Dear Rose Park,
I’m guessing, more often than not, when we think of prayer we think of public prayer during communal worship. We think of our prayer of confession or the Lord’s prayer. If we think of prayer from an individual standpoint, I imagine we think of prayers before meals or before bed. Yesterday, I read an interesting article from Faithward all about centering prayer.
Dear Rose Park,
There’s something beautiful about riding a bicycle. I can remember learning how to ride a two-wheel bike at Lakeview Park on the south side of town with the help of my two brothers. I can remember the liberating feeling that came with the skill knowing that I had the ability to go wherever I wanted (within in reason). I can remember the joy of riding around the neighborhood with childhood friends. At the same time, within the beauty of riding a bicycle there’s also an inherit danger.
Dear Rose Park,
This past Sunday we introduced a new sermon series entitled, “Around the Campfire” where we’re diving into the Parables of Jesus found in the Gospel of Matthew. We’re figuratively gathering around the campfire in order to hear these stories and be invited to see God and His Kingdom in a new and perhaps challenging way. So, it seems appropriate that as I am at Camp Geneva this week serving as the chaplain on the Pines campus, the guiding verse for Camp has to do with a prophet known for a prophecy about a burning fire of indignation.
Dear Rose Park,
8 For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— 9 not by works, so that no one can boast.
Ephesians 2: 8-9
A week or so ago, Hank Sybesma dropped off 400 golf balls in my office. Apparently, when Hank and Lynne winter down to Florida, Hank picks up golf balls on his morning walk. Hank doesn’t play golf, so he thought I’d like them. Whether Hank knows it or not, these 400 golf balls are a physical reminder of God’s grace for me.
Dear Rose Park,
I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately. Some of it has been mindless summer reading (two Jack Reacher novels), others have been a refresher in our creeds and confessions (e.g. the Heidelberg Catechism and the Belhar Confession), but a bulk of my reading has been related to my doctorate program. One book in particular stands out in my mind.
Dear Rose Park,
My final project for my doctorate of ministry is due December 1. In some ways, December seems like a long way off. In other ways, it’s right around the corner. The long and the short of my project is this: how can pastors reclaim what it means to be a shepherd? One way pastors can do this is by embracing the sabbath.
Dear Rose Park,
As many of you know, I was on the swim team at Hope College. I swam with our very own Aaron Welsch and we swam just a few years after our own Jake Taber (who is the current head coach). I spent hundreds of hours at the Dow Center pool over my college years and couldn’t even begin to count how many yards I swam. But this past week, I saw something occur at the Dow that I’ve never seen before.
Dear Rose Park,
Today is Sam’s and my nine-year anniversary. Nine isn’t one of those milestone numbers like ten, twenty, or thirty but what sticks out to me is the symbol for nine years of marriage. Some of you already might know this, but each year of marriage is symbolized by a different item, symbol, gift, or theme. There are some quite interesting symbols for certain years, but nine might be my favorite.
Dear Rose Park,
Last Thursday morning, after I dropped off Simon and Winnie to Calvary CAMP, I drove to Escape Ministries on 32nd Street to meet with their program director, AJ Westendorp. AJ and I have known each other since we were kids. We grew up together playing baseball at Maplewood Ball Diamonds. Prior to our meeting, I stood at the door and gave high-fives and fist-bumps to the 26 high school students who are participating in their job’s program; it was such a joy to spend those few minutes encouraging them as they headed out the door and prepared to begin their day.
Dear Rose Park,
During this past academic year, I drove Simon to school almost every day. Sometimes Simon and I would have waffles or a bowl of cereal at home and then drive to school. Other times we’d stop by Dutch Delight for a donut, head to church to eat and grab a quick cup of coffee, and then make our way to the school drop-off line. On those donut expeditions, we saw the faithfulness of one particular neighbor on full display.
