From the pastor

February 1, 2004

I have just been sitting in front of the fireplace with the cat on my lap. It was hard to push her off, walk away from the fire, and discipline myself to begin this writing. Sabbath interrupted.

It is almost 6:30 a.m. and the outdoors is a hodgepodge of black and gray. The trees and houses are distinctly black, but the backdrop is a lively, quickening gray. Something is about to be born: the light of a new day. I am witnessing the borning of light for a new day. And it’s right outside my window!

There are harbingers, foreshadowings of this about-to-be-born daily light. I look across the backyards and see my own kitchen light reflecting back at me from my neighbor’s northwest window. I see the dancing lights of the fireplace reflecting in the cat’s eyes. The sun, not yet visible, now is reflecting its light in the clouds on the eastern horizon. Give us this day our daily light. We begin with small bits from the fireplace, from an electric light bulb, from the indirect lighting of a sun not yet risen. And in a few moments, we may hum, "Morning has broken, like the first morning."

Early winter mornings are times for seeking light and heat. When I was growing up, I would head for the kitchen first thing on a winter morning. The stove was a good place to stand. A heat register would also do fine, if they weren’t all taken. And I notice this morning that things haven’t changed much. I long to linger by the fireplace. The cat longs to linger on a warm lap. There’s a space heater near my writing table, and I don’t mind at all keeping my feet to the fire in this manner.

As I think about getting dressed up and heading for the church, there is a parable in all this for me. I believe the church to be a gift of light and warmth. Jesus said, "You are the light of the world." And we have stories of the fellowship and food Jesus shared with friends and neighbors. The human warmth of our Lord emanates from those stories. I pray and hope that amidst our ambitions and human foibles, our congregation might always be faithful in reflecting the light and warmth of Jesus.

With this deep cold, I find myself inside the house more than usual. I’ve long had this romantic notion that winter’s weather confinements are a wonderful times for organizing things inside the house: like the family’s pictures, cupboards, closets, board games, books, files, papers, clothing, etc. But to be honest, these blissful notions lack sufficient inspiration to catapult me into action. So for those of you who draw comfort in knowing that I am no better than you, rest assured that my closets and cupboards remain chaotic. I still have to be careful getting my hat and gloves out of the hallway closet lest a dozen or so games of chess, Balderdash, Rummikub, Yahtzee, Clue, and Monopoly come crashing down on my head.

Keep warm. Enjoy the light. Treasure our church. Trust God. Peace from me to you. --Mike