Pastor’s Point: Final Four


This Sunday in our worship community, we will conclude the series on our core values, called Sweet Sixteen. We have intentionally grouped the last four together. Call it “killing four birds with one boulder.” The final four are: stimulate creativity, remain culturally relevant, reproduce the next generation of artistic leaders, and always be loving. One common theme in the first three of these is the idea of thinking ahead. Living things are growing things, and nothing says a church is alive better than newness of life, whether it is new converts, a renewed spirit in worship, new ideas for communicating old truths, even just new faces. The first chapter of the book of Genesis says that God created the heavens and the earth. Later in the same chapter, it says that God made us in His image. Part of being image-bearers of the One who made us is to exhibit creativity ourselves. I once heard it said that people often choose to live in either one of two places: their memories or their imagination. The issue is not whether or not we retain our memory, but rather, do we camp out there, pitch our tent there, so to speak. Sadly, the local churches that exist mainly to perpetuate their own tradition have made that choice.

The problem with this approach can be illustrated by driving a car. As you sit in the driver’s seat and survey all the potential choices before you, there is always that little rear-view mirror which could occupy your time and attention. But it was actually designed to provide you a reference point and a reminder of what is behind you. Organizations which become preoccupied with maintaining their heritage, reputation, or even their buildings (call it the edifice complex), have little time to dream, imagine, or create. The result is oftentimes a loss of credibility and relevancy within the larger culture or community they attempt to engage.

Think about the world of recorded music in our culture. Forty years ago you had only a few AM stations, a handful of accepted musical styles, and products to reproduce music like LPs and 45s (as they were called). When I was growing up, I could not have imagined the number of options which might be available to me even within my own lifetime. What changed? The culture, technology, people’s free time, you name it. And with that evolution, the language of the arts moved to keep up.

So it is with the worship community of any local church if it is to remain sensitive to and reflective of the culture it endeavors to reach. The message needn’t change but the medium must. Bible translators know this. Church architects certainly know this. Those involved in the arts and technology definitely should realize this. Not staying current with these trends is like traveling to a foreign country and assuming all American customs and language are completely transferable. If the message is to be understood, its presentation must relate to its surroundings.

What can help us keep up with this “warp-speed” revolution? I believe it requires our raising up the next generation of leaders in this area. To do this, we must first be willing to listen to our youth and young adults. It will involve engaging them in open-minded dialogue about the way their culture learns and experiences things. And it must include providing them opportunities to actually teach and lead us in these areas. It can be yet another testimony to the work of the Holy Spirit in a church when there is a discernible, intentional passing of the baton to the next generation in full view. No one promises it won’t be messy at times, or never need tweaking or correction. But it is those very times when the love of God, like fine cream, rises to the top and displays itself. And that is exactly where we land…on our final, but perhaps highest, value—always be loving.

Church cultures whose unity sounds more like unison don’t require a lot of love. In fact, in those kinds of environments, when someone starts singing slightly out of tune, or even a different tune, members simply withdraw or, worse, begin the dismantling process of the fellowship. The agape love of the first church was tested early on. It had to intentionally set aside the need for ethnic (cultural) “purity.” They did, after all, start out “all Jewish—all the time,” remember? (Acts 10). Agape love also meant stepping out in faith, being willing to be lovingly corrected by their spiritual leaders, and, at times, even risking death. But their true mark on the world, the distinctive which ultimately turned that world upside down, was not their great faith, not their gifts, or creativity, not even their open-mindedness. Rather, it was how they loved each other.

Imagine, if you will, two piles of bricks standing side by side, one with mortar and the other without. Now think of the love of God as the mortar connecting the one stack of stones which He is using to build a beautiful temple of worship. When viewed side by side, the two stacks neatly piled on top of each other really don’t look all that different. But let the first quake of adversity or division hit, and one thing becomes clear. Without that love, without the connective adhesive of the Holy Spirit in our lives, we will not stand. Our mission is lost. And God moves on.

As we conclude this journey through our ministry’s core values, let me just take a moment to thank you personally for your sacrifice, your faith, your hard work, but mostly for the primary evidence of God’s work in you…His love. To quote an anthem we sang a few years back: “Love with His hands, see with His eyes. Bind it around you, let it never leave you, and they will know us by our love!”

                                                                                                                           tad

Pastor’s Point: Thou Shalt Not Clone

If you’re like me, you love sweets. Try digesting this from John 8:36: “If the Son sets you free, you are truly free.” Pretty sweet, huh? Becoming a child of God releases you and me to finally pursue our true identity and to shed the need to be conformed to others around us. This goes for life both inside and outside the Church. We all know how strong the world’s collective voices can be in defining success and value for us. And even in the local church, we can often fall victim to a cloning process which attempts to make all Christians think, talk and act alike.

For starters, consider our corporate worship experiences. Formally or informally, every local congregation determines what is appropriate and valuable when they come together. Certainly, some non-negotiables come into play here, when we use clear passages of scripture to hedge certain speech, conduct, and practices. We don’t, for instance, find much value in barking like dogs, crowd surfing, or bringing one of our favorite pets to be sacrificed. But to be honest, scripture is fairly non-specific in laying out what is and is not to be allowed in corporate worship. Even so, that does not deter many from trying to institutionalize behaviors which are really nothing more than cultural preferences, or worse, simply the will of the most powerful influences in the local church. Unfortunately, these are often presented as biblical mandates worthy of universal acceptance.

We hear phrases like, “we don’t do (allow) that in our church,” or “that’s what they do in such and such a church.” As a child, I learned this lesson first hand when I observed a worship posture which felt “foreign” to me and not widely practiced in my conservative Lutheran church. It was really rather simple, and certainly within the bounds of scripture. A highly respected man (actually one of my godparents and the choir director of our church) returned from communion (we came forward back then) and simply knelt by his pew to offer a whispered prayer of thanks. Had our church had “kneelers” in front of the pews as do many other more formal churches, it probably would not have even caught my notice. Since we did not have such devices, you can correctly deduce that we were never on our knees—at least not on Sunday morning.

And yet here was Mr. Reinschmidt, kneeling right on the floor…and praying. By himself. I waited for the floor to part and for him to be swallowed up. Surprisingly, he is still alive today! It never even occurred to me that maybe he was just responding to a move of the Holy Spirit in that moment. And if that had been the case, he simply would have been one of many in a long line throughout history who felt the freedom to express with their bodies what was going on in their souls.

Later at lunch that day, I asked my dad (the pastor) what that was all about. I’ll never forget his answer. He shook his head and said simply, “O, that’s what Catholics do.” And his body language was anything but positive. When I pressed him about what he meant by that, he said ‘Lutherans try to avoid showy, even pharisaical postures’, such as hand raising, kneeling, etc. Wow! Without even realizing it, I had received a cultural explanation for why our church dismissed (even criticized) a very valid, scriptural act of worship.

My question is: “Who determines these boundaries or limits we place on the work of the Holy Spirit, especially when we usually begin our services in Jesus’ name and invite the Spirit to work among us?” Paul says in Galatians 5 that [since] Christ has set you free, make sure that you stay free and don’t get tied up again to the law (man’s rules and rituals). Obviously, this is not merely an issue with the contemporary church.

Consider this gem from the earliest local congregation. Acts 3:8 records that a man who was lame from birth and spent his days outside the temple begging, responded to his miraculous healing by “walking, leaping and praising God, and then “went into the temple with them (the disciples who prayed over him). Are we to conclude that the celebration stopped the moment he went inside? Well, if this incident were to have happened in 21st century America, it probably would depend on which church he went into. Paul exhorts us, however, to resist the cloning process in our local churches, do not quench the Spirit’s work among us, and reminds us: “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” (2 Corinthians 3:17)

I find that most Christian churches are so far away from the “out of control” freedom of expression that they fear in public worship that it makes me suspicious the Deceiver is more at work in this than we think. My suggestion: let’s venture into the area of encouraging freedom of expression which is orchestrated by the Holy Spirit in our public gatherings and see if we don’t experience more salvations, healings, power for daily living, and transformed churches. Then we will no longer need to remind people that Hope is EV-Free. They will already sense it.                           

                                                                                                                                tad

                     Portions of this article were excerpted from Sweet Sixteen - Worship and Arts Team Value 12: Encourage freedom of expression.

Pastor’s Point: Preaching to the Choir


Do you ever feel like your life is like an ongoing sound check: Testing, testing… Just when you think you can see the light at the end of the tunnel, you discover it’s an oncoming train. Put another way, You know it’s going to be a bad day when…

You see a 60 Minutes news team in your office
You call suicide prevention hotline, and they put you on hold.
You turn on the news, and they’re showing emergency routes out of the city.
Your twin sister forgot your birthday.
Your car horn goes off accidentally and remains stuck as you follow a group of Hell’s Angels on the highway.
Your boss tells you not to bother to take off your coat.
Your income tax check bounces.
You put both contact lenses in the same eye.

OK, so chances are none of those things is in your immediate future, but what about others, such as

You remain unemployed after months, if not years, of seeking work
Your home feels increasingly unsafe due to emotional or physical abuse
Your childhood innocence was shattered by sexual abuse
One of your parents abandoned you just when you needed them most
You are drowning in debt and see no way of escape
Your prayers for deliverance from addiction seem to go unanswered
You are facing retirement with uncertainty and financial instability

Where is God then? Is He on a break? Does He still care? And why does it seem that folks who don’t know God or aren’t even remotely trying to live for Him are prospering? Have you ever even been tempted to ask these kinds of questions? Well, welcome to the club! One of King David’s very own protégés, Asaph, put it all down in writing for us in his famous rant which we now call Psalm 73. Portions of it go like this:

[At times I am tempted to envy] the proud when I [see] them prosper despite their

wickedness.They seem to live such painless lives; their bodies are so healthy and strong.

They don’t have troubles like other people; they’re not plagued with problems like everyone else.

They wear pride like a jeweled necklace and clothe themselves with cruelty.

These fat cats have everything their hearts could ever wish for!

They scoff and speak only evil; in their pride they seek to crush others.

They boast against the very heavens, and their words strut throughout the earth.

And so [I am] dismayed and confused, drinking in all their words.

What does God know? Does the Most High even know what’s happening?

Look at these wicked people—enjoying a life of ease while their riches multiply.

Did I keep my heart pure for nothing? Did I keep myself innocent for no reason?

Then I went into your sanctuary, O God, and I finally understood the destiny of the wicked. Truly,

you put them on a slippery path and send them sliding over the cliff to destruction. In an instant they are destroyed, completely swept away by terrors.

 When you arise, O Lord, you will laugh at their silly ideas as a person laughs at dreams in the morning.

Then I realized that my heart was bitter, and I was all torn up inside.

I was so foolish and ignorant—I must have seemed like a senseless animal to you.

Yet I still belong to you; you hold my right hand.

You guide me with your counsel, leading me to a glorious destiny.

Whom have I in heaven but you? I desire you more than anything on earth.

My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak,

but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever.

There are times in this life when the only thing we can cling to is the surety of our relationship with God. We sing it this Sunday in our special, “I Know Who I Am.” I am yours and You are mine. Let that be ‘nuf said!’ To follow Jesus requires that we fix our eyes on Him and not get distracted by what’s going on in other peoples’ lives. There will always be someone who is smarter than you, wittier, more physically fit, better looking, appears to have a better family, smarter kids, more devoted spouse, blah, blah, blah. Comparisons are usually a bad idea. No sooner to you post on your bumper that your kid is an honor roll student than you are met with ’My kid can beat up your honor roll student!’ And on and on it goes.

What Asaph learned was what Yogi Berra, the famous Yankee catcher, once opined: “It ain’t over ‘til it’s over.” God has the final word, and what is true in the short run is not always indicative of one’s ultimate destiny. My (then) unsaved, much richer brother used to torment me with “when are you going to get a real job?” as he heaped up wealth and success pursuing the ‘good life.’ Sadly, he died at age 51 from alcoholism, with a broken marriage, a son who today is an atheist and a daughter who struggled for years in and out of jail. Fortunately for him, he came to Christ before he died, but left behind were the casualties of the slippery slope on which he lived his life.

So if you are in a season of ‘testing, testing’ right now, hold on to what you know to be true. You belong to God. And like the prayer you might have learned as a child, He is great and He is good. Asaph was right—whom have I in heaven but Him? Can I get an Amen?

                                                                                                                           tad

Pastor’s Point: The Only Thing We Have to Fear Is Fear Itself…and things that go ‘bump’ in the night.


Yeah, what did FDR know about it anyway? “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Right. Try telling that to a little boy growing up in South Dakota, far away from the wilds of Africa, but who still thought it necessary to pull his covers up around him (on the top bunk no less) so that tigers and lions couldn’t grab them and crawl up in his bed to eat him. Thinking back, I learned at least two things about fear pretty early on. First, it preys on our imagination, not of what is but what could be. And secondly, it must be managed or it can control us.

As a young lad, I had a vivid imagination. My mom used to say I’d have an ulcer by 15, because I was a worrier. Two of my biggest fears were (don’t laugh) people with handicaps and wild animals. As a toddler, I was traumatized by a young deaf man who would come to our house and could only communicate with guttural sounds and gestures. I found him frightening. Later in my early elementary school years, I found a man with no legs tipped over in his wheelchair near my home. I ran in the house to get help, but couldn’t keep from wondering if he could hurt me if I got close to him. Still another memory involved an usher in our church who (I kid you not) had a hook in place of an amputated hand, and when I went to put in my offering, he clamped the plate with this frightening appendage.

My second fear—that of jungle animals—came from our visiting an exhibit at the St Louis zoo. I remember locking eyes with a famous gorilla named Bushman who had died and been stuffed for all the world to see (and fear!). These two destabilizing fears—handicapped people and jungle animals—finally teamed up in my most vivid nightmare as a child. In the dream, I was on my backyard swing being pushed by my grandmother when what should appear out of the bushes behind me but a one-legged gorilla with a peg leg?! I froze in terror, and even though my grandmother repeatedly yelled for me to run, I couldn’t move. Only waking from the dream saved me from some horrific conclusion.

I’m sure many of you are shaking your heads and saying, “well this explains a lot.” But as absurd as it all seems to me (and you) now, I still recall how real all these fears were to me then and how firm was their grip on me throughout my childhood. Because left unchallenged, that’s how fear works. You and I are tempted throughout our life to be anxious about things, most of which will never happen or are not real threats. They dwell in the realm of what could be or perhaps what has happened to others, but will, in fact, never touch us. When tempted to camp out in these “mind” fields, we would do better to meditate on God’s word and engage in some rational Christian thinking. The psalmist describes the mental gymnastics like this:

The LORD is my light and my salvation—so why should I be afraid?

The LORD is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble?

Though a mighty army surrounds me, my heart will not be afraid.

Even if I am attacked, I will remain confident.

David knew the first rule of managing fear was to acknowledge it and then face it with faith. What I did as a child in moments of fear was to magnify the object of dread and minimize the One who could deliver me (Psalm 34:4). The antidote to these encounters is to do just the opposite.

The one thing I ask of the LORD—the thing I seek most—is to live in the [presence] of the LORD all the days of my life,

delighting in the LORD’s perfections and meditating in his Temple.

For he will conceal me there when troubles come; he will hide me in his sanctuary.

There I will offer sacrifices with shouts of joy, singing and praising the LORD with music.

Yet I am confident I will see the LORD’s goodness while I am here in the land of the living.

It was only after growing in my confidence in the Lord that I could see fear for what it really is…unfaith. Paul writes “be anxious for nothing” and that “God has not given us a spirit of fear.” Scripture teaches that we are not only to acknowledge fear but to confess it:

Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.

Point out anything in me that offends you, and lead me along the path of everlasting life.

It’s a bit like temptation. A thought in the mind is not in and of itself sin. It’s where we let that thought take us…to an obsession, an action, a habit, eventually to an addiction. But even Jesus was tempted, perhaps even to be afraid at times. In asking God to examine our anxious thoughts, we, like David, are praying that our thought life would not be allowed to offend God. Even our anxious thoughts. The remedy? Worship. And better yet, corporate worship, where others can encourage us and buoy us with their faith. Psalm 34 invites us:

Glorify the Lord with me; let us exalt His name together.

I sought the Lord and He answered me; he delivered me from all my fears.

Those who look to Him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.

Speaking as your worship pastor and choir director, my face will be covered with a lot less shame if you keep these admissions from my childhood on the “down low.” Besides, I totally don’t need to sleep on the top bunk anymore.

                                                                                                                                                            tad

Pastor’s Point

Welcome to each and every one of you who have joined us this fall! I hope you have had a refreshing break and are raring to go. To you veterans, you have been missed! To you rookies, we are glad you are here and hope you still feel the same in a few months!! As we start another choir season, we are following the theme “Shine Like Stars” throughout this year, taken from Philippians 2:  “Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life.”  

Each week, we want to look at a specific way we can achieve stardom, not as celebrities but as bright lights that make a difference. As a worship community, we will be studying a set of 16 core values (Sweet Sixteen) we hold up as a way of doing life together biblically. We begin that journey this Sunday as we look at the value of knowing the Word. In addition, this space in our newsletter will be devoted to sharing practical ways we can become brighter in our ministry toward one another and those we serve. While it is called the Pastor’s Point, I’d like to open it up to any of you who would like to contribute an article on this very topic.

As we start a new season, I am aware that each of us, here for the first time or “old-timers” wants to belong, to feel a part of, not apart from the group. And we want to be welcomed and accepted as we are, “warts and all.” Ken Medema, a blind, contemporary Christian songwriter, once wrote these words, referring to the church:

If this is not a place where tears are understood, where can I go to cry?

And if this is not a place where my spirit can take wing, where can I go to fly?

His chorus was equally compelling:

I don’t need another place for trying to impress you with just how good and

virtuous I am.

I don’t need another place for always being on top of things,

everybody knows

 that it’s a sham.

In truth, no matter where we spend the hours of each day, we can be surrounded by people and still feel alone. Maybe it’s because we are in a certain life situation, have a certain color of skin, or have arrived at a certain age that we don’t feel fully accepted. Put another way, we’ve been moved to the margins. We’ve all heard the term marginalized. It refers to those people or persuasions which are out of the mainstream, less influential, or even completely devalued. The dictionary lists, among it’s meanings, “the edge of something, especially the outer edge or the area close to it; the part farthest from the center- that part of anything, e.g., a society or organization, that is least integrated with the center. Least often considered, least typical or most vulnerable.”

Have you ever felt out of the mainstream, devalued, without influence where you want it most…in your job, in your marriage or family, in this church? Or maybe you are one of those who easily flows with the idea that in this dog-eat-dog world of ours, there will always be those who are “losers”, undesirables, or just inconveniences? In such a Darwinian approach to the masses, what’s the big deal when someone less educated, less attractive, perhaps less spiritual than the mainstream goes under for the third time?

But if we take our cues as shining stars from the Light of the World himself, it is a big deal. As our Good Shepherd, he relentlessly pursues those very kinds of people. Those people like you and me. I think of the line from the familiar hymn, “Come Thou Fount”– Jesus sought me when a stranger, wand’ring from the fold of God. Talk about your margins! While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. We weren’t just a little off-center…we were nearly over the cliff!

May it never be an acceptable notion to any of us at Hope that we are outside the margins of God’s love and redemption plan…ever! And may it be equally intolerable that we would view even one person we encounter as less than us or unworthy of the touch of God. As God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, let’s use margins for writing papers, not classifying people.

So, again, welcome to this choir season! Welcome to what I believe will be an exciting year of service, outreach and fun. But also welcome to the grand lab experiment we call Christian community, where we learn how to worship with a lot more than words.

                                                                                                                                                     tad



Pastor’s Point: I wouldn’t be caught dead…

You’ve certainly heard the phrase before. Perhaps you’ve even used it in conversation. I wouldn’t be caught dead… In reality, unless the Lord comes first, everyone of us will be caught dead doing something. I had a college buddy who got a letter from his mom informing him that their church organist had literally died in the middle of the service that Sunday. Needless to say, it was not a joyful noise.

As a retired pastor, my own grandfather, William Frederick Dommer, died instantly of a heart attack administering communion to a woman in a hospital. That’s the thing about death—no matter when it happens, there is always a where.

But this phrase, I wouldn’t be caught dead is usually heard in the context of some despicable job or life situation in which we could never imagine ourselves. Years ago, I served a church in the Chicago area as a minister of music and full time teacher in their Christian school. Once, while taking my eighth grade students on a field trip to a factory in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, I actually made the unfortunate and arrogant statement that “I wouldn’t be caught dead” working on an assembly line doing something menial and boring like that. Almost a year to the day later, I was standing in a paper mill, counting notebooks and packaging them for shipment…eight hours a day, six days a week.

It followed a fateful decision to leave that church position in Chicago and embark on a consulting ministry with a pastor friend of mine. Long story short, the free-lance ministry never gained traction, and I found myself jobless with a wife and three young kids in Appleton, Wisconsin. The factory job was my last resort. In fact, I wasn’t found dead in that paper mill, but for close to nine months I found myself slowly dying inside.

How could I have so misheard God? How could I have been so presumptuous as to leave one job without securing another? How could I take such a risk with my wife and family involved? And what good was I now to God, when all my education and training was for “ministry?” I’m making no music. I’m not teaching young minds the things of God. I’m not leading people in worship. And to add insult to injury, any attempt at rational Christian thought was drowned out by the noise of high-speed machinery and worse, the loud blaring rock music over the factory PA system.

Among the many decadent and depressing lyrics to which I was subjected was a song repeated several times daily by the rock band Pink Floyd. Into my already dwindling self esteem rang out this mantra…

We don't need no education

We don't need no thought control

No dark sarcasm in the classroom

Teachers leave those kids alone

Hey! teachers! leave those kids alone!

All in all you're just another brick in the wall.

Well I was no longer a teacher, but that is exactly how I began to feel. In the kingdom of God, I had become just another brick in the wall. So I cried out to God, admitting my sense of worthlessness, repenting of squandered opportunities and wasting His time in this God-forsaken place.

It was then that God spoke to me in a way I had not heard before and have treasured ever since. It went something like this: Tim, your value to me is not in what you do…in how much ministry you accomplish. Your value to me is simply that you are my son. I pictured, for a moment, those words ringing over Jesus after His baptism…this is My Son, in whom I am well pleased. At the beginning of…not the end of…His public ministry. God’s pleasure in Jesus was rooted in relationship, not behavior. If that were not the case, God could not be pleased with any of us. As the Psalmist says in Psalm 130: If you should [keep track of] iniquity, who could stand? God’s introduction of Jesus to the world was not “TA DA! Meet the Savior of the world!” but rather, “Here’s my Boy, in whom I am well pleased.” The Father delighted in His Son simply because He was His Son.

We have been bought with a price, not with silver or gold, but with Jesus’ very own blood, to secure that relationship. It was, after all, while we were yet sinners that Christ died for us. That’s how much we matter to Him. Do you believe that on a deep level? I know for me personally, it took me ending up in a place “I wouldn’t be caught dead” to really discover my true value to God.

                                                                                                                                                      tad

Memories of Mom 

Her children stand and bless her. Proverbs 31:28 

As I was driving to work today I passed by several flags displayed throughout my neighborhood. What’s the deal?—I thought. July 4th is three weeks away, and we just celebrated Memorial Day. Then it occurred to me—it’s flag day—June 14th, and immediately a smile came to my face. It was also my late mother’s birthday, and the running joke in our house was how the whole country honored her birthday by flying their flags. In the decades since she left this earth, I have come to understand how worthy of honor she really was, whether anyone else in the country knew it or not.

Her name betrayed the period of time and culture she came from…Edna Mae. As names go, I never really cared for it while she was alive, but since her passing, it has taken on a sweetness like few others. Born in 1925, she crammed a lot of life into her 53 years. Married at 18, a mother at 19, a grandmother at 46, her life seems to have been characterized by how much she did simply because she had to do it.

Though she loved her southern roots, she left her family and friends at age 20 and followed my dad to the bustling metropolis of Yale, South Dakota, population 150. Its tallest structure was the water tower. One of my earliest memories of my mom’s life was the piles of laundry that stalked her day after day. Since she lived in the day prior to wrinkle-free anything, every shirt, pair of pants, heck—every handkerchief(!) that my dad needed in his profession had to be washed in a washtub, rung out and hung out to dry, then starched and pressed for every day of the week. Add to that the clothing needs of six kids and her own clothes, and you have just written a full-time job description right there.

And where did this stay-at-home mom perform these duties? In various matchbox-sized parsonages, the largest one totaling 1500 sq. ft. (It was only after most of her children had “left the nest” that she and Dad were rewarded with a much larger, modern home. Go figure that one.) The first of these homes did not have indoor plumbing. For the first 17 years of mom’s married life, air circulation was created by the cross breeze of open windows, or perhaps a ceiling fan; air-conditioning was inconceivable, as were dishwashers, garbage disposals, washers and driers, much less first floor laundries, master bathrooms, carpeting, frost-free refrigerators, and Wal-Marts. (You’re thinking, “What was this, the Cro-Magnon period?”) For the rest of her life you can add to that list things like online banking, cell phones, computers, or a myriad of other conveniences the modern-day mother has available to her.

She didn’t have a lot of formal education, but was she full of wisdom. She was a tomboy as a child, but as a young woman her womb became the safe and tender incubator for five boys and one girl, all before her 28th birthday. In her seventh month of pregnancy with me, she required an emergency appendectomy. From that moment on, I gave up expecting to be her favorite. But she did know me. In a clan of six, I was still on her radar. She started every one of her children on a musical instrument. I was the only one she never allowed to quit. She taught me my first song, “Whispering Hope”, when I was five. She observed that though, like my siblings, I hated to practice, I seemed to gravitate to the piano to express my soul.

She was not a perfect woman, but I never heard profanity fall from her lips even once. (In retrospect, I wonder where all of those frustrating thoughts got processed.) Regardless, any slips of the tongue on my part were rewarded with a mouth washing—with soap. That practice did little to cleanse the heart, but it did raise a value and leave an impression.

One thing I have come to believe is that mothers are handpicked for us. In many ways, my mom could have been more nurturing, more emotionally connected. But she sought to toughen me up and round me out. She helped me to become more socially involved, pressed me into activities, sports, etc. which not only helped me to break free from the typical artist stereotype, but also brought me a lot of fun and a sense of accomplishment.

I remember her helping me transition from Christian elementary school to public junior high. When I came home from a football game with neighborhood kids at age 12, I was stressing over all the profanity I had heard. I went straight to my room and burst into tears. “I’m not going to school with those sinners,” I said. She would have none of it, and basically told me to wake up and smell the decaf. I can’t remember her exact words, but they went something like this: “This is the real world, son, and you better get used to it. No one ever died from hearing curse words, so learn to deal with it.” While she would never win any touchy-feely awards, it was, “like a word fitly spoken, an apple of gold.” (Proverbs 25:11) And you know what? She was right. I’m still alive.

As a child, I never went without a meal, lacked for clothing, attended church with unpolished shoes (or missed church for that matter, unless sick at home with a fever), felt unsafe or uncared for. Was I ever misunderstood?—sure. Did she ever hurt my feelings or wound my spirit?—of course. But she also taught me much about Jesus, encouraged me to sing in the church choir, even made a lame attempt at sex ed. I remember distinctly her showing me pictures in a doctor’s book of where babies come from, after I embarrassed her and her very pregnant sister by asking, “Why are you just fat in the stomach?”

After the discovery of colon cancer at age 52 and months of failed chemo treatments, she began preparing to die. In anticipation of her death, she wrote her own funeral service, beginning with “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” and ending with “How Great Thou Art.” Thirty three years later, I still miss her, admire her, and look forward to our reunion. 

Today I look back with gratitude for God’s personal selection of my mother. What about you? Good or bad, treasure or trial, they are the vessel our Creator God used to start us on the journey of a life with Him. To the degree that they reflected His image and kindness to us, we can count ourselves extremely blessed. And at whatever level they failed to demonstrate that and took from us more than they gave, perhaps God even used that to draw us more desperately to Him. The fact is that when He chose to reveal Himself to us in history, He selected the safety and security of a mother’s womb for His very own Son. Accepting His handpicked choice for our mother is the very first step toward learning to trust His judgment. When it comes to mothers, I have come to the conclusion that Father knows best.