Many years ago, when I was still single, I bought a piece of lakefront property in Upper Michigan. Somewhat remote, the property is on a quiet lake, without many neighbors. It’s still undeveloped, filled with trees and a few cranberries. Maybe a retirement project? Or maybe not.

In the search for the property, I told the realtor that I was looking for something isolated and “out of the way.” Something away from people. And then I acknowledged that it didn’t sound good for a pastor to want to be away from people.

“No,” she said, “You are around people all the time. You need a ‘get-away.’”

I suppose that is true. Even Jesus did that several times (Mark 6:30-32 and Luke 6:12-13, for example). A “get-away.” A place of renewal and restoration. A place of “sabbath.” A place to “sabbatical.”

So is that what sabbath and sabbatical are about? Getting away from people? (Spoiler alert – several weeks ago I noted that my reflections might show up again in my first sermon back on August 24/25 – that might just be true this week too!) Certainly that is part of the expectation. I take my sabbatical and “retreat” away from both work and community. After all, doesn’t “absence make the heart grow fonder?”

Perhaps, but maybe it’s a bit more complicated than simply “getting away.” Perhaps sabbath and sabbatical are, in fact, very connected to people, but in in a way we might not expect.

This past week we traveled – Wausau, Gladstone, Frankenmuth (MI), London (ON), Buffalo, Chicago. We left last Sunday, and returned yesterday. We hit a bunch of places, but weren’t really sightseeing. We were “people” seeing.

Here’s who we saw:

• Two aunts, one 93, the other 100, to hear family stories…

• Two colleagues and families who like us, have moved on to new calls…

• Two different close friends from years past…

• A former Bishop and his wife…

• A group of folk from Gladstone…

• The text study group we used to meet with…

• A niece and her son, whom we have not seen much over the years…

People. Important people. And relationships that are valued (at least by us!) The trip was long, and a bit tiring – we traveled seven of the eight days – yet also rewarding and renewing in its own way.

But wait – there’s more! Twice, we also had a twist in our encounters with people. Wednesday night (well, early Thursday morning), the cell phone blared out an “Amber Alert.” A two year old, and presumably her father, were missing. No, we didn’t encounter them. But I’ve wondered, not about the safety of a child (though that is a concern), but of the fractured and broken family that led to a father abducting his child. A lot has gone wrong in that family. People are really hurting!

And then Saturday evening, just before midnight, the fire alarm emptied our hotel. The building, five floors, was booked, and now guests were all over the parking lot. People – lots of them. But also people in service. A young lady (a guest) held the door open for us (and others) as we excited from the fire escape.

Then firemen arrived – four engines worth – to serve and rescue. The good news? False alarm! But they were there nonetheless.

And finally, as we re-entered the building, there was the same front desk personnel who checked us in hours earlier. When she checked us in, the phone was ringing constantly. I thought then how busy she was. Little did we know…not the night on the job she had been expecting!

So there you go – lots of people over one week, with a variety of lives, and a multitude of concerns. Lots connecting, hurting, and serving. And a high “burn out over people” potential.

Yet also the potential to be renewed. Remember? Even Jesus took time out.

Connecting with people, even good, affirming connections, can be draining. We interact, we “give and take,” and we sometimes conflict with others. All part of relationships.

And then other times we see folk in need, or in service, or just around us. That too can wear us down a bit.

Yet…Jesus took time out, Jesus went off by himself. And why? So he could come back to the community. Jesus went off in order to come back. In other words, “time out” is for the purpose of “time in.”

But wait (remember!), there’s more. This isn’t just about getting away so we can be built back up, only to be worn down again. This time of sabbath or sabbatical (for me, at least), has also been about having the time and space to see the people around me in a (re)new(ed) light.

Over the past weeks I’ve occasionally bumped into folk from Our Saviors, and I’ve treasured those moments. People I know and love, people I look forward to seeing again…soon.

However…there have been more…like those who served us when a fire alarm went off, and those who served food and drink at restaurants when we traveled…the officer who checked out our passports as we re-entered the country from Canada…friends and family whom we visited…and even a child and father on the run (and perhaps a mother in distress?)

Some warm and fuzzy stories, others not quite, but all people, whose lives have intersected mine. Part of sabbatical, part of my “sabbath” has been to see those folk as gifts of God. And that alone is renewing.

So, over the next few weeks I’ll continue with my projects, and get a bit more reading done. Maybe even another nap or two. I’ll return then, refreshed, and ready to engage in ministry, and encounter a wide variety of lives – broken and troubled, energetic and enthused, growing and seeking, and maybe a few lives at a pivotal moment in their journey. Those encounters may drain me a bit, but I’ve had this time to get ready, to be renewed.

But most of all, I’ve had this time to be reminded of the gift that each one is to me. And that makes for a really deep, profound, and meaningful “sabbatical!”

So, tell me – what do rain, presidential politics, and bittersweet family gatherings have in common? I’ll tell you in a moment.

First, what an odd week. I’m looking ahead to being out of town next week, and this week, well, wasn’t quite what I though it would be. At the beginning of the week, hot and dry. Instead…how about some of those storms? Like the seemingly endless rumble of thunder on Thursday evening into Friday morning. And did you see how quickly the black clouds rolled in earlier today (Saturday)? And then…twice today the street lights went on – once at 9:30 AM, and then again at 12:30 PM. That’s odd! Not to mention all the rain this week. At least I didn’t have to water the lawn like I thought I would, especially when I’d be gone for the week that follows.

Odd too, the book I read this week. For Labor, Race, and Liberty, by Bruce Mouser. It’s the story of George Edwin Taylor. Taylor ran for president in 1904, losing (really big) to Teddy Roosevelt. To be fair, Taylor was primarily a write in candidate as his small party couldn’t get on the ballot in most states. Still, he ran the race, and the story, while perhaps not all that riveting, is still intriguing.

Of course, it’s not really his campaign that is all that interesting. Small time candidates are hardly significant stories. But Taylor’s is, and for two reasons. First, Taylor was the first African-American to run for president on a party ticket. (Another African-American also ran that year on another ticket, but pulled in fewer votes than Taylor.) Taylor collected only 2,000 votes, but for the first time one who had been born a slave ran for president. Barak Obama may have been the first African-American president, but long before that, Taylor gave it a shot!

But there’s another reason the Taylor story is significant. Taylor got his start in politics in La Crosse, which made sense since he grew up in…West Salem! Taylor spent a number of years as a foster child of Nathan Smith, and grew up on Nathan Hill. Did Obama’s presidency have its roots in West Salem?

Yeah, I know that’s quite a stretch, but it is kind of fun to wonder…

Meanwhile, we are prepared to leave town on something of a bittersweet trip. We are heading to Wausau, Gladstone, Frankenmuth, Buffalo, Chicago, and home. Along the way we will connect with some old friends and colleagues, hit a few wineries, and buy some Mackinac Island fudge.

But most of all, we will visit with two aunts, and connect again with my brother’s family. All of which makes this a bit of a bittersweet trip. The two aunts, my mother’s sister (100 years old), and my Dad’s sister (90) are both wonderful aunts, and both are still pretty sharp. I’m going to take some time to listen to (and record) stories of family, stories that could be lost – and I don’t want to lose them. That’s exciting, but recognizing that the generations are changing is, well, bittersweet. I treasure the stories and memories, but also lament that the times, they are a changin’!

The visit with aunts, however, has been planned for a while. Thought about that a year ago already. But the visit with my niece and nephew, that was not. It was supposed to be a time to visit with my brother, the one who died Easter morning. Bittersweet – I am excited to see Alicia and Michael, and their families. I just wish brother Mike was there too. Bittersweet!

So back to my opening question – what do rain, presidential politics, and bittersweet family gatherings have in common? Nothing, really. It was a trick question!

Or not. Maybe it’s not a trick question. The answer might be bit “tricky”: they have nothing in common, except they are a part of my world these days. And while that might not seem very significant, it really is. It’s significant because life is usually like that – the collection of a number of things that have little in common, except that they are a part of my (or your) daily life. Day in and day out things that have nothing in common come together to make my day. That’s the rhythm of life, the mystery and sometimes confusion of how our lives unfold.

But that also is the wonder and marvel of life – that God brings together so many seemingly disparate and disconnected pieces, yet weaves them into one existence – into the fabric of my day. Things that having nothing in common other than me…and the God who holds all things in his embrace.

And so the rain, the story of George Taylor, the bittersweet family gatherings all came together this week- along with the anticipation of travels and visits, fixing my mother’s flat tire, worshiping at Prince of Peace (La Crescent), and even a brief moment off of sabbatical to chat with a representative from Wartburg Seminary – all part of my world, and all in the embrace of a loving and caring God.

So that’s my world for this week – how about you? How did God bring together pieces that seem to be random and disconnected into the fabric of your life? And how did you experience God’s embrace in the midst of all those pieces? I know I’m on sabbatical, but if you have anything you’d like to share about God’s work in your life this past week, I’d love to hear it.

For now, I’m thankful that my life (and yours) is full and rich. And I’m thankful that even though I don’t always get it, my life includes so many different pieces. But most of all, I’m thankful that all the pieces are held together by a good and loving God.

And on and on…my sabbatical rolls on!

In case you are wondering, I return to the office for half days on Monday, August 19, and I’ll be preaching the following weekend, August 24-25. Yes, I’ve got the dates down pat – in fact, I’m already pondering that sermon. More on that in a moment.

For now, the sabbatical rhythm is pretty set. I’ve continued to read (more on that too in a moment), and I’ve worked on pictures from our Germany trip. I’ve never worked with “RAW” format photos, so it’s been slow, learning a new program that is really slow on my 5 year old desktop (Pastor Jean insists I get a new one, but I’m holding out – new processor chips from AMD have just been released – I’ll wait until they are available) She also says that several have asked if we will do a “Germany trip show” – I’ve got a couple of ideas, so I’m editing photos with that in the back of my mind. Oh, and I’ve had some conversations with Tim Bowman, our former interim youth director, who will be ordained (yeah!) in Minnesota on August 24. Tim has asked me to preach at his ordination (I’m pondering that sermon too).

And in the midst of all that, I’ve done a few things around the house, and Rebecca and I have done some (not enough) bike riding and some (not enough) fishing. Bored, I am not!

This past week did have one unusual thing…Pastor Jean and the Congregation Council met…and I stayed home. That was interesting – fascinating – a bit weird – refreshing – all for reasons that I think I’m going to save for my sermon the first week back. But I promise – I won’t give you a summer’s worth of stuff in one very long winded sermon!

Back to this week…one of the rhythms that I have really appreciated is the reading I’ve done. This week…Red Fortress: History and Illusion in the Kremlin, by Catherine Merridale. The book fascinated me because of Rebecca’s Russian background. Moreover, we toured the Kremlin 17 years ago when we traveled to Russia. It’s not what I thought it would be! I always imagined a building. Actually, it’s a compound, a fortress with several cathedrals, office buildings, and museums. And it really is a fascinating place!

Merridale explores the history of the Kremlin and how it was interpreted and then re-interpreted, first by the Tsars, and then by the Soviet leadership. She notes that the Kremlin became of symbol of both the Russian nation and its soul, and as such its importance far exceeded its value as a building or even a series of buildings. That power of symbol lead to great destruction of artifacts as subsequent generations kept of the old what fit their narrative and the illusion they wanted to present to the nation. Yet, at the same time that deep tie kept the Kremlin relevant even in times in Russian history when it wasn’t at the center of national life. In the end, Merridale’s work is a reminder of how all cultures and societies see their history through their own priorities, keeping and treasuring that which speaks to them, and discarding that which doesn’t fit their view of the world. Some (like the Tsars and the Soviets) work extra hard to create an illusion, seeking to rewrite history. But all societies see their history through a lens of some sort.

But again this week it’s not the book I read that really piqued my interest and got me thinking – this time it was an article in the Tribune. The article reported on a study that showed that fewer and fewer Americans turn to the church and clergy for advice. In some respects that is disappointing. Another example how the church and religious leaders are more and more on the fringe of our culture. Where once the church (and the pastor) was at the center of the community, today, well, just ain’t so!

But on the other hand…really, do you think I have a lot to offer when you are trying to decide between a Ford and Chevy pickup?

Seriously, that study does reflect some of what Merridale discussed in Red Fortress. She noted how with the fall of the Romanov dynasty in 1917 and the coming into power of the Communists, the church and the priests weren’t just bypassed, they were decimated – thousands of priests were executed and the churches were destroyed. No asking them for advice on pickups!

Yet, the church in Russia survived. When we traveled there, Natasha, our hostess, took us to see her church, made of wood (including the onion dome), and nestled in the birch forest. We asked how the faith stayed alive during the communist years. “We met in my grandmother’s living room,” she said. And no one wanted advice on pickups.

So maybe it’s not all that bad that people don’t come to me for advice. Maybe I’m not here to give advice. I’m here to proclaim good news, and not just any good news – the good news of Jesus Christ! The good news that even in the darkest of times (like the communist years in Russia, or just those moments when we feel our own little corner of the world spinning out of our control) that God is still at work in our lives, that God is still holding us close, and that God is still sending us out do “God’s work with our hands.” Which (spoiler alert) is where I think my sermon on August 24-25 will be going.

On the 25^th anniversary of my ordination, back in 2011, Pastor Jean surprised me, showing up at my church instead of hers, with lots invited guests (that I knew nothing about), including the Bishop, folk from my previous congregations, and my senior pastor in my first call. Rudy preached, and reminded us that the pastor’s first and foremost duty is to preach the word and administer the sacraments. Or, to put it another way, to use both spoken and visible words to proclaim the life changing power of the gospel of Jesus Christ!

That is my job, my calling, and my passion (I hope!) That doesn’t mean I’m not here to help you sort through life’s challenges. I’m probably not the best at figuring out which pickup to buy, but if that’s what is really troubling you, I’ll chat with you. Or if it’s some other conundrum that keeps you awake at night – we’re here.

Just know that we (I and Pastor Jean) are really here to help you see where God is at work in your life, and where you and your gifts fit in God’s mission. Not with THE answer, but with time together, conversation, reflection, and prayer.

So, whenever you need to chat, really, call me. But not yet – I’m still on sabbatical. Call Pastor Jean.

But after August 19, I’m all ears, with maybe a few words, and even a prayer or two!

Following the plan…or “livin’ the dream?”

But first, a pop quiz – do they have a Fourth of July in England? Answer in a moment.

This past weekend family – siblings from Illinois, Minnesota, California, and Alaska – gathered to chat, reconnect, and enjoy the gift of family. Sadly, we also remembered my brother from New York who died earlier this year. While we missed him, we shared memories, and I am grateful for the expressions of sympathy and support that we have received over the past few months. Thank you!

This week also brought the Fourth of July. So, the answer? Of course they have a “fourth of July” in England, just like they have a “third” and “fifth” of July. They just don’t celebrate! (Ha-ha!)

OK, so that’s a 3^rd grade joke. But this week I did read Independence Lost: Lives on the Edge of the American Revolution, by Kathleen DuVal.

DuVal’s book examines the impact of the Revolution in the Gulf Coast region – from Florida to New Orleans, and up the Mississippi River. She looks at how American, British, French, Spanish, and Indians all made choices based on their best interest. She considers how that led to shifting alliances, where one’s enemy might later become one’s ally, and how decisions sometimes paid off, and other times did not. In the end, there were many who celebrated new freedoms, and others who lost greatly in the struggle, especially Indians, who tried to create a nation of their own, but couldn’t quite overcome the same challenges facing the colonies (give up some freedom for the stability of a strong central government), and who in the end were forced to move west to what is now Oklahoma. Not one of our better moments as a nation!

Although I don’t agree with all of her conclusions (for example, she takes Georgian colonists to task for indiscriminate killing of Creek Indians – as well she should – but glosses over similar actions by tribes against white settlers), nevertheless, the book is a fascinating exploration of a part of our history that gets lost behind Bunker Hill, Valley Forge, and Yorktown. Moreover, as DuVal writes, she does a remarkable job of weaving stories of real people in the midst of the narrative of states, nations, and empires. It was worth reading!

But as the week wore on, it was not the reading that stuck with me the most. Early in the week I came across an article in Christian Century, a journal I receive. The article, “Letting Go of the Plan and Embracing the Dream,” by Debie Thomas, hit home, in part because its what I’ve pondered for many years. Thomas argues that the idea that God has a plan for you misses badly in the context of both faith and real life. She proposes, instead, that we think of God’s “dream.”

Here’s the problem: suppose God has a plan for my life. I go to Ace Hardware, then to Hansen’s. At Hansen’s I run into someone who is struggling, and I am able to make a difference in their life. See? It was God’s plan that I go to Hansen’s after Ace. I did exactly what God’s plan called for.

But does that make me a mere puppet in God’s hands – God pulls the strings and I act?

And does that mean that if I had walked in on an armed robbery and was killed by a criminal’s bullet, that God is at work in my killing, because it is part of the “plan?”

Or…consider next week, I go to Subway first, then to Hansen’s, and the stop off at Ace. Nothing happens. I’m fine, but I didn’t make a difference in someone’s life. Did I miss something? Maybe I should have done Ace-Subway-Hansen’s or…something else?

To imagine that God has a plan either requires me to see myself as a puppet and whatever happens, happens, or it puts the pressure on me to make the right choices. Because if I don’t…oops!

Thomas proposes something else, something she calls “more tender, riskier, more fragile.”

She says, “I believe that human freedom isn’t an illusion; it’s the real deal. God works with the free choices we make in the free universe we live in. God dreams for us, hopes with us, and grieves with us in real time. God works in subtle, mysterious ways, always and everywhere, to redeem us without violating our freedom.”

She goes on to suggest that:

“A plan-less God doesn’t predetermine our days and nights. God walks into them with us, hoping, dreaming, and engaging with us in all the messy, complicated situations we face as vulnerable human beings. God doesn’t hover over creation with a giant planner, ticking off events as they occur; God experiences reality on the ground, just as we do. Determined to accompany us, God rounds every bend in the road, gasping at each glorious landscape, celebrating every mile we conquer, mourning the weary aches and broken ankles we suffer along the way, and working at every instant to birth fresh possibility and goodness into the lives we shape.”

I like that. I like it because that’s what I have experienced. God endows me with lots of abilities, talents, and what we call “spiritual gifts.” God then sets me loose, and calls me to be a wise steward of what I have, to use it well as a faithful disciple of Jesus. In essence, God says to me, “Go ahead, surprise me!”

I move forward into the world, not as a puppet, and not in fear, but in confidence that God has sent me forth. I’m not acting out a preconceived plan, but “livin’ the dream,” and doing with God at my side. God’s embrace guides me, yes, and empowers me, certainly, but also comforts and renews me when I stumble, when my path turns out to be a lot more rocky than I thought.

And not just me – but “we,” as a community of faith, as a congregation. Maybe we too might think of “livin’ the dream,” with God by our side, instead of trying to figure out some imagined cosmic plan for us as a congregation.

Perhaps then, for me and for you, and for us as a congregation, as we I walk in God’s embrace, “livin’ the dream,” we might also discover an incredible new depth to prayer.

Thompson puts it this way: “Prayer can cease to function as a talisman, warding off misfortune and punishment, and become instead an intimate conversation between lover and beloved.”

To be fully engaged, not just as citizens or even as church folk, but rather as beloved children of God and disciples of Jesus. To be in a deep relationship with a caring and loving God, and to engage that relationship through the simple gift of prayer. And then to discover that as we pray, we are enveloped by God’s gift of life and hope.

That is the independence promised and delivered through the cross of Jesus, the grace of God, and the presence of the Holy Spirit. The gift of the fullness of life.

And yes, they have that in England too!

Jet lag- the bane of every overseas (or at least long distance) traveler! We’ve been in it this past week since our return from Germany, trying to “reset” our internal clock by seven hours. It’s made for a bunch of really early mornings!

But jet lag isn’t just for weary travelers. This morning I saw on CNN a story about the challenges of farmers throughout the Midwest as they struggle with one of the wettest 12 months in history. The story included a picture of a farm in Illinois. Curious, I checked out the town on Googlemaps, and noted a Lutheran church. Still more curious, I checked out their web site, including their current newsletter. September, 2016. Now, there’s jet lag!

It is tempting, sometimes, to stop the clock for a moment, and stay where we are. Maybe September of 2016 was a good month for them. The council reported a new toilet in the parsonage. Maybe that was worth hanging on to for a while. Maybe jet lag isn’t so bad after all!

Time, however, doesn’t stop. It keeps moving. Kind of like a river.

I’ve been reading another book this week – Old Man River: The Mississippi River in North American History, by Paul Schneider. Like the first book I read, 1491, Old Man River spends a significant amount of time on the history of the Mississippi basin well before European contact and presence. Lots of Native American culture and life around the river!

But Schneider also focuses much of his time on the basin, not just the river. Schneider asserts (rightly, I think), that the history of the Mississippi needs to include the history of the tributaries, of all the waters that eventually gather in the river. He points out, for example, that from St Louis, where the rivers come together, the Missouri is longer back to its headwaters than the Mississippi is to its headwaters. Really, then, the waters of the Missouri travel farther than the Mississippi. Or the Ohio River, where it joins the Mississippi, is wider and much larger looking. And while the Wisconsin or even the La Crosse Rivers are not as mighty, they too contribute to the whole. His story then, spans the continent, from areas out west all the way to the Allegheny River in Pennsylvania.

And as he tells the story he occasionally includes a reflection of his own experience of the river(s) and the wonder of the flowing water.

Which brings me to my point and the connection with jet lag. Schneider notes that rivers are always moving. The water in front of you is gone, flowing downstream. I love lakes, especially up north. Lakes, however, even when they have some flow of water, are more collections of water than a flow of water. For example, experts say that if the inflow of all waters into Lake Superior ended, it would still take over 200 years for the lake to be emptied.

But if you dammed the Mississippi at Winona, and halted the Black and La Crosse rivers, how long would I take for the river bed in front of La Crosse to go dry? The water is moving, and it’s not stopping!

And yet, that is the wonder of the river. The movement of the water gives the river its life. Wildlife and plant life to be sure. And of course, it also gives life to the traffic of the river. There are several reasons why New Orleans grew as a port, not the least of which is that grain and other goods could flow down the river. That river waters flow makes the river of immense value and gives it a purpose – gives it life!

But the movement of the water, at least for a “delta” river like the Mississippi, also grows the river. Experts say that the Mississippi delta in Louisiana grows every year, but also that the bottom of the river drops by a centimeter every year as well. All because the movement of the river water brings silt from upstream to downstream. Even floods do that – dropping new soil on the old land.

The river moves, never stopping, always alive and always changing.

Just like time. I’d like, sometimes, to stop the clock. To just stay where I am for a moment. To relish the spot I’m in. To some extent, I need to do that. I need to “stop and smell the roses.” But I can’t stay there. Time, like a river (to use words sung by Alan Parsons, Michael Johnson, and probably a host of other musicians) keeps flowing by. Trying to stay in one spot, trying to keep time from moving, that’s were my jet lag really comes in!

I’m finding that true as I reflect on church life from a distance. Both “Forward: Fearless and Faithful” (FFF) and “Stewardship for all Seasons” (SAS) are cruising along during these summer months. I’m grateful to both teams, and to Pastor Jean who is working with them. They are making great progress (I hear), and without me. That’s one of the benefits of a sabbatical – congregations and pastor learning that ministry is not about the pastor doing it all – it’s about God’s people at work together!

Both FFF and SAS are about movement and motion. They aren’t taking us back in time, but instead, like the lively river, they are moving ahead, embracing the change, and growing. And discovering new things. Good thing too, because one of my favorite passages in Scripture is Revelation 21:5 – God speaks and says, “I make all things new!” Faithful congregational life is always about new things, new things because God is at work in us.

That’s the promise of the river, the river of life, the river of new life. Not “Old Man River,” but the river of God’s grace flowing from the crucified and risen Jesus. We move forward, or maybe better, we allow the current to move us forward, because we have confidence in God’s work within us. Yes, deep down inside I’d like to go back to days of greater certainty, when churches were packed and everyone wanted to be a part of the community of faith. But I can’t dwell there. To stay there is to embrace “jet lag” and become stagnant.

Instead, the river, the flow carry me – carry us – along, as we live faithfully. Not stuck in the “good old days,” or even in September of 2016 (with a fabulous new toilet!) But rather, to where there is life and the renewal of life.

Watching from the distance of my sabbatical I’m seeing that in some new ways. Seeing it in the work of FFF and SAS, in the life of the congregation that I miss and look forward to rejoining at the end of the summer, and maybe too, seeing it just a bit in me.

No jet lag, just life moving on, renewing and refreshing!

We’re home! Late this afternoon we returned from Minneapolis, after flying in from Germany, via Iceland, Friday evening. As Rebecca said over dinner, “It’s really great to be home!”

Still, we had a great trip, and looking back – and looking forward, I’ve got some observations to share…

Thumbs up for the tour. Well run and well organized. An energetic tour guide, and a driver who even got an ovation at one point for his ability to bring a tour bus through a very tight squeeze.

Thumbs up for the people who traveled with us in our tour group, including several from Wisconsin. Mostly older couples, but a few families. Rebecca was still, however, the youngest in the group.

Thumbs up for German breads – I loved them! And the pastries too, especially the “schneeballen” (snowballs). Ask Pastor Jean or Rebecca about them.

Thumbs down for soft drinks in Germany. Yeah, Coke is everywhere, and easily available, but seriously? $3.50 for 7 ounces? In some spots a beer (a really good German beer), was cheaper!

Thumbs up for some basics of German cuisine – the sauerbraten was excellent, and the Nuremberg brats were really tasty. Pretzels were everywhere.

Thumbs down for the chicken. Two four star hotels restaurants took a shot at it, and while it was OK, it was, well, just OK. I think I do better chicken than they do.

Thumbs up for the variety of churches in Germany. From the huge cathedral in Cologne, to the intimate chapel at Hofner Sturgen. From the ornate building at Birnau to the simplicity of Heidelberg. From the Lutheran history at the two churches in Wittenberg, to the WWII history of the bombed out ruins of the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church in Berlin. Good stuff!

Thumbs up for the beauty of the Alps and the lushness of the forests, especially the Black Forest. Nice rivers too, especially as we took a cruise on the Rhine River.

Thumbs up to Germany for its efforts in clean, renewable energy, especially solar. Solar panels were on buildings everywhere, and we saw numerous “solar farms,” fields filled with solar panels. Saw a number of wind turbines too.

Thumbs down to Germany for smoking. Lots of folk smoke, and while there are designated areas for smoking, its still a significant nuisance. Even Rebecca wondered sometimes what risks she was in due to second hand smoke. I know it’s a major addiction, and I feel for those who have trouble breaking the habit. But returning to the US, I appreciated the “no smoking” signs.

Thumbs up for general cleanliness and safety. We felt save in our walks, even in the heart of Dresden at 10:30 PM (the place was busy with outdoor cafes).

Thumbs down for pay toilets in public. You better have some cash, or learn to hold it!

Thumbs up for the German trains. Not quite as precisely on time as we sometimes imagine, and there was confusion as to where to board the train on our first ride (station staff gave us two different answers), but the trains were clean, smooth and efficient.

Thumbs up for the first three flights we took with Icelandair – Minneapolis to Reykevik (Iceland), then to Frankfurt. Decent service, on time, and less expensive. Keflavik Airport is nice, but crowded – still, we went to Iceland, if even just the airport!

Thumbs down for our fourth flight, a six hour trip back to Minneapolis, arriving at 6:30 PM. We began in Frankfurt, at about 7 AM (midnight Central Time). A tech issue at the airport in Reykjavik delayed the last 20 passengers from boarding, so we left about 40 minutes late. Then a medical emergency (not us) as we landed kept us from de-planing for another 30 minutes. All on top of being really tired!

Thumbs up for the medical personnel who responded to the medical emergency. Don’t know who they are, or who they treated, but they were there. So, tired and cranky as we were, we appreciated their work.

Thumbs ups for the hotels we stayed at, especially in Oberammergau and at Hofner Sturgen. Both were chalet style buildings. In Oberammergau we had a room with a loft, and a small porch overlooking the river. At Hofner Sturgen we got a two room suite, with a porch overlooking the small complex of shops.

Thumbs down for the hotel we stayed in the first and last nights (in Frankfurt). Not too bad, but Rebecca’s bed was set up in the hallway, just barely allowing the bathroom door to open. And the room’s AC didn’t work the second time were there (they did move us to another room).

And finally, thumbs up for my travel companions – I love traveling with Pastor Jean and Rebecca, and we had a great time!

So there you go – 13 ups, and only 6 downs. Pretty good. I guess that’s why it was a good trip.

13-6 – sounds a bit like life too. There are downs in life, things that we don’t like, things that don’t work well, disappointments, even tragedies. But in the end, the ups usually outnumber and outweigh the downs. Makes for a good life.

But what if…what if the downs ruled? What if there were precious few, or even no thumbs up. For a trip, that’s a recipe for a disaster. A waste of time and money. The trip has to be a positive or there is no reason to travel.

Life, however, doesn’t give me a choice. I get what I get. And sometimes it really does seem like the downs are way ahead of the ups.

Yet there is always one “thumbs up” that towers over all the rest, and even over the “thumbs down.” You probably can figure this one out – the one “thumbs up” that rules, is Jesus.

There will always be days, or even weeks, where the downs far exceed the ups. I know – I’ve been there. But I also know that there is something bigger going on. There is Jesus. Despite all the downs, and even, frankly, regardless of all the ups that seem so important at the time, the real center of life and living is Jesus. Jesus, the crucified and risen one who holds me even when the downs are pulling me further and further down.

On Friday morning, as we were finishing breakfast, another family of six was leaving for the airport. They had all their bags packed on the airport shuttle when, in almost the blink of an eye, someone swiped one of the bags, the one with passports, credit cards, and a valuable camera. Big “thumbs down” there!

Yet, throughout our trip, no one was hurt or ill, and no one got lost. Yes, you can chalk all of this up to good (or bad) luck. I prefer to celebrate that while things were lost, and costs were incurred, Jesus still held us in his care. I know that’s easy for me to say since it wasn’t my bag that was swiped, but I’ve been there – I’ve had lots of “thumbs down.”

But I’ve also had the experience of the big “thumbs up” – Jesus. And not just to get me through an occasional bad day. I’ve had Jesus, renewing and restoring my life even in difficult moments.

So count them up – count up your “thumbs up” and your “thumbs down.” But remember, regardless of the score, you’ve go the big “thumbs up.” You have Jesus.

Or rather, Jesus has you!

Well, sabbatical continues, and we are now in Germany. Our tour is about halfway finished as we travel with about 40 folk from around the States and Canada.  As I write this we are in the city of Nuremberg, having had dinner at Bratwurst Roslein, a centuries old establishment in the heart of Nuremberg’s old city. So far on our tour we have enjoyed a number of special spots.

• A cruise on the Rhine River, seeing a number of castles on the hills overlooking the water.

• A visit to the Cologne Cathedral, heavily damaged during WW 2, but rebuilt. Huge and overwhelming (30 times the size of Our Savior’s, and the towers make it’s facade the largest of any church in the world!)

• A tour of Berlin, including the remains of the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, and a visit to “Checkpoint Charlie,” the border crossing between East and West Berlin during the Cold War. More on that in a moment

• A trip to Wittenberg, the home of Martin Luther, including a stop at both the Castle Church and the Town Church (more on that too in a moment).

• An afternoon and evening in Dresden, touring two more churches damaged and rebuilt (including 259 steps to the top of one of the towers!), and walking around the old town square.

• Stopping for an ice cream and walking tour of the old town of Bayreuth.

We head out tomorrow (Sunday) for Rothenberg, Munich, and beyond. More to come!

As we travel we have enjoyed the cultural and historical spots we have visited, but also pondered a number of things.

Germany, of course, was once and twice an enemy. An enemy in two world wars, especially the Nazi era, but then also East Germany was a communist state. Walking the streets of Berlin, where Hitler strolled, is chilling. Visiting the Kaiser Wilhelm Church, now literally a shell of itself, is a sobering reminder of war, violence and faith, but also how faithful living can be distorted by politics. Historically, faith rarely shapes power. Power co-opts faith. While people of faith like Dietrich Bonhoeffer stood against the Nazi’s, many “faithful” church people went along for the ride. And so, along with the churches, we also stopped by the Holocaust Memorial. People – millions of people – died at the hands of the Nazi’s. Always remember, and…never forget!

But we also pondered the transition from communist to a reunited Germany. Visiting Checkpoint Charlie reminded us of those days when part of Germany was closed off and dark. Dresden had been a part of that too, and our tour guide noted that after the reunification in 1991 it took a number of years for life to revive. In the first years the city remained rather dreary. But now? At 10:30 Friday evening I walked from the hotel to the old town square to get a night time picture of the cathedral. The place was hopping – more life going on than earlier in the day as beer gardens and restaurants were filled with people enjoying the evening. Is that life is about? No, not really, but it is a sign of a community no longer under a dark cloud and held in an iron grip. There is life and energy in Dresden, something that was lacking during the communist years.

So, a thought to ponder…enemies more than once, yet today allies. Are there others (nations, or people in our lives) who we might consider enemies, but who will in time be our friends? If that happened before, can it happen again, and can we be a part of making it happen?

But, back to our trip. The biggest treat so far (besides really good beer and ice cream!), was the run down to Wittenberg, by ourselves, on our free day. Thanks to Jeff Haldeman’s insights, we made it around Berlin, to the train, and then to Wittenberg…and back again…all on our own! There, in Wittenberg we toured the home of Martin Luther and Philip Melancthon (Luther’s colleague). Interesting to walk in the space they walked in!

We also toured the Town Church, where Luther was the pastor, where he preached and led worship, where people came to be married, baptize their children, and in time, to be buried. We walked the cobblestone streets he walked. All that was really special.

But then…we walked down to the other end of town, to the Castle Church. Martin Luther never preached at the Castle Church (the Town Church was his congregation). He is, however, buried there, and it is at the Castle Church that Luther nailed the 95 Theses to the church door. That door is long gone, destroyed in a fire, and replaced in 1858 with bronze doors that are inscribed with the Theses. We didn’t go there for the Theses, however. We went to worship. Seems they have an English service on Thursdays at 3 PM. It was Thursday, and so we went. We eagerly embraced the opportunity to sing “A Mighty Fortress” in the Castle Church.

A small group of 25 or so voices gathered, with folk from the US, Europe, and even Singapore. Small, but potent, as we sang with gusto in a building with awesome acoustics! The pastor for this week (they have volunteers from the US), invited one of us to read the lesson, and so I got to do that. I got to read the lesson in the church where the Reformation started, about 25 feet from Luther’s grave! How cool is that! (By the way, if you go to www.wittenbergenglishministry.com, then stroll down to their Facebook link – on the Facebook page go to timeline photos, and then the shots for June 13 – there I am, and in another shot, all three of us are joining in song.

Of course, there is a great takeaway – being a part of leading worship in this very important space. What a thrill, what an honor.

But more…remember what I said before about enemies? Wittenberg was in East Germany, where not just church, but faith was persecuted. And Nazi Germany – where faith was perverted to serve hatred. To proclaim the gospel message (Romans 8:12-28) in a place that was once Nazi, then communist – how does the hymn phrase it…”God’s Word forever shall abide!”

So, as we continue our journey, not just through Germany, but when we return home, I hold that thought. Times are challenging for the church, and for the faithful. But not for God. God is in no trouble, and neither are we when we remember that the church, the mission and ministry, and in the end, we ourselves, belong to God. And God’s Word (not the Bible, but Jesus) shall abide!

How cool is that?

Two weeks in on my sabbatical, and I’m doing well – and Pastor Jean is surviving all by herself. Don’t feel too bad for her – next year it will be my turn!

Last week I noted that I’m missing people. Yep – I am! During the past week, at June Dairy Days, and just around town, I’ve run into some of you, and those moments have been highlights. I knew it to be true – now I’m experiencing it – our life as a congregation really is about relationships! Thank you for being a part of the relationships that make Our Savior’s what it is.

So, what was the last week like? Worship at Our Redeemer (La Crosse) – and even there running into people with connections to Our Savior’s. I’ve also completed some projects around the house, and prepared for our trip to Germany (we leave Sunday after Pastor Jean is done with worship).

And I’ve read. Another book off my list – this time, “The Good War” – An Oral History of World War Two, by Studs Terkel (New York: Pantheon Books, 1984). OK, its a bit old, but precious. Terkel writes very little in the 589 pages. Probably (and this is no exaggeration) 98-99% of the book are the verbatim recollections by a wide variety of people on their experiences in WW 2, and shared in 1984. That makes this valuable primary source material. While a few of the voices are famous folk (an admiral, politician, even an “Andrew” sister), the vast majority are little people, simple folk. Soldiers, but also a number of civilians (even a couple of preachers!) Most of the 120 interviewed are Americans, but there are also Germans, Japanese, Russians, British and French in the pages. All sharing their story, from a variety of perspectives.

Three things stood out for me as I read. First, forget Hollywood and John Wayne. War really is hell, and for those who fought, there is no desire to return. Period. Yes, a war had to be fought, but there is no joy, no romantic heroism in killing, even one’s enemies.

Which brings me to point two – American, Russian, German, Japanese – all shared in their humanity. All of them spoke of looking at the faces of deceased (or still living) enemies, and then realizing that all believed in the rightness of their cause, and left behind families and loved ones. Political systems and leaders take nations to war, fought by ordinary folk, who are all human beings with real lives. And, we would say, loved by a real God. Both sides heard of the “evil” of the enemy, only to discover that face to face, we are more alike than we thought.

And third, those who were on the front lines, in battle, taking life-and-death risks, when the moment came, didn’t do it out of patriotism or any sense of heroic drama. They did what they had to do because of the bond they had with the soldiers by their side. For their comrade they will risk death. They would fight and even die for the relationships they had. (See, it’s relationship again!)

Finally, I’d like to share several lines from the book that I found profound or insightful. I’ve copied them below, with a brief introduction. Following each quote is the page it is found on.

Timuel Black, an African-American soldier experienced intense racism within the US Army. He pondered staying in France after the war, but decided to return. He said:

“We’re coming up the Hudson River. You could see the shore. The white soldiers up on deck said, ‘There she is!’ They’re talking about the Stature of Liberty. There’s a great outburst. I’m down below and I’m sayin’, Hell, I’m not goin’ up there. Damn that. All of a sudden, I found myself with tears, cryin’ and saying the same thing they were saying. Glad to be home, proud of my country, as irregular as it is. Determined that it could be better.” (p. 282)

Dr. Alex Shulman was a surgeon with the US Army at the time of the Battle of the Bulge. A young German soldier, cut off from his outfit, and hiding out for several weeks, was captured. He had a head wound that had become very dirty and needed to be cleaned out. He broke into tears. Shulman could speak a little German. He recalled,

“I said, ‘What are you crying about?’ He said, ‘They told me I’d be killed. And here you are, an American officer, washing my hands and face and my hair.’ I reminded him that I was a Jewish doctor, so he would get the full impact of it.” (p. 283)

Jacques Raboud was in the French resistance, and later became a priest. Reflecting on the horror of Hitler and the Nazis, he was asked, “Is this uniquely German?

“This is human. It happened before. The Spanish, in the Inquisition, under God, destroyed an entire population. What about the Albigenses? [My note – a heretical sect in France, wiped out in the 13^th century, with an estimated death toll of 200,000 to one million.] It can happen again. We are all good people, but if we are led a little too far, we are going to believe everything we are told. We are ordinary people, who also can be weapons for evil Hitlers.” (p. 422)

Galina Alexeyeva fought as a teenage girl in the battle of Stalingrad, a devastating battle, and the victory that began to turn the war against Hitler. The city was virtually wiped out. She says,

“I saw prisoners of war in Stalingrad and later along the road. I felt sorry for them. Whose sons are these? What was wrong with your life. Why did you come here. What is there which we don’t have on our planet? We have rivers, fields. As a former soldier, who saw thousands of deaths, I don’t want any war repeated. Peace and war is not a cowboy movie. Don’t play around with it.” (p. 456)

Lots of other good observations in the book, including from both German and Japanese survivors of the war, but these are some that jumped out at me. The book is worth a read, especially if you can appreciate the breadth of the war-time experience (including a few gruesome descriptions), and you are OK with a bit of “salty” language. Each “voice” is it’s own unit, so while some of the units are up to ten pages, many are one or two in length, so you can stop when you need too. Not sure if the library has access to it, but I have it if you are really interested.

So, off to Germany. No books for a few weeks, but I still have seven left. Also have some writing to do (family history) after I interview two aunts in July and early August. And Rebecca keeps reminding me – we still need to do some fishing!

Well, as promised last week, I’ve been debating continuing with my reflections, sort of as a “reflective blog,” during my sabbatical. I’ll give it a try.

This week I’ve spent time reading (more on that later), exploring some software, and taking care of a few things around the house. I even worshiped at Good Shepherd (La Crosse) last week (thank you to Pastor Harald for his hospitality to me and Rebecca), and survived a dental appointment (Dr. Shih is GREAT!) I’ve appreciated the time and the opportunity. This is good!

But there has also been a bit of “angst.” I felt it again earlier today when I thought of the Fun Run crew working tomorrow morning. I’ve never helped with it (I put my time in on the food booth). It happens without me because we have really good people making it happen. But for whatever reason, today was different. I realized that I’m already missing what I’ve given up. I’m missing the people!

To be sure, I’ve been away before (17 day vacation trips come to mind). This time, however I am aware that I am apart from the people of the congregation for another 12 weeks. And even though this will be some good time to recharge and renew, it does have a price – I miss you already! Not because of how wonderful the people of Our Savior’s are (and they are!), but because together we are the body of Christ. Even though we remain the body of Christ, I am feeling deeply the sense of “absence.” Maybe this is what Paul talks about frequently in the New Testament. I’m no “Apostle Paul,” but it is a taste of the loss we have, or at least that I have, when we are not as connected as we were. So just know that I will be looking forward to the end of August when my sabbatical comes to an end!

Now, back to my reading. Nine books to read – and the first done! 1491, by Charles Mann, is a well-written look at what the Americas (North and South) were like before Columbus. Mann argues that contrary to popular belief, the Americas were populated with numerous large civilizations, and that the two hemispheres were hardly an “untainted wilderness.” He proposes that while we think of Indians as living in harmony with the wilderness as it was created, such an attitude is dismissive of Native society. It assumes that Indians merely lived in the land, but did not have the ability to change the land. Instead, he cites numerous examples of how native cultures (and there were many), from New England to the Amazon changed the environment and built thriving cities.

He also notes that native cultures were more advanced than we give them credit. While Indians did not use the wheel (a curious thing, though they didn’t have the animals to pull large carts, so maybe they saw little purpose), they had more accurate calendars than Europeans, and understood “zero” as a number (much harder than you would think) long before any other culture.

So why didn’t Columbus and other early explorers encounter these communities? The very first explorers did, but their accounts were regarded as fantasy because later colonial arrivals found sparse populations. And why is that? Smallpox and other diseases spread so quickly, they outpaced European exploration. By the time Europeans arrived, diseases had wiped out whole communities. By some accounts up to 95% of native populations were killed off by diseases for which Europeans had some level of immunity.

Now, at this point, many over the past few decades have placed the blame on European immigration for the demise of Native communities, even calling it genocide. Mann doesn’t go there, though he acknowledges some level of responsibility. Instead, he lifts up three themes, which I think speak to us even now, many years later.

First, Mann suggests the need to re-appreciate Native culture(s). He believes that we have too often dismissed that culture as simplistic and stagnant, forgetting all that Native cultures bequeathed to us, from tomatoes and peppers, to “zero” and selective breeding (that’s how maize or corn came from simpler native plants), to some of the basic political concepts in the Declaration of Independence (really!)

Makes sense to me. I am keenly aware that people around me have different gifts than I have. Why not a whole culture? Why not celebrate the gifts of other cultures and peoples? I’m German, but I deeply appreciate spaghetti and pizza. Can I also celebrate what Native American cultures have shared,or could have shared?

Second, what about “others,” especially immigrants? Look, I know the issue of immigration and border security is a hot topic, an almost “scorching hot potato.” But what do we forgo in the gifts of others, when we decide that those who are different are not just to be refused entry, but demonized (as they sometimes are) in the process. Not all immigrants, even illegal immigrants are rapists and druggies. And then there is the Bible – again and again scripture talks about hospitality for the immigrant. Mann doesn’t really touch on this, but it seems to me to be a logical outcome of his thesis. If the Americas have been inhabited for thousands of years by cultures as advanced as they were in Europe (or even more advanced), we really can’t claim that we were here first. We are just another in a line of migrating cultures and peoples. And those who seek to migrate here now are still God’s children, bringing with them gifts of God that can enrich us.

Finally, and this is really Mann’s main point, there is little to be gained by trying to go back to a “pristine wilderness,” because such a wilderness never existed. Even the Amazon jungle, Mann argues, is the result of Indian environmental manipulation over 1000 years ago. The land, the soil of the Amazon is not at all fertile, especially in that climate. But there are trees that bear fruit everywhere. Some estimate that as much as 20% of Amazon tree stock is perfect for sustaining human life, and there are suspicions that those trees are not there by accident. Maybe the worlds largest orchard???

Now, that doesn’t mean that Mann proposes abusing the environment either. He notes that with one or two exceptions Indian cultures manipulated the environment in ways that allowed the following generations to thrive. In other words, they didn’t abuse the land, they changed and cultivated the land in a way that was healthy to the environment. And that is what he proposes we seek to do – use, but don’t abuse the land, and leave it ready and healthy for coming generations. Sounds kind of “Biblical” to me – as I read Genesis 1, God gave the land to Adam (and Eve) to use, enjoy, nurture, and steward. We are called as children of God to many things, and perhaps in these difficult days, one of our most important callings is to care for the earth for the sake of those who are to come.

Well, there you go. My first week. I’m starting my next book – “The Good War, an Oral History of World War Two” by Studs Terkel. Maybe I’ll find enough to share with you next week. Or not.  Either way, I’m enjoying this time, and thankful for it. I’m reflecting, learning and renewing – and thankful for the opportunity to do all that. I am also thankful for Pastor Jean and her ministry with you (my turn next year).

But most of all, I am thankful for you, and I look forward to seeing you at the end of August!

If you have followed life at Our Savior’s much at all, you know that I am now on my sabbatical leave. I began Monday, but with a bit of a twist – usually a sabbatical is 3 months – 13 full weeks. I’m taking 12 full weeks, with a half week at the start, and a half week at the end. I’ve heard from others that coming off a sabbatical into full time work is, well, a bit “jarring,” so I figured this would give me a “slow down” week – and a “speed up” week.

That means the sabbatical has started, but also that tomorrow, Sunday, is really the first day that I will feel it. And no, I’m not sleeping in. Actually, I’m heading to Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in La Crosse. I want to use most of my Sundays as an opportunity to worship with some of my colleagues. ELCA churches in our area, and maybe our friends at West Salem Presbyterian too. We’ll see.

Since my sabbatical begins in earnest tomorrow, this might be my last reflections for a while. Or maybe not. That’s a bit of a debate here in our home. Pastor Jean is of the opinion that I should leave that behind. She makes a good point – a commitment to a reflections, maybe every week, becomes something of a “got to,” and a sabbatical should be a time without those kinds of “got to’s.” Fair enough, but I wonder if a commitment to reflections also could be a bit of accountability for me. I don’t want to waste this time, and perhaps a frequent reflection not only ensures I do something, but also that I seek out the meaning and significance of what I am doing.

So what’s the decision? I don’t know. Find out next week!

But for now, let me share at least one “reflection.” Earlier this week I was working to finish off the last minute pile on my desk, including bulletin covers for the summer months (by the way, if you would like to be a “bulletin cover drawer,” let me know – in September!) That meant that I had to prepare the gospel reading for each Sunday, including August 24/25 – the weekend I come back to worship. I read the lesson, and there it was – five times – the word “sabbath.”

There’s some irony there – I’ll get to that in a moment, but first…

“Sabbath” is the root behind “sabbatical.” The reading (Luke 13:10-17) is about the sabbath, and how the sabbath isn’t about doing all the right things. Rather, it’s about being renewed in the gifts of life, offered by God, through Jesus.

That’s what I teach my confirmation kids. “Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy.” We talk about how the sabbath is not about simply showing up in church every week. It’s about finding (or making) a time of rest and renewal, but not through taking a nap, or relaxing a bit. Its about rest and renewal that is grounded is something much more – grounded in God’s work through Jesus. Grounded in new life that can’t be found elsewhere, only in the renewing power of the crucified and risen Jesus.

Now, back to the sabbatical, and the irony that the lesson when I return is about sabbath and “sabbath grounding.” I’m going to worship in other places for the summer, but the rest of my sabbatical is rest and renewal – travel, reading, writing, even some fishing. All good stuff, and perhaps in future reflections I’ll reflect on them in the context, not only of life, but also of faith.

But what of “sabbath?” I’m going to do some things I’ve wanted to do, but haven’t had the time. I’m going to rest and renew. And I’m going to reflect.

But what of “SABBATH?” What of being grounded in Jesus? I need that too. I really need that.

So…I’ve added something to my sabbatical planning. Each Monday morning (weather permitting), I’m going to head over to church. I’m going to walk the labyrinth.

If you are not familiar with it, the labyrinth was the Senior Exit Project by Kessler Goodenough (Kessler graduates tomorrow – congrats Kessler!)

The labyrinth is toward the back of the lot across the street from the parking lot. Walk back toward the fence, and you will find a path of grass, outlined by bricks. The path will lead you on a journey that will, on one level, take you to the center. At the moment the center is a bit bare – we will be getting a bench in the near future. Then, when you are ready, the path will lead you back to the entrance. That’s one level.

On another level, the path leads you on a journey away from the hustle and bustle of the world around us. It leads us into a sanctuary, where even though we are in sight of the world, we are in God’s space. There, in prayer, reflection, or just ordinary silence, we reconnect with the God of life. That we are still in sight of the world reminds us that our “sanctuary” is really a bit of a mirage – we are always in God’s care and embrace, even outside the labyrinth. Its just that the labyrinth helps us imagine that we have put all that aside, and now, in the center, its just “me and God,” for the moment.

In addition to the bench, there are some signs with scripture readings to assist us in our reflection – those will be placed in the near future. Regardless, the labyrinth is open for business even now, and I’m going to use it. I’m going to let the labyrinth help me focus my week, so that all else – reading, writing, resting, even fishing – can be in the shadow of God’s love through Jesus!

And I welcome – invite – encourage – you to do the same. Any day, anytime, and anyone (let others know about it too) – it’s there for you. For you to walk, reflect, pray, and then when you are ready, to leave refreshed and renewed. Your own moment of “sabbath” in the midst of a hectic, demanding, and sometimes very harsh world.

Try it – and know that God’s embrace in the labyrinth continues throughout all the journeys of life. That’ what I’m counting on for this summer – and the days/months/years to come!