Tag: God’s peace

“Go With Full Throttle Up!”

by Steve Harsh, posted in Aging to Sageing, hope, mission, peacemaking, spiritual discipline

My mind is blown this week to be reminded that it has been 40 years since the Challenger space shuttle tragically exploded killing all seven people aboard. I was driving up US route 23 to a meeting at the Methodist Theological School in Delaware, Ohio when I heard the news on my car radio.  That was half a lifetime ago, but as a lifelong fan of space flight and exploration I remember it like yesterday.

 For the 40 years since I have cherished a very powerful and concrete image from that disaster of what it means to have faith and be at home in the universe. Part of being at peace is an ability to find meaning and truth in unexpected and even tragic circumstances. For me, the final words from Commander Dick Scobee before the explosion have become a mantra for me of peaceful living. About sixty seconds after blast off Mission Control informed the Challenger crew that they were going back to full power, and Commander Scobee’s confident reply was, “Roger, Go With Full Throttle Up.”


When we are at peace we dare to live life with full throttle up, knowing as those astronauts did that there are serious risks in living. We also know also that there are far more serious risks in refusing to face life’s challenges honestly and courageously. Chuck Yeager, a test pilot famous for his description of those early space pioneers who had “All the Right Stuff,” said after the Challenger explosion that “every astronaut and test pilot knows that such a tragedy can happen anytime you go up. But you can’t dwell on the danger or you would not be able to do your job.” Then he added, “There’s not much you can do about it anyway.”


Life is like that. We are all travelers on spaceship Earth, and like the Challenger 7, we are all sitting on enough firepower to blow us all to kingdom come several times over. That’s enough in itself to make us a little queasy isn’t it, even if we didn’t have to cope with the routine hassles of living—the doubts, the fears, the guilt, and the disappointments. But we all do have to cope with those things every day and much more these days.  And we all need a faith that will help us feel more at home and at peace in the midst of our hectic, frightening, and often chaotic lives.

And simple belief in long-held maxims is not enough for times of real testing.  Belief is holding certain ideas about something, or about life. Faith, on the other hand, is a more total and deeper response of inner peace and trust. For example, it is one thing to believe a parachute will open properly, to understand the physics of why and how parachutes work. But it is quite another thing to have enough faith or trust in a parachute to strap one on your back and jump out of a plane at 10,000 feet.


Faith, according to theologian Wilfred Cantwell Smith, is “a quality of human living. At its best it has taken the form of serenity and courage and loyalty and service: a quiet confidence and joy which enable one to feel at home in the universe, and to find meaning in the world and in one’s own life, a meaning that is profound and ultimate, and is stable no matter what may happen.”
To be at peace means to “feel at home in the universe,” to know as the “Desiderata” says, that “You are a child of the universe, no less than the rocks the trees and the stars, you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive God to be….and keep peace with your soul.” To be at peace at home in the universe is to be at peace with oneself and God.

I want to pick a bone with one phrase from that quote above.  I am certainly not convinced the universe is unfolding as it should.  Not one bit convinced, and that means it takes even more guts and faith just now to say, “Roger, go with full throttle up.”

That’s how I want to live my life, whatever the circumstances, full throttle up! I’m painfully aware that for my body’s full throttle is a whole lot slower than it was 40 years ago, or even 5 years ago; but my the Holy Spirit is still infinitely more powerful than that Saturn V rocket that launched so many astronauts into space. Full throttle doesn’t even get my old bones off the ground, but with God’s help my spirit can soar.

That’s what Jesus came to show us, that no matter what happens to us or around us, we have the power of the Holy Spirit to live life fully and abundantly. So wherever God calls us to go this week, my prayer is that we can respond with confidence and faith, and go with full throttle up!

Be Still and Know

by Steve Harsh, posted in Faith and Politics, Faith and Values, Faith Development, Sermon, spiritual discipline

I haven’t written anything yet in 2026 because I’ve been too depressed and angry about what’s going on in our country and world to muster enough energy to think, let alone write. I knew I am not alone in those feelings, but it felt strangely comforting when I read these words this morning from one of my heroines in the faith, Nadia Bolz-Weber. Nadia wrote, “I woke up wanting to write something that might be of help right now and I’m all tapped out. I got nothing.” She shared instead some modern Beatitudes she had written 10 years ago which were helpful and worth hearing again.

Fortunately for me I agreed weeks ago to preach this Sunday at a local retirement community, and that commitment forced me to wrestle with my faith and my doubts, and here’s what the Spirit has led me to prepare for that worship service.

When I told a friend I was preaching here at 3 pm he said, “Isn’t that nap time for old folks?”  If it is for you we’ll wake you when we’re done!  And then ironically shortly thereafter I saw an interesting article about something many of us remember from childhood.  How many of you remember pulling out your rug or blanket and lying down in kindergarten while soothing music played on the record player? 

The article is called “When We Taught Children How To Rest – And Then Forgot It Mattered.”  I don’t know the author,but he or she makes some important points I want to share with you. 

“For millions of children growing up in the 1950s, ’60s, and early ’70s, this ritual was as essential to kindergarten as finger paint and the alphabet. It wasn’t filler. It wasn’t babysitting.

It was the lesson. Stillness Was Once Part of the Curriculum

Educators believed something we’ve slowly forgotten: young children need quiet.

Not just sleep—but stillness.

A pause where feelings could settle. A space where overstimulated minds could wander safely.

The science agreed. Children’s brains and nervous systems were still under construction. Rest wasn’t a reward. It wasn’t optional. It was developmental maintenance.

Then We Decided to Hurry.  By the 1970s and ’80s, something shifted.

Kindergarten stopped being about socialization and curiosity and started being about readiness.

Pre-reading. Early math. Staying on track. Getting ahead.

Schedules tightened. Testing crept younger. Parents worried about falling behind before childhood had even properly begun.  Naptime began to feel inefficient.  Unproductive.

A luxury we could no longer afford.

And we act surprised when childhood anxiety soars.  Naptime wasn’t just about sleep. It taught us that rest has value, that quiet has purpose, that you don’t have to be productive every minute to be worthy……  We once dimmed the lights, put on a record, and gave twenty small people permission to just be.  Maybe it’s time we remembered how.”

A few weeks ago when we had that lovely warm October God reminded me of that wisdom.  After worship I spent some time praying in the beautiful outdoor chapel that we have at Northwest UMC, and the words that came to me were “Be still and know that I am God.” I have meditated on those words many times in the days and weeks since, seeking the balm they offer in the chaotic world we inhabit just now.

I am embarrassed to admit that I didn’t remember where those words come from in Scripture until I googled them. They are of course in verse 10 of the Psalm we just read, and the opening verses set the scene powerfully for having faith to be still when life is literally crumbling around us.

The psalm begins with these words:

“1 God is our refuge and strength,
    a very present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change,
    though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea,”

Scholars believe those words were written as the armies of Assyria were besieging the city of Jerusalem in 701 BCE.  Many of us can relate today.  We feel under siege from bodies that are feeling the slings and arrows of the aging process.  Or that the very values we thought our country was founded on are under attack, and we feel helpless to do anything about it.

How can we not wonder if God really is our help and refuge? Where is God’s help in this all too real time of trouble?  As I typed those words originally for a blog I write, and I’m not making this up, a notification popped up on the top of my iPad screen that said “Don’t Stop Believein’!” “Don’t Stop Believin’!”  I literally looked around to see if Big Brother or someone was reading over my shoulder!  It was spooky, but even more real than the message I heard that day in the chapel that said to be still and know I’m God.

As it turns out that message was a notification on my iPad advertising that the rock band Journey who sing “Don’t Stop Believin’” is coming to do a concert in Columbus next summer, but the timing of that message seemed way too relevant to be just a coincidence.

And that is what the psalmist is saying to the besieged, hopeless folks in Jerusalem surrounded by the mighty armies of King Sennacherib of Assyria.  Don’t stop believing!

God says, be still and know I am God, which implies the rest of that sentence – I’m God and you’re not.  So trust me.  I got you out of Egypt and through the wilderness, and I’ll get you out of this mess too.  But like us the people of Israel don’t always get it.  In my imagination I can picture God, like any frustrated parent, wanting to say, “Shut up and Listen!”

Every age has its moments of siege.  “A Mighty Fortress” that we sang earlier was written based on this Psalm by Martin Luther in about 1527-29 when he was under terrible persecution from the Roman Catholic Church and the Holy Roman Empire.

After Luther refused to retract his writings, Pope Leo X issued a papal bull excommunicating him in 1521. 

Luther was summoned before the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V and the imperial assembly, where he famously refused to recant his views, leading to his condemnation. 

The Edict of Worms (also in 1521)declared Luther an outlaw, banned his writings, and made it a crime to harbor him, with punishment for heresy being burning at the stake. 

To protect him, Prince Frederick the Wise of Saxony arranged for Luther to be “kidnapped” and taken to Wartburg Castle for his safety, where he translated the New Testament into German.

Even as Luther was protected, his supporters faced severe repercussions, including loss of jobs, imprisonment, and execution, as persecution against Lutherans intensified across the Holy Roman Empire. And through all of this people sang “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” which became known as the Battle Hymn of the Reformation.

The most powerful words in that hymn for me are, “The body they may kill, God’s truth abideth still.”  That was true in 1528; it’s true today; and it will never change.  That is what it means to be still and know that God is God.  God’s in charge and will prevail in God’s good time – not ours.  And because of that we can still pull out our blankets,   put on some soothing music and sleep in the heavenly peace of innocent five-year-olds. 

Benediction:

Because of God’s ultimate rule of the whole universe, no matter how bad things seem at this or any moment, personal or in history, we can“Be still, and know that I am God!    I am exalted among the nations;    I am exalted in the earth.” The Lord of hosts is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our refuge.”  Today, tomorrow, and Forever.  Amen

All Saints Prayer 2025

by Steve Harsh, posted in Aging to Sageing, Christian Discipleship, Faith Development, Gratitude, hope, prayer, spiritual discipline

As we prepare our hearts for prayer on this All Saints Sunday I want to share some words for our meditation from Linda Hogan in her book “Dwellings.” She says,

“Walking, I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.”


O Holy One, God of the present age, of every generation that has enabled our being here today, and of all the multitudes who will follow in our footsteps if we find a way to a sustainable future for the creation we are a part of.

We know All Saints Day may sound pretentious because none of us are truly saintly.
We are all a weird mixture of sinner and saint striving to be more the latter as followers of Jesus and good stewards of your creation. We want to be builders of a peaceable kingdom, a beloved community, honest we do.

But you know that our fears and anxieties too often lead us to foolishly put our trust in stuff that promises security but only creates higher walls of tribal suspicion and prejudice. Bigger bombs and battleships only motivate others to make more weapons that steal resources from hungry children.

As we ponder the mysteries of how our ancestors made sense of their lives help us lovingly forgive their mistakes even as we learn from their collective wisdom.  We are grateful that we don’t have to reinvent every wheel because we are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses who bless us with their presence. We are never alone, although at times it sure feels like it.

Among those saints are those whose names we all know – Moses, Ruth, Micah, Theresa, Amos, Francis, Jesus and Paul – but those famous ones are totally outnumbered by the ordinary Joes and Judys who quietly have preserved the faith through disasters, depressions, pandemics, and ages of apathy.


Today we remember those dear ones who have passed through the thin veil that divides our reality from eternal peace and truth. We give thanks for those who dwell now in your very heart, O God. We envy their peace and unity with you, even as we humbly give thanks for their love that has produced this community of faith that nurtures us still today.


We are indebted to their example of service. We are inspired by their faith that overcame the doubts and despair that are part of the human condition. Like them we journey ever on toward the cross of Christ and the example he gives us as we join our voices with all the saints in the prayer Jesus taught us to pray ….

Northwest United Methodist Church, Columbus, Ohio, November 2, 2025

Peacemakers or Warriors?

by Steve Harsh, posted in Faith and Politics, Faith and Values, peacemaking, spiritual discipline

If I could address a room full of top U.S. generals and admirals it wouldn’t take me two hours to remind them of where the ultimate allegiance of people of faith should lie. Even back in the more militaristic Hebrew Scriptures some prophets knew. Psalm 20:7 says, “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God”. Those are not the empty and dangerous words of a “warrior” culture, and I’m pretty sure most of the men in those days were “beardos.”

And speaking of bearded men, how about one Jesus of Nazareth who says among other things in his short and succinct Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7), “Blessed are the Peacemakers,” “Love your enemies,” and “Turn the other cheek.” He came not as one whose calling was to “kill and break things” but as the Prince of Peace.

And then to conclude, rather than a challenge to either serve the warrior culture or abandon decades of hard work, experience, and service, I would offer these words from Joshua at a critical decision point in the history of Israel: “Now if you are unwilling to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served in the region beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living, but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.” (Joshua 24:15)

Eternal Love: A Journey Through Lent

by Steve Harsh, posted in Aging to Sageing, Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values, Lenten devotion

I was not in the mood for Lent this year. With everything going on in the world and my own ever-nearing 80th birthday in just 19 months the last thing I wanted to hear was “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” I already felt lost in the wilderness and didn’t think I needed to add any more of lostness to my weary soul.

But even good habits die hard and this annual tradition kept nagging at me; so my wife and I decided to attend our church’s Ash Wednesday service on line, and I’m very glad we did. On-line worship is not usually the best way to worship for me, but I am grateful for that option when I need it. The service at Northwest UMC on Ash Wednesday was an exception to the rule for both Diana and me. It was a very well done service that was contemplative, and being at our kitchen table with only candle light to illumine the room was ideal for that particular kind of worship.

Our church had provided packets for the service that included ashes and a small piece of clay. At one point in the service, after hearing the traditional Scriptures for Ash Wednesday read, we were asked to take the clay and form it into something symbolic that would have meaning for us during the 40 day journey of Lent.

We were give time to pray about that assignment while soft guitar music played. Thanks to the wisdom of several authors I’ve been reading in the chaotic days since January 20 (Richard Rohr, Kate Bowler, Diana Butler Bass, Nadia Bolz-Weber, Brian McLaren, and Sarah Bessey) my mind was led to think about the one constant and trustworthy thing in any time of crisis, namely God’s eternal love.

So I formed my clay into the symbol for infinity which always looks like an 8 lying down to me. Then as I had time to ponder that a little longer it came to me that what I was thinking and feeling was not just a mysterious concept of never-ending infinity or even in Buzz Lightyear’s famous quote “To infinity and Beyond.”

What I was trying to capture in clay was something quite tangible and real – Love. I’ve felt that love more powerfully than ever before through my family and friends who rallied around me during my health crises in the last 8 months. I discovered that my village is a lot bigger and deeper than I realized before. The ministry of presence took on a more beautiful meaning for me in the physical and spiritual companionship that surrounded me and got me through a wilderness journey of my own.

So I decided to shape one end of my clay infinity symbol into a heart (pictured above), and it is still sitting on the kitchen table to remind me several times a day that St. Paul got it right in I Corinthians 13:7-10 when he wrote: ” Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part, but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end.”

That worship experience was a much needed reminder for me of that eternal love which is the constant, solid ground under our feet even when the foundations of everything we thought we could trust are shaking like an earthquake, to borrow a phrase from the great theologian Paul Tillich. The Ash Wednesday service I didn’t think I wanted helped me to surrender a lot of the anger and frustration I’ve been dealing with about our current political crisis, and I am very grateful.

Today I put that picture of my clay symbol on my watch and phone as wallpaper to be an even more frequent reminder for me the power of eternal love.

A funny thing happened after that Ash Wednesday service. When my wife Diana looked at my art work she said, “I like your fish.” After I explained to her what I intended my symbol to be I realized that the fish is also a great symbol for eternal love. I was also reminded that art is also mysterious and can mean different things to different people at different times.

The fish symbol has been a Christian symbol for 2000 years because the early Christians used it as a secret code to identify themselves as Jesus followers to one another in a way that they hoped would not be recognized by their Roman persecutors. The origin of the symbol came from the Greek word for fish, Ichthus. It was and still is used because the letters of the word ichthus are the first letters of the Greek phrase “Iēsous Christos theou hy ios sōtēr”, which translates to “Jesus Christ Son of God Savior”. 

So whether I see a fish or an infinity symbol when I see this piece of clay doesn’t matter. They both speak to me of God’s eternal love that will sustain me through these 40 days of Lent and through whatever the future holds until I return to dust and beyond. I hope it might do the same for you.

Contentment in Any Role

by Steve Harsh, posted in Aging to Sageing, Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values, Gratitude, purpose

“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts…”

Those lines from Shakespeare’s “Mid Summer Night’s Dream” have been floating around in my head for quite some time. But I did not remember until I looked up the quote that it is the beginning of a monologue about the stages of life from infancy to death.

Being 78 and a cancer patient I have spent more time than I like thinking about my mortality, and that whole monologue that describes 7 stages of life fits right into that conversation in my head.

The questions I want to ask about that metaphor are two: What do you do or how do you cope when you don’t get the part you really want? And what about the times you get stuck with a part in the play of life that you really don’t want?

I’m guessing we’ve all been in both of those situations. When I was a sophomore in college a young woman I had been in a serious relationship for almost two years informed me I was no longer needed in the play of her life. She had a good reason, and I appreciated her sharing it with me. I was still devastated, but she helped me understand the break up wasn’t just about me personally; but about a career path I had chosen that she wanted no part of.

Earlier that year I had decided to switch majors from engineering to philosophy in preparation for going on to seminary after college. In other words I had opted for a very different part in a totally different play, and she did not want to play the role of a pastor’s wife. There are very good reasons to say no to what can be a very challenging unpaid, high expectations job, and I understand that better now than I did way back then. I also understand that I undoubtedly made the situation worse by making that important career decision without ever discussing it with her. Yes, I was still working from an old script where wives are subservient to their husbands.

The second half of the 20th century was a confusing time to be playing a romantic role. The old scripts of how men and women related were being thrown out, and new ones were still being written. Societal norms about sex, race, war, and peace were all in a state of flux. Life was like improv theater – we were all making it up on the fly.

That flux had major impact on the job market as well. We didn’t call it DEI back then, but in liberal circles where I played my roles as student and pastor and teacher the civil rights and women’s rights movements spurred efforts to increase diversity in the workplace and on faculties. As a white male that was a personal disadvantage to me. I had my heart set on a particular professorship when I finished my doctoral work and thought I had a good shot at it. I had been teaching at this school as an adjunct professor for two years, and my student evaluations were excellent.

Little did I know that the position had already been promised to a black woman who had taught there before me as an adjunct and left to do her PhD. I was disappointed, especially since I had turned down a role as a pastor at a church I had always admired earlier that year. Sometimes we don’t get to play the part we want or even be in that particular play, but in this case I did understand and agreed with the school’s priority on building a more diverse faculty. When I had been a student there 20 years earlier the entire faculty and administration was white and male, and the student body was 98% the same.

But to circle back to Shakespeare’s take on the stages of life as the roles we play from birth to death, I find his list rather limiting. He spends little time on the variety of parts we might play in adulthood, and I realize that life expectancy back then was much shorter than it is today. With advances in health care a productive adult life can last 50 or 60 years and may include several different careers, sometimes simultaneously.

I was a pastor, a teacher, and a university administrator in a period of 38 years of full time employment, and then spent 11 years in retirement doing all of those things on a part-time basis. But concurrent with those roles I was also a son, husband, father, brother, author, golfer, skier, softball player tennis player, runner, and friend.

But here’s my existential question for this stage I am acting on just now. In the last 8 months I have played parts I didn’t want, namely icu patient, cancer patient, and one dealing with a whole host of other old age maladies. What do we do when life throws us a curve and we find ourselves playing parts in our life drama that we never auditioned for? As I told my son a few months ago — I liked the roles I played in my 40’s and 50’s a whole lot better than this role as a senior citizen.

I can’t think about this dilemma without remembering St. Paul who had some affliction he calls “a thorn in the flesh.” We don’t know what the thorn was, but here is what Paul says about it: “Therefore, to keep me from being too elated, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” (II Corinthians 12:7-9)

I don’t know about you, but if I were in Paul’s situation I wouldn’t be too thrilled with that answer. But God’s ways are not our ways, and being a man of great faith Paul was able to make peace with that thorn. He writes in Philippians 4:11, “I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content.” I’m not there yet with the parts I am playing in this stage of my life.

I am not content with my chronic pain. I am not content giving up most of the activities I used to enjoy. I am not content watching the country I love being destroyed by wanna be dictators and oligarchs. I am very uncontent to watch God’s beautiful creation on earth being destroyed by corporate greed that values short term profits over long term preservation of the planet.

Given all those things that disturb my contentment and peace which are important I have to realize that the stress they create in me are not healthy and in fact make me less able to respond to any of them. In spite of all the problems in our nation and the world there is still great beauty and kindness if I shift my attention to observe them and express gratitude for them. And that’s the point of Paul’s wise words just before the ones about being content. And therein lies the secret to his peace and contentment.

Here is what he says: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. As for the things that you have learned and received and heard and noticed in me, do them, and the God of peace will be with you.” (Philippians 4:8-9)

That’s a pretty good script to play from at any age and on any stage. Break a leg.

Advent 2024 Second Sunday, Peace

by Steve Harsh, posted in Advent, spiritual discipline

Jesus said we are the light of the world, and to not hide that light under a basket.  On this second Sunday of Advent we celebrate the light of Christ, of which we are a mere reflection.  Oh, there is plenty of darkness around us: wars in Gaza, Syria, Ukraine; violence on our streets, in South Korea, and on football fields nationwide.  My little light won’t make a dent in the darkness, and neither will yours; but if we all light our own candle and combine them we will be able to see our way.

Jesus also called us to be peacemakers, active participants in building a home for the Holy One, and for creating God’s reign on earth where all of God’s children can sleep in heavenly peace. Let us build a home for the Holy where AK-47’s are transformed into farm tools and bayonets into pruning shears.  

Our Advent candle of peace is a beacon of light to show the way home to weary travelers who stumble in the darkness.  And so today we once again light our Advent candle of peace, even though we may be feeling fearful of the darkness.  

Please pray with me:

O Holy God, you spoke light into darkness on the very first day of creation, and no amount of human folly and sin has ever overcome that light.  Renew our faith this Advent season.  Remind us that we are children of your eternal light.  And when we grow fearful or discouraged, let us remember these words from poet Amanda Gorman: “When day comes, we step out of the shade, aflame and unafraid. The new dawn blooms as we free it. For there is always light if only we’re brave enough to see it, if only we’re brave enough to be it.” Give us courage to be the light, we pray. Amen

Try this in a small town

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Faith Development

“When he (Jesus) came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him.” (Luke 4:16-17)

All the discussion of country singer Jason Aldean ’s song, “Try That in a Small Town” reminded me of Jesus’ return to preach in the small town where he grew up. I flunked my first sermon in seminary preaching class, but Jesus got a much harsher response to his first message that day in Nazareth. Luke tells us Jesus read from the prophet Isaiah, and that part of his Sabbath was very well received. Verse 11 says, “All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.”

But then Jesus goes ahead and interprets the text and tells his audience that the good news he brings to the captives, the blind and the oppressed is not just for them but for all of God’s children with examples of how the prophets Elijah and Elisha went specifically to minister to gentiles in Sidon and Syria instead of to those in Israel. And just like that the crowd does a 180 and turns on him. “When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage.” (Verse 28). And where the Gospels of Mark and Matthew just have Jesus leaving town at that point, Luke adds these words: “They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.” (Vss. 29-30)

I did a lot of research in graduate school on such negative reaction to public speaking and wrote a paper I titled “They Shoot Prophets Don’t They?” I had a personal interest in that topic having come of age in the last turbulence in American history which saw the assassinations of the two Kennedy brothers and Dr. King, all within a five year period. In my research, I became impressed with the work of Lawrence Kohlberg on moral development and the role of cognitive dissonance in persuasive communication. To my great pleasure that very research was mentioned by one of my favorite author’s, Father Richard Rohr, in his book, “Everything Belongs,” which I just happened to be listening to on the very day I started thinking about this topic again. I am humbled and thrilled that Fr. Rohr’s use of Kohlberg’s theory of moral development is almost verbatim what I wrote about that research in my Ph.D. dissertation 40 years ago. The application of Kohlberg’s theories about how to effectively communicate with people who have very different moral and ethical values formed the heart of my own theory of preaching which I shared with seminary students in preaching classes over a 20 year period from 1991-2012.

I believe that theory can help us understand and bridge some of the vast divide we are experiencing in our country today. The country song controversy is very illustrative of how volatile and dangerous that divide is and has been throughout American history. I grew up in a small town and can identify with the good, bad, and ugly aspects of what that experience was and still is like. There were many positive aspects to spending the first 20 years of my life in Wapakoneta, Ohio, a small, county-seat town in very rural, very white, and very conservative northwestern Ohio. It was a very safe place where kids were free to roam all over town on our bikes. Everyone knew everyone else; so people looked out for each other’s kids. I am grateful for that age of innocence and the freedom it provided for me to enjoy a carefree childhood and adolescence.

But I am also angry about the flip side of that experience. We didn’t know what we didn’t know about the broader world outside our comfort zone. Our fathers and uncles who were survivors of the Great Depression and/or veterans of World War II certainly knew more than they shared with us about issues of race and political divisions, at least in my family. All I remember being told about why there were no people of color in our town is that “we aren’t prejudiced; those people just don’t choose to live here.” It turns out there was good reason for that. I learned many years later that one of my great uncles was a leader in the local chapter of the KKK, and just this week heard from a high school classmate that for some time there was a sign outside our town that said something to the effect “Get Your Black Ass Out of Town Before Dark.” That’s the ugly kind of small town life Aldean certainly alludes to in his song and accompanying video.

One major factor in the political chasm threatening our democracy is the rural-urban divide Aldean sings about. The life experience of small town and rural people in this country is so different from urban life that it is like living in two different countries. I addressed some of that in my post on July 18, “Culture War Games While the Planet Burns,” but I want to focus here on how to approach that reality in a constructive way. In an oversimplified description, Kohlberg’s theory of moral development I mentioned above is that there are 6 stages of moral development numbered 1-6. Stage 1 is a very self-centered stage we all start out in because that kind of selfishness is necessary for infants to survive. People in stage 1 say what is morally good is whatever is good for me. Stage 6 is the other extreme where morality is defined in a universal way to mean that moral goodness is determined by what is good for everyone and for the whole world/universe. Only people like Jesus, Mohammad, Gandhi, Mother Teresa, and Dr. King ever come close to stage 6.

Most people, and this is just fact, not judgment, never grow beyond a stage 3 or 4 in moral development, and that’s the problem prophets like Jesus have in small towns like Nazareth. Kohlberg’s research found that when there is a gap of 2 stages or greater in moral development between a speaker and an audience there is a major breakdown in communication. That gap creates so much cognitive dissonance, which is the perception of contradictory information and the mental stress it causes, that we consistency-loving humans will do whatever we can to reduce that stress. That often means simply ignoring the one causing the cognitive dissonance or, as the gap widens, arguing, disparaging or insulting the speaker, and ultimately, if the gap is too great either driving the speaker out of town as happens to Jesus, or in the most tragic situations actually killing him or her, which again finally happens to Jesus on the cross.

The major lesson for us Americans right now is to turn down the heat in our political discourse by bridging the gaps in our cultural, moral, worldviews. Kohlberg concludes that we cannot communicate with each other until the gap between us is one stage of moral development or less. In other words a speaker who is a stage 4 trying to communicate with a stage 2 or 3 person must meet that person where he or she is and communicate respectfully with that person in ways that are not threatening to them. We must find common ground to stand on before we can hope to understand one another. For example, all humans have a basic need for what Abraham Maslow calls psychological and physical security and safety. People in small towns and big cities all share that need, and to understand that we all express that need in different ways goes a long way toward bridging our differences on other values and beliefs. And when our feeling of safety is threatened by people who look, act, and think differently than we do, we need to resist the temptation to attack, blame, ridicule, or judge them. The Golden Rule to treat others as we want to be treated is always a good first step in building a bridge or tearing down a wall that separates us from others.

Unfortunately it seems our human instinct is to do just the opposite when confronted with the discomfort of cognitive dissonance. Social media is full of memes these days making fun of small town people and calling each other names instead of trying to understand where others are coming from. We live in very scary times and most of us don’t know how to express that fear. To do so makes us feel vulnerable and cowardly. It’s much easier and more fun to attack those we disagree with, but it only turns up the heat and the fear on both sides.

I had a very simple example of a change of just one word making a huge difference just last week. I try to avoid debates on social media because they are often unproductive and can seem endless in their back and forth nature. I expressed that reluctance to a friend that I felt a need to respond to by saying that I hate “arguing.” Her very helpful response to me was, “This is not an argument, it’s a discussion.” That one shift in perspective moved the conversation from a win-lose situation to a productive exploration of where we could find common ground.

We need more discussion and less arguing, more willingness to meet others where they are in a spirit of understanding. From there we can both learn and grow from each other and help each other move to a higher stage of moral development where we all strive to do what is best for everyone. The alternative is to end up like “The two cats of Kilkenny. Each thought there was one cat too many. So they fought and they fit; they clawed and they bit, until except for their nails and the tips of their tails, instead of two cats there weren’t any.”

Pastoral Prayer

by Steve Harsh, posted in prayer, purpose

Oh dear gracious God, you know every thought we have, both good and bad.  You know the number of every hair on our heads, and every joy and sorrow of our hearts.  There is no need for us to recite the litany of all that’s wrong in our world or in our lives.  We know your big, loving heart must be breaking when you witness what humankind is doing to each other and to mother earth.  So in this sacred moment help us repent of our own complicity in the materialism of our time.  No matter how small or large our worship of the things of this world may be, we ask your forgiveness for all the times we  pursue the idols of stuff  that promise happiness but leave us hungering and thirsting for more.

Holy One, you know that Amazon Prime days and Power Ball billions will not satisfy the desire of our souls for the peace that passes human understanding.  The Barbie movie, or a front row seat at a Super Bowl, or a Taylor Swift concert may be joyful experiences, but they are temporary, not the eternal peace that comes when we accept your invitation to share in the joy of your reign.  That invitation comes with no price tag, but is a gift of grace, freely given.  And yet it is so precious that it is worth giving up all that we are and all that we have.

We want to accept your gracious gift of eternal life, O God.  We want it more than anything, but letting go of what we can see and touch for a spiritual kingdom that is unlike anything we have ever experienced is really hard.  We want to trust you, God, we really do, but surrendering control of our lives to you requires a leap of faith that is scary.  Remind us again today, dear Lord, of that great cloud of witnesses who have walked this way before us.  Show us again we are not alone in this search for peace in the midst of the madness of a world marching to the loud beat of a drum that leads not toward your kingdom but in the opposite direction. As we ponder and pray for the childlike trust to take the hand of Jesus who is the way to eternal life, we offer heartfelt thanks for those kingdom people among us who live and breathe your Holy Spirit into those around them.  They are Christ among us, and we renew our own commitment to be more like them and offer again a resounding “yes” to Jesus’ invitation to follow him. Amen

-Northwest United Methodist Church, July 23, 2023

Put Out Into the Deep – or Shallow

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, self-care, Wellness

Because of multiple life contingencies I have gotten out of the habit of swimming for exercise in recent months. After two years of very faithfully swimming 2 or 3 times per week travel, injury, spring yard work, and other forms of exercise have usurped the time previously devoted to time in the pool. I had forgotten that swimming is more than just physical exercise for me. It is also a form of meditation and solitude that other forms of exercise do not readily offer. So as I have begun to swim again in the last two weeks I have been reminded of those other benefits of time in the water. I had two radically different but essentially similar experiences in my swimming last week and this.

Thanks to Silver Sneakers (a wonderful insurance benefit for seniors) I have memberships at both our local YMCA’s and a private gym with a small pool. Last week I swam at the private gym and literally had the 4-lap pool entirely to myself for the 20 minutes I was there. It was as peaceful and quiet as any place I can imagine. By contrast this week I went to one of our Central Ohio YMCA’s and almost left without swimming. The cool weather we are having this week meant that the outdoor pool at the Y was closed and consequently the shallow end of the indoor pool was filled with a gaggle of elementary age kiddos making a joyful noise to the Lord or to someone!!

Being a devout introvert I was at first put off by all the noise. As I hesitantly walked into the pool area to see if there was even a lap lane available one of the life guards said to me, “Welcome to the party!” He also pointed me to an open lane which was of course right next to the semi-organized chaos in the shallows where brave high school-aged counselors were riding heard on the younger kids. The guard said I might get a stray beach ball in my lane but otherwise said it was all mine.

These two diametrically opposed scenarios turned out to be essentially the same however once I put on my snorkel and began swimming my laps. With my head submerged in the water I was totally alone in silence, repeating the mantras I use to turn my swimming time into one that is also meditation.

Finding time and space for solitude is increasingly difficult in our extroverted and fast-paced, multi-tasking culture. It requires a great deal of discipline to carve out such time and space in most of modern life, but nothing I have found works as well for me as donning a snorkel and submerging myself in the amniotic, baptismal water of a pool or pond. It doesn’t require deep sea diving experience or equipment. My head is never more than a few inches below the surface of the water, but those few inches filter out all the external distractions. And if I can also quiet the inner noise of my worrisome mind I am as close to a mystical peace as I have ever been.

It reminds me of Luke 5:4 where the disciples have been out fishing all night and have nothing to show for their labor. Jesus tells them to “put out into the deep and let down their nets.” Peter argues that they have been there and done that, but if you say so we’ll try again. It’s like Peter is humoring this carpenter. It makes no logical sense, just like swimming a few inches below the water should not silence all the noisy children just a few feet away. But it works. The disciples’ nets are filled to the breaking point because they obeyed, and my initial resistance to the chaos in the pool was transformed by the lifeguard’s positive attitude to reframe the child-like exuberance into an invitation to a party.

Your quiet place may be someplace entirely different than mine, but we all need one where we can “put out into the deep” of the mystery of existence.