The Worst Word in the English Language

    This past Saturday, I joined my wife Kathy and our youngest son Casey in Flat Rock NC for our annual visit to the home of Carl Sandburg.  For the past eight years, after picking up Casey from Camp Tekoa in Hendersonville, we've paid our respects to the "People's Poet", visiting his home (Connemara) playing with the goats (eating some goat-milk fudge), sitting on the big rock about behind the house where Carl Sandburg loved to write, while remembering and reflecting about the value of words to speak to the human condition and to the strength of the human spirit.

    And this past Saturday, as we've done before, we watched a video.  It was a video of an interview with Mr. Sandburg conducted by famed newsman Edward R. Murrow.  During the interview, Murrow asked Carl an interesting question:

   "What do you think is the worst word in the English language?"

   The reply came quickly - "Exclusive."

   He went on to say that the word exclusive is the worst and most despicable of English words, because it allows us to exclude others from our hearts and minds.

   I've thought a good bit about Carl Sandburg's reply over the past few days.  I've thought about it in light of my recent reflections about the church, about faith and grace. 

   First let me say, that as a middle-aged, white, American, Christian, male, I readily admit that I have never been the victim of injustice due to the color of my skin - I've never been marginalized due to my ethnic background, language or accent - I don't know what it must feel like to receive less pay for equal work due to my gender - I have never experienced persecution at the hands of anyone because of my faith.  

   I've never been victimized by personal or systemic racism, never been profiled, never falsely accused or unreasonably suspected.  I've never been the victim of cultural, political or religious bias or prejudice.

   In fact, if truth be told, its people like me - middle-aged, white, American, Christian males, who have traditionally been the power brokers of our cultural, political, religious and societal institutions. Consequently its people like me who have been most often guilty of building the kinds of walls designed to keep people (unlike me) out and making the rules to keep people (like me) ahead of the game. 

  Of course, I know the pain of personal slights and insults. I know the wounds of being de-valued, disregarded, disrespected and ignored (After all, I am a pastor...and a parent!).  However, any personal stories I may have of feeling excluded are not worthy of mention, in light of the systemic kinds of exclusion many people have faced their entire lives.

   And so, Carl Sandburg spoke to me all the way from 1954 this past Saturday, and burned a bad word in my memory.  "Exclusive."  

   Living exclusive lives - with hearts and minds protected behind gated communities, circling the wagons, keeping others out, avoiding the unclean, despising the Samaritan - does not describe a Jesus-centered life.

   Living exclusive lives is what we do when we put labels on people, easily de-humanizing them.  By labeling we categorize people like lab rats, allowing us to keep others at a safe distance.   Labeling is a way for "us" to identify (and distance ourselves from) "them".   

   It's what we've been guilty of in the church much too often.  May God forgive us for all the times we have shown more hostility than hospitality to those unlike us, for the times we've been silent in the face of hate, injustice and violence, for the times our language and actions have been un-kind, un-loving, un-Christian....in a word, "exclusive."

  As the church, we are not called to be the gate-keepers of the kingdom.  Regardless of what we may think, not one of us has been gifted with sufficient discernment, nor have we been entrusted with the task of identifying and pulling the weeds from the Master's garden, lest in our self-righteous, sincere exuberance we yank up a handful of God's most precious and prized wheat.

  I don't know about you, but I can't imagine a scenario where even the most dogmatic, close-minded, religious fundamentalist could feel good about standing before the thrown of God on that day, boasting how he or she protected God's church from the likes of "them." 

  I'm thinking a lot of things about the church these days.  Some things are troubling and sad, things like barrenness and brokenness, decline and death.  But I'm also thinking about things like faithfulness and fruitfulness, things like repentance, renewal and resurrection.

  And today I'm thinking that I agree with Carl Sandburg.


Grace and Peace!

Pastor Randy

   

 
 

 

  

   

  
   

  
   

Having a Beer with Jesus

    OK.  Made you look!

     When I was part of a clergy group taking a unit of Clinical Pastoral Education at NC Baptist Hospital in Winston-Salem a number of years ago, we were told of a pastor who had been seeing a doctor for a stubborn stomach ailment.

    Eventually, the doctor suggested that the pastor try a daily glass of wine to help his stomach.  To which the pastor is reported to have said:  "I will not.  I'm a tee-total-er.  Alcohol has never touched my lips and it will never touch my lips." 

   The doctor replied, "I'm not a particularly religious man, but didn't Jesus turn water into wine at a wedding once?"

    "Yeah, but I sure would've thought more of him, if he hadn't done that!"

    I've cut my theological teeth in the South.  I've being raised in the faith in relatively small church settings, and I've served a series of rural churches as a United Methodist Pastor for a little more than two decades in the heart of the Bible Belt, and so I'm well aware that the suggestion Jesus might not be adverse to sitting down to a cold one, would be fairly unpopular in my neck of the woods.

    But before you judge too quickly, you may recall that religious leaders once chastised Jesus for eating and drinking too much, and often complained that he spent too much time in table fellowship with all sorts of un-religious folk.

    I've thought a good bit about the state of the church of late, thinking about the changing landscape of Christianity in America, about the decline of the institutional church, and the new expressions of Christianity that are being birthed and cultivated all around us.  Tales of "Emerging" Christian communities and new monastic communions are reminders that, even as old wineskins have run their course, new wineskins are being formed and shaped, making room for the growing "holy fermentation"* being birthed by the Spirit of God.

     Believe it or not, I've heard of church services that are meeting in pubs, and on a recent trip to the Washington D.C. area, I learned of a Bible Study that was meeting in a local bar.  I'm pretty sure this ain't happening in Rowan County!     

    As I've tried to prayerfully think about how best to think about what it means for me, an ordained clergy entrenched in a large church denomination, with a long established hierarchy, discipline and polity, trying to be relevant in our ever-changing world while struggling beneath the burden of clergy health and pension benefits, it has drawn me back once again to what I believe to be true about the person and work of Jesus.

    And whenever I take the time to reflect on the life he lived, I must consider the life I believe I am called to live, if indeed the spirit of Jesus lives in me. 

    John Wesley, the founder of the Methodist movement, once struggled with leaving the ornate sanctuaries of the Church of England and the acceptable practice of formal pulpit-preaching to take the gospel message to the masses out in the fields and coal mines.  After some inner struggle he finally agreed to become more "vile" in his words, and forgo formality in favor of the mandate of  the mission of Christ.  John Wesley had left the building!

    For what it's worth, I think Jesus is exactly the kind of Messiah who wouldn't bat an eye at sipping a Sam Adams while making a friend at the bar. I think he would go to the places where people live, to the places where people laugh and cry, to the places where people ask real questions and long for honest answers, not Christian clichés.

    I think he would listen, really listen.  He would love, really love.  He wouldn't be as religious as he would be real .  In fact, that was one of the reasons he kept running afoul with the religious authorities of his day, he just wasn't religious enough!

     He would  be authentic, genuine, whole, human. He would love without condition.  He would understand.  He would forgive.  And sitting across the table from him, we would find ourselves wanting to spend more time with him.  And the more time we spent with him, the more we would want to become more like him!

    I'm still thinking about what all this means for me, and for my church.  I'm still thinking about the places I usually go and the people I normally meet, as well as the places I've steered clear of and the people I've avoided.  And the more I think about these kinds of things, the more I wonder if Jesus is pleased with me...or not.

    I close with a toast -

    May we follow Jesus today, looking for him in faces familiar and unfamiliar.  May we risk being  more real than religious, and may we love with a love that can change the world!

   Bottoms up!


Grace and Peace!

  Pastor Randy


* A term used by Dr. Elaine Heath at Annual Conference this past June.


   

    

   

  
   



  

  

Confessions of a Complainer

   "In programs of peer learning by officers in the military, it is clear that those in training are expected to be contributors, not complainers.  It is an important and necessary distinction.  There are those who will complain and remain passive, waiting for the institution to ease their burden and solve their problems."

Gil Rendle
Back to Zero - the Search to Rediscover the Methodist Movement

    Part of my summer reading focuses on the state of the church and church renewal.  Gil Rendle offers helpful insight for those who love the church, who recognize there is indisputable need for change in the church, and who are willing to participate in that change no matter how challenging it may be or how uncomfortable it is.  I count myself in this number.

    The above quote about the difference between "contributors" and "complainers" made me both smile and wince.  I smiled because I can readily "Amen" such a statement.  I clearly get the logic that we can be part of the solution or part of the problem.  And belly-aching about the church or the conference or some mystical un-named "they" or "them" out there somewhere will never be fruitful or productive or helpful.

    But it sure can be be fun!

    Alas.  That's where my wincing came in....

    In another life (not a Shirley McLain kind of other life) I was an insurance agent.  It was a short, four month career that provided a brief resume bridge, ending a period of unemployment and continuing until I begin my broadcasting career (another one my lives). 

    I was hired as an agent in the Asheboro office of a fairly large insurance company.  After a couple of months, the Asheboro office was closed, which meant we would travel to meet once a week in the High Point office.  It was decided that we would also stay in touch by meeting for breakfast once a week at a local Asheboro restaurant.

   And that's where it started.

   We didn't like losing our home base office in Asheboro.   We didn't like having to meet once a week in High Point.  We didn't feel as if we were being treated fairly.  And breakfast became a great place to vent, to complain, to mourn and wail.  And we got pretty darned good at it.

    And it sure was fun!

    Looking back on those days, I think I was able to complain with the best of them.  Though today I recognize that being around chronic hand-wringers really can suck the life out of my soul, back then in the midst of it, I found a strange comfort in cultivating my innate hand-wringing skills while seated at the table of other like-minded lament-ers, who were as convinced as I, that we were getting royally screwed!

   And as much comfort as I found in participating in those glorious weekly complaining concerts, and as entertaining  as it was poking fun at the obvious clueless-ness of management, the downward spiraling of my commissions eventually caught my eye.  And I began to see a direct correlation between my constant state of complaining, my growing "woe is me" posturing, and my decreasing motivation for being a good, successful and fruitful insurance agent.

   And then one day at breakfast, somewhere between my second and seventh cup of coffee, I repented!  Like the prodigal son of Luke chapter 15, I "came to myself."  I began to think that maybe I had wallowed in the miry bog of despair long enough.  I realized that I was taking as much poison into my soul as coffee into my stomach.  I recognized that my constant complaining and bickering and blaming was not doing anything to change anything, it wasn't producing any healthy attitudes or behaviors, it wasn't bearing any positive or valuable fruit in me or through me.  

   Here's what I learned from that experience.  Complaining is contagious.  Sometimes it just takes one negative voice at the table to turn the tide. And, for whatever reason (maybe its Sin?), we tend to hop on a negative bandwagon more quickly than anything other kind.  It just seems more fun!  And there does seem to be a kind of twisted / perverted pleasure in a passive-aggressive sort of, "I'm not going to do anything to help, but I'm going to blame every body else" hand-wringing in the midst of other people wringing their hands.  Misery does indeed love company! 
     
   And if you constantly surround yourself with negative nay-sayers, habitual hand-wringers and frequent finger-pointers, trust me - you will drink the kool-aide, and your spirit will be poisoned.

   If this describes where you are these days, it may time to eat at a different table!

  Listen!  Please take it from me, a recovering complainer.  Nothing good will come from constant, chronic belly-aching and finger-pointing.  It was true for a group of disgruntled, displaced, insurance agents - it's true for any other work environment - it's true for families - it's true for the church!

   So....here's to casting off whatever remnant of the "complainer" remains in your spirit  - and taking up the mantle of "contributor."  Here's to refusing to play the blame-game and avoid finger-pointing.  Here's to doing something constructive, helpful, healthy and fruitful.

    Here's to making a positive difference in your home, at your work, in the church and in the world.

    Now......don't you feel better already? 


  Grace and Peace!

  Pastor Randy
  


   
   

   
   

Grace Upon Grace

"From his fullness, we have received grace upon grace."

John 1:16

     During the summer, I generally step away from my usual preaching practice of following the Revised Common Lectionary (a three-year cycle of suggested preaching texts [Old Testament, Epistle, Psalm and Gospel selections] that flow with the rhythm of the church's liturgical worship calendar), and try my hand at some kind of sermon series.

     Admittedly, I don't do sermon series particularly well in my estimation.  I really do prefer the order of the Lectionary.  Beginning with the text, instead of a theme, just feels more right to me.  Sometimes the sermon series is still guided by the suggested Lectionary readings.  One summer, for example, I chose all the selections from the Psalms.  On another occasional, I focused on all the epistle (letter) readings from Romans during the summer months.

     And my original plans for this summer, were to preach from the Old Testament Prophets, as guided by the Lectionary.  However I shifted away from that line of thinking before June arrived, and I decided I would use the sermons of John Wesley as the inspiration for the summer sermon series.

     Which leads me to John 1:16.

     I'm actually not sure if Wesley ever used this as a sermon text.  I haven't run across it yet in the various sermons I've read and studied.  However, if he didn't, he really missed a good opportunity, because John's "words" about the "Word" made flesh are certainly formative to Wesley's theology.  It's all grace, grace upon grace!

     Woven throughout the theological DNA of Methodism is God's grace.  Grace is understood as God's favor, God's unmerited favor.  Grace is God's gift.  We cannot earn it, we do not deserve it.  It is simply God's gracious gift that flows freely from God's abundant and extravagant nature, which is love.

     When Wesley preached and taught about God's Salvation offered in Christ, it was always grace upon grace.  Its God's grace that reaches out to us before we know God, inviting us, loving us, wooing us, drawing us and ultimately enabling us to choose the God who has already chosen us.

      It's God's grace that brings us a sense of conviction about the disease of Sin with which we are all afflicted,  it's grace that draws us to seek forgiveness for our sin through the atoning blood of Christ, it's grace that regenerates us through the new birth, making us new creations in Christ by grace through faith ("For by grace you have been saved through faith.  It is not your own doing, it is the gift of God." Ephesians 2:8)  

      It's God's grace that continues working in and through us in the gradual work of Sanctification, enabling us to grow in holiness and righteousness, in Christian maturity and Christ-likeness.  It is a process that can be described as having our hearts "habitually filled with love" of God and love of neighbor, and as love increases - sin decreases, until the the Image of God, previously marred by our human sin is fully restored in us.  Wesley understood this to be the goal of the Christian life, a restored image and renewed relationship with God, which he described as "full salvation."

     And, its important to point out that, in this theological scheme of things, there is never an occasion for boasting, never a point of "arriving", never a point where we are designed or destined to plateau.  In good Wesleyan theology, we are never really standing still.  We are either going forward or backward, either growing in grace or backsliding.  And we never get to a place of holiness and righteousness where we are no longer in need of the atoning merits of Christ' blood, or the continual interceding of Christ on our behalf.

     I am discovering that spending the summer with Wesley is a very rich experience for me.  Its a good discipline for me as a United Methodist Preacher, forcing me, to re-visit and re-claim the basic beliefs of the founder of Methodism that have served to shape the church through which I have experienced my call to ordained ministry.

    But beyond that - how good it is to immerse myself again in the rich, cool, refreshing well of God's grace.  It is good to be reminded that any good work I may accomplish, any good endeavor upon which I may embark, any higher level of faith I may reach, will always be dependent upon the initiating work of God's grace. 

     I'm glad for this summer reminder that it's all grace, grace upon grace!

     Thanks be to God!


Grace and Peace!

  Pastor Randy


      

Remembering Costa Rica

   One year ago this week, 12 members of our congregation (7 youth and 5 adults) traveled to Costa Rica for our first-ever foreign mission trip.  I was privileged to be numbered among them.  We worked with Rice and Beans Ministry, a ministry that focuses on carrying food and offering prayers to families in some of the poorest regions of this beautiful country.  The following reflections were gleaned from my daily notes.

Costa Rica – Day 1 (Saturday – June 30, 2012)

    Today, we left Charlotte around 11:30am, and arrived in Costa Rica around 4:30pm our time – 2:30 local time.  After picking up our luggage, passing through immigration and customs, we stepped out onto the busy streets of San Jose Costa Rica.

    Louis - pronounced Loo-EES, (manager of the bus company contracted by "Rice and Beans Ministry") met us outside.  A few minutes later a big bus pulled up to the curb and we met our non-English speaking driver who would be with us all week, Mario.   The 4 plus hour ride to Santa Rosa was filled with bumper to bumper traffic, many many near misses with other vehicles and a few pedestrians who had no panic as they walked in and out of traffic – though Kathy was tensing up pretty good, and clutching my arm at every close call.

     We stopped at a local grocery store, bought a few snacks and made our way up the mountain in the rain and fog on winding roads with no lines, cars and buses and big trucks passing on curves, with Mario happy as he could be while Kathy dug her nails into my arm.

     We arrived at Santa Rosa Methodist Church –Iglesia Metodista Fortaleza Divina Rosa – about 6:40pm to the sound of pulsating music in the sanctuary.  We couldn’t understand a word of it, but readily recognized it as sounds of praise.  

    We ate supper – chicken, rice and beans, pineapple, tomato and watermelon. We got to know a few new friends from the team – Juan (in college), Jennifer and Rosa. 

       After unpacking our bags and preparing our beds in our home for the next few days, we had one final meeting with the team, a devotion and prayer, and our team gathered outside to pray for our week, our families and church.

     I’m typing this, at 5:45am (local time) on Sunday morning while sitting on a concrete platform outside the sanctuary with the smell and sounds of breakfast cooking surrounds me, about to get my first cup of coffee.  Breakfast is served at 7:30am this morning, before we gather for worship at 10am.

      So, for the week, we will live in a community where we are the foreigners, where we do not speak the right language, where we do not know the local customs, where we have to ask silly questions like “what do we do with the paper since we can’t put it in the toilet?” (actually, I asked that one) – and we are here, because we believe God has called us to this place – we are here so that we might learn to love more deeply –

    - and we are here, outside of our comfort zones, which is where, of course, most growth generally happens.

Costa Rica Day 2 (Sunday, July 1)

    I’m typing this around 5:50am local time (7:50am back home) – the sun comes up between 4:30am – 5:00am year round I’m told.

     Today started with breakfast at 7:30am local time (body clock still at 9:30am).  Rice and beans were part of the menu.  We had time to walk up and down the road in front of the Iglesia Metodista Fortaleza Divina Rosa.

      Sunday worship was at 10am local time.  The Methodist Church here is very Pentecostal in nature.  Watching worshipers so moved by the Spirit that they fell on the floor during Holy Communion was a new experience for each of us. 

       However, though the service was in the native Spanish tongue, a number of praise songs were familiar, that we could sing along in English.  “Lord I Lift Your Name on High” is one example.  The familiar rhythms and tunes allowed us to feel a bit more connected to the worship experience I think.

      (As I’m typing this, I’m waiting for breakfast at 6:30am, sitting outside the church.  I’m sipping my first cup of coffee as Ryan Smith, our team leader/youth counselor reads a devotional book while sitting to my right.)

      The most meaningful part of our worship for me was the moment during the lengthy praise song portion of the worship – about 1 hour, before Holy Communion and the preaching by pastor Freddy.  After singing in Spanish for the entire song, Jody, the worship leader changed to English as he sang, “He has conquered the grave, Jesus conquered the grave.”

     At this point the congregation burst out in thunderous applause!  Several, including Pastor Freddy, had been kneeling at the altar for some time at this point – and the ones at the altar and the 30 – 35 others sitting in the light brown plastic chairs cheered and cheered.

      It was as if they were standing outside the tomb when Jesus walked out!  I found myself deeply moved by that moment of unabashed, spontaneous celebration and joy, as the one who has conquered the grave was worshiped, deeply and profoundly.   And as I sat among the poor people of Santa Rosa, I could hear in their shouts and see in their faces that they knew without a doubt, that this one who had conquered the grave could conquer the tombs of their own struggles.

      The visiting teams – us and a team from Azle Christian Church in Azle Texas – left before the sermon began to have our "English devotions with Fred Curry, the American missionary and director of Rice and Beans Ministry, the group responsible for building this worship space and the adjoining dining area and kitchen.  Before we lift, Fred told the worshipers who we were, and allowed us a moment to offer a word.

      I shared with the Costa Ricans, as one of the Rice and Beans team members, KiKi translated, that we had been planning and praying about this trip for a year, and that we had been praying for the people of Costa Rica.  I told them we were honored to be living among them for a week, and thanked them for their hospitality.

      After lunch that consisted of rice and beef, cooked squash, pineapple and watermelon – we traveled up the mountain   (Mario, our driver, just stopped by to say good morning – he trying to teach me mucho Espaniol this week.  “Como esta?  Muy Bien!” I am trying, but I’m a slow learner!)

       We delivered bags in Santa Marta. A couple of our groups went very high up, too far for the bus to carry us – so we walked, walked and walked, up, up, up.  It was quite challenging physically.  We walked on roads, but they were covered in rocks and always pointed upward.  We asked one of our translators who traveled with us, how people got around who lived so high up on the mountain. He said simply “they walk.”  I began to imagine that these folks were undoubtedly in better shape than the average Westerner (at least this one!)

      Offering rice and beans, dried milk and masa (to make tortillas) filled in the bags donated and decorated by Rock Grove was a deeply meaningful experience. Every home we approached welcomed us, received our gift, and allowed us to pray for them.  We spoke to them through an interpreter, and held hands in a circle while praying.  As was the custom of the people at the church, we all prayed simultaneously.   In some cases, we were invited into homes to pray.  Some families were so grateful and welcoming, that we hated to leave them.  In more than one home we felt an instant connection of the presence of Christ that reminded us we were truly sisters and brothers.

      Some of folks brought candy for the children – my wife Kathy especially enjoyed handing out the treats to the smiling and appreciative faces.

      Our youth joined with the youth of the Texas church and the youth and young people from Costa Rica who are part of the Rice and Beans Ministry for some fellowship time during the afternoon before supper. 

       We also had time for some much needed showers.  After a supper of fish, potatoes, squash and carrots, we had evening devotions, gathered with our Rock Grove team to pray for one another and for our families and church back home – praying continually to be salt and light.   Then it was time for bed.   Exhausted, I pretty much slept like a baby!

Costa Rica Day 3 (Monday, July 2)

I got up and out around 5:30am, sipped me coffee and typed reflections of the previous day.  Breakfast was at  
6:30am – pancakes, eggs with red pepper (not hot or spicy) rice and beans, a lightly fried cake of cheese, and 
pineapple and watermelon.   I am so going to start eating pineapple with my meals when I get home!  I’ve never been a fan of pineapple, but I’ve never pineapple like this before!

Today, part of our group began digging a ditch at the church in preparation for Sunday School class.  The goal is to build a retaining wall this week.  Kathy, Nellie and I traveled back to the mountain…..up, up, up….the dirt roads to the “Plaza”, a soccer field that was part dirt, part grass, with goals that resembled football goal posts (we learned as the week progressed that each community has a plaza).

After stopping to rest several times we finally arrived at the field (hallelujah!).  We waited for about a half hour, and then they children began to trickle in, walking from the various homes in the mountains. 

While we waited, I got a soccer ball and kicked it to one child, then another, and before long we had a circle, kicking the ball to one another (the universal language of play!).  After a while, we had 25 – 30 children.  The folks from Azle Christian church had brought VBS supplies and had prepared lessons for the children – “The Lost Sheep”, we all work sheep masks!  There were a variety of games.  I even got to play baseball (I’m much better at that than soccer!) with a little boy named Jefferson.  I didn’t butcher his name like I did so many of the other children with more native names.  My attempts at repeating their names often brought giggles and laughter from the children.  I didn’t have to keep reminding them that I spoke “muy poco Espaniol .”

Kathy needed to lay down a bit because of the sun, there was little shade, and we both had probably not had as much water as we should have.  I got her some water and candy (“poppie”), wet a tissue to lay on her forehead, and after a while she was able to be with the children.   One child brought her a banana to help her feel better.  Some children brought their pictures to her to see and gave her hugs (those are some of my best pictures!)
   
We recognized a bittersweet part of this week, was that some of the families we had met the prior day when we delivered food and prayed for them, we had felt an instant connection.  And seeing them again today at VBS was like seeing old friends.   One particular family that always greeted us with beautiful smiles and soft eyes, was the one whose child gave Kathy a banana.  The sad reality hit us as we left the plaza and started our descent down the high mountain by way of the rocky road, was that these dear people who stole our hearts in an instant, had crossed our paths for just the briefest of moments.  We knew as we left, we would never see them again.  But, my oh my, how blessed we were to encounter them on a mountain in Costa Rica!

After lunch back at the Iglesia Metodista Fortaleza Divina Rosa, where we ate and slept, had devotions and worshipped, our whole team was reassembled to travel to a village to hand out more bags filled with rice and beans, dried milk, and mazzo for tortillias.  Today, we did not travel up the mountain, though we still had plenty of hills to climb in the village of San Martin.

We stopped at a local store to purchase some water. My bill for 3 waters and 2 Power aids was 3,400 colones.  I asked for the American amount, and it was $7.00.  I gave the cashier a ten dollar bill, and received a Costa Rican bill worth one thousand colones. In the village, like the day before we had our interpreters with us as we traveled to homes, shared with the people that we were in the community offering food as an expression of God’s love, and that we would be honored if they would receive it, then we prayed with them.

After supper of……spaghetti and bread (our first bread of the week), the youth played “electricity” and “jello” and “spoons” around the table with other youth from Costa Rica. The adults visited, and every now and then we could hear the sounds of laughter and shouts from the youth’s table.

Our youth injected a little Southern English into the local culture as the Costa Ricans were taught words like, “y’all” and “gotchya”, as well as “barbed wire” and “sibblings.”  After supper, we had our evening devotions, then gathered with our team to hold hands and pray for one another and for our family and friends back home.  Then it was time to call it a night.  It was about 9:00pm local time.


Costa Rica day 4 – (Tuesday, July 3)

After breakfast at 6:30am we left shortly after to head to the community we had visited the day before with bags of food to do VBS.   Today we did not travel up a great mountain, but were driven right to the site for the VBS, the “plaza”.

Every little community has a plaza, which is basically a soccer field.  Most of our youth went with us today, Ryan and Andrew stayed behind to help with the building.   When we first arrived there were some kids and a goat.   They kept their distance, and it wasn’t clear how they might welcome us.  I heard some laugher as we got off the bus.  But after we got a soccer ball out and started to kick it around, they quickly made their way to us, and the bonding began. They especially liked it when I tried to kick it behind my back, as one of them had done, and almost fell down, leaving a good bruise on my right shin!

We had a larger crowd today.  The count was about 62 children.  They just kept coming.  One of our Costan Rican team, Gretel, brought her guitar.  It was a real treat for me to play and lead the singing for the children as our youth did the motions for “Pharaoh, Pharaoh”, “Lord I Lift Your Name on High”, and “Hal-la-la-la….la-la-ley-lu-yah.  Even with the language barrier, the throng of children laughed and mimicked the motions as we sang and danced.  When we got back to the camp, members of the Rice and Beans Staff were singing “Pharaoh, Pharaoh”.  They’ve asked me to write down the words so they can use it after we’re gone.

Some of the children spoke English very well, which was very helpful.  They served as translators for us with the large crowd.  I met a woman who spoke English well, and had lived in New Jersey for some time, though she was a native Costa Rican.  It was a treat to have a lengthy conversation that wasn’t dependent on hand signals.

Some of our team played soccer with the kids – this is definitely the sport of the Costa Ricans, but our kids (and Carla) held their own…

There was the Bible story of the little lost sheep, games to play, pictures to take, crafts to make, glitter to spread and candy to hand out.  Our youth bonded quickly, and even had the chance to teach our young friends some new games. One of our youth learned an elaborate new handshake from one of the children.  I especially enjoyed the hugs and smiles!  Love indeed is the universal language!

After a great lunch back at the camp that included a dish of rice, chicken and vegetables, along with tuna and pasta, and of course beans, we made our way to a new village, called Arizona.  This area had a combination of nice homes and deep poverty.   There were many, many hills and graveled roads to climb carrying our bags filled with rice and beans, dried milk and masa for tortillas.

We saw many families with children today.  We were greeted with welcomes and smiles, we handed out food and prayed, time and time again.  We saw poorer families today, some very simple houses with dirt floors and cardboard interior walls.

We had time to rest a bit before supper.  While sitting at the church reading a bi-lingual Bible, trying to learn some Spanish, a truck road by the dirt road with a loud speaker announcing that the water would be cut off the next day – so no showers or flushing toilets for Wednesday.  We were told to stock up on water…

Our team worked to assemble crafts in preparation for the next day’s VBS.  Supper was a little earlier, around 5:30pm – it was pork, rice and beans and “salada”, a great-tasting salad of chopped tomatoes and cucumbers in vinegar.    After supper, I spent some time reading in the church sanctuary while the guitar was played by Jonathon (pronounced “yau-nathon”), who was with a new group from El Salvador that just arrived today.

We had devotions around 8:00pm local time.  Then we gathered with our Rock Grove team to assemble more bags (all of them are done now), circled, held hands, reflected on the day and prayed, then made our way to our homes around 9pm, exhausted, a very good tired and went to sleep.


Costa Rica day 5 – (Wednesday, July 4^th)

I got up at 5am, got ready and made my way to the church for coffee (great Costa Rican coffee – we brought a couple bags home) and to sit and type my reflections.  After breakfast, we made our way to Arizona for another Bible School.  We met at the Plaza in their community.  This one was quite nice –
including a simple shelter (with a baño…bathroom), that worked out well for the children’s crafts.

As always it was a treat playing and interacting with the children.  I enjoyed watching our youth play soccer with the Costa Rican children.  One little boy, David (pronounced here as Dah ‘Veed), who lives in Santa Rosa with us, has become a member of our team and family.  He speaks little English, but he is teaching our youth some Espaniol and they are teaching him some Inglaise, laughing with each other along the way.

Oh – and no hills to climb to get to the Plaza – yay! Mario, our bus driver, took us right there. Though there was a steep bank to descend to get to the plaza, and a ditch to navigate that bordered it, I’ll take that over the steep mountain climb any day….

After another good lunch, we traveled to Los Breezes to deliver bags.  Once again, the people were gracious and welcoming.  I even got a hug and a kiss at one house, and all I was doing was taking pictures of the group!

One particular family that touched my heart was “Cindy” and her two children.  They lived in a very meager house, with a dirt floor and gaping cracks in the outside wall.   I was so blessed when she invited us into her home to pray.  I told her, through our interpreter Josie, what an honor it was to be in her home to pray with her.

Cindy had such a sweet and humble spirit, I realized that she, and the poor people of Costa Rica we were encountering, had much to teach me about humility and peace, about contentment, about being satisfied with what you have – I remember Paul’s words… “I have learned to have nothing…..”  It was worth traveling 3500 miles from home, sleeping on a mattress on the floor and dealing with a few toilet challenges (the water was cut off Wednesday morning and remained cut off through the night into Thursday), taking a cold shower or two, just to have received the blessing of her humble and authentic hospitality!

After supper, we gathered for worship in the church sanctuary at Santa Rosa.

At one point in the early part of the worship, which was led in music by some new friends from El Salvador who arrived Wednesday – Jonathan and Fernando, Fred Curry, the director of Rice and Beans shared with the congregation that his son Jerry would soon be deploying, and he would not be able to see him – and Fred wasn’t ready for this.   The pastor, Freddy, was about to pray for him, and our team from Rock Grove walked up to the front of the sanctuary and laid hands of Fred while Freddy prayed for him.  

It was quite a treat and honor to be able to share the Bible story of the Good Samaritan during worship through KiKi, our interpreter.   There were moments of communication challenge when KiKi couldn’t find the right words to translate into Spanish, but it was a unique and blessed experience for me.

After sharing Luke 10:25-37, I invited our team up to join me in some singing.  As we had earlier at Bible School, we sang “Hallelujah” where the team went out among the congregation and high-fived, scratched backs, shook hands and gave hugs.  Then some of our Costa Rican friends and team members from the Azle Christian Church in Texan joined us for a rousing rendition of “Pharaoh, Pharaoh” – always a crowd favorite!

I closed by sharing the words of blessing from Ephesians 3:16-21, and then offered a word of blessing from the Book of Numbers in Spanish:"El Senior los bendiga, y los guardia. Amein" "The Lord bless you and keep you.  Amen"

My Spanish was clumsy at best, but the congregation erupted in applause and cheers, showing their appreciation for my efforts.

The worship here is very Pentecostal, very spiritual.  Overcome by their spiritual experience, some of the worshipers “fall-out” on the floor.  During worship last night, someone motioned for me to go to a man who was standing in the front during the music.  He was caught up in the Spirit and about to fall. I stood behind him, held his shoulders and back, and when it came time for him to fall, I guided him to the floor and held his head so he wouldn’t land hard.

After worship, there were hugs and words of blessing spoken.  We’d gotten pretty good with “Dios bendiga (God bless you)”.  Though much of what the members of the congregation said to us, we could not understand, their love and hospitality for us was clearly communicated.   As on the Day of Pentecost, when the Spirit of God is present, different languages pose no barrier at all.

After gathering in a circle to pray, we made our way to our waterless homes to go to bed.  It was around 8:30pm local time.

Costa Rica Day 6 – (Thursday, July 5^th)

I got up at 5am, and made my way to the church/kitchen/fellowship space to type my devotions and get a cup of coffee.  Today I met our frog.  It was as big as my hand!  I was telling Ryan about it (and of course I took a picture of it – I took over 1200 for the trip!), and he told me it was on his arm during the night.

No showers, no flushing toilets still.

After breakfast at 6:30am, we traveled to a suburb of San Isidro – a large city in our province.  We worked today with inner city kids.  It was a bit of a different experience from working with the mountain children.  It wasn’t as much fun in some respects for the group.  We found the behaviors a bit more challenging – a reminder that ministry is not always what we wish it to be, and is often a bit messy – but there were still many blessings.

In the afternoon we delivered bags in the area around the church in Santa Rosa. We were greeted warmly by most – but here we did meet our greatest resistance. Two families said “no” to our approach – one particular lady even acted angrily to our visit – a member of the Catholic Church, her negative response reflected the tension and animosity in this part of the world between Catholics and Protestants.  Interestingly enough, we are referred to, in derision as “Christians” to the Catholics.  I couldn’t understand everything she said to us, but I understood “loco” easily enough!
 
We had heard about the tensions from Fred, which are long-standing in the community.  But this was our first, first-hand experience.  We had actually approached a number of Catholic homes earlier, and had been greeted and welcomed warmly…

In the afternoon, the water came back on – and, as Fred said in the nightly devotions, sometimes the Lord blesses us by taking things away.  Sometimes we don’t appreciate the value of something until it’s taken away.

After devotions Fred took us to “Pops”, in San Isidro, a popular ice cream shop in Costa Rica.  My choice was “guanabana”, an interesting fruity, somewhat tart flavor.  After gathering for the prayer in the girl’s house for the week, we made our final preparations for our packing and trip back to San Jose on Friday morning.

    
Costa Rica Day 7 - Friday July 06, 2012

Up at 5:00am.  Today is the day we leave Santa Rosa, heading to the San Jose in preparation for our flight home on Saturday.

A sad day of goodbyes…

We had a special farewell service at the Iglesia Metodista Fortaleza Divina Rosa, our Methodist Church home for the past week.  What a privilege it was for me to join with Pastor Freddy in leading worship.  I read Scripture and prayed in English, while he led in Spanish.   Holding the cup as members of our team, and members of the local Methodist congregation dipped their saltine crackers during our service of Holy Communion was profoundly meaningful for me. 

As I shared the words “the blood of Christ shed for you” to my friends, family and neighbors from this foreign land, I was deeply moved by the sweet unity in the Body of Christ.  I found myself continually choking back tears as we celebrated the gift of true communion and community in Christ.
 
As I type this it’s midnight Costa Rica time, 2am our time.  It’s our last night before flying out Saturday at 2:30pm from the San Jose airport.   Casey and I are sitting outside the balcony on the second floor of the Backpacker “hostel” in Alajuala.  Casey wanted some late-night chicken tenders.  The bar/grill closed at midnight, so we’re out here with his second orange Fanta, just talking and watching the traffic and the activity in the park across from the hotel. 

Our hotel is not in the best part of town, so we have been a bit careful.  Tonight we had supper at the La Princessa Marino in Alajuala.  After supper, we gathered in one of our rooms to reflect on our experiences of the week, to share our feelings, to consider what we do with what we’ve experienced.

After that, several of us gathered in the fourth floor bar / grill, where the view was spectacular. We’re close enough to the San Jose airport to watch the planes land at night.  There’s a cool breeze on the outside seating area, and the city if filled with lights.  As I visited with one of the members of another team who was in low spirits in the bar (I had two drinks at the bar – Coke Lights, the Costa Rica equivalent of Diet Coke), I occasionally noticed our youth as they visited together – what a neat picture – a special experience, these youth who had shared so much together, laughing and visiting together late in the evening on a Friday night in Costa Rica.  Pretty cool stuff.  

Tomorrow, we fly home.  It’s been a great trip.  But I’m ready to be home now.


Saturday, July 07, 2012 (going home day)

     Up about 6am local time.  Got up to type some reflections and several of the group was already up.   We had breakfast around 8am, then caught the hotel shuttle in three groups at 10:20am, 10:30 and 10:40 to make it to the airport in plenty of time for our 2:30pm flight home.  I think everyone was quite ready for the trip.

      It’s been a great week, but a tiring week.  And I think we’re all ready to be reunited with family, friends and pets, and to sleep in our own familiar beds.  It’s time to go home.

      I’m sure I’ll be reflecting on the lessons learned in Costa Rica for some time.  The more than 1200 pictures will serve as a neat reminder of our days here for some time.
  
     We got to the airport in plenty of time, and had time for a little shopping and lunch after making through security.   Security was a bit more extensive here, with security personnel hand-checking our carry-on luggage just before boarding.  It was raining as we boarded flight 1706 from Costa Rica to Charlotte.  We were heading home!

      I must have been more tired than I realized, because just after take-off I drifted off to sleep as we ascended through the rain and clouds.   When I awoke, we were high above the storm in a land of white cloud castles.   I pulled out the laptop and began working on Sunday’s sermon.  I finished it right as we hit some turbulence over Cuba.

      We touched down in Charlotte at 8:41pm, waited in some long lines to get through immigration and customs before families were reunited at the terminal. It was neat to see and experience all the smiles, laughter and hugs.  We got back to Rock Grove around 11:00pm.   God had blessed us with a memorable and valuable trip….

       …..and we were safely home.

       Thanks be to God!


Grace and Peace!

Pastor Randy