Balcony Person Delcares Vacation!

Summer’s here.  The tomatoes are on the vine and a few of them that survived the deer and the blight have been harvested!  Ever eaten a $200 (approximate cost of growing your own) tomato?  It tastes much like the ones for 99 cents per pound at the Farmer’s Market.

I’ve decided it’s time for vacation even though my vacation won’t officially start for another two weeks.  My mind vacated about the time the thermometer hit 97 a couple weeks ago.  My trips outside, even in the heat, have become more prolonged as I watch the sky and the formation of the clouds, listening for thunder and rain so I don’t have to mow the grass!

Even the work as chaplain at the hospital has slowed a bit it seems.  Who wants to go to the hospital for elective surgery (or any surgery for that matter) when the skies are blue and lake is beckoning?  I am still helping out at the hospice when needed, but even the pace there seems slower.

And I must confess that I am tempted to miss a couple Sundays at Church as June progresses.  I can’t wait to see my children and grandchildren and enjoy our annual beach trip. That’s something I’ve been anxiously awaiting since the snow was on the ground.

So I am announcing that the balcony person is officially on vacation! There won’t be any posts for a while.  I’ll be back, so all the faithful followers out there (both of you), please don’t be disappointed!  But when I return to this sometime in the later part of the summer, I may have to change the name because beginning July 5, I shall no longer be a balcony person for a while.  I’ve gone the way of so many “young” retired ministers and accepted an interim position as pastor in a town near Raleigh.

So stay tuned.  And let me know if I should change the name of this blog from balcony person to something else (Recycled Minister? Pulpit Person? Back Sliding Balcony Person?) As for now, let’s all enjoy a change of pace and call it summer vacation.

Are Kids Smarter Today?

Are kids smarter these days or am I just getting dumber?   Please don’t answer that question.   The answer is probably “yes.”  I must admit that I wondered where some of my brain cells had gone as I sat in the balcony at Church Sunday.  It was graduate Sunday and a number of FBC’s graduates shared in the worship with a meditation.   They proved to me that they can do sermons both better and shorter than I ever did them.   They also impressed me with such wisdom that I suspected that the President’s speech writers may have composed the meditations, and if not a professional speech writer, then certainly the Church’s ministers!  Then again, the speeches had to be authentic.  They were too filled with personal stories and chocked full of nuggets of each graduate’s personality to be anything but original. 

Anna recounted the importance of community during a medical crisis she experienced.  Justin spoke of being a shy introvert who would hardly talk to others, to  become the person who was able to stand at a pulpit and face five hundred listeners with ease and eloquence. Morgan spoke of how connecting with the past gives direction to our futures.  Ian reminded that Church provided him a balance and gave to him stability in the move to a new city and the many other transitions he has experienced over the years. And Luke spoke of the importance of relationship, service, and mission in his pilgrimage of faith.

All pointed to mentors in the community of faith and to relationships developed during times of crisis, transition, social engagement, and mission.

Kudos kids!  Or better said, “thank you, young men and women of FBC.”  You show us older folks who are losing our brain cells what we too often forget:  It is in relationship and community that our faith grows, and that we continue to learn and become the children of God. Even us old folks with diminishing wit can learn that. 

An Open Letter to the Deer

Dear Deer,

I’ve tried everything I know to keep you away from my tomato plants, so I am appealing to your sense of compassion by this letter in the hopes that you will PLEASE stop eating my tomatoes.  You see, I have spent many hours trying to cultivated these beautiful plants.  I began earlier than usual this year since the spring was warm.  The rains have finally fallen gently on my fields and it looks like a bumper year for tomatoes.   I purchased the best plants from the best nursery in town and have applied Miracle Grow according to the directions on the box.  The result has been many tomatoes that would have ripened early, had it not been for your midnight raid on my garden.

In order to keep you at a distance, dear deer, I have tried the highly lauded “Deer Away”, which contains herbal and non-toxic ingredients, the smell of which I find a little nauseating, but can endure if I know you will find it nauseating, too.  Unfortunately, you did not seem to mind it.  Nor did you mind the previous year’s experiment with moth balls.  A little girl from the neighborhood told me my yard smelled like “grandma’s” house.  While the moth balls did decrease the moths in my yard, they did not deter you.  One year, my wife heard that hair clippings helped, so she brought home a bag of clippings from her beauty salon.   You gingerly stepped over the clippings of red, blonde, brunette, and gray hair to find your way to my tomatoes.

I am almost ready to admit defeat and drive to the State Farmer’s Market to buy my tomatoes in the future. It would be cheaper than the two tomatoes you left me, which when I average in the cost of fertilizers, repellants, and irrigation plus the psychotherapy I will need to deal with my anger and loss, will be about two hundred dollars per tomato.

 As I said, I’ve tried everything, so if there is just one iota of compassion left in your heart, please read this and have pity on me and my remaining two tomatoes.

Exit Balcony. Hello Beach!

The Church balcony looked a little empty Sunday.  A number of folks, including yours truly, were worshipping at the beach.  The Pathfinders Sunday School Class took off this week-end for their annual Memorial week-end trip to Caswell Beach.  As newcomers to this group, Betsy and I were forewarned of the following:  “There will be no meetings, no programs, and no required anything!”  Indeed, the promise was fulfilled.  Even though Betsy and I were there for just two days, it was a retreat worth the time and travel. 

We enjoyed the good food, the times of fellowship with the other class members, and the most beautiful weather one could hope for.  We did not find our way to a worship service, but worship found us.  On Sunday morning, the gulls called us to worship, the waves spoke the message of eternity, the skies and clouds lifted our heads to hope.  As the sun approached noon and the temperatures soared, we retreated to the shade of the live oaks and were reminded of the words of the Psalmist, “…The Lord is your shade on your right hand.  The sun shall not smite you by day,  nor the moon by night.”

 In our walks around Caswell (N.C Baptist Assembly grounds), Betsy and I shared memories of decades past and times there with our children, friends, and even college friends “back when.” We remembered God’s goodness to us throughout our lives.

 I have to admit that I am tempted to miss Church every Sunday and go worship at some scenic outdoor spot , but realize that I need to listen to the community at worship together as much as sounds of nature I experienced this week-end.

We returned to Raleigh and the routine grateful for a time of rest, replenishment, and inspiration at Caswell.  I suppose you can say we experienced the true essence of “Sabbath”!  Sometimes, I suppose, one needs to leave the balcony and greet the beach.

Who's Your American Idol?

My town is alive with "Scotty" fever.  Tonight, we'll know if our new American Idol is Scotty or Lauren.  Next year, I may not remember who the Idol was, such is the nature of our fast paced culture and our short term memories.   Who of us remembers Taylor Hicks, or Kris Allen, or last year's Idol, Lee DeWyze? 

I wonder the same about our memory of current events.  Who among us remembers how close we came to financial catastrophe as a country in 2007-08 when banks and large corporations began to fail?  Can we look back on 9-11 and remember how vulnerable we were?  Do we remember how close we came to having the Capitol and White House destroyed and even greater loss of life?

And I wonder if we really remember the truest "idols," those who are willing "to lay down their lives for their friends," as did the fire and rescue squad members on 9-11.

This Friday, I will lead in a time of memorial at the hospital where I am working part-time as chaplain.  We will pause for a time of silence.  We may or may not have the outcome of American Idol on our minds.  But we will silently pause to remember all who have faithfully lived and loyally died for our well being.   We will pause to remember the real America idols, unknown and unnamed to most of us, who willingly gave up their lives for thier friends.  Then we will proceed to the picnics, beach trips, and family outtings, grateful again for the true American idols whose sacrificial gifts we enjoy today.

Why Can't Church Be Fun?

I had fun in the Church balcony today.   I sat in the center section just in front of the balcony organ pipes.  I sang just as loudly as I wanted because I knew my voice would not out sing those beautiful pipes.  And I had fun because I knew I could sing the wrong notes, even the wrong hymn if I wanted to, and nobody would know! 

I had fun, also, because the pastor did a monologue.  Dr. Christopher Chapman is one of the most creative preachers I’ve ever known.  This was the second time he has done a monologue this spring. This time he appeared as a modern day cynic.  Walking to the podium and speaking beside the pulpit rather than behind it, Dr. Chapman became the cynic of faith and religious practice that we all, at some time in our lives, have been.  “Now here is a pastor who knows that we sometimes doubt and have all kinds of faith questions,” I thought, “and he’s not afraid to deal with the real issues which confront us all, and in such a creative way!”

  I am continually amazed by the versatility and depth of Dr. Chapman’s sermons and monologues.  I find myself leaving Sunday after Sunday with the words from one of Chaucer’s Cantebury Tales characters, “…and still they gazed and still the wonder grew, that one small head could carry all he knew.”   When the word gets out about how this Church and its pastor are tackling some of the difficult issues of life and faith, and with such a sense of joy and wit, the balcony should soon be overflowing!

It feels good to leave Church knowing that the pastor, staff, and members are working together, in all their diversity and with all their differences, to learn and grow.   As Scott Peck put it, “God put us on this earth to learn and to grow.”  First Baptist Church of Raleigh seems to understand the learning, growing, and doubting processes involved in the life of faith.  And instead of forming circular firing squads to address differences in the congregation, they celebrate them with healthy discussion, laughter, and creative thinking.

Live Simply that Others May Simply Live!

It’s almost tomato season again. This year I have again  fought insects and deer to have a few tomatoes to harvest soon.   My tomato plants are, again this year, in my front yard.  It’s the only sunny spot in my yard and I am convinced that it is more important that I grow some food, no matter what the neighbor’s say about “Dr. Herman’s front yard, overgrown veggie patch.”

Why fill the yard with vegetables rather than petunias?  For one, I want to remember where my food comes from.  And I want all the kids on my street to see that food actually grows on plants and just doesn’t “appear” in the produce department.  I am hopeful that the kids on my street (unlike the young clerk at the supermarket where I shop) will someday know the difference between an avocado and a turnip.

I am defying my professional yard “fertilizers” and going to a natural lawn care service.  I am attempting to eat less meat because the way our meats are raised and processed tend to, well, turn my stomach.  I don’t like the fact that poultry cannot breathe or even walk where they are raised, or that beef is injected with any number of hormones and antibiotics, or pork is….well, you get the picture.

No, I’ not a rabid animal “rights” person, or a tree-hugging environmentalist, or a fanatic about every health fad that comes along.  But I am seriously trying to understand “Christian stewardship” as being about more than giving to the Church.  It’s about how we treat our earth, our animals, our humans, and our food and water sources.

I believe some resources of our earth are limited and others, while limited, are replenishable.  I believe there may just be enough food and resources for all of us if some of us don’t mess it up or use it up!   And I believe that good stewardship calls me to live simply that others may live.

This is a counter cultural idea and you may not agree.  But if you can’t get any tomatoes or basil, come by my house.  I don’t mind sharing.