Pastor Don's Ponderings

What appears below is my most recent 'Pastor Don's Corner' article in the St. Paul UCC newsletter, The Caller. I pray you find it helpful on the journey. Blessings of Health, Strength and Faith in all your pondering! Pastor Don’s Corner . . . 23  When Jesus got into a boat, his disciples followed him.  24  A huge storm arose on the lake so that waves were sloshing over the boat. But Jesus was asleep.  25  They came and woke him, saying, “Lord, rescue us! We’re going to drown!” 26  He said to them, “Why are you afraid, you people of weak faith?” Then he got up and gave orders to the winds and the lake, and there was a great calm. 27  The people were amazed and said, “What kind of person is this? Even the winds and the lake obey him!”   Matthew 8:23-27 CEB Today I am thinking of stories which make me smile – and this story makes me smile. Imagine, if you can, Jesus as a child playing with the lightning in the same way other children might play with lightning bugs.

Thousands upon thousands of dollars have already been spent on replacement parts and maintenance, hundreds upon hundreds of hours have already been spent repairing equipment and servicing the tractors which will pull the equipment and hundreds of thousands of dollars of seed, fertilizers, herbicides and insecticides have been purchased and are waiting in the storehouses for use . . . and it continues to rain. You do not need a drone to check out the fields around here right now: They are wet. If you have ever wondered if people still pray, stand near a closed shed door with a farmer this time of year as another round of rain covers the earth. Oh, the rain may be pretty and the smell of a Spring rain may be absolutely intoxicating, but every thought, every word, which emanates from a farmer who is ready to start tillage and cannot because of rain is a prayer from their lips to God's ears.  Watch their eyes. They may look up as though checking the clouds but, truth be told, th

Do you remember how deep and foreboding the woods could be at night? Or maybe even a single tree, just when the light from the crescent moon illuminated the branches from the odd angle? Do you recall the sound of the coyotes howling into the darkness far down the field? Or the sound of raccoons fighting for dominance in the creek bed? Can you feel the tingle run up your spine when it felt like a hot breath breathing down your neck from behind as you walked, then ran towards the house with only the light in the faraway windows to guide you home? Or the goose pimples which covered your body as the wind, before the night rain, swept you towards safety? The words, "Do not be afraid", are said to be in the Bible 365 times. Yet, there are times when the last thing I am hearing in my parental/pastoral ears is, "Do not be afraid". Maybe it is not so much now, now that the woods and I have become companions, the various night sounds of animals give me comfort and wi

In June of 2017 Nancy and I had the good fortune to share in a trip with her brother, Bill, and his wife, Cathy, to visit their son and our nephew, Andrew, and his lovely wife, Christine, while they were stationed in Germany with the Air Force. Christine and Andrew had arranged time off to travel with us and planned a comprehensive and thorough trip around the country which included an overnight stay in the walled castle town of Rothenburg ob der Tauber. Rothenburg ob der Tauber, the red roofed city above the Tauber River, was officially founded in 1274, though its roots are believed to date back into the 10th century. It was an amazing place to visit and wander through the streets, shops, restaurants and on the covered wall which circles nearly the entire community, allowing the history and enduring beauty of this piece of God's creation to seep into your soul.  While there we had the good fortune to take a tour of the oldest part of the town near sunset of our first day. Gui

This is an open letter to the Lebanon Area Ministerial Council of Churches and some key Lebanon Leaders. Though the contents are for prayerful consideration in Lebanon, perhaps others in neighboring communities or states will resonate with some of that which we are attempting to do in meeting the needs of the present age. Please read on and, if you choose, share with others as is appropriate. God's richest blessings in this difficult and challenging time. My sisters and brothers in Christ’s Service, A blessed Wednesday to you all. There are a couple of things we need to have on the collective Table of the Lebanon Community Council of Churches: The United States Census forms are coming out. Your parishioners can fill them out and mail them in OR do them online. Either way, these forms are critical for the City of Lebanon in terms of funding, services and voices in legislative matters, both in our State and in our Nation. Be sure to underscore

When my 94 year old Dad tells stories about the Depression years and the time of rationing during WWII he inevitably ends up highlighting memory after memory of how people took care of people, family took care of family, and communities took care of each other. Yes, he talks about not having much, about how little money and resources were readily available and about how you made something out of nothing at all. Everything was kept to be reused in another way, nothing was thrown away and time was taken to mend, repair and restore . . . 'disposable' just was not an option. Yet, more than anything else of which he speaks regarding those times, Dad speaks of relationships: parents and children, neighbors and strangers, those who had something sharing with those who didn't . . . and the list goes on and on. Those were times which galvanized communities and families, times which shaped the collective spirit and imagination of nations and cultures, times which forged strength

Storms swept through the area a little while ago and, as I went out to check the rain gauge, a wry smile crossed my face as I wondered how this would be reported by the area farmers. Looking at the gauge I mused: The realist would report that we had eight tenths of an inch of rain; The optimist would report that we had eight tenths of an inch, yet the way the ditches were running we probably had a bit more than that, but the gauge just couldn't get an accurate measurement; and, The pessimist would report that we received less than an inch of rain, even though God knew we needed more in anticipation of Spring planting. It is all a matter of perspective, mixed with a sense of relationship to the dynamic world in which we live, and liberally side-dressed with enough 'one-ups-man-ship' so as to appear sufficiently knowledgeable without giving away an unspoken bias. How much rain a farmer either receives or needs at any one moment on the farm is generally directly related t

'FAMILY' IS THE VISION OF WHAT EVERYONE BECOMES WHEN WE ENTER THE KINGDOM. I AM ETERNALLY GRATEFUL THAT YOU AND I ARE PRIVILEGED TO EXPERIENCE THE VISION OF FAMILY HERE ON EARTH, A FORETASTE OF WHAT IS TO COME IN CHRIST. "On earth as it is in Heaven."

I saw my first blooming daffodils today along the road as I drove to work and immediately I began to smile. There is something about that first rush of color, that first yellow in the midst of browns and greens, that hope in the damp despair of a fading Winter scene, that optimism in the face of mounting incredulity . . . which captures my soul and warms my trembling heart.  Whatever one is thinking at the moment disappears, wherever one is looking in that instant before is lost in this 'Aha!' of wonderment, whatever one is perceiving in that millisecond of recognition is shattered by the open bloom of this strong and tender flower. Spring is asserting herself, Winter is moving away, bees are beginning to buzz and hibernation is coming to a close. The Kingdom emerges from the watery ground, Lazarus walks out of the tomb, Jairus' daughter rises from her death bed and Peter's mother-in-law stands up to serve them all, with a brilliant yellow daffodil leading the wa

Farming is a very solitary vocation, even while done in community. Just ask a farmer. This is Bob Lehman, a neighbor of ours just a few miles away. He and my Dad have known each other for years and, though none of the ground we farm adjoins Bob's, still he and we are members of that steadily shrinking number of folk who can claim that, indeed, they are farmers. The vocation names them together, the isolation identifies them singularly: They may all be doing the same task at the same time, but there is only one who farms the fields you farm, the way you farm them, with the interest and commitment with which you approach it. When you are running the combine, you - and only you - are responsible for the outcome. Drive by any field being harvested. Ever notice stalks of corn standing where the rest of row is gone? Or a strip of wheat in the middle of a pass? Or a short row of soybeans standing where none others are left? Did you ever wonder why that happened? Only the farmer know