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                                                            Thoughts from Dur - October 21, 2016


For many years I sat next to my granddad every Sunday morning in Worship.  We held hands and kind of snuggled together.  I remember staring at the back of his hand and thinking of all the years those hands had seen.  They were worn from years on the farm, in the mill, and at work in construction.  They were worn by the sands of time and by the searing sun to which they had been too long exposed.  The hands were tough and yet as he held my hand they were also gentle.

Today I look at the back of my hand and you know what I see. It looks a lot like my granddads.  Not worn by the same things as his, but worn just the same.  I even believe my hands have similar markings as his.

My granddad is long gone, but the memory of those times on Sunday morning in worship together, my hand in his, are like yesterday.

As we make our way through the fall months together may we walk hand in hand together as we seek to become the people God desires us to be and may we find our common bond in the love that God poured into the world in God’s Son.  May the Holy Spirit empower us to be the Church we are called to be in our life together.

I’ll be praying for you and your faith communities as you gather for worship this weekend.

Here is a story I found some time ago.  It’s what started me thinking about my granddad’s hands today.


                                                            I love being your superintendent,



Granddad, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. When I sat down beside him he didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if he was OK. Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time, I asked him if he was OK.

 He raised his head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," he said in a clear strong voice. "I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandpa, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to him.

"Have you ever looked at your hands?" he asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?"

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point he was making. Grandpa smiled and related this story:

 "Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.

They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.

They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back.

 As a child my Mother taught me to fold them in prayer.

They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots.

They held my rifle and wiped my tears when I went off to war.

They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent.

They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son.

Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special.

They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse and walked my daughter down the aisle.

Yet, they were strong and sure when I dug my buddy out of a foxhole and lifted a plow off of my best friend's foot.

They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.

They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body.

They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw.

 And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of my life.

But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home.

And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ.”

I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my Grandpa's hands and led him home.

When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and wife I think of Granddad. I know he has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.



Thoughts from Dur - September 19, 2016

          Have you ever caught something contagious?  I don’t mean strep throat or the flu!  Rather, have you ever encountered a moment that made a positive life change in YOUR life?

          It happened in the first century as Jesus went from town to town sharing a message of hope, peace and joy that the people had never before experienced.  It also happened when Jesus walked the shore and found a few men tending nets.  He simply said, “FOLLOW ME.”  Shockingly they did and the rest is history.  It happened when Jesus came to the tax collector Matthew and asked him along for the journey.  The “bug” caught, first a few and then the multitudes, and the name of Jesus became a household word in that region. 

          The contagious nature of God’s love in Jesus has been passed from generation to generation.  What began with 12 disciples and a few friends has exploded into the Christian Church today!  What a contagious nature God’s love exhibits.  I can almost imagine what it must have been  like to have Jesus come close as he did to the women at the well.  Jesus knew her. He knew her sin and reputation and yet he calls her to sin no more. While others treated her like dirt,  Jesus wrapped the love of God around her and she was transformed!  She is so overwhelmed by Jesus’ love that she immediately shares it with her town.  That’s contagious  love.  That is love worth spreading!

          I don’t know about you but that’s how God’s love found me.  Just a kid, couldn’t do much right, could find trouble no matter where it was hiding.  Yet one day I heard about Jesus’ love  and knew that was the kind of life I wanted to live.  That contagious “bug” had me.  Not perfect mind you,  just forgiven. 

          I wonder, have you caught it?  Do you know the awesome love of God that is yours in Jesus Christ?  It’s contagious!  It’s spreading!  One by one people are coming to know Jesus as their Savior.  If you’ve caught it, have you shared it?  It’s not a bug to own, rather it is something wonderful, powerful and transforming that is meant to share.  Catch it today, then pass it around to your family and friends.  You’ll be glad you did!

          Today (Saturday) I had the privilege to celebrated Day on Campus at the Madison Youth Camp.  The extravagant generosity of so many made the day possible.  I met a woman whose grandfather hued the logs used to build the home that is now used as and administrative office.  She seemed with joy when she shared how her parents were smiling down from heaven witnessing the tremendous life giving work going on on a piece of property they raised their own kids on over the years.  Hearing her joy filled story was awe inspiring. The infectious love of the day filled many others with that same joy!  

          Beginning my first season of Charge Conferences I am so looking forward to hearing the stories of each faith community in the North Best District.  Though we do things “a little different” I do trust you will experience the opportunity to connect and hear from one another inspiring and motivating as we each return home t our places of worship and service. 

I love serving as the superintendent of the North Best District.



Thoughts From Dur - September 11, 2016                     

The pain and horror of September 11, 2001 are never very far from my thoughts and the days leading up to remembrance of that tragic day fill me with, as I am certain you, great emotion.  

I am mindful of sitting with a retired New York City Fire Battalion Chief and his spouse.  He had recruited an entire fire house that was killed after they rushed to the scene to save lives. I remember sitting with the cousin of , Vernon Cherry , a firefighter who died that day.  It was his cousin, Faye, who had started him on that venture.  Faye’s son, off duty that morning, tried his best to join his brothers in response but could not get to the buildings before they collapsed. I know that the hearts of Bob, Jean, and Fred, as well as thousands who are strangers to me will be overwhelmed with their remembrances on September 11.  Let us all take a moment to pray for those whose lives were forever changed in an instant on that day many ago.

I am mindful of the death of many who were running to the towers, into the pentagon and towards the cabin of an airliner as they each sacrificed their own lives in an attempt to save others.

I am mindful of the families from many nations and many religions who on that day lost mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters, grandparents, family and friends. 

I am mindful that we have really never been the same since that tragic day of horror, suffering and grief.  

I am mindful that our hearts and souls continue to experience pain, grief and fear over this senseless act of hate and violence.

I am mindful that we shall never forget the horror of September 11, 2001, as we shall never forget the painful memory of Oklahoma City on April 16, 1995 or that day of infamy, December 7, 1941. My personal visit to each of these sacred sites was filled with awe and I continue to feel those emotions today. 

I am mindful that the Gospel we proclaim and live is filled with the words of joy, love, hope, peace and redemption in the face of adversity, hate, violence, and even death. 

I am mindful of the challenging words of Jesus.  Jesus challenges us with words like “Love those who hate you,” “Turn the other check,” “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God,” and "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."  These words helped calm a rage that that September 11 morning stirred inside of so many.

Let us not rest in the words of Jesus but live them loudly in our lives and in our world that would so quickly invite us to live otherwise.  On this September 11, let us remember the lives of those thousands who were killed that day and their loves ones whose lives have never been the same. Let us live for the love, peace, joy, hope and redemption that are the Incarnation.   

I love serving as superintendent of the North Best district.



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