My 'Miss Leynse Lesson'

I enjoyed school. In fact, as I look back on it, I would say I loved it.  But there were two subjects with which I struggled greatly: 4^th grade penmanship and any grade math.  But one of the most important lessons about life I learned was from my 4^th grade teacher, Miss Leynse.  I am thinking about Miss Leynse because yesterday my assistant was struggling to read my notes about the church bulletin content.  I apologized for my poor penmanship and told her it was not Miss Leynse’s fault. I know how to write proper cursive, but too often I write in haste, failing to make the proper curves and humps which make cursive writing a joy to read.  You see, it’s not that Miss Leynse didn’t teach me well. It’s that I don’t always remember my “Miss Leynse Lesson”.

I remember the day. The sun was shining. The windows were open. My classmates were outside for recess. And I was sitting at my desk, pencil to the lined paper, writing rows of “m” and “n.” I was struggling with getting the second “hump” on each of the “m’s”, not because I didn’t know how, but because I was in a hurry to get outside with Billy and Duane and Suzie and Cindy and the rest. So, I took my paper up to Miss Leynse, seated at her neatly arranged wooden desk, handed it to her and confessed, “some of the “m’s” have only one hump, but is this good enough?”  She didn’t even look at my paper. She just looked into my eyes and said, “Billy, it’s good enough when it’s right.” She handed the paper back to me. I retreated to my desk and I made all the malformed letters into proper m m m m m m m m m. And then  I ran outside to the cement playground for the few minutes remaining before the loud bell rang.                          

I think of my Miss Leynse story often, and I tell it every time someone will listen to it.  I cannot tell you how many times I have said to myself, “Billy, it’s not good enough until it’s right.”  Miss Leynse was both my second and fourth grade teacher at Sheboygan Christian School, where in those critical years I learned about life and academics and God with the same thirty classmates. I can recall nearly all of my elementary school teachers and tell you stories about them.  I am who I am today because these were teachers, along with my later in life teachers, who heard and responded to the call to teach children.  And while Miss Leynse couldn’t cure me of my habit of rushing through “details”, she could teach me about not settling for “good enough” in life.

Your children and grandchildren are back in school.  They have teachers who are forming their lives. If it was up to me, I would make sure all teachers heard “thank you for forming my child” at every opportunity.  The future of our society, indeed, of the world, depends on teachers who respond to God’s call to teach children.  Each day, every teacher could be giving every child a “Miss Leynse story” which they will carry with them for the rest of their lives.  Have we told our children to listen well?  We, as a society, should make sure that we honor, respect and thank people who every day put up with the demands and challenges of their teaching jobs because they want to help some little Billy or Suzie know what it means to be valuable and valued as a child. 

I should send Miss Leynse a note.

Found and Waiting

I was searching through our church’s “Lost and Found” yesterday.  It was a part of my sermon research on the stories about the Lost Sheep and the Lost Coin (Luke 15:1-10).  I was struck by the contents: lots of clothing articles; a child’s backpack, some jewelry articles and, of most interest to me, several pairs of reading glasses.  I had a picture in my mind of people somehow connected to our church who either decided reading wasn’t all that important to them, or they adapted by extending their arms full length to hold their reading material.  

Why have these articles been sitting in a cardboard box marked “Lost and Found” for so long a time?  Are none of these items of enough value to the owners to justify returning to church to retrieve them? Or, perhaps the owners simply could not recall where they “lost” these items.  But, if they were of real value to the owners, they would have retraced their steps, right?  Am I the only who obsesses over things of mine that my wife or co-workers have misplaced, leaving them in a state of being lost to me?

Anyway, I was thinking about what we could do to fix this problem. One, I suppose, is to move the box out of the coat closet.  A better solution, I think, would be to rename the box. Instead of “Lost and Found”, I am thinking we could go with “Found and Waiting.”  You see, the term “Lost and Found” is not accurate, at least not from the viewpoint of the original owner.  The owner lost her reading glasses. The cleaning service “found” them and turned them in to the office. So, at this point, the glasses are no longer lost, but they are awaiting their return to the rightful owner.  They have been found, but they await reconnecting with the owner who “lost” them. (This word also bothers me. The glasses were really just misplaced. They were not “lost”, as in “unfindable.” They were not “lost”; they were just “not yet found.”)

So, if we changed the label to “Found and Waiting” perhaps the found items would be of greater interest. People would wonder whether there was some valuable or interesting item of their own just waiting to be reclaimed.  The fact is that, if we don’t do something soon we will need to discard the items in the box, and then they really will be lost in some trash dump on their way to incineration. We need to motivate people to start searching. “We found your glasses. You can read again if only you will claim them!” Alas, it seems that the owners have decided the glasses are not worth the effort to retrieve, or they have given up hope of finding them.

Glasses are not people. People have an Owner who deeply desires that everyone be “found”, and this Owner never gives up hope. Which brings me back to where I started. Do you think you are lost? Do you know you are found? Are you waiting for your Owner to come back for you? Perhaps some servant is being sent to let you know you have been claimed, to free you from the box today!  Do you want to be retrieved, or do you prefer life in the box?

Monday's Hope

It’s Labor Day.  Monday. 

It’s a good morning for a long walk. It’s Monday, but it’s Labor Day, which in its somewhat oxymoronic definition means I am not required to labor. So I walk…

Past the apple tree that so shortly ago held the promise of beautiful blossoms and now bears the fruit of the tree’s labor. It’s Labor Day.  And I walk on…

Past the beach entrance which reminds us that the beach is open from Memorial Day to Labor Day.  It’s Labor Day. Monday. Already. And I keep walking…

Looking down the babbling brook that feeds the still pond which overlooks the lake which holds people trying to find a final summer memory to hold onto while wrapped in blankets next January.

And past that same apple tree once more.  A few of the apples have fallen, I see.  I wonder why. Are they ripe already?  Did the wind get them and if so, why those apples and not the others?

It’s a week after the Monday my friend and co-worker for Jesus and Hope died.  At age 51.  Her husband eulogized her best: “She had a good life. Too short.”  I thought about Barb as I walked on…

It’s Labor Day. Summer is over, even though the sun would disagree.  As I walked and thought of beaches and water and apple trees, I saw a tiny caterpillar ‘racing’ to get to the other side…

It’s Labor Day. Monday. Summer is over. Again. BUT… 

Summer is coming again. The melancholy of Labor Day Monday is the environment needed to produce hope…make that Hope.

As in “Sure Hope”:  the trees will blossom, the beach will open, the people will return for new memory-making, the caterpillar will fly.  Barb lives, to be seen again.  Monday’s Hope.

So I keep walking…and waiting…and looking for signs…“Open up the heavens/We want to see you/…. Show us, show us your glory, Lord.” (Meredith Andrews, Open Up the Heavens)

Where Will We Be Seated?

I’m going to a wedding reception tonight. (Yes, I am going to the wedding as well, so don’t start on me about that.) I don’t know what you think about when you are invited to a wedding reception, but I am wondering where we will be seated.  The pattern most wedding reception planners follow is that numbers are assigned to tables and then the guests are assigned to a table number. And then the fun really begins, when you find out who shares your table number.

I still hold out some hope for Table 1, but since I only know the bride through my wife, and since I don’t know the groom at all, I am guessing my hope is misplaced.  I won’t get served first. Maybe we’ll be near the front, right in the line of sight with the wedding party, and then everyone will know I am there. People will think that I am someone important, being seated so near the front.  I can hope. But, being realistic, I guess the most I can really hope for is that I don’t get served last.  I suppose I could try to move up a few tables, going around telling people that I have to get home early, asking them to trade places with me.  Maybe I could buy my way to the front. 

In reality, of course, I don’t want to sit in the front. And I certainly don’t want to be seated right next to the dance floor. The expectations are simply too high that I am going to do the Chicken Dance. I can never get it right, and I look like someone having uncontrolled muscle spasms, so better that I have that table in the far corner.

I don’t know where I am sitting tonight, and that really doesn’t matter. What I do know is that I will be seated at a table with the woman I love and with good friends.  I know this because my wife and her friend told me we would be seated together.  I don’t know how women know things like this in advance, but I am glad they shared the secret of the seating chart with me.  You see, it’s not so much a question of where you are seated at the banquet that matters, it’s a question of who you are seated with.  That’s why the seating chart planners spend so much time on it.  They want everyone to have a good time around the tables, whatever the number.

That’s what it is like in the Kingdom of Jesus.  Don’t fight to get the best seat. Take joy in that you are invited, friends. Know that Jesus has been planning the Banquet seating for a long time, and the people you will be dining with at the Table will be the perfect tablemates.  People you love. People with whom you can share a memory, a laugh, a hug.  People you want to be with for an eternity.  I am not going to miss that party.  You’ll be there, right?  Jesus is saving a seat for us.

It's Never Just a Handshake

When human beings touch a message is sent.  When human beings refuse an offer to touch an even stronger message is sent.

The Olympics value sportsmanship and one of the ways that this value is displayed is in the handshake (or hug) following a competition.  It can be understandably difficult to touch the person who has just defeated you on an international stage, who has perhaps denied you a lifetime goal.  Yet, we take for granted that following sporting events, especially at the Olympics level, competition ends with a handshake.

So it was newsworthy when Israeli heavyweight judoka Or Sasson extended his hand to Islam El Shehaby, his Egyptian opponent, whom he had just defeated in a first-round match. Mr. El Shehaby backed away from the offered hand of the victor, refusing to shake his hand.  The disharmony between the Egyptians and the Jews is of course the plot line of one of the most famous stories in the Bible, the Exodus.  Over the centuries, it seems, things haven’t really improved. While the governments of the two nations engage in diplomatic relations, there is still great tension among the people, mostly due to their differing religious beliefs. Mr. El Shehaby is, according to one news source, an “ultraconservative Salafi Muslim”. He explained his actions by stating that a handshake is not required in judo rules and that shaking hands is for friends, of which Mr. Sasson is not one.  Mr. El Shehaby was reprimanded for his actions, and, depending on who you believe, he may have been sent home early.

Now, we might say, “Well, it’s just a handshake. What’s the big deal?”  But, on the Olympic stage, it’s never “just a handshake.”  The whole point of the Olympics is to seek to find ways for nations as war, through their athletes, to exist in peace in the arena.

That’s the way we should look at handshakes in real life too. Is there someone who, given the opportunity, you would not want to shake his or her hand?  If so, why? What is the message that this form of human touch sends that makes you recoil from it?  You know how it is after two people are fighting, how those in charge will say, “now shake hands and move on.”  Those handshakes are never sincere, but they are a first step in overcoming whatever divides them.  It’s the effort at human touch that begins healing. It’s never just a handshake.

I think it was right to discipline Mr. El Shehaby.  No religion should espouse the practice of refusing to touch those with whom we disagree. Make a list of the people you don’t want to shake hands with and then commit to doing so the next time you see them. So far as it depends on you, make peace.  Someone said, “Love your enemies”, right?

"Everything That Has Breath"

My week ended talking to the horses.  To be clear on this, let me state up front, they did not talk back, at least not in a way I could comprehend.  My week began with a video of our grand-dog howling away as he listened to a goose call.  My daughter's laugh, heard on the video, as she was watching her big puppy "sing", was the sound of love mixed with joy.

Later I toured the wooded lot of a friend, which comes complete with a large pond, paths that lead to a river, and quiet spots next to a bubbling brook for meditation.  During the course of our tour we saw frogs who seemed to welcome us to their pond as old friends. We saw toads engaged in the spring ritual of creating new life, although our host did admonish them for their lack of discretion in choosing to mate in public.  Of course, the toads may have been wondering about why we were staring at them...this was their yard after all.  One certainly had a great sense of the rhythm of life wandering past bird's nest and rushing water.

My week was capped with an invitation to bless a horse cared for and ridden by the daughter of a some friends of ours.  When I said "yes" to the invitation the word spread throughout the barn and by the time our blessing service was set to occur there was a parade of about ten horses and their riders waiting to be blessed.  I was introduced to them all by name: Maxx, and his friends.  They were beautiful animals.  The caretaker of one told me that her horse was crabby that day.  When I asked how she knew, she made a face that somehow managed to perfectly capture the look on her horse's face, and it did indeed look crabby.

I offered a prayer written by an archbishop of Canterbury which begins, "O Lord, give us humility to thank You for the creation of animals, who can show affection which sometimes puts us to shame. Enlarge our respect for these your creatures, of who we are the guardians."  That line captures an idea that is as old as God’s promise to Noah that God loves all of his creation and the creatures in it, and he appoints human beings as the caretakers, or guardians of God's creatures. So, the blessing I offered properly states of the animals, "May we respect them and cherish them for they are Your gift to us; through them may we come to know You better and praise you, their Creator."

I grew up singing a hymn, now a favorite, that he wrote, "All creatures of our God and King, Lift up your voice and with us sing, "Alleluia!"  A more current take on that idea is in the song which declares "Let Everything that has Breath Praise the Lord,"  That is our privilege as the guardians of God's creatures, to nourish and protect them so that they can sing Alleluia. I can't be sure if our grand-dog was singing "Alleluia" or crying "please stop!"  I don't know if the horses could sense that I was trying to bring God's blessing into their barn and over their pasture.  I wonder whether the frogs were welcoming to their pond or wishing I would go away.  But, the week was a blessing for me because I was reminded that we do not walk this earth alone.  I was reminded, as Paul tells us, that "all creation" waits for the restoration of the new Kingdom.  So, this week, as you feed your birds, as you play with your pets, as you search for creatures along rivers and wooded paths, remember to invite them to sing "Alleluia!"  And don't forget to sing with them.

(This entry is from 2010, but offered anew in honor of a friend’s dog who died this week. As we mourned together, I was reminded how dear are all God’s creatures.)

"Woes and Visions"

The voice of the Church in the World should speak the Word and the words of God.

The voice of the Church speaks Judgment upon evil; Forgiveness of Sin and sins; and Love which covers a multitude of wrongs.

The voice of the Church speaks its unique comfort of Hope into hopeless times; its piercing yet warm Light into the darkest corners; its vision of the new Jerusalem where God dwells with mortals.

When people defy authority with violent means it is then the duty of the Church to say that “Blue Lives Matter.”  God has ordered society and the Church is called to be a voice for orderly peace, seeking to ensure that the police who act within the law and their authority are respected and protected. 

Yet the Church speaks for justice for those who are persecuted wrongly, who are judged because of the color of their skin or the zip code of their home.  So the Church says that “Black Lives Matter.”  The work of the Church is to encourage the non-violent, peaceful “speech” which can be effective in rendering just change without invoking civil unrest, so far as it depends on them.

To those who plot evil, the Church’s voice speaks: “Woe to those who plan iniquity, to those who plot evil on their beds! ...The LORD says: “I am planning disaster against this people.” (Micah 2:1,3)

To those who seek to bring a Word of Salvation into a desperate, dying world, the Church’s voice speaks: “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8)

Judgment rests with God. May the Church speak Love, through its thousands of churches speaking into their communities demands for justice and cries for mercy. May the Church’s Pilgrims of Hope walk with the humility which comes from knowing that they walk with God and that they are not gods. May God grant the Church the platform and the courage to speak the Word of Life today.