The Power of Penance

King Nebuchadnezzar felt miserable when he should have been overjoyed. As the King of Babylon and head of an empire that dominated the known world he was certainly the richest and most powerful man in the world.

Yet, his sleep was troubled by dreams. Dreams that gnawed at his insides and invaded his waking hours. On top of the world yet during the darkest hours he saw brokenness and devastation.

"What do these dreams mean?" the King asked his trusted advisor Daniel. Daniel hesitated--because he loved the King and hated delivering bad news. "I wish this dream belonged to your enemy, not to you," he said.

"Tell me anyway," the King demanded. "Well," said Daniel, "you have not honored God for your accomplishments, therefore, all this will be taken away from you. Beg God for mercy and maybe this fate will pass."

The story jumps from Daniel's plea to a day in the future when Nebuchadnezzar was on top of his palace, surveying his magnicent city and empire. "What great works I have done," he said to himself with a satisfied smile. Clearly he had never begged God for mercy--and perhaps the dreams ceased to trouble him. In any event neither the dreams nor Daniel's pleas made a lasting impression.

At that moment, the King hears the voice of God who says, "Because you have not honored me, I am taking this all away from you."

The story then shifts to a first person narrative. Nebuchadnezzar speaks directly to the readers and tells of his ordeal--how at that moment he lost his mind and lived like a wild beast. However, after a year, he turned his face to heaven and as quickly as it was taken away, everything was returned to him: his sanity, his position and his wealth.

Apparently that singular act of looking to God was all the King needed to do to show the creator of the universe that he was truly humbled. At that moment he knew in his heart that the splendor of his life came as a result of God's favor, not simply because of the King's merit.

Sin is disobeying God either in the things we do, or the things we fail to do. In Nebuchadnezzar's case, his sin was one of omission, not one of commission. He had not committed any particularly evil act, on the contrary, Nebuchadnezzar's rule was reknowned for its wisdom, tolerance and mercy. No, the King's sin involved a failure to act. In his pride he refused to honor the true power behind his throne, the Lord God Jehovah. And, for failing to acknowledge God, the King was humbled.

Many of us consider ourselves "good" because we don't do a lot of "bad" things. We don't beat children. We don't post pictures of ourselves in our underwear on the internet. And we don't steal from the elderly (though wrong change we consider a "gift").

But how many acts of goodness do we do simply to honor God. Do we praise him for a beautiful day. When breaks seem to fall our way to we congratulate ourselves for our good fortune?

The lesson from the Scriptures is that humans are supposed to praise God not just when the mood strikes, or when we need something, but because from deep down in our hearts praises seem to well up, almost without conscious thought. Until we reach that place--where the love of God is something we feel without any special prompt or reason, we may find ourselves in Nebuchadnezzar's shoes. God's favor is not something we earn. It's not something we can manipulate. God's favor comes when our spirit finds union with the Creator. And sometimes achieving that union, if it comes at all, requires a long sojourn in the wilderness.

May we all find that place of union and harmony with God, without encountering too much pain and suffering first!

Ratted Out at the Club

OK, maybe it was kind of a stretch.

The Detroit Athletic Club has a special membership category for clergy. My good friend has wanted me to join for years. "It will be way cheaper for you," he always said. Until recently I hesitated because I'm not really a joiner--I have a hard time getting all enthused about "exclusive" groups. I want to be known as a person with talents, skills, family, achievements, and a loving generous heart, not the person defined by his affiliations and involvements.

But, lately I've been missing the social side of work I lost when I left American Laser Centers. For nearly eight years I enjoyed the comradery of working with a group of high-powered, kind of crazy, always interesting men. As a "team of one" in my consulting business, it's just not the same.

So, for me DAC membership became interesting as a place where I could make some new friendships and enjoy the company of professional, athletically inclined men. And, since they offered a special price for clergy--and, as you know, I am a clergyman, I thought, why not? I spent many long years earning my clergy credentials and if the DAC wants to honor that, I'll gladly oblige.

When I first contacted the club about clergy membership, I was told there was a waiting list (only 125 members at a time can be in this category), but that I should put my membership application in anyway. "To be ready when a space opens," the cheerful club represenative told me.

So I submitted my membership application. My friend helped me gather required recommendations from exisitng members, and I waited.

In March, out of the blue, the club called and told me that a clergy spot had opened and they wondered whether I was still interesed in membership. I said, "sure" and the representative quickly scheduled me to meet with the club's Board of Directors. All prospective members must meet with Board representatives who then vote on all new club members.

Around noon on Wednesday the next week, I and several other potential club members visited with Board members. I even sat privately with a member who officially interviewed me. Later that day I was telephoned by the club representative who I had been talking to about membership all along. "Rev. Piecuch," she said, "I have wonderful news." "Really?" I replied." "Yes, the Board has approved your membership application." "Great," I responded. And my first thought was, "I wonder how much this is going to cost me?"

In the weeks since I was voted in, I have enjoyed using the club's facilities and eating in their wonderful dining rooms. I've even met a few other members. The decision to join has seemed so right . . . up until Friday.

That afternoon I was working at the Novi Expo Center representing my PhotoTheric business (that's another story), when my cell phone started ringing. Not recognizing the number I answered, "Kevin Piecuch."

"This is Mary from the DAC." Oh yes, the friendly club representative who weeks earlier sounded overjoyed in welcoming me first as a newly elected member. The voice sounded less chipper, but I was in a noisy place.

"Umm, we have a problem with your membership. There's been a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "It's come to our attention that you have a consulting business."

"Yes," I said, a little incredulous.

"Well clergy members of the club must spend all their time doing clergy work. Otherwise they do not qualify for that membership category," she explained, sounding more like my grade school principal than the person who encouraged me to submit my application as quickly as possible.

"I've been upfront with everyone about my work," I said. "I never hid from anyone that I was not serving a congregation at the moment."

"Well perhaps your sponsor didn't know that you did not fit the clergy membership criteria. And we're not suggesting that you tried to hide something. It's just that there are many other club members in your situation."

"There are?" I said even more incredulous.

"Oh yes, many of our members are deacons and active in their churches."

"But I'm a seminary trained ordained clergyman. A deacon is not the same thing."

"Well," she said, "there are attorneys in the club who are also ordained, and they are resident members."

"Really?" I responded, wondering who they were.

"Yes. So, what do you want to do now?"

"What do I want to do?" I asked. "What are my options?"

"Well to move to Resident Member status you'll have to make an additional entrance payment and your monthly dues will increase."

"Let me talk to my wife," I said. "I'll get back to you."

"Yes," she said rather clipped. "I'll send you the portion of the our Bylaws that talks about membership categories. It's all very clear in the Bylaws."

Later I received an email from Mary. Whereas all previous communications from her had been sent to "Rev. Piecuch," now in the greeting she wrote, "Dear Mr. Piecuch." I guess I'm no longer clergy in her mind.

And there it was in black and white. In Section 7 of Article 1 of the DAC Bylaws, it says, "An unretired commissioned officer in full time active duty in the military service of the United States or a member of the clergy serving full time and exclusively as such . . . may be elected to membership in the manner prescribed." The article continues, "Such membership is to terminate upon the removal of said member from the aforesaid prescribed area, or whenever the Board is advised that the member is no longer serving full time and exclusively as a military or clergy person."

Then it hit me: somebody "advised the Board" that I was not working full time as clergy. How the Board didn't know that before I was elected as a member is mysterious to me. Every Board member I met the day I was elected I told that I was also an attorney who works with various clients. They didn't bat an eye--and in fact elected me as a clergy member. But, apparently somebody else in the club felt differently.

Perhaps one of those deacons saw my name on the new member list, or that mysterious attorney who also went to seminary, and ratted me out. Or, maybe some other member aware of my employment status, thought I was trying to "get one over" on the club and called the membership office.

I am guilty of not reading the Bylaws before joining the DAC. However, I am innocent of fraud. As a fully licensed minister of the Word and Sacrament, I believed (as did many others) that I qualified to join the club as a clergy member. Now, I'm told, I have to pay up or walk away.

While I typically don't like to join clubs, I like even less being thrown out of an establishment before I'm ready to leave. I was not ready to leave American Laser Centers the day I was told to pack up my office. I'm not ready to leave the DAC, not just yet.

However, as I think about this little snafu, I feel perplexed. I try to keep a low profile in life and I believe I'm well liked by those who know me. Every time I find out differently I get surprised. Somebody was bothered enough about my membership that he/she called the DAC office to "tell on me." Who would do that, especially since I was so open about my employment? And, really, who rats out a clergy man, even one like me who earns income outside the church?

The Right Gift

Who loves us more: the person who gives us what we ask for, or the person who gives us what we need? The former sounds like a friend--the later sounds like a parent.

"Like" relationships are purely discretionary. Those who amuse us, encourage us, inspire us, are people we choose to be around. However, if those same people become boring, offend us, or no longer raise our spirits, we may choose to end our relationship. Someone I know calls these relationships "flavors of the month." This happens to me all the time. I meet someone new, find some common ground, enjoy their company, and I believe I've just made a fantastic friend.

However, after a few meetings, I discover the person possesses certain annoying habits, may not be as smart as I thought, and becomes less interesting to me every day. And, since I'm not willing to make a special effort to continue our relationship, the person just drifts out of my life. I sometimes even forget their names.

Family members and true friendships, however, are built on more substantial ground. Years of interaction create a rich context for these relationships, a context that includes good times and bad, happy and sad. One bad day shouldn't doom a friendship. One day when we're "off our game" won't get us disowned from family. If our friendships and family relationships are healthy, they are about more than passing amusements. They involve building trust, mutual respect and growth. Our friends and close family give us what we need to be harmonious human beings. Watch an episode of Family Guy if you need a laugh. However, call a family member or friend if we need help with our lives.

Which leads me to the Book of Acts. (OK, my transition is a little abrupt today). In Chapter 3, Peter and John are on their way to pray in the temple. They run into a lame man who asks them for money. The apostles say they don't have money, but can give him something far better. Then, stretching out their hands, they take hold of the man, pull him up and all of a sudden, the man's ankles strenghten and he can walk. In fact Scripture said the man began "walking and leaping and praising God." Talk about lifting a man out of poverty. The apostles knew what the man really needed.

In ancient times the ability to do manual labor might be the only thing standing between life and starvation. Accordingly, physical disability was devastating. Especially as the person grew older and could not depend on the care of parents, life became precarious for the blind, the dumb, and the lame. While a few coins could ward off starvation for a day, what that man really needed was a miracle: strong legs and the ability to walk.

So, in response to the lame man's request, the apostles gave a far better gift.

I wonder, are we giving the right gifts to the people around us? When our children ask for XBox games, do we cave in, assuring ourselves that good parents take care of their children. Or, do we seek to give our children the tools they need to lead a happy and successful life--gifts such as faith, love and discipline--whether or not our children know to ask for them.

And, what are we asking of God? Do we ask for wealth, saying that freed of money worries we can pray more effectively or have additional resources to share with the needy. Do we ask for popularity, saying the more people who like us, the larger circle of influence we'll have to encourage godly behavior. Do we ask God for material goods so that we'll be better respected in the community? These thoughts were captured long ago by Janis Joplin who sang in a voice dripping with irony, "O Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz."

I think I understand this lesson. Jesus promised us, "Ask and it shall be given to you." What Jesus didn't do, however, is define "it". "It" may not be what we asked for--it might just be what we need. So go ahead and ask God for whatever you want. Ask for that flat screen TV. Ask for a better job. Just be sure you understand why you're asking for that particular gift. Perhaps there's a deeper need that God is looking to fill. And, be prepared. What God gives us in response to our asking might just blow our minds . . . and cause us to "walk, leap and praise."

Now God, about that new job . . . .

Jonah Changed His Mind

Talk about feeling regrets at just the right moment, consider the biblical character Jonah.

You know the story. God asked Jonah to do a task he did not want to do--which was to share a word of warning to the people of Nineveh, the hated enemies of Israel. Jonah refused the task and decided he could outrun God.

Bad idea. Instead of outrunning the Lord, Jonah found himself in the middle of a raging storm, which was about to engulf his ship and drown all his fellow passengers. Jonah, knowing the storm was God's way of saying, "You can't run from me" told the sailors to throw him overboard and their lives would be saved. At first they refused, but when Jonah explained he had defied Almighty God, they agreed and heaved him into the raging seas.

The storm stopped and Jonah was swallowed immediately by an enormous fish.

As the fish was descending into the depths of the ocean, Jonah said he felt his life ebbing. He said he also remembered how much he loved God and that how thankful he was that God gave him an opportunity for service.

Isn't that just like us? We have the opportunity to do right when it is convenient, when saying "yes" means simply doing what stands before us. But no, how often do we act like Jonah and go to great lengths to refuse service. How often to we spurn performing acts of kindness and compassion when the need before us is clear. Why? Simply because we would rather do wrong than obey. God tells us to give food to the hungry man and we choose to go a different route. God tells us to help our wife and we stay longer at work. God tells us to pick up the telephone and call our parents, but we keep watching the game.

Then later, when we're far away, we remember the hungry person, our family members, and our responsibility to show love not just receive love, and we change our minds. But, perhaps the moment is lost.

In Jonah's case, God spared his life and he was given a second opportunity to take the message to Ninevah.

How many second chances do we have to do right? Wouldn't it be simpler just to obey at the outset, than to think we can outrun God. What was Jonah thinking, really? What am I thinking, really?

St. Paul Sings!

Biblical scholars agree that the letters of St. Paul include some very early Christian hymns. It's the best way to explain why his writings sometimes include bursts of poetry, right at the end of some complicated point of doctrine. It's as if that hard boiled saint, at the end of writing something really profound, just felt the need to belt out a song.

I know how the man felt because I too am often moved to sing at random times of the day. I have no idea how others react to this--and I'm not sure how many folks outside my family circle have actually witnessed my song and dance act. But, it's a frequent event. My life is a musical comedy--songs just appear for sometimes no apparent reason.

In today's lectionary reading from Paul's letter the Romans, our saint explained in passionate detail that despite their rejection of Jesus, God has not rejected his people Israel. After all, says Paul, "the gifts and calling of God are irrevocable." Being the beneficiary of God's gifts is like buying items at a going out of business sale--you can never take them back. Once bought, the sale is final.

Paul is so moved by God's remarkable goodness--giving gifts to people who don't deserve them, and then never wanting them back--he finds himself bursting into song. Read Romans 11:33-36. "Oh the depths of the riches, the wisdom and knowledge of God. How unsearchable are his judgments and inscrutable his ways." I actually have a tune for that hymn burned into my memory from days long ago at the Mulford Evangelical Free Church in Muscatine, Iowa. This passage was set to music and sung by our church choir on numerous occassions. The tune sounded like a football fight song and the choir sang it with zest.

God loves humanity completely and without regard to our behavior. Our failures, rejections, infatuations with other gods notwithstanding, God loves us, accepts us, and calls in into fellowship. This love is far different than the love we share. While our love is fickle and often depends on the object of our love acting a certain way, God's love is without condition. While our love is narrow in focus, rarely extending beyond those closest to us, God's love crosses all boundaries. Finally, while our love sometimes fades with time, God's love grows stronger by the day.

When faced with such boundless, perfect love, it's enough to make a person burst into song . . . just like St. Paul.

On My Own and All Alone

Here we go again. Two weeks in a row! It's Friday in Lent and time to reflect on today's Scripture readings that appear in the daily lectionary.

The Psalm selected for today appears often during the Lenten season: Psalm 22. Unlike the words of comfort from the 23rd Psalm, the 22nd Psalm is all about pain and anguish. Perhaps its most famous words are, "I am a worm, not a man." Hmm, as much as I feel that way sometimes (most recently the day after my hernia surgery), I was not feeling that pain today.

Instead I felt most attracted to Paul's words contained in the eighth chapter of Romans. Here Paul writes exuberantly about the Christian's connection to Jesus--saying that nothing, I mean NOTHING, could ever separate us from God's love given through Jesus.

His words are wonderfully optimistic and absolultely reassure us that despite any difficult circumstances we may face, Jesus walks with us. Thank God we're not alone.

Yet I sometimes wonder, simply the fact that Jesus is with us does not mean we are experiencing his presence. I can think of many comforts and safety nets available to us that we often overlook or ignore. When the pilot light on my furnace went out last week--the gas company was available to help me, but I went ahead and tried to restart the machine, without luck. When the repairman came, he told me the pilot line was broken and that I was lucky I didn't "burn my face off." Lucky? Hmm, blessed more like it. Why didn't I call the expert first?

I also wonder why my son, who knows his father is a great writer (in my own mind, maybe?), never asks me to read his school papers and essays. I bet I could help him improve his grades, yet he chooses to forego my help. It's not a bad thing to want to do things on your own, it's just sometimes you miss a blessing.

One of the reasons I avoid getting help is that I prefer to do things my way. If you ask for help, then you're kind of obligated to accept assistance. It seems a little rude to solicit advice then immediately reject it. Why ask if you do not intend on listening.

Which is why I think my son doesn't ask me to read his papers--kind of hard to say, "No Dad, I like it better my way."

Which takes me back to nothing separating us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. I can think of several blocks to my relationship with God that did not appear on Paul's list: pride, stubbornness and willfullness. If God has gifted me, then why do I need help from the almighty to land a deal--shouldn't my talents be obvious without some divine intervention? Why should I ask Jesus to be with me in that business meeting?

Or, after committing myself to fruitless efforts, should I change course simply because God's gentle prodding urged me to try a different approach. I mean seriously God, shouldn't I keep at it my way a little while longer? Do you really expect me to accept the humiliation that I was on the wrong road?

Or, why ask for God's help when you know God's will is contrary to my own. If I want something--isn't it enough that I want it? Why would God allow me to want something that isn't good for me? Sure God's laws are clearly written in scripture, but doesn't he give his children a little leeway? If you know the answer is going to be "no" and you really want something, why ask permission?

As hard as it is to accept, our God can simply demand things from us because he is God. And Jesus will advise us to do right even when we want to do wrong. Loving God requires respect for his will--and accepting that his will is perfect, despite what our will tells us. But, submission is hard, and getting one's way is addicting. It also separates us from the one who loves us most.

Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus? Really? Perhaps nothing from God's end. . . . I'm just saying.

Where Am I Going? And How Do I Get There?

Yes life is a journey--and wouldn't we all like to own the map that tells us exactly where that journey ends--and all the interesting twists and turns along the way.

I seriously dislike a series of television commercials running right now produced by Fidelity--you know them, the financial management company. The commercials feature energetic looking mature couples walking down a green path that the Fidelity Company is laying out step-by-step. "Don't worry seniors," the message suggests. "If you invest with Fidelity, we'll take you to the promised land." I wish finding the promised land was that easy.

Sad truth is that many persons who once felt secure about their futures aren't so sure now. Sure the stock market looks better today--but for millions of Americans who invested a significant portion of their wealth in their homes our "nest eggs" seem rather puny. Worse, millions of workers in their 40s, 50s and 60s, who expected to work a certain number of years and earn a certain level of income before retirement, find themselves unemployed and quickly burning through resources. As unemployment benefits run out, COBRA premiums become unaffordable, and houses in nice neighborhoods with upside down mortgages are abandoned, many Americans worry that God has somehow forsaken them.

Especially in Michigan and other economically ravaged regions people understand David perfectly when he mourns in Psalm 102, "He has broken my strength in midcourse." And, "Do not take me away at the midpoint of my life." How terrifying it is to be on a journey and find yourself stuck in the desert, out of gas, without reception on your cell phone, and far from your final destination. What do you do?

People of faith rely on hope. While we may be in the dark at the moment, the God we worship knows the total picture. The God who created the world, who has showered us with blessings of life and companionship, will not leave us in the lurch, no matter how difficult our present circumstances.

Do these words comfort you? Maybe not if you face immediate needs and painful choices. However, know that beyond the present discomfort, God has promised to deliver us to a place of rest--both in this world and in the world to come.

So, if you feel your life is stalled in a wasteland, and the darkness of night deepens around you, fear not. Your deliverer draws near. Maybe not in an Escalade, or a Jag, but God is bringing you relief . . . soon! After all, if your goal is to get to the promised land, does it really matter whether you get there in a Maybach or riding on the Megabus? I just want to get there, and have a spot prepared for me. God never promised that the road to the promised land would be easy or comfortable, just that he would take us there.

The folks at Fidelity proclaim that they can deliver you to a promised land of financial ease, and maybe they can bring some comfort to their clients. However, for my money, I'm still banking with the God of Abraham. See you at the pool!