Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places: Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! When I think about it I am a bit amused and somewhat surprised. I never imagined in my early years that I would ever give a sermon, let alone keep giving them for forty-one years! By my rough calculation I have given 1600 sermons and logged around 13,000 hours preparing them. I cringe thinking about my first sermons and still cringe when I can’t figure out a way to make scripture come alive and grab hold of us and take us to a new address. That’s on me, not scripture. It has plenty of power and resources to change lives.

Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places: Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! Here I am, Lord. Have you ever said this? I know we sing the hymn a few times a year with this refrain, but have you ever thought more about what it means? Be careful if you do. Ask a prophet, any of them, and you’ll learn that a call from God is not all sunbeams on a golden field or fluffy clouds spelling out your name. (Where did we ever get that idea?) Instead, God’s call comes in times of spiritual desolation, religious corruption, political danger, and social upheaval.

Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places: Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! Jesus wept. If you want to impress your friends with reciting Bible verses this is the one. It is easy to memorize, yes, but that’s where easy ends. Jesus weeps and it’s hard to watch. The fully divine don’t weep, do they? But the fully human do, I know, those who feel deeply the plight of the human spirit trying to survive in a world turned upside down and sideways.

Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places: Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! Do I sacrifice my corn dog and let my coke splash to the ground? Let me back up. It must be told that after all the games I have watched in stadiums across the country, I am yet to catch a foul ball at a major league baseball game. I came oh-so-close twice. The first when I was twelve and came down with a fever the Sunday I was to go to a Dodger game with my friend and his parents and they gave my ticket to their uncle who sat in my seat. I get a call that afternoon saying that the uncle caught a foul ball! Came right to him, my friend told me. Right to my seat.

Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places: Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! John Buchanan died this week. Father of Diane, father-in-law to Rick, friend to many, leader in the Church. So much more. For twenty-seven years he was senior pastor of Fourth Presbyterian Church in Chicago, one of the flagship churches of the Presbyterian Church (USA), 6,000 members strong when he retired. A “light in the city” was its tagline, and it really was. More than just the city of Chicago, Fourth Pres and John’s light shone across the country and throughout our denomination.