Holy Week Haiku

Holy Week Haiku
To share simply, profoundly,
The cross message, H O P E.

Maundy Thursday:

Don't reject service.

Jesus is not your genie. 

His service starts yours.

Good Friday:

God gave up glory,

The tree of life has been found,

Bloody, cross of death.

Easter Sunday:

Go to the gravesite;

Hell won the fight, lost the war.

Hope is yours, now go.

Experience more:

Listen, pray, watch with others,

Go to church. Yes, you.

www.facebook.com/firstimmanuel for more information on our services in Cedarburg and Saukville.

You Are There

I am my father's son

Same frame, same race to run

I'll look back when I'm done

And know you were there.

Why did you give me life?

To subject me to strife?

This pain cuts like a knife

But I know you are there.

My short days are fleeting

Time left with heart beating

This knowledge- unseating

But I know you are there.

I need you Lord, to save

My mansion is a grave

You know I am not brave

But I know you are there.

You are there- in weakness

You are there- in trials

You are there- in heartache

You are there- in grief

You are there- through it all

Immanuel- with us

You are the God who is there.

H O M E

How did you draw me out, my love?

How did you set my heart free and capture me at the same time?

How did you give me a safe space full of suspense?

Not even a quarter of my life, but the immense amount of memories threatens to dislodge everything that came before you. I have found meaning and purpose in you and with you, something that never existed before that warm night in June. I experienced a fire that was life-giving, warming my soul and lighting the way before us.


You have become home.

You have become family.

Years of wandering, and I found you.

Years together, and we have each other.

No fancy mansion; just two broken and weary-worn parents with love and coffee.

We have become parents.

The next generation lies in our hands and wets our bed.

We are driving through Colorado, staring at stone faces, waking up with Hank the cow-dog. We are smashing roaches, birthing babies, moving. Always moving. Seven times moving. We are living Saturday mornings at farmer’s markets, walking downtown, leading our sons through the parks of childhood. We are living.


And we pause for a second, to look back.

Every step seemed to take so long and demand so much time, care, and attention.

But look how far we’ve come.

We have become a man and a woman.

We have become a husband and a wife.

We have become one.


We have become a home.

The First Christmas

On December 20^th, 2017, my father got diagnosed with brain cancer. They scheduled him for immediate surgery on December 23^rd. On December 24^th, I was scheduled to lead two of my congregation’s four Christmas Eve services as well as the Christmas Day service. On top of that, my dad was 1,000 miles away from us, heading into a surgery which would be life-altering. I was overwhelmed. Thankfully, his surgery got postponed to December 26^th and my congregation graciously allowed me to leave to be with him. Instead of preparing to preach to a full church, I packed my family into our vehicle and drove across six states. Last year, I had my last Christmas with my dad.

Christmas 2017, all of us gathered together with Dad

My whole family piled into my brother’s house for Christmas Eve. I had brought a bulletin of the service I was supposed to be leading that evening in New York, and my 8-year-old nephew did all the readings. We sang the Christmas carols, we cried, we exchanged gifts, and we cried some more. My dad tried to tell us all how much he loved us, but the hug and the passionate look in his eyes said much more than words ever could. I will never forget that Christmas, the last Christmas.

My dad put up a valiant fight with an infection and growing tumor, still finding joy in his family. After months in the ICU and then hospice in home, my father died on March 20th. This year, we will celebrate the first Christmas without my father. It will be emotional, painful, tear-full. It will be a hard day, but a day still to celebrate. A day still to gather around gifts and food, family and friends. A day still to sing and pray, laugh and cry.

I am sure I am not alone in having a first Christmas this year. Maybe it’s yours, too. The first Christmas without Grandma. The first Christmas with a new child. The first Christmas in a new home. The first Christmas without a job. The first Christmas after the divorce. Pain and heartache mixed with joy and happiness await many of us during the holidays. It can make the excitement of Christmas dreadful. We get caught in a confusing world of joy and pain, an we struggle to sort out our feelings.

Thinking back to the first Christmas, though, it makes sense. After all, the first Christmas came as a complete shock to everyone. Shepherds in the field, a crowded city, first-time parents forced to travel late in pregnancy. The first Christmas was, in so many ways, not pleasant. Those shepherds had left their families at home and were sleeping on rocky soil with smelly sheep surrounding them. Mary and Joseph couldn’t find a comfortable place to spend the night. But on that night, heaven touched earth. On that night, angels bent low with sweet songs. On that night, a baby was brought into the world with the agonizing joy of a first time mother. The first Christmas was joy coming to a broken, chaotic, lost, and dying world. On that night, God was born in a barn and embraced humanity more fully than we could ever comprehend. As Phillips Brooks wrote, “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight.” 

All the years… Each Christmas is truly the First Christmas, filled with the tension between living in the moment and awaiting eternity. It is a day where we always do the same thing, sing the same songs, hear the same readings. But each year we experience them in a new way, with a new depth and richness. Each year brings new experiences, new sadness, new hope, new longings. We gather together with those closest to us in the agonizing joy of this life which God has given us, awaiting the ultimate present of eternal life in God’s presence. We embrace the pain and the joy and hold them in tension, as a new mother embraces her baby through the pains of childbirth.

There will be a day with no more pain, no more tension. Christmas will come to fulfillment in that Last Day, but not before. Until then, let us celebrate the First Christmas every year, embracing the hope that comes from trusting in the Immanuel, God-with-us, the God who loved us first and promises to fill us with love, joy, and peace forever.

Giving thanks in the midst of suffering

On December 20th, my father went into an Emergency Room in Monroe, WI, with some slurred speech. They found a mass in his brain after a CT scan, and thus begun a rush to get him into surgery and work on getting rid of a tumor that was found.
On February 20th, after two short months of battling a tumor and surgically-acquired infection, my father got the devastating news that the tumor had grown back- as big as it was before the surgery. He was put on hospice; I was able to get back to Wisconsin on February 24th and help get him from a nursing home into my parents' home. He has been home now since February 28th, and it has been 10 days since he has eaten or drank. His battle with a brain tumor is wearing him down slowly, and we pray peacefully.
Dying is one of the hardest processes we as humans will go through, and it is universal. We will all go through it, and chances are high that we will watch someone else go through it as well. God has something profound for us to learn through dying; in fact, dying was a central theme of Jesus' teaching: "If anyone will come after me, he must deny himself, pick up his cross, and follow me."
Losing my father is something I was not ready for and am still not ready for.  But here I am.  And being here by his side is a privilege and an honor.  Being your Pastor is a privilege and an honor.  I have felt torn between two places I call home, two communities my heart desires so strongly to serve.
Even in the midst of pain and suffering, I am thankful to be here with my father, and our family must thank you as a congregation for allowing us these last moments with him here on this earth.  We are humbled by your understanding, your outreach to our family, and the unity you all have with one another and Christ. We look forward to seeing you all again soon, knowing that my father will at last rest peacefully with our Lord.
My father has been a man of God and an example in the faith for me and many others. He has embraced Wisdom, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it." He led me in Sunday School and adult Bible studies, and he has modeled a servant heart both in the church and outside the church. There will be a dad-sized hole in my life, and I will miss him dearly.  But I am filled with the hope that transcends knowledge and experience: the hope of eternal life, that death is not only the end of life, but the beginning of a new life together in the presence of the Lord.

I put together a short video over the last couple weeks, to capture some of our memories. Feel free to watch it here: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=h4wwsing9a8

Marguerite

Recently, I had the opportunity to spend time with a man and his wife. She has had Alzheimer's for some time now, and their life has had major adjustments to it. I was moved by the love this man had for his wife- true love, one that gives without getting. As we wept together over the sharing of painful memories, I was thankful he let me in on his life. He was not ashamed, embarrassed, or saddened in any way by his life. His heart was filled with the love of Jesus, and he shared it with everyone he met and cared for daily in the memory care unit where his wife now lives.

I wrote this poem for him and his wife, and I hope it paints a picture of one couple's struggle with this dreadful disease and the hope that overcomes through love.

Marguerite

Two pillows, one head,

Lying awake, alone, in bed;

The tears have already been shed.

But tomorrow is another day.

One wall, two frames,

Holding pictures with their names;

The faces don’t quite look the same.

But tomorrow is another day.

One pond, little fish,

Four years, one wish;

A familiar look, a knowing kiss.

But tomorrow is another day.

A woman so sweet swept him off his feet

Before he even turned seventeen. Now wondering,

Puzzling, after sixty years, why she must come here.

It breaks his heart to leave her every day,

The pain of a thousand deaths, but her heart still beats.

He is never beat, never leaves her side,

The tears cried make him more certain of the life he’s been given.

Jesus has a promise and we all await heaven,

So he takes a deep breath, begins to pray,

And lets Jesus lead them on to another day.

Two homes, here and there,

Neither has the squeak of a rocking chair;

He learned to love in the truest way, to selflessly care.

And tomorrow is another day.

photo from https://unsplash.com/search/aging?photo=ULz8ELesYBM

Expanding Upon Black Lives Matter

A controversial topic right now, in light of many tragic deaths, is the value of a human life, especially in relationship to another. All human life is sacred, from unborn children to 23-year-old drug dealers, no matter what we may think. All life has value, according to Genesis 9, “Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed, for God made man in his own image."

We all bear the image of God, especially fathers. Fathers reflect our Heavenly Father; we show love, give guidance, and provide stability in the lives of children. This is truly a blessed burden, to be held to such a standard. I myself struggle and fail with representing the perfect love and righteousness that my children need to have modeled to them. I don't always show them the right way to handle anger or frustration, or how to talk to others and love their mother. I miss dinner for work meetings, and I am not always attentive to their needs. But I do model for them a positive life as well, starting with confession and forgiveness. I lead the best I can and help them to be strong and confident in my (and my wife's) love and in the love of God. This is my duty, and this is the very beginning of "culture", raising our kids in the way they should go. PLEASE watch this video from Prager U; it unpacks a relatively un-discussed part of the conversation. Do I have a right to bring it up? Probably not, but this man does, and so does his father before him. You might not agree with everything he says, but it is hard to argue with statistics, and it is sure to leave you with some thoughts, which I would love to hear. May we continue to stand up for the value and dignity of every person, starting with our own children and those near and dear to us!

https://www.prageru.com/courses/race-relations/black-fathers-matter#.V17jISck_RU.mailto