HCLM BLOG

I had a lot of firsts this summer. First time having an electrical bill over $300. First time burying a pet. First trip to Israel. The later not only gave me an unbelievable experience but a new perspective on life. Having the chance to see the country for the first time was incredible. Having the opportunity to experience culture while living in people’s homes was priceless. I saw things with new eyes, things that locals don’t normally see, both good and bad.

Paul shared with me an e-mail he received an e-mail from a student from Concordia University (I’m assuming he is a life long Lutheran). He came to Holy Cross for the first time and left underwhelmed because he wasn’t identified as a guest and no one came to greet him as a guest. Now there are a lot of people who are guests during a weekend service, many of whom attend weekly and become members. So it would be easy for me to get defensive but perhaps we can learn something through this man’s first time eyes.

I realize that most people are uncomfortable walking up to someone they do not know, ranked right after getting a root canal and Add to that the fear of greeting someone as a guest who is a long time member and the task can become crippling. Since we have a God who welcomes us, perhaps we can cast aside our fears and be stretched to extend the same courtesy to those around us. After all, the next person you see on Sunday might not be connected to a church community. Why not be first?

On a related note, a new L-team season is starting on August 15. One of the new teams is a guest team that will connect with guests, the ones that write down their names in the blue folder (a good indication they want to be contacted). Perhaps that will become your team.

(We lifted this post from Pastor Ben's DowntownCredo.com blog, cuz we're tight like that.)

So in college I read this sociology book. It was somewhat long and complex but one thing it said was that they tried capitalism in Europe, before America was discovered, and it didn’t really catch on. Something like, people weren’t incentivized by more money. I mean they couldn’t get them to work longer by paying them based on what they produced. The guys on the farms would work just long enough to get what they needed than go home early.

Did you hear that? They weren’t interested in making more money, “Just enough to pay my bills, then I’ll go home and enjoy what I have. Thanks.” What!?

I remembered that when I saw an author on the news this morning talking about his new book: Happy. Pretty ridiculous title if you ask me. But the guy had a phd. so I listened. He had decided that true happiness took three things: pleasure, meaningfulness and…(I must have stopped listening after meaningfulness because I can’t remember the third thing). He said happiness is deep. Pleasure by itself is easy to get, but also easy to lose. It needs to be attached to something larger and more meaningful. Maybe it’s not hard to guess, I like that idea.

It left me wondering about when we became incentivized by money. That sociology book from college had an answer, but I’m guessing the answer is less important than what we do now. We’ve got to discover how to connect pleasure to meaningfulness in life. I know people who have: a friend who sells insurance doesn’t do it to pursue the momentary pleasure of making more money, instead he knows he’s helping people prepare for the future and protect what they have. His job becomes fulfilling.

It’s got me thinking this morning about what in my life is a grasping for momentary pleasure, and what is building for lasting happiness.

-Pastor Ben

Saturday started out so wonderful why did I let it turn in a different direction? Margaret brought me breakfast in bed, a nice treat after staying up late watching the Detroit Red Wings win game two of their Stanley Cup playoff match up. After getting cleaned up, she made a simple request, can you help clean the house today, just vacuum the rugs. That's where the day turned. If I would have been thinking clearly, or at all, I would have said, "sure." But I went into my litany of things that needed to be done, mow the lawn, meeting, VBS calls, work on curriculum for Children's Ministry, prepare for a confirmation meeting, blah, blah...Saturday is a work day for me!

We then digressed into who puts in more time into chores, each of us making a good defense. I then suggested we purchase a time card machine and log our hours. (I was partly kidding.) As I was mowing, I went over my closing statement in my mind, perfecting it like I was on Law & Order. Then it occurred to me that I totally blew it. The issue wasn't really the issue as my professor used to remind us. The issue is that we both felt overwhelmed and under-appreciated. 

Anyone need a slightly used time clock?

There is a wonderful couple that lives close to our house. They walk together regularly and have gotten to be pretty good friends with my dog Isaiah who loves to spend his time sitting outside, watching people go by. They stop and give him a treat. Isaiah loves them. He is the reason that I met them. The problem is that he thinks my name is Bob. That's what he calls me. So do I make him feel uncomfortable and correct him or do I just live with Bob? (Suggestions welcome).

That got me thinking about relationships. My dad, a wonderful man who (hard to believe) died almost 15 years ago, was a man who kept personal things personal. I don't ever remember hearing war stories from WWII or how he felt or seeing him get emotional about anything. (Although friends told me they saw him cry at my ordination.) Dad wasn't a very emotional person. At least comparatively speaking, I am pretty emotional and passionate. But I do have the tendency, like my dad, to keep personal things personal. To keep my cards close to my chest. I am thankful for my wonderful wife and a select group of friends with whom I have learned to let down my guard. They are a treasure. I wonder if my dad had such a close group of people around him? Do you? Do they know your name? My name is Bob.

This morning I did that thing where you’re thinking, “I should call that person” then you’re like, “Shoot, I’ll just call them right now.” So I did. I called a friend of mine from school.

He lives in Wisconsin (I don’t know why. I told him it was cold and flat, but people don’t listen to me). They live in a house they bought almost two years ago. He said that would be the longest they’ve lived in the same place in almost 10 years. He was marveling and the relative permanence of his life.

Megan and I had a similar experience recently. I mean we’ve lived places for two years, but whenever we moved we would save the boxes. We knew we’d be moving again and didn’t want to have to look for boxes. For six years, three states, and six moves we’ve carried these same boxes. Six weeks ago, as we packed up our house in Sanford, we realized this is the last time for these disintegrating cardboard containers. As we unpacked in Orlando, each one was stacked in the carport, and then out to the trash. It was a cathartic experience. We got to throw out the boxes. 

As I said that, “we threw out the boxes” he chimed in, “hey I still have boxes stacked in the garage…I should throw out the boxes.”

It was exciting to get to throw out the boxes, but we are realizing the reality now of our relative permanence. It means committing yourself to a place, investing in people and engaging in their lives, not just your own.

I wonder if you’ve ever thrown out the boxes. I mean committed yourself to a place. Put forth the energy and emotion it takes to make some roots. If Jesus is a role model for you, then making roots will include serving the town you live in and the people you share life with. It would mean connecting meaningfully with other followers and loving your neighbors. It takes work but hey, we’re not going anywhere we might as well throw out the boxes.