So, the confirmation class is rolling. And I’m looking ahead at the work we’re doing. We’re coming up on some interesting conversations like: If we’re equal parts sinner and saint—created in the Imago Dei (image of God) yet total sinners—how can we be both?
 
Do we take that literally and can we see God just by looking in the mirror? Do we take on the sinner part literally? 
 
Is it all metaphor for spiritual image, spiritual sin? Or what?
 
What is sin, anyway? Doing bad things? Breaking the “rules”? 
 
You see the problem. And what’s always fascinated me about the “Presbyterian conversation” is that we are most often left with more questions than answers. Almost always. We are constantly taking things apart and putting them back together again.
 
This is the kind of work we’re doing in the confirmation class! 
 
We’re forcing some adulting—finding our place on the spiritual growth spectrum. 
 
I like to say that God sees us “perfect in our imperfection.” 
 
God = Love
 
Love = God
 
Always in all ways. 
 
It’s a gift that we can’t do anything to earn. It’s on us to accept it. It’s there before we even know it. Saying it another way, God’s prevenient grace just “is.” 
 
So, a couple parting shots courtesy of Richard Rohr—boom! And boom!
 
When you looked at me
Your eyes imprinted your grace in me;
For this you loved me ardently;
And thus my eyes deserved
To adore what they behold in you.
. . . And let us go forth to behold ourselves in your beauty.
--John of the Cross (1542–1591)
 
Religion, from the root “religio,” means to reconnect, to bind back together…In a very real sense, the word “God” is just a synonym for everything. So if you do not want to get involved with everything, stay away from God. - RR
 
I’ll just leave it right there.
 
Grace & Peace,
Scott

​By now you know that I’m a life-long lover of rock music—even worked in the radio or music business for 20 years. It’s never very far away. There’s almost always a song playing in my head. It’s a gift and a curse. I live to my own little soundtrack.
 
Maybe you do too, sometimes. Songs can take us right back to our times and places, to the people we love—to the good, the bad, and yes, the ugly too. 
 
Songs and real rock stars used to speak truth to power. They used to speak into our culture, into our lives, and into our issues holding a mirror up to us. They helped us see ourselves. And music flows out of us in all ways if we’re just listening.
 
Listen to the voices. Listen to the stories. Listen for the tension between fear and courage. Listen to the music of the stories, even as you may hear them in a justice or political key.
 
While I was away on vacation, Dave Loth preached on the story of Esther. Go read the book—it won’t take long. It’s in the Old Testament. Open any Bible right at the middle and chances are pretty good you’ll land in the Psalms (a songbook of music). Flip backwards a few pages beyond Job and you will find the story of Ester.
 
Listen to her music. It’s the story of a young, orphaned woman who finds her voice. Ester speaks truth to power in a place and time where women had virtually nothing. No standing. No cred. Nothing. She saves an entire nation! And the holiday of Purim is to keep her memory alive. To keep her music alive. 
 
I’ve been watching this docu-drama on the Monica Lewinsky scandal. I’ve been reading about her, listening to podcasts with her, and watching other documentaries on shaming. Her life was nearly destroyed by it. 
 
I’m listening to her music. Her story is amazing and fascinating and heartbreaking. She has overcome. She has found her footing. She has found her voice. And she’s making music.
 
She’s another voice in the chorus of today’s women in #MeToo, #TimesUp, #EnoughisEnough. They’re hearing a drumbeat—a rhythm of freedom and empowerment to share their song, to share their pain, to keep time together. There’s safety in numbers. There’s power in numbers. There’s power in the music.
 
It’s a heartbreaking song.
Listen to the music.
 
I read a poem some time ago in Richard Rohr’s devotional (Google is your friend here) in a piece that wasn’t really to do with this. But I hear it in my head. I keep hearing its music.
 
In Exodus, Moses asks God “Who shall I tell the people who sent me? What’s your name?” God’s answer: “I AM WHO I AM…you shall say, I AM has sent me.” 
The great I AM.
 
So, this poem is inspired by this power of God in us—the I AM in each one of us. The I AM that gives us our music.

I am
a hole in a flute
that the Christ’s breath moves through--
listen to this
music.*

​This poem sings to me in a major key in the midst of so many—too many—heartbreaking songs that make me angry. But it’s empowering, it’s emboldening, it’s encouraging. 
 
Listen for the beat in the tension between fear and courage. 
Listen to the music.
Be the music.
 
Grace and Peace,
Scott
 
*Daniel Ladinsky, inspired by Hafiz, “The Christ’s Breath,” Love Poems from God: Twelve Sacred Voices from the East and West (Penguin Compass: 2002)

​Allergies are weird stuff and I have been in denial for years.
 
I never had much trouble with allergies growing up and in my young adult life. Never a problem for me. I didn’t know how lucky I was.
 
My friends? Not so much. Runny noses, watery eyes, sneezing, coughing, lost voices. The whole nine.
 
I just didn’t know how lucky I was. 
 
Until now.  
 
I read something somewhere some years ago that as our body chemistry changes with aging, so do our immunities and defense mechanisms. I was in denial about that, too.
 
Until now.
 
Just the past couple days—maybe it’s the cooler nights? The yellows and the reds are coming out. I’m noticing leaves starting to drop. Cue the Led Zeppelin: “Leaves are falling all around, time I was on my way…”
And here it comes—I’m sure it’s coming. 
 
I get a week in the spring and a week in the fall that’s never really been the same. Like, I can’t point at some severe thing. It varies. But I know it’s coming. 
 
No, it’s not any worse in New Jersey than Oklahoma. Feeling a little stopped up, scratchy throat, a little runny nose. Probably something Benadryl can handle. Just enough to be annoying, never miserable. 
 
Anyway, I still love fall. I love the change of seasons and I usually try to stop several times daily to look for God and what God’s doing. Sometimes I’m listening. Sometimes watching. Sometimes praying (not enough). Sometimes I get through a day or several days without any of it. But mostly I really do try and do that.
 
Even in the allergies! They’re coming. And maybe that is God’s way of slowing me down, reminding me who’s “got this”. Which, to be perfectly honest, is pretty annoying—surely there’s another way to get my attention! 
 
Having said that, if this is all it takes and if this is as bad as it gets, I need to quit whining and get over it. Today’s worry is enough for today. Sound familiar?
 
Fall is here and God’s definitely got this—the rest is up to you and me. 
 
Grace and Peace,
Scott

​So, I’m just coming back to work today (Sept. 29) after a couple vacation weeks. For me, vacation is almost always a mountaintop experience. And you probably know by now that I get up really early every day. Even on vacation! I never set an alarm anymore because I go to bed when I’m tired and I get up when I’m done. It’s that simple. Every day. 
 
Still—early every morning, I have a little devotional routine that I follow, and I read my regular stuff. First comes the Bible—The Daily Lectionary, then it’s Richard Rohr, J. Philip Newell, Phyllis Tickle, and I gravitate off and on over the years to Oswald Chambers.
 
Now, Oswald Chambers is very old school, but no less relevant. Sometimes he rings my bell louder than others and later this week (Friday Oct 1) it’s one that never fails. See if you don’t get it, too. 

The Place of Exaltation

…Jesus took…them up on a high mountain apart by themselves… — Mark 9:2

We have all experienced times of exaltation on the mountain, when we have seen things from God’s perspective and have wanted to stay there. But God will never allow us to stay there. The true test of our spiritual life is in exhibiting the power to descend from the mountain. If we only have the power to go up, something is wrong. It is a wonderful thing to be on the mountain with God, but a person only gets there so that he may later go down and lift up the demon-possessed people in the valley (see Mark 9:14-18). We are not made for the mountains, for sunrises, or for the other beautiful attractions in life— those are simply intended to be moments of inspiration. We are made for the valley and the ordinary things of life, and that is where we have to prove our stamina and strength. Yet our spiritual selfishness always wants repeated moments on the mountain. We feel that we could talk and live like perfect angels, if we could only stay on the mountaintop. Those times of exaltation are exceptional and they have their meaning in our life with God, but we must beware to prevent our spiritual selfishness from wanting to make them the only time.
 
We are inclined to think that everything that happens is to be turned into useful teaching. In actual fact, it is to be turned into something even better than teaching, namely, character. The mountaintop is not meant to teach us anything, it is meant to make us something. There is a terrible trap in always asking, “What’s the use of this experience?” We can never measure spiritual matters in that way. The moments on the mountaintop are rare moments, and they are meant for something in God’s purpose.

Welcome, my friend. Come on down! We’re walking and talking and living this life that is Life and guess what?
Nobody’s a perfect angel. 
 
“Trust me,” says Jesus. 
It’s cool. 
We’re all down here in the valley—and we’ve got you. 
 
Grace and Peace,
Scott

​Everybody knows this Saturday’s the 20th Anniversary of 9/11. The greatest tragedy ever to strike our country. Literally, the crime of the century right here on our own soil! Right here in our front yard.

This generation’s Pearl Harbor. Not some distant island paradise—a fuel stop in the Pacific ocean. Hawaii wasn’t even a state yet. It was outrageous! A totally unprovoked attack with tragic American casualties. And, the United States—who wasn’t ever gonna do it again—the United States entered World War II. 

But, 9/11? This time it is different, isn’t it?  Mainland America has been attacked and now we’re fighting a whole different kind of war. Half-way around the world and right here at home.  

Some of those terrorists did flight training in my home state of Oklahoma! Are you kidding me?

Everybody remembers where they were, what they were doing, who they were with and how they reacted on that Tuesday morning. Everybody is still stung, still grieving for those we lost. Everybody here knows somebody, has some connection. 

Not gonna lie—time has helped and I’m trying, but I’m still bitter about it. Still struggling and maybe you are too! It’s frustrating!

It’s not just the tremendous loss of life that day. The innocence of the victims, the crews and passengers on the planes, the World Trade Center, The Pentagon, Shanksville, Pennsylvania. The first responders trying to get people out unaware the buildings were going to collapse. It still breaks my heart every time I hear Bruce Springsteen “The Rising.” 

So, we’re finally out of Afghanistan—with even more casualties of the seemingly endless “war on terror” that really went nowhere. The pull out was never going to be easy or smooth, no matter what. It just underscores the high price that our soldiers and their families paid—for what?

It breaks my heart!
Sadaam Hussein is gone. Do you feel safer? 
We got Osama Bin Laden. Do you feel safer? 
We tortured prisoners at Guantanamo Bay! Do you feel safer? 
We instituted travel bans on Muslims. Do you feel safer?
We built more walls on the southern border. Do you feel safer?

20 years ago, this country came together. We were really the United States, right? United States of America! But, not anymore! 

9/11 and the fall-out, racism, the pandemic, and polarizing politics have split us apart. It runs so much deeper than party lines—the chasms—and there are many. We can’t even come together and fight the pandemic together. 

C’mon! It’s been 20 years now—and the divide has never been wider. How do we move forward? 

I’ve always been a big Eagles fan—you know, Don Henley is a great songwriter. And one of his songs is called the Heart of the Matter. 

As I sit and ruminate on 9/11 and everything since, that song just keeps running through my head over and over. I can’t get it out. It’s about lost love and damaged relationships. But these words ring so true:

I'm learning to live without you now
But I miss you sometimes
The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, I'm learning again
I've been tryin' to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
These times are so uncertain
There's a yearning undefined
...People filled with rage
We all need a little tenderness

How can love survive in such a graceless age?
The trust and self-assurance that can lead to happiness
They're the very things we kill, I guess
Better put it all behind you; life goes on…
You keep carryin' that anger, it'll eat you up inside
I've been tryin' to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But everything changes
And my friends seem to scatter
But I think it's about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don't love me anymore.

Forgiveness. That’s how we move forward. As hard as that is. Don Henley is right. Gotta put it all behind. If we keep carrying this anger, it’s eating us up—from the inside out. 
It will destroy us. 

So I’m trying—still.
And I pray that you are, too.
Grace & Peace,
Scott

From my heart friends—thank you.            
 
My brother John died last week of liver failure related to alcohol.
 
While his passing wasn’t unexpected, it’s never easy for anybody. Our friends, my parents, my siblings all came back together to hang out and tell stories. Fun with each other through the bittersweet tears of grief and joy. Pictures, videos, stories.
 
John didn’t want a service—but we were all determined to be together anyway. Too bad, so sad, man. We had to.
 
Thank you for your understanding of my last-minute trips to Oklahoma these past few weeks to spend as much time with him as possible before he was gone. And then to laugh, cry, and tell a few stories with the best of them. Thank you so much!
 
My brother John was a piece of work! In the best sense of that, a real character. Rock & roll radio DJ, concert and community event planner and promoter, project manager. John was a “get-er-done” guy!
 
I used to joke that just his Rolodex—okay, a dated reference—just the contacts in his phone were worth tens of thousands on somebody’s payroll. You know that kind of person. John knew everybody.
 
No strangers in John’s world. He would do anything for you. Anything. He worked hard. He played harder!

He played so hard it killed him.
You all—to a person—you all would have loved him.
 
Thank you for your prayers, for the texts, and calls. Thank you for caring for me as much as I care for you. This is who we are, and I thank you. I thank God for all of you.
 
If you’re struggling with drink or anything, you’ve got people. Right here, right now.
We’re here for you. I’m here for you. Whatever we can do to help. I will.
As John would say, “Ain’t no thing chicken wing!”
It’s what we do.
 
Grace & Peace,
Scott
 
 

When he returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported that he was at home. So many gathered around that there was no longer room for them, not even in front of the door; and he was speaking the word to them. Then some people came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. And when they could not bring him to Jesus because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him; and after having dug through it, they let down the mat on which the paralytic lay. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”  — From Mark 2 (NRSV)

I’m at the church early on Tuesday mornings and I am startled by a big jolt to the Community House around 7:30 today.

Boom, boom, thump, step, step, step. There is a huge ruckus on the roof! I jump up from the desk and head to the front door—blocked by a big piece of plywood. I look out the windows and other big pieces of plywood surround the building to protect the windows. Big tarps hang off the side of the building. All this in a matter of a few minutes.

There’s a whole team!
The roofing guys are here! 
Digging through the roof. 

Maybe some of them are trying to get to Jesus—and I appreciate that. Can’t help but think of this story from Mark. But I know they are digging through the roof on the Community House to replace it. 

It’s all a part of the plan. The last roof replacements took place in the 90's when preparing for our 250th Anniversary in 1997. (thanks for the history, Steve!) 

I’m sure some of you are aware that both roofs have been leaking at some point for years now. We’ve done some stopgap repairs in those years that made things better, but obviously we were just putting off the inevitable replacement. We even prayed to dodge a bullet with the massive rainfall over the last couple days from Hurricane Henri (if you speak French, you know and understand how to say that right.) But, dodge the bullet we did not!

They were supposed to start the roofing project yesterday and ended up calling the day a rain-out because it was expected to rain all day Monday. Didn’t turn out to be so—yet, it still rained so much all day and night Sunday, and half of yesterday. It rained enough that the waters came digging through the roof (again) all on their own before the repair work even began!

No, I do not suspect the rain water is living water digging its way through the roof to get to Jesus. That’s not even a good dad joke. And I never thought about building a boat—another bad dad joke. My kids will be mortified if they read this!

Nevertheless, I do think the contractors are digging through the roof so people can get to Jesus. A new roof ensures that the Fairmount Presbyterian Church Community House will live to get people to Jesus for the next generation. It’s part of the plan.

So be watching your inbox and mailbox for communication from session about the mini-capital campaign we’re doing to finance it. We need your help with this. Can’t do it without you. We’ve just gotta!

We’re not the first, and we won’t be the last--
Digging through the roof to get people to Jesus. 
Call me crazy, but it’s what we do.

Peace,
Scott

The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while." For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. — From Mark 6 (NRSV)         
 
We’ve taken a little left-turn off the Gospel track of Mark this year to John Chapter 6. This Sunday is the last of the 5 weeks on the Bread of Life. It’s deep and it’s dense. It’s John’s Gospel. Very strange metaphorical images. Some really challenging things come from Jesus in this Gospel. Remember, the Gospels teach us about Jesus. And Jesus teaches us about God.
 
But timing-wise in summer, we miss some things from Mark’s Gospel by taking the little John detour. Mark is more direct than John.
 
Even Jesus knows the need for summer vacation. But, if you remember in Mark’s story, the disciples and Jesus don’t get any rest. The crowds see them going and rush and hurry to beat them to their destination. And we’re not talking about a small crowd. It’s 5000 plus the women and children. No small thing as we’ve learned in John 6.
 
It might be tempting to say that Jesus and the disciples aren’t very good at enforcing their boundaries, but that’s a modern construct. Just like we can’t pick up the Bible stories and drop them in our current times applying them literally. That’s problematic. We also can’t take our modern values and impose them on the stories in Jesus’ time, either.
 
But it’s still clear that Jesus often tries to find moments of peace to pray, think, listen, and be still. We can find many instances in all the Gospels. That’s an important example to follow. We do need moments of peace to find clarity of thought and purpose, especially now. Otherwise the white noise and clutter of our world distracts us.
 
If you’re anything like me, it takes days in a row to really unplug, right? Like it’s my experience that if I’m taking a week off, it takes until at least the third day before my shoulders completely droop in relaxation. I hope it’s less time for you! After that, it’s easy to chill especially if I’m in one of the places where I feel closest to God—beach or mountains, thank you very much! This year, my vacation is coming way late—the last two weeks in September. I’m praying hard that travel restrictions don’t come back.
 
Going on vacation feels to me like it did when I was still in school with the whole summer ahead. Remember what that is like? That’s what freedom feels like, I guess. I don’t know how else I would explain that, but I know this: it’s amazing!
 
So I continue to wonder if we can capture that feeling year round in moments of peace and tranquility with God. Can we find space in the calendar and a literal space to be in our world where we can grab a piece of the peace? Even for a little bit?
 
Maybe it’s at lunchtime. Get out of the house—get away from Zoom. Find the shade of a big tree for a few minutes in the car. I see people doing this all the time. Cops, mail carriers, electricians, UPS drivers. You get the idea. I can’t be sure they’re spending their time listening for God, but at least they seem to be at peace. An old friend of mine calls these “little vacations.” The Spirit will move on its own, no doubt.
           
“Holy God, open our lens to see you and be with you even in small time bites. We’ll take all the little vacations we can get! Let our souls and spirits fly into your mystic.* Let your Spirit come. Amen!”
 
Grace and Peace, 
Scott
 
*Van Morrison, thank you for the image!
 

​You may know by now that I read Richard Rohr every day. I’ll spell out the links at the bottom for those of you who get this on paper via snail mail. Father Richard is just part of my routine. Every. Day. I love the guy.
 
He always loops key partners into the conversation. People like Jacqui Lewis, my lead mentor in my doctoral program at Drew. Thomas Merton. He pulls in staff members from his Center for Action and Contemplation. It’s always great.
 
So, Saturday’s Richard is always a re-cap of the previous week. A couple-three lines from each day Monday through Friday and then—he usually focuses on a practice. A couple Saturdays ago, the practice was Stillness.
 
Stillness is something I really have to work at. I’m sure you can imagine. I have to focus.
 
Anyway, this practice is simple.
 
Pull out the Bible and look up Psalm 46:10:
 
“Be still and know that I am God.”
 
One of the things they do at the CAC is a little prayer gathering every day and they meditate on this verse by going through it several times. Each time, they remove a word or two. They take away with each repetition until there is nothing left but stillness.
 
Wow!
​

Be still and know that I am God.

Be still and know that I am.

Be still and know that.

Be still and know.

Be still.
​
Be.
​

​Go ahead…Be.
 
Grace & Peace,
Scott
 
 
Richard’s Daily Devotional: https://cac.org/category/daily-meditations/
Saturday, July 31: https://cac.org/crisis-contemplation-weekly-summary-2021-07-31/
 

​I hate to say it.
Really.
I’m so over it.
 
This Delta variant is causing our numbers to go back up, even here in New Jersey where most adults are vaccinated. There are break-through cases even here. There is no data that says vaccinated people can’t transmit the virus (Delta especially) and no kids have the vaccine yet so--
 
CDC guidance recommends masking again in public places. Highlands Presbytery guidance has never recommended doing away with the masks although they know most of our congregations relaxed the masking requirement weeks ago. I went to ShopRite out where I live yesterday and didn’t see anyone without a mask. People are paying attention. People are caring for each other.
 
We should too.
I know that nobody wants to be the cause of an outbreak.
Not even one person!
 
So, out of care for each other here in Fairmount world—let’s return to masking in church. Please.
 
We’re still going to be on Facebook Live, we’ll still be Zooming for the Bible study, we’ll still offer Zoom for session, too.
 
Just trying to do our part to stay vigilant.
I’m just as tired of it as you are. Maybe more.
I’m a hugger. COVID is killing me!
 
Pandemic fatigue be damned, we’ve gotta do this.
We take care of each other. It’s what we do.
Fairmount is a kind, caring, compassionate community.
You are.
 
Grace & Peace,
Scott