What does ‘Lutheran’ mean?

I have often wondered about other “Lutherans” (not those “other Lutherans,” though I wonder about them, too) in the world today. Aside from the obvious and eponymous Dr. Martin Luther, I wonder if the modern-day Lutheran has ever considered the label he or she received at Baptism or (perhaps unwittingly) through membership… Some years ago, in my former life as a high school teacher, a church discussion ensued during a Russian History lesson on Prince Vladimir’s acceptance of the Christian (Orthodox) Church in the 10^th century, during which I confessed (!) to my students that I was a practicing Lutheran. One kid pondered aloud “What is the difference between Lutherans and Christians?”

Christians and Lutherans are one in the same, reading from left to right; however, many today mistakenly perceive a change in direction when reading from right to left, particularly in doctrine (Catholic lite, legalistically creedal, etc.) and practice (infant baptism, cannibalistic sacrament, etc.). So why do we Lutherans even bother anymore?  Why not just free ourselves from the titles, labels, categories, and simply go forth, Bible in hand, to do God’s Gospel bidding as we interpret it?

Lutherans are confessional—not the prie-dieu or Rosary kind, the subscribing kind. We subscribe to (that is, accept) the ten documents or Symbols known together as the Book of Concord, our 440-year old Confession of the doctrines of Scripture (we believe and teach that Holy Scripture alone is to be regarded as the sole rule and norm by which absolutely all doctrines and teachers are to be judged). Our Symbols don’t make us Christian, our faith in Christ Jesus does; however, our Symbols—our Confessions—definitely retain the flavor of the Protestant Reformation and they alone are what makes us Lutheran.

Dr. Robert Preuss said it best in his piece Confessional Subscription: “Confessional subscription is an act motivated and determined by the Gospel. A Lutheran’s attitude toward the confessions will indicate his attitude toward the Gospel itself.” Our Confessions—our Symbols—are not doctrine (even The Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod website states: “Since the Christian Church cannot make doctrines…”), but an exposition of the Church’s doctrine, the Word of God. Confessional subscription is not engaging in symbolatry, a word I have read more than once; nor does confessional subscription have “the aroma of an empty bottle,” a phrase meant to connote the persistence of creedal/confessional churches in this day and age. 

Dr. C.F.W. Walther stated in 1858 in his essay Why Should Our Pastors, Teachers and Professors Subscribe Unconditionally to the Symbolic Writings of Our Church that a solemn declaration of acceptance of the doctrinal content (not “doctrine”) of the Confessions as the divine truth to be preached “without adulteration.” It is that without adulteration part that keeps our Confessions relevant in a world of watered-down, feel-good, or downright perverted truths, both in and out of church.  Like our church fathers, we rely on our Book of Concord and those Confessions within to judge that the Truth (as delivered by God’s Word) is preached and taught correctly, that our understanding of Scripture is not unorthodox or adulterated, and that those who are Lutheran Christian (left to right) make a claim on these labels unconditionally. 

I look at the dissent within the ELCA, the recent advent of the so-named Lutheran CORE (“a community of Lutheran Christians seeking to mobilize confessing Lutherans for evangelical renewal”), the mainstream Protestants caving on the question of same-sex clergy and marriage, and the sheer number of non-denominational churches professing a grass-roots orthodoxy that meets the needs of befuddled church-goers in a world in which “tolerance” is the magic word and I’m more convinced than ever that without a doubt, today’s Lutheran is still in need of an apology.

Our Confessions are not outdated. We need them just as much today as the Augsburg Confession was needed in 1530. At the end of last month’s newsletter, I asked you to consider what “Zion Lutheran” means. This month, consider what “Lutheran” means to Christians, non-Christians, and, yes, even to Lutherans! I encourage you to learn more about our Confessions!

(And look for a “Confessions 101”-type study to happen once the plague lifts and Sunday school returns...)

Until next month…

Peace be with you all,

Pastor E.B.

What does 'Zion Lutheran' mean?

The following article was published in the Advance News Journal (weekly newspaper serving Hidalgo County) on September 23, 2020. I’d like you to read it from the perspective of someone from the community we serve, of no particular age, gender, or demographic; someone looking for a church home; someone who is not Lutheran.

In the three years I’ve had the privilege and pleasure of serving at Zion Lutheran Church in Alamo, it’s become clear to me that our church—in particular, our church building—on South Alamo Road may be losing its identity. I often wonder what, if any, impression our building makes on passers-
by. There’s no spire, no bell tower (well, there’s an aging one near the front doors, a sentinel from another era), only a big blue cross holding an electric sign with ZION LUTHERAN CHURCH across the top in letters that you’d swear weren’t there the first time you looked (like the bell tower, this cross is a sentinel guarding a different time). Our present building, opened in 1967, was a departure from its original, early 20^th-century small-town church design.

Our name has a distant ring to it from nearly a century ago, when our congregation was established in 1927. Once upon a time, there were hundreds of Zion Lutheran Churches scattered about the U.S., each with a name not unfamiliar to the communities they served. Today, however, in English (or even Spanish: La Iglesia Luterana Sión) such a name may seem almost cult-like.

Yes, it’s possible that in this era of bicultural and bilingual neighbors, as well as spiritual ambivalence, our church may be experiencing something of an identity crisis. Folks with only a cursory knowledge of the Bible might think “Zion” is a surname. And I’ve found that amid a predominately Catholic population, the name “Lutheran” may or may not be familiar; I’ve been asked if Lutherans are Christians and heard more than once “We’re not Christian, we’re Catholic.” Our building’s somewhat ambiguous façade and our cryptic-sounding name echoes, but may also obscure, a heritage of Christ-centered church life built around family, fellowship, and community service in a city that’s barely older than the congregation itself.

Our founders weren’t alone in their choice of a parish name that was not only pious, but identifiably Protestant; Zion appears in the Old Testament 152 times meaning Jerusalem and in the New Testament has come to mean the Church, as well as the heavenly city in Revelation. And there aren’t too many churches with “Zion” and “Catholic” in the name, due to the Roman Catholic tradition regarding parish names.

As for the name “Lutheran,” that belonged to Martin Luther, a 16^th-century Roman Catholic priest and theology professor in Germany who found himself at odds with the church he loved over, among other issues, the sale of forgiveness of sins (called “indulgences”) and was excommunicated by the pope. This explains why Lutheran pastors wear robes and stoles in (pardon the pun) Catholic fashion, and why Baptism and Communion in our church are considered sacraments.

Does this mean we’re some strangely named branch of Protestants with Catholic underpinnings? Not quite. In 1522, Luther wrote “I ask that my name be left silent and people not call themselves Lutheran, but rather Christians.” The fact is, we believe that we are saved by God’s grace alone, through faith alone in Christ alone. We teach that Jesus is the focus of the entire Bible and that faith in him alone is the way to eternal salvation. Nothing more, nothing less.

A church is not its name and building, but its people. A new era is dawning at Zion Lutheran Church—maybe it is time for us to address our identity, to remind folks in our wonderfully bicultural community that our doors are open, as they have been for the past 93 years. I personally invite you to visit us online at www.zionalamo.org. Then consider visiting us in person. Become part of our history. Be part of our future!

I believe that future growth and outreach success will depend on our ability, resolve, and desire to put ourselves in the shoes of our neighbors in order to better meet their needs. What they look like or where they come from is immaterial; that they need a Savior is a fact. A new dawn is rising in the wake of the coronavirus pandemic and the future is bright!

Consider the question that so many others beyond the church doors may already be asking: What does Zion Lutheran mean?

Until next month…

Peace be with you all,

Pastor E.B.

theo-pneus-tos

One of the very few fears I have in life—particularly as a pastor—is the loss of inspiration, the motivation for self-expression, the urge to create. Even worse—to no longer be able to find sources of inspiration, to begin to intellectually, emotionally, and creatively flatline. One look out the window into the reality of 2020, a year of pestilence, political upheaval, natural disasters, racial tension, loss of livelihood, closed schools, empty ballparks, mask-shaming, and it’s easy to understand the metastasizing grief and fear that can hijack our senses and our inspiration (not to mention our faith).

The Ancient Greeks believed they were inspired by the Muses (from where we get the verb to muse, as well as the noun music), nine goddesses on whose mercy the creativity, wisdom, and insight of all artists and thinkers depended. I read that poets like Homer, Virgil, and Ovid were thought to have no talent of their own. They received their inspiration—from the Greek inspirare, meaning to breathe into—from the only beings who held the power to create anything: the gods. I would agree whole-heartedly, though only after changing “the gods” to “God.”

The word inspiration is rooted in the Latin spirare (“to breathe”) and is directly related to spirit, from Latin spiritus (“breath”). But there is another curious word, right out of Scripture that translates, quite literally, to “given by inspiration of God”—a word so unique that it appears only once in the New Testament (2 Timothy 3:16): theopneustos.

It’s very possible that Paul may have actually invented this word (inspired by the Spirit), which breaks down into three parts: theos (the Greek word for “God”), pneus from pneo, the Greek verb meaning “breathe” or “blow” and also the root word for pneuma, the Greek word for “wind” and “spirit”), and tos (a suffix that describes something done by God). It’s very easy to see the connection between inspiration and faith, even in everyday life. Even in 2020.

I very often draw inspiration from others—people I know, historical figures, and certainly from the Bible. I find muses in the unlikely, but hardly accidental, heroes of Joseph, Moses, Joshua, Jonah, Paul, etc., as well as other real-life heroes, such as Martin Luther, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and another who popped up on my radar a few days ago, a man whose courage and faith under trying, life-threating circumstances should serve as an inspiration for Christians the world over. This man is the subject of a 1959 film entitled Molokai, La Isla Maldita (“Molokai, the Damned Island”).

Belgian priest Jozef De Veuster, Father Damien, was ordained in 1864 at the age of 23. His first assignment was to the island of Hawaii. At that time, the Hawaiian government decided to stop the spread of leprosy by deporting those thought to be infected to the island of Molokai. Father Damien volunteered to be the first priest to visit the colony and seeing the living hell among those banished to it, he stayed for 16 years, bandaging patients, washing them, and digging their graves (he also built houses, churches, orphanages, coffins, and a system for clean water). In 1889 he died...of leprosy.

Without suffering there would be no need for faith. This year, so far, has brought suffering, to be sure; however, the same faith that helps us endure suffering can also serve as a conduit for inspiration and courage. We can choose to succumb to the grief and fear or respond in faith, to keep that inspiration alive, intellectually, emotionally, and creatively—secure in what Paul writes in Philippians 4:3, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

My faith keeps my fears at bay, and any inspiration a theopneustos (that is, something God-breathed). My Muse is the Holy Spirit, through whom I can see God’s hand in my life and in the world around me. In fact, I feel inspired right now. Time to get busy...

...there’s much to do! :)

Until next month…

Peace be with you all,

Pastor E.B.

The Impossible Dream

“Your heart was lifted up because of your beauty; You corrupted your wisdom for the sake of your splendor; I cast you to the ground...You have become a horror, and shall be no more forever.”
(Ezekiel 28:17a,19b NKJV)

Suppose there existed a device—a gadget, say—that would give its owner—you or me, say—certain god-like abilities, such as the instant (or near-instant) eradication of evil (or an evil-doer)? What if it could fix things on that laundry list of grievances for God we keep in our back pocket? What if such a thing could work miracles, such as cleaner skin, hair restoration, clear vision, whiter teeth, weight control, a strengthened immune system, arrested addiction, reconciled relationships...even a greener lawn?

I just finished reading the second book of a trilogy about such a “button box,” a small wooden box adorned with colored push-buttons. Stephen King co-authored Book 1 of the Gwendy's Button Box Trilogy with Richard Chizmar, in which a 12-year old girl is chosen to be the guardian of this button box thingy—the red button can be used at the whim/discretion of the person who possesses it. As I started reading, I got to thinking that if I were to have such a device... Well, as I got thinner, better looking, and less crotchety, I could busy myself with fixing this planet’s wrongs (as I see them). I might even get around to rebooting the One Holy and Apostolic Church. Sooner (than later) my world would be restored to the perfection I meant it to be. Or would it?

There are plenty of things, in my opinion (and I’m certain in yours), that need change in our culture and society. Isn’t the dream of Man to become god-like, to find all the answers, to become invincible, to somehow, some way, someday accomplish what God cannot (or will not)? Yet, we’re stymied by two insurmountable obstacles; the first is sin...we’re selfish, error-prone, incorrigible sinners who continue to make a mess of things—even those of us with good intentions. And we’re contagious (not necessarily in the corona virus sense). Just turn on the tv. The second obstacle is that the Man with a plan is God; we don’t have one...throughout history, Man has never had any kind of plan, other than to conquer in the name of his cause, at any cost. Just turn on the tv.

My daughter sent me the following text message:

I have realized that I won't be able to fix any of these huge issues in my lifetime. I won't ignore them, I will choose to care and do what I can to make my piece of the world just a little bit better. I will show some love and grace to those around me. I will be a part of conversations for change and do work in my community. When I do all those things to the best of my ability, then I can go to sleep at night knowing I've given God and others the best I have... Our society is full of a lot of noise for a lot of good things but nothing will happen from just being noisy and unorganized...

We are noisy and unorganized! I’m more than certain that a button box in my hands would just add to the chaos. Rather than using the “gift” of such a device to feel god-like, what if we could make better use of the gifts we’ve been imbued with by a loving God with a plan for our restoration to the perfect creations He designed; perfect, but not god-like. Perfect in Christ, whose death on the Cross is the fulcrum for God’s plan to save Man from himself. Perfect in Christ, in whom our faith knows love, grace, compassion, mercy, and unconditional forgiveness.

The Message translation of Jeremiah 29:11 reminds us that there is a plan, a path to follow...and that maybe it’s time to throw away that grievance list (you know, the one in your back pocket).

“This is God’s Word... ‘I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.’”

Until next month…

Peace be with you all,

Pastor E.B.

The Dawn’s Early Light

"It is the LORD who goes before you.
He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you.
Do not fear or be dismayed."
(Deuteronomy 31:8)

[Note: Most of this post was written in February 2016]

In my present job as a high school teacher I have a collateral duty on the back end of our busy parking lot each morning from 6:20-6:55. I am a reflective human pylon with a flashlight and for the last 10 minutes at my post I dance the side-step like a sailor working a carrier flight deck. However, the first 15-20 minutes are more peaceful, almost serene, especially on a calm, clear, 50° morning like this morning.

As I was watching the dawn creep in from the southeast, I was reminded of another day in February, 15 years ago, when I was stuck in rush-hour traffic on the way home from a job interview on the north side of Dallas, a good 90 minutes’ drive in light traffic. I was at a standstill, so I rolled down my window to watch the last light of the sun disappearing below the horizon on an evening with the same conditions as this morning. As I sat there, waiting, I kept asking myself What are you doing?!

In mid-January 2001 I received my last active duty paycheck from the Navy. The transition from the military to the civilian world was exponentially more traumatic than the other way around. My job search was taxing, increasing my level of despondence with every rejection (why wouldn't a company want to hire a bilingual, college-educated vet with a security clearance, supervisory, management, and real-world experience?!). That particular evening I was sitting there on the highway in a suit and tie, wife and two elementary-age daughters still a good hour away. I had undergone a second interview with the now-defunct Dallas Semiconductor for a position as a shift supervisor in an industry I knew virtually nothing about. But I was desperate. By mid-summer I would be in a full-blown panic, angry at the very God who promised to take care of me and my family.

Things went from bad to worse from that February evening as spring turned to summer. I borrowed money from more than one relative to keep us afloat. In a final act of desperation I arranged a job interview with the National Security Agency in Maryland (where we were before I retired from the Navy) feeling certain I’d be hired, which would mean packing up, selling our house, and returning north...permanently. After two days of interviews and tests, I was offered a position that would more than adequately provide for our financial needs. But the thought of moving again was depressing. I could not understand God's plan for me—for my family!

As I was packing my suitcase for the return trip from Baltimore, my phone rang. It was the principal of a high school in the neighboring town down in Texas who heard that I was looking for a teaching position (public education was one of the many avenues through which I hoped to find gainful employment). This call was a total surprise (with a back story that has God's fingerprints all over it—a tale for another time maybe). He asked me if I could come in for an interview that morning; I told him I was in a hotel room 1,200 miles away, but could come in that same afternoon... He agreed, so I showed up at the school in 100° heat, sweating profusely in a suit and tie...

While on the flight to Texas I tried so hard to get God's take on all of this—the Maryland job offer and this seemingly 11th hour phone call. I prayed and I prayed and I prayed. I felt so guilty for having shaken an angry fist at God, for the feelings of helplessness that caused me to breakdown in front of my wife, for letting my panic overcome my faith. So I figured I would get another "we'll be in touch" after meeting with the principal, then we'd be back in Maryland before summer's end. Instead, I left the school with a classroom key and an assurance that a contract would be in my mailbox within five days (it was). In August I went to work as a humble and very grateful English as a Second Language teacher. I also spent a few months working at a liquor store to supplement my first-year teacher pay, a part-time job that would eventually lead to full-time church work (yet another tale for another time). (It turned out that because I am a veteran, the government paid not only for my certification, but I was at a school that met the free and reduced lunch percentage for a stipend by a fraction, so I received an incentive check each December for the first three years.)

It's seems silly now to think that, 15 years ago, I really believed that out of His 7 billion children roaming this Earth, God chose me to persecute and oppress like Job (see Job 3)! My pity, despair, and anger nearly choked the life out of my faith, saved, thankfully, by a vigilant, much wiser, and benevolent God who sometimes sees fit to drive us to our knees, to lovingly recalibrate us and clear our vision to see what is now, not what was or what we think will be. As I look back over the years, our daughters never went hungry, always had a roof over their heads and clothes on their backs, and they have always been part of an extended loving family that helped us unquestioningly when I thought we might lose our house.

As I looked out at the dawn's early light this morning in the parking lot, I remembered.

I remembered that God has never once abandoned me or my family, that the God revealed to us in Christ has a perfect record of keeping His promises. I remembered that my face-off with God (both wholly and holy one-sided, in retrospect), while exhausting, left me with a stronger faith and deeper resolve to never doubt Him again—that He would provide for me and my family, giving us daily what we need (not what we want). I remembered that, no matter what happens, through faith the story has a happy ending...by God's Grace.

Until next month…

Peace be with you all,

Pastor E.B.

Light at the End of the Tunnel

Life in quarantine has made us all feel like orphans, to one degree or another. We stay at home. We avoid crowds to reduce the risk of either catching the virus or infecting other people. Many of us are dealing with feelings of isolation, depression, boredom, and hopelessness. Lack of social contact and interaction has made us feel, well…alone. We let fear and impatience get a toehold on us. We can even begin to question the God who loves us, Who made us, who promises that he hears the cries from His children, Who promises to deliver us from our sin and suffering…to always be there.

This pandemic has brought about something I call “spiritual orphan syndrome,” a byproduct of “spiritual distancing.” Spiritual distancing is similar in many ways to social distancing; the former adversely affects faith, the latter adversely affects our quality of life. And both impede our relationships with God and our neighbor.

Spiritual distancing is what we do when we intentionally or unintentionally separate ourselves from God’s Word, from church, from our church family, from our neighbor. We spiritually distance ourselves from God when we stop looking for answers, for hope, for peace, in the pages of our Bibles. We spiritually distance when we allow personal, personality, or cultural differences to dictate to whom we’ll say hello, for whom we’ll be concerned, with whom we’ll collaborate, when we put ourselves first.

Some 2,000 years ago, Jesus anticipated the inevitable feeling of abandonment that would wash over his disciples as he suffers and dies on the cross, only to rise again and then return to heaven, leaving them behind as orphans in an unforgiving world. In the Gospel of John (chapter 15), Jesus tells his disciples two very important things, one an expectation, the other a promise—both are just as valid for believers in the 21^st century: 1) “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” and  2) “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.” (and he even promises to send them a Helper, the Holy Spirit).

Jesus doesn’t expect us to prove our love to him by keeping the Ten Commandments. Not at all; besides, he knows that we can’t, which is why we need him in the first place. What he means is, if we truly love him as we say we do, we will keep the two commandments sometimes referred to as “Christ’s Law” (see Matthew 22:36-40): Love God. Love your neighbor.

It sounds easy, but it’s really not—to do alone, that is. Jesus means to assure them—and us—that not one of his true followers, who genuinely loves God and neighbor, would become a spiritual orphan!

For so many of us, the strain of being physically separated from church due to this pandemic really can bring about “spiritual orphan syndrome.” Only God’s Word, His promises to us through Christ, can soothe our anxieties and strengthen our faith and our hope—we can open a Bible, can listen to a sermon, we can be part of an online Bible study (visit zionalamo.org to find out how you can participate!).

As the world starts to open up again, social distancing may be still be a part of “the new normal” (man, I dislike that phrase), but spiritual distancing doesn’t have to be. There’s a Light at the of the tunnel—it’s been there all along, the very antidote for spiritual orphan syndrome. The Light of Christ.

We don’t have to be bullied by fear, loneliness, and isolation; life is much more manageable with Jesus, than without him.

Until next month…

Peace be with you,

Pastor E.B.

A Virus Pandemic is FAR from Heaven on Earth

For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. (Colossians 1:16 ESV)

I was thinking the other day about how much I miss worshipers in the pews, for many reasons. But I miss it during this pandemic for one overarching reason, thanks to another pastor who enriched my understanding of the roots of Lutheran liturgy and corporate worship as “heaven on earth.”

I’ve mentioned the Rev. Dr. Arthur Just in a sermon from time to time and more than once in a Bible study. His claim to fame is the two-volume Concordia Publishing House commentary on Luke, but Dr. Just was one of my favorite seminary professors, both online (when I started in 2005) and at the seminary itself, where he lectured on the roots of Lutheran worship liturgy (the elements of which go back to the 4th century and grew out of Jewish house worship). He wrote a book (one of numerous, actually) about Lutheran worship history and practices entitled Heaven on Earth, required reading for my liturgics course, in which he writes the following (my underlining):

Early Christians believed that Jesus, the crucified and ascended Lord, was present with them through Word and Sacrament. This biblical eschatology is missing in many discussions about worship and liturgy today. In our liturgy we join all saints in one worshiping assembly because there Jesus Christ is present both in heaven and on earth. The saints in heaven and the worshiping congregation on earth manifest their unity in the one liturgy. In the liturgy the Church tells the world that its story is an eternal one because the presence of Jesus Christ, the eternal One, now dwells in the world.

The liturgy places us on a historical and eschatological line through God's great, objective, cosmic act of justification in Jesus Christ. We now have the same status in the kingdom of God as both the prophets of old and the saints in glory. We are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses who have gone before us, and, with Christians everywhere, we rejoice in their presence. They are standing with us and joining their voices with ours in one glorious liturgy. 

During one afternoon lecture, Dr. Just spoke of graduating from the seminary in 1980 and during the first year of ministry at a broken congregation, coming to the realization that he didn't have a full understanding of suffering. Folks were bringing him—a young guy right out of seminary— their burdens and he described how he was overwhelmed. Then he spoke of two specific incidents that provided a more personal insight into what he was going through. Only a few months into his call as a pastor, his wife's sister was brutally murdered in Dallas. Months later, the son of one of his parishioners was diagnosed with cancer, which took him at the age of 12. Dr. Just recalled in front of us how he wrote a funeral sermon based on the theology of the excerpt above, hoping that the parents would be comforted by knowing that, as their son was with Jesus and we believe that Jesus is present during the service (along with angels, archangels, and all the saints of heaven), that their son was present, too. He then related how the father appreciated his words, but to him his son was still gone...at only 12 years old. It was all I could do to not excuse myself and step out of the lecture hall to regain my composure.

I think of my time as a seminarian, sheltered behind the walls of the monastery, steeped in God’s Word, our only true doctrine as Christians. Luther said “Doctrine is heaven; life is earth. In life there is sin, error, uncleanness, and misery, mixed, as the saying goes, ‘with vinegar.’" The longer we are to “shelter in place,” “social distance,” move through life in a mask, and be subjected to the fear-mongering of armchair and talking-head prophets, the more I yearn for corporate worship…for heaven on earth.

That particular class session with Dr. Just was my last of the day. On the drive home I seriously pondered what I was getting myself into. And I thanked God.

Until next month…

Peace be with you all,

Pastor E.B.

Why do we celebrate Easter?

Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour. And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And some of the bystanders, hearing it, said, “This man is calling Elijah.” And one of them at once ran and took a sponge, filled it with sour wine, and put it on a reed and gave it to him to drink. But the others said, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save him.” And Jesus cried out again with a loud voice and yielded up his spirit. 

(Matthew 27:45-50 ESV)

The first question ever asked of me in a theological interview (seminary Q&A to test a pastoral candidate's doctrinal integrity) some years back was "Did God die on the Cross?" Rather than reveal my answer, I prefer to pose the very same question for penitential consideration. The answer—whatever it is—automatically elicits a follow-up question about Easter (and that empty tomb). 

A few years ago, while still a public high school teacher, I used to do predawn parking lot duty with a colleague and friend of mine (he's Baptist—we're on the same court, just on opposite sides of the net sometimes). One morning he mentioned to me that he would be teaching a Sunday school class on Easter, on a not-unrelated topic: Matthew 27:46 (Jesus cries out to God the Father from the Cross). We got to talking about how God could have forsaken Himself...

Hopefully, all Christians would agree that Jesus of Nazareth, after suffering beatings, taunting, and other despicable forms of humiliation at the hands of his accusers, was nailed to a cross by Roman soldiers where he languished for 6 hours before finally crying out with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” (“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”). He cried out once more and died.

So. Who died? Jesus the man? Jesus the Messiah? God the Son? God Himself? God Himselves? None of the above? (One of those answers was mine; no, not the last one...)

Lutherans are credal and confessional Christians; that is, we confess what we believe to be the truth, whether from Scripture, our Confessions (Book of Concord), or one of three Creeds agreed upon by the majority of mainline Christian churches as statements of the basic tenets of our faith. With regard to the question at hand, our Confessions, specifically The Solid Declaration of the Formula of Concord, Article VIII. The Person of Christ, speak directly to the answer:

(42-43) And it’s so in reality; for you must certainly answer this, that the person (meaning Christ) suffers and dies. Now the person is true God; therefore it’s rightly said: The Son of God suffers. For although the one part (to speak thus), namely, the divinity, does not suffer, yet the person, which is God, suffers in the other part, namely, in His humanity; for in truth God's Son has been crucified for us, that is, the person which is God. For the person, the person, I say, was crucified according to the humanity...Therefore we regard our Lord Christ as God and man in one person, so that we neither confound the natures nor divide the person.

Understanding the two natures of Christ is daunting. We (Lutherans) teach, and I believe, that on Good Friday God did suffer in His humanity (as evidenced in Jesus' anguish in Gethsemane and his crying out on the Cross) and that since God and man are united in one person, it’s correctly called God's death, when the man dies who is one thing or one person with God. Specifically HOW this could happen is beyond the scope of human intellect.

My answer to the question was "God the Son died on the Cross." At face value a good enough answer, but not good enough at the time. God can’t die, but Jesus did. (Lutheran professor Dr. Gene Veith puts it this way: “No, God the Father didn’t suffer, but God the Son did. He did so by assuming a human nature, which made it possible for Him to suffer and to die.”

Jesus had to die a human death in order to be resurrected from the dead. This is why we celebrate Easter.

I believe in a loving God so powerful and so amazing that He became one of us to save all of us from ourselves, and in the process He demonstrated to us that He is not a God who inflicts suffering UPON the creations He so loves, but actually suffered and died FOR them (in their place). We have a God in Christ who knows what suffering and humiliation feels like on a grand scale! Why, then, should we not believe that this same Jesus who died on the Cross rose again, according to Scripture? This is why we celebrate Easter. (See 1 Corinthians 15.)

What God did for us on Good Friday is truly unbelievable! It’s horrible, but it’s awesome. It’s tough love on steroids. God died on the Cross so that you and I might live. We don't have to understand it.

We just have to believe it.

This is why we celebrate Easter! Christ is risen, indeed!! Hallelujah!

With much love,

Pastor E.B.

Ill-booten gotty?

...but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches
and the desires for other things enter in and choke the word, and it proves unfruitful.
 (Mark 4:19 ESV)

I remember a chilly, gray Saturday morning in Indiana about four years ago. Every possible media outlet, from the TV news to Twitter was lit up with the current Powerball jackpot of about a billion dollars. Hopeful souls across the country were braving, in some cases, weather worse than mine to stand in line for a 1-in-292,201,338 chance at hitting the mother lode—we’ve all heard the rags to riches stories (father of four lost his wife and his job and his car and spent his last dollar on the lottery…now his children have new clothes, he’s got a new Maserati, and no doubt lots of new friends and a new wife) (okay that was way too cynical, I admit, but is that not what tempts us to rub the lamp and hope a genie pops out?).

Popular consensus speaks to God’s silence on gambling, in general; yet I would file this Powerball business neatly under the 10^th Commandment; popular contemporary Christian consensus snorts and mumbles something about how Old Testament that kind of thinking is… Christ fulfilled the Law, didn’t he? So what’s the problem? The problem is coveting, which, along with the other 9 thoushaltnots didn’t disappear or become obsolete in the shadow (better, the Light) of the New Testament. Jesus himself makes this very clear in Matthew 22:36-40.

So how does a Christian solve a problem like the lottery? To run with the herd or to get trampled in the stampede, that is the question. But what about playing the stock market (I have two retirement accounts tied up in mutual funds myself)? Both involve ROI, right? And both bring up the question of “properly placed faith” with arguments for and against… Consider the fantastical find of a buried treasure chest filled with some pirate’s ill-gotten booty; we would instantly invoke the finders-keepers rule and now one person’s ill-gotten booty becomes our ill-booten gotty (a Hawkeye-ism from a M*A*S*H episode), not stolen, really…more serendipitous than felonious. Beauty, riches, and coveting are all in the eyes of the beholder.

It’s a sticky wicket. But could God not use any investment apparatus (from a $2 Powerball ticket to a hedge fund in a retirement account) whether or not it pays out as the investor intended? Of course. So could—and does-- Satan. And there is the true power behind our coveting (and we all do it). I don’t have the answer, but Jesus tells his disciples in Mark (4:19 ESV): “...but the cares of the world and the deceitfulness of riches and the desires for other things enter in and choke the word, and it proves unfruitful.” Will a purchase of a Powerball ticket choke the Word of God and prove unfruitful? That question surely gives the Christian in that long line something to think about while waiting…

I think God is the Great Philanthropist, too, when the mood suits Him or the time seems right. His Church has been gifted financially in many ways, many times (through benefactors known and unknown). Often God's hand is indiscernible in such a frenetic world like the one we live in today, and sometimes what appears to be God's hand may be something wholly and woefully different. Take this example I found in a Mental_Floss magazine article:

As she was nearing graduation from UCLA, Carol Burnett and several fellow drama students were invited to a departing professor’s house to perform at his bon voyage party. She performed a scene from the musical Annie Get Your Gun and later that evening, while she was standing in the buffet line, a man she’d never seen before approached her and complimented her performance. He then inquired what she planned to do with her life. She confessed that she dreamed of going to New York one day for a career on the stage, but seeing that she barely had enough gas money to drive back to Los Angeles that evening, it would be a very long time before she’d make it to Broadway. The man told her he’d be happy to lend her $1000 to get her started, with three conditions: that she repay him without interest in five years, that she was never to reveal his identity, and that once she was successful she must pass a similar kindness along to another person in need. (After pondering the offer over the weekend and consulting her mother and grandmother—who advised her to steer clear of the strange man who was probably involved in human trafficking or something worse—she took a chance and accepted his check.)

Think of similar acts of anonymous beneficence to be committed with nearly a billion dollars, no matter where it came from, as long as it’s not ill-gotten booty…but even then…well, let’s just call it ill-booten gotty, shall we?

In the meantime, Temptation holds my place in line...  ;)

With much love,

Pastor E.B.

Zion 2020

“It is a fearful thing to make a rent and a hole in Christ’s mystical body because there is a spot in it.” --Samuel Rutherford, Puritan

By the time you have set eyes upon these words, the world will most likely have tipped into the New Year—that time on the calendar when the majority of us resolve to do better in some area of our lives. Personally, there’s something not right with the thought of making a promise to myself that I probably can’t keep, but there is strength in numbers…so I am offering up this New Year’s resolution challenge to you, my Zion Lutheran Church family: Let’s resolve to add “inreach” to our growing list of those things we do best as a place of worship, spiritual growth, fellowship, and Christian love.

I think of the Magi visiting the Newborn King, about their three gifts and how we, too, have three gifts to offer our Savior (on bended knee), not only at Christmas, but throughout the rest of the year: time, talents, and treasure. We consider much of what we give at church to be a form of outreach—we support this mission, that project, this ministry, that program. In fact, I would venture to say that there is no more visible proof of the Holy Spirit at work than Christian altruism, turning one’s gifts outward for the good of God’s family. And just as outreach means turning outward, helping those on the outside (of the church doors), inreach is the opposite. Successful inreach helps families stay intact and helps outreach to flourish.

If I were to try to define inreach, I would say that it is the maintenance of all (not some) members in their Christian growth and their capacity to contribute to the well-being of the family as a whole. No one person is responsible for the successes (or perceived failures) within. But there are those unique individuals that can drive the family’s direction, for better or for worse.

There are times in every family when the relationships become strained. There are times when not everyone agrees with a decision. There are times when not everyone gets along.  There are times, sadly, when the only option seems to be separation. And congregations are families…

I read somewhere recently that healthy congregations are those that are 1) enriched (not imprisoned) by the past, and open to possibility, 2) committed to growth, realizing that growth brings change, and 3) able to face and deal constructively with conflict. In a perfect congregation every gift and every ministry of every member has been identified, developed, and fully employed. The problem is, there ARE no perfect congregations.

Our congregation has seen the face of and in the church change over the past century. But our core remains the same—neither the pastor, nor the Board of Elders, nor the Church Council, nor the Winter Texans is the reason why our doors are open every Sunday. We are a loving church family that God has constructed and every member has a part in His plan. We rejoice as a family, we grieve as a family, we stand strong as a family, and we pray as a family...but we’re not perfect. And we don’t always have to agree.

So, consider my New Year’s resolution challenge. Our inreach ministry needs you!  I’m asking you to resolve to help your family—your congregation—to see the many opportunities God has placed before us, so we may continue to move forward enriched by our past. In God’s Kingdom, the possibilities really are endless!

May the peace of the Lord be with each and every one of you in the coming year!

With much love,

Pastor E.B.

P.S. Trivial Pursuit? answers from Pastor-gram #30 (12/30/19): 

A1 Exegesis is drawing out a text's meaning in accordance with the Biblical author's intended context and meaning; eisegesis is when a reader imposes his/her own interpretation of the text. (Thus exegesis tends to be objective; and eisegesis, highly subjective.)

A2 A hapax legomenon ("a word said only once" in Greek; often abbreviated just to hapax) is a word which appears only once in a language, a single written work, or the entire body of work of a given author. The words "inspiration" and "ladder" appear only in 2 Timothy 3:16 and Genesis 28:12, respectively.

A3 God bestowed the gift of free will upon both angels and humans; this inevitably raises questions about how and when Satan turned against God (2 Peter 2:4, Jude 6), or whether angels still can, at some future time, rebel. There is no scriptural indication in either the Old or New Testament that the ability to rebel against God’s authority was “turned off” at any time; the angels who faithfully serve God are referred to in Scripture as “holy angels.” (Incidentally, the phrase "fallen angel" never appears in the Bible.)

I don’t live there anymore.

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. (Psalm 23:1 ESV)

U.S. Navy, 18 years old at
Defense Language Institute, 1981
Presidio of Monterey, CA 

[Note: I posted this to a blog on December 29, 2016, about six months after arriving at Concordia Theological Seminary in Ft. Wayne, Indiana.]

I remember when I left my parents' house in Grand Prairie, Texas, on my father's birthday in 1981 (only 2 months after my 18th), for U.S. Navy boot camp. He drove me to the recruiting station on Main St. and then, he confessed to me later, pulled around the corner, parked the car and cried. I was on my way...

I surprised my mother in the kitchen when I showed up unexpectedly two months later in my Navy uniform; a friend picked me up and drove me home to begin a short leave before my Basic Russian course began at the Defense Language Institute in California. I remember how familiar everything looked, smelled, sounded-- it seemed then that I was the only change in the tableau. By the time I was ready to head back to my new life as a sailor, I realized that I was no longer part of the world I had left that morning my father drove me downtown. And arriving back at my school in California, it struck me that I wasn't entirely a part of that world, either—in fact, I was more than a little intimidated by some of the other sailors I met there. Some already had college behind them, most seemed incredibly smart, and on the first day of class I became certain that my presence there was the result not of my aptitude, intelligence, or gift for languages, but of a Navy clerical error. But I made new friends and, in retrospect, got through Russian by the grace of God. A year after leaving home I was entrenched in Navy life and on subsequent visits to see family, Texas would seem less and less like home, like the place where I belonged.

Fast forward 35 years, past two "careers" (20 years in the Navy, followed by 15 years as a high school teacher), at least a dozen different places to call home, and here I am at home again, clacking away on a keyboard in Ft. Wayne, Indiana, having returned yesterday from a very nice one-week visit to Texas for Christmas—we got to spend quality time with my mom and daughters, worship at our home congregation, and catch up with friends. We were back in the same city from which we left in June for the seminary, back in the same area where our daughters graduated from high school, where we moved from one house to another in the span of a dozen years, where our family has roots...

The face of the Dallas-Ft. Worth area is changing (as it always has been). It's crowded and there is construction everywhere—especially highway (we rented a car at Dallas Love Airport and needed GPS from I-35 to I-30, an area I've driven since I was old enough to drive). I resisted the urge to drive by the house we left behind while in the neighborhood to see the doctor and pick up a prescription. Only six months ago it was home.

Installed as pastor of  Zion Lutheran
Church in Alamo, TX - 9/6/19

We left my mother's house yesterday morning and on the drive back to the airport in Dallas, I had the overwhelming sensation, again, of no longer belonging to that place I left in 1981. As I moved through the familiarity of people and places, I felt like a...ghost. I wish I could explain it better... I don't think either of us could legitimately call where we are right now home. I sort of feel like I did when I returned to California to start Russian after that first leave, that "in-between" feeling (maybe this is what purgatory is like?). We're at home, but not home... And in an eerily similar coincidence, upon arrival here at the seminary I've been more than a little intimidated by the professors and some of the other guys I've met here. Some are way over-educated, most seem incredibly smart, and on the first day of Greek class I was sure that my presence there was the result not of my aptitude, intelligence, or gift for languages, but of Providence. We've made new friends and will finish up here next summer entirely by the grace of God.

[As I write this near the end of 2019, I’m at home here in the Rio Grande Valley, pastor of a congregation serving Christ. And not just at home, I am home…entirely by the grace of God!]

That’s it until next month… I wish all of you a warm, family- and Christ-filled Christmas, and may God continue to pour out His blessings upon you in the coming year!

May God lead you home,

Pastor E.B.

“What God has joined together, let no one put asunder.”

Of the myriad cases of conscience clergy must deal with in today's world, divorce has to be among the most common. And the LCMS admits that there can be extenuating circumstances; however, we believe and teach that divorce is contrary to God's original design and intention for marriage.

A couple of years ago, a lawyer in California authored an interesting article on divorce in America that showed up on the Communities Digital News website. She notes that Millennials are responsible for a decline in marriages (they are marrying later in life) and, consequently, a decline in divorces; however, the average divorce occurs at year 12 and Millennials don't quite fit the stat...yet. Encouraging as these declines may be, there's a more disturbing statistic—among Baby Boomers, of which I'm one, divorce has been on the serious incline since 1990, nearly doubling for 50+ and tripling for 65+.

According to Pew Research Center data, in 2017 nearly 8 in 10 Millennials with low levels of religious commitment describe themselves as atheists, agnostics or “nothing in particular.” My guess is that as these Millennials get to the 12-year average their divorce rate will spike—and I'm certain that church, or lack thereof, in their lives will play an integral role. To understand divorce, one must first understand marriage (as a covenant made between a man, a woman, and God, not a biological mating ritual).

Sadly, many folks, both in and out of church, view marriage as a contract (maybe not necessarily made to be broken, but surely not ironclad). In a Pastoral Theology class in seminary, the students were presented a list of case scenarios to choose from and then formulate a pastoral response. I chose the following...

Case Scenario: A female member in your parish tells you that she is seeking a divorce from her husband because he (an unbeliever, not a member of your congregation or any other that you know of) has “abandoned the marriage” by his refusal to get a job and support her and their children. What should be done?

Such a case study scenario, as the one above, seems all too real in a fallen world in which just about everything is disposable, including marriage—divorce is rampant in America (876,000 per year). From my point of view, it seems all too easy to simply corral a contentious couple intent on dissolving their marriage and, before suggesting marital counseling, invoke these words from the wedding ceremony, “What God has joined together, let no one put asunder.” However, since the time of the Reformation, troubled marriages have plagued the consciences of even the most well-intentioned of pastors. As the wife in this scenario argues for divorce, so God must certainly argue for reconciliation. As for the question at hand (What should be done?), there is no one-size-fits-all, easy answer.

As Lutheran reformers attempted to refocus marriage practices within the framework of God’s intention, it became more evident that the destructive force of sin upon human relationships complicates what constitutes the legitimate need for divorce to be considered; our church relies upon only two verses as the criteria (Matthew 19:18—adultery, 1 Corinthians 7:15—abandonment or desertion) against which to validate the decision to dissolve that which God Himself created.

In addressing the case scenario, several facts are obvious: a) adultery is not the catalyst for the wife’s desire for divorce, b) God, from His Word, intends for the faithful to remain married and that marriage is not contractual, but a covenant between a man, woman, and God, c) God’s will is for believers to marry believers, d) divorce is permitted, but only as a result of death. One inference bubbling to the surface is whether the wife—a church member—is looking for a way out of the marriage, convinced in faith that this is the only way to honor God; however, this motive is doubtful, given the available facts. More likely this is not so much a faith issue, per se, as one of spousal frustration.

There are not enough details to make the case scenario a textbook case for why Christians should only marry other Christians, but it makes for a good lesson to that effect. And sadly, the fact that wife is a member (active? new? remarried?) and her husband an unbeliever is the root of their troubles and will continue to be a draft on the pilot light of their marriage. 

As I finish off this newsletter article, it occurs to me just how little my wife and knew about marriage (I was 22, she was 21—so young!). And while it hasn't always been perfect over the last 34 years, our marriage has become better and stronger when we acknowledge that its designer, God, is the glue that holds it together. 

That’s it until next month…

Peace by with you,

Pastor E.B.

Of Spooks and Spirits

October is the season for spooks, spirits, and cemeteries as Halloween and Día de Muertos approach. While I’m not necessarily a fan of Halloween (because of the commercialization and inconvenience, mostly), and I respect another culture’s annual commemoration of the dearly departed, I figure this is the perfect time to address the supernatural—many folks find answers to the question “Are there such things as ghosts?” in church, but so many others get their theology from the media.

A few years ago, I happened across an episode of “The Demon Files” on tv. This ghost-busting ex-NYC police officer was shouting obscenities into the air (meant for an evil spirit or demon or spook or something) while brandishing a crucifix, all in the name of Jesus Christ. Oh yeah, and it was after dark, naturally. At first I was mildly amused, then I began to think about the people that buy into this Exorcist syndrome (yes, upper-case E from the very good 1971 film that briefly made movie-goers Roman Catholic and afraid of the dark).

Evil really does exist and masks itself in the vanity, conceit, self-centeredness, and violent behavior we subject ourselves to daily in stark opposition to the pure goodness of God, and the only defense against a foe that hates his Creator and considers Man an intellectual, emotional, psychological (especially!), and spiritual weakling is a sincere repentance and faith in God's sacrifice of Christ for our sins. Holy water, invocations in Latin, profanity, and a crucifix wielded like a baseball bat are the symptoms of good intentions turned into desperation. We mortals are so, so vain. It almost cracks me up to think of this macho ex-cop trying to pick a fight with a force that could kill him as soon as look at him…but won't. Man is more valuable to Satan alive than dead. The much scarier devil is in the details, as they say—in the details of Scripture. Temptation. Why would Satan need all the pyrotechnics and showmanship to lure the unsuspecting away from God? No one understands the proverb "pride goes before a fall" (more specifically Proverbs 16:18) more than one whose own pride brought him down.

There's this other guy who shows up on some paranormal investigation tv shows in priestly garb with a censer, cross, and book of incantations, but few credentials, yet the folks infested with demons and evil spirits sigh with relief when he shows up on their doorstep like some sort of spiritual Orkin guy. And, sadly, these types of shockumentaries are such a poor source of theology for the unchurched.

Movies like “The Exorcist” and “The Conjuring” keep the unchurched, unfaithful, and uninformed in the dark, where levitating, pea-green-soup-barfing possessed teenage girls with animal eyes give even the most devout of Roman Catholic priests more than they bargained for. (However, both films are based on real events; “The Exorcist” has its roots in a Lutheran family's issues with their teenaged son's erratic behavior in the late 1940s and the “The Conjuring” chronicles the notoriety of 1970s-era husband-and-wife demonologists Ed and Lorraine Warren, he also an ex-cop, she a self-proclaimed medium).

The Bible supports the existence of spirits, to be sure. That they are wandering souls of humans is a fallacy; Martin Luther once said, “Wherever we go, wherever we stand, we are between angels and demons.” And the latter are to be handled with God’s Word and faith. The simple way to get rid of spooks is by changing the channel or, without meaning to sound un-American, not answering the door on Halloween. No need for a priest.

That’s it until next month…

Peace by with you,

Pastor E.B.

God Doesn’t Need Your Money (it’s not yours, anyway)

“I have held many things in my hands, and I have lost them all; but whatever I have placed in God's hands, that I still possess.” (Martin Luther)

September 17 will mark the start of my 3^rd year here at Zion Lutheran Church. In two years I have never written about or preached on giving. As move into fall and toward the end of the church year, I thought this might be a good time to offer a few words about how we are to respond to God’s blessings. So here goes…

For one thing, God doesn’t need our money; however, He has given believers in Christ certain commands about how to use finances for the work of the Church. In the New Testament God invites us to give each week in accordance with how we have prospered.

You may say to yourself, "My power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me." But remember the LORD your God, for it is he who gives you the ability to produce wealth, and so confirms his covenant, which he swore to your forefathers, as it is today. (Deuteronomy 8:17-18)

In the New Testament we are told to “excel in this grace of giving” (2 Corinthians 8:7). Our Lord tells us that “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:21).

Jesus said, “No one can serve two masters. For you will hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.” (Matthew 6:24)

We do not make God poor when we fail to give money to Him properly, but we do make ourselves poor if we do not give according to the standards He sets for us in His Word, the Bible. Giving must be done voluntarily, not under compulsion, and cheerfully, not grudgingly:

"The point is this: whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work." (2 Corinthians 9:6-8)

Giving should be from the firstfruits of our labor. Our giving is what we do on the first day of the week before our other expenses come due. The word “tithing” comes from the Old English word for “tenth.” To tithe means to give one-tenth of one’s income, or 10 percent. Tithing was a part of the Old Testament law for Israel (along with the entire law for the nation, including the dietary laws, which stated that one should not eat pork, shellfish, etc.). As such, God promised to bless Israel’s faithfulness to this and all other Old Testament laws:

“Bring the full tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. And thereby put me to the test, says the LORD of hosts, if I will not open the windows of heaven for you and pour down for you a blessing until there is no more need.” ​(Malachi 3:10)

To say that God will necessarily bless us financially if we tithe or do any other good work is to make God beholden to us and to deny the cross of Christ. All things being equal, of course, a life lived in accordance with God’s commands is more blessed that a life lived in disobedience. If we are faithful, God will bless us, but we must realize that God will bless us in the shade of the cross. God graciously promises to give us all that we need for this body and life. We should give in faith, trusting that God will provide for all our needs, though not necessarily our wants! After all, if we can trust God with our eternal salvation, can we not trust Him to provide our daily bread?​​

"In all things I have shown you that by working hard in this way we must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he himself said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’” (Acts 20:35)

God’s Word encourages us to cheerfully give faithfully—and generously—not just of our treasures, but of our time and talents also, to God’s work in the Church. It’s no easy task to be a pastor and talk about giving, so I leave you with the following quote about it from C.S. Lewis:

“I do not believe one can settle how much we ought to give. I am afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare. In other words, if our expenditure on comforts, luxuries, amusements, etc., is up to the standard common among those with the same income as our own, we are probably giving away too little. If our charities do not at all pinch or hamper us, I should say they are too small. There ought to be things we should like to do and cannot do because our charitable expenditure excludes them.”

That’s it until next month…

Peace by with you,

Pastor E.B.

What’s in a Name?

God IS gracious! A blessing we take for granted is language, which has connected us to one another from the time of the Garden of Eden. Humans are designed to be relational beings and our biblical roots are deep, though not always obvious.

Perhaps you’ve heard the old yarn about Bruce and the Spider and never giving up. Once upon a time, at the tip of the 14^th century, King of Scotland “Robert the Bruce” is said to have hidden in a cave for three months after being defeated in battle. While passing the time, he watched as a spider tried over and over again to build a web before eventually succeeding. Inspired by the spider’s determination, legend has it, the king came out of hiding to lead Scotland to victory the first war for independence from England. He's a national hero still today in Scotland. This Robert the Bruce of legend was actually the 8^th to bear the name and is connected to Mel Gibson’s “Braveheart” story. My story, however, really begins with the 1^st Robert the Bruce of the 12^th century…

Way back in the 1100s, there was this other guy who’s gone down in history as the first to bear the surname Johnestoun (or Johnstone), the now anglicized Johnston (with or without the "t"), one John Johnston, the (pardon the pun) John(ny) Appleseed of the Scots Clan Johnston, from which I purport myself to be descended (dangling precariously by one gene strand from at least 35 generations up). Robert the Bruce (the 1^st), the First Lord of Annandale, personally rewarded John for fighting bravely alongside him during the Norman Conquest. John was granted the whole 800-some-odd-square-mile strath (valley area) of Annandale to govern as lord.

John was of the Norman lords arriving in Scotland in the 1100. At that time surnames weren’t being used. They didn’t appear until about 1,000 AD. The first people in Scotland to acquire surnames were the Norman Nobeles, who came from France with William the Conqueror and were of Viking ancestry. John was known simply as "John," the only name he had. Those lands became known as "Johnstun" or "John's town" ("tun" from the Celtic language translates to "town" or "lands").

The Johnston Clan of Annandale held a chunk of turf on the southern edge of the Scottish Lowlands, on the English border, about the size of Dallas County. And they feuded a lot with their neighbors, most notably the Maxwell Clan to the west. They must have made peace in the late 16th century, because a Johnston son married a Maxwell daughter and they became my 11th great-grandparents.

Around 1630, there's a fork in my Johnston line that bows out a ways and then, according to my hypothesis, reunites somewhere in the ancestors that follow a guy named Gowain Johnestoun (aka Gavin Johnston) born in the mid-1400s. He’s very likely directly related to the John that started it all, as were practically all the Johnstons of his day. I just cannot find corroborative proof of his father's name, which is a bummer since it puts my direct descendancy to King Crimthann (who was the King of Ireland when Jesus was born) and, I suppose, my kilt on hold for the time being...

Johnston is my great-grandmother’s maiden name and it’s among the twenty most common names in Ireland. Its roots are biblical, from the Hebrew name Jehohanan (“Yahweh is gracious”), which consists of two elements, the first being Yehu, an abbreviated forms of the Tetragrammaton YHWH (or Yahweh/God). The second (-hanan) comes from the verb meaning “to be gracious.” There are 10 different men in the Old Testament with that name, adopted into the Latin via Greek as Johannes, later shortened to the anglicized form John, such a common name, such a powerful message! God IS gracious!

As a postscript, I must tell you of the Devil's Beef Tub. The 53-mile Annandale Way, "a walk which gets under the skin of the landscape, offering the walker glimpses into the history and hidden secrets of this quiet and tranquil part of Scotland, parts of which have remained undisturbed for centuries," circumnavigates it. A pilgrimage to the Devil's Beef Tub (in my Clan Johnston kilt, of course) is now on my bucket list.

That’s it until next month…

Peace be with you,

Pastor E.B.