Reflections on Palm Sunday

Palm Sunday.  The day we shout "Hosanna!"  The day we give praise to the Savior.  The day we realize, that Jesus is not just an ordinary man, but something much more.  We shout as loudly as we can, with as much emotion as we can possibly muster.  But, by Friday, just as passionately, we are shouting "crucify him!" 

I say we, because it is we who put the nails in his hands.  It is us, you and I, who hung him on the cross.  It is us who spat in his face.  It is us, in need of his grace.  It is you, it is me.

Palm Sunday-Hosanna!

How is it that on Sunday we can praise him?  Praise him to the point that we are as the Rev. describes it, "wildly chopping palm branches down."  We take off our coats and lay them on the dirty, dusty ground so that a donkey, an animal can walk over them.  How is it that on Sunday we praise him and by Friday we despise him?

I'm not sure, but whether we admit or not, we all do it.  Sure, we may not feel as if we despise him, but our actions say otherwise.  We gossip, we hate, we envy.  We keep the bountiful blessings He gives us to ourselves.  "It is my time, it is my money," we say.  I am as guilty as the next. 

We look at history, at the Holy Week in scriptures and pretend that we would not have been one of the traitors.  We pretend that we would not be one of "those people" who praised Him and then hated Him.  We do this in the same way we blame the Israelites for complaining about manna, all while impatiently waiting for the latest Facebook updates to load on our smartphones. 

Sinners, traitors, jealous and impatient, we are.  Not one of us deserves it, but all who ask receive it.  The gift of Grace.  The beautiful, incomprehensible gift of Grace.  Grace that we fail to extend to others, but continue to receive from the Father.

Today I watched my sweet boy and sweet girl exuberantly wave their palm branches and sing.  But, I know they too, are human.  They are sinful and as they age, as they learn to cope in this broken world, they will too, will despise him through their actions.  It breaks my heart to think of that.  It puts a knot in the pit of my stomach.  You see, Jesus came for me, for which I am eternally grateful, but he came for my children too, and as a mother that strikes an even deeper cord within me.

So, as Little E and KJ grow, as they turn their backs on Christ daily, just as the rest of us do, I also know that the story does not end there.  Because the week continues and culminates into a glorious ending.  They are, you are and I am saved.  Not because of our actions, but in spite of them.  And that, my friends, is worth shouting for.

Blessed Palm Sunday!

Mom: Aka Manager of Stuff

Packing is well under way at the Prairie Parsonage these days.  Everything we own is carefully being bubble wrapped, boxed, taped up and labled for a 600 plus mile journey to our new home.  Ok, in reality, most things are just getting thrown into a box, but I would like to think I am more organized than that.

In the midst of sorting through our things, my first thought is "Why in the world do we need all of this STUFF!"  It is merely stuff.  Thousands of dollars, spent on stuff.  Money that could be saved, money that could be used to help others.  Seeing everything you own out of cupboards, drawers and closets, makes a person realize how much she really has and how little she really needs.  It is very convicting.

Why do we have so much?  For a long time now, I have felt like I wake up each morning to start sifting through our stuff.  It annoyed me, it frustrated me and I am so very thankful for a move that will help us get rid of the clutter in our lives.  As Miss MT once said, "Nothing good comes from clutter."  Amen to that!

So, why am I ranting on this topic?  First, this is good therapy for me to vent!  (ok, just kidding on that).  It is more of a conviction.  Stuff is obviously filling some voids in the Prairie Parsonage, voids that are meant to be filled by God and God alone. 

Recently, I came across a box of stuff from my school years.  Notes (you know- those things that we used to pass in class before texting came along), pictures of prom and danceteam, my graduation cap, a map of the route we took on our honeymoon.  Bascially, a box of stuff that I am holding onto in order to preserve memories.  It's not a bad thing, but it made me realize that all of the time and effort I put into everything growing up was for one focus.  So that I could get a good paying job, make a lot of money and then I could buy stuff.

Stuff from the good old days!

But, much like the stuff of my growing up years, the stuff we buy now doesn't really mean much in the long run.  I am going to go out on a limb here, but I think that in South Central ND, we have a huge problem with stuff.  A friend who recently moved to the area said that once the snow is gone, the toys come out.  He is right.  4-wheelers, boats, campers, motorcycles, you name it, you see it.  I am not saying that these things are bad- they are good.  But, when used for the wrong reasons such as filling voids of relationships in our lives or worse, filling voids that only God can fill, they are toxic. 

Please don't think that I am judging.  Instead, I am looking at the giant log in my own eye.  But it does make me wonder.  If you and I maybe bought a little less stuff, focused a little more on our relationship with Christ and spent less time and money on our toys, what kind of impact would that have on our community?

My guess is that we would become just a little closer to our friends and neighbors, a little more like Christ and a little slower to anger (which us stubborn Germans and non Germans could definitely benefit from).  Just a few thoughts today from the Manager of Stuff.

You know you're married to a pastor when....

The place of much spiritual growth for me: Jamestown Reservior

You know you are married to a pastor when he thinks it's attractive when you quote Bernard of Clairvaux.  Recently, I came across a quote on Vantage Point 3's blog from Bernard of Clairvaux.  Bernie is what we refer to as a "old dead guy".  Basically, these are guys that my husband would like to name a child (or at least a dog) after.  Athenasius is one, Luther, Calvin, and Wesley are a few others.

Bernard of Clairvaux

Bernard of Clairvaux stated, “If then you are wise, you will show yourself rather as a reservoir than as a canal. For a canal spreads abroad water as it receives it, but a reservoir waits until it is filled before overflowing, and thus communicates, without loss to itself, its superabundant water. In the Church at the present day, we have many canals, few reservoirs.”  Having lived over 1000 years ago, this "old dead guy" hit the nail on the head and the words are still true today.

During my college days (when I was ultra hip), the loner in me used to spend hours by the reservior in my college town.  I would study out there, eat out there, and just be with God out there.  Some of the best times were when my friends Mike and Ibby would invite me to their home that overlooked the vast waters of the reservior.  Maybe, that's why this quote hit home with me.  Much of my spiritual formation has occured along the banks of a prairie reservior.

When we fill ourselves with God, we will have something to give.  So why is it, that we run from this?  Why don't we, why don't I, for that matter, slow down and fill our self with His goodness?  For some, this occurs when we hang out with other believers, other people, such as my husband, are studiers.  An introvert by nature, I need solitude.  I worry more about having dinner on the table, the dishes done and a clean house, than I do about being a reservoir of God's goodness, love and mercy.  So tonight, in honor of "old dead guys" like Bernie, the Prairie Parsonage family will be dining on pizza, eating off of paper plates because this mama is going to grab a cup of java, her Bible and spend some time with her maker. 

May you too, find a little time in your hectic day to reconnect with Him!