Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places: Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! What if we took All Saints Day seriously? Oh, I know we do already.  It is one of my favorite services as we celebrate those who have died in the past year and lift up their names in the midst of singing.  How meaningful and important this is.  We will do so tomorrow in our one worship service at 10 am.  No, what I mean is, what if we took seriously the meaning behind All Saints Day and acted upon it?

Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! My mom gave me a dime to give away. I was five, it was Sunday morning, I was probably running late again, and as I raced out the back door to cross the alley to church, my mom gave me a dime. “Now remember to put this in the offering plate when you get to Sunday School,” she told me.  I said I would, and I did.  Every Sunday. Mom gave me a dime to give to the church which would then be given to someone else...

Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places: Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! Jesus sends before him seventy of his followers into every town and place (Luke 10:1-12).  This is the first time in the gospels we go first. Here’s why I would go: My earliest memories have church in them. Magical Christmas Eve services.  Running around the church feeling it was my second home.  Sliding under the pews. Being surrounded by people who always smiled at me. ...

Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places: Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! Blessings upon our animal companions.  Greta was a miniature black and tan dachshund who joined the family as a six-month old when I was nine.  She had a crooked tail, never chased a stick or a ball, didn’t play with toys and spent most of her life under a blanket, along with being a steadfast companion to grandpa who wasn’t well and needed someone like her.  Thank you, Greta, for being different than your average dog and the ways you blessed grandpa’s life, and my own.

Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places: Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! I missed this one. When I first began as Pastor/Head of Staff at my previous church in Cleveland way back in 1995 I preached a four-sermon series on models for the church.  I suggested that the church could be a Center for Wellbeing, a School of the Spirit, a Circle of Stories, and a Welcoming Home.  We made banners for each one and began to pattern our ministry around these themes. I should have added A House of Prayer.

Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places: Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! We pray the answer every Sunday. If you ever want to know, or anyone ever asks you to define Christianity, or what churches do, or who we are as followers of Jesus, recite the Lord’s Prayer.  It has everything we need to know.  And it may surprise you. With the help of scholar Obery M. Hendricks and his book, The Politics of Jesus, here goes...

Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places: Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! “So who is going to preach?” This question lingered in my Honda Accord for several exits as we headed down Interstate 71 from Wooster, Ohio, to Cow Creek, Kentucky.  There were three of us in the car that fall Friday in 1980:  Jim, now a retired cardiologist, Jenny, who married me twenty years later, and me.  All seniors in college, we had volunteered to lead worship for Joe Powlas, long-time pastor, missionary, and friend who would be away that weekend from this tiny hamlet in the hollers. So we drew straws, and I literally came up with the short stick. Yikes. ...

Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places: Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! When I was four, I was told I couldn’t play in the church anymore. Actually, that’s not quite true but it sure seemed like it.  The pronouncement came by way of a note I was not yet old enough to read.  My friend and I found it on the shelf in a basement closet of the Presbyterian church in Wooster, Ohio, the same shelf that we had been happily making into our secret hiding place.  Oh, we were having such fun!  Crawling up there was half the joy, and decorating it was almost as good, filling it with all kinds of knick-knacks from home.  My dad was pastor, we lived in the manse next door, and the lines between home and church were happily blurred.  Until the note.

Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places: Greetings in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ! It’s impossible until it isn’t. This phrase keeps hanging around in my mind and apparently doesn’t want to leave. I heard it a few days ago from Father John Dear at Ghost Ranch as he addressed the seventy-two gun violence prevention activists who gathered there. He kept us captivated by his adventures of nonviolence across the world. My, does John have stories! He talked of all the great movements which started from the ground up, movements such as labor, suffragettes, civil rights, women, LGBTQ, and so on, and each one was thought to be impossible. Until it wasn’t.