I played hooky last weekend. Well, I wasn’t exactly truant, but I did take a Sunday off if for no other reason than a breather before Lent comes rushing upon us.

On Sunday we cruised to Burlington, the city that sits on the west end of Racine County. We worshiped at the church I served from 1978 to 1984. It’s been awhile since we’ve been back, and there’s still a picture of me in the stairway landing halfway to the basement fellowship hall.

We ran into a few old friends. But for the most part, the faces and names were new. I was a relic from some earlier day in history. Many of the folks we remember have moved away. Some have died.

Their pastor told me they were seeking the financial help to put on a new roof. My initial thought was that we’d just built the place and it shouldn’t need a new roof. Then I recalled that I served that congregation during their initial building project over 25 years ago. Yes, roofs wear out in that time.

When we leave a place, our minds tend to make a snapshot for our memory banks. And when we go back to a place after many years, we dig out that snapshot and believe we will pick up where the picture left off. It doesn’t really work that way, does it.

Peace Lutheran made me who I am today. My years there gave me confidence and helped me recognize my strengths and my weaknesses. Susan and I arrived in Burlington as just the two of us and left as a half dozen.

It was nice to go check on "my baby" from so many years ago. She’s all grown up and faces the challenges and opportunities that come along with getting older. Time for a new roof? Seems like we just finished putting on the original.

Pastor B.

 

You never know what a brief meeting will lead to. Some time ago I met a woman by the name of Linda Warren. We met at a hymn sing. Turns out that she works for State Senator Russ Decker, majority leader in that chamber of the legislature. It also turns out that she is in charge of finding clergy to open the senate sessions with prayer.

A couple of months ago Linda e-mailed me. She recalled our meeting and asked if I would be willing to open the January 15 session of the senate. I jumped at the opportunity, as an honor and a privilege.

Then came the rules. Yes, because of our constitutional disestablishment clause, the prayer must be non-denominational. In other words, the prayer can reference God but not Jesus, Mary, Allah, or a few other theological terms.

Now some folks think this is a terrible thing. They want Christianity to rule politics. Of course, then we would have to decide whose brand of Christian understanding we would use. Way too complicated for me.

And let’s not forget the other rules. The prayer is supposed to be two to three minutes long. It should be devoid of any issue orientation. There may have been a couple others.

I don’t mind cleaning my prayers of denominational content. First, it requires me to put more thought into writing. I sometimes use the same words repeatedly, and the rule made me examine those phrases that have become familiar and unscrutinized over the years.

Secondly, prayers to God don’t need a wide open door. As light can find its way through the smallest crack, so can prayer. God listens. God promises to help.

I took my grandson Branden along with me. His second grade teacher said the experience would prove educational enough to make it worth missing most of a school day. When I finished (was it under three minutes?), Branden and I left to visit OSLC member Denise Croake over at the Supreme Court. The senate went about its business which included passing a new minimum wage and recognizing the UW-Whitewater football team that won the NCAA Division III Championship.

Over at the Supreme Court side Denise walked us through the hall where all the offices are. I told Branden that I was pretty sure this was not part of the regular tour and that he was fortunate to see where these important public servants worked. Branden, however, will remember that Chief Justice Shirley Abrahamsan has a stuffed piranha on her desk. I guess priorities are different when you’re seven years old.

Now life is back to normal. It was really an honor to stand before the thirty-three members of our state senate for two or three minutes. And it was an honor to open that door to God even if it was just a little.

Pastor B.

I can imagine that the folks who run the stadium up in Green Bay were planning to come to work on Monday and begin sealing up the historic monster for the winter. After all, lots of folks already had their plane tickets for Texas.

Oops! No one saw that coming.

Instead of letting the snow sit until God’s spring warmth removes it, the army of shovel bearers will need to return. The concession operators have hit the phones ordering up tons of brats and barrels of brew. The ticket takers and ushers who had planned a cozy January Sunday afternoon around a fire will dig out the longjohns, parkas, woolen socks, and warm mittens one more time.

Yep, there will be one more football game at Lambeau Field this season.

Personally, I’m pumped.

A little Berggren-Packer history. Until 1961 when the NFL expanded to Minnesota with coach Norm Van Broklin and an upstart quarterback named Fran Tarkenton, most folks in Minnesota backed the Pack. They were to closest professional football team for most of the state, and I grew up with my dad being a solid Packer Backer. I vividly recall watching Green Bay play the Baltimore Colts on a back-and-white television set. I don’t remember who was leading the Packers, but I know Johnny Unitas was behind center for the Colts and he was picking apart the Green and Gold with precision and ease. My dad would get so frustrated that he would jump out of his chair and turn the tv off. A little while later he would come and turn it on again (waiting two minutes for the tubes to warm up). The cycle repeated itself three or four times.

So, the Packers were planted deep in my sports soul a long time ago. When the expansion Vikings routed the old, establishment Bears in their very first game (37-13), I was hooked on the Norseman and became even more solidified as a fan during the Purple People Eaters days. (My hitchhiking brother once was picked up by Alan Page, didn’t recognize him, and at one point asked him if he was any good at football.)

So, with the Vikings all off golfing in Florida or Hawaii, I am a Packer fan. And, I’m excited to see them back at Lambeau. A field, I must admit, that has a lot more character than the Dome.

Pastor B.

As I write this blog, we are trapped in the second or third day of a heavy fog. Warm, moist air (very non-wintery) has settled upon December’s abundance of snow (very wintery) and the result is that we can now only see a few hundred feet at best. On Epiphany, a hundred cars or so piled up in various places along a stretch of the freeway just south of Madison, and two fatalities have been recorded so far.

I got to thinking, the most dangerous thing I ever do these days, how much life in general resembles driving in a fog. We set our destination. We turn on the headlights. We make plans and drive the plan. Yet, we do not know what is out there as we move forward in life.

In the last couple of years, it seems to me, more and more folks I know have hit something in the fog, and that something has been cancer. Certainly in my own family cancer has changed plans and outlook. I don’t think a week goes by that I don’t learn of a member or a relative of a member who has been cruising along in life and wham, there’s that ugly "C" word in the middle of the road.

Medically we have uncovered all kinds of ailments that we designate as cancer. Some are easily treatable. Some cannot be stopped. Unlike not too many years ago, cancer doesn’t have to mean that your life expectancy has come down to months. The therapies we use today give true hope and not just a last resort. In fact, many people keep going through their fog even after meeting up with cancer.

In these opening days of the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand Eight, I pray that while you drive through the fog, God will keep you safe and away from all things that may stop you in your tracks. And I pray that when out of the fog something ugly like cancer rises up top meet you, the Lord will give you confidence and hope. Remember, you are never alone. The Lord is with you.

Pastor B.