​My handwriting. Ick!
It’s horrible.

Not that I ever was any good at penmanship anyway, but do kids these days even learn how to write in cursive anymore? Since my kids are way grown, I’m way out of the loop on elementary education. Do they still even hand write assignments anymore, or has keyboarding changed the model?

I’m sure I’ve told you—I keep a journal of my prayers every day. I almost never miss a day and it’s a part of my morning quiet time. My routine is: The Daily Lectionary, Richard Rohr, J. Philip Newell, Phyllis Tickle, some blogs, etc. But there’s always a prayer journal entry at the end. Always? Well on the rare occasion, I may not actually fill in an entry but there’s at least a notation in my Moleskine for every day.

I don’t bother to write in cursive anymore because I print everything in all caps. Now, I realize that when you’re using a keyboard, “ALL CAPS” IS LIKE SCREAMING. But in handwriting, it’s not so off-putting. Even my all-caps printing is hard to read because my handwriting is so sloppy. Well, these are my prayers anyway, so God probably doesn’t have any problem with the handwriting. It’s authentic and I tell myself God likes it that way. 

Not that long ago, I actually pay attention and I notice my sloppy writing. It’s terrible! That day’s prayer starts out with what looks to me like “AMAZING GOO…” 
And I’m kinda snickering.
​
Imagine my cartoon thought bubble:
 “Goo? Goo, you know what I mean, right?”
Amazing.
​
God/Goo.
Goo/God.
You know what I mean.
You know who you are.
And you know that I know that, too.
So anyway, you’re still amazing.
I’m sure you get a huge kick out of a goofball like me anyway. It must be entertaining. Made in your image, eh? If this is really your image for me, I can only imagine how funny you think you are. 
Reminds me of the old saying, “We make plans and God laughs.” 
You know me.
I know you.
Something tells me that you have quite a bit more to laugh about than we know.
Amazing Goo.
Whatever your name is…you probably don’t have to read it.
 
You.
Are.
Still.
Just.                            
Amazing.
 
Grace & Peace,
Scott

**Please note: I’m going on vacation after Christmas Eve so the blog and the Focus are going on hiatus until Jan. 12, too. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Interesting change in weather patterns, probably connected to global warming, but I never realized we get tornados here in New Jersey until I moved here. A couple years ago, one rips through Madison where I’m living at the time. It touches down, goes back up, touches down, back up, and touches down again a few times almost randomly hitting and skipping neighborhoods. It leaves trees down everywhere and millions in damages to many homes in the area.
 
And it is only an EF1. The lowest rating for tornado strength on the scale.
 
My accent sometimes betrays me. I come from Oklahoma, the buckle of the tornado belt. Tornados are a way of life there. You pay attention. You take shelter. You get out of the way. Or not. 
 
In May of 2013, I’m doing a wedding in El Reno, Oklahoma and the entire wedding party huddles in the dank and damp basement of the old post office waiting out what turns out to be the largest tornado on record. This one is an EF6. And it grazes the downtown area—it tracks less than a mile away! Close call for us.  
 
It is as devastating as you can imagine. More. The aerial news photography shows a mile-wide swatch of land where you can only see streets, driveways, and foundations where the neighborhoods used to be. I don’t remember how many people die.  
 
Nothing is left—everything is swept away and strewn across the state. 
 
And so it goes with the EF3 tornados that struck Kentucky and the mid-South this weekend. The death count keeps rising as they find more people. If you’ve seen any of the coverage you know—it’s just as bad as you can imagine. 
 
So I’m sure you wonder—every time disaster strikes—I’m sure you wonder, “what can I do?”
 
With Sandy not really that long ago—everybody here knows the destruction and damage left in the wake of a hurricane. Out in the Tornado Belt, it’s not a matter of what, but when disaster strikes. 
 
In Oklahoma, we established a permanent committee just to traffic the disaster response agencies and to speed the process of getting aid to the people who need it most. Otherwise, you gotta reorganize a committee and reinvent the wheel every time. It wastes valuable time and resources when people need the most help.
 
What can we do? The temptation is to collect clothing, household goods, toiletries, water, etc. But the fact is, on the ground? All that stuff ends up getting in the way. 
 
I remember seeing walls of pallets of bottled water months after tornados. One of my pastor friends was still trying to give away the 200 shovels somebody sent her church. “Please take a shovel! What am I gonna do with 200 shovels?” 
 
One thing I learned—I personally witnessed our own Presbyterian Disaster Assistance (PDA) in action. PDA is really effective, nimble, and on site. They are excellent at getting to the table with Red Cross and FEMA and the other faith-based aid organizations channeling resources to affected areas. They are great at it!
 
So, the best thing we can do when disaster strikes—whether it’s Kentucky, the coast of Florida, Puerto Rico, or right down the shore—the best thing we can do is give money to PDA or the Red Cross. They tap their vast network of volunteers and mobilize right away. Our money goes right to the heart of the disaster with efficient and cost-effective resources and humanitarian response.
 
It’s the most effective way to fund EXACTLY what’s needed EXACTLY where it is needed. 
 
What can we do?
 
Pray.
 
Send money to PDA.
 
And, if you really want to get into it, volunteer.
            
Grace & Peace,   
Scott

Bruce Springsteen is a national treasure. Poet. Prophet. Rock star.
 
Regular guy.
 
He was the first show to open on Broadway since COVID. If you’ve ever gotten a chance to see Springsteen over the years, you know exactly what I’m talking about. They put the first version of his Broadway show out on Netflix a few years ago, so check it out and watch it if you can. No really, watch this show!
 
If you love Springsteen already, you’ll love him even more. And even if you don’t love him, you will get to know him. He’s as real as it gets. Raw. What you see is what you get.
 
We know he’s a magnificent story-teller just from the music and the band, and all those years on the road. 1 plus 1 equals 3 for the E. Street Band. The whole is so much greater than the sum of its parts. He gives all the credit to the band. 
 
But without the songs? Without the stories? Without these paintings, it’s just a good band with a great front man.
 
It’s all about the songs. The stories. How he paints the pictures. 
And he says “this is my magic trick.” 
 
He’s never worked in a factory—he wrote all those songs about screaming down the highway and “Born to Run” and he couldn’t even drive a car! He’s quippy about never working 5 days a week “until now.” Until he did the Broadway show. 
 
So, he makes up the stories, but he’s very clear about who he is. Rock star, yes. But a regular guy who gets lonely, has depression, father, husband, all that. This is the picture he paints in the Broadway show. It’s a live autobiography. And he’s raw, vulnerable, real. It’s all about how he paints the pictures. 
 
I’ve been thinking and praying a lot lately about what we’re doing here. We’re doing our first discernment event this Sunday. We’re going to create a timeline of the people, events, and missions in our recent history that got us here. We’re going to hear you paint your pictures of our church. How we got here—where we are. Right here. Right now.
 
Knowing where we’ve been will tell us a lot about where we need to go. Who we need to lead us and the gifts and skills they will need. How do we start painting our next story board? 
 
How are we painting the picture?
What does that look like?
 
Well, it looks like us. You and me. Doing our best to walk the walk. Perfect in our imperfections. Love God. Love your neighbor. 
 
All that. 
Just be.
 
This whole “Jesus thing” was lifestyle long before it was church. Long before it became a belief system. I asked the kids in confirmation class what Jesus would make of the church. Not just our church, but the whole thing. What it’s become. What would Jesus think of what the church has become? What’s the picture we’re painting?
 
Here’s where I’m going:
 
Reclaim the lifestyle. 
 
Let’s be church—connect to the community and each other by loving God and loving each other, just like Jesus says. Listen to Jesus to the exclusion of everything else. Just be. Take care of each other. 
 
It’s not a magic trick. 
It’s just being real.
Perfect in our imperfection. 
 
Maybe it’s not about the pictures we’re painting.
What about how we’re painting?
 
Merry Christmas!
 
Grace and peace,
Scott