Today it is warm in Greensboro. I was greeted by spring-like weather when I returned from my pastors’ conference at Mt. Hermon, but today is more summer-like than spring-like. I suspect there will be some hot days ahead, but that is just fine with me…


Sunday was a special day in the Ackles and Content families. Our granddaughter Colette was baptized. The non-denominational church that Steve and Emily have become a part of both dedicates and baptizes children, doing one at the first service and another at the second. It goes without saying that for all of us it was a meaningful time, with Nancy and I and Steve’s mom there. I was asked to participate by offering a prayer at the end of the baptism, and there were tears of joy as the ceremony went forward and as slides of Colette and the family passed by on the PowerPoint behind us. A party at the Content home afterwards capped off the day with good friends sharing food and laughter.

The understanding of Emily and Steve’s church regarding baptism is not exactly the same as the Presbyterian way, but I know God hears our hearts and that such little differences only make the whole body of Christ richer. After all it is true that together we are one body—not despite but because of our differences… The only problem differences create is when we believe our way is the only true way, and others are on the wrong path. While there certainly are parameters of truth, points of faith and life that define what a Christian is and outside of which the very word Christian does not apply. But too often the arguing between churches takes place in areas of unclarity and uncertainty, areas where more people ought to be heeding Augustine’s maxim, In essentials unity, in non-essentials liberty, in all things love.

Monday was another day of celebration in the Content family, but this time for a very different reason. The house in Miami that Emily and Steve had been trying for nearly a year to sell finally closed on Friday, which meant they had enough cash to buy a second car which with his work and their baby they need. Only the car they bought was not just a car, but was the car Steve had wanted for years, a 1991 BMW M5. Now to me travel and cycling mean a great deal, while I am content with driving my 1973 Dodge Van, but I know that cars mean a great deal to some people, and Steve is one of these people. And they say that the M5 is a safe car, a reliable car, and a good car for a growing family… At least that is how it seems or what they say…


So, now Nancy and I are in Greensboro sharing life with a daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter. At this point I guess it ought to begin to settle into my spirit that life is really changed for us and 37 years of pastoral/parish ministry has come to an end. There is sadness in that for me, and wondering. But at the same time this new place with its tasks: turning a new-to-us house into our home, sharing in raising a child, finding a place in a local church and community, building new relationships, and whatever God has in store for us is an adventure. It is different and it is a challenge and a joy at the same time—and most of all it is God’s call for this season of life… At least until the end of June when Nancy and I head off to Dublin, Ireland, while I serve the Adelaide Street Presbyterian Church as pastoral supply for two months.

For years they have called them the Three H’s. They are a forest, a lake and a mountain. They are three large independent Christian conference centers in California—Forest Home, Lake Hume and Mt. Hermon.

This week I am at the mountain—Mt. Hermon. It is a special place, filled with the history of countless camps and conferences with the best speakers and the most moving programs. I am here to attend the 35th annual gathering of Presbyterian pastors called the West Coast Presbyterian Pastors’ Conference. This conference is one that I helped organize as the Young Presbyterian Pastors’ Conference many years ago, but as time passed and reality dawned, the Young was dropped out of the name of the conference. I have attended many years since the first conference—in fact I am considered one of the old timers.

I go to this conference because the place is so beautiful. Located in the redwood hills above Santa Cruz, one could hardly think of a more wonderful place to come and get away for a while. Very near San Jose, with its international airport and the hustle of Silicon Valley, it is in a world all of its own. Over the years the conference facilities have been developed into first-class accommodations, and nestled as they are in the middle of towering redwoods, with a creek flowing through, they compare with any facilities anywhere. Walking in the woods or along the creek, enjoying the beauty of God’s creation, is truly an awesome experience.

I also attend this conference because of the excellent program that has characterized the conference. Part of the program is the inspiring worship, where we sing and pray and present ourselves to God with hearty enthusiasm. Another part of the program is the consistently inspiring presentations by the leaders who are invited to address the group. Each year two people share the speaking times, one in the mornings and one in the evenings. One is usually a pastor who emphasizes the pastoral role that attendees bear, while the other is usually a theologian who brings some particular facet of his or her particular scholarship to the group. This year’s speakers are outstanding—challenging, engaging and thoughtful—which is usually the way it is.


But the main reason I attend this conference is because of the relationships which I rekindle each year. Some of the people who attend this conference, like me, have been coming since their ministries began—since they were young Presbyterian pastors. That means that some of us have shared lives and stories for forty years. We have gone together through deep waters of trials and troubles, and celebrated together the victories of the faith. New people come every year, are greeted and soon become part of the community, so that the conference is today as well attended as it ever has been. But the older relationships have a special significance to me, a special power to encourage, and a special ability to refresh.


The conference has its unusual traditions—the most well known of which is a night of unabashed foolishness and laughter that rings out every Thursday at our dinner and “talent show”. Regulars give variations on expected performances, new people bring the group to tears of laughter, and speakers are routinely humbled as they are made the brunt of skits and jokes. All is good fun and the camaraderie is unexcelled.
As far as anyone knows, this conference is unique. Tonight’s speaker says he knows of nothing like it in the Christian world. That may or may not be true, but most agree that there is nothing like it in the Presbyterian world. For some it is the glue that holds them together in their ministry, and for others it is the glue that holds them in the Presbyterian fold. For all who attend this conference is a microcosm of what the church is supposed to be, and even of what heaven will be—a place of sharing, of encouraging, of listening, of learning and of laughing as the people of God…The week is a reminder of what a privilege it is to be a part of the family of God, a family that is created to sing, share, praise and laugh in the light and love of the Holy One! GK Chesterton said, Joy is the business of heaven. That makes this conference a little bit of heaven--as Isaiah also said 12:6 “Shout aloud and sing for joy, people of Zion, for great is the Holy One of Israel among you."

Our new home in Greensboro--just the right size








and a forest and a lake in the back yard...


I am currently on a plane from Seattle to San Jose, leaving a week of renewing relationships with family and friends from Shoreline and heading towards the 36th annual renewal of relationships at the West Coast Presbyterian Pastors’ Conference. I helped begin this conference all those years ago, although then it was called the West Coast Young Presbyterian Pastors’ Conference. But times do change…
They say you can’t go back. And I guess that is true. In fact I guess it is true about every day and every moment and every place and every relationship. The obvious reason for this is that in a sense we are new every moment—at least every day. Every day is its own new gift, its own new challenge, its own new door to walk through and opportunity or peril to face. And every day we bring the past into the present and make decisions and act on those decisions, and no matter what has happened before or who we have been up until that point, the new decisions and actions have their own profound impact on creating who we are at that new moment and who we will be in the new future. It is that intermixing of the past and the present that creates the now and the future. In the whole thing the only constant is God himself, and I assume that was what the author of Lamentations had in mind when he reminded himself, and us, of this: Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. (Lamentations 3:21-23)

So, going back to Shoreline for the first time since leaving almost a year ago was not going back—it was going forward. It was going forward and building on what had been for twenty years—and on what has been during the last year. It was a time of celebrating and remembering and renewing and catching up and appreciating afresh what twenty years of life together had been, and also of what through the time apart it was becoming. It was a happy time of seeing good friends, of catching up on where God had led them, and at the same time it had sober moments of sharing grief over the losses that some had experienced in the time apart.

One of the great truths of the Christian faith is that when Paul talks about being one body in Christ he is describing an eternal and present reality: we are one. No matter what time or distance separates us, as believers we are together in life and ministry. Even though we are miles or perhaps even continents apart, as each of us continues to follow God’s leading and serve him, we are doing it together. In success and failure, in joy and sorrow, in exhilaration and in fear, we are one. And the work we did when together is continued just as it was when we were “together” when we are apart.

I have always felt that the true measure of the work of a minister is not what happens when that person is “on the job” but rather what is “left behind”, what goes on and grows on. And I celebrate the life and growth that I see in and through the people Nancy and I “left behind” when we left Calvin. I thank God for the faithfulness of his people, the interjection of new life and new ideas by new people, the love, laughter and tears that we can share, and the faithfulness of God.
In short, I thank God for the chance to go back and visit good friends and co-workers in God’s vineyard. I thank God for the chance to celebrate what was. I thank God for the chance to learn about and celebrate what has been since we left. And I thank God for his ongoing work that leads us into the future, a new future that is built on the past but that is truly new every morning… And above all I thank God for his faithfulness—every day, his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

The Lord is risen!
He is risen indeed!

Today’s Easter message at the church Emily and Steve attend was a very good message. The pastor talked about our deep affinity with rescuers, and our desire to see someone come and liberate those who are oppressed. He illustrated his message with video clips from The Gladiator and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. And he invited all to see and acknowledge Christ as the ultimate rescuer—through the power of the resurrection. The service was challenging and uplifting—and it was made even better for me as throughout the whole service I was the official holder of Colette, our granddaughter, who spent most of the time asleep in my lap.

But I confess that I did miss certain things that have been part of my life and Easter celebrations for many years. The Sunday before I had missed the children marching down the aisle with palm branches, and I had missed the special services of Holy Week. Today I missed the people with whom I have shared many Easters. I missed the Easter flowers at Calvin. I missed sharing a message myself. I missed singing the Hallelujah Chorus. And I missed starting the service with The Lord is risen! He is risen indeed! Somehow Happy Easter is just not the same…

I guess what it all says is that my roots in a more traditional and liturgical setting, although not as strong as many I know, are a part of me that have value and carry meaning to me. There is something to be said for contemporary worship and new forms, but without the roots in the traditions of the church there is a thin-ness to them that does not do justice to the historical nature of our faith. We did not invent the gospel in this generation, nor should we forget the history which the gospel brings with it…

In any case I am now back in the USA, having finished six weeks in Mexico. My teaching went well, and five days in wonderful Cozumel have ended. I will be leaving tomorrow for the west coast for two weeks, but my life has changed—-I am officially no longer a westerner but am an easterner (south-east) as, after a year of being homeless, Nancy and I are now homeowners once again. We have purchased a small home in Greensboro, North Carolina, just four minutes from Emily, Steve and Colette. Our car even has North Carolina plates now. We feel a bit traitorous, as both our ancestors made the arduous trek west well over a hundred and fifty years ago--seeking a better life. But such is the adventure God has given us today.

But—before I leave Mexico entirely, I said I would make comments on a hacienda visit I took, so I should. The Yucatan Peninsula was one of the wealthiest places on earth from the mid 19th century through the first of the 20th century. The reason was that this era was the heyday of the great sailing ships, when they plied the oceans carrying the world’s cargo. And the ships needed hemp for their riggings—and the Yucatan supplied the hemp. When steamships replaced the sailing ships, and when nylon replaced hemp, everything changed, but for a period the Yucatan produced what the world needed—and it got rich.


At least a few people got rich—that was the landed aristocracy, the hacienda owners, the most direct descendents of the Spanish conquerors. The pattern was standard, and it made money for a few on the sweat of many. A hacienda consisted of a great home for the landowner, the factory necessary to spin the raw hemp into twine or rope, and thousands of very poor, very hardworking commoners living in primitive conditions. It was a kind of slavery, with the workers forced to purchase all they needed from the only local store, a store owned by the hacienda owner. People were not bought and sold, but forever in debt, being paid little or nothing, the effect was the same. And the work was hard. The henequen plant is rough and pointed. The temperatures regularly rose beyond 100 degrees, and the land is dry.

Today the Yucatan is dotted with decaying haciendas. Most of them are abandoned, although a few are being turned into tourist destinations. Around almost all, no matter how decayed, is a small village, a village that houses those who used to labor in the field or their children. The villages are very poor and the people live in them in ways not unlike how they lived when the hacienda was in its glory.

The hacienda I visited kept producing hemp on a very small scale until the 1950’s. Today it is fascinating to see, to learn about, or to stay on site as a Bed and Breakfast guest. One marvels at the ingenuity needed to keep such an operation going, but that emotion is mixed with sadness about the whole system which it represented as well. A part of history.

Last Sunday I had the privilege of preaching at the main downtown Presbyterian Church in Merida, Divino Salvador. The church has an historic presence in the city and has been responsible for planting many other Presbyterian churches in the Yucatan. It has its share of problems right now, but it was a joy to be able to be part of its life, and perhaps what I shared could be helpful in its faith journey.
a I finished my classes at the seminary on Thursday afternoon and left Merida on Friday, taking the bus to Playa del Carmen, south of Cancun on the Mexican Riviera. From there I took a ferry across to Cozumel, the largest island in Mexico. I first visited Cozumel with my parents in 1961 and have returned many times since then. It is one of my favorite places on earth, and each time I arrive I feel like I have come back home.


However, in those many years since my first visit Cozumel has been transformed by the power of the tourist industry and the television. The main (only) village on the island used to be a place where the plaza was the center of community and family life, where people would gather to listen to music, walk around and meet friends. It is now surrounded by t-shirt shops, bars and restaurants that cater to the hoards of people who are disgorged from huge cruise liners that stop for the day so people can say they have visited Mexico. Signs hawking t-shirts 6 for $20 or beer for $1 are everywhere, along with shops selling diamonds and diamond-substitutes, tequila and native handcrafts. I know that for many people cruise travel is a very positive experience, and I am not trying to be critical of it, and I also know that the tourist industry has made this part of the world a place of full employment (albeit mostly low-paying jobs). But it has changed the face and the culture of the island.

After arriving on Friday I spent all day Saturday in Cancun, a one hour bus ride north of the ferry dock at Playa del Carmen. There I had lunch with Rafael Sanchez, who was involved at Calvin several years ago, and who now lives in Cancun and is married to Valya, who is Ukrainian but was at Calvin for two years. Small world when Mexico and Ukraine meet in Shoreline! Rafael is a graduate of the music school at the seminary in Merida, and now teaches music plus is starting a church in his home. After a long lunch, catching up on many things, I spent several hours with the people of his church talking to them about leadership and church growth. The church is small but has enthusiasm and is seeking God’s guidance in its founding and moving out.
Sunday I was invited by the current pastor, a former student of mine, to preach at the main Presbyterian church in Cozumel. The church is alive and full of the Spirit, and it was a joy to share with them on Palm Sunday. The main service was in the evening and I had been asked to share out of Philippians 2:1-11. As I studied this passage I recognized the emphasis of Paul was not on the exaltation of Christ but on his humiliation—as an example of the humility which is to be at the heart of any healthy relationships—in the family, community or church. While here in Mexico, partly by teaching 1 Corinthians and partly by reflecting on the various situations I have seen in the churches, I have been reminded of the call of Christ to move beyond the most common motives for fallen human interaction, pride and power, to Christ’s motives—love expressed in actions of caring rooted in a deep sense of humility. As Paul says it in Philippians 2:3 and 4, Do nothing from selfishness or conceit, but in humility count others better than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Simple, yet so difficult!

Oh, of course I had to make a circle tour around the island on my bicycle, and did that yesterday as well. The west side of the island is a string of large resort hotels with beautiful beaches, while the east is wild, windswept (the next land to the east is probably N. Africa) and beautiful, while the land between the coasts is desert. The circle tour was only about 40 miles, but very interesting, and always very hot and windy…