It was the fall of 1993 when I sat on a friend's sofa and knew in my heart that God had called me to a certain job in a certain place to do something important.

And I needed to experience that, because the job I was being called to would be fraught with difficulties, challenges, and complexities that would seriously test my decision.

You might call that moment on the couch a mountaintop experience, a time in which I felt particularly close to to God and how God was directing me.

Can you name a time in your life in which you felt the same thing? Tuned in to the transcendent, particularly close to the one whose voice echoes most deepest in your soul?

We call it a mountaintop experience because we see something similar in Sunday's gospel, when Jesus and his closest disciples ascend a mountain and Jesus is transfigured, his face changed, his clothes a dazzling white, and he finds himself in conversation with Moses and Elijah, before the audible voice of God speaks from the heavens.

God gives us the these moments of affirmation, because God knows there will be moments of doubt.

God gives us these moments of unforgettable bliss because God knows there will be moments of unendurable pain.

God gives us these moments of clarity and insight because God knows there will be moments of confusion and occlusion.

Mountain top experiences are as rare as they are impactful. 

That's why it's so important for you and me to remember; remember that we do not go through this drama alone, that the world is made up of much more than the things we can see, feel, and touch. 

That there is more going on than we will ever know.

 That there are saints conspiring on our behalf, loved ones in a different realm plotting our advance, unseen allies who work day and night for our goodness and wholeness.

So friends let us remember our transfigurations - our mountain top experiences - they are reminders that God is near - and that the darkness in the valley that can surround us - will not last. 

This week children across America are getting little Valentines ready for their fellow students. 

It's a bit of a hassle at my house because one of my children doesn't want to write Valentines to all 21 fellow students and says "Dad I only want to give out a half dozen Valentines, to the people I play with and really like."

My child speaks for us all when we, in our own ways, favor the people we like, who are like us, and whom we want to impress. We too want to pay less attention to those with whom we have little in common, we don't particularly like, and maybe even find a little bit weird.

I remember hearing a bit of parenting advice from a Christian leader who asked his school-aged kids to do just two things: 1) to always stand up to bullies, and 2) to always make friends with those who have few or no friends.

When we think about it, we suspect that’s what God does. We suspect God looks out for those whom others overlook.  And when we're asked to be like God, that means we do the same thing.

This is at the heart of the message of the beatitudes we will hear on Sunday.  

Jesus will call the the hungry, the mourning, and the unpopular “blessed," and he will warn those who know only what it's like to be rich, well-fed, and popular, that their eyes need to be opened to the suffering of the world and to their responsibility to help alleviate it.

In other words blessed are those who participate in the brokenness of the world and woe to those who ignore it.

Like everyone, I struggle in the morning when I wake up - to either enjoy the beauty of this amazing world, or to buckle down and get to work fixing it. It's a delicate balance. And I think we know from experience that our default setting is the former - we favor the easy road: of comfort, security, and safety - over uncomfortably putting ourselves out there, giving of ourselves for the benefit of others - and truly participating in the healing of the world.

Friends, what does it mean for you and me to look a bit more at the poor, the hungry, the mourning, and those in genuine need?

How is God calling us to give of our abundance - to those who have less?

It may be something as little as sending a Valentine. 

A friend of mine survived another round of job cuts at General Motors.

After the early retirements and thinning out of half his department, what relief when the angel of death skipped over his cube… 

While I was certainly happy for him - I had to confess I wasn’t surprised.

When hiring people, two qualifications many employers look for are punctuality and attitude: can the employee get there on time, and are they genuinely positive about the work?

My friend has both, but especially the second - he loves his job, drops everything to take on new projects, rarely complains, and is an exemplary team player. His job connects with his gift and enjoyment of problem-solving. 

Sure, he does it for the paycheck, but also because engineering is deeply satisfying.

Howard Thurman famously wrote, “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

On Sunday, we’ll hear a fascinating story of Jesus calling his first disciples. 

We know Peter, James, and John were not singularly learned nor accomplished theologians.

However, it seems they were in touch with what made them come alive: the story says they dropped everything, career and family, to follow.

It makes us consider that our greatest satisfaction comes when we, too, are taken with the pursuit of that which makes us most fully alive.

Perhaps, then, our most profound human task is to discover, hone, and share that which most deeply enlivens us.

After all, the one thing, the only thing, that you and nobody else can do, is to identify, shape, and share that one thing that only we have been given - that most enlivens us.

Own it. Hone it. And loan it - with no expectation of return - freely we were given, freely we give.

Lord, help us drop the nets. Look inside and follow. What the world needs is people who have come alive. 

I got mad at my children the other day.

They didn’t listen, were dawdling, and were mildly disobedient. So I raised my voice and told them things for which I later had to apologize.

It took me longer to simmer down - become peaceful - and begin to unpack why I chose to express my anger the way I did.

After all, anger is a valid and helpful emotion. It stems from passion for the things most dear to us, the things we work hardest to protect, safeguard, and nurture.

As the poet David Whyte says, anger is the purest form of care.

But when we get angry we are often unwilling and unable to plumb the depths of what’s really going on: I become blind to the significance of the work for which I am working. And I bristle at tempering my reactions, which are expressions of a love unable to yield to a wider more expansive definition, one I’m unwilling or unable to accept. And so I give anger a harmful voice.

We learn more from a scenario in this Sunday’s Gospel, when Jesus tells long-time friends that the God they hold in highest esteem, doesn’t favor them as much as they suspect. 

They flew into a rage, mobbed him, and nearly killed him.

We understand. We too often fail to realize that God’s equitable love for all people is actually something to be embraced and celebrated - and not exclusively claimed, denigrated or riddled with fault.

Like us, Jesus’ opponents fail to realize that most expressions of anger are actually displays of frustration with our unwillingness or inability to accept a wider reality, a more expansive definition of love - one that brings its own threats and fears.

We do well to understand the teachings of our anger - it shows us what we love most deeply, most yearn to protect, and most covet: we simply don’t get angry over things we don’t care about.

It is in this contemplation that the foundation stones for new ways to express our deep yearnings can find bedrock, that we might live more authentically into our anger not as deprivation and insufficiency, but as profound care for another whose well-being we care more about than our own. 

"Honey, should I wear the black one or the grey one?"

I was asking about turtlenecks as we prepared for dinner with friends one night.

I suppose in some small way I was letting my wife define me as I took her advice (grey, always grey), for we humans are communal by nature and rely on the opinions of others to form our self-esteem, self-worth, and self-confidence.

But the way we allow others to define us is analogous to the ways we worry and fear: none of these are bad in themselves, we just participate in them way too often.

As Christians, we work to make God the biggest influencer, the biggest definer, of who we are, for we know that the wider culture often offers influences that are antithetical to the way of the Gospel.

in this season of Epiphany, Sunday's gospel brings a revelation. We hear of Jesus entering a synagogue, reading scripture, and claiming the declaration it makes about who he is and what he has been called to do.

Would that I could accept as readily and claim as confidently the identity scripture gives to me!

Time and again the Bible tells me I am provided for, I am forgiven, I am purposed, and I am destined for a greatness in God's plan that only I can fulfill.

Too often I look at challenges as road blocks to my happiness, and not stepping stones to a more aware and alive existence.

Too often I choose the saccharine soft drink of familiarity and routine to the Red Bull of risk and chanced failure.

Who's defining me and why do I let them do so?

Lord, be my mirror and give me ears to hear only you. 

I recently left a movie theater scratching my head.

For two hours I’d watched the long, meandering film hoping to find some sense of continuity, consistency, or meaning. But couldn’t. When the closing credits rolled I could only think of how it didn’t end as much as it had just stopped. Frustrated, I suspect I was in the minority because the movie had been critically acclaimed.

The point is that there are stories in search of meanings - and there are meanings in search of stories.

There are stories that either hide their meaning or have none, and there are meanings that are so profound, so desperately important - that any story fails to do it justice.

This is what’s happening in one of the most fabulous stories in the Bible, which we’ll hear this weekend, the wine-making miracle at the wedding in Cana.

We know what happens, Jesus, his mom, and friends are invited to a wedding where the wine runs out. Nearby are some pots of water, which Jesus turns to wine.

We discover more in the exaggerated details: Jesus makes 780 bottles of wine - enough for 3,000 guests - and it’s fine quality wine.

The point is that God’s desire to love and care for us is that big.

And the contemplation of this loving care is crucial, because we desire more than anything to be loving people and enter into that rest of knowing that God’s got it all under control. 

After all, we suspect that the cure for our nagging anxiety is in a deeper connection to God whose nature is to love and provide for us more than we will ever, ever comprehend.

So let us raise our glasses to this love, acknowledging the boundaries of human expression and the glorious boundlessness it will always fail to contain. God is hard at work, caring and providing for us, more than we can ever know. 

I woke up early the other day, so worried about something that I was unkind to those around me.

Unable to put things into perspective, I was inconsiderate and preoccupied with something that ultimately didn’t amount to anything.

I hate when that happens.

In fact, when I take a mental inventory, I can think of a number of aspects of my life that do not inspire pride. Maybe you’re like me and have wrestled with moments of over-worry, unforgiveness, selfishness, catty conversation, and little faith?

Don’t we wish we could pile all those unsavory aspects of our behaviors into a wheelbarrow, take them to a bonfire, and watch them go up in smoke?

On Sunday we will hear Jesus described as one who gathers the chaff, that which is unwanted and unneeded, and burns it with unquenchable fire. 

This is such and important and attractive part of Jesus’ ministry: that we can be free of those aspects of our lives that are not life-giving and productive for ourselves or others.

What would life be like if we could get rid of our worst habits?

While this is far from instant - the Christian life suggests it can happen gradually - as we move to make our participation in Jesus' divine life a bigger part of our human lives - to help melt away all that junk that’s better off elsewhere.

What Christ bids of us, is to get closer to the fire - close enough to warmly nurture that which gives life - and closer still to burn away that which does not. 

In this season of Epiphany, what does God want to burn away? What’s the chaff? And how are we going about our work of drawing closer to the Light - and the fire - that heals and brings life. 

I remember getting a wake up call when my boss fired me.

Sure there were warning signs, comments made, meetings I wasn’t invited to - but I didn’t want to think about these things - because they were difficult and unpleasant 

In hindsight, it would have done a world of good if I had - 

Being more aware of who we are and what our place is in the world is nothing but beneficial to us and those around us.

That’s why I like this season called ‘Epiphany’ - this season of revealing - the revelation of truth - 

Epiphany is when we stop hitting the snooze button every time we get a wake up call.

It’s when we see that embracing our whole - especially the unseemly bits - is where the real growth, learning, and ultimately, fulfillment comes from.

On Sunday we’ll hear the familiar story of the Three Kings - 

This story wakes us up to a number of realities -

Certainly with 3 Kings following a star - reveals to us the reality of divine guidance-

When King Herod tries to find the baby - it’s to the reality of wicked and oppressive forces that are working to harm - not just in their world, but in ours

It’s revealed in Joseph and Mary - those two nobodies from nowhere - that everybody, no matter how insignificant we feel we are, has a vocation. 

I think that last bit is really important today - because there’s a lot of apathy out there - a lot of people asking, ‘Hey, does my life matter?’

This magical story reminds us that our relationship with our vocation - with our unique calling - is like a relationship between a father and a son - or a mother and a son: if dad doesn’t show up for that kid, if mom doesn’t show up for that kid - no one else can or will - the job of a parent is irreplaceable - and so are we in God’s world - doing the work that only we can do.

So this Epiphany, let it be revealed to us anew how important we are to God and to the world around us -

That the Divine is invisibly working to keep us from harm - 

And that guidance from above will come - stars do appear - may we have eyes to see. 

The new year is right around the corner: are you positive about 2019 or are you scared and worried about it?

Perhaps you're somewhere in the middle, and I suspect most people are.

And probably the most important thing to take into 2019 is a deeper leaning into the positive. 

Empirical research shows us that, unquestionably the attitude we take into a situation can be the single most defining element of its result.

A positive, hopeful attitude will help us endure suffering, overcome challenges, it makes hospital stays shorter, and generally we will be happier people.

A negative attitude will look at challenges as depressing, victories as suspicious, it will make us angrier quicker, and lead to an overall less enjoyable life.

Two things:

There are precious few things in life that we can change-

We know that nearly everything we have can be taken from us- often, in the blink of an eye.

Yet the one thing we can change, and the one thing that can never be taken away from us is our hopeful and positive attitude. 

And we have this because we know God.

At Christmas we remember this great gift that God has given us, that God is present in our hearts to help us take on life’s difficulties - to give us strength to reach outside of ourselves and help others - and to attain our best selves - which is always in giving - and this fills our souls with gratitude.

A day does not go by and which we don't thank God for our health, our wealth, our families, our vocations -  the list is nearly endless.

Having a positive attitude is a choice.

And we have plenty of sensible reasons to cultivate one.

So let's let our attitude be fueled by the gratefulness - it will make us more positive - and let's take that into 2019 and see if this can't be our best year ever. 

Early pregnancy tests.

Gender reveals.

How to sleep comfortably.

Prenatal nutrition.

Diapers.

Cribs.

Strollers.

How-to books.

…

Oh, and wonder. 

Awe and wonder.

Sure, millions of babies are born every day.

But every single one is nothing less than a miracle.

This weekend we’ll hear how pregnant cousins Elizabeth and Mary came together for a visit.

And how quickly they cut through the chit-chat to sing of the sacred: the human body reproduces, the human soul cries out in praise.

Oh how good it is to go deeper.

And we need deeper.

Instead of asking, ‘How are you?’ ask, ‘What’s your story?'

Instead of, ‘How was your weekend?’ try, ‘What was the favorite part of your weekend?'

Instead of, ‘Where did you grow up?,’ ask, ’Tell me something interesting about where you grew up?’

Instead of, ‘What do you do?,’ try, ‘What drew you to your line of work?’

This holiday, when the brief, shallow, and superficial suffice, may God help us break the surface, plumb the depths, not be content with weather and sports, but see and reflect the depth that dwells in every soul we’ll meet.

Too often we live in the shallows - when the Sacred dwells in the depths. 

A dozen years ago a lot of manufacturers were complaining about Walmart.

The retail giant, at its zenith, had begun demanding more and more from the companies that made the goods the retailer sold. Walmart wanted it cheaper, wanted free shipping, and wanted longer terms to pay their bills. Manufacturers were outraged, complaining that their profits would suffer, people would lose their jobs, and there was no way they could possibly meet Walmart's demands and stay in business

At the time, I had a good friend who was an executive with Kellogg's. He worked on the Walmart account. And I noticed that he did not seem troubled by this development. And I remember initiating a conversation with him.

He explained to me that many in his industry thought Walmart was a big, bad, brute, but he chose to look at things a bit differently. He saw, in Walmart, an entity whose demands were great, but who ultimately made his company, and many others, more competitive and more productive. They had to figure out a better way to make their product, if they were going to survive, and even meet their greatest potential.

This story comes to mind as you and I ponder the radical side of John the Baptist this coming weekend. We look at that part of the prophet who demands a deeper commitment to God, a deeper awareness of our sinfulness, and a willingness to repent and try harder.

Good Christian people, this comes across as harsh and demanding, after all we feel like we're doing the best we can. But John the Baptist thinks we can do better, he was sent by God 2 challenge the followers of God and to help them meet their highest potential.

From this, we learn that God it's not out to punish us or to criticize us without cause, but God wants the very best for us because deep down, we want the very best for ourselves.

This is the season, Advent, for us to ask a new, how committed are we? How much more committed might we be? What does that look like in our lives? And how do our attempts to draw nearer to God help us and those around us? 

I suppose there's a bit of irony in going to a filling station to lose your water.

But that's what the text she sent me read, as mom spent the next few hours wondering if that's what had indeed happened before heading to Providence hospital in Novi to confirm. And yes, two and a half weeks ahead of schedule, a child would soon be born.

Labor would officially begin in room 333 at 1:10 a.m., the feast of Deacon Nicholas Ferrar, with a dose of pitocin, followed by an epidural at 11:30 a.m. with the contractions forcing momma to push at 2:50.p.m.

Little Jack's head prove challenging to fit through the exit and several positions were tried as an escalating heart rates meant that this couldn't go on much longer. At 3:42 p.m. the calm, cool delivery doctor, Dr. Hermann, flanked by two students and three nurses, God bless Wendy for her standout performance throughout, issued a stern ultimatum. “Kathryn," she said,"you get one more chance to push or we go to the operating room for C-Section surgery." Whether this was true or had medical experience proved the efficacy of such threats, I don't know. But armed with a manual suction pump, Dr. Hermann pulled and Kathryn pushed. This winning combination brought Jack into the light of day at 3:45 p.m. to the tearful delight of mom and dad.

After nurses checked him out under something called a Panda Baby Light (acquired used from the Detroit Zoo?) Jack was placed into the arms of his overjoyed mother. Doctors stitched up Kathryn whose blood loss was substantial enough to warrant two transfusions and tack two more days on to the hospital stay. Jack, having spent too long in his ruptured bag of washers, was also under 48-hour observation.

The level of joy Jack's arrival infused into our family made it possible to enjoy the disorienting few days of fatigue and pain that always follows, as his smile, his warm, his voice, his peacefulness, even his scent, all destined to have an even greater effect on the world that awaits him. Mom and dad stand in awe and gratefulness knowing that if these few days are this good, imagine what a lifetime with Jack might bring.