The Rise and fall of king david

On July 7th, we will begin a four-week sermon series entitled “The Rise and Fall of King David.” The Old Testament lectionary readings for these Sundays come from the book of 2nd Samuel. The sermon series will look like this:

July 7 2nd Samuel 5:1-5 They Anointed Him King

14 2nd Samuel 6:1-5; 12-19 Dancing a Holy Jig

21 2nd Samuel 7:1-14 Building the House of the Lord

28 2nd Samuel 12:1-13 You Are the Man!

David is one of the more fascinating figures in the Bible. His story is, well…, complicated. He slays the giant, writes the 23rd Psalm, leads ancient Israel to great heights. But he is also a flawed character. He has an affair with Bathsheba and then tries to cover it up.

I think one reason David’s story resonates with us is that we are so much like him. We have the capacity to do great things when we follow God’s will for our lives. But we also have the capacity to do horrible things. There is good and evil in all of us.

We see the complexity of David’s life in the picture above. Painted in 1622 by Gerard van Honthorst, it captures the key elements of his life. He is king, musician, composer. He is surrounded by darkness, and yet he is illuminated by light when he looks to the Lord.

I hope you will join me during the month of July as we study this complicated figure. He has a lot to teach us.

Mr. Hoyt

A few weeks ago, Mount Vernon United Methodist celebrated their 70th anniversary. As part of the festivities, one of the church members shared a little of the history of the church. She had been a member there since the 60’s and had witnessed most of it herself.

During her presentation, she mentioned an organist who served the church many years ago. His name was Warren Hoyt. My ears perked up when I heard his name because he was my route manager when I delivered the Washington Post many years ago. He would drop off my papers at the corner of Franconia Road and South Van Dorn Steet.

The church member spoke of how Mr. Hoyt would drop off the papers for his carriers in the middle of the night and then drive by the church to practice while no one was there. Apparently, there was a switch on the organ that was connected to an outside speaker, and Mr. Hoyt would occasionally trip the switch inadvertently. When he did so the Belle View neighbors would get a free concert at 4:00 in the morning!

Warren Hoyt was a sweet old guy. Generous and kind and patient. He taught me a thing or two about customer service, diligence, and discipline. With his help I earned enough money delivering papers to pay for my first year of college.

At some point, Mr. Hoyt left the Mt. Vernon Church and became the organist at Groveton Baptist. It was there I encountered him again when Jeannine and I got married in 1988 and he played for our wedding.

A few years ago, I ran into his daughter at a high school reunion. I learned that Mr. Hoyt passed away in 2005. His legacy lives on in his three children and six grandchildren.

I share this because it is a reminder to me of how small a world we live in. If we look for them, we can find the ways that we are connected to the people around us. Since that anniversary celebration, every time I walk into Mount Vernon I think of my old route manager. I’m grateful for the life lessons he taught me, which brought me to a temporary worship space where we both did ministry.

Let’s Break Some Ground

Last Sunday was a watershed moment in the life of our church. We gathered on the construction site of our new building for a Groundbreaking Ceremony. Pictured above from left to right are German Prado (Pastor of La Hermosa), Michelle Matthews (Pastor of Kingstowne Communion), Bart Purdy (Pastor of Virginia Hills), Rodney Lusk (Franconia District Supervisor), Mark Sickles (Virginia House of Delegates), and Vicky Madden (Burke and Herbert Bank).

There were several other honored guests in attendance, including Betsy Hudson (Pastor of Mount Vernon United Methodist Church), Jody Faig (Baptist General Association of Virginia), Dean Stiles (Coldwell Banker Richard Ellis), Amanda Garber (Virginia Conference, United Methodist Church), Karen Stewart (Executive Director of Brightview Alexandria), Tom Ramirez and Slade Elkins (Elkins-Ramirez Architects), David Canfield (Bean, Kinney, & Korman Attorneys), and Glen and Regina Miller (Miller Brothers Construction).

We prayed together, read Ezra 3:10-13, read responsively, had a moment of silence for those who have gone before us, sang a song, and then busted some ground.

Of course, the ceremony was largely symbolic. Construction has not yet begun as we wait for building permits from Fairfax County. And while we have 88% of our construction costs available from the land sale, we are waiting to hear if several loan applications have been approved. Last Thursday we mailed a Capital Campaign brochure asking for pledges and donations for the project.

This is an exciting time, but also a stressful one. After 8 years of planning, strategizing, waiting, and praying, we have almost reached the starting line. And so much can still go wrong. But I believe this is God’s will for our congregation. And I believe he will get it done. Keep the faith my friends, for as it says in Philippians 1:6, “He who began a good work in you, will be faithful to complete it.”

Chest X-Ray

I am sure many of you noticed my recent cough. It started in March after one of our preschoolers sneezed in my face. I never knew working with small children could be so dangerous.

I was sitting in the living room watching TV when I noticed a rattle deep in my chest. As hard as I tried, I was not able to cough anything up. It sounded awful, and every time I coughed my wife winced. After a week she demanded that I see the doctor. A round of drugs and two weeks later I was still coughing, so it was back to the doctor. Finally, I started to feel better, and then a week later it all started again.

Another visit to the doctor, another round of drugs, and a week later I was still coughing. Back to the Doc I went, and he sent me to have a chest X-Ray. Through the wonders of modern technology, I had the results before I had even gotten home. They were emailed to me. The last time I got a chest X-Ray that was not even a remote possibility. And the X-Ray showed, well…nothing! Nada, nil, naught, zilch.

When I shared the good news with my wife, she said, “Okay, what now?” The doctor had said something about seeing a pulmonologist, so I expected him to call with a referral. But when I woke up the next morning, the coughing had subsided dramatically. I only coughed four times that morning. The next day I had practically stopped coughing altogether.

This morning, Nancy, the office manager at Mt. Vernon Methodist, asked me how I felt. She had the misfortune of listening to me hacking for weeks. I told her the above story and she said, “All it took was an X-Ray! Next time, get an X-Ray first!”

I am not sure about the curative powers of X-Rays, but I do know that with some viruses, the best you can do is wait it out. That is not easy to do, but sometimes the best cure is patience.

We are in a season of waiting at Virginia Hills. Our groundbreaking ceremony is this Sunday, May 19th at 1:00. But as of this writing, we still do not have a date that work will get started. The best guess of our contractor is about four weeks. That means the project should be finished in time for next year’s virus.

As the Israelites wandered in the wilderness for 40 years, so we wander in the wilderness of Fairfax County building permit delays. When I get overwhelmed, our project manager, Steve Harris, tells me, “It will all be okay. By this time next year, you will be sitting in your new office.” We must be patient, trust in God, and wander a little longer. If that does not work, we can always get an X-Ray.

Shoveling Dirt and Praying for Blessings

Well friends, we are about to hit another milestone in our building project. Our groundbreaking ceremony is scheduled for May 19th at 12:30. Miller Brothers Construction, along with several special guests, will be at our old site to formally kick off construction.

Let me briefly summarize how we got to this place. It was in November of 2016 that Grace Shamblin asked me if the church had ever considered selling the ballfield. Her question led to a vision of what could be. We began a long process of prayerful discernment to see where God was leading us.

It was in December of 2017 that Brightview Senior Living expressed an interest in buying a portion of our land. After a series of congregational meetings, the church council voted 11-0 to move forward with the Brightview proposal.

At a business meeting on September 30, 2018, the church voted 66-2 to sell 5 acres of our land to Brightview. We selected a building committee and hired Elkins-Ramirez as our architects.

In March of 2020 the world was hit with the Covid-19 pandemic. Construction plans were put on hold. However, in December of that year, we choose Miller Brothers as our construction company.

During most of 2021, we were searching for a temporary site for our church and preschool to meet during construction. The search led to multiple dead ends. Brightview estimated that construction of their building would begin in October of 2022, so we planned for the last service in the old building to be September 25, 2022.

In February of 2022 Mount Vernon United Methodist Church agreed to rent us space for the church and preschool. The preschool opened at the temporary location in September, but delays in obtaining permits caused Brightview to delay the start of their project nine months. We began the arduous task of cleaning out the old building.

Demolition of the old building began in June of 2023. The entire building was gone by July 14 and construction began on the Brightview building. By the spring of 2024 the exterior of the building was almost completed. Just a few weeks ago Miller Brothers gave us the green light for groundbreaking ceremony.

As you can see, this has been a long journey that has taken eight years just to get to the starting line! We have much to do in the next year as we prepare for the next chapter in our church’s history. I hope you can join me on May 19th as we shovel some dirt and pray for God’s blessing.

Mancil Burns

One of the things that I love about being the pastor at Virginia Hills is I’ve had the opportunity to minister to families over the long haul. I’ve been able to marry couples, baptize their kids, bury their parents, and visit them in the hospital over the course of many years. This past Saturday I had the privilege of officiating the graveside service of Mancil Burns.

Mancil and his first wife, Evie were long time members at Virginia Hills. They joined the congregation on May 5th, 1974. When I came to the church in 1987 Evie was in the final stages of emphysema. When she died, I officiated her service. It’s hard to believe that was 28 years ago.

I remember the day we buried Evie. It was a cold, wet, rainy day. I officiated the service with Mike Allen, who was the Burn’s neighbor and the pastor at Baptist Temple Church in Alexandria. We drove from the church to the cemetery in a driving rainstorm, and I remember the funeral representative telling us we could do the graveside service in the Mausoleum. But we would have to be brief because another service was coming in right behind us.

In the Mausoleum I started out with a scripture reading and prayer, and then turned it over to Mike. (Who was not the most short-winded pastor I’ve ever met.) He told story after story of living next door to the Burns. As I looked out the front door of the Mausoleum, I saw the hearse for the next service pull in leading a large processional. And they had no place to go! Between the Burns service, the rain, the second service, and the long-winded Baptist pastor, it was total chaos!

A few months later, when we were having trouble with our phone at the house, my wife called Mancil and asked for some help. Mancil had spent several years working for ATT. He drove up in a white corvette and stepped out of the car wearing his white tennis outfit. The man had style! It took him about 20 seconds to fix our phone problem and was back on the road going to the local tennis club where he played almost every day.

A few years later Mancil married his second wife, Charlotte. She became active in our church, sang in the choir, and even served as our accompanist for a while. Later, they moved to Fredericksburg.

Mancil was a character. He was quick with a smile, the first one to offer help when you were in trouble, and the last person you wanted to make mad. (Which I managed to do a couple of times.) He was also one of the last remaining members of an age gone by. So many of the members who were here when I arrived are gone now. We only have about 10 left from when I started.

A lot has changed over the course of many years, but the Mancil Burns’ of our church hardwired a certain kind of atmosphere into our congregation. It is a part of our DNA. It’s an atmosphere that has nothing to do with a building or individual members. It’s a loving, friendly, family atmosphere where people can meet and serve Jesus, community, and one another.

Arena Stage

Last week my wife and I had the opportunity to go to Arena Stage and see the play Unknown Soldier. We both love theatre, but it had been many years since we had been there, so it was a delight to see this excellent production.

My love for Arena Stage began in 1976 when our drama teacher at Edison High School took us to a matinee viewing of Death of a Salesman. Robert Prosky, who later starred in Hill Steet Blues on Television, played the character of Willy Loman.

Over the years I have seen many wonderful shows at Arena. Saint Joan in 1977, You Can’t Take it with You in 1979, Banjo Dancing in 1984, The Glass Menagerie in 1989, The Price in 1994, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof in 1998, A Washington Christmas Carol in 2009, and Oklahoma in 2011.

Each of these performances carries with it a special memory. For example, when we saw Death of a Salesman, the actors came out and talked to the students about their craft. When I saw You Can’t Take it with You, I was there with my good friend, John Elliot, who had been with me in Edison’s production of the same play a few years before. I saw Banjo Dancing twice. Once with my family, and then again when I brought a group of seniors from my church in Lynchburg.

The thing I like about drama, especially when it is at Arena Stage, is that it touches an emotional nerve in me that nothing else does. It opens the door to the heart. The heartbreak of a tragedy, the laughter of a comedy, the hope inspired by a musical, help me learn, have fun, and be inspired.

That’s why I am so excited about the community theatre we hope to establish in our new church. We have designed the building so that the sanctuary can double as theatre space. I envision a place where residents in our community can participate in local productions. A place where groups like the Rose Hill Players can have their grade school production. A place where seniors from Brightview Senior Living can display their talents.

What would it look like if we incorporated scenes from a community theatre into worship? What would it look like if members of our church mixed in with outside theatre groups and built relationships? What would it look like if the emotional impact of theatre, intersected with the power of the Holy Spirit, in just such a way that lives are changed? I look forward to seeing what God can do as we move forward with this part of our building project.

Aunt Ethel

My Aunt Ethel called me today. Ethel is my dad’s “baby sister” and is the last surviving member of Pop’s family of origin. She is 98 years young and I’m convinced she will still be around long after I’m dead and gone.

I’ve always had a special connection with Ethel because she was a minister’s wife. Uncle Homer served as a Methodist pastor for many years. I think she understands me better than most and has always been supportive.

Since her husband was a Methodist pastor, she was thrilled to hear that the good Methodists at Mount Vernon had given us a place to worship while we build our new church. She calls every once in awhile to see if any Methodism has rubbed off on me.

She was even more thrilled to hear about our partnership with the Kingstowne Communion Church. She loved the idea that Kingstowne will be renting space from us when we open our new building. Aunt Ethel is very ecumenically minded.

I gave her the rundown of where we are in the building project, how we have scheduled a groundbreaking ceremony for May 5th, and hope to open the new building in the Spring of 2025. As we were saying goodbye at the end of the phone call, Ethel reminded me that she is praying for us. She said she prays every night for me, my family, and for our building project.

I was deeply touched by her words. How powerful to know that my dad’s sister, who knows a thing or two about churches, building projects, and church conflict, is lifting us up every night before she goes to bed. I feel better knowing that this prayer warrior is in our corner.

The Day after the day after easter

As I write these words, it is Tuesday, April 2, 2024. It’s the day after the day after Easter. Yesterday I took the day off, trying to recover from Easter Sunday. But today it was time to get back to the office. Pastor Betsy of Mount Vernon Methodist was coming in just as I was, and she had that “not quite recovered” look on her face. I asked her how she was feeling and she just kind of groaned.

Easter is a mixed bag when you are a pastor. There is the excitement of resurrection, the joy of the empty tomb, and voices raised in praise. But Holy week is a busy time. There are extra services, additional planning, and the adrenaline rush that leaves you feeling a little woozy when it wears off.

It was a little easier for me this year, for I was able to piggyback on other pastor’s efforts. On Maundy Thursday we joined the Methodists at Mount Vernon for their Passover Haggadah service. All I had to do was show up and participate. Nice! Then on Easter Sunday morning we joined Kingstowne Communion Church for their sunrise service at Nalls Produce. Again, all I had to do was show up. It’s kind of nice to be able to sit back and watch sometimes.

A little while ago pastor Betsy walked by my office, stuck her head in the door and said, “This job is exhausting!” She was on her way to a meeting, after which she was leading a small group, which would be followed by some visits. I chose to spend my time and energy doing some reading, making some phone calls, and writing a newsletter article. (After 37 years I have learned to pace myself)

It is exhausting sometimes, but I feel very blessed to be able to do what I do. God has allowed me to do what I wanted to do, in the place I wanted to do it, among the people I wanted to do it with. I LOVE BEING THE PASTOR AT VIRGINIA HILLS! Thank you for letting me be your pastor. Now it’s time for me to go home and take a nap.

March Madness

We are entering the season in the sports world known as March Madness. This is that time of year when college basketball begins the tournament that will decide the NCAA champions.

I was not much of a basketball fan growing up. I played a little with the church RA team but wasn’t very good. I have a hard enough time walking and chewing gum at the same time, much less running while dribbling a basketball. I couldn’t shoot, couldn’t block, and couldn’t pass.

Our family didn’t watch much basketball, not like football or baseball, so it was a sport I didn’t really care about. All that changed when I became the student pastor of the Frank Price Memorial Church in Wilson, NC. The good people of this church introduced me to the joys of the ACC and NCAA tournaments.

My first year in the church, NC State won the national title. The following year UNC won the title. And a few years later Duke won the title. By the time I left North Carolina I’d fallen in love with ACC basketball.

How is it someone who has no interest in basketball can come to love it so much? I had people introduce me to it. My friends at Frank Price shared with me their passion for ACC basketball. I didn’t care about it because I hadn’t been exposed to it.

We live in a world where many people do not know the joys of faith. They are unaware of God’s love, demonstrated in the person of Christ. They have not experienced the fellowship of a body of believers. They know nothing of the peace and assurance that comes from corporate worship. And they never will…unless we introduce them to these things.

This Sunday is a special day in which we will celebrate the resurrection of our Lord. Our voices will be raised in song, our hearts will be comforted by God’s word, and we will retell the story of conquered death. Who do you know that you can introduce to the Easter experience?

Bald Eagle

A few weeks ago, I was sitting at my desk when I got a text from my daughter, who is an administrator for our church’s preschool. She wrote, “Come quick, there is a bald eagle in the parking lot.” Since it is not everyday you see a bald eagle, I ran outside to take a look.

I couldn’t see him at first. He was very high in the trees on the North side of the parking lot there at Mount Vernon United Methodist. But once Justine told me where to look, I spotted him.

I tried to take a picture, but he was too far away to get a good shot. So, I had to settle for standing there awhile admiring him. Such a beautiful creature, the bald eagle. Big and strong and majestic, with distinctive markings that help identify them. White tail and head feathers, a dark brown body and a bright yellow beak. A look on their face that seems to convey intelligence, resolve, and power.

It made me wonder how many times eagles have been in the trees while we have been at Mount Vernon. We’ve been there for a year and a half now. How many times did I walk to my car and not see the eagle because I wasn’t looking for it.

Ever since that day, I have been looking for it each time I drive into or out of the parking lot. I have not seen it again, but preschool staff tell me they have seen it multiple times.

There is a lot we miss in life because we do not know where to look, or we don’t take the time to look: the fox that runs past your window, the full moon on a clear winter evening, the late afternoon sun illuminating the Masonic Temple.

What’s true of eagles is also true of spiritual things. We often miss them because we aren’t paying attention. The quiet nudging of the holy spirit as we worship. The written Word that inspires us at just the right moment. The word of affirmation when we are discouraged.

Think! How have you experienced God this week? God sightings are common, but only if we take the time to look.

Hot Tub Brain Surgery

Have you ever had a dream that made absolutely no sense at all? One that is so vivid and bizarre that you wanted to tell everyone about it. That’s the kind of dream I had last night.

I dreamed that I needed to have hot tub brain surgery. I didn’t know that was a thing until my subconscious informed me of it last night. Apparently, in my dream, I had become very forgetful (a symptom not unlike my normal waking state). I went to the doctor’s office, where I was scheduled to sit in a hot tub while the doctor cut open my skull and insert a probe that would stimulate my memory. I needed to be awake for the surgery, but the hot tub would relax me, and the heat would open my pores. Apparently, there would be no anesthesia.

As if that were not weird enough, the hot tub sat in the waiting room. There was no operating room, just a steaming tub of water to the right of the front desk. It looked a lot like a baptistery.

The doctor, who looked like the character “Doc” in the movie Back to the Future, came in and said, “Who’s next?” The nurse handed him my chart and said, “This guy.” The doctor then looked at my chart and asked me if I was MCGillicuddy. When I told him that I was Bart he said, “Great Scott! We’ve got the wrong chart. We could have killed this man.”

He then started to berate his staff for their incompetence, but they had all gone to lunch. Doc then went to look for my chart, murmuring words that ought never be used in front of a baptistery.

While I waited, I noticed that I was dressed in blue jeans, a T-shirt, and my Drew University graduation gown. Why that was the dress code for this procedure I didn’t know. I was just wearing what I was told to.

While waiting, I realized that I didn’t bring a change of clothes and worried about dripping all over my dad’s car when he picked me up. It didn’t seem unusual in my dream that my father, who has been dead for almost 10 years, was my designated driver. I woke up at 3:30 AM to the sound of our dogs barking. Apparently, they didn’t like the idea of me getting hot tub brain surgery without a change of clothes.

I find dreams so interesting. Often, they reflect the anxieties, grief, or challenges of life. In recent years I have not dreamed as often as I used to. I have found that with a consistent sleep schedule I’m less inclined to do the crazy dream thing. But sometimes the stress of life sends my sub conscience into overdrive, and I dream about hot tub brain surgery.

The dogs that woke me up love to play tug of war with their toys. If it were up to them, we would play all day long. But at some point, we need to do other things; like go to work, or fix dinner, or take a shower. So, we say, “drop it,” and put the toy away.

I think that’s God’s message for me in last night’s dream. I need to take my stress and “drop it.” Set it down and walk away. When I do, I realize that I don’t need hot tub brain surgery in the first place. If and when I do, I’ll know to bring a change of clothes.

Dr. John I Durham

Last week I was doing my morning devotion, in which I was reading from the Book of Psalms. It made me think of Dr. John Durham, my Old Testament professor from Southeastern Seminary. Dr. Durham was one of the most brilliant men I’ve ever met. He wrote the commentary on Psalms in the Broadman Bible Commentary in the 1970s. His enthusiasm for the Old Testament, and Psalms in particular, was infectious.

As I read Psalm 86, I wondered to myself what Dr. Durham would say about it. I would have consulted my copy of his commentary were it not packed away in the boxes in my basement.

As I finished my devotion, I googled Dr. Durham’s name to see what he’s been up to. As it turns out, he passed away in 2022.

This is becoming a common occurrence. I’ll look up a favorite actor, or author, or athlete and discover they are no longer with us. In just this past year we lost Frank Howard, the slugger for the Washington Senators; astronaut Frank Borman; Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor; Actor Michael Gambon; and singer Tony Benett.

All of these celebrities had something in common with my seminary professor. They were all really good at what they did, and they loved doing it. Dr. Durham’s classes were like being in a worship service. He made the Bible come alive and he taught his students to love it like he did.

I’ve had a lot of teachers in my life. Many of them were excellent. My fourth-grade teacher, my 7th grade English teacher, my 12th grade social studies teacher, and my college history professor were wonderful. But there were others that I don’t have warm and fuzzy feelings about. For some of them, the teaching gig was just a job, a way to pay the bills. They didn’t want to be there as much as their students didn’t want to be there. Some were struggling. They had health issues or family issues. And some of them, quite frankly, were just mean spirited people. But the great ones were passionate about what they did. They loved the subject and that enthusiasm overflowed into the lives of their students.

Thank you, John Durham, for passing your love of scriptures on to me. May I pass that love on to the good people at Virginia Hills.

Purdey Shotguns

Several years ago, I became aware of James Purdey and Sons, LTD. It’s an English company know for its quality shotguns and rifles. Normally, I would not be that interested in a gun company, but this company and I share a surname.

Like many people, I take notice of something that has my name on it. I’ve purchased Purdy paintbrushes, Purdy Chocolates, and own a USS Purdy hat, named after a destroyer from the Korean War era.

So, when I became aware of these shotguns, I thought “Wouldn’t it be cool if I had a Purdey shotgun hanging over my mantel?” That would be a great conversation piece. But, alas, there was a problem. The AVERAGE price of a Purdey shotgun is $68,000. You can get a used one for $32,000, but if you want the top-of-the-line model it will cost you $300,000. It’s a good thing I’m not much of a gun guy.

I understand these are high-quality, hand-crafted guns. It says so right there on the website. But since I have wasted my money on frivolous things like food and shelter, I don’t have enough in my checking account for such a purchase. It’s just as well, for my pheasant hunting days are pretty much over. I think I’ll invest in something else.

Very soon we will start a capital building campaign to help us build our new church. We are asking the membership to invest in the kingdom of God. You can make a one-time donation or pledge a certain amount each month for the next three years. Our hope is to have 100% of our members participate. If we exceed our goal, we can purchase a Purdey Shotgun to go over the fireplace mantal in the fellowship hall!

Snow Day

Pastor Betsy from Mount Vernon United Methodist Church emailed me this past Saturday evening to tell me that all services for the next day were cancelled. The snow that fell on Friday had been plowed off the parking lot, but melting during the day has caused a sheet of ice to form. So, the Methodists and Baptists alike had to cancel services.

It is a strange feeling for a pastor to not be in church on Sunday morning. I felt guilty. I felt anxious. All day long I felt like something was not right.

The feeling was exacerbated by the absence of my family. Since church had been cancelled, my son did not come home for his weekly visit. My wife and daughter were out of town that day attending a baby shower for our niece. So, I sat in the living room with three dachshunds and a cat on my lap, wondering what to do with myself.

As I sat, I remembered the words of Psalm 86, which I had read just a few days before: “How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord Almighty! My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God,”

As I contemplated these words, I came to a better understanding of what I was feeling. It wasn’t the absence of worship (which is important). It wasn’t the absence of my church family (which is also important). And it was not being separated from the brick and mortar of our temporary location. It was the living God that I was missing. The feeling that I get from corporate worship in the “courts of the Lord.”

I could have come to the church and worshipped by myself, but it would not have been the same. And I could have worshipped at home. Or I could have gone to a local church that had not canceled services. But what I was missing was being in the presence of MY God, with MY people, in My place of worship. That is a powerful experience.

Now, I know that salvation does not depend on worship attendance. And I know that God can be worshipped any time in any place. I know that people get sick, and go out of town, and have to work. But at some point, the community of faith needs to worship in God’s house. We had a break this past Sunday, but this week, let’s all get back to church!

Broken Ornaments

It seems like every year we break an ornament or two during the holiday season. The one we lost this year was a personalized ornament for one of our dearly departed pets, Annabelle.

Personalized ornaments have been a part of my family’s Christmas tradition since I was a kid. Mom would order an ornament with our name on it from the Miles Kimball catalog. I still have the one she got me when I was born.

Following this tradition, my wife and I have ordered ornaments for all of our family members, including pets. Ironically, it was one of our current pets who knocked the Annabelle ornament off the tree.

As we were packing up the holiday decorations this year, we decided to inventory our collection of these ornaments. We wracked our brains trying to remember the many pets we have had. (That’s not easy when you consider that we have owned 11 dachshunds over our married life!) We discovered that we were missing several.

Gone now are the ornaments for Ben the human, Rusty the dog, Lulu the dog, and Dedric the cat. As I sat down to order replacements for those that are missing, I realized something that shocked me a little. We do not have, nor had we ever ordered ornaments for our current pets; Jack, Luna, Lokie, and Mozzie.

I had been focusing so much on the dead that I had not thought of the living. Isn’t that one of the great tragedies of life? We focus so much on the past that we forget about the here and now. As I write these words, I’m sitting in my easy chair with three dogs on my lap. They are warm and cozy on this snowy winter day. Maybe it’s time to pull up the Miles Kimball website and order ornaments for these lap warmers.

At this point I want to try an experiment. I have often wondered how many people read my newsletter articles. I know a couple of people who read them each week. I know others who have never read them. If you have read this article, can you let me know? You can email, text, or tell me the next time you see me.

Thanks!

A Visit to the DMV

Last week I had the opportunity to visit the Department of Motor Vehicles. It was every bit as frustrating as I remember. Whenever I mention going to the DMV, the person I’m speaking to inevitably lets out a groan and says, “Oh, I’m so sorry.” There must be a law somewhere saying that a visit to this place must be infuriating. 

The last time I went there was several years ago. I remember standing in the information line forever so I could ask a question. Then the person at the information desk gave me a number and told me to sit. I sat for about 10 hours before my number was called. I was naive enough to think that the person at window number 4 would be able to answer my question, but they assigned me another number and told me to be seated. 

Of course, there were forms to fill out. Multiple forms, asking me questions I didn’t know the answers to. The kind of questions you could answer multiple ways. I answered as best I could, waited some more, and began to feel that pain right behind my eyes that feels like a jackhammer inside your skull. 

Finally, I was called to window number 6, relieved that this ordeal was almost over. But alas, I did not bring the right identification with me. My drivers license, passport, birth certificate, social security card and college I.D. from 40 years ago were not good enough. They needed to see my first-grade report card, baptismal certificate, and marriage license as well. (Okay, that might be an exaggeration. But it was something equally ridiculous) 

So, I was glad to hear that things are different at the DMV now. Now, because of the wonders of technology, you can make an appointment online, scan a QR code when you enter the building, and be seated without having to deal with the non-information desk lady. 

Unfortunately, they still need proof that you are who you say you are. And the first-grade report card will no longer suffice. Now, you have to bring your college transcripts, 1987 tax returns, and a picture of yourself with “this is me” written on the back. I’m pretty sure that if you can’t find the right documentation you have to go back and get yourself born again. 

Can you imagine what it would be like if the entrance to heaven was like the DMV? You arrive at the pearly gates and get assigned a number. Then you wait 300 years to be interviewed by St. Peter who says, “Well, I see your name in the book of life, but how do I know it’s really you?  Do you have a driver’s license?” 

Fortunately, Jesus will be there when we arrive. He will recognize us, and call us by name, and show us to the mansion he’s prepared for us. And those who don’t know him?  They’ll have to spend eternity in the DMV.