Roadwork, Pathways, and Transformations

The roadwork on Hendricks Avenue is endless.  I was warned when I first arrived in Jacksonville that “they” like to “work” on Hendricks Avenue every other year or so.  But ever since I arrived at St. Mark’s, “they” have been paving, stripping, repaving, and paving some more.  Some days I feel like Bill Murray in “Groundhog Day,” stuck in repetition.  Didn’t they pave this exact lane yesterday? 

Last week, I was sitting in traffic on University Blvd, waiting to turn on to Hendricks Avenue, and I heard the words of the prophet Isaiah in my head as John the Baptist is introduced in Luke 3, “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’”

If Advent is a season of anticipation and preparation, anxious yet patient waiting-- a season calling us to prepare the way for the king of kings and to straighten and smooth pathways-- then it seemed oddly appropriate that I sit in traffic waiting for a giant truck to lay a new, shiny path for me to journey on.  So I waited to turn right, said a prayer of thanksgiving that the return of Jesus was not dependent upon FL-DOT or Duval Asphalt, and then waited some more.

By the time you read this, Advent has come and gone (here’s to hoping we can say the same for the work on Hendricks).  We transitioned from Advent to Christmas, and now Christmas to Epiphany as the liturgical cycle continues.  But I wonder, have our lives been changed by all the hard work of Advent-- the waiting, anticipation, and preparation?  We spent a significant amount of emotional and spiritual energy preparing the way, making straight the paths, filling the valleys, and lowering the mountains.  Are we at all changed by the labor of Advent?  Or like Hendricks Avenue being “worked” on every other year, are we resigned to simply wait around for another time of waiting?  Do we wait for waiting’s sake because that’s what “we” like to do?

True, our waiting comes to somewhat of a culmination on Christmas Eve as we remember the birth of Christ but, deep down within our Christian identities, waiting is deeply rooted in the promised return of our Messiah.  And with every season of waiting-- active waiting-- the path is formed, reformed, and transformed.  Each cycle of waiting brings new light to the imperfections of our way.  Once corrected, lowered, raised, or straightened, our new, shiny way yields a renewed sense of waiting-- active, proclamation-filled waiting.  A re-reformed path should be easier to traverse, clearly marked with signs and direction. 

Maybe I’m naive and hopeful because I’m still new to Jacksonville, but I think the work on Hendricks Avenue will come to an end (even if temporary).  Then we will travel Hendricks again and again until such a time that it needs to be “worked” on once more. 

The same is true with us.  Advent was a season of waiting and preparation, making straight the paths.  Now that Advent has gone (and it will come again), how has your life in Christ been changed?  Illumined?  Reformed? Transformed?

© Pastor Daniel Locke, published 01.2019 in St. Mark's Lutheran January Messenger, Jax, FL.

Late Nights, Diapers, and Talks About Stewardship

In the final seconds of July, Sarah and I welcomed Bennet Alexander Locke into the world.  It was, by far, the happiest moment of our lives. Each and every day since then continues to be a celebration of life as we rejoice to God over our precious gift.  We are truly blessed, and we thank God for this new bundle of blessing. We are also grateful to you, our community of faith, for the continued love and support. Lastly, and we might be biased, but we think he is the cutest kid in the whole-wide world! It is safe to say we are smitten.

Let’s be honest for a moment, raising a newborn is truly a learning experience.   I doubt that anyone will be surprised when I say this, but newborns require a lot of attention, energy, and resources.  Resources! Oh my, the number of diapers, wipes, and sheer amount of laundry is impressive. To be clear, I knew this would be the case, but I never expected Bennet to treat it like a game.  Some days I am convinced that he accepts a self-challenge to surpass the previous day’s resource totals. I imagine he wakes up some mornings and thinks, “today is the day that I set a new record and empty out the supply!” 

Somewhere around the 10th day of his precious life, Bennet and I were hanging out in the middle of the night, which is one of his favorite things to do.  It was sometime in the early AM and mid diaper change. No details necessary, but Bennet and I were in the midst of a battle-- one of those challenge moments.  Finally I threw my hands up and I said, “Bennet, I think it’s time you and I had our first conversation about stewardship and what it means to be a good steward.”

Stewardship, really?!  What a silly thing to teach my 10-day old son.  My exhaustion-induced comment was a culmination and expression of my own frustration.  Obviously my newborn has no concept, understanding, or even imagination of stewardship, and yet it was my chief concern in that moment.   This (changing) table-side chat with Bennet developed into a deeper conversation about children and stewardship with Sarah the next morning. 

It is remarkable how having a child of my own changes, or at least enhances my concern for the future.  Suddenly there is a revelation-- a conviction, really-- that the decisions we make today greatly impact the future. And I’m not just talking about budgeting, debt, college funds, and allowances, but the way we use and misuse the resources God has given us in creation will affect our children’s lives.  Suddenly I have a deeper appreciation and concern for melting ice caps, drastic changes in weather patterns, rising temperatures, carbon emissions, deforestation, natural disaster, trash accumulation, recycling, and financial planning. This is stewardship. 

Becoming a father is not only a gift from God, but it is an exercise in faithful stewardship. It is a commitment to faith that we (the whole body of Christ) will care for this remarkably good creation.  Faith that the decisions and choices we make now, on behalf of our children and our grandchildren, our nieces and nephews, and our friends’ little ones, will preserve, sustain, and appreciate the gift God has given us.  Faith that our children will grow up in a world that daily teaches them about being a steward. 

Our commitment and call to stewardship is so much more than diaper changes, laundry cycles, or even money.  Our commitment and call to stewardship isn’t really even a choice. It is a gift of our creator and a foundational characteristic of our very being.  It is who we are. Stewardship is a life-long, daily way of living that appreciates, cares for, preserves, and boasts the very good creation that God has bestowed upon us.  Stewardship goes well beyond the here and now.

So, dear ones, as the children among us grow, laugh, challenge, and learn, it will always be a good time for a conversation about stewardship.  And I ask God to help and guide us, so that we may be good and faithful witnesses for our children and their just-beginning lives in Christ.

Originally published in the St. Mark's Messenger, September 2018.  Read the full Messenger here.

Ever Feel Stuck? - St. Mark's Messenger March 2018

Read the full Messenger here.

Have you ever found yourself in a moment of confliction? Have you experienced the kind of moment that leaves your stomach turning because you’re struggling to decide between two opposite, yet appealing choices? To be certain I don’t mean choosing between steak or chicken at the restaurant, or choosing Coke or Pepsi at the gas station. I don’t even mean choosing between FSU or Florida in a big game, however gut wrenching it might be.  

I am talking about the choices that conflict our spiritual and moral values. For example, defending a belief knowing that you’ll face ridicule, persecution, or ostracism. Choosing to defy authority and act with your conscience knowing that you’ll encounter retribution or punishment. “Fitting in” with the crowd for the sake of not being the victim even though you know the crowd is wrong.

There was a vacant lot across the street from the house in which I grew up. My friends and I were very fond of this vacant lot because the heavy tree line set it apart from the road and we could ride our bikes up the embankment and pretend we were in a fort. But what really made this lot a perfect childhood hideout was the pile of giant boulders carelessly tossed into the woods. The boulders were remnants from building the house across the street. The boulders were huge! They piled on top of one another, making pathways from one rock to the next. We could crawl, climb, and jump our way around this rock-fort while our imaginations run wild. I specifically remember one giant, flat rock that protruded from the ground. It towered next to a large, car-sized boulder, and the path-way between the two was quite narrow.

One day as my friends and I were racing among the rocks I stepped perfectly into the narrow pathway.  My foot was lodged tight and I fell flat on my face, barely able to catch myself. I was stuck. Literally, you could say that I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I was stuck, and as I screamed for help a full-body panic was set-off within me. I wiggled and struggled as hard as I could but it seemed that there was nothing I could do.

Our moments of confliction are much like my foot landing perfectly between the rocks. It was never my intention to become stuck, nor did I ever expect that I would be caught in such a precarious, panic-inducing situation and yet, there I was-- between a rock and a hard place.  

What is your reaction in a situation of conflict? What is your response when you are metaphorically stuck between a rock and a hard place? Each of us are confronted daily with difficult, moral and spiritual choices. We weigh the options, anticipate all reactions and consequences, and then choose.

Friends, the good news is that we are not alone in these situations and experiences. On Wednesday nights during Lent we will continue to hear, reflect, and identify with various moments of personal struggle in the Bible. Each Wednesday we will meet a character caught between a rock and a hard place. Let us continue to learn together through these Bible stories how to journey with Christ through a conflict-ridden, difficult world.  

The In-Between - St. Mark's Messenger Feb. 2018

Read the full Messenger here.

Exec meeting.  Council meeting. Various committee meetings.  Visit parishioners.  Write sermon.  Finish Installation bulletin.  Start next week’s sermon. Review bulletin.  Return E-mails.  Be installed.  Contact new visitors.  Write Messenger Article.   Check one box then add two more.  The cycle continues.

I do my best to keep a running to-do list.  I maintain a notebook that has notes from various meetings, observations and ideas, and above all my to-do lists.  But as quickly as I complete one task, two more take its place.  As the list grows and evolves so does the need to prioritize and re-assess, weighing what is most important or most urgent.  So I create a new list, reorganizing again and again, prioritizing the various tasks.  I know that I make the list, but somehow the list seems to have power over me.

I think the revolving to-do list is indicative of life, constantly adding and completing tasks.  Work project due.  Kid’s practice.  Bill due.  Doctor’s appointment. Write paper.   One task after the other we become beholden to our endless to-dos, organizing and prioritizing our lists, day after day, week after week.  We all have lists, whether we write them down or not.  And before we know it we’re stuck in a rut or routine, a metaphorical plateau.  We move from task to task, checking items off one at a time. 

In January my family was in town for the installation service.  One afternoon I was talking with my dad, reflecting on the first few months of ministry at St. Mark’s.  I shared with him the many conversations, visitations, projects, and meetings that have taken place already.  As I shared my experiences I began to realize that the most meaningful, spiritual, and faithful ministry moments have not been on my to-do list.  They happen during the in-between moments of my various tasks.  They happen outside of my self-assessed priorities.  No matter how organized I try to be, and despite my efforts to plan and anticipate, the most meaningful moments of ministry happen in the unexpected, unprompted, and unplanned moments of my day.

Certainly it is no surprise to me that God seems most active and most present when I least expect or anticipate it.  After all we have a rich Biblical history of God being present in the most unexpected times and places.  Maybe I need to start adding blank lines to my to-do lists as intentional reminders to be open to God’s unique timing. 

If we’re not careful and attentive then our church calendar and lectionary cycle can lure us into a rut and routine of “checklist” Sundays.  Reformation—Check. All Saints—Check.  Advent—Check.  Christmas Eve—Check.  Ash Wednesday—Check.  Easter—Check.  Too often our tendency is to countdown from one major Christian holiday to the next—from one festival Sunday to the next.  And although there is much to be gained spiritually from these major Sundays, God is at work during the in-between time too.  For instance, each Sunday of Epiphany (between Christmas and Lent) is filled with a new revelation of Jesus in the world.  Each week is an opportunity to reflect on the manifestation of Jesus in our lives in a new way.  During Lent we not only countdown to Easter, but we spend several weeks intentionally wrestling with our sins, our mortality, and our need for a savior. 

This year I invite you to (re)invest in the in-between moments.  I intend to start with Lent.  Between the tasks of Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday, I invite you to be intentionally present and open to God’s work during the in-between time.  Be alert and receptive to the Spirit’s work in the unexpected, unprompted, and unplanned moments.  I invite you to make the in-between time a priority this Lenten season.

Lent 2018 – Worship Opportunities

Feb. 13—Shrove Tuesday Breakfast

Feb. 14—Ash Wednesday Service (12 and 7pm)

Feb. 21, 28; Mar. 7, 14, 21—Midweek dinner (5:00-6:15pm) and worship (6:30pm)

Mar. 29—Maundy Thursday (7:00pm)

Mar. 30—Good Friday (7:00pm)

Mar. 31—Easter Vigil (7:00pm)

April 1—Easter Sunday (9:30am)

Stir up your power, Lord Christ, and come.

“Stir up your power, Lord Christ, and come.”  This prayer is our Advent refrain each week as we invoke the Holy Spirit to “stir up” within us through the prayer of the day.  These ”stir up” prayers in Advent have always been my favorite, and every year I discover a new reason to fall in love with them all over again.

In a literal sense, I love the image of the Holy Spirit stirring things up.  My mind is filled with images of the Spirit swirling, much like a desert windstorm or a tidal pool with the waves crashing together.  During the holidays I am even reminded of the Spirit’s “stirring” when I fold flour or eggs into a good batter, or marshmallows in a cup of hot chocolate.

One of my favorite “stir up” prayers is on the third Sunday of Advent. On December 17, we’ll pray, “Stir up the wills of your faithful people, Lord God, and open our ears to the words of your prophets, that, anointed by your Spirit, we may testify to your light…” The power of the Spirit stirring up God’s people is empowering and exciting.  However, it is also downright terrifying.

There is a stereotype that Lutherans don’t like change. We’re often comfortable with our traditions and having “always done it that way.”  Whether that generalization is true or not is the topic of another time, but perhaps the same generalization could be made within our own lives.  How complacent can we become in our relationship with God?  How settled can we become in our faith?  How content can we become in our practices, traditions, rituals, and beliefs?  Are we truly ready or willing to be stirred up?

Willingly and knowingly invoking the Spirit to stir us up is a scary invitation.  After all, the Spirit has strong track recorded of stirring things up pretty well.  Off the top of my head I can think of a large ark, thousands of Israelites crossing the Red Sea, a whale’s belly, a wise judge, and of course a young woman named Mary.  The Spirit is always stirring and filling, empowering and challenging. 

One of the many joys of the Advent season is the invitation to begin again. To begin a new liturgical year.  To enter a new calendar year with excitement, goals, hopes, dreams, and ambitions.  To begin the story of Jesus, from birth and life to death and resurrection.  To be stirred up.  Advent invites us to have the settled, dusty, and stagnant parts of our lives stirred up by the Holy Spirit.

This year I am reminded of God’s promise in the Spirit to keep stirring.  I often want to condition my Advent prayer with “only if you want to” or “if you think I need it.”   But the question isn’t if the Spirit will stir, but when and how.  This Advent I am reminded that our prayer is not request or invitation as much as it is a proclamation of faith. 

From the beginning, God stirred up creation.  God stirred up love when Jesus, Emmanuel and Messiah, walked among God’s people in humble service— turning the world upside down in the death and resurrection.  And by God’s grace, God continues to stir things up for us in the most beautiful, challenging, and faithful ways.  How is the Spirit working in your life this Advent?  In what areas of your faith life might you find the Spirit stirring?

Originally Posted in the December, 2017 Messenger for St. Mark's Lutheran Church, Jacksonville, Florida.

Change is an Invitation to Holy Ground

Fall has always been my favorite time of year.  For most of my life, the leaves have transformed from lush green to the colorful landscape of a Bob Ross classic.  The temperature has declined, as I am relieved from oppressive summer heat and humidity.  Winter closes in, making me anxious for the love-hate relationship of possible snow.  Fall also means the holidays, which is a perfect excuse for my family and friends to travel the extra mile to unite in love and food.  For me, the experience of fall has always been my normal.

I do not know what the seasons look or feel like in Jacksonville yet, but my gut says to brace myself for a change.  This fall, the leaves may not change, the family may not all gather together, the temperature may not drop, and I am sad to think it may not lead to snow.  But that doesn’t make love fall any less.

A dear professor always taught us that “change is an invitation to Holy Ground.”  Every adjustment in the midst of change, for better or worse, is an opportunity to walk, reflect, and ultimately grow.   God is with us in the midst of change, walking with us step-by-step on Holy Ground, inviting us to trust, grow, and transform.  When we walk on Holy Ground, we can’t help but grow—grow in relationship, grow in self, and grow in faith. 

When Moses died and the Israelites stood on the precipice of a long-anticipated destination, God commissioned Joshua.  Joshua became a change in both leadership and direction as the Israelites left the wilderness and crossed the Jordan River into their new change of address.  God commanded Joshua to “be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9).

This fall Sarah and I will welcome a change—a change of address, a change of family and friends, a change to a new job.  A change in our new “normal.”   As scary or exciting as it may be, we take great comfort in knowing that we do not experience this change alone.  St. Mark’s has undergone an extended journey of change the last few years.  Friends and family have come and gone.  Programs have thrived and died.  Hopes have been marked by fears, and uncertainty has caused self-reflection.

Sisters, brothers, siblings, just as dead leaves make way for fresh buds, and cooler temperatures ultimately give new life to old soil, change brings about growth and transformation.  From the crucifixion of Jesus came new life in the form of resurrection.  Death was overcome with life, and the life-giving promise of hope, grace, and love.   Like Joshua and Israelites crossing the Jordan, Mary and the disciples left the tomb that day on Holy Ground, transformed for the better.  Change is an invitation to walk with God and neighbor on Holy Ground, to learn more about ourselves, one another, and God’s call for us.  To experience a re-birth.  To be reformed.  We will always experience change, but as we change know that in the Spirit change yields growth.  And God-willing, we will always continue to grow.

So in the days, weeks, months, and years ahead, be strong and courageous.  Do not be frightened or dismayed.  For the Lord our God is with us wherever we go.

Sarah and I are blessed to call St. Mark's JAX our new family and our new home.

Originally Posted in the November, 2017 Messenger for St. Mark's Lutheran Church, Jacksonville, Florida.