Another day that has provided much food for thought...

This morning had not the best start for I awoke screaming from the worst nightmare I have ever had. I am used to dreaming about my past, but this time my overwhelming hunger for the alter was a part of the dream in a rather sick fashion. I couldn't stop sobbing when I awoke. I know it was not real, but it certainly felt so.

Because of this, I was late arriving at church and trying to discern where we were in the service was difficult for me. Mostly because I was still thinking about the dream and wishing that I had arrived in time for the confession/absolution opening. My godmother did dump A into my arms pretty quickly, so I at least had the absolute pleasure of holding a baby. You know, considering how dependent we are on God, holding a helpless infant is a pretty fantastic basis for listening to teaching about the Gospel.

Pastor D's sermon was on how God is able, able in a way that we are not. We strive to be able, but all we do is fail. Why do we do so when He is able?

Able to create all things with only His Word.
Able to send great floods to cover the earth, and then able to make those same waters recede.
Able to create great nations from an old man and a barren woman.
Able to use men bent on sin to nevertheless accomplish great things.
Able to defeat giants and mighty armies and walled cities.
Able to raise up shepherds to be prophets and kings.
Able to feed a multitude of people in the desert with manna, and later with only five loaves of bread and two fish.
Able to cleanse lepers.
Able to give eyes to the blind and ears to the deaf.
Able to give legs to the crippled and life to the dead.
He is the God who is able.
Who is able for you.
Paul wants you to know that, and believe it. So do you? Do you believe that? That God is able?

The full sermon is below, a read that ought to trouble your waters as it has mine. Perhaps if we praised God more then we might remember how great He is more. Perhaps if we cease trying to reduce Him to the constraints of our lives we might remember that He is the one who created them in the first place. Surely a Creator is greater than anything crafted by His hands.

It is with some frustration with myself that I admit I left again as communion was beginning. Frankly, just seeing the cloth covering the bread and the wine the entire service is difficult. Juggling A, who was fussy from a dirty diaper (I changed it) and then from trying to nurse (I cannot help her there), provided a distraction from the fact that this day marks exactly 7 months since I became overwhelmed with a longing to stand at the alter. This ungrateful wretch finds no comfort in my one-time special dispensation Lord's Supper. It was not enough. I do believe the wait is worth the strain of longing, but I wish that I were better at waiting. I am growing worse at it. Much, much worse.

When I arrived home, I actually sat down and tried to figure out how to navigate the Treasury of Daily Prayer. I'd give myself a D+, mostly for effort. I was feeling quite confident after reading steps 1-6. Step 7 begins with "find a quiet place to pray." Well, given that all my doctrine study books and bibles are next to the couch, I was staying put. Then the complex color instructions (there are five ribbons, each of a different color) started and boy, was I lost!

My rather prosaic godmother had suggested that I stick with the red and the yellow ribbons. Heeding her advice, I quickly abandoned the futile effort of trying to follow those "steps" and just read. Then I started in on praying the Psalms again:

How blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked,
Nor stand in the path of sinners,
Nor sit in the seat of scoffers!
But his delight is in the law of the LORD,
And in His law he meditates day and night.
He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water,
Which yields its fruit in its season
And its leaf does not wither;
And in whatever he does, he prospers.
The wicked are not so,
But they are like chaff which the wind drives away.
Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
Nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.
For the LORD knows the way of the righteous,
But the way of the wicked will perish.

~Psalm 1

Now, can you not hear Christ praying those words, teaching us through them? Oh, my, is this time through the Psalms going to be enlightening! I know that I should try to explain viewing them as being Christ's words more fully, but I have to admit that although I have read the treatise a second time, I am not that much closer to being able to teach that which I am reading. You could say that I am just going on faith here (double entendre intended).

This afternoon was the ordination and installation of one of the seminary students St. Athanasius has been sponsoring. His call happened to be to a Lutheran Church not far from ours (Can I really call it mine yet if I am still not allowed at the alter?), so I went to the service because I wanted to see what happens during an ordination and I wanted to support ANYONE who is stepping into the Office of a Confessional Lutheran pastor.

The Good first:

The sermon was really, really interesting to me. I would like to get a copy of it, should Pastor be able to work his contacts, because I would like to ponder it more. I did take notes, but I also had trouble following his message. You might think this is because he gave in chunks, first in Chinese, then in English. But the real reason is that I kept thinking about Pastor's sermon, about all that undershepherd stuff, and the fact that this pastor was really, really hammering home just exactly like a sheep I am, but worse. As he put it, sheep are not stupid enough to go around trying to be what they are not: the shepherd. We have a perfect Shepherd, who is able, and yet we still try to herd our own lives. SIGH.

There were fourteen other pastors there, by my count, aside from the one leading the service! Oh, my, have I been enlightened as to why Pastor calls them his brothers and absolutely cherishes his time with them and just what "family" means to Confessional Lutherans. All those comments of "Welcome to the family!" I heard at my baptism blossomed in my mind and heart in a way I had not fathomed before.

Every one of the brother pastors gave a blessing to the new pastor. Watching them I started weeping for the beauty of the moment. The most common theme was a charge to never be ashamed of the Gospel, something that we all need to hear daily, given the state of our society and the rather distressingly negative view towards Christianity in America. The one that struck me the most was a charge to remember that the Grace he would be preaching about, giving to his flock, was also meant for him. I wonder if Pastor manages to remember that.

Listening to the new pastor agree to the tenants of the faith and his vow to teach pure doctrine, to shepherd his flock, and to offer them pastoral care (I'm lumping lots of stuff together here...it was, after all, a two-hour service) was heady for me, especially the mention of the Augsburg Confession. It was as if we were all transported back 400 years or so to stand with all the Evangelicals (Lutherans) then and say, "We believe! I believe!"

My fellow Athansians all came to greet me at the end of the service. One of the men from the evening bible study bent over, looked closely at my face, knew something was wrong, and asked me what he could do. Given that he is well into the gloaming of his life, I would have knocked him down had I asked for help. Instead I asked him if he would mind fetching Pastor. Before heading off, leaving his lovely bride at my side wondering what the hurry was, he briefly, ever so lightly touched my forehead. Strange. I am not sure we have ever so much as shaken hands coming or going from bible study. Somehow he knew I was in distress. It was a sweet moment. Before setting off to find her husband, his wife mentioned that she had never been to an ordination. She actually shared my awe of the experience. She a Lutheran of many decades!

My new scripture memory partner plopped down in the pew in front of me and listened to my recitation before reciting for me. For me, she spoke those words, emphasizing them as God would have had He been there. I was so touched and moved and thankful for this woman who is willing to help me with my desire to try to memorize scripture despite my cheese-hole brain. This is no rote task for her. She made it special. I savor that moment, the unexpected benignity of hearing those words spoken for me, even now as I type this.

Now The Bad:

About an hour into the service, I knew that I was not well. ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At first I thought it was because the church was a bit tepid in temperature despite running the air-conditioning. But I have become firmly convinced that the fatal decision on my part was to drive there in a stinking hot car. I did not give doing so a second thought. While the car never cooled down despite the half-hour drive, I had the air-conditioning on the entire time. Walking from the handicapped spot--which was not even close to being in proximity of the door--in the hot sun did feel a bit too much for me. But I did not give that a second thought either. I should have turned my car on and let it cool down before I left. Or, perhaps, I should not have gone.... Why is it that trying to get fed by the Word has to be so very disastrous?

Once again, I had to ask Pastor to drag me to the car, taking up his time and spoiling his opportunity to fellowship with his brothers and to congratulate the new one. And then there was the fact that he seemed to be a bit impatient with playing crutch once again. Time to go. Let's get up! To be fair, I do not believe he was aware of just how ill I felt. Being in another church, I was working hard to put on a brave front. I did, perhaps, roll my eyes or at least look incredulously at him when he suggested I make my way to the front of the church while he went to change his clothes (divest himself of his robes). Are you crazy? Can you not see I am working very hard just to remain upright? I wanted to ask. But I did not. Why should I expect him to be his usually cheerful self when he is having to haul me to the car, to the house, up or down the stairs? If I am heartily sick of being weak and getting battered by this disease while I am out, how much more so he must be because he does not live with it and I am, at least currently, most assuredly the most trying member of his flock. DOUBLE SIGH.

[While shuffling along, Pastor pointed out that I had an error in my post yesterday (the correction has been made). It was his mother who passed away, not his wife's. He then went on to say that the bible L uses during the nooner is actually their family bible. While on their honeymoon, he gave her a gift each day. That bible was the first gift. Always during school and when they can manage their schedules during summer, Pastor and his wife get their children up and then everyone feeds on the Word together before having breakfast and continuing on with their days. I think that is so incredibly wonderful.]

[For the record, he also believes in the post two days ago I should not have merely written that Christians need to be bathed in the Gospel during worship. Not just worship was his comment; they actually need to be bathed daily. While I agree (as you probably would guess given how much I crave being read aloud to from the bible), I was specifically noting the absence of Gospel in so very many churches. Even if you study the Gospel on your own at home, I believe it is paramount that you be fed on Sundays...having walked away from church services rather hungry the majority of the past 31 years.]

Driving home was utterly frightening. I had napped in the car with the air set to Arctic for nearly an hour before leaving. While I felt stronger as we set out (I was following Pastor because I had never previously entered the beltway--my nemesis--from the direction we were at), I realized too late that the wet noodle status I felt was greatly affecting my arms. Holding the steering wheel in the correct position was more work than I could actually manage the longer I drove down the highway. So, despite my non-speeding status, I hung out in the left lane where veering out of my lane repeatedly was made somewhat moot by the fact that I kept swerving onto the shoulder. I lowered the steering wheel to rest on my knees to help hold it steady, and then I called my godmother so that she could pray and talk me home.

[Had even one of my blasted brain cells been working at the time, I could have asked my new scripture memory partner TM to drive me home since she was there with her husband. They practically have to drive past my home to get to theirs. It would not have been too much of a burden for them to help. I am so very stupid at times. I do not even qualify for sheep status!]

I made it home, got inside, and let Kashi out to do his business. When I went to close the door after he returned inside, I fell. One moment I had two working legs. The next I had but one. I fell and hit my head rather hard against the tile floor of the kitchen. JW was still talking away, having not heard the less-than-polite words that spouted from my mouth. I lay on the floor during the rest of our call. I know she felt badly that she had to go shortly thereafter since all four children were hollering their needs by that point, but I am used to being alone when I am ill. I hate it, but I am used to it. I stayed on the floor for another three hours before the dizziness abated enough so that I could crawl to the couch, where I remain now and probably will be still be come morning. I really, really, really need to not hit my head again anytime soon.

The veritable nugget of her call was to tell me that while my godfather was rather impressed with my truly erudite Dr. D assessment letter that I had crafted, he had not really wanted me to come over to last night because he thought it was more important that I rest from the asthma attacks and that he thought I should not have been at church since I was up so late crafting that rather spectacular letter filled with a plethora of truly adroit points illuminating their son's academic progress. [The pleonastic words in there are mine.] Apparently, he is taking to this "fathering" role rather heartily! Would it be altogether too old-fashioned for me to admit that hearing his concern warmed the cockles of my heart?

So, I come full circle to Pastor's sermon. When telling us exactly how able God is, he reminded us that God is able:

To keep us going when we are tired and it all seems to much for us.
To lift us up when we are frustrated and there seems to be no hope.
To speak His Word of forgiveness when our sins seem too much.
To comfort us when we are downtrodden and show us different feet - not the ones walking all over us, but the feet nailed to the cross for us.

For it is when we take our eyes and our faith off of the God who is able, and place them on ourselves that the storms seem too much for us, too great for us, too powerful for us. Because it’s true: they are. Way too much for us. But not for the God who is able!

God is able to hold me even when stuck on the kitchen floor. His Gospel is able to break through even the maelstrom that has sprung up out of tearing apart the specious lessons of my past. His Word can speak to me, thousands of years after it was penned, because He is still writing that Word on my heart, on our hearts, this day. Pastor never once said that God was able to do things. Always he said God is able. For there is no past tense with God, the Great I AM.

Help me remember, Lord, when I cannot, that You are able.

Pastor's Sermon:

Jesu Juva

“The God Who is Able”
Text: Mark 6:45-56; Ephesians 3:14-21; Genesis 9:8-17

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think.

St. Paul wrote those words to the Ephesians. He proclaimed them today to you. That they then, and you today, might know: our God is the God who is able.

Able to create all things with only His Word.
Able to send great floods to cover the earth, and then able to make those same waters recede.
Able to create great nations from an old man and a barren woman.
Able to use men bent on sin to nevertheless accomplish great things.
Able to defeat giants and mighty armies and walled cities.
Able to raise up shepherds to be prophets and kings.
Able to feed a multitude of people in the desert with manna, and later with only five loaves of bread and two fish.
Able to cleanse lepers.
Able to give eyes to the blind and ears to the deaf.
Able to give legs to the crippled and life to the dead.
He is the God who is able.
Who is able for you.
Paul wants you to know that, and believe it. So do you? Do you believe that? That God is able?

Then why don’t you live like it? Why don’t you act like it when storms come your way? Big storms, powerful storms, mighty storms, havoc-wreaking storms, life-turning-upside-down storms. Why do we think at those times that God is not able? That these things are too big for us . . . for Him.

For that is what we are saying when we give up. That God is not able.
Not able to fix my marriage.
Not able to help my friend.
Not able to give me hope.
Not able to provide what I need.
Not able to rescue.
God is not able.

That is also what we are saying when we think we have to do it. That God is not able. Or that He is not willing. If it’s going to be its up to me. Have you heard that little ditty? It doesn’t take long for that attitude to crush you. It is a most heavy weight to bear. Like the disciples, trying to make headway against a most powerful wind. Ever feel that way? That all your efforts are getting you nowhere . . . and the storm’s just gonna win anyway?

Repent. Repent of your unbelief. Repent and consider what happened to the disciples. The disciples who were Joes and Schmoes just like you and me. Not understanding, hardened of heart, often frightened and confused. Consider not what they did, but rather what happened to them. For Jesus happened to them. Jesus, who they did not think was with them, but they thought was ghost - unreal. Jesus, who meant to pass them by, but who in compassion could not, but came to them who without Him had no hope. Not because they asked, because they didn’t. But because He knew. And to give life is why He came.

And so he spoke to them and said, “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.”

Now, I have to get a little technical on you here, to help you understand exactly what this means. For when Mark says: “he spoke to them and said” he is not being repetitious, but actually uses two different verbs for speaking there - the first (“he spoke”) is used for the proclamation of God’s Word, the second (“and said”) for human speech. And so from a human mouth and human lips comes a divine and living Word; a divine and living Word which does what it says. The same divine and living Word that spoke in creation, that gave these same seas their boundaries, now speaks into the ears and hearts of frightened disciples. To work in them. To create in them what was not there before.

And what is created by this Word? Faith. They can “take heart” and “no longer be afraid” because, Jesus says: “it is I.” Now, here’s where I have to get technical again, because that’s a lousy translation. What Jesus actually says is: I AM. That is the Divine Name of the Old Testament. The name so holy it could not be uttered by human lips. The name told to Moses when he asked what God’s name was. The name which tells us that God is unchangeable - He is never an I WAS or an I WILL BE, He is always I AM. Dependable, unchangeable, the same yesterday, today, and forever. (Heb 13:8)

Or in other words, putting that all together, Jesus comes to them in the midst of life and says: Take heart, or be of good courage. The God who created the world and these seas and you and all things, is with you, here, in my flesh. You no longer have to be afraid. And then, just to prove that point, when He gets into the boat with them, the wind, the storm, ceases. Utterly.

For He is the God who is able.
Our Saviour who is able and does not give up on us - even if, at times and mired in sin, we give up on Him.
Our Saviour who is the eternal, unchangeable God and does not change His mind. Who said to you in Holy Baptism “You are mine” (Is 43:1) - and so you are.
Our Saviour who speaks to us and says; who speaks, and it is done. Who still today speaks divine words through human mouths. Words that give faith. Words that forgive. Words that give what we need.
For He is the God who is able for you. Not absent in the storms; not passing you by; not a ghost - an unreal figment of a disturbed mind. But in the boat with you. In human flesh, for you.

To keep us going when we are tired and it all seems to much for us.
To lift us up when we are frustrated and there seems to be no hope.
To speak His Word of forgiveness when our sins seem too much.
To comfort us when we are downtrodden and show us different feet - not the ones walking all over us, but the feet nailed to the cross for us.

For it is when we take our eyes and our faith off of the God who is able, and place them on ourselves that the storms seem too much for us, too great for us, too powerful for us. Because it’s true: they are. Way too much for us. But not for the God who is able!

And so He comes to us that our eyes and our faith be focused on Him.
On Him for whom nothing is too great, too powerful, too overwhelming.
On Him who was born of a virgin’s womb.
On Him who battled the temptations of the devil in the wilderness.
On Him who was hated and scorned yet returned only love and compassion.
On Him who took the sin of the world on Himself, that it be on Him and not on you.
On Him who died your death on the cross that He might burst the bonds of death and the grave.
On Him who descended into hell, storming its gates and declaring His victory.
On Him who rose on the third day and ascended into heaven, to pave the way for you.
On Him who often looked defeated but was never defeated.
Can He not overcome what is bearing upon you who are heavy laden and give you rest? (Matt 11:28)
Is He not with you - He who said I am with you always? (Matt 28:20)Is He not able?

Take heart! He is with you as He promised. With His Word, with His mighty forgiveness, with His victory, with His flesh and blood. Perhaps there are times when it seems as if He is not, or that He is passing you by. Perhaps He is not working for us as we want. But faith clings not to what seems to be and not to what we want, but to the Word and promise of Him who is able - and not only able, but who keeps every Word and promise. That’s kind of faith is not easy. But He is able to do what we are unable to do.

For take note of what happens next in the story - people, Mark says, come flocking to Jesus to touch even the hem of His garment. But is that what happened? Or has Jesus come to them, that they might touch the hem of His garment? For has not the God who is able, come into our flesh and blood, to do this very thing? Come to us that we may be saved?

And so He has come here this day, to you and me, for you and me. Clothed not in garments of cloth, but clothed in bread and wine, that our hungry souls and sin-parched mouths may feed on Him and touch Him and be healed. Healed of our sins. Healed of our doubts and fears. Healed of our death . . . that we may live.

When you take a look around in this congregation, it doesn’t take much imagination to see a crowd like those on the shore of Lake Gennesaret - people tired and sick and hurting and struggling and much in need of help. People who look defeated by the troubles of life and our struggles with them.

But we are not defeated! Because we are not alone. Because the God who is able is with us in the person of Jesus Christ. With His life-giving cross and powerful resurrection, and with His forgiveness, life, and salvation that flow from it. And so however that cross manifests itself in your life, it is not defeat, but the path to victory and life. Not your path, to be sure! Not the path you would have chosen for yourself. But your Saviour’s path. His path for you. The path He trod, and the path He now takes you on, with Him.

And so however the cross manifests itself in your life, you are not alone. Not alone facing the stormy seas. Not alone facing the trials and struggles. Never alone. The One who IS is with you. The great I AM. The One who never changes. The One who is able. Able to create, able to keep, able to save. He will not pass you by. For you are His. And though the way be rough and the storms be huge now, know this: He is the God who is able . . . able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, [therefore] to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

Now the peace of God which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds through faith in Christ Jesus, our Lord. Amen.

What a day!

After this third stab at praying the psalms, I started thinking about how little I truly know about praising God. I am quite good at giving thanks, but I fear that I have let praise slip by the wayside. So, after considering the matter for a while, I got out my guitar that has been sitting neglected for at least three years. I have not a lute or harp or lyre, but I do have a guitar.

Something I should have remembered is that I have no business singing soprano pieces anymore. I do not have the lung capacity to sing as it is, much less carry high notes. About an hour into singing hymns and praise songs from Scripture, I found myself lying on the floor, having fainted again (that's the sixth time this week). Back to the nebulizer and a much lower key (at church, because there is so much reading aloud and singing, I have taken to singing with the men to save breath). So, I was strung out on asthma drugs when Pastor D arrived for my catechism lessoning.

I tried. Truly I tried.

I tried to give him all sorts of permission to glare, interrupt, admonish or even threaten me in order to progress in his agenda necessary to allow me to have communion at church. I even went so far as to provide cue cards for his use that instructed me to shut up and let him teach in a series of ten messages that progressed from gentle reminders to rather blunt commands. Given that we did not really progress past the introduction text to the Lord's Prayer (meaning we STILL have yet to tackle the Creed and the Lord's Prayer after 3 sessions), I believe the next lesson needs stronger measures. In short, I believe he should use duct tape on my mouth!

Still, I did learn much today that I needed to begin to grasp. I heard what I needed to hear. And he listened to me.

We did plow through some questions that have arisen in praying the Psalms (more on that later). He sang another hymn to me. He did confession/absolution. And he read with me, going through Psalm 136 with him starting each verse and my finishing with "For His lovingkindess is everlasting." I highly recommend reading aloud this Psalm with another person on a regular basis. The best part was that when we were done, Pastor commented that the only thing wrong with the psalm was that it was too short! Imagine that, a Pastor who actually enjoys reading scripture aloud!

Aside from the cue cards, another "gift" I had for him was a laminated miniature replica of my baptism certificate. I had made ones (note the plural) for me and one for each of my baptismal sponsors and for Pastor. At the nooner bible study a couple of weeks ago, I saw that Pastor's wife had a small laminated card that was from his mother's funeral which she used as a bookmark. Staring at the certificate that Pastor propped up on the side table next to the couch where all my "Lutheran" books are piled along with my many bibles, I kept thinking about her bookmark. I thought if I made one out of my certificate, it would be a way of thanking JW and her husband for agreeing to be my sponsors and a reminder to Pastor of the fruit of his labor for times when he is discouraged as to whether or not he is doing any good in his office. I think he liked it.

In turn, Pastor came bearing gifts. He had a replacement Lutheran Service Book/hymnal since I had given Bettina mine to take home with her. The new one came with four ribbons, not one. And Pastor purposely placed one at the Litany (my "talking" prevented us from being able to pray that today). His other "gift" was another study book! Such a surfeit of riches I have had from his hands: Book of Concord, ESV bible, two Lutheran Service Books (the old one and the new one), The Spirituality of the Cross, a Lenten devotional, the Catechism lesson book, and now a small treatise on Psalms by Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

I admit that I have already read through the small book! It is more difficult to grasp than I had hoped. Or I am more dense than I would wish. Pastor did read me a snippit to show me that I sort of missed something in my post yesterday and in doing so showed me what the next approach I need to take as I begin praying the Psalms again: praying attempt #4 shall be to read them aloud contemplating that they are the words of Christ, the prayers of Christ.

If the Word was (is) before He was incarnate, then the Word in Psalms is actually Christ. They are His words, His prayers, given to us through David. So, when I wrote that I had no words, so I began reading aloud, using David's, I was actually using the words of Christ.

I almost laughed when Pastor pointed that out to me, for one of the ways I tease him is noting whether or not something from the Old Testament is a "Jesus" verse. To Lutherans, they are all "Jesus" verses, or rather they believe Christ permeates the Old Testament as much as He does the New Testament.

After my lessoning, I went to my godparents home. [Boy, do I revel in typing that word, godparents! Isn't it crazy to acquire a pair at my age?] I had agreed to assess JW's oldest for her homeschool requirements before the whole baptismal sponsor thing arose and time has run out for me to do so. She had a friend and her family staying with her, but they allowed me some rather special time with my godmother that included much singing! Yes, JW sang to me and with me while I was there.

She also gave me back my baptismal napkin (still wrinkled from being wet) that she had finished stitching and their gift to me: her copy of the Treasury of Daily Prayer, inscribed by her husband to me. SIGH. Now, I am sure I will need another degree to ferret out how to follow all the bits and pieces in this veritable trove of prayer and scripture and lessons (it is way more complicated than the service book), but I am most grateful to have another tool for my spiritual growth. And the fact that it is my godfather's handwriting on the first page is special to me.

It was not just JW who agreed to serve as godparent. Her husband (JW as well) also said, "Yes."

I had mailed my godmother a thank you card with the small replica of my baptism certificate, but I kept my godfather's with me until I could talk with him in person.

I do not know him. And it is uncomfortable for me to be around him because I do not know him, but I do not want that to remain the case. I did not really wish to talk with him about my past, but I wanted to let him know that it meant a lot to me that he agreed to be my godparent as well as JW. She had told me that he would understand, that he was not offended that I have given him a wide berth in the times I had seen him before. I guess I did not really believe her. This evening, when I thanked him in person, gave him my gift, and told him that I was working on being better, he very quietly reminded me that Christ would be the one to do that for me, in His timing, not mine. He is willing to give me all the space I needed in the meantime. I was rather humbled in that moment, for I realized that I have been truly blessed with a pair of godparents who are genuinely committed to helping me live in faith.

Godparents! Oh, how I have longed for "parents" with whom I could share my faith, talk about the bible, seek counsel. People who actually want to teach, who want to guide. My own would never fit that bill and I am fairly well convinced now that I will never have in-laws who might serve in that role. Now, out of the blue, in addition to a strange Pastor who teaches oh so freely, I have godparents charged with that very task!

How incredibly, unbelievably marvelous is that?

Well, Myrtle, how's your head?

Fine, if I don't move it too much!

Getting up, moving about, turning too quickly, bending over, straightening up, laying down...all of these increase my dizziness and ensuing nausea. Really, going down the stairs any other way than by your feet is not highly recommended.

Last night, I tried to eat dinner, roused my nausea, promptly threw it up, and started coughing. The nebulizer helped for a few hours, and I managed to actually sleep. But this morning I had another attack. So, out came the nebulizer and my heart started pounding once more.

I loathe those drugs. Even when I am not in the hospital, I feel so lonely when struggling to breathe and battling the fear I feel each time my heart starts racing and the drug-induced tremors start wracking my body. I tremble from the inside out; it feels so utterly frightening. As much as I dislike the ER, I want to be there so that I am at least near others.

This morning, it was really strange because I walked into our building coughing and was gasping for breath by the time I got to my own office. I was coughing and gasping so hard that I couldn't get my medication into the nebulizer. Needless to say, I was making quite a racket, but I remained all alone in my office. Because it was so bad, I went ahead and jabbed the Epipen in my leg so that I could have enough relief to start the nebulizer. Still, no one came. About an hour later, the office manager passed by, saw my paraphernalia still spread about my desk and said she thought she heard me coughing. So much for hoping help is nearby at work should I need it!

While I had arrived at work early to make up for some lost time this week, I actually sat in the parking lot talking to JW. I know, that doesn't sound like avoiding her, but we had had a long text session last night and I was worried she was offended by some of what I said. It is still much easier not talking to her than talking to her. She is still thrilled about the great lesson of my baptism. But I will admit that my godmother has this uncanny ability to make me laugh even when tears are streaming down my face. Personally, I believe she is much, much too wicked to be a godparent (not to mention that I am much, much too old to be gaining godparents), but she believes the opposite...on both counts!

This morning, she said something else that troubled my waters. The following is as near as I can remember: You are experiencing birthing pains. I do not understand why they are so strong, but that is what they are. You are being born in the Gospel, having grown up with more law than you should have found in any church. It's probably a good thing that we do not remember our births. It has to hurt the baby at least some. But we all have to be born. You need to be born.

I think, perhaps, it would be right for her to interchange Objective Grace and the Gospel.

Certainly, I learned the Gospel in church. Had I not, I would not be found! Had I not, I would not have learned that Christ came to save the world and to save me. But forgiveness and grace seemed relegated to the cross, to the past. Not meant for today. Not meant for practice amongst Christians.

Certainly I learned about Grace, but only as an obligatory lesson about what God bestows upon us in our salvation...when we do the work of accepting Christ as our Saviour. Certainly not that it is Objective Grace. The (erroneous) teaching I received is that our work is necessary, meaning...in a sense...that Christ's work on the cross was not sufficient. How can that be?

I learned all the things I needed to be doing to be a better Christian. I learned all the ways that I could make myself more holy. I learned about how I could live a more godly life so that I might become more faithful. Oh, the futile labor of trying to create and enlarge your own faith.

I did not learn that I am washed anew daily. Washed by the blood. Washed by the Spirit. Washed by the Living Word. I did not learn that while the Law crushes us in our absolute inability to keep it, the Gospel sets us free. It sets us free, not just because Christ fulfilled the law for us, but by allowing us to walk in forgiveness even though we are still sinful beings, still destined to fail.

At one point, I was telling JW of how wretched I feel about how I feel about someone, and her response was be that as it may, you are forgiven for feeling that way. Forgiveness is her litany to me. I cannot hear it enough.

Being forgiven does not mean that we are then free to sin, free to inflict our debase natures upon each other. Despite our greatest effort, we will do that anyway. But forgiveness does allows us to move beyond the sin and begin again. It is a crushing existence without forgiveness, a constant accounting of our failures being heaped upon us with no relief, no release in sight.

Not everyone is fettered by the law. Without the Holy Spirit, we cannot even fathom fear and love and trust of God. Without the Holy Spirit, we cannot even fathom the weight of our sin. But for Christians the weight of their sin can be an impossibly heavy burden if they are not also bathed in the Gospel each time they enter God's house to worship, if they are not fed the sweet honey of the Living Word and sated with the refreshing water of forgiveness.

Being bathed in the Gospel leads me back to the journey which I have been taking ever since Pastor D dropped the Book of Concord into my lap, into my life.

I have written of all parts of the Large Catechism save for the Lord's Prayer. Really and truly there is nothing that I can write that has not been written better by Luther and countless pastors since. And I will admit that some of what I have been reading and what I thought I heard from Pastor has bothered me when it comes to prayer. I would have thought, having spent 31 years clinging to Christ, that prayer was something I had down pat. Now, I am not so sure.

Nevertheless, I would highly recommend you read Luther's instruction for doing so will most certainly illuminate this perfect prayer, this gift that Christ gave us. It is a prayer that you could study for a lifetime and never learn its true riches, each petition worthy of its own lifetime of study. I believe this to be because I have come to understand that the words of this prayer, the words I memorized years ago without much thought, the words I have repeated countless times because it was time to do so in the church service or in the bible study, are actually all that we need to know about God and what He has done for us, what He does for us. To understand the Lord's Prayer is to understand God. Such knowledge cannot be contained in this fallen world. But chasing that understanding is a most worthy pursuit.

Below, I will share a few bits of the introductory text in the hopes that you might glimpse of the magnitude of this gift and be inspired to study the whole of Luther's instruction on the Lord's Prayer in the Book of Concord, Large Catechism. And then I will conclude with my thoughts on his admonition to pray the Psalms.

And the first thing to know is that it is our duty to pray because of God's commandment. For that's what we heard in the Second Commandment, "You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain" (Exodus 20:7). We are required to praise that holy name and call upon it in every need, or to pray. To call upon God's name is nothing other than to pray (e.g., I Kings 18:24). (LC, Part III, 5)

[Note: It is important to remember that any prayer without the Word, without the triune God is footle natter. Those prayers are hollow words cast about into the air that have no audience, no weight, no hope. As harsh as that sounds, apart from God they are nothing.]

For by calling upon God's name and praying, His name is honored and used well. (LC, Part III, 8)

Indeed, the human heart is by nature so hopeless that it always flees from God and imagines that He does not wish or desire our prayer, because we are sinners and have earned nothing but wrath (Romans 4:15). (LC, Part III, 10)

For by this commandment God lets us plainly understand that He will not cast us away from Him or chase us away (Romans 11:1). This is true even though we are sinners. But instead He draws us to Himself (John 6:44), so that we might humble ourselves before Him (I Peter 5:6), bewail this misery and plight of ours, and pray for grace and help (Psalm 69:13). (LC, Part III, 11)

This work [prayer] is a work of obedience. What I do for no other reason that I may walk in the obedience and commandment of God. On this obedience I can settle and stand firm, and I can value it as a great thing, not because of my worthiness, but because of the commandment. (LC, Part III, 13)

God does not consider prayer because of the person, but because of His Word and obedience to it. (LC, Part III, 16)

In the second place, we should be more encouraged and moved to pray because God has also added a promise and declared that it shall surely be done for us as we pray. He says in Psalm 50:15, "Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you." And Christ says in the Gospel of St. Matthew, "Ask, and it will be given to you...for everyone who asks receives" (7:7-8). (LC, Part III, 19)

For in addition to this commandment and this promise, God expects us [to pray] and He Himself arranges the words and form of prayer for us. He places them on our lips for how and what we should pray (Psalm 51:15), so that we may see how heartily He pities us in our distress (Psalm 4:1), and we may never doubt such prayer is pleasing to Him and shall certainly be answered. (LC, Part III, 22-23)

We need to know this: all our shelter and protection rest in prayer alone. For we are far too weak to deal with the devil and all his power and followers who set themselves against us. They might easily crush us under their feet. Therefore, we must consider and take up those weapons with which Christians must be armed in order to stand against the devil (II Corinthians 10:4; Ephesians 6:11). (LC, Part III, 30-31)

Something that I have found equally strange and equally compelling is Luther's admonition to pray the Psalms. What this means exactly, I cannot tell you. I can tell you that this book of the bible is a book of prayers given to us. I have long heard that they are poems, that poetry is not always easy to understand. I have heard that David wrote them. I have heard that some we know when and others we know not. I have not, however, really heard that they are prayers.

So, how do you pray the Psalms? Again, I honestly do not know. What I do know is that in my attempts to pray the Psalms, I have taken to reading them aloud. I have just finished my third time through them. The first time, I read them in one sitting, all night long, focusing on Luther's observation that they embody the First Commandment or better yet the First Commandment embodies them. The second time I started to read them because I was so distraught, hurting so deeply, that I could not speak. I had no words. I spoke aloud David's. The third time, I set about reading them more purposely, highlighting my way through the book as I read aloud...repeating some bits over and over again before moving on...backing up when I next opened the book to read the highlights again before continuing on once more.

Everything I have tried to say about the power of the Living Word does not come close to how I feel about Scripture now, to what I have learned in my attempts to pray the Psalms. There were words the third time through I could swear were not there the first two times. There are words that I swear I could have written myself, that speak so intimately of my heart that I gasp as my mouth forms them. The words of the Psalms comfort. The words of the Psalms inspire. The words of the Psalms chasten. The words of the Psalms instruct. They are words for me. They may be for the rest of the world, for all time, but they are actually for me. They are the Word. The Word who came for me.

The Word who came for you.

I am waiting.

I am waiting for this onslaught to end.

Many hours ago, I fell down the stairs. I was not really thinking about where I was because I was thinking about what I had just seen in the mirror. So, down I went. After shrugging off the books that had fallen out of the bookcase at the bottom of the stairs, I tried to stand. Big mistake.

A mighty rushing wind sounded in my ears and the next thing I knew I was on the floor the rest of the way down the stairs, looking up at the green chair. When I tried to get up there, I was so dizzy I vomited the corn I had managed to eat for dinner. So, I wisely lay on the floor for over a hour.

When I tried to stand again, the world shifted once more and the last of the corn came up. So, after resting for another hour or so, I crawled to the couch and pulled myself up without opening my eyes or moving my head much at all. There I have been for the past few hours, dozing off an on, waiting for my head to clear, and thinking how stupid it is that I am too scared to call for help. I thought if I concentrated on writing, on thinking clearly, it might help. I am less dizzy than I was around 9:00 last night, so I am hoping that by the time I need to leave for the office, driving will be okay.

Why not call? Help, I've fallen and I cannot get up? Like those commercials? I just cannot go back to a hospital by myself. Not after last time. I have not been able to put out of my mind how helpless I was after the surgery. I am not ready for that. Asthma attack ER visits are awful, but they have clearly defined parameters. I am fearful of calling an ambulance, of who might show up and what would happen thereafter.

My vision is really blurry. I tried reading the Psalms, but whereas I can enlarge the font on the screen, I cannot enlarge the print on my bible. I also tried to remember the things I have been studying and the verses I just memorized because a woman from church agreed to do so with me. But I keep thinking about why I fell...or why I think I fell.

I had just taken a shower, and even though I tried not to do so, I still caught a glimpse of the bruises on my arms. They are from Sunday, from when those two men helped me get to the car. They must have been working really hard, since I obviously was not helping much.

I tried to talk with JW how I felt on Monday, but she is so infernally happy about Sunday, that I gave up and have not talked to her since. [She is busy this week with friends and family still there celebrating A's baptism, so I am sure she has not noticed my silence. Perhaps that makes me less rude?] She made a very, very cogent point that I have tried to keep in mind: It is not your story that matters at baptism; it is Christ's. Couple this with her comment on Sunday, It is not you walking to the font, but Christ bringing you there, and I should be happy about being baptized. But how can I be happy about a day that started with abject shame, continued with fear, and ended with me collapsing at church? I do not remember actually being baptized. All I knew was that if I dropped A, JW would not forgive me, even though the only reason I was holding the baby was because she dumped her in my arms and refused to take her back. I have not worked so hard at anything in a long, long time as I worked to hold on to A. Once that duty was over, I think I was already starting to let go of myself.

I have the certificate and the candle. I have those things, but I wanted to...well...have the moment, not the proof. I wanted to be able to say, "I am baptized!" because I know that fact, not because I have an entire church who watched me tremble from head to toe the whole time. I wanted to at least sit downstairs at the celebration meal even if I wouldn't be eating those cakes I heard about. I wanted to at least see them.

JW would probably say the angels are rejoicing. She did say that she thought the devil waged a mighty battle Sunday morning and lost. Why do I feel like I lost, too?

Working has been difficult primarily because I am shaking and having trouble walking still. I am tired and my vision, even prior to falling down the stairs, has been blurry. Several people asked about my baptism. I had to pretend that I had a good day. They wouldn't understand. They think I got too hot again.

I have read through the Book of Concord bits on baptism again and again. While I have read copious amounts of text that would support JW's position, I did not find mine. I wonder what Luther would have to say were he here or I there. He'd probably be rejoicing, too. But perhaps because he wrote so often of despair, he might also have a bit of empathy.

What really matters is that I was baptized. I know that. My soul knows that very well. My heart is the one with the trouble. But, then again, I do not know why I expected anything different, why I would think that I could have a good day.

Monday, when I got home from work, I sat out on the deck and cried for hours. Even now, the cage I set outside in the futile hope that my bird would see it and fly back home is still there. I cannot bring myself to put it away, yet seeing it there deepens my sorrow. I cannot believe that Smokey is gone. That I have yet another loss. Just a few weeks ago, I had three birds. Now there is just one.

I have done nothing but work, pretend that everything is fine, and come home and read and think and read some more. Later today, I get to show up at the surgeon's office and pretend that it is fine with me that she is pulling out the stitches. After all, in her opinion there is absolutely no reason I should be experiencing any pain. Everything looks fine.

I could almost bring myself to call an ambulance just for the chance at leaving them in longer, but knowing my luck, she would show up there and take them out anyway... or another doctor would. The incision is either going to open again or not. The pain is either going to go away or not. There is nothing that I can really do about that.

There is nothing I can really do about Smokey.

There is nothing I can really do about the bruises.

There is nothing I can really do about Sunday.

There is nothing I can really do.


~~~~
The other thing JW said on Monday that has troubled my waters was how much she has longed to be a god mother. None of her friends and family who have been pushing out babies right and left chose her, and she thought that opportunity had passed her by. Now, I still do not know exactly what a baptismal sponsor is, but I surely know what a god parent is. I had no idea they are one in the same...or at least that she thinks so, thought so when she said agreed to Pastor's request to be my sponsor. I was speechless. If she only knew how long I have wished for such a thing, given the family I have. It is a silly notion. I am a woman grown and older than she is. However, I do believe she is going to be taking that role rather seriously...already talking about what she plans to do for my baptismal birthday next year. Oh, how I do not understand that woman!

~~~~
I thought I would type my verses, since I did not see my new scripture memory partner yesterday to say them to her. Although I realized just now that in memorizing them, I neglected to note the punctuation. I am sure to get that part wrong...

But now, thus says the Lord, your Creator, O Jacob and He who formed you, O Israel, "Do not fear for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name. You are Mine! When you pass through the waters, I will be with you and through the rivers they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, nor will the flames burn you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Saviour."

~Isaiah 43:1-3a

Have you ever had a day that turned out so utterly different from that which you expected, one filled with frustration or hurt or disappointment, and yet somehow you cannot honestly call it a bad day?

Today, I can say with all confidence that I am baptized! In fact, after the act, I repeated those words like a litany against the devil, against my hurt, against my disappointment, against the fear I felt in my helplessness.

Bettina and I spoke well into the night, actually more like nearly round the clock last evening. It is good to call a spade a spade. It is good to be honest, even when that honesty means admitting how very much you hurt, the reality of desperation. Fears and failures wash over us humans like a tide upon the beach, inexorably eroding our stability with distressing regularity.

We are not perfect. We live in a fallen world. Try as we might, we cannot change those two facts. Faced with the futility of our efforts to save ourselves, to shed those fears or failures, reality can be quite bleak.

Now, you might be thinking I am referring to those who live not beneath the blood of Christ, but in this case they are the very ones to which I am referring. Despite the absolutely complete, ineffable act of mercy in Christ dying upon the cross, we still try to sanctify ourselves, to make ourselves more holy, more faithful, deserving in some manner. The world--and sadly much of the Church--tells us that we must strive so. We must continue to work in order to grow in our faith. This fallacy, I believe, is the most egregious act of Christian leaders and teachers. We cannot do anything. Those good works which we do manage to accomplish on behalf of others are only done because the Holy Spirit enables us to do so. We live in a fallen world because mankind is fallen. Therefore that which we attempt to do on our own is not holy, is not good, and most certainly does not save us from eternal death.

Today was my baptism. I am baptized! I have a certificate and a candle and eventually will have a napkin (JW did not have time to finish the intricate stitching she is doing on it since Pastor only made his offer but 4 days ago and her home has been filled with friends and family come to celebrate the baptism of A so she took it back from me).

But, oh, how this day has not been as I would have wished or dreamed about since I first became convinced that I was not, in truth, baptized in the name of the Father, Jesus Christ His Son, and the Holy Spirit.

That long night never ended for me. Bettina went off to bed because she had but a few hours left to try and get some sleep before the needs of her children began again. I first wrote to Pastor D, trying to better articulate that which I failed to do yesterday during the confession/absolution I had requested before this day and then I prayed the rest of the night for Bettina, her husband, and her children. For one with MS, a very, very stupid thing to do. For a child of Christ an absolute necessity.

Somehow, we all managed to arrive at church in time for bible study (Sunday School), I being the most excited for the past two lessons on Genesis have fascinated me, thrilled me, and challenged what I had thought about creation and those first few steps of mankind in our world. And then there is the absolute beauty of God's plan for our redemption from the moment of our fall into sin.

But today the lesson caught me off guard. A normal, natural topic rose up within me such a wave of shame and hurt that I fled the room in search of a place to hide. Certainly the sin which was visited upon me as a child marks me too deeply, that I am too unworthy to walk down the aisle to the baptismal font. All I could think was that this lesson topic coming this day was a confirmation that this Sacrament was not for me--was not given before now, though I have walked with Christ for 31 years, because I have no right to it.

The closets in which I would have hidden, the dark places I could wrap around my shock and disbelief that this was to be how my baptism turned out to be were all in the basement where classes and cooking for the celebration meal were taking place. I wound up in the crying room, a small room at the back of the sanctuary where parents can go to ease their children's distress. After crawling in a corner, I began shaking in my anguish and wondering what I was supposed to do when in a very short while everyone was expecting me to walk down that aisle. I could not approach that baptismal font. I could not.

Pastor came in to change into his robes, not even seeing me. I shrank back further, hoping that he remain oblivious, but eventually he saw me. He has been trying mightily to step away from his you-need-to-be-direct-with-me-because-I-have-the-typical-dense-male-mind and today managed to do so. When I did not want to say why I was so upset but mentioned his lesson, comprehension dawned shortly thereafter. Much to my confusion, knowing how I felt made him even more certain that the baptism should take place. I only curled up into to a tighter ball. He fetched JW.

That woman, oh, how she troubles my waters! She arrived, most determined to have me join her daughter in baptism, speaking strange words to me. She explained that I was not really the one walking down the aisle. Instead, it would be Christ bringing me there. No matter what I told her about my past, about the lesson topic, about how I felt, she was resolute. Being just three weeks from giving birth, she somehow nevertheless managed to get me to a standing position and then, rather magnificently, placed her baby girl into my tremblings arms.

To say this has been a stressful week is an unbelievable understatement. Stress can bring on an MS flare as completely as can heat. I was already caught in that trap. Yet JW ignored the obvious, would not take back her daughter, and basically herded me down to the front of the church.

A has been fussing for a few days and had arrived screaming to that room. But in my arms she fell asleep. It was as if she knew that I needed comfort and gave herself over to that act, mirroring the peace she brings to me.

Shortly thereafter we were all at the baptismal font. I holding the baby and JW holding me up, keeping me from collapsing to the floor.

Oh, how I wish I could remember the baptismal liturgy. My whole being was consumed with my own fears and failures and the past that oft haunts me, while simultaneously concentrating on not dropping A, even though my trembling was worsening, wet noodles status had set in, and my hands and feet were beginning to tingle. When it was A's turn, Pastor took her from my arms and my last truly lucid thought was how tenderly he held her and the joy on his face as he washed her with the water and the Word. I wondered if he would have the same joy for me.

What kind of woman trusts me to keep her daughter safe when I was not safe myself? What kind of Pastor can know the vile acts visited upon me and still believe that there was nowhere else I should be but there with Christ to receive His gift of being washed clean?

Afterwards, JW got me back to the first pew, holding my hand as I wept through the rest of the liturgy I heard before I lost my grip on staying in the moment. Every mention of every act of mercy and grace and love bestowed upon us made me cry harder. I am baptized!

Then, the service ended for me. I fainted. JW caught me and held me upright until I regained consciousness some five minutes later. She then helped me to lie down on the pew because I could do no more than be trapped by my helplessness.

JW remained by my side, her hand a comforting weight on my shoulder. Long after the service ended, I remained trapped where I was, but Pastor came to tell me the essence of what I missed. Bettina and her children visited before taking my place in the celebratory meal. And JW ensured that I was not left alone.

When it was time to start leaving, Pastor's wife helped me to sit up, and then essentially held me because I would not have remained upright even should I have so desired. I mostly concentrated on listening to her heartbeat. There was another moment during which I lost consciousness, but I believe it was not too long. I asked her what I should do and still, in this moment, believe she was correct that going to the hospital would be the best course of action. But being alone there, being alone after this week, this day, I could not do. So, I once again chose to ask for help to get home.

To leave was an effort I am still amazed was successful. Pastor and JW's husband, my other baptismal sponsor, bore the bulk of my weight as I dragged myself to the car. Pastor was then to meet Bettina at the house to help me inside. Unfortunately, he had more to do at the church and Bettina had to end up some how dragging me inside and upstairs to the bathroom. That Bettina made her car similar to the North Pole on the trip home brought some strength back to my limbs. However, I believe that she was not alone in helping me. I believe I was not alone.

When Pastor arrived, ever willing to help, he received a rather strenuous workout getting me back downstairs where it is cooler and I had a greater chance for recovering from the MS flare. In a spate of wisdom, he suggested that I take a Zanax to try and help me relax. I wonder if it was to relax against the pain from my incision for I felt something tear a bit when I was being bundled into the front seat of Bettina's car or relax from the tremors that still wracked my body or to relax from the emotions of this day. His was a good decision.

Even though he was pressed for time, I asked that he read aloud to me, knowing he would be eager to do so if time were willing. He agreed and read to me Job 38:1 - 42:6, a passage that is near and dear to my soul, one that though I have read countless times, I heard anew this day...such is the power of the Living Word.

Ever the teacher, Pastor returned a few of my comments with additional teaching to help me further understand the majesty of these words and the greatness of God's work. He also repeated for me, not once, but three times, the Truth of Christ's work in our lives that the Holy Spirit might one day enable me to grasp it fully even though breaking through the lies and vile acts that mark my life so that I might fully see and know and taste the sweetness that is objective grace is probably the most difficult task he has undertaken and the medication was already doing that which he intended for me.

I spent the afternoon dozing, waking, and falling asleep once again as Bettina cared for me and for her children, despite her own fatigue and her own battle with fears and failures. I even managed to keep down a bit of cheese, a handful of peanuts, and some more of those baked sweet potato fries. She fetched and carried and saw to my every need, including walking Kashi while I slept again.

Christ had a mighty message for both of us this day in Pastor's sermon. Through the blessing of technology, I am able to receive it in whole, though I was not able to hear it this morning.

Again, I give you in part before the whole so that you might see and taste as well.

And so the cross is where the lovelessness of sin and the sinlessness of love come together, and love wins. The love of God. [The next seven statements based upon the seven last words of Christ from the cross.] The love of God who is forsaken, so that you will never be. The love of God who thirsts, that you may drink His living water and never thirst again. The love of God who lays down His life for His Bride, the Church. The love of God who promises us Paradise through His blood. The love of God who says “Father, forgive them.” The love of God who gives His Spirit to you. The love of God who dies your death, that you may live His life. His life, for He is not dead, but risen! For death cannot reign where sin is atoned for and forgiven.

And that is the love and truth and victory that came to Annalise and Patricia this morning - and which came to you - in the waters of Holy Baptism. For although it looked quite ordinary, or like something we were doing, what happened there was quite extraordinary and something our Saviour was doing. For there, the lovelessness of their sin and the sinlessness of God’s love came together, and love won. Their sins are washed away, they are children of God, and have the promise of eternal life.

Would you believe that while I was lying there helpless to move, barely able to talk, and mostly lost in the moment, I did notice that for the absolute first (and probably last) time that I actually knew every hymn (or at least tune for every hymn) this day? For once, I could have raised my voice in song without trying to struggle through notes and words. I could only listen to the comfortingly familiar music and cling to the praises I knew were being raised.

The sum of this day was that I could do nothing. I had not envisioned or planned or would have ever desired it to be so. After all this was my baptismal day! And yet...and yet...I am learning that this is how it should have been. Christ did it all for me. He does it all for you.

While he was here, Pastor fetched my baptismal certificate, read it to me, and then propped it up beside me so that I could know, despite the fog of this day, that I am baptized!

His sermon:

Jesu Juva

“Desolate Places Turned Green Pastures”
Text: Mark 6:30-44

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

Three times today we are told that Jesus and His disciples were in a desolate place. Three times. Mark wants to make sure we know that. And that Jesus is there on purpose. For after His apostles return from their work, Jesus willfully takes them there to take care of them and give them rest. To a desolate place. Not to some feast or party or comfortable place of ease, but to a desolate place - because desolate places are often where Jesus does His greatest work.

But they are not there long before the crowds show up. In fact, the crowds got there before them. And when Jesus gets out of the boat and sees them, He has compassion on them too. For they too are in a desolate place - but not because they ran there on foot. The desolate place for the crowds was their hearts. For, we are told, they were like sheep without a shepherd. They were not being fed or cared for, and so they were lost and lonely and spiritually hungry.

So in that desolate place, Jesus does a great work - He feeds them all. He feeds them all first spiritually with His Word, and then He feeds them all physically, using only five loaves of bread and two fish. And they are filled in body and in soul. They receive the care that only He can give. For Jesus has turned that desolate place into the green pasture of the Good Shepherd.

And so it is for you.

For what desolate place - or places! - do you find yourself in? There are no shortage of them in this world. Places of isolation, or loneliness, or emptiness, or struggle. Perhaps you are there because, like the apostles, Jesus has led you there - not to punish you, but to care for you. To take away all in which you put your trust, that you trust only in Him. Or perhaps you are there because, like the crowds, others have let you down. You have not received the care they should have given and that you needed. Or perhaps you are in such a place because you yourself have wandered off, looking for what you thought were greener pastures and tastier pleasures, only to find yourself entangled in satan’s sinful web of lies and deception. Or maybe it is all of the above. But make no mistake about it, however you got there, desolate places are difficult places.

So sometimes we think we shouldn’t be in such places. That if Jesus really loved you, He wouldn’t take you there. Or that if Jesus really loved you, He wouldn’t let you be in such a situation. Or that if you really loved Jesus, you wouldn’t have wandered off. And with such thoughts, our desolate places become even more desolate, as satan uses these times and places to try to drive us to doubt and despair.

But do you see? Do you see, O child of God, how satan tries to use these lies and your sin to define you? To define your situation? To define love? He wants to make you think your experiences and feelings define the truth. That if it feels good it is good, that if it feels bad it is bad, and that whatever you feel is the truth.

But it is not so. Not all pleasure is good, and not all struggle is bad. And there are lots of changes in this world, and changes in you. To base truth on anything in you or anything in this world is to have a truth that you can never be certain of and never rely on, and so a truth that is constantly changing, constantly shifting, and so in the end no truth at all. It is to have no foundation on which to stand, on which to live.

But we do have such a foundation! For in the midst of this world of change and desolate places, there is one thing that never changes, where truth is to be found. One thing from outside of us, come into our world, upon which we can base our hope and put our faith. And that is the cross of Jesus. The cross, which is the desolate place of all desolate places, which our Saviour has turned into the greenest pasture of all.

For the cross shows us truth of the desolation of our sin. It is the cursed tree with no branches, the place of separation, the altar of agony and death. It is what you deserve because of your sin. But the cross also shows us the truth of the love of God, for when you look at that cross, it is not you on it - but another. Another who has taken your place. Another who has taken your sin, your curse, your guilt, your punishment, your death, that it all be His and not yours. That He be the prisoner and you be set free. And that is possible and true, because the One hanging there is not just another, but God Himself. The Son of God come in love to give Himself for you.

And so the cross is where the lovelessness of sin and the sinlessness of love come together, and love wins. The love of God. [The next seven statements based upon the seven last words of Christ from the cross.] The love of God who is forsaken, so that you will never be. The love of God who thirsts, that you may drink His living water and never thirst again. The love of God who lays down His life for His Bride, the Church. The love of God who promises us Paradise through His blood. The love of God who says “Father, forgive them.” The love of God who gives His Spirit to you. The love of God who dies your death, that you may live His life. His life, for He is not dead, but risen! For death cannot reign where sin is atoned for and forgiven.

And that is the love and truth and victory that came to Annalise and Patricia this morning - and which came to you - in the waters of Holy Baptism. For although it looked quite ordinary, or like something we were doing, what happened there was quite extraordinary and something our Saviour was doing. For there, the lovelessness of their sin and the sinlessness of God’s love came together, and love won. Their sins are washed away, they are children of God, and have the promise of eternal life.

And that is the love and truth and victory that came together for you this morning in the Absolution. For although those words sounded quite ordinary, or like something we are doing, what happened there was quite extraordinary and something our Saviour was doing. For there, the lovelessness of your sin and the sinlessness of God’s love came together, and love won. For His Word - which always does what it says - said to you: “I forgive you all your sins.” And in that forgiveness you were raised from death to life again.

And that is the love and truth and victory that comes to us this morning on the altar in the Lord’s Supper. For although this looks quite ordinary, or like something we are doing, what happens here is quite extraordinary and something our Saviour is doing. For here, the lovelessness of our sin and the sinlessness of God’s love come together, and love wins. We eat and drink the body and blood of Jesus, our sins are forgiven, and we receive His life and salvation.

And so in the midst of our desolation - the desolation of sin, the desolation of the world, the desolation that seeks to overwhelm you - Jesus has firmly planted His cross, to do His greatest work in you. To turn your desolate place into the greenest pasture of all with the abundance of His gifts. To feed you and care for you and shepherd you. Though all the world forsake you or leave you or turn against you - He never will. For you have His promise, that He is here for you. Always.

Perhaps, though, sometimes He will have to lead you to that desolate place Himself, like with His apostles, that you lie down in these green pastures. Perhaps sometimes you will run to them, like the crowds, because you are hungry. Or perhaps, lost in your sin, your Saviour will send a messenger to you, to bring that green pasture to you. For remember, there were twelve baskets full leftover. One for each apostle. Not for them to eat, but as Jesus said, for them to give “you something to eat.” And so for them to continue to give His gifts, His life, His salvation. Wherever they go. In every place and every time. That no one be without. That in big churches or little churches, in groups of fifties or hundreds, all be fed by our Saviour, who is the Bread of Life. Fed first by His Word, then fed by His meal, that our desolate places be desolate no more, but be green pastures of life, forgiveness, and love.

And so it is as we sang:
The Church’s One Foundation is Jesus Christ, her Lord.
She is His new creation, by water and the Word.
From heav’n He came and sought her To be His holy bride;
With His own blood He bought her, And for her life He died. (LSB #644, v. 1)

That is the foundation proclaimed by the prophets and the apostles, and the truth upon which we now stand. And there is no other. There is no other truth on which we can rely. No other Shepherd who can give us life. No other Saviour who can overcome sin and death. Only one. And He is here, for you.

And that makes a difference in everything we do. That we have a place to stand and a truth that will not change or let us down. That no matter what others say, no matter what others do to us, when we stumble in sin and fall flat on our faces, when we feel like we are in exile and desolation, when we finally succumb to death and the grave - in all these things there is one constant which will never let us down: our Saviour, whose Strong Word created you, redeemed you, and will one day restore you, when He calls you from your grave and is for you forever what He is for you now: The Lord our Righteousness.

So even,
Through toil and tribulation And tumult of her war
[We] wait the consummation Of peace forevermore
Til with the vision glorious [Our] longing eyes are blest,
And the great Church victorious Shall be the Church at rest. (LSB #644, v. 4)

At rest in green pastures forevermore.

In the Name of the Father and of the (+) Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Now the peace of God which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds through faith in Christ Jesus, our Lord. Amen.

The door was left open as we were getting ready to go for a walk with Kashi and Smokey flew out. I cannot face another loss, another death.

I fell three times at work, so when I arrived home, as soon as I let Kashi out, I collapsed on the couch for a nap. A five hour nap.

Bettina arrives tomorrow for a visit. She tells me not to worry about my dirty home and empty refrigerator, but I do regret that I am more inclined to go back to bed than to make any genuine effort to prepare for her arrival. So low am I that I even asked her to bring toilet paper since she was making a trip to Wal-Mart today! I wish I were a better host....

For a while now, I have literally been doing much of my boss's work, as well as that of the communications coordinator who left in April. Today, I learned that I will also be doing some of the work of the director of resident services. My boss's idea that she take over program design since it is not being done was translated into tasking me with researching the target population and drafting a framework for the program. I was so speechless at the assignment, that my boss kept asking me if I was okay. No, I am not okay! While my Ph.D. does make me a likely candidate for doing the work, I would like to do that which I was hired for and am still responsible for completing despite everything else, not more of that for which others are being paid. Today, it was difficult to turn the other cheek.

Then, I lost my temper with Dell and had to ask for forgiveness of a total stranger, who, of course, did not understand why I was apologizing. I had to have my hard drive replaced on my almost new GREEN laptop. They sent the wrong one two days in a row, trying my patience and resulting in great ire and much shedding of tears. [I HATE MS.] My warranty guarantees that I would have my computer repaired next business day, or in other words Monday. It took three additional business days to effect a repair. [Pastor D, note which word I used there.] I am lost without my laptop! Still, just because there was a significant bungling of service in this situation and even though my emotional filters have been shredded by MS, the technician who arrived to replace the hard drive without the hard drive in hand (he came back a few hours later instead of tomorrow as he first suggested) did not deserve the biting criticism I had to offer.

I am sure you will not think that this naturally follows, but I spent much of the day thinking about Sunday and being baptized. You see, I am the queen of compartmentalizing. One part of my brain can plow through my tasks, while another is worrying about tomorrow's doctor's appointment, and still another trying to understand how I feel about Pastor's offer. Yes, I am still giddy. [You can snicker; I don't blame you for even I do not recognize myself in such a state.] But I am also quite sober about the whole notion of being given the gift of this Sacrament.

So, when I awoke a while ago, I thought I would re-read the Large Catechism section on the Creed. While it is generally accepted that jumping straight to the end usually ruins the message, in this case it is my favorite part.

I have known the Creed even before God gave me the Holy Spirit to understand it. In fact, it is the oldest memory I have. The words have a familiarity that brings comfort in and of itself, so the fact that it is a part of the liturgy at Pastor's church is special to me. For all the cheese holes in my brain, it was not that hard for me to memorize it once more.

Then, of course, there is the message of the Creed. The breadth and depth of the work of God, of the Word, in our world summed so succinctly, yet one can spend a lifetime studying and still not comprehend the magnitude of these few lines.

But I digress.

The Apostle's Creed

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.

And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried. He descended into hell. The third day He rose again from the dead. He ascended into heaven and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty. From thence He will come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Christian Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.

Amen.


These articles of the Creed, therefore, divide and separate us Christians from all other people on earth. (LC, Part 11, 66)

The whole world with all diligence has struggled to figure out what God is, what He has in mind and does. Yet the world has never been able to grasp the knowledge and understanding of any of these things. But here we have everything in richest measure. For here in all three articles God has revealed Himself and opened the deepest abyss of His fatherly heart and His pure, inexpressible love (Ephesians 3:18-19). He has created us for this very reason, that He might redeem and sanctify us. (LC, Part II, 63-64)

From this you see that the Creed is a doctrine quite different from the Ten Commandments. For the Commandments teach what we ought to do. But the Creed tells what God does for us and gives to us. Furthermore, apart from this, the Ten Commandments are written in all people's hearts (Romans 2:15). However, no human wisdom can understand the Creed. It must be taught by the Holy Spirit alone (I Corinthians 2:12). The teaching of the Commandments, therefore, makes no Christian. For God's wrath and displeasure abide upon us still, because we cannot keep what God demands of us. But the Creed brings pure grace and makes us godly and acceptable to God. (LC, Part II, 67-68)

Pure grace. Inexpressible love. Everything in richest measure. For us. For me. For you. All taught by the Holy Spirit because God wants us to know Him, to understand, to receive His gift of salvation.

The words of the Creed are not just words. They are the Word. They are life!