a prophetic voice-

                          After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing                            the inexpressible  is MUSIC. A small plastic sign bearing these words has stood on a shelf  in my living room for a couple of decades. Indeed, the paint is beginning  to peel,  to chip away, showing the wear-and-tear of time. Yet it  continues  to have  pride of place because of the truth it expresses  about my life. For me, music is and has always been the source of inexpressible  joy... especially when I am singing. And today...this very afternoon... I was  filled to overflowing with the joy of choral singing, as our High  Point  Community Chorus presented our spring concert.  To call the  afternoon  glorious barely scratches the surface of what I  was feeling  as the music transported me to a place I cannot find words  to  describe. And so it has been since I was a small child, listening to  the music  of the  piano in my grandparents' home, hearing th

I enjoy having days which are active and full, days in which I feel I have accomplished something, done something worthwhile. But the older I get...though perhaps it is not truly age but wisdom- I can only hope... the more I enjoy days which unfold at a gentler pace...unhurried and unscheduled...giving me time to notice and enjoy and appreciate the world around and within me.   The last two days have been like that...and I have been savoring them, like the taste of honey on my tongue...listening to the songs of the birds,  watching the antics of the squirrels, hearing the sweet voices and laughter of the children passing by. My eyes have been delighted by the blossoming flowers in my yard and throughout the  neighbor- hood and my nose filled with the many and varied fragrances of spring, sneezes and all.  Writing notes and reading, listening to music on the HD radio and CD player, watching the ever-changing moon...these are the  activities which have filled my days

Yesterday, I preached about the road to Emmaus story from a different perspective- that of hospitality. And even that, I came at in a way which is a bit out of the ordinary. My 92-year-old pastor friend, who is a member of the congregation which I serve, told me afterward that I had preached prophetically, a great compliment to me, for that means I was dis comforting the comfortable, which I see as my "job", just as much as comforting those in distress. My love and gratitude to Pastor Nancy Kraft, my friend and sister in ministry, for her courage and for the loving presence of her congregation, Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, in our North Carolina Lutheran Synod. Today’s Gospel in Luke speaks about the extreme hospitality of Jesus… his willingness, his eagerness to FEED people, both physically and spiritually… without asking about their beliefs, their faith, their theology… simply welcoming, with arms open wide, and accepting, as he did with those two conf

Funny how it sneaks up on you, grief. You go along just fine for weeks, months at a time...sometimes even for years, and then, BAM! out of the blue it hits, knocking the wind right out of you... hitting you between the eyes...pummeling you relentlessly until you are against the ropes, begging for mercy. That's how it felt last evening. It began as I was listening to a young man on YouTube singing "Bring Him Home" from Les Mis,  a song which always stirs deep emotions. And then, a little later at bedtime, at the end of an emotional day in which I had presided at the memorial service for a young man of twenty- one who had been part of our congregation... as I turned out the light and lay down to sleep, I found myself weeping, sobbing in a way I had not done in a very long time...my body wracked with the spasms of weeping- for the family today, for my eldest son, dead now these twenty-one years... feeling once again that deep bereftness which comes from ha