Seattle's Qwest Field – Not Just for Football

The photo above is how Qwest Field looked yesterday as close to 1,400 Seattle Pacific University graduates received their Baccalaureate, Masters and Doctorate degrees.

My nephew Mike Narva (second cousin, to be accurate) was among them, at right, about to receive his B.A. in Psychology from SPU’s president, Dr. Phil Eaton.

Mike’s brother Andrew had received his B.A. in Spanish studies over the Memorial Day weekend from the University of Redlands in California.

Both young men finished their undergraduate work at about the same time due to the fact that Mike had transferred in to SPU, and he had to take additional work because not everything transferred fully for his major. He wisely took an extra half year to complete his studies and technically was finished at the end of last winter’s term.

The commencement speaker was, in my humble opinion, one of the strongest and most interesting I’ve ever heard. Her discourse jarred my relatively complacent value system.

Giving basically a poignant challenge to both grads and attendees, Dr. Barbara Williams-Skinner made a very strong case for Christians to live out their faith and personally get involved in helping those who cannot help themselves, especially victimized children, regardless of skin color.

When God looked down on the needs of humankind, she said, he did not send a check. He sent his Son. She urged us to act accordingly, even if it means adhering to principles that are alien and in conflict with the political order, the social order, and our cultural beliefs.

She is president and co-founder of the Skinner Leadership Institute and is the widow of the late Rev. Tom Skinner, former chaplain to the Washington Redskins and the New York Yankees.

We thoroughly enjoyed having our extended family in our area of the country for such a special occasion, and we had a chance last evening to all be together at a fine Seattle restaurant gathering.

Now Mike and Andrew will focus on their respective vocations that lie ahead. Both are very gifted in their chosen areas of interest. We’ll be watching with great anticipation and also a bit of healthy family pride as they continue their walk down life’s pathway.

Our Family Enjoys SPU Ivy Cutting Ceremony

My cousin Jim Narva and his wife, Kay, are in the northwest this weekend attending the graduation of their elder son Mike from Seattle Pacific University.

Two weeks ago, Andrew, their younger son (by a year or so), received his Baccalaureate degree from the University of Redlands in southern California.

That’s two birds out of the nest within a two-week period. Quite an accomplishment for all.

That’s Jim and Kay, above left, with Mike (in cap and gown with his ivy cutting) and Andrew on the right.

Tomorrow my wife and I will attend Mike’s receiving of his Baccalaureate degree at Qwest Field in Seattle where the NFC champion Seahawks play their home games each Fall. Following the event we’ll celebrate both young men’s accomplishments at a dinner at a restaurant on Lake Union. We look forward to it very much.

But today was the famed “Ivy Cutting Ceremony” at SPU. At an on-campus, outdoor gathering of graduates, faculty, parents and guests, the senior class is honored in a ceremony at which each graduate cuts a piece of ivy from the campus vines which have been placed around them.

The ritual signifies the student’s “cutting himself or herself loose” from one aspect of life and being released to take on another exciting chapter. The event is a long-standing tradition at SPU, and many graduates comment in later years that they remember the ivy cutting as much or more as the actual commencement exercises.

In any case, today’s was another memorable ceremony for this year’s SPU grads including Mike. And what was especially nice is that many of us in the extended family were able to experience it with him.

A Splash of Color To Complement The Green

After the long, wet Spring here in the northwest, everything that grows is doing just that – rather quickly and almost overbearingly now that better weather is slowly entrenching itself.

In fact, up until a day ago, you could have called several areas “overgrown”, at least on our little speck of land. Consequently, this morning we are feeling the “sore muscle” aftermath of a long afternoon yesterday working in the yard.

Weeds were whacked, bushes were pruned, lawns were cut, trash was hauled and the driveway, every walkway, and the porches were blown clean of nature’s droppings. Today, you can notice the improvements.

One of the most obvious improvements is the accenting color splash in the back yard from the clusters of fresh flowers my wife planted (one such grouping is shown above). She has a real knack for placing them perfectly to provide an ideal complement of tints and hues to relieve the omnipresent natural green tones.

Now, of course, we’ll probably have to get a bench or some chairs for the backyard so we can sit and admire her environmental handiwork. The beauty around us is a constant and comforting reinforcement for why we live here.

We’ll have to put off “sitting” for a bit, however; Kay Lynne is today coping with her soreness by measuring for the kitchen improvements.

Dispelling Ambivalence

Lately, I’ve been trying to conjure up enthusiasm. Maybe it’s the time of the year.

It would seem, however, that with summer approaching, this would be an upbeat time – what with living here in the mostly moist northwest. Isn’t the imminent season when we finally get some extended periods of sunshine? (Not necessarily :-).

We are looking forward to visits from family and friends this summer. That’s an upper! But the porches need painting, the leaky skylights need attention and my wife wants to “upgrade” the kitchen. And that’s enough to give one pause.

In July we plan to drive to California for an extended family anniversary celebration and also to visit our life-long friends there (at least six different couples). That’s also exiting. But both cars need mechanical and cosmetic attention. And that means throwing more money at depreciating assets.

With summer approaching I should be looking forward to the best fishing of the year. That’s usually enough to really make me upbeat. But I just sold my boat (turned out to be too heavy to easily haul around this area.)

Hopefully, though, I can soon find a relatively inexpensive, used, easily trailerable, aluminum replacement for chasing trout (and maybe for taking a short cruise on the Sound on a calm day). This, of course, is investing in a depreciating asset.

I could go on. But I guess I’m just feeling a little ambivalent about things right now.

Wait a minute. If these are my copious concerns, things can’t be all that bad.

Come to think of it, there’re a whole lot of great, anticipatory events coming up. Could I just be whining about a few necessary vicissitudes of life?

Probably so. By nature, I’m usually a total optimist. I really am. I really am.

Isn’t it great how just putting things into perspective can send ambivalence running? See it fading?

Re-Drafting My Spiritual Formation – Log #10: “Passing the Peace” Is Much More Than A Salutation

In the Lutheran tradition, with which my wife and I are becoming more familiar, we often “pass the peace.” It is a warm greeting in which we simply say to one another, “Peace be with you”.

But I’ve discovered that “passing the peace” is a lot more than just a friendly salutation.

Through the years I have thought of “peace” mostly in the sense of “absence of war”. I grew up with the "Peace-nik” generation. Their primary concern was the elimination of war (no matter what the cost to freedom, unfortunately).

So in my normal idiom, the concept of “peace” mostly connoted a state of tranquility that we should strive for but that would be virtually impossible to attain.

I must also admit that I often wondered how just “declaring” a desire for peace (as the “Peace-niks did) would keep the bully away, but that’s another issue.

In a similar sense, I also wondered how wishing peace to or for someone would do anything to actually bring peace. To me, that usually came off like a non-actualizing but nice sounding greeting – mostly around church people.

But I’m now coming to appreciate something much more encompassing. When Christ himself appeared to his disciples – sometimes suddenly and out of nowhere – his first words often were “peace be with you”. He calmed their anxieties without them even asking.

Of course Christ was the personification of peace, and in fact, he was the “prince of peace”. So it seemed relatively easy to understand his greeting in that context.

But, as I said, there’s more. In John 14, at the last supper, Jesus told his disciples, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give (peace) to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not be afraid.”

A little later in that fateful evening meal he continued, “I have told you these things so that in me (italics mine) you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

What an empowering declaration!

At the core of our understanding of peace, then, should be the particular and distinctive peace that only Christ can provide.

The peace of Christ is calming. The peace of Christ relieves anxiety. The peace of Christ rises above trouble. And the peace of Christ enables us to overcome the difficulties we may face in our world.

It is no wonder that the rite of benediction with which we are blessed at the close of each worship service (and which, I believe, is rooted in the ancient Aaronic or priestly blessing) includes the words, “the Lord…. be gracious to you…. and give you peace.”

Now, when I have the privilege of “passing the peace” I do so knowing that our Lord himself did it and that it has been practiced by his church ever since the first century. And I do it with the knowledge that its power and blessing is embodied in everything Christ is as the Prince of Peace.

May the peace of Christ be with you.

Piscatorial Fortunes Change Overnight

It’s amazing how different fishing can be from one day to the next.

Early yesterday morning my son Doug and I headed east over the Cascades into the Okanogan country, in the northern sector of central Washington.

Our destination was Conconully Reservoir, adjacent to the little town of Conconully, which in turn is about 10 miles northwest of Omak which is…. Best to just look on a map if you really care. It’s 235 miles and almost 5 driving hours from Seattle.

We heard on the car radio about the incredible Spring runoff going on from the rapidly melting snowpack – especially the Wenatchee River near Leavenworth – but we paid little attention because we were only going to pass through the area on the way.

The Wenatchee River was as predicted – a roiling torrent, like as not seen in many years, but that’s another story.

Rain hit the windshield all the way over Stevens pass, but the weather cleared as we neared Conconully. We “fished” from about 3 pm until dark – with little action and no fish. A skunk!

The resort owner had warned us on arrival. “Fishing’s been slow this week,” she said. The town is in near flood stage from the runoff, and the reservoir is totally full with the discolored water gushing over the spillway of the earthen dam.

The fish were scattered and the water was cloudy, but we gave it a try because we had had very good luck there last summer, as Doug’s 3+ pound rainbow had attested.

But it wasn’t to be this time. What to do now? How could we salvage the trip?

No problem, try Fish Lake which is between Leavenworth and Stevens Pass and where Doug, at least, has never not limited out. Besides, it was on the way home, anyway.

We got up at 5 this morning at the Omak Inn, packed up and began the 2-1/2 hour drive back to Fish Lake. We were on the water well before 9:00.

I don’t think my F6 flatfish even got thoroughly wet before my pole tip throbbed from an attack by a hungry rainbow. And so went the day.

They hit and hit and hit, more than making up for yesterday. We probably caught over 30 fish between us, and Doug brought home a really nice brown trout which he and Jamie broiled for dinner.

If there’s a moral to this story, heed weather reports and don’t fish where they’re not biting. The best part for me, though, was getting to spend most of two days with my otherwise busy son, satisfying, temporarily, our mutual piscatorial addiction.

Mom. Grandma and Wife – She’s the Complete Package

Today is Mother’s Day – the day we set aside to remember and honor the one who gave us life, (with incidental help from Dad, of course).

My mom has been gone for 47 years come next month, and I still think of her frequently – especially on days like this.

In his providence, God gave me another incredible Mom with whom to share life’s journey – my wife, Kay Lynne. In my eyes, she’s a mom who has few, if any, equals. Have you met our two sons?

She’s also a mind-boggling Grandma. All you have to do is ask any of our three granddaughters, like almost four-year-old Aubrey, above left, with her Grandma a few weeks ago at Disneyland.

My wife has given all of herself to her family. It’s the most noble quality, and there is not a higher compliment you can pay a person. She has a seemingly infinite and unconditional love for her family.

She’s the complete package.

Island Lake – Not What It Once Was, But Still Pretty Good

Yesterday I finally got a chance to fish at Island Lake in the Silverdale area while my wife took care of other business in the shopping center.

I had first heard about this lake from my California bud, Ed Wall, who in his younger days lived in 15 different houses in the nearby Port Orchard/Bremerton area. The house thing is another story.

Ed used to go to Island Lake as a teen-ager where at that time (the mid-1950’s) there was an establishment somewhere on the Lake that hosted weekend dances. Seems this popular gal from East (Bremerton) High named Darlene was known to cut a sassy swath on the dance floor there.

Ed didn’t (and doesn’t) know how to dance much, but he’d “hang” there on Saturday nights in his white T-shirt with sleeves rolled up and low-slung Levis, hoping to catch Darlene’s eye.

I guess it must have worked. They’ve been married almost 45 years. (The photo shows Ed and Darlene with their five grandchildren, taken just short of two weeks ago.)



But yesterday, hard as I looked, I saw no dance hall at the lake. In fact, I saw no island either. The sleepy, now darkly-hued but still quite clear body of water is surrounded by hills, homes, cabins, trees and a couple of outlying middle-class real estate developments.

I found a fishing dock at the County Park that has been nicely developed there with a playground, rest rooms, and improved shoreline. They stock the lake each spring with a few thousand catchable-sized rainbow trout, including some larger triploids. With a few even better-sized carryovers always around from the previous year, it offers a nice recreational challenge.

Six of us were on the dock for the two hours I had my line in the water. That’s 12 fisherman-hours. Three rainbows were caught. That means, on average, it takes four hours to catch a rainbow there.

Unfortunately, you know how short a time I had to soak bait. You can make your own conclusion as to whether or not I caught fish.

The best part of being there, however, was getting to see a spectacular Washington wild life "happening". The guy next to me hooked a fish, but it shook the snare and disappeared in the murky-bottomed drink before he could get it in. Soon the fish could be seen floating belly-up on the surface about 50 feet out.

In less than 10 seconds from the time we spotted the fish, two giant Bald Eagles swooped down from the treetops about 150 yards away. In no time the birds were skimming along like gliders, a foot or two off the water, heading straight for the gasping fish.

While still moving very fast, the lead bird effortlessly snatched the fish from the water with its sharp talons and aerobatically soared upward and back toward the lair with the fish continuing to struggle in the deadly grip.

A perfect precision-like maneuver by the once-endangered eagle resulted in life likely continuing for the pair’s young. I had witnessed a snapshot of nature’s indiscriminate life cycle.

And all of this occurred just a 20-minute drive from home. Is this a great State, or what?

An Airline Who’s Quick On The Tarmac As Well As In The Air

It’s been quite a while since I had made a one-day business trip to another city. Of course that always means getting up at the crack of dawn and getting to bed very late the same night with a whole lot sandwiched in between.

Yesterday I had to fly to Spokane to take care of some pressing things, so I decided to make the trek in just a day. Southwest Airlines has a senior fare (cheapest fare out there) that you can buy with no advance purchase, so I took advantage of it the day before.

The low, easily available fare had, this time at least, offset the airline’s lousy boarding and seating procedures (I HATE waiting in a line to fight for a seat location someone else likely has already taken).

I arrived, finally, at Seatac about 7:45 a.m. for a 9:00 flight to GEG. Twenty five minutes later I had skated through check-in and security and was waiting for the plane to arrive. Being Southwest, the plane arrived exactly on time. Wow, I thought, this is great.

Until, at 9:05 after we had boarded, the captain announced that we would be going nowhere on this particular aircraft due to a sensor malfunction in the right engine.

Usually, this would send me to “ruinsville”. Reason is, I'm aware that most airlines would take at least two or three hours to get you re-routed and to your destination, and I had a late morning meeting.

But Southwest to the rescue.

After we deplaned, they simply moved us over two gates, and we waited ten minutes for the plane from Sacramento to arrive. Normally, it would turn around and go back to Sacto, but because there were far more passengers waiting to go to Spokane than back south, they did what I think NO other airline could do on the spur of the moment.

They made a decision to put us on the arriving Sacramento plane and then sent us off to Spokane within 20 minutes. They called up mechanics from Oakland to fix the disabled plane, and put the southbound passengers on the next plane going south, hardly missing a beat in the days’ routine.

It was poetry in motion by an airline. And the quickest thinking and acting by airline operations people I’ve ever seen. We arrived in Spokane barely 30 minutes later than originally scheduled – an unbelievable accomplishment.

KUDOS TO SOUTHWEST, as they “saved” my day. I even returned home feeling rested because I accomplished what I had set out to do, even though it was a long day.

Re-Drafting My Spiritual Formation – Log #9: Trying to Grasp Luther’s Double Negative

Worshipping in a mainline Church for the first time in my life and trying to absorb the meaning relating to same are causing me to stretch the conventions of my spiritual thought processes.

Late last week my wife and I had dinner with two of the Pastors on our Church’s staff. They are the Revs Kent and Alison Shane, a unique husband and wife team who job-share one full time position but each with different portfolios. Both hold M.Div. degrees in theology, and both are ordained in the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America.

Our discussion soon headed into the aspects of Luther’s thought with which we were less familiar and about which we had questions.

After sharing our diverse backgrounds we began to discuss the predictable. What were Martin Luther’s views on sin, the depravity of man, grace, redemption, salvation, etc., etc.? Of course to deal with all of this would have taken years more than the couple of hours we had available.

We ended up kind of focusing on God’s grace and mercy and on how undeserving we are of them. In fact, we discussed how humankind is incapable of doing anything that could earn us even a part of salvation.

I happened to mention that I had found John Wesley’s concept of “prevenient grace” quite satisfactory in this regard; that is, in Wesley’s view God provides even the grace needed before we are even capable of asking for it or experiencing it.

Pastor Alison spoke up and said, “Luther goes even farther than that.”

“Luther believed that we can’t not sin,” she interjected. And by that he believed we could do nothing in and of ourselves to earn or gain salvation. According to the church’s tradition, Luther may have even believed that to ask God for salvation was itself an act of works.

Carried further, Luther believed that when it came to behavior, we humans really have no choice at all. According to the book of Romans we have no free will in this regard. Therefore, God alone could, and must, provide salvation, and in this there is total freedom.

On the way home, with what I’d been taught as an evangelical admittedly lingering in my thoughts, there was one looming question: What, then, is the responsibility of the individual, if any, with regard to pardon, salvation, and attaining the Kingdom of God?

O, I know the easy evangelical answer. But now I’m contemplating these notions from a new angle.

Re-Drafting My Spiritual Formation – Log #8: New Discoveries In An Ancient Faith

During my 50-plus years as a Christian, for a myriad of reasons, I had never given much thought to nor thoroughly investigated “mainline” denominational faith practice.

O, what I have missed out on.

I am so reminded each Sunday as my wife and I continue to worship in a “mainline” church, First Lutheran of Poulsbo.

What is apparently happening, little by little, is that I’m beginning to encounter aspects of the faith that either had little or misconstrued meaning before, or were missed altogether.

How could this be true, you might ask? Where have you been for all these years, you might inquire?

Rather than passing judgment on what has been before, I’d instead like to focus on the emerging nuggets of the faith that I’m experiencing.

In this post I’d like to spotlight just one – liturgy. In the past I was led to believe that such consisted mostly of “vain repetitions” and was “lifeless” or lacked "vitality". So I discounted it out of ignorance.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. In the Lutheran tradition, at least, I’m learning that the liturgy leads us through several key elements of worship and faith practice. And because it is rehearsed in one form or another at virtually every worship service it gradually imbeds itself in our innermost being (the transforming and motivating use of the Gospel, as we learned in last Sunday’s sermon).

And I’m now beginning to feel the sustaining effects throughout the week.

I am also confounded as to how I could have been so blind all these years. Unexpectedly, my lifelong quest for a personally meaningful and sustaining faith is now finding location in the elements of faith practice that, in my experience at least, were largely overlooked.

Much of the liturgy is a recitation of scripture – hardly a thing that should not be repeated. Much of it is also a summary of the key creeds and confessions of faith that are the bedrock of Christianity. And much of it is “guided” prayer – making sure that we commune with God not only in the ways we have been instructed but also with a proper attitude.

It all sounds so elementary, but I somehow didn’t connect with it. I regret that. But I’m making up for it as quickly as I can. Thanks be to God.

Some of Us “Have It”, and Some of Us Don’t

Early this past week, as my son Gregg and his wife Elaine were leaving for a Pastors Conference, I noticed his golf bag on the ground next to the car waiting to be packed into the trunk. The bag had a healthy coat of dust on it.

Pastors don’t have a lot of time for golf. But Gregg doesn’t allow that little restriction to affect his game.

As we were chatting several days later upon their return, I casually asked, “Well, where’s the golf trophy?” I should have known better, as Elaine pointed to the back of the house and said, “It’s still in the car.”

Gregg had won the annual Pastor’s Golf tournament – a much enjoyed recreational break at the conclave of Friends Pastors who work so hard all year in their respective churches.

I stand in awe of those who are so athletically gifted. He hadn’t touched a club in almost nine months. Yet, he was able to work out the muscle kinks quickly and make some shots.

I’ve wondered to myself if his best natural athletic talent isn’t on the golf course – his lifelong passion for and stellar performance in baseball notwithstanding. Gregg has what is called a “sweet swing”; the ball just “seems” to go right where it should almost all the time.

A few years ago he and I at the same time got nice sets of new faux “Major Brand” golf clubs, custom fitted for each of us by a California Pastor friend who does this as a hobby. I kidded Gregg that it must have been his nice newer clubs that got him the win.

Funny, my new clubs are exactly the same as his, but I still manage to add more than a stroke a hole to his score.

I guess some of us “have it”, and some of us don’t.

Opening Day

Today was the general trout season opener for lakes in the State of Washington. To avoid the crowds, my son Doug and I went to Fish Lake in Chelan County, near the Bavarian Village of Leavenworth, because it’s one of a few open to fishing year around. The crowds were at the lakes that opened today.

The decision turned out to be a good one. In just over five hours of fishing, we netted over 20 nice rainbow trout – many healthy 12” to 14” “carryovers” along with some of this Spring’s spunky plants.

By Doug’s count, we caught 23; by my recollection we got around 20. Believe Doug. In any case it was enough to release the anxiety created by lack of fishing for the past several months during the winter season (except for one nice steelhead trip).

Before anyone has a conniption about limits (five per person per day on Fish Lake), we used artificial lures most of the time and released the fish safely back into the water. Trout caught in this manner are not counted in the “keep” limit.

Fish Lake is without doubt the most dependable, consistent trout lake I’ve ever fished. Doug has LIMITED EVERY TIME he’s gone there, and that is about 30 trips! I haven’t always limited, but I’ve never been “skunked” there.

All in all it was a great day. The weather conditions at the lake were perfect for fishing, while it rained all day here at home. Usually the opposite is true. Besides, to be able to enjoy a bit of recreation with your son that both of you relish makes it all worthwhile.

Heading for the Finish Line

Yesterday was unforgettable. We watched Talli, our 6th grade Middle School granddaughter (above) run the anchor leg of her 4 x 400-meter relay team at a track meet near the Capitol city of Oregon. And this was after she had endured both the 1500-meter and the 800-meter runs less than an hour before.

I don’t think I ran that far -- even in high school -- during my entire four years.

Add it up. That’s over a mile and a half total, most of it at a well paced sprint. Just thinking about it makes me tired. However, I recall that in my youth, I was pretty fast also – for a full 30 meters, at least.

But, to compete over a mile and a half at speed, all during a single meet -- and in Middle School, no less, with some runners two years older -- that's a real athletic accomplishment!

Talli has inherited some good running genes. Her mom was an outstanding distance runner on her own in high school and college. Her great grandfather on her dad’s side was a decorated Nebraska high school high hurdler in the late 1920’s. And I’m sure there’s more which I’m forgetting.

We’ve enjoyed the better part of this week with all three of our granddaughters while their mom and dad were away at a conference. The metaphor of this blog is also suggestive of a distance run. It’s a great time to be alive.

A Glorious Day… and “Thar She Blows”

Today is another one of those days that explains why those of us who live here in the Pacific Northwest choose to remain here. It is drop-dead gorgeous – not a cloud in the sky in any direction.

To the west of us, the freshly snow-capped Olympic mountains are gleaming in the sunlight, set off by green forests and the deep blue waters of Agate Passage in Puget Sound. Truly, the firmament today shows the fathomless handiwork of God himself.

I snapped the above photo early this afternoon just after returning home from church. A few minutes later I was taking in more of the glorious scene from our front balcony, while keeping one eye on the dog attending to his duties, when I noticed the water stirring in just one place about 100 yards off shore.

Such an occurrence I had not seen before, so I kept watching. Suddenly the turbulent water parted, and a large, ballooning mist shot upward some 20 feet or more into the air. I blinked – and blinked again – and yelled for Kay Lynne.

A large whale had just exhaled right in front of our house. After blowing, she slowly rolled forward, back into the water, and her tail appeared momentarily just before she disappeared. It was a visual I’ll never forget.

I assume it was a “she” because I’ve heard of mother Grays and Orcas guiding their calves into the shallower areas of Puget Sound to more easily teach them a life lesson. Usually the sightings occur in the deeper waters of the main Sound,

We have had sightings recently, however, in Sinclair Inlet in the Bremerton area. But never, since we’ve lived here at least, in Agate Passage, which at high tide doesn’t reach 10 fathoms.

I’m going to assume it was a gray whale because I saw no large dorsal that are distinctive of Orcas. But whatever the species, it was large. I just wish I’d have had my camera on the balcony.

Re-Drafting My Spiritual Formation – Log #7: Fresh Meaning for the Easter Season

I’ve been a “Christian” for going on 60 years. But, in a fascinating sort of way, I’m just now discovering some of the richness in the faith that I had obviously just “glossed over” in the past.

Last night my wife and I went to Maundy Thursday Services at the Lutheran Church we are attending. Maundy Thursday is the day during which we observe and celebrate Christ’s last Passover meal with his disciples, just before he was led away early the next morning to be crucified.

The event is commonly known as “The Last Supper”, from which the practice and Sacrament of Holy Communion is derived. But the Maundy Thursday rite embraces additional truths.

First, it is the inauguration of the “Triduum”, the three final days of Lent. In the Lutheran tradition at least, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Saturday night’s Easter Vigil (waiting, as the women did, for the resurrection) are observed as a continuous celebration commemorating the central acts of Christianity, as each day requires the others for full understanding and meaning.

At some Maundy Thursday observances a “foot washing” ceremony is held, signifying the servitude Jesus exemplified as he washed the disciples’ feet as they gathered for the Last Supper. Our service, incidentally, did not include the foot washing custom.

The word “Maundy” is an English form of the Latin word for “commandment”. We also get our word “mandate” from this root. Jesus’ new commandment to his disciples was that they should “love one another even as I have loved you”. His ultimate example of love was to give himself on the cross for all of us.

After a sermon by the Rev. Kent Shane that expanded a bit more on the reasons for this observance, we then concluded our worship with the celebration of Holy Communion, along with the prayer that we will become Christ-like in offering ourselves in loving service to the world around us.

We dismissed, interestingly, with no benediction. The same will be true at tonight’s Good Friday service as well as at tomorrow night’s Easter Vigil. The benediction is withheld until Sunday, at the glorious conclusion of our Easter celebration, when the meaning and message of the season is complete.

Thanks be to God.

Re-Drafting My Spiritual Formation – Log #6: Anticipating Worship

I must admit, regrettably, that heading for church on Sunday mornings has not always been the wonderful experience I would have hoped for. For a long time this has been a source of frustration and disappointment for me.

Lately, however, I find myself looking forward to each Sunday’s worship. I’ve spent a good deal of recent reflection trying to discover why this is taking place. And the truth is, I’ve had a difficult time putting into words the sort of metamorphosis that is occurring.

In discussing the quandary with my wife at brunch after Church last Sunday, I think we might have had an epiphany. We had just experienced a wonderful Palm Sunday worship service at Poulsbo First Lutheran Church, where we have attended, as possible, for more than six months.

As we entered the narthex, we were handed palm branches and told that we would “process” into the sanctuary momentarily. The opening liturgy – Scriptures, recitations and hymns compiled to allow God “to gather us for worship” – took place right there in preparation for our entry into worship.

Then, accompanied by a processional hymn, we proceeded into the Sanctuary to our seats to listen to God speak to us. He did so in diverse ways. We sang hymns. We read Scripture from the Old Testament, from the New Testament and from the Gospels. We prayed together and recited the ancient creeds of the faith.

One of our Pastors, the Rev. Alison Shane, delivered an insightful sermon about the meaning and implications of Palm Sunday, particularly contrasting Christ’s ministry up to that point with that in the (Holy) week just ahead, the last days before his crucifixion and resurrection.

The light went on, I think, sometime between the worship service and our brunch. The key to our newfound delight in worship may hinge on one primary factor: participation.

We suddenly realized that in the “evangelical milieu”, where we had been for the past several decades, Sunday church is a spectator event for the most part. We were entertained by musicians, music groups, drama troupes and media-driven sermons. We were even made to feel good – for the moment, at least. And all we had to do was arrive and get comfortable in a pew.

Sometimes the sermon was even strong enough to impact our lives. And we would try like mad for a few days to effect it. The entertainment factor usually wore off by Sunday night, however, when the boob tube took over with superior amusement. For me, the staying effects of that kind of worship often resulted in what felt like spiritual "let down" much too soon.

In contrast, we realize, in our present worship experience, we participate at almost every level. We process into the sanctuary (at least on last Sunday). We sing the hymns together. We recite the scriptures. We rehearse the ancient creeds. We partake in the Sacraments. We respond to the sermon. Week after week this has had a very positive cumulative impact on our spirituality.

This fresh (for us), seemingly more authentic mainline worship experience has resulted in a discernable change taking place in our lives. It’s hard to quantify, but we know it’s there. For one thing, we are spiritually sustained throughout the week. In fact, we’re already anticipating worship in God’s presence next Sunday.

Thanks be to God.

Photo Reminiscences of Disneyland

Above shows the immense size of the Silver Bullet hanging roller coaster at Knotts Berry Farm. The coaster is ABOVE you and your feet hang loose on this ride and extend straight up toward the sky when you loop. It was Talli's (above right) favorite. Below are Elaine, Hayley and Aubrey on the monster ferris wheel, and below that the three kids enjoy cotton candy on the one cold day when it rained.




Doug, Talli and Gregg are about to be hoisted straight up the tower some 100-plus feet and then dropped in a free fall. Yiiiikes.

Aubrey and Hayley enjoying the happiest place on earth.





Grandma took the bottom pic so we are including her above to show our whole family group. Aubs lucks out and gets in twice!

Tower of Terror

This is the "hot" new ride at Disneyland's California Adventures that all the kids want to go on. It's called the TOWER OF TERROR. As usual, Disney does not disappoint.

The descendants of old Walt have created a wonderful, sort of creepy, story around the 1920's Hollywood hotel, the Tower, long since gone from the scene. Basically, it's an "elevator" ride in total darkness with incredible sights and sounds from inside the old hotel. The "elevator" can also go forward and back in addition to up and down. Of course the narration keeps you wondering what's going to happen next.

After entering it on the ground floor, the "elevator" eventually lurches to the high point of the building, and the doors flash open for a second, giving you a panoramic view of the park and establishing the feeling that you are high up in the air. Then, just as suddenly, the doors close -- and you plunge downward very rapidly, only to be jerked to a stop and accelerated up again for another dose of "drops" in the dark.

It's a great ride and well worth the time. Disney, of course, is unsurpassed in creating a seemingly adequately long ride around 30-seconds of elevator ups and downs.

The Hollywood Effect

You just can't go to southern California without feeling its effects. On our recent family trek to Disneyland, our almost four-year-old granddaughter, Aubrey, succombed to the Hollywood look for an evening. You can't see it in the picture, snapped by her mom, but that plastic-looking "tube" around her neck is really a "light-ring" which pierces the night in a dizzying circle of multi-colored laser pulses. She was HOT!!