Drawn

I went to church today. This is no surprise to some, but may be to others - particularly those who I told that I was going to observe folks outside of church during my sabbatical. You see, as a pastor, I don't get to see people outside of church very often on Sundays. I guess you could say that I'm paid to be there, and since some folks figure that is the one day a week that I'm working, I try not to skip too many. Even when I'm on vacation, I'll usually find a church to attend somewhere, and it is a treat for me (and for my parishioners) when I get to hear someone other than myself preaching.

Week one, we attended "church" at the amazing outdoor "cathedral" that God built in Glacier National Park. The picture is one of countless views of God's workmanship, which we observed with folks who had joined us from all over the world.

For week two, the kids and I floated down the Deschutes River in Bend, Oregon. Bend is an outdoorsy place, and there were many who joined us down by the river, often with their dogs, playing catch in and out of the gentle flow.

I spent week three in the place where many folks spend a few hours on Sunday - at a golf course. My friend Paul (the best man at our wedding, but not the apostle, although he has traveled quite a bit of the world) and I played 18 at a course whose Sunday special included a cart and lunch. The day was a reminder that sin, in the form of three-putts, is always crouching at the door.

Even though we are thoroughly enjoying our sabbatical journey, all has not been rosy and wonderful. Sarah and Nathan love to get on each other's nerves and other body parts, which in turn puts Evie's and my nerves on edge. They're wonderful kids - sort of like bleach and ammonia are great cleaning agents - but together they can create a rather toxic environment. Since we can't really get away from them, and we can't really put them in cages, Evie and I sometimes get on each other's nerves, just to survive, and so that we don't leave the kids at a rest stop. It's not that we want to get one each other's nerves, but survival can be one of those lower-order needs that is always demanding satisfaction. The fuse is only so long.

So we left Bend on Thursday and the trip to the coast was sort of a catastrophe. We enjoyed Crater Lake National Park on the way, but there's no easy way to get from Crater Lake to our destination near Gold Beach. I decided to let the Garmin tell us where to go, which is usually a pretty safe thing to do. Evie shared with me (about two hours into an endless nightmare of winding, single lane, two-way logging roads shared exclusively by us and vans towing rafts going way too fast in the other direction) that perhaps it might have been a good thing to compare the Garmin's route with the Road Atlas to see if it was sending us the best way (did you know that Rand McNally now markets their road atlas as a "GPS Companion"?). We were about halfway through the forest, and I doubted that we'd arrive.

There's no town here, no main street, just a few homes and a sign that reads "Ophir." We had coffee, but no grinder, so I headed into Gold Beach on Friday morning to balance my blood-caffeine levels and hopefully find a grinder. My first stop was the coffee shop near the intersection of the Pacific Ocean and the Rogue River. I sat down with a fresh cup and opened my journal, into which I wrote, "God, I'm at the end of my strength... Give me your grace, that I may face today with kindness and courage... Please carry me in these days when I cannot stand on my own. Amen."

As I wrote, I couldn't help overhearing the conversations of those around me in the shop. One fellow's conversation gave me the impression that he might be a minister, so after he left, I consulted the barista, who confirmed my intuition. The fellow's name is Tim, and he's the minister at Bethany Lutheran Church in Gold Beach (we'd been curious about the church on our way through town), and he drives the river boat six days a week (See? We pastors may only work one day a week, but some have another job, too!).

I found a grinder at the Ace Hardware in town, but I wondered if I might run into Pastor Tim again the next day at the coffee shop. No sign of him on Saturday morning, so I opened my journal again and began to write:

If I was a bigger fan of divine determinism, I'd wonder if the events of these past weeks have been an attempt, along with Tim's presence here at the coffee shop, to get me back into a pew. I'll admit that I could use a bit of spiritual sustenance right now, but I'm on a path to believing that God calls persons to himself, not to pew-sitting. Pastor Tim is a gift (perhaps, as I have yet to meet the man) of God and of the Church, but I guess the point I'm trying to make is that the Church's gift is Christ, not herself. The Church peddles Christ, not a place in the pews. Nevertheless, the Church has the sacraments that can sustain us. I presently desire the Eucharist, that "good gift" which reminds us that we belong to a community, to a body, to Christ. I long for the water to remind me of who I am, that my identity and value are as God's Beloved. The Church reminds me of this: I am not alone, and I am loved. As the Church recognizes these truths and begins to convince the world of their veracity, she will not only survive, but thrive. I am not drawn to a pew, but to be part of a people convinced that God is real, loves us, and wants us to share that love. Amen.

So we got up this morning, had breakfast, and went to church at Bethany Lutheran. We met Pastor Tim, who turned out to be a delightful pastor. As guests, we were given a Mason jar full of beans and a soup recipe. We worshiped, singing "Softly and Tenderly, Jesus is Calling." The Gospel lesson was from Mark 6, where we heard Jesus tell his disciples, "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while." After the service, I set up a golf outing with Pastor Tim (when he's not driving the boat), and we enjoyed the rich fellowship that Bethany had to offer. It was warm, it was genuine, and it was what we all needed.

Divine determinism? I think it's more like what God inspired Jeremiah to write for this morning's Old Testament reading: "'I myself will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the lands where I have driven them, and I will bring them back to their fold, and they shall be fruitful and multiply. I will raise up shepherds over them who will shepherd them, and they shall not fear any longer or be dismayed, nor shall any be missing,' says the Lord." God is always drawing us to himself - and sometimes, when we pay attention, we can get a glimpse of his open arms.