Boston, Bombs, and Bill

Boston, Bombs, and Bill

            All of us have been struggling to catch our breath in the midst of all the events of this past week.  It has been a whirlwind:  the bombing at the Boston Marathon, a manhunt, an explosion in Texas, floods in Chicago, poison letters in the mail, battles over guns, and oh by the way, a young and reckless leader in North Korea threatening to use his nuclear weapons.

            News anchors and reporters typically see it all.  Even so, I was taken back to see them taken back yesterday morning.  Today (Friday) they were struggling to find words to describe the activities in Boston.  They stumbled and just resorted to terms like “unprecedented” or “I’ve never seen anything like this before…”

            What do we do when the foundations shake?  Psalm 46 says:

“God is our refuge and our strength, an ever-present help in trouble.  Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging…..Be still and know that I am God…” (Psalm 46:1-3, 10)

            As most of you, I have been inspired by the pictures and the stories around Bill Iffrig.  He was the 78 year old runner that was knocked over by the concussion from one of the bombs just fifteen feet from the finish line.  The picture of his fall has gone viral and is on the recent cover of Sports Illustrated.  In an interview, he spoke how his legs suddenly went wobbly in the blast and he went down.  Some folks helped him up and despite the chaos he finished the race.  Many around him offered him a wheelchair, but he refused, preferring to walk the remaining six blocks to his hotel.

            What Bill did is what people of faith do.  Things do happen.  Things occur which knock us over.  Evil wins battles but never the war.  Things feel wobbly and many of us would like to quit.  But then, we get up.  People help us.  We catch our breath, and we continue our way to the finish line.  We do so, not because we are great and strong on our own, but because the foundation upon which we run is stronger than even the explosions that happen around us.  As such, as Psalm 46 states, “we don’t fear though the earth give way”.  We can “be still and know that (he) is God…”

            In all the tragedies, we have a choice.  We can focus on the bombers and the bombs.  Or, we can look at Bill and the thousands of incredible heroes and heroines who offered assistance, who helped Bill up, who go after the bad guys.  Sometimes, getting up depends on where we are looking.  If we look to the finish line, look to the folks around us who help, and not just as the bombs or rumbling earth, we may very well see the living God, who reminds us to be still and keep running. 

            Please join me in praying for all our friends in Boston, and all around us who are still trying to get up and finish this race God has offered us.  Let’s talk more about this in worship this weekend.  See you there,

In Christ,

Pastor Pete

Burning Bush Holiness

               This weekend, we are going to be continuing our “Fire” series, and will be speaking to the story of Moses and the burning bush.  Though we get caught up around many different things within the story, one of the main elements is simply a picture of God’s holiness.  The bush burns with that mysterious holiness of God which at the same time draws us in and makes us fall back in fear.

          We are going to unpack that story in worship with some detail, but this morning, a friend sent me an amazing email which offers an inspiring example of what it means to live a “holy life”.  On Thursday, President Obama posthumously presented the Congressional Medal of Honor to Chaplain Emil J. Kapaun. 

 

          President Obama’s remarks indicated that Chaplain Kapaun served during the Korean War and was among the first American troops that hit the beaches. During a surprise attack by 20,000 Chinese soldiers, he dragged the wounded to safety.  He stayed during an ordered evacuation, tending to the wounded and dying.  When over a dozen wounded Americans were about to be gunned down, Father Kapaun pleaded with a Chinese officer and convinced him to call out to his fellow Chinese.  The shooting stopped and they negotiated a safe surrender, saving those American lives.   Then, as Father Kapaun was being led away, he saw another American -- wounded, unable to walk, laying in a ditch, defenseless.  An enemy soldier was standing over him, rifle aimed at his head, ready to shoot.  Father Kapaun marched over and pushed the enemy soldier aside.  And then as the soldier watched, stunned, Father Kapaun carried that wounded American away.  He carried that injured American, for miles. When other prisoners stumbled, he picked them up.  When they wanted to quit -- knowing that stragglers would be shot -- he begged them to keep walking.  In the camps that winter, deep in a valley, men could freeze to death in their sleep.  Father Kapaun offered them his own clothes.  They starved on tiny rations of millet and corn and birdseed.  He somehow snuck past the guards, foraged in nearby fields, and returned with rice and potatoes.  In desperation, some men hoarded food.  He convinced them to share.  Their bodies were ravaged by dysentery.  He grabbed some rocks, pounded metal into pots and boiled clean water.  They lived in filth.  He washed their clothes and he cleansed their wounds. The guards ridiculed his devotion to his Savior and the Almighty.  They took his clothes and made him stand in the freezing cold for hours.  Yet, he never lost his faith.  If anything, it only grew stronger.  At night, he slipped into huts to lead prisoners in prayer, saying the Rosary, administering the sacraments, offering three simple words:  “God bless you.”  One of them later said that with his very presence he could just for a moment turn a mud hut into a cathedral. That spring, he went further -- he held an Easter service and used the stole shown here in the picture as he celebrated Mass inside that prison camp. 

          It is interesting, one of the men in the audience at the ceremony Thursday was Herb Miller, the soldier that Father Kapaun saved in that ditch and then carried all those miles.

          For the church throughout the centuries, the stole represents holiness.  It reminds us as pastors and clergy that we are “set apart”, we are supposed to be different and testify to a holy God who desires a holy creation.  And yet, it was used so powerfully in the midst of so much pain and mess.  That is a powerful picture of what we will call Sunday, “burning bush holiness…”  Come join us as we talk more about it!   See you there