National DCE Day

Yesterday was National DCE Day.  The Lutheran Church Missouri Synod observes the day each year as a way of recognizing the ministries of Directors of Christian Education.  DCE’s are commissioned ministers within the LCMS. 

I sorta came into DCE ministry through the side door.  I like to joke that I flunked student teaching, but the truth is God put me exactly where I needed to be.  Along with my wife, Barb, I graduated from Concordia-River Forest in 1969.  There were over twenty calls for DCE's and only two were graduating from the program.  The fact that I had a minor in youth ministry made me a likely candidate. 

In many ways I was one of the round pegs they put into a square hole; lots of gaps around the edge.  I served four congregations as a parish DCE and then spent two years on staff with the Texas District.  I finished out my full-time ministry as school counselor at Lutheran High School of Dallas.  In retirement, I am a writer/consultant equipping others for ministry in this challenging time.  I am now, and always have been, proud to say I am a DCE!

I have had great mentors, starting with Dr. Stephen Schmidt who headed the youth ministry program at Concordia.  Along the way I had fellow DCE’s who came along side me.  During my Northern Illinois days Larry Brandt, Jack Giles and Mark Diefenthaler come to mind.  Since moving to Texas in 1988 I have also been surrounded by a great support system.  Ron Scherch, Doug Widger, Serena Pace and especially Dave Rahberg come to mind.  On a district level I valued the ministry of Rev. Bill Ameiss, Dr. Keith Loomans and Paul Krentz.

 

I have been blessed. 

Seeing the Blessings of COVID-19

Music has always been a big part of my world, which explains why Alexa has become such a blessing.  The Amazon Alexa was a Christmas gift from our oldest son Peter and his family.   His intent was that it be a link when they moved from Texas to the east coast.  Indeed, it has.  It is not uncommon to hear Alexa beep and then to see his image appear on the screen.  Most of the time he is just checking in. 

Little did I know when I plugged in my Alexa that it would become the soundtrack of my life.  I can program the music to fit my mood.  Alexa play Johnny Mathis and similar artist… Alexa play Journey and similar artist….  Alexa play Trisha Yearwood and similar artist…  When I am writing or doing research my preference is soft Christian contemporary music; Kari Jobe, Nichole Nordeman or Laura Story.  It is one particular song that has become a godsend as I navigate this strange new world that I am living in.  The song is Blessings by Laura Story.

“‘Cause what if your blessings come through raindrops

What if Your healing comes through tears

What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near

What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise.”

The pandemic has rocked my world and altered my life in a way I could never imagine.  Every time I take a personality inventory it confirms the fact that I am an introvert.  As such you would think I would find the opportunity to shelter at home a boon.  I have more time to read, to write and do research.  But… I do need people in my life.  Granted, I can call people on my cell phone or even zoom conference with them, but there is no intimacy in that.  I long for a hug.  I want to see people face to face and laugh and cry with them.  The reality of the current situation is that is not going to happen until we can find a cure for COVID-19.  I can ask God to take this away but the reality is His is response seems to be “In my time, my son.”

That’s where the song comes in.  The song has been around for years.  Laura Story won a Grammy for Blessings in 2012.  I know I had heard the song countless times, but in my current context I was drawn to it.  It caused me to do some research and, in the process, I found the history behind the song.  Blessings was created out of circumstance.  Shortly after her marriage, her husband, Martin Elvington, was diagnosed with a brain tumor.  While Martin recovered, it has been a journey and he continues to struggle with the effects.  In the process Laura Story admits she has asked God, “Why don’t you just fix it.”  It was her sister who put things into perspective with the words, “You know, I think the detour is actually the road."

It has forced me to put a different spin on my current situation.  Perhaps this pandemic is a sign of God’s love and mercy.  I need to dwell in that.  Maybe this is God’s way of slowing me down and actually drawing me closer to Him.  Instead of praying for a solution, perhaps I need to be focusing on the peace and hope that I have in Jesus.  The things of this world are fleeting, but His love for me is eternal.

God’s Reality Check

“The words from the Lord to Joshua the son of Nun, Moses’ assistant.  Moses my servant is dead.  Now therefore arise, go over this Jordan, you and all this people into the land that I am giving to them, to the people of Israel.”

Joshua 1:1a-2

What a dose of reality!  Moses is dead… You are in charge.  I have to wonder what went through Joshua’s mind as he considered the task ahead.  “Mr. Second Fiddle” was now the leader of the band.  His assignment was to lead a million plus people into a strange new world.  Sure, God called it “The Promise Land” but the truth was no one knew what to expect.  God used words like “flowing with milk and honey” but he also included the reality that it was currently occupied by the Canaanites, the Hittites and other folks who were not going to be real cooperative when it came to allowing foreigners to move in. 

There was also the baggage that this wandering tribe carried with them.  They carried the memories of four hundred years of living comfortably in Egypt.  Granted, they were forced to live under the rules and demands of Pharaoh but still their needs were met.  They had even grown to accept the reality of living in tents as they camped out in the wilderness for forty years.  Again, they had become accustomed to the certainty of manna in the morning and quail in the evening.  Crossing the Jordan River and entering a strange new world was scary.  They were warned that there were battles ahead and they were a wandering tribe, not a mighty army. 

And Joshua was called to be their leader…

I have thought about Joshua a lot in the last few weeks.  Like others, I have been wandering in the wilderness that is the reality sheltering at home during a pandemic.  We were only a few weeks into the COVID-19 crisis when my Uncle Don died from the virus.  That was a blow to me because since the death of my dad, Uncle Don was the oldest surviving male in the family.  Uncle Don was a World War II veteran who never married. He lived in the same neighborhood on the east side of Detroit.  It was like having a second dad.  For the last sixteen years he was the patriarch I looked to for wisdom and encouragement.  Granted, he lived over a thousand miles away, but just knowing he was a phone call away gave me some security.  I cherished the times we were together.  I never grew tired to listening to his stories and hearing of his experiences.

Like Joshua, I had a certain sense of fear when I heard the words, “Uncle Don is dead.” There is a certain burden that comes with being the oldest surviving male in a family.  While we are spread far and wide across this great country, we are still a close-knit clan.  I am the oldest of four siblings.  God has blessed Barb and I with three children and four grandchildren.  I sense that they look to me both for wisdom but also a listening ear.  It is a responsibility I take seriously.

I most certainly feel that weight as we venture into the “new world” that will be post COVID-19.  I cherish the memories of the past.  I carry the remembrances of the years of being in ministry, while also raising a family.  In retirement I have sense the need to pass the heritage of faith and values to those around me.  Perhaps I became too comfortable in that role.  Whatever security I felt was rocked on the second weekend in March,  That is when, for the first time, I was forced to shelter at home and worship online, separated from the church family I hold dear.  It was too weeks later, with my Uncle’s passing, that I felt the full weight of the situation.

There is more to Joshua’s story.  With the reality of his new world came a command; “Be strong and courageous…”  These were not words of encouragement or reassurance.  This was a mandate.  To move forward you will need this.  The future requires that you be strong and courageous.  Facing the new “post pandemic world” will require faith and courage as well.  All things of the past are behind us.  Going back to the comforts of Egypt was not an option for the Children of Israel.  Going back to the way it was before March 14 is not a possibility for me either.

The only assurance that I have is that same God who accompanied me in the past is with me now.  I continue to live under the grace and mercy of Jesus Christ. 

Black Lives Matter: Please Listen and Learn.

In my last blog I wrote why I see the Black Lives Matter protest to be different this time.  The seven days since that blog was posted have reinforced that perspective.  The intensity is still there and now, in some cases, law enforcement officers and civic leaders have even joined in the cry for change. 

I must admit that each day I become more frustrated with the current situation.  I am deeply disturbed on multiple levels.  I am troubled because the demonstrations are not going away, and in fact seem to be growing in numbers and intensity.  I distressed because some of the cries for change, like defunding police departments, do not make sense to me.  I am probably most distraught that this is happening in a time with I am forced to shelter at home.  I so long to be with people and to have the opportunity to be an agent for change.

Subsequently, I am using this time to broaden my knowledge.  I sincerely want to listen and understand.  Only when I can view things through the eyes of others can I in some minute way begin to grasp the “why” behind the voices for change.  Two podcasts in particular have impacted my life.  I would recommend you invest the watch them both.  You can find them on Youtube.  The first one is titled Y’all-itics-My Skin is not a Weapon.  It is a conversation between two Reporters from WFAA (the ABC affiliate in DFW) and four Black individuals.  Here is the link https://youtu.be/wi7JamnR2m4. The second is the most recent edition of Dale Earnhardt Junior’s Download podcast.  It features an interview with Bubba Wallace, the only current NASCAR driver who is Black. Here is the link, https://youtu.be/wi7JamnR2m4.

I appeal to you to please listen and learn.

The Racial Divide: Owning the Problem

I grew up attending a public elementary school where all my classmates were White.  There were ninety-seven members in my graduating class from Lutheran High School East, they were all White.  All the while I was living in a city that had a sizable and growing black population.  I went off to college and attended Concordia Teachers College where there were over four hundred in my graduating class; all of them were White.  Concordia was located in the Chicago suburb of River Forest, an all-white community.  We regularly journeyed into the City of Chicago, which was then as it is today, one of most ethically and racially diverse cities in the country. 

Over the years I served four different Lutheran Churches, all of them 100% White.  I taught in a Lutheran High School that while there was some diversity it hardly reflected the community where we were located.  In retirement I have continued to worship in communities where I am surrounded by people who are like me.  My context hardly reflects the ethnically and economically world that I live it. 

When I look at what is happening in our country right now, I have to admit that I am the problem. 

I spent a week in Minneapolis last summer attending the National Lutheran Youth Gathering.  I did a lot of walking and exploring.  It was easy to see that Minneapolis, like every other city in the country is an economically divided community.  Blocks away from the fancy restaurants, bars and food trucks were homeless encampments.  It was very obvious that law enforcement was strategically located to protect us from venturing into and seeing “other side” of Minneapolis.

 

 An article in this morning’s New York Times enlightened me to the extent of the problem. The gap in median income between Whites and Blacks in Minneapolis is the largest in the nation.  The average White household in Minneapolis has an income of $85,000, compared to $42,000 for Black households.  That is a greater disparity than in New Orleans, Cleveland and Chicago, cities that we normally associate with an economic divide.

The reality is that I must acknowledge my role in creating the problem.  My own silence and lack of action has contributed to the racial divide.  It must begin within the communities where we live and worship.  As Christians we must rise up and become voices that seek to understand and minister to the needs of people.  Until we do, we can only expect more rebellion and violence.  The love, compassion and grace of the Savior is the only thing that can heal this festering wound.