“We don’t know where you’re going?  How can we know the way?” Ever asked that question before?  This week?  On a trip? Did you ask it because you weren’t listening?  You were confused?  Or you were maybe even afraid? Thomas (the disciple) asked it along time ago to Jesus directly after Jesus just told him that he was going to prepare a place for him.   I think Thomas heard him.  I think Thomas wasn’t confused.  I think he was probably afraid. I just got back from a quick 20-hour backpacking over night with my friend Jeff.  He’s a hiker, backpacker and now a runner.  I’m just a runner.  I occasionally hike when Michelle says we’re hiking that day and I only really backpack down to Haiti, but also have two carry-on full of supplies with me.  For this quick and cold trip, I was going to try out my first night of sleeping in a hammock below 30 degrees.  So Jeff sent me a list of stuff to pack.   I put it together quickly Tuesday morning along with the supplies he sent over to my house to carry in my backpack to get me through the cold night in my hammock (that was last used in Haiti, which is a tad warmer).  Then I added about 4 pairs of warm socks, extra shoes, extra warm clothes, two pairs of gloves/hats and chemical warmers (“hot hands” – nothing illegal).  A full pack for sure of 35 pounds of “stuff” (along with food and Campfire Malt Beverages) for the 7 mile r/t hike and one night.  Way more weight than I needed. I didn’t use most of the cold gear, which he said I wouldn’t need, but I threw in anyhow.   As we sat by the fire at night he told me story after story of taking people out into the woods hiking or overnight and the incredible abundance of “extras” they would bring with them that only weighed them down, slowed their hike and blistered their shoulders because of extra weight.  When the hardest hill climbs came, I was doing them with weigh I didn’t need but chose to bring anyways.  He sent me list.  And I didn’t trust it and threw in a ton of extra stuff.   And then he said one of the most profound things I’ve heard in awhile: “People pack their fears.” People pack their fears.  We pack our fears.   I packed mine.  Thomas packed his. We grab extra stuff along the way, question the lists along the way and second guess the gifts along the way…sometimes out of our own fears.  I was afraid I’d be too cold last night.  Jeff wasn’t.  He had a list for me and a back-up plan as well.  Thomas was afraid of what would come next.  Jesus wasn’t.  He had a vision to give his life and a back-up plan as well. People pack their fears. What fears are you packing?  What fears can you allow yourself to take out of your pack knowing that God’s didn’t have those on your list and you don’t need them.  They are only blistering you.  Slowing you down.  Weighing on you during your hill climbs? (By the way, to Thomas’ question about “we don’t know the way,” Jesus said “don’t worry, I’ve got that covered, I am the way and the truth and the life.”  There’s God’s list.) God’s already got it packed.  We don’t need to add the weight.   Lord, thanks for taking the weight for us.  Help us to not pack out of fear.  Amen Still in One Peace, PS

“I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” – Jesus How’s life?  Feeling abundant?  Cramped?  Free?  Worn?  New?  Exciting?  Bored?  Or maybe it changes by the day?  Or hour? I’ve wondered many times during this Pause, how would we have done this without technology, Zoom, FaceTime, and so on?  They’ve made continuing on with life, work and relationships possible as we’ve searched out a new normal.  But have these new patterns been a blessing or a curse?  Abundant life or life sucking? More and more of us are working from home with laptops – on our actual laps – and phones propped up from our living rooms/bedrooms/lots of rooms/all the rooms.  And our safe spaces, our places of rest and peace, have turned into cubicles, offices, churches or teaching arenas.  It’s helping us continue moving on, but does it come at a price?  How are your boundaries holding up?  How is your self-care?  Are you still leaving some time, space and energy to allow abundant life to be experienced and recognized? On my run this morning, (my place to recognize abundant life) my coach said “Let go of any guilt you feel about taking this time for yourself.  Acknowledge the thought/feeling, but let it go.  This time, this place for joy, peace and self will actually change and strengthen you for whatever lies ahead.” He invited me to do three things: 1.  Name the space.  Speak it into existence as a safe place to let go of the rest of the day’s “stuff.”  Allow it to be sacred.  A road to run or walk on.  A chair to sit in a read.  A sofa to lie down on and breathe or sleep.  A candle to light to remember the hope.  A phone call to check in. 2.  Accept it for whatever it is, not what you/someone else thinks it should be.  In other words, let your run be whatever it turns into (pace, speed, distance, style).  Let your walk be the direction and distance that happen.  Let the phone call to reconnect be simply relationship time and not any agenda. 3.  When you finish that run/time, you don’t have to let go of it.  One run starts at the starting line and ends at the finish line, but when it ends, it doesn’t have to be over.  You don’t have to drop the solitude and peace just because you’ve finished the miles/call/prayer/silence/etc.  Allow what happened during the run to become your day, your mindset, your abundance. I invite you to do the same thing.  Take it.  Name it.  Accept it.  Hang onto it. This life, this day, these experiences, these moments are designed by the Designer to bring abundant life for you.  Enjoy it today.   Lord, thanks for pouring out abundant life.  Amen Still in One Peace, PS (photo credits to Chief Billy Major, Buffalo Airport Fire)

Our stories are important.  The good ones, bad ones, joyful ones and those drenched in pain.  They are all important. One of my favorite stories in the entire Bible (which is a very sizable collection of books and stories!) is from Luke and will be read this weekend at digital churches in many places.  It’s about two disciples walking toward a place called Emmaus.  They are walking in “Saturday mode.”  Saturday mode = sometime between Good Friday and the realization that the Resurrection has actually occurred.   They are right there.  Been there at all?  There now? Anyways, they are sad, confused and have a certain lostness about their current situation.  Wandering.  And Jesus walks up next to them (this is the super-alive-no-longer-dead Jesus, no longer on the cross, having sprung from the tomb…that Jesus).  “What’s up boys?” he asks.  They respond – “Have you not heard what has happened?”  (“Have you been hiding under a rock?” – church joke – see what I did there?)  Then they proceed to tell their story and Jesus listens.   He walks along side them and listens.  After hearing where they are at, he shares his story (God’s story really).  And they listen.  They don’t fully comprehend, but they listen.  And in the listening to one another’s  stories, healing seems to begin.  They end up building enough relationship with this guy on the road (Jesus, whom they never do recognize while walking together) that they invite him over for a meal before he continues on.  Community is built.  Meal shared.  Healing continues. I think a lot of us are walking a similar road today.  Not 100% sure where this road leads.  Maybe right next to one another, maybe socially distanced, maybe alone together.  I wonder what other stories are out there on the road?  What stories, if I listen for them, can bring me healing, hope and direction?  What stories of mine, if shared on that intimate walk, could bring healing to others.   We can’t be right next to one another right now, but that doesn’t change the stories we have to share.  Masks can’t block the power of our stories from bringing hope and healing to others.  Distance can be bridged through phone, letter, email, text and more so that stories can still connect us.  And as we share them, listen to the other story that is walking down the road with us.  The story from God.  Of a salvation-history long passion for us.  A desire for a future filled with hope for us.  With an invitation for us to return even in our worst moments.  Of a “super-alive-no-longer-dead Jesus, no longer on the cross, having sprung from the tomb” Jesus.  For us. There are stories to be heard.  There are stories to share.  And there is one story that wraps through them all.  THAT story is right with you on the road.   Lord, thanks for hearing our story.  Help me listen to yours  Amen Still in One Peace, PS

Poor Thomas!  He picked up the name Doubting Thomas because he’s the one who was busted saying, “Unless I see the marks of the nails and feel his side, I will not believe.”

And in an instant, he’s “that guy” for all eternity.  

Why couldn’t he be known as Just Double Checking Thomas?  Or This Is Too Good To Be True Thomas?  Or Just Cause I Said It Out Loud Doesn’t Mean You Weren’t Thinking It Thomas?

Thomas got a bad wrap.  Quickly.  However, just as quickly, when Jesus returns a few days later, he becomes the Yes Lord I Believe Thomas.  What a rollercoaster!

Ever been on a Faith Rollercoaster?  On one right now?

I love Thomas’ story because it reminds me that even the Holy Moly 12 had issues with their faith.  Even the Varsity Disciples doubted that God could even conquer death itself.  If the other clowns hiding in the house had also fully believed, they probably wouldn’t be hiding, locked away or grieving but would have been out in the streets shouting about it.  Expecting that this was going to happen the whole time!  So, none of them really gets the Disciple of the Year Award that day.

It’s OK to have questions in our faith.  It’s OK to be the guy in the Zoom meeting that asks how on Earth is God in this meeting?  It’s OK to want proof.  

It think that’s why Jesus breathed on them, right then and there: to give them the Holy Spirit and to sense Peace.  That part of God’s presence that would carry us when those doubts overwhelm, when the grief causes questions, when we need the cliche “Footprints” poem to be a reality and have someone carry us.

That’s the Faith Rollercoaster.  And the beautiful part of the 12-car group traveling those rails today is that the cars are filled with a little belief, a little faith, a little doubt, a little questioning, a little humanity, a little imperfection, a little forgiveness and a lot of Holy Spirit belting us all it.

May you feel that belt around you today with all you bring to the ride and know of God’s presence through all the ups, downs, twists and turns.

Lord, strap us in!  Here we go!  Amen

Still in One Peace,
PS

What does community look like right now? What does connection look like right now?

I try to imagine Jesus running Zoom sessions or putting his Sermon on the Mount over Facebook. I’m thinking our current Instagram/FB/TV/website culture couldn’t even pay attention that long, let along sit still for that type of teaching.

But what I have noticed in the past couple weeks is the craving from many for community. For connection. I’ve seen people in Zoom meetings that rarely come to “normal church.” I’ve seen folks plug into FB Live worship or watch on TV that rarely come to a sanctuary. I’ve seen more people look up on the bike path and wave as we run past one another. I’ve seen smiles linger and conversations fight through the awkward 6′ barriers. And that’s wonderful and beautiful and tricky all wrapped together.

But we’re all searching for something. Trying to fill some of these new voids. Replace and recreate old patterns.

And into that void comes Holy Week. Terrible timing that we can’t get together in person to celebrate it and yet perfect timing that we can experience it in a new way, in probably a new place and at an important time.

Jesus enters Jerusalem. On a colt. To cheers. To Hosannas. To Palms. And the crowds are a community. A mob. United. And I have to imagine that Jesus couldn’t have felt more alone. Isolated. Quarantined. His purpose was way different than they expected.

Then the crowd starts to split. Fall apart. “Who is this man?” they ask. “Some say the Messiah!” “Some say he’s trouble!” And community breaks down. Isolation and sides and divisions and splits and community falters. And in those moments, Jesus keeps going.

And I have to imagine that Jesus couldn’t have felt more driven. Connected to the Father. Passionate about his mission. His purpose was way different than they expected.

I feel like our culture right now, in this viral time, is a little bit Palm Sunday-ish. That the connections seem broken and the community seems to have fallen apart. But even in the middle of all this, I give thanks that the ability to connect to Jesus has only strengthened. That Holy Week is perfectly timed. That the cross that he walks to is the perfect image for us to hold onto right now. That this start of Holy Week leads to the end of it…an empty tomb. THE empty tomb. The one that connects us in the first place. The one that Christian community centers around. Connection and community.

So as we enter Holy Week and the palms fly in our homes instead of churches and community seems to struggle, may we know that this journey, this confinement, this stay-at-home week(s), will be Holy. And will also end at an empty tomb refilled with life, connection and community with God and one another.

Lord, make this Holy! Amen

Still in One Peace,
PS

(All are welcome in tonight’s Zoom check-in!)