Have I mentioned I am a Steelers fan?

I am beyond a Steeler fan, in fact. Like all true Steeler football fans, we are not just enthusiastic about our team, we are truly fanatical. We know when the draft is and we know who we are anticipating adding to the team. We know when training camp is, where it is and what days we can go and get pictures. Steeler fans will travel almost any distance to see a Steeler game, often showing up in Atlanta and Cincinnati and Tenessee and every where else the Steelers visit on the road, dressed in black and gold, carrying their Terrible Towels and fuzzy team logo blankets and settle in for a game as if they were in their own back yard.

I once visited Cincinnati to see a Steeler game and while our tickets were in the nosebleed section and surely should have been for Cincy fans, we were hardly the only black and gold fans in the stadium. At one point when the team was driving the ball down the field the crowd seemed to be singing in one voice that echoed around the stadium "here we go Steelers, here we go". We had with us a friend who is really more a Philadelphia fan that a Steeler Fan. He spent most of the game wondering if we would get beaten for wearing all that black and gold. Strangely enough no one messes with Steelers fans very often, unless of course it is another Steeler fan. I think it's something about the way large groups of them keep appearing, but it could be the zeal they project in competition.

They have had a fairly decent season, certainly some highs and lows but currently it is all glorious. Today they became the AFC champions and will go on to the Superbowl. This is such good news that I am certainly doing the happy dance and feeling so proud of my hometown. I had to leave the game about half time to go to a worship service for a Chrysalis weekend. I truly felt torn about where to be, at home cheering on my team, at church supporting our teens. So I compromised and I went to worship but I brought my cell phone and my wonderful family sent me text messages and kept me informed about what was happening.

I understand this is definitely cheating. I was not fully engaged in worship, I was very much distracted and my prayers were extremely focused on discussing my desire that the kids were having an amazing weekend as well as my team scoring a lot and winning the game. As we entered communion time I began to feel somewhat convicted and tried to focus on the service only my phone buzzed and I just really wanted to know what it said. It was probably several minutes after the game was over and we had won before I felt I could legitimately look and not feel guilt for being unfocused.

It has nothing to do with first loves. I am confident of this. I love God first and foremost and football is not in competition with God for time and priority in my life. I make it through the off season without too much withdrawal. I will admit to reading the hometown paper on line and follow what is happening with the team but not every day. I have missed some games because of other events and I have stopped going into mourning until Wednesday the weeks we don't win. I only wear black and gold during the games though I do drink out of my Steeler coffee mug year round. I am trying to manage the mania.

Tonight I might have failed. I wore my black and gold to worship, I confessed my sins of distraction during communion but I also interceded for my team. I did not check my phone during the prayer for the kids and the leadership but the minute we said amen I was on it. When we had won it was very hard not to interrupt worship to give thanks publicly. I would like a little credit. I was present after all. I greeted all of the kids with a hug and told them I was praying for them at the right moment. Perhaps not single minded focus, but partial credit for faithfulness.

Is God a Steeler fan? How could He not be?! I suspect God is a fan of all of His children and perhaps wishes we would take some of that passion and apply it to our relationship with Him. Where one day we might spontaneous erupt with 'here we go Jesus here we go'. I think God would be honored if one day at a Steeler game, I missed a play or two because I was checking my cellphone to see if worship touched someones heart and they came forward to make a public confession of faith. A real touch down with eternal implications.

I am not giving up my Steelers, and I am not going to feel less passionate about the game, but I do want to take some of that passion and carry it over to my walk with God. I want to truly yearn for time with Him, to be excited about His kingdom that never has an off season. God always wins that Superbowl, and if we just choose to play for the home team, so do we.

Not to say that I am biased but, it will be real nice if that same kind of victory could spill over in two weeks for my Steelers!

The Growing Rumble

I have for sometime, as long as I can remember, had this feeling of dissatisfaction over the state of the union within the Mainline Church. I have felt a sense of outrage at the clergy on the whole and the mess the churches seemed to be in. I have met other devout believers who's solution was to leave the Mainline Church and to become part of the non-denominational churches, because they had a higher standard and encouraged others to adopt a higher standard for themselves. Sure they saw these churches as having the potential to be legalistic or personality driven. They knew there were things they had to be careful about, and were. But they found in the Mainline Church a blandness of keeping the status quo with no standards that might be divisive and confrontational so that they found it was better to take the risks and go someplace that fed them, rather than stay where they had always been and starved to death. For a long time, I agreed with them.

When I ended up in a Mainline Church after a move to Kentucky, I was both frustrated for myself and embarrassed to tell my friends where I was in church. I tried not to be in a Mainline Church, trust me. I hauled my family to every church in Western Kentucky when after months of trying ever flavor and variation we could find, my son chose our church because they had a boy scout troop and he wanted to be a boy scout. I stayed in the church though I found the worship flat and the spirituality shallow. I kept wondering why on earth I was in this church. I prayed with intensity that God would change the Church and make it a light on a hill and a witness to the community or He would move me. There were moments when I bailed on the light on a hill and just pleaded to be moved.

I fell in love with the people there. They are darling wonderful people and in them I often saw my Father's eyes, heard His voice and felt His presence. It was enough mostly to sustain me, though often I was angry that there wasn't more. There were several moments that confirmed every judgement I had every made about church leadership and I was finding all of my nourishment came from Sunday School and folks outside the church. Thank God for CFO and the Emmaus community, I might never have found deeper waters.

Several years ago, I accepted a call to ministry and went to work at my Mainline Church. I struggled with these like a tiger, confronting my own frustrations with the church and the responsibility to support it. I found myself distancing myself ever further from it's leadership and judging it with even more severity. I was lost and wondering if I had heard right or had jumped into the fire from the frying pan. I wanted to be a part of the process that God uses to call His people further in, higher up. I wanted the church to be a part of the process too. I wanted the church to be the church but I kept running into people who preferred to play church.

My first trip to the Annual Conference was enough to send me home to pack my clothes and move as far away as I could. It was a miserable experience, I was sure God had never been invited to an Annual Conference. I know God is everywhere and I know that nothing can ever seperate us from the love of God and for this I am very thankful. Conference is the closest I wantto get to testing this.

Gradually, in the Mainline Church, I began to find others like me. First it was one voice here and there, then there were more and now, the voices are beginning to be loud enough to be a hum of change. I used to be so shocked when I heard another voice talking about discipleship, hungering for more, moving from the scriptural to the spiritual, sacraficial, sacramental. I would stop in my tracks, and in my excitement, wish like Peter to build a shelter and stay forever. I am still so happy when I find someone who's hearts cry is for more of God but I am less shocked. I am sure God is calling up many and how exciting to be allowed to see such a wonderful time of renewal and remembering.

There are more and more within the Mainline Church. Many more that God is calling home again. There is a pride in the heritage given us by the faithful who have gone before us, and a realization that we do stand on the foundation they made strong. There is a hunger to both know more of God and share more of God with others. There is a great deal of interest and concern over how we share our faith with others and invite them in than I have heard for a long time. We are discussing worship and education and resources with an eye for excellence. Those who are being successful are sharing their best practices and many are taking advantage of the opportunity to learn.

We are far from on the home stretch. Some days I could just cry over those who want to keep the status quo, even though it is the path to certain death. I had someone tell me today why it was they couldn't do work that could mean turning their church around. They are busy and they have grandchildren. Gosh. I guess I didn't have an answer for that.

Still, if you stop and listen you will hear it. It's not quite a force yet, but it is growing in momentum and by the grace of God, I believe it is going to become a climate change. One day very soon, it is my prayer that those in the non- denominational churches will feel less seperates us than currently. I pray that our discipleship process is second to none and what people see when they look at Mainline Churches are transformed lives; A light on a hill, the hands and feet of Christ to the world around us.

I am not quite to proud yet of my Mainline Church, but I am closer every day. I have great hope for what God will do. I hope He will let me be one of the noise makers, no matter how small. I want my grandchildren and their children to stand on the solid foundation this generation will secure for them. The sound of God's people crying out for God's face.

Second Verse, same as the first

Anyone remember a song about Henry VIII that had that line, "Second verse, same as the first"? I don't remember who sang it, though I know with google as a ready resource there is no excuse for not knowing. It's that today I am lazy and I do not want to take the time to look it up. Not only that but I am using a borrowed computer and none of the things work like my things. I do not know why this should be the case. I would think if I like it to be a certain way, everyone should feel similarly inclined. What would the point be otherwise. I mean, lets get real here. I do stuff that makes sense. Always.... Mostly. I intend to do that anyway.


Back on topic, here we are in January and I am working hard to stick to my plans for 2009. I am trying to do my Bible study every day. I am going to the gym at least three times a week, and I am trying hard to eat more sensibly. I am looking at time management and trying to make sure I am taking care of all my people. Only daggone it, something goes wrong from time to time. I don't know what the something is. I don't plan for it to go wrong, if you know what I mean. I have often failed because I made my schedule so doggone rigid that one deviation and the whole thing sunk. So I was intentional about making sure that didn't happen. I looked at my calendar and didn't do several things I would have enjoyed doing because....they didn't fit in and I was trying not to overload my time. I have been thinking a little before I put things into my mouth and I allowed a wonderful butter cream frosting laden piece of cake to be tossed after only a bite or two. Wait! Is that the sound of a bell ringing somewhere? Surely I have earned my wings by now! Is it okay to quit now?


I will admit I am the worst person at tolerating people who think intention is all that matters. That thinking good things, and even going good places should be enough. There is no accomplishment and I find this infuriating not only because there is no change but also, because they are so smug and satisfied because they talked about, because they agreed it was a good idea. Because they read the book, attended the seminar, because they got their card punched. I am scathing in my criticism of such behavior and I constantly demanding they step up, work hard, by gosh accomplish something.


Then these resolutions come around and the truth is revealed. I am carping at my own image in the mirror. I am when it comes to personal commitment to follow through just as intention based verses of accomplishment based as anyone. I am pleased as punch to have made the effort and feel it is okay not to want to ride it out in the day to day, one foot in front of the other, living it out. I tried is enough. The second verse, the same as the first.I am committing to changing the song. I am determined that by the grace of God this year, I will sing a different kind of verse, one about daggone it I have screwed up but I am starting again. One about not finished but moving forward, not home, but heading in that direction. I know, of course, I cannot will myself to stick it out, try harder, get it right. I promise you, I am driven enough that if that is all it took, we would be finished.  I know God meets us in perseverance and faithful surrender to His will. He wants to write a new second verse for all of us. One about His mercy new every morning and one about His grace being sufficient and His redeeming nature making those places once broken, whole. Want to read a second verse? Check out the Bible; the Psalms are full of them, as are the Old Testament, the Gospels, the letters. It wasn't about getting in and stopping, filled with great intentions and low expectations. It is about getting in, dreaming big and, in partnership with the Holy Spirit, learning to sing a new song.


I am ready for a new verse, the old one has lost it's charm and it's familiarity no longer is enough comfort. I am ready for more, God is waiting to teach me more. I hope this verse rocks! I think I can already hear the drum line.

Putting the fun in dysfunctional

My trip to the hometown reminds me of the realities of family too. I can't remember who first said my family put the fun in dysfunctional, but it is a great line. I am pretty sure most families can relate in some way. I mean, look at the Brady Bunch. Sure it was a great house, but the kids all needed psychiatric intervention.

I have had some time to consider all the dysfunctions I might identify within my own family. We have a tremendous tendency to retreat rather than state our anger or annoyance. I don't mean temporarily, this is most likely a very wise thing to do. No, I mean, we tend to take our stuff and go home. For a long time. We hardly ever had a fight though. Someone does something we find annoying and we disappear for years at a time. Often leaving the person who has offended us perplexed as to what caused the annoyance. The continued absence is I think our way of making sure someone knows there has been an offense but we do not claim that at all. We just say to ourselves, I am not putting up with that and poof, we are gone. I thought this was unique to my family but I think it is more of a cultural trait either from our heritage or our region, because many of my friends and extended family do the same thing. No declared warfare, just withdrawal. I guess it is a product of avoid confrontation at all costs, but it is really hard to resolve.

Which leads me to dysfunction two, the land where there is no resolution. I had a frank discussion with my brother a couple of years ago when he told me how it was on a Thanksgiving day some where in time memorial, he and another brother got into a fight and I sided with the other brother. I am sure this was a painful memory for him, I just have absolutely no recollection of this. None whatsoever. I said as much which was even more annoying. I suppose if I had been carrying around this painful moment and discovered that the party who made me so mad had no recollection, I would be incensed too. I hope I would also stop and wonder if the problem wasn't me carrying it around...maybe. But this would be certainly running counter culture. I am stunned to hear, no matter where I go, a catalogue of offenses the the party in the first part is recanting about a party in the second part we both know. I am not talking last week, or even last month or perhaps last year. I am talking about high school, or elementary school. Gosh, I have a hard time remembering anything from elementary school except Ms. McGhehee who made me put my desk in the closet and old Lady White who I am sure is still terrorizing children somewhere. I also remember pretty well, I was a wild child and all of them had their hands full with me and my, "I tell ya what" attitude. Yes and Scott Clark kicked me in the nose with his cowboy boots once. I am not still mad though because I whooped him on any number of occasions to even the score.

My mom, bless her sweet heart, crosses back and forth between being an instigator and a peacemaker. It's a full time job, I tell you. I suppose she has had years of practice and had to adjust from being a country girl who was taught that family was everything and you worked out your irritations or let them go, to a city girl who had to deal with folks who thought their annoyance was everything and took their ball and went home all the time. I think I might have gone home myself. Only I was the bridge, I stayed and beat up everyone who annoyed me. Goodness, why didn't they make me a role model?

Dysfunction is reality, I think. Learning to live with it with grace is divine intervention. I hope we remember that, look for that and give thanks for that.

Reflections in Review

Today I took a tour of the old home town. I didn't really mean to do so, only I think I zigged when I should have zagged and I ended up in a section of Pittsburgh I haven't been to for more than twenty years. It was fun! It was funny to recognize parks, and streets and remember looking for an apartment over a bar that smelled just like rotten apples I drove past a park that Gus and Yaya were legends and sold snow cones. I stumbled upon the Steelers Stadium and Pirates Stadium and I feel in love with the skyline again. It was a fun trip, though none of it is exactly as it was twenty years ago.

This is entirely appropriate. I am not exactly as I was twenty years ago. It would have been sort of strange to have found the place in a frozen state of time, just waiting for me to stumble back. I liked finding a few memories though. I liked discovering though that they still have a place for me. Somewhere amidst all the new construction and road design, the shopping centers that have moved in and the businesses that replaced the old ones, I caught sight of a memory or two.

There, where Walgreen's now stands proudly on the corner which now boasts a stoplight, used to stand a Dairy Queen. It was a landmark not only for the wonderful taste treats and the hanging out in the parking lot, but also because they employed me for a summer. Only they paid me less than minimum wage because I was a trainee. I stayed a trainee all summer. Go figure. I think I still won that particular war though because they may not have paid me well, but I ate my weight in brownies and ice cream and various and sundry food items. Like the deep fried mushrooms. Yum. This is the place where a very large muscular man once dumped a blizzard on the counter because according to the advertising you should be able to turn over the cup and it should stay put. The guy who was working with me made the blizzard and turned white when it went all over the counter. He stood looking at me with horror said repeatedly, what do I do now, what do I do now? I said, make him another one... I don't think we said duh in those days. But we no doubt thought it.

I drove past the Salvation Army Harbor Light's Center, or at least where it used to be. I didn't see it. I remember working there though! I was the
receptionist/bookkeeper for a year. It was an interesting job, to say the least. Perhaps the best story was the guy who was staying at the center named Jesse. He wrote me love notes every morning and offered to make me the mother of nations. I think it was when he left me a kiss puff that his lips had brushed against 100 times that he was sent for psychiatric evaluation. Or maybe the man who came in and told me that he had delivered babies during the Vietnam War. I thought he was fairly sane until he told me that when women who are older have babies, they are born with teeth and he had a scar from being bitten. That's when I called the Vets Admin and told them I had one of theirs.

Or perhaps the park, just down the street from where the Center had been. It looked remarkably the same with the same exercise equipment and playground. I remembered visiting it at lunch time and seeing a homeless man, in a huge tee shirt and large baggy sweatpants taking food from the garbage can. I remember watching and thinking this must be as down and out as you could get, not only eating others trash but picking for it in broad daylight. I was a baby in those days, very naive and innocent about much in life, strangely wise and experienced in others. I think back to what I knew then and what I didn't know, and I am astonished that much of me is very like the ever so young lady trying to start adult life. I still am somewhat naive and innocent about somethings, very wise and experienced about others. Time has changed the areas but not the outlook.

I am remembering memories I have intentionally remembered before. Some are like old wounds that from time to time I poke to see if they still hurt. Some do, some have healed up and just a scar remains to remind me of the injury. I am grateful for the healing, wondering if a time comes when all is healed and no emotional response is stirred. I hope so.

I am sitting in the home where I grew up. I cannot imagine how it is that we put six people in this tiny house with one bathroom. I stand in my bedroom and think not only did I fit into this room with all my worldly possessions, my sister did too.
One bathroom, think about that?! And we weren't alone, I had only one friend with two bathrooms and that wasn't until we were in high school and her parents remodeled.
I remember sitting on the bedroom, hiding with my back to the dresser, feet on the heat vent and book in hand. I guess that was what we considered personal space. I also remembered that when you took a bath you had to pull the curtain a lot so that other family members could use the facilities. This no doubt lead to my phobia of going to the bathroom in groups. And I remember my siblings and I going to bed and chatting with one another. This didn't last long, my older siblings being MUCH older (my emphasis not theirs) were away from home before too long, but for a few years we used to fall asleep being goofy and making fun of our next door neighbor, Gil Capone, whom we did not like.

I have recently become a fan of a contemporary worship song that contains the line, 'who I am is who I've been'. I discover this is true, I am who I have been. But not only who I have been. I had a professor tell me that our roots are God's gift to us, not always perhaps what we would have wished but foundational to what God will do. Our choice is to live in a way that reflects God's glory through them, or to shut the door. I think it's a good time to shine the light and watch the glory.

Christmas Traditions

It's that delightful moment on Christmas morning. The presents are unwrapped and everyone is happy and enjoying their gifts. The ham is in the oven and it's Christmas nap time. I love Christmas nap time. It is the best nap of the year. It's that wonderful, my responsibilities are finished, I am free moment when there is nothing left that has to be done but rest. It doesn't last long, it's a small block of time between the unwrapping and the dinner preparations, but it is wonderful.

The Christmas nap is a custom that has long been handed down in my family. My parents would get up with us at the crack of dawn, or prior to the crack of dawn,watch us unwrap all of our wonderful presents and then go back to bed. As the years went by, we all got up, all unwrapped and all went back to bed, or at least my sister and I did. When my kids got old enough to be up without me I would be back in bed the minute the tape was off the last gift and all the ohhhh's and ahhhh's had faded. It is a tradition that should be practiced by all. Many times extended family has called our home and talked to the husband while I was snoozing away. I don't know why they didn't know it was time to sleep. Good thing he doesn't need to nap as long as I do.


I personally prefer the holiday tradition where the Christmas nap is followed by the Christmas bath. This is not for cleanliness purposes. This is for lying in soft warm soapy water, book in hand and the family locked on the other side of the door. "Honey, the house is on fire!" "That's okay, this is the way I want to go."
The book that always goes with me on Christmas is Will Mrs. Major Go to Hell? which is a collection of writings by Aloise Buckley Heath. My parents got this book for me a long time ago because they thought she was someone I would enjoy and would relate to, and they were completely right. There is much in her writings that I identify completely with, and get tickled by and think I know this person, she is living my life!!! It is the perfect Christmas read. It has no profound truth, it inspires no response but total enjoyment. Ah, the rest to simply enjoy without agenda. Who would have thought such a thing still existed?! I think the secret lays in the date it was written, while I was in my infancy. I think it explains a lot.

The book also makes me think of my dad. My dad loved this book and wanted me to share his enthusiasm, which was easy. I think that's how it is some time when you have a strong response to things. You want others to feel the same way and it's so comforting when they do. I will read something that makes me giggle and I wish for my dad because he would giggle too. He has been gone for a long time, I think this is the 10th Christmas, but Mrs. Major makes him very alive to me. I can see his eyes twinkle when he tells you something he enjoys. I like to think that in eternity with God, his eyes sparkle all the time.

Another wonderful Christmas tradition we need to celebrate is the giving and receiving of homemade goodies. I mean when others give them to me and I receive. This is a wonderful thing and I am concerned it could be fading. You people out there need to hold fast to these traditions. I cannot make fudge or all those wonderful Christmas cookies. I need you to keep this up!

The tradition that means the most to me is in the week that follow Christmas in preparation of the New Year. I always take some time and try to reflect on the changes in my children over the last year. To think about all God has done in our lives, to see all the ground we covered and to celebrate some of the successes. I try to make a record of funny things people have said, times when I got teary or was surprised by God's grace. I want to savor the gifts in the last year so I can remember to take them with me into the next.

There are lots of traditions that make this season magical. I would write more but we are cutting into the nap/bath and this cannot be permitted. May this day fill you with the awe and wonderful of a God so big and so powerful yet loving His creation so much that He became a part of it, to show us the way home. And as you celebrate take a moment to say thank you, and enjoy His sabbath rest.

Sliding In

We are in the midst of defrosting from an ice storm. We got ice first, snow afterwards and it made for a royal mess. We have more snow equipment now than when I arrived in Kentucky more than ten years ago. I can remember the first year here when a little snow, blowing across the road was a big problem. Born and raised in Pittsburgh, PA, I know how to do snow. I know how to do ice too, you stay home! I know when you are sliding you are supposed to turn into the slide and there was a time when I didn't even have to think about it, I just did it naturally. I am out of practice now. I wonder if the instincts would kick in.

Yesterday, after the main roads were cleared, I went into work, taking Mr. Sam along since schools are still closed. We had no troubles getting in until we hit the church parking lot. It was solid ice and would have been funny had I not wondered how we were going to get from the car to the building. My car has all wheel drive and I have always been impressed by this but never used this feature until we hit the parking lot. It came in very handy then!

Our policy is to park away from the building and allow visitors to take the spaces closer in. I violated this policy with no guilt whatsoever. I would have driven up to the door but with all the ice, I thought it entirely possible the car would slide right through the door. While this would have solved my walking on ice dilemma, I suspected the trustees would be vocal about a car in the hallway. They are mighty particular.

Mr. Sam and I began the cautious journey into the building. It was less than 15 feet. It took about three hours. Okay, that is an exaggeration, but we were taking baby steps followed by a lot of 'ohhhhh's as we slid and lost footing and giggled at our slow progress. I could see the news feed. Women breaks leg in icy parking lot, trustees say it was her own darn fault. I suppose it would have been.

When I feel out of control, I have the same kind of reaction going on in my head and my tummy. Regardless of the circumstance, it's a very uncomfortable feeling to be unable to take a sure step, to feel that the ground I thought was secure is sliding away from beneath me. It isn't often due to ice, it is much more likely to be a new situation, a problem I thought I had resolved, a matter of faith. When control goes and I am dependent on baby steps, a lot of sliding and a good chuckle or two, I remember that God is really always in control. Sometimes, because I think the ground is solid and I think I know what I am doing, I am deluded into believing I am in control. I am not sure a little ice storm is a bad thing every once in awhile. I need reminding. I bet I have company.