This blog, much like the tomb on Easter morning, is basically empty. Except for some angels and a few old grave clothes, the tomb was empty. Except for a few words and a nice Easter lily, this space is empty.

Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed!

Seriously, until next time, KEEP LOOKING UP!

I still don’t understand why it’s called Good Friday. I suppose it’s a good thing that Jesus was willing to die for our sins. I suppose it’s a good thing he was willing to suffer so much on our behalf. I suppose it’s a good thing that he loved us so greatly (and loves us still), but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why it’s called Good Friday. Then, B.C. answered the question for me:

Please find a link below to a slide show that is serving as my Good Friday devotional today. It is the Stations of the Cross with prayers. I pray it is helpful as you reflect on God’s goodness and Jesus’s love on this holy and humble day.

It’s Friday, but Sunday is coming!

Until then, keep looking up…

I didn’t sleep well last night. I usually sleep well if I don’t necessarily sleep long (a good six hours is all I need), but last night it was different. I can’t put my finger on a particular reason. Maybe it’s all the excitement of buying a home after 22 years of living in a parsonage. Maybe the thought of a couple of issues going on in the District over the past couple of days kept me awake. Perhaps the stress of appointment season is finally catching up with me. It could even be the reality of “moving” to 1st UMC, Monroe that is finally setting in. It could be all of those issues. Or, it could be none of them.

For some odd reason I’ve had today on my mind all week long. Today? Yes, today…Maundy Thursday. Particularly, I’ve lived with a knot in my stomach most of this week as I’ve reflected on our Lord’s last day with the disciples. I can’t imagine what this day must have been like for Jesus. I don’t have anything to compare this day to in my own life. The closest thing I can think of is what it must be like for a condemned person to spend his/her last day in prison, knowing that in a few short hours his/her life will be over. The knot in my stomach comes from trying to think what it must be like sitting in a cold, dank prison reflecting on my life, sharing words with friends and family, having that last meal and waiting for the warden and others to come and take me on the final walk of my life. I don’t think I’d care too much about eating a last meal knowing that soon a medical technician will be inserting a needle in my arm and someone else will be administering a lethal dose of medication that will end my life. Seriously, what’s the use of eating at a time like that?

I wonder if that’s anything like how Jesus felt as he began this day? In some respects perhaps it is. The biggest difference? Jesus wasn’t guilty of anything. That, and he lived this day surrounded by people who didn’t understand what was about to happen. Jesus lived this day with purpose and no one close to him ever really noticed. I wonder if I notice.

Jesus’ day began by arranging his own last meal (even if it was the Passover meal). Then, at the meal, he has to deal with whispers, innuendo and selfish jockeying for position, not to mention dealing with Judas’ soon coming betrayal. And, with all this going on around him, Jesus institutes the sacrament of Holy Communion. He sets up the on-going rememberance of his life and death. There was purpose in the evening, and the disciples just didn’t get it. I still often wonder if I get it.

Then the whole idea of washing the disciples feet. He’s facing death in the next 24 hours and he washes their feet? Even Judas’ feet. Okay, so maybe Peter, James and John. But Judas? Talk about living a life of purpose! Makes me wonder about my own willingness to serve. How can I ever measure up? We speak of the sacramental nature of holy communion, but I wonder if this foot washing was not part of the sacrament Jesus was instituting, too?

Then, there is that little scene in the garden after supper. There, I begin to capture a little of Jesus’ anguish. There he prays and sweats drops of blood, and all the while his disciples are sleeping. It’s been such a long day for them, after all, and they need their rest. Following Jesus around can be such a tiring job. He’s sweating blood (the knot in my stomach this week is nothing) and they’re sleeping. I have the benefit of the Gospel accounts to know what’s ahead in the next 24 hours for Jesus. The disciples didn’t have that knowledge. They really didn’t have a clue! If I didn’t know, I’d be sleeping too. I sometimes find myself sleeping even though I know. I’m not watchful. I’m not aware of the needs around me. I’m not aware of Jesus’ suffering that is present in the suffering of others. Sleep just comes to easy for me. Except for last night. I was remembering.

I don’t always remember. I guess that’s why it’s good that we have Maundy Thursday. It helps me remember. It reminds me of the purpose with which Jesus lived his life. It reminds me of the purpose for which Jesus died. It reminds me that I am called to the same purpose. Maundy Thursday reminds me, which is one of those things a sacrament is suppose to do.

I suppose that’s why I didn’t sleep too well last night. I suppose you could say I had a night to remember.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Every once in a while I just have to step back and say, “Great job!” I want to do that this morning. I’ve told you previously that we have the best Local Pastors in the Annual Conference serving right here in the Monroe District. That continues to prove true. I’ve got to throw kudos to Rev. Dr. Steven Joe Koskie, who serves as pastor at Antioch United Methodist Church in Simsboro. Joe has done a great job as pastor of that congregation, and he was recently recognized by the Wesleyan Theological Society at Seattle Pacific University. Here’s the scoop:

Steven Joe Koskie’s dissertation Reading the Way to Heaven: A Wesleyan Theological Hermeneutic of Scripture, from London School of Theology (Brunel University), has been awarded the 2013 WTS Dissertation of the Year. Dr. Koskie not only surveys John Wesley’s hermeneutic, but also considers how to appropriate such a hermeneutic for contemporary practices of reading and being shaped by Scripture. His dissertation offers careful readings from Wesley’s primary material of sermons and explanatory notes, while also considering how changes in the questions Wesleyans are asking of Scripture and the views scholars hold on certain themes (such as justification by faith) are to be accounted for in a contemporary Wesleyan theological hermeneutic. The Wesleyan theological hermeneutic Koskie puts forth depicts the church as a Spirit-formed context within the larger divine economy of salvation, as contrasted with Wesley’s more individualistic soteriology and underdeveloped ecclesiology. He also explores how the encounter with God in the reading and hearing of Scripture is a means of grace whereby readers are further formed into the children of God.

Joe’s award was presented at the Wesleyan Theological Society’s annual meeting on Friday evening, March 21st. Let me put this in perspective for you. Joe was awarded the 2013 WTS Dissertation of the Year on the same program that Dr. William J. Abraham was awarded the Lifetime Achievement Award, and the same meeting at which Walter Bruggemann was the plenary speaker. That’s pretty good company, I’d say! The WTS Dissertation of the Year award is given to the individual whose doctoral dissertation is deemed an outstanding scholarly contribution to a research area related to the Wesleyan/Holiness tradition. The WTS grants this award periodically to recognize scholarship that contributes to concerns and issues that it deems are of great importance.

What would we do without our local pastors in the Louisiana Annual Conference? Great job, Joe!

That’s really all I needed to write today.

Until next time, keep looking up…

It really is dawning on me that I have to start preaching again every Sunday. I’m preaching this Sunday, and I’ve returned again to the lectionary to begin preparations. It should be easy, shouldn’t it? After all, it’s Palm Sunday. But, then again…it’s Palm Sunday. How does one be fresh on a passage of Scripture that is preached every year at this same time. What is God saying to us this year that He hasn’t said for over two thousand years? Yes, I feel the pain of all my sisters and brothers who are busy preparing for their Palm Sunday sermon.

I have often sought to title my sermon and have the title serve as the “big idea” of the sermon. I try to let the Scripture guide me to the point of the message and then formulate a title around that point. That’s what I’ve been trying to do this week (while spending long hours in the Cabinet room dealing with appointments) and it’s a little more difficult because we’re headed to Palm Sunday.

There is rich fodder in Luke 19:28-40 this week. Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem for the final week of his earthly ministry is filled with imagery for good sermon titles, and points to make. Of course, there is the whole matter of expectations. The crowd had their expectations of Jesus. The disciples had their expectations of Jesus. The Pharisees had their expectations of Jesus. Jesus had his own expectations of what the week ahead was to be like, and he was the only one who knew what lay at the end of the week.

Imagine how our lives would be different if we expected that next week would be our last. I am reminded of what Steve Jobs said after he discovered he was dying with cancer: “Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything—all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure—these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important.”

Yeah. I could do something with that. I might title it “Expecting the Unexpected” or “What Did You Expect?” That could work.

There is also the means whereby Jesus obtains the donkey upon which he will arrive in Jerusalem. That’s an interesting account, I think. Jesus simply sends his disciples to get the colt. “Go over there and get it. You’ll know it when you see it.” And, the disciples go, and sure enough they find the donkey, and sure enough, the owner asks the disciples, “What are you doing with my ass?” I can imagine the disciples’ response being, “The Lord needs your ass.” Well, now, that’s a loaded question, and the response is equally as loaded. I can probably get a lot of mileage out of this point. Maybe play with the whole idea of the role we have to play in the living out of God’s Kingdom among us. Do we all have an ass Jesus can use? Not quite sure how the folks this Sunday would respond when they show up and the title of the sermon is printed across the bulletin “When Jesus Needs Your Ass.” I suspect it would be somewhat akin to the reaction of the Pharisees when Jesus came riding into town that day. Hm? Maybe I’m on to something here.

I’ll keep playing with it. It’s only Thursday, you know?

Nah! I probably won’t use that title. A bit too shocking. A bit too much to leave to the imagination. A bit too much to be misconstrued. It’s a novel thought, though. Maybe it’s time we were a bit more shocking in our preaching. After all, it will be a shocking end to the week when Jesus rises from the grave.

My! My! My! The task of preaching on Palm Sunday and Holy Week. What’s a preacher to do? I suppose it’s time to live into the reality that Jesus needs my ass.

Until next time, keep looking up…

“Happy St. Patrick’s Day,” said the Irishman in the green derby.

That would be me if I had a green derby. No, I wouldn’t wear it to church today, but I would don it shortly thereafter. I am proud (yes, I know, we Christians aren’t supposed to show pride) of my Irish heritage. I use it a lot as an excuse for my short temper. I rather prefer to say I’m a passionate Irishman, not a short-tempered one, but let’s change the subject.

I’m not sure what to think of a holiday that began in the 17th century as a means of commemorating St. Patrick’s death and entrance into heaven, and the arrival of Christianity into Ireland, but is now celebrated by wearing green, public parades and lots of green beer. Yes, I celebrated with the children’s parade in Forsythe Park yesterday, and no, I didn’t have the green beer (does green lemonade count?). I suppose it shows that when we’re looking for an excuse to throw a party, any excuse will do, huh?

So, here’s a little about St. Patrick:

Patrick was born in Roman Britain in the fourth century, into a wealthy Romano-British family. His father was a deacon and his grandfather was a priest in the Christian church. At the age of sixteen, he was kidnapped by Irish raiders and taken captive to Ireland as a slave. It is believed he was held somewhere on the west coast of Ireland, possibly Mayo, but the exact location is unknown. According to his Confession, he was told by God in a dream to flee from captivity to the coast, where he would board a ship and return to Britain. Upon returning, he quickly joined the Church in Auxerre in Gaul and studied to be a priest.

In 432, he again said that he was called back to Ireland, though as a bishop, to Christianise the Irish from their native polytheism. Irish folklore tells that one of his teaching methods included using the shamrock to explain the Christian doctrine of the Trinity to the Irish people. After nearly thirty years of evangelism, he died on 17 March 461, and according to tradition, was buried at Downpatrick. Although there were other more successful missions to Ireland from Rome, Patrick endured as the principal champion of Irish Christianity and is held in esteem in the Irish church.

I honestly don’t know much about my Irish heritage. I haven’t done the whole geneology thing to know much about the Irish part of me. What I have discovered through conversations and questions through the years is that the Malone family name is actually the Anglicized version of the Irish “O Maoil Eoin.” My grandfather told me on several occasions sitting around Malone’s Hardware that when our ancestors came to America the name was pronounced O’Maloney, which makes sense  because the name was often pronounced “Maloon” in Ireland. Add the “O” to that and I could see O’Maloney as a result. Okay, so I’m seriously glad the name got shortened to Malone.

While I was pastoring in Kentucky, I discovered there was another Malone serving as a pastor nearby. Rev. Wayne Malone was serving a Southern Baptist Church in nearby Mitchellsburg, KY. We had several opportunities to discuss family history. He had done considerable research through the years, and he had discovered that three brothers came to America landing in Virginia. His study showed that one brother migrated to Tennessee, which is where his family came from, one brother settled in Georgia, and another settled in Mississippi. I took this to heart because my grandfather always told me that his family was from Mississippi. I made another Mississippi connection when I was in seminary, too. Rev. Dr. Maxie Dunnam was the President of Asbury Theological Seminary at the time. In the course of our conversations, Maxie told me that his mother was a Malone from Mississippi. I’ve since claimed kin to Maxie, though we never did the work to prove it. Hey? If nothing else, we’re brothers in Christ, and I much prefer claiming kinfolks with Maxie Dunnam when the next most famous Malones are Sam Malone of Cheers fame, and Kevin Malone from Dunder Mifflin.

Let’s see…I never thought much of answering the call to ministry as a Malone. I never thought I was the next in line to go into the family business (as it were). I’m not descended from a father and grandfather who were Methodist preachers (or preachers of any sort for that matter–but that’s another blog!), but what I’ve discovered through the years is that the name “O Maoil Eoin” literally means “devotee of St. John,” and that the family was for centuries associated with the Abbey of Clonmacnois to which they furnished many abbots and bishops. So, there is ministerial history in our family…just not recent history. I even read one time that the name derives from “maol” which is Irish for bald, and that was a direct reference to the distinctive hairstyle of the abbots. NO! NO! NO! I do NOT see “bishop” in my future (and I hope I don’t see baldness, either). I want to carry on the family tradition, but I’ll be content to be a pastor, thank you very much!

Oh, well…enough of Malone family history for one day, but hey? It’s St. Patrick’s Day…the day for we Irish to be proud of our heritage. Now, where’s that green beer?

Until next time, keep looking up…

It occurred to me while watching the latest episode of “Chuck Knows Church.” If you haven’t watched it, DON’T! Like Forrest Gump, “That’s all I got to say about that.” Mama always said if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all (I suppose you’ll all be googling “Chuck Knows Church” now, huh?). What was it that occurred to me? This ain’t brain surgery, you know?

The latest episode of “Chuck Knows Church” has Chuck attempting to explain the different paths to ordination in the United Methodist Church. Perhaps the “attempt” to explain the process should be a metaphor for the process itself. Perhaps the complexity in explaining the process for ordination is a metaphor for the state of the United Methodist Church. Have you ever tried to explain the process to ordination in the United Methodist Church? Do you even understand the process to ordination in the United Methodist Church? Do you even care?

Trust me! I’ve explained the process many times over the past two years. Every time I explain the process (well, attempt to explain it…), the eyes of the person to which I’m speaking just sort of glass over and I can tell they’ve checked out somewhere between, “First, there are two tracks to ordination,” and “Finally, the Bishop ordains you.” If it is so dog-gone hard to explain, can you imagine how dog-gone hard it is to complete the process? I suppose that’s enough said about that…but I am still left thinking “this ain’t brain surgery.”

Of course, it’s all explained in our Book of Discipline (if you know where to look). I know! Talk about complex and confusing. Even our General Conference couldn’t figure out if you change one part of the Discipline you have to change the other parts of the Discipline that pertain to the issue you’re changing. The complexity of the Discipline, and the system in place to amend or change it, has made it impossible to be proactive in engaging the mission field. Dealing with the Discipline may, in fact, be brain surgery. I wonder? Geez! Does that shoot down my theory that “this ain’t brain surgery?”

I’m not sure if what we’ve done to the ordination process is not symbolic of everything else in our system. We just try to make matters too hard, or too complex, or in attempting to bring clarity we only muddy the waters. I’ve also seen it in churches that try to formulate a mission statement. We United Methodist have a mission statement, you know? It’s a real simple one: The mission of the United Methodist Church is to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. That’s the mission. This ain’t brain surgery, you know? Why do we spend months formulating something beyond that? Why don’t we just fulfill the mission as we have been given it? The church exists, not to do good, not to be nice, not to be helpful, but to make disciples. Doing good, being nice and helpful may all be results of making disciples, but they are not the reason the church exists. Perhaps if we spent as much time actually making disciples as we spent trying to formulate a fancy mission statement, we’d be more successful.

Many of our conversations these days also have to do with defining “the mission field.” Yeah, we gotta’ make that a hard one, too. But, it’s not brain surgery, either. Too many churches spend the time identifying a mission field by trying to identify a mission project. Look around, folks. The fields are ripe for harvest. Wherever there’s a person who doesn’t know Jesus, there’s your mission field. A mission field is both a place (there’s geography) and a people (there’s demography). Understand the place God is calling you to be in ministry, and understand the people God is calling you to be in ministry to and you’ve just defined your mission field. Only when we know who and where can we begin to understand how, and that’s where the “project” comes in. This ain’t brain surgery, you know?

And, another thing…it’s still all about Jesus. Have we lost sight of that fact? We talk an awful lot about God, but we don’t seem to mention Jesus all that often. I wonder if we only talk about God, we can keep God in the abstract. Jesus tends to make God a bit more concrete, and if I have to deal with Jesus, he might actually challenge me to change my ways. It’s safer to deal with God alone. We talk a lot about other religions, too, and we’ll have money classes and parenting classes and zumba classes and dance classes and art classes and, well…you get the picture (and yes, I’ve done all those classes in churches I’ve served–I’m Methodist, after all). Why don’t we try talking about Jesus more? Let’s see where that gets us. Let’s try focusing on Jesus…on his life, on his death, on his resurrection, on his command to “go and make disciples.”

I am reminded of the words of Max Lucado in Six Hours One Friday:

“There’s a direct correlation between the accuracy of our memory and the effectiveness of our mission. If we’re not teaching people how to be saved, it’s perhaps because we’ve forgotten the tragedy of being lost. If we’re not teaching the message of forgiveness, it may be because we don’t remember what it was like to be guilty. And if we’re not preaching the cross, it could be that we’ve subconsciously decided that—God forbid—somehow we don’t need it.”

We need Jesus! We need Jesus in our lives, and we need Jesus in our Methodist Church. That’s pretty simple to me. The complexity of our ordination process, the complexity of our polity, the complexity of programming, and yes, even the complexity of our “mission field” need not keep us from the main thing–sharing the Good News of what God was and is doing in Jesus Christ. Let’s offer the world Jesus Christ. This ain’t brain surgery, you know?

That’s good, because I ain’t a brain surgeon.

Until next time, keep looking up…

The days are numbered for theunexpectedds. I’m not sure I can continue writing under that name anymore since I won’t be a DS. Although, I will still be the person who never expected to be a DS, so technically I will still be the unexpected DS if not specifically DS. Hm? Nah! I think I need a new name for my blog. Yes, I’ll continue to write a blog after I leave the district office. I’ve discovered it’s fun. It’s an outlet. It’s a process tool. But more that all that, it’s a great way to stay connected with folks, and I need connection, and I crave community.

One of the benefits of being DS is visiting with the SPPR/PPR Committees when a congregation is going through a pastoral change. I had that opportunity when Rev. Stafford announced his retirement from 1st, Monroe, and out of that visit came a profile for what the congregation was looking for in a new pastor. One of the primary criteria they sought in a new pastor was “understands the value and is able to use Facebook, Twitter, blogs, etc to reach younger generations.” Hey? I think that just described me! Blogging is a great way to connect, and not just with younger generations. I’m discovering as I track the site that I actually have more “older” persons following than younger. Blogs, facebook and Twitter are not just for younger generations (you gotta’ text message if you really want to stay connected with younger generations).

I’ll be anxious to see if I can blog 2-3 times per week like I’ve been doing. The blogs might be more sermon tease than anything else, but I would hate for them to become like the news “teases” you get on local TV. You know how it is? Those started out long ago as news “breaks,” but then they kind of did a bait a switch–less news during the break, and more tease to get us to watch the “real” newscast at 6 or 10. I don’t want the blog to become a tease for anything. I didn’t start writing a blog to tease anyone. Actually, I started a blog for very selfish reasons…it is all about me, after all. Hm? Makes me ask the larger question: “Why blog?” It’s not supposed to be about me.

I’ve discovered blogging as a ministry tool. It is a way to share the good news of Jesus Christ, and it comes down to pulling out all the stops to reach the lost with the gospel. I believe it is a ministry tool because of the feedback I’ve received over the past 10 months of blogging. I pray that continues as I transition back to the local congregation. I pray it becomes a way for the congregation to stay connected with me, and me with them. I pray the blog becomes a method of sharing a bit of who I am, so the congregation feels they “know” me personally, even though it’s hard to know 600 worshippers in three services.

People have made the statement they don’t see how I have time to write as much as I do. Blogging doesn’t really take me that much time. As an investment of time, I rarely spend more than an hour blogging. A couple hours a week is really no major investment in the grand scheme of things, especially when I think about the potential it has to reach others and connect them in some small way, and when I do it so early in the morning (I mean, really, what else am I going to do at 4:30 a.m.?). Blogging really has become about community and connection, so it has value as an investment of time and resources.

So, I’ve said all that to say, I’m looking for a new name to blog under. Names matter. A person’s name is more than an identifier. It says something about who they are, just as the Bible reveals much about God’s character through the names God is given. I also think about Abraham in the Old Testament. He was first Abram, which means “exalted father.” Can you hear the conversation now with ancient near eastern traders?

“So, old man, what’s your name?” a merchant might ask Abram.

“Abram,” he would reply.

“Ah! Exalted father. Well, then, how many children do you have?” would be the next question.

And Abram’s reply, for 86 years, would be, “None.” Some exalted father, huh? Quite embarrassing, you think?

But God changed Abram’s name to Abraham, the “father of many.” God gave Abraham a new name because God was going to do a new work in Abraham’s life. For 86 years Abram sought to live up to his name in his own power. It brought embarrassment. When God began to do God’s work in Abraham’s life is when things began to change.

Yeah, I’m not sure of the connection between God changing Abraham’s name and me changing the name of this blog. There’s probably not one. I just pray that God might use the blog (whatever it’s called) to reach others for Christ. I know living in my own power has brought many mistakes and not a few embarrassments. I’ll be praying for a new name…a God-given name…maybe I’ll see the power of God revealed. Maybe you’ll pray with me.

Hey? You got any ideas?

Until next time, keep looking up…

Today’s post will the be 171st post on theunexpectedds. No milestone there. The first post was on May 5th, 2012, and I began the blog as a way to keep the creative juices flowing during my time as DS (since I wasn’t preparing to preach every week), and to share musings and learnings along the journey. Little did I know when I began the blog that it would be so quickly winding to an end. It’s dawning on me now that my tenure as DS of the Monroe District is drawing to a close, and I must confess there is a little grief to be dealt with. I love my job (I think I’ve told you that before), but I know I will love being back in the local church soon, and preaching and preparing to preach will once again dominate my time. I pray the creative juices continue to flow.

The reality of the transition set in last week as Vanessa and I looked at houses. 1st UMC, Monroe doesn’t have a parsonage for its senior pastor, so Vanessa and I have been looking for a new home. In the past two weeks we’ve seen sixteen houses. Not many have been impressive to us. Oh, there have been things about each one that we’ve liked, but not a single house has jumped out at us and said, “This is the house that will be our home!” Honestly, the available market in our price range is small, so the hunt has been tedious. If we wanted to live out of town it would loosen the market a little, but seriously, I believe the senior pastor of 1st UMC, Monroe should actually live in Monroe. What kind of message would it send to the mission field for the pastor to drive IN to work everyday? Really? I can minister to you but I can’t live with you? I think not!

One of the things I’ve discovered over the past two weeks is how nice it is to have a home to simply move into. Parsonages are great. No worrying about matching. Just move in. No worrying about how the furniture will fit. Just figure it out. When something breaks, call the repairman and send the bill to the church (or the District, as the case may be). No frets about insurance or property taxes. No worries about leaky roofs. Sure, there are things we’ve liked and disliked about every parsonage we’ve lived in, but overall, they’ve been very comfortable, and quite adequate. For as many moves as we’ve made through the years, it has served us very well. Why any church would want to sell its parsonage is beyond me.

We are looking forward to owning our own home, though. We hope to be buying our retirement home, which was also its own rude awakening for me when I actually thought about that concept. But, I figured if Larry Stafford could stay for 18 years, maybe I could, too. That would put us at retirement age, and if you say it real fast, it doesn’t have time to sink in!

If this particular experience of home-buying is any indication, I don’t want to repeat the process any time soon. It hasn’t been a bad experience, mind you. It’s just been a tiring one. House hunting added to the busy-ness of appointment season has been fun (can you tell I’m being facetious?). We sat and tried to figure a time line for buying a house, and I think we’ve decided we’re kind of under the gun here. July 1st will be here before we know it (well, actually June 25th is moving day), and it takes time to make offers and receive counter offers, to negotiate aspects of the closing, and actually get to closing. Then, add any painting or cleaning or repairs and actually moving, and the time to be haggling is NOW! We really don’t have much time, and I really don’t have much time to devote to the process (can you tell I’m using this blog to process the whole issue?). I am grateful we’ve had a couple of weeks between Cabinet meetings to give us time to look.

I am rambling on not saying anything in particular, except to say I pray the house we buy hopefully will become our home. We’ve been at home everywhere we’ve been appointed to serve. Vanessa has always made any house into a wonderful home (she has that gift), and I hope the house we buy will soon be that for us. Every parsonage has become home for us because we came to each appointment not expecting to move, not waiting for the next appointment, but choosing to settle, to “bloom where we’re planted,” so to speak. Yes, we’ve always known we were a Methodist preacher’s family, but each place we served has been home for as long as we were there. We go to 1st UMC, Monroe with the same mentality, but with the added caveat that this really could be home for a very long time. That’s both scary and exciting.

I’ve said a lot, but actually I’ve said very little. If I had a word (or two) for my brothers and sisters in ministry it would be this. Bloom where you’re planted. Never go to one appointment looking for the next appointment. Also, don’t go looking for your next appointment–love the people where you are and your next appointment will come looking for you. Oh, and any house can be your home. I suppose it’s all about contentment, huh? So, I’ll close with Paul’s thoughts on the subject:

¹¹ Not that I was ever in need, for I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. ¹² I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. Philippians 4:11-12

Enough rambling (and processing) for one day.

Until next time, keep looking up…

Well, I’ve gone and done it! I drank the Downton Abbey Kool-aid. I kept seeing facebook posts that hinted at something that was happening at Downton Abbey, and I mean, people were getting a bit carried away. I didn’t know what they were talking about until one day someone actually said it was a PBS series. I didn’t think much more of it but I kept seeing these posts, and so many people were becoming fans of the program. For the longest, I couldn’t care less.

Then, one day, all that changed. Apparently, it was the day after the latest season-ender, and there were several snarky posts concerning the way the producers ended season 3. I thought, “Well, I’m a pastor, and pastor’s need to be aware of those things capturing his/her parishoner’s attention,” so I did the google search, and the rest, as they say, is history.

For those of you who may not know, Downton Abbey  is a series on PBS. The series is set in Downton Abbey (duh!), a Yorkshire country house, the seat of the Earl and Countess of Grantham, and follows the lives of the aristocratic Crawley family and their servants during the reign of King George V. Season One opened with the news of the sinking of the Titanic and ends with the onset of World War I. Season Two reaches through World War I until the beginning of 1920. I can only suppose Season Three will pick up from there.

How do I know all this? I’ve been on Downton Abbey overdose. Yep! I decided after the google search to check it out for myself. Kelsey was signed up for Netflicks. Brittney brought her Wii to my house. It’s as if the stars were aligned for me to get the program. I searched Netflicks and found Season One. I watched the first episode. Not too bad, I thought, so I watched the second, and then the third, and then the, well…you get the picture. Over one Friday evening and Saturday, Vanessa and I watched the entire first season (keep the snide “you’ve got that much free time?” comments to yourself–yes, that particular weekend, we did!). There was only one problem. Netflicks only carried season one, and we were now desperate for season two.

The next week was busy, so it was easy to lay the search aside for a few days. I kept thinking Netflicks would post season two, but it never happened. Finally, Sunday evening, Vanessa and I were sitting at the house wondering how we were going to pass the evening. I could take it no longer, so the laptop came out and the search resumed. I was going to find season two. I did. On Hulu. $7.99 later, we were watching season two on my laptop. Let’s see…episodes one, two and three Sunday evening, another two Monday evening, two more Wednesday evening, and two Thursday evening (yes, a couple of late nights this week), and we’ve made it through season two.

Guess what? That’s right! No season three on Hulu! Vanessa did her own search (yes, she’s captured, too) to discover the reason. It seems as though Amazon has purchased the rights to Downton Abbey and they’ll not be seen anywhere but on streaming video via Amazon.com. I’ll be buying! $1.69 per episode if you purchase the entire season. After all, I have to find out what happens to Matthew and Lady Mary. I’m certain they’ll not really end up together. And, Thomas, that rascal. I know that leopard hasn’t changed his spots. And, poor Mr. Bates (let’s not forget poor Anna, either). What will become of him, or them? Oh, my! I’ve been sucked in. I must know! I will know!

How easily we get drawn into little harmless pleasures. I’ve discovered (in my own life anyway) how easily I can be tempted to be drawn into sin. I’m not saying Downton Abbey  is sinful. Actually, it’s nice to see a little integrity on television for change (I said “a little”). I’m simply saying sin often tempts us softly at first, enticing us away from that which is best or good. A little hint here. A little suggestion there. Our attention is drawn away, and we find some little enjoyment in the encounter, so much so that we see how harmless it is. Slowly, but surely, we’re drawn deeper and deeper, until finally we’re totally consumed. The words of the Apostle James ring in my mind loudly this morning:

¹⁴ Temptation comes from our own desires, which entice us and drag us away. ¹⁵ These desires give birth to sinful actions. And when sin is allowed to grow, it gives birth to death.

I thank God for grace, and the spiritual disciplines of confession and repentance that draw me back from those little temptations that can so easily become overwhelming obsessions. I find myself practicing repentance far too often. Each time I do, though, I find a continuing fountain of grace. One prayer I have this Lenten season is that the times I need for repentance become fewer and farther between, and that God’s sanctifying grace might continue to transform me into the disciple He would have me be…Downton Abbey notwithstanding.

Until next time, keep looking up…