s handiwork as we oo-ed and ah-ed are way around our conference. Yet, we also saw the devastating power of nature: the remains of forest fires and floods were evidenced as we toured (and please keep in your prayers those who are being impacted by the fires across our area).

As much as the modern world has tried to distance us from the natural world, we are deeply connected to it. Our farmer and ranchers have much to teach the rest of us about this intimate connection. How we care for the earth and other living things is directly connected to our own well-being. The Evangelical Lutheran Church of America calls this “Earthkeeping”. They write:

“Earthkeeping is a term being used by many people of faith to describe the nature of our responsibility to care for creation. It springs from our wonder, awe, and gratitude for God’s wisdom, creativity, and blessings that fill the natural world. It also grows out of our dismay and concern for the degradations and “groaning” of God’s good creation. Faithful earthkeeping involves extending the justice, peace, reconciliation, hope, and love of Christ to all creation. In caring for the Earth, we also deepen our relationship with God and with one another, making our faith more alive and relevant, in and to a broken world.”

Take a moment to give thanks to God for creation. May you sing as the Psalmist in Psalm 104”

O my soul, bless God! God, my God, how great you are!
    beautifully, gloriously robed, Dressed up in sunshine, and all heaven stretched out for your tent.

You built your palace on the ocean deeps, made a chariot out of clouds and took off on wind-wings. You commandeered winds as messengers, appointed fire and flame as ambassadors. You set earth on a firm foundation so that nothing can shake it, ever. You blanketed earth with ocean, covered the mountains with deep waters;

Then you roared and the water ran away— your thunder crash put it to flight. Mountains pushed up, valleys spread out in the places you assigned them. You set boundaries between earth and sea; never again will earth be flooded.

You started the springs and rivers, sent them flowing among the hills. All the wild animals now drink their fill, wild donkeys quench their thirst. long the riverbanks the birds build nests, ravens make their voices heard.

You water the mountains from your heavenly cisterns; earth is supplied with plenty of water. You make grass grow for the livestock, hay for the animals that plow the ground.

Oh yes, God brings grain from the land, wine to make people happy,

Their faces glowing with health, a people well-fed and hearty. God’s trees are well-watered—the Lebanon cedars God planted. Birds build their nests in those trees; look—the stork at home in the treetop. Mountain goats climb about the cliffs; badgers burrow among the rocks.

The moon keeps track of the seasons, the sun is in charge of each day. When it’s dark and night takes over, all the forest creatures come out. The young lions roar for their prey, clamoring to God for their supper.

When the sun comes up, they vanish, lazily stretched out in their dens. Meanwhile, men and women go out to work, busy at their jobs until evening. What a wildly wonderful world, God! You made it all, with Wisdom at your side, made earth overflow with your wonderful creations.

Yes! What a wildly wonderful world!