The moon kind of tricked me this morning. When I woke up, a little before five, it convinced me that the sun was about to peek over the mountains.

Nope. That wasn’t going to happen for almost two hours. The extra light was a full moon reflecting the sun’s rays into the bedroom.

But I felt a little tug so I started the coffee and made my way to the loft for morning prayers. There I was greeted by one of my favorite verses, ” The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament (the sky) shows his handiwork.” (Psalm 19:1)

“Declare” “Shows”

It’s now a little after six and I just added to my to-do list, “take a long look at the sky and prayerfully ask yourself what it’s saying.”

Two quick life lessons from my grandchildren. I have mentioned that I have grandchildren, haven’t I?

Lesson one from my granddaughter, the dancing superstar. Her recital was the other night and she was wonderful. She was dressed spectacularly (and knew it), and she and her classmates were flawless (at least as flawless as six and seven year olds ever are at such things). They hit their marks, did cartwheels, forward rolls, and jumped to the music, all while “Working at the Carwash.” Afterward, I told her that she had been fantastic and I hoped that she felt good about her performance. Her response? “I had fun!”

Lesson two from my four year old grandson, the soccer superstar. He is usually one of the smallest on the field but his super power is speed.

In one of the last games of his season, a kid on the other team knocked him down. Some folks would have started crying and stayed down but my little buddy hasn’t backed down in, well, ever. He jumped up and shouted at his opponent, “Why’d you knock me down?” The other fellow’s reply was the classic soccer response, “Cause I’m a ninja.”

Here’s what happened next. Flash realized that the ball was still live so he kicked it around the ninja warrior and into the net. Gooooooaaaaaaallllll!

Flash then looked at the ninja, stuck his tongue out, and jogged back down field.

My daughter wasn’t particularly thrilled with the sportsmanship but my son-in-law, who understands the intricacies of soccer, explained that was just a four year old’s way of politely saying, “I got your ninja.”

So there it is, some days you are looking good, hitting your marks, and feeling the music of life. Enjoy them. Have fun. There’s no guarantee that things will go that way tomorrow so savor it. Because, some days the ninjas knock you down. When they do, don’t be afraid, stay in the game, the ball is still live, so keep your focus on the main thing. And if you want to, in a good sport kind of way, stick your tongue out and say, “I got your ninja.”

This grand experiment of not working for a living is now coming to the end of its first year. I think it is time to stop dodging the question that I have been asked again and again, “How’s retirement?”

Dodging isn’t really the right word. I actually didn’t know the answer. I needed some time to get my balance. Retirement is a pretty big transition and I wasn’t really sure how it was.

It would seem to be a simple question, requiring a simple and pithy answer, but when my tired clergy brothers and sisters ask it, they look at me like it will break their heart if I don’t tell them that it is absolutely wonderful. So, for their sake, let me start by saying, yep, it’s good.

It’s good to be hugged more often by grandchildren, daughters, sons-in-law, my brother, and my father. It’s good to get, and to be able to accept, more invitations to dance recitals, soccer matches, to play with toy cars, and to go fishing in the pond behind my daughter’s new home.

It’s good to focus a little more on my inner life and less on the structural life of the church. It’s good to be just Jim, to have a beer, and to be able to let it slip that I may not have voted a straight Republican ticket for the last thirty years and probably won’t in the near future, without having to go into defense mode.

In other words, it’s good to rest.

I think that it’s worth noting that when Paul was listing all the things that he had suffered; things like, floggings, stonings, shipwrecks, hunger, and thirst; he threw in “and besides other things, I am under daily pressure because of my anxiety for the churches.” I am not a whiner but if you take it seriously, that pastoring gig can wear you down. Anxiety for the church is a real thing. So yes my tired brothers and sisters, it is good to rest.

But here’s the bad news, even when you are retired, it’s still life. There’s still pain, sorrow, grief, and responsibility. Fathers have strokes, friends die, family members go crazy (and think you have). You’re still human and have to say “I’m sorry” a lot. And, God still interrupts and says, “It looks to me like somebody needs to do/say/be something there and I kinda had you in mind,” and sometimes doing/saying/being isn’t particularly easy. So, it’s still life.

Life. You know, love, joy, sorrow, grief, distress, worry, peace, faith, boredom, breathtaking excitement, beauty, anger, moments of courage, moments of fear, ignorance, wonder, presence. . . life, and it’s good. Always has been, still is.

Not exactly a pithy answer but it’ll have to do.

Me and my Tilley

When my friend, Donna Johnson, was the executive director of Camp Discovery in Blythewood, SC, she had a sign at the entrance which read, “Leave your hats at the gate.”

This actually meant more than if you were a Patriots fan, she wanted to save you from embarrassing yourself by wearing your cap around other people. Her point was that at the camp, everyone was just who they were; no more, no less, and that was plenty. When I passed through the gate, I wasn’t Reverend or Doctor Hunter. I was Jim. Just Jim. For people of The Way, that’s pretty foundational.

The very essence of who we, who were created in the image of God, are is, “Child of God.” That trumps everything; titles, status, education, gender, race, age, physical ability, finances, even sports teams. “This is my son” proclaimed the voice that spoke when the heavens were torn apart at Jesus’ baptism. “This is my child,” says that same voice at our baptism. God claims you. That is the beginning point; it’s all built on that.

I once spent a beautiful spring day at Donna’s place, blowing bubbles into the face of a little girl I had just met. She was around ten or eleven, blind, unable to talk, bound to a wheel chair that reclined because she had no real control of her limbs, and occasionally she needed me to wipe her mouth due to drooling. Donna, a recreational therapist, said that my new friend would enjoy some sensory stimulation so we sat in the shade of a large tree with its new spring leaves, felt the gentle wind, and I blew bubbles on her face. When I had to pause in order to reload, I could tell she was excitedly anticipating the next barrage. Her breathing would become faster, her head would turn in the direction of the last bubble, and there would be a slight, nervous giggle deep in her throat. Then, when a big fat one popped on her cheek she would laugh like one of those babies on Facebook, and I would laugh like one of those babies on Facebook, and her angel would smile, and my angel would think, “He seems to be coming around.”

Who do you think was God’s favorite in that scene? I think the company line is that God doesn’t have favorites. But, my favorite is the little girl, who will never have a degree, never to get a job, never to get out of her wheelchair, always need someone to wipe her mouth, and gave me a gift of laughter I remember ten years later. Perhaps, on her part, she appreciated the nervous fellow blowing bubbles.

Reciprocal. That’s another word Donna introduced into my relational world. Neither of us had a hat on. We were just two children of God, laughing with the angels under a tall tree on a spring day.

This is part of my forest dwelling pondering because around here I am just an old guy that drops in Subway for a tuna on wheat now and then, plays poker on Thursday nights, and talks too much about his grandchildren. Jim.

I used to tell folks that I was retiring as a pastor so I could concentrate on being a Christian. I didn’t mean that as a slam on pastoring. I am completely grateful for my years as a Church leader. I just meant that, for me, thinking about numbers, missions, and other ways to be identified as a vital congregation was getting a little distracting. Those are all good things and they were a part of what I was supposed to think about during  that part my life but now it’s just Jim; trying to live justly, loving kindness, walking a little more humbly with God. Trying to remember that part of me that is the best part, the fundamental part, the part that can’t be earned. The part that was created by the one that fills galaxies and laughs at bubbles with little girls and old men.

No hats. Except a straw one to wear while working in the yard, a Tilley to wear when hiking, a couple Panthers caps. . .

Matthews Creek, which runs through the heart of Asbury Hills Camp and Retreat Center, is worth the trip into the South Carolina mountains. It is a pristine mountain stream, lively in places, beautiful everywhere. You can hear the voice of God, “like the sound of waters,” as it breaks over the rocks its current has smoothed for thousands of years.

Back in the day, when I used to help lead youth retreats from Epworth Children’s Home to Asbury Hills, the creek figured prominently in our stay as we played and pondered in and around it. Since many of the kids had never been to the mountains and had never seen anything like Matthews Creek I used to tease them and ask them to remind me to turn the creek off before we went to bed. I don’t remember anyone ever falling for that. In fact, I have no memory of anyone thinking that it was as funny as I did. It just intrigued me that the beautiful creek just flowed and flowed and flowed, whether I was staring at it in awe or not.

All this came back to me the other day as I hiked to Catawba Falls with a couple of my grands. These Falls are the beginnings of the Catawba River and as you make the mile or so trek from the trailhead to the base of the falls, you wade through the shallow beginnings of the river that takes on tributaries and becomes the basin, that becomes the river, that creates the lakes (Wylie and Norman) that I used to play and ponder on as a boy.

Every time I have visited the falls there have been other people there. There has always been an audience and without exception, all are stuck by the 150 foot majesty that literally fills each of the five senses. No one just looks up, goes ho hum, and turns around to begin the trip back to the trailhead. But, just like Matthews creek, Catawba Falls just falls and falls and falls, whether people are watching or not. Middle of the night? Trail closed? Snow covered and impossible to get to? Thunder storm? Still falling.

Nine months ago I was leading a somewhat public life. Once a week people would gather at the building where I worked and one of the expectations of the day was that I would have something to share with them about our relationship with God. That meant that most of the time when I did my reading and pondered my prayers I would stop and make a quick note when the Spirit spoke. I did this so I would have something I could tell “them” later that week. Reading and praying like that can get your reading and praying off track. You start reading and praying with a focus on having something to tell them.

Now when I ponder and think about God’s love surrounding us  like the sheriff’s posse that surrounds the bad guys so completely that there’s nothing to do but surrender, there’s no one to tell. It is pretty rare; in fact it is very rare, that anyone ever asks me what I think about some spiritual principle. All I do with most of my insights now days is to quietly pray, change my heart O God.

And realize that true life, the gift of life, flows on and on and on. And the true audience, the Living One, the pulling-for-you One, the Loving One, the surrounding One, is always there. It is a living relationship that flows forever and it is bound by the one who is ever present to me. Storms, blocked trails, midnight, still there.

Every creek, every waterfall, every lily, every sparrow, every retired preacher.

Those that occasionally read this blog – and there are at least two of us – know that for the last several weeks I have been pondering the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus’ response to the disciples when they asked him to teach them to pray. As I pondered, it occurred to me, almost like noticing the sky and wondering why I had never noticed it before, that Jesus didn’t just teach the disciples this prayer, he probably prayed it himself. More than that, he lived it.

We can see this distinctly as we think about the events of Holy Week. The one who said, “When you pray, say: Father… your kingdom come, your will be done,” prayed in the garden, “Father, not my will but yours be done.” He said for us to ask for our daily bread and as he sat with his friends, he took the bread, blessed, broke, and gave it. In the prayer he teaches us to pray for forgiveness with the realization that our being forgiven is woven together with our willingness to forgive. Then, on the cross, he prays, “Father forgive them.” In other words, Jesus didn’t just say prayers, his life was a prayer.

That is our calling as well. Henri Nouwen, in The Living Reminder, said that we are called to, “A way of being, which embraces the totality of life: working and resting, eating and drinking, praying and playing, acting and waiting.” Obviously prayer is far more than a prayer time, no matter how many prayer times we may observe during the day. Prayer is a lifestyle, a stance, a turning toward God, an awareness, it is our life. It is not so much something we do as it is what we are.

Sometimes I get this. Sometimes it is so clear. Sometimes my hearing, my seeing, my speaking, my doing, my breathing, my heartbeat are all one and present to the Lord. Sometimes.

I know I am dancing all around it. I feel like I am trying to explain the sky in three hundred words or less and words are failing. But, I’ll try again,. I think prayer is a calling; a deep, primal, real calling to a life that is awake to the truth that all we do and all we are is our prayer.

Let it be.

Anne Lamott says that there are essentially three prayers; help, thanks, and wow. My heart was singing “wow” the other day when my six-year old grandson quietly shared that he had prayed, “help.”
My little buddy left for school that morning very anxious about something that is vitally important to him and it was having a major impact on his ability to enjoy life. If you are guessing that he was worried about math homework, whether or not his clothes matched, or how he could improve his conduct grade, you are pretty far off track. He was distressed about a computer game. His older sister had logged on to his game, made a wrong move, and lost “five hours’ worth of work.” As you know, five hours is a long time to a six-year old and if it was spent “working,” well, all the more reason for distress. That is until he prayed.
When we picked him from school, his Mom asked him how his day had gone; he smiled and said, “It was good. You know how I was all worried about that game? Well, I just prayed about it. I don’t know why I did. I just did.” And that was that. No mention about the “peace that passes understanding” or anything else biblical but the clear implication was that asking the Lord for a little help had lightened the load a good bit.
Ok, I know what you are thinking so here are the rules: you can only laugh at that if you have never prayed for your team to win, a putt to go in, a good parking place, or for a painless shot at the doctor’s office. All the rest of you deep theologians may laugh away… at a little boy… who opened his heart to God.
Me? I smiled and breathed a “Wow.”
So let’s review. He was “very anxious about something that is vitally important to him and it was having a major impact on his ability to enjoy life.” I’m not much into computer games and it’s been a long time since I prayed for my team to win, a putt to go in, or for a parking place (maybe not so long for that painless shot) but I am familiar with anxiety that can inhibit my ability to enjoy life. It comes from grief, fear, disease, addictions, broken relationships, and human suffering. You know, big boy stuff. So my plan is to try very hard to be like my six-year-old mentor and remember to pray when I’m in the midst of such.
I suppose you know the line that precedes, “the peace that passes understanding” says, “Do not worry about anything, but in everything, by prayer… let your requests be made known to God.” (Philippians 4:6) Anything. Everything.
I’m not talking about giving God a to do list. I am pretty sure that “fix this,” and “do that” aren’t very good prayers. On the other hand, it’s been my experience that “help me remember that you are with me,” “heal my broken heart,” and “give me strength to face this with courage and love,” bring clarity to the situation.
Sometimes when I pray those prayers I hear the loving response, “Don’t be afraid, I am here. Be still and know that I am God.” Then I remember with Julian of Norwich that the promise is not that we will avoid pain, the promise is that all shall be well.
Still, five hours is a long time to a little boy so we were pretty pleased to discover that he could resume the game right where he left off. No harm, no foul big Sis. Yay! And they lived happily ever after. Pretty much.
So I guess that covers it. “Help,” said my little buddy. “Wow,” said his Granddaddy. Oh, and “Thanks.” Thanks for little boys that walk with Christ.
Did I mention wow?

A St. Patrick’s Day special.
J. Philip Newell, in his book Christ of the Celts, shares a wonderful story about the saint of Ireland on the day of judgement. Patrick is summoned to the eternal but he declines saying, “I will not come unless all my people may come with me.” The summons comes a second time and again he says, “I will not come unless my people may come with me.” The third time, God relents and says to tell Patrick that his people may come with him but there is one thing that he must do. The legend doesn’t say what the one thing is but there is no doubt that Patrick will do it.
Newell also writes of a time from his childhood when he awoke in the middle of the night and thought his house was empty. He became convinced that the rapture had occurred and that he had been left behind. Then it occurred to him that his parents would not have left him. They would have been like Patrick and declined the invitation if they had to forsake their son.
I must confess that being able to decline had never occurred to me. Well, that’s not entirely true. People decline all the time and I agree with C.S. Lewis who said that no one will go to heaven that doesn’t want to. (Actually, that isn’t exactly the way he said it. C.S. Lewis would never dangle a participle.) I just never considered being able to make sure my loved ones were on the train to glory before getting my ticket punched.
But, here’s the deal. I don’t think I am going to need to. (Again, with the dangling. I bet C. S. Lewis is wishing his name wasn’t even associated with this post.) I won’t need to because the phrase, “I will not leave or forsake you” is taken by the one who endured the cross in order to prove that he has no intention of leaving anyone behind. (John 15:15)
Christ is the source of our love. The love we feel for our friends and family comes from Christ and it is a sign that Christ is in us. It was Christ in Patrick, telling God that he wants everyone to come. It is Christ in us telling God that we want our loved ones to come.
God said yes.
Ponder that while you sip a green beer.

When we moved into our cabin I knew exactly where I wanted my desk. It had to be in the loft, facing a window that looks out to the north.
The view through the window is the south side of our mountain. That includes a road where I sometimes see our neighbors, or maybe my wife and dog, taking a morning stroll. I can also see several huge rocks that were pushed around by continental shifts millennia ago. They remember when these mountains were the tallest in the world. There are couple thousand trees and of course, critters. Squirrels are common, as are crows, tufted titmouse, and cardinals. There have been sightings of box turtles, wild turkeys, and deer. There is evidence that a bear or two has passed this way. Sometimes, at night, I wonder about the wild cousins that I haven’t seen but I know they sneak by: the skunks, raccoons, and snakes. All that, plus a never ending sky that will sometimes send a thick cloud into our yard. It all reminds me why some call creation, “God’s first bible.” Like the psalmist says, it’s all telling the glory of God and proclaiming his handiwork.
On my side of the window, the top of my desk is covered with icons, spiritual mementos, pictures of family, and words that I have written to remind me that I am a child of the light. The books I am reading devotionally are there and they speak to me of God’s love and acceptance. When I’m sitting at my desk, sipping a good cup of coffee, it’s pretty easy to be a Christian.
Sometimes it feels so easy I do a little spiritual checkup just to remind myself that there may still be a spot or two in my heart that needs some work. It’s a pretty simple test. I just ponder that part of the prayer that goes, “your will be done.”
I’m afraid I almost always – by that I mean every time so far – feel a little hitch when it’s time to pray that. If I was going to pray honestly, and there’s really no reason not to, I would probably pray, “Thy kingdom come and for right now let’s just talk about what you have in mind concerning my life.”
Why do you suppose that is? I’m not sure there is an easy answer. Part of it is all that awesomeness outside my window makes God look pretty big and frankly a little wild, in others words, scary. I know that wanting to be in control plays a big part. I have some plans of my own. What if God wants me to go where I don’t want to go or do what I don’t want to do? A desire for comfort and my feelings of unworthiness also play a part. I am certain that a basic underlying fear of risk and change are part of the mix as well. But, why would I be afraid of the One who has gone to such great and amazing effort to say and prove that the nature of our Creator is love.
Think about it, love God – love neighbor – God is love – God so loved the world – I will never leave or forsake you – this is my commandment that you love as you have been loved – God saw creation and called it good – steadfast love – we are God’s own – surely goodness and mercy… you get the point. Still the hitch persists.
Thy will be done. Thy will be done. Thy will be done. Maybe if I say enough I will live it.

Jesus’ response to “teach us to pray” was “when you pray, pray in this way” and then he gave the disciples what we call the Lord’s Prayer.

I have found the following exercise to be helpful as I linger in prayer, using those words. I have practiced it in quiet times of devotion, sitting by the ocean, and at my desk during the work day. It is an exercise that travels.

What helps me linger is being aware of my breath and making my breathing a part of the praying. The fathers and mothers of spiritual disciplines have noted that breathing and prayer are closely related. Once, I heard a director comfort a young woman who was insecure in her prayer life that she should remember that “if you are breathing, you are praying.”

I offer instructions for each of the phrases. You should feel free to adopt it to your own rhythm but do breathe deeply and slowly. Take your time hold each breath a few seconds as you ponder the suggested thoughts or others that come to your mind.

First, take a moment to recognize that the Spirit is indeed present. Right here, right now.

Breathe in. Ask the Lord to help you pray, remembering that this prayer was given as a response to the disciples asking Jesus to teach them to pray.

Breathe out. “Our Father, who art in heaven,” As you breathe out, send your prayer out, calling on our Father who draws us into his presence.

Breathe in. “hallowed be thy name.” Take in God’s transforming holiness.

Breathe out. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done” Make your petition to the one whose will is prefect love.

Breathe in. “on earth, as it is in heaven.” As you breathe in, take in the Spirit. Take God’s will into your heart, a child of the earth, a part of creation.

Breathe out. “Give us this day” Release your petition to the one who graciously gives us all that we need.
Breathe in. “our daily bread.” Take in the living bread of life.

Breathe out. “And forgive us our trespasses,” Prayer to the one who delights in mercy and forgivness.

Breathe in. “as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Receive forgiveness and receive the power to forgive.

Breathe out. “And lead us not into temptation,” Remember that you are praying to the Good Shepherd.

Breathe in. “but deliver us from evil.” Receive the life changing Spirit of God.

Breathe out. “For thine is the kingdom, and the power, the glory,” Make this your statement of faith. Breathe out for the world what you believe.

Breathe in. “forever.” Breathe in eternal and abundant life.

Breathe out. “Amen.” Amen.