This coming week LPC members and friends of the congregation will be receiving another Stewardship mailing from the church. In this final letter for the season we will be reminded of the grace of giving, the call to generosity, and the amazing things God continues to do in and through our life together.  Also, we will be given a pledge card to prayerfully complete and bring to worship for Pledge Dedication Sunday on November 9.  I completely and joyfully affirm all that the letter says, and Becky and I will join so many others in bringing our completed card forward on November 9.  In fact, learning to tithe and embracing the discipline of thanksgiving has been a wonderful gift to Becky and me in each of our own spiritual lives and in the life of our marriage.   Continue reading →

Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh. Ecclesiastes 12:12

It has been nearly 3,000 years since the preacher of Ecclesiastes first made his assessment of book making and much study.  Many books are still made whether they by ink on paper or pixel on screen.  Some would say, though, that the study of them brings not so much weariness in our time mostly because we don’t study them all that much.  We are a nation of text messages, tweets, and You Tube video clips, and often times convinced that our own experiences and personal conclusions are sufficient to settle the important questions of life and of our lives.

The definition of theology as “faith seeking understanding” is traditionally ascribed to Saint Anselm of Canterbury, an Eleventh Century monk and philosopher.  One of Anselm’s many gifts to the millennia of Christians who have come after him is his reasoned understanding of the atonement, Christ’s redeeming work on the cross. Continue reading →

I grew up on the other side of the generation gap.  It was best not to trust anyone over thirty. The times they were a changin. Mothers and fathers throughout the land were advised not to criticize what they did not understand, and to realize that their sons and their daughters were beyond their command.

The idealism, hopes and dashed dreams of the Baby Boom Generation have been chronicled by a thousand analysts, and there are ten thousand opinions as to what they finally mean. Now on the way far side of thirty, that idealism and those hopes and dashed dreams seem to me sometimes quaint, at other times hugely consequential, and at still other times mostly sad.  There’s not much left of them, at least not in their original form. Continue reading →

I love the church. I love Langhorne Presbyterian Church and I love the holy catholic church. And probably more than most people I know what the church is like.  I have seen, heard, or experienced the racism, sexism, homophobia, elitism, and judgmentalism of the church.   I have seen, heard, or experienced the gossip mongers, character assassins, anxiety provokers, and peace disrupters who fill the church. I have seen, heard, and experienced a thousand ways that the church betrays her Lord.  I have seen, heard, and experienced the guilty church and I am part of her and share her guilt.

Still, I love the church. Continue reading →

I’m the kind of grandfather who likes to spend time on the floor playing with my grandkids. In fact, I love playing on the floor with my grandkids.  So when we were in Michigan last month spending time with Katharine and Ryan, our daughter and son-in-law, getting to know Ada, our newest grandchild, I spent a lot of time on the floor with Lena, Ada’s two and a half year old sister.

We emptied Lena’s tub of wooden blocks and cars and a few crib toy discards onto the floor and played for hours, mostly about mommy and daddy blocks who were welcoming tiny baby blocks into their family. There was this discarded crib toy, a hanging toy with an elastic cord, something like the picture at the head of this post.  Somehow Lena figured out how to shoot the toy across the room using the elastic hanger like a rubber band.  And, yes, I think I may have helped her perfect her technique. Continue reading →