It has been several weeks since I last posted an update on this site. In that time I have changed worlds once again, from a wonderful three months with great friends and challenging ministry in Merida, Mexico to Greensboro, North Carolina. My teaching at El Seminario Presbitariano de San Pablo and in their extension program in the city center came to a conclusion the last week of April and Nancy and my time in Carlow, Ireland, begins June 1. But in between we are in Greensboro—which is a great place to be.

Home in Merida...Home in Greensboro


JJ has left the Pacific Northwest and is with us while she waits for what will come next. Not certain what that will be but certain that God has a plan and it is good. Son-in-law Steve is finishing a very difficult three month firefighters’ school in preparation for his new position with the Greensboro fire department. Emily is doing well, just finished a two night a week job teaching English to people for whom English is not a first language. She also just finished her once a week tutoring time with the church they attend. Meanwhile Colette continues to be a joy to me and to others, growing every day, learning new words, and just fun to be with. A brother is going to join the Content household the end of August, and it will be interesting to see how big sister takes the little intruder…I am confident it will be very good.

Vista in Yucatan...Back Yard in Greensboro


Nancy and I have started to meet people and get involved in Oak Ridge Presbyterian Church. While it is hard to really be involved since we are away from the area so much of the time, it is good to begin finding a new home church. We miss Calvin and the people there (and Clarkston as well), and love to hear from people there, but we have moved and need to find a community to worship and serve in. We attended a Sunday School class last week and I was immediately asked to take the teaching role as long as I am in the area. Felt a little quick and all, but why not! So for the month I am leading the young couple’s class in its study of Luke. We were quite impressed when we learned that the class is spearheading a church-wide thrust to encourage people to consider carefully and prayerfully how they use the money they will be receiving as part of the government’s economic stimulus plan. The thrust is called Stimulus, and one aspect is inviting people to donate all or part of what they receive to a special fund in the church that will be used to help people in need. The dispersal of the funds will be decided upon by the entire church, responding to presentations of needs of any kind from any one. That plus a strong connection with south-east Mexico makes the church feel like a good place for Nancy and me.

Morning greeter Merida...

So, that is my life this month. Merida is a wonderful place and the Legters and others are amazing committed servants of Christ. But for now the heat of Merida has been exchanged for the warmth of Greensboro. The scenery is different and the work is different. Instead of Pauline Epistles, Preaching and Parables days are filled with family, a new church community, projects around our home and Emily and Steve’s as well, and time being a dad and a granddad. Cycling is good here, as it was there, but the terrain has changed. In fact nearly all is different—bit the constant is God’s adventure. That is what life really consists in, and that is the constant for all who trust in him…Where we are is interesting, but whose we are is most important… And if we belong to Christ then wherever we are, as long as we are seeking him and his call, is the right place…

Sometimes I wonder what world I am in…In the past few weeks I have gone from teaching in El Seminario Presbiteriano de San Pablo, in the Yucatan of Mexico, to Seattle, Washington to Greensboro, North Carolina, to the San Francisco Bay Area and back to Mexico. And in the midst of that I have made airline reservations for Nancy and me to get to Ireland where we will spend much of the summer, and back to Greensboro to be present for the birth of our second grandchild. I also made travel arrangements for us to get to Albania in October, and for me to get to France and Portugal to do some cycling with a friend prior to the ministry in Albania…

Some people ask about or assume that once you stop receiving a paycheck you are classified as “retired”. I have always had a problem with that for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that I do not find the word “retired” anywhere in the Bible. What I do find is the call to love and to serve God with all our heart, soul, strength and mind…And that is not time-limited. It is not something we are supposed to do for a season. It is not something we are supposed to do if we hold a position on a church board or a place in the pulpit. It is not something we are to do until we feel it is time for someone else to take over.

It is obviously true that the form of ministry we may have changes over time. And the place of ministry may change as well. Gifts that we have may change, energy levels may ebb and flow, and the needs that God places in front of us may vary from time to time and season in life to season in life. But the call is always there and the need is always there as well. While we may be led to ministry in other countries and with different kinds of people, we may as strongly be led to minister in different ways in the place we have always called home. Traveling is not essential to ministering, it is only one kind of call to some people. I feel blessed to have that call at this time, but it is certainly not a greater call or a more noble call than the call to stay and serve where one has been for years. And I assume that that call will come to Nancy and me some time.

The point is simply that from the moment we claim Christ as Savior and Lord we are enlisted in his service. And the point is that this enlistment is not short-term, it is life-long. Some time ago there was a commercial that said, You never outgrow your need for milk. In the Christian life it could be rephrased, You never outgrow your call to ministry. An alternate twist could be, You never outgrow your opportunity to share in the joy of being part of the greatest and most important movement history has ever known… But that is too long to be as memorable…

Ministry is not a function of place or position. It is a function of attitude. It is a willingness to show up and to be available to God—wherever we are or wherever we are called to be. I have always told people that no one single believer is able to or called to do everything, but I go on to say that each of us is called to do something. That is how God orders his work in and through us. In the busyness of a long work day—at home or at an office—each of us is called to ministry in some shape. In the early years and the later years of life each of us is called to ministry in some shape. And the joy of life is in finding that specific place and using that specific gift for the glory of God. We may be confused about what world we are in, but whatever the world the call is the same—and that call is the gift. As Jesus said, Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. (Matthew 10:39)

Today I need to do a little travelogue. The reason is simply that there has been so much happening, and at so many places, that the sum total might be interesting. Mexico is a big place and most people outside of the country know only small bits of it, and sometimes those bits are less than flattering. So, here goes a few details, small places and ordinary people—wonderful slices of life in this part of a very large country.

First there is Xoncauich. Our friend Febe first introduced us to this village some time ago—it has been her campo (field of ministry) for several years. On our first visit there we met Señor Kim and his wife. He is an artisan and she takes care of their house. When I say he is an artisan I mean he has won significant awards for his handcrafted baskets, goods which he makes from local material in the back of his house. Señor Kim’s ancestry is, like Febe’s, Korean, as he is descended from Koreans who were brought into this part of Mexico in the early 1900’s to work the henequen fields.


I suppose you would call him middle class, and based on my observations of the changes in his house since our last visit, I think that his economic situation is improving.

The kitchen in (or rather attached to) his house is basic—a circle of rocks to build a fire in and a pole to hang a pot from. Behind the house are some fruit trees, some plants that are being grown to sell, and several concrete enclosures for the pigs and other “getting ready to eat” animals. All are well cared for and relatively clean.

The pile of gourds on one side has recently come in from the field, and will in the course of time add to the tortilla, meat and vegetable staples.Our visit to Xoncauich was a visit of ministry for Febe, and by visiting and praying with the people we got to know a little about their situations, joys and needs.

From Xoncauich Nancy and I drove to Porvenir (Spanish for future), a camp which has served for many years as a center of ministry for Presbyterian churches in the Yucatan. On the property is a home owned by Dave and Jean Legters, our hosts, and they were lending it to us for the night. The camp is on the Gulf of Mexico, just at the tip of the Yucatan Peninsula, so you can see the sun rise over the water to the east and set over the water on the west. A walk on the beach, a dip in the Gulf and a beautiful star-filled sky made Nancy and me pledge to come back some time!

Driving back to Merida, before we stopped for lunch at the seaside resort of Progresso, we went through several small villages.

It was a Sunday, so everybody was out enjoying the day, walking, talking and playing baseball. As we slowly drove through one town we enjoyed looking out the driver’s side car windows and watching the pitcher and batter face off against one another. However, I was a bit taken aback when I realized that by looking out the passenger’s side window I had a clear view of the outfielders…In other words the road was taking us straight through center field. I guess when there is not a lot of open space and little traffic that is OK, but I am glad no one hit a hard line drive while we were passing through…

Just before this trip, the Ackles and Legters had driven to Celestun, a fantastic wildlife preserve on the Gulf coast. The draw there is one of the largest flamingo colonies in the world, and we were treated to a fairly close view of about 20,000 of them…Just after this trip we said goodbye to Nancy, who has gone back to Greensboro, by having a lovely lunch at a Hacienda which has been turned into a small hotel and restaurant. Our waiter was pleased to tell us that he had been the one who served President Bush his lunch when he was here last year—although he added that the little red laser dot that suddenly appeared on his shirt, just about where his heart was, as he approached the President with his meal, was a bit daunting...


I appreciate the differences in cultures. And I am so grateful to God to be able to come to know some of them. The world God has made has lots of problems, but it still reflects his creative power and loving care, and he still calls us to listen, learn and enjoy it.

The other day it rained. And it rained hard and long. Two days later I went out on my bike to do my little 12 mile circuit and I noticed a gorgeous tree. It was large and well shaped, and covered with beautiful bright pink flowers. It was particularly striking because it stood out in the stark environment of this area of the Yucatan. Being so taken by its beauty I wanted to take a photo to share with others, and to remember myself. So I told myself that the next day I would be sure to take my camera with me on my ride.

But the next day I forgot and the next day I was out of town and it wasn't until the third day that I remembered, took my camera and headed out to capture the beauty. However, when I came to the tree it had changed. The flowers had fallen off and it was now as stark and bare as anything around it. I had lost the chance to take the grand photo and was left with this one instead...

And as I thought about that I thought about life and the opportunities we have and our response to those opportunities. I thought about how time-sensitive some of those opportunities are--about how if we do not take advantage of them at the moment they are in front of us, we may never be able to at all.


Long ago I made a vow not to live life with a lot of "if onlys"... What I mean is not that I should try everything there is to try, because there are plenty of things that should not be done and which if done will inevitably lead to serious problems. But what I mean is to try to live life in such a way that I say "Yes" to positive opportunities when they present themselves. What I mean is that at the end of life I do not want to have to look back on a long list of things I could have done, doors I could have walked through, experiences I could have had--and that would have been positive--but that I failed to do or try.

Long ago I heard a story of a mother who was preparing supper when her young daughter came in and said, excitedly, "Mommy, come out and look at the beautiful sunset with me!" Busy with the food the mother replied, "I will in a minute, but first you go and wash up for supper." Slowly the daughter walked obediently to the bathroom and emerged just moments later, with clean hands. Then, after finishing the final details of the meal, the mother took her hand and walked out--only to see the faded tail end of the beauty that had been the sunset. The moment was missed... I do not want to miss the moments!

Last week I was at an evening chapel service in the seminary when someone came in and said that there was a lunar eclipse in process. I hurried outside, saw it was true, and then ran back to the house where Nancy was. I shouted at her to come outside, which she did, and together we watched as the shadowed moon grew bigger and bigger. It was beautiful. Had I waited long to tell her what was happening, she would have missed it and watching it together would not have happened. That special moment was not missed.

I don't know if the tree I saw in all its glory will bloom again while I am here. I doubt it. But if it does I will most assuredly take a photo right away! I missed that one, and may never have a second chance. But I want that to be the exception, not the rule...I want to say "Yes" to the opportunities God places in my way, not "No" and, perhaps even more importantly, not "Later". I want to remember that sunsets fade and trees lose their blossoms. I want to remember the words of Ecclesiastes 3, There is a time for everything under heaven. I think that is part of God's plan for each of us--part of making the most of the days, the hours and the minutes we have been given on this earth. I think that is at least one piece of what the Adventure of Living is all about...

The experiences I have when in Mexico are varied, often interesting, and regularly a surprise. Last weekend my hosts, Dave (Bito) and Jean Legters, were making a short trip to Cancun so that Bito could teach a class as part of the seminary’s extension program. So Nancy and I hitched a ride with them.

The drive takes about four hours on the toll road, and goes mile after mile through desolate, flat Yucatecan scenery. The whole of the Yucatan is a limestone slab, which gives little soil for growing things. As a result there are not many tall trees, but there are lots of thick low bushes, that fill the earth.

When we arrived in Cancun we found ourselves behind a trailer carrying two llamas, a very small pony, and a brown bear..then we dropped Bito and Jean off at the church where he was teaching, and made our way to Cecilia's house, a young woman who had lived with us as an exchange while we were in Clarkston, many years ago.
She is an architect, her husband a landscape designer, and they have two children. It was great to see them all, their wonderful home and to share a meal in an Italian restaurant right on the beach. While Ivars at Lake Union has a lot going for it, eating under a tent within feet of the lapping Caribbean, with the temperature in the 80’s as we ate dinner, does have something going for it!

The next morning Nancy and I had breakfast with Rafael Sanchez and his wife, Valya. Rafael is a Mexican and Valya a Ukrainian, and they met thanks to invitations each had received to share in the ministry of Calvin Presbyterian Church in Seattle. The world is becoming smaller… Rafael teaches music at several venues while Valya works in a travel agency, but the big news was that their first baby is due any day. Sharing in their world, their joy and their life was great.

Next we picked Bito and Jean up and headed back to Merida. The drive seemed a bit longer partly as the air conditioning in the car had decided to die, but also as we took a detour to Ek-Balam, a recently developed and unique Mayan archeological site. When the Spaniards first came to this part of the world they established a headquarters at Valladolid, near Ek-Balam, but they moved to Merida within a couple years because it was much closer to the sea and their lifeline—their ships.



While the Spaniards were in Valladolid the priest-ruler of Ek-Balam, not wanting to see his sacred sites profaned, enlisted his subjects in the task of burying them. This was not easy as the sites were large pyramids, but the project was successful and the Spaniards never knew they were there. Soon the jungle grew over the buried pyramid-temples and as generations went on their existence was lost to memory Only recently discovered and uncovered, the sites offer an unparalleled picture of life at the turn of the first millennium—the period when Ek-Balam was built.

Particularly interesting are the statues and decorations which, being buried, have withstood the ravages of time very well. The Mayan road leading into the complex is clearly visible, the temples are there, and the art is amazing. The visit was unexpected, and well worth the time.

Back in Merida there are classes to give, churches to visit, and people to interact with. One evening finds Nancy and me at a small village church where I have been invited to give a message about love for Valentine’s Day. Another finds us at the large downtown Presbyterian Church, either attending or delivering the sermon I have been invited to preach. My classes take many hours of preparation, but that itself is a joy…

In short, while being away from family (i.e. granddaughter) is not fun, Nancy and I are at the right place and doing the right thing. It is varied and interesting for us, and prayerfully helpful for the people we are and can be with. The words of Proverbs 3 are certainly true, 5Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; 6 in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. I would translate that also as make your paths an adventure. And we are thankful for the path we are on.

Last year getting bike in box from bus to ferry at Cozumel.

While I pack as little as possible when I travel, knowing that what I might not bring will probably be available where I am heading, my bicycle is a different matter. If I am going to be some place for a length of time, it goes where I go. But as I like to say, a bike is a vehicle well designed to carry people, but not well designed to be carried by people. So I look for the best bag or box or whatever—something big enough to put the bike in but small enough to be somewhat manageable. This means that when bike and box must go together, creatively using local transport for bike transport. On the other hand, if the travel is the beginning of a trip, it has to be something that can be discarded at the destination. Which raises the question of what to do when leaving someplace with an item that airlines require to be somewhat disassembled and secured in an appropriate box or bag, when the required container is almost never available at the airport itself.

All of this is to say that when preparing for Merida a week ago I debated about leaving fenders on my bike—a truly trivial debate. Fenders weigh next to nothing but they do take up space, make the machine more difficult to disassemble, and can be broken. Why, I thought, when I am going to a place that will be near 100 degrees many days, would I have any need for something the only use of which is to prevent dirty water from soaking one’s backside when it rains…

In the end, I did not have to compromise size for convenience, as a very kind employee of Continental Airlines (non-solicited plug) at the Greensboro Airport left his post and fifteen minutes later emerged with two, not one but two, nice new cardboard boxes especially designed for bicycles on airlines. They are very large and accommodate a bike with almost no disassembling at all—a real treasure and at no charge to me.



Well, today I realized why leaving fenders at home would not have been a good idea. I headed out on a little exercise ride, it clouded up, and it rained. I should have remembered that despite the heat, or rather because of the heat, afternoon rains are a part of the world here. They are not unpleasant because the temperature is still in the 80’s and the rain itself is warm, but they could be if one were subjected to a constant stream of muddy warm water constantly spewing off rotating tires onto chin and back and other body parts for a period of time. So riding in the rain, on uncrowded byways past old haciendas and fields of brush, was and I am certain will be just fine because I brought my fenders.

However, the experience did cause me to reflect on Ireland, and the different experiences we can have in different places. Last summer Nancy and I had a wonderful two months with wonderful people in Dublin—and it rained every day. It was some kind of century record for rain in Ireland, which is saying something. And the strange thing is that while I chose to get out and cycle almost every day, I never really got wet. The rain just seemed to pause and the sun often broke through the clouds as I headed onto the road. In short, I realized that I would not really have needed fenders in rainy Ireland, whereas it is very nice to have them in hot and sunny Yucatan.

And what did this cause me to ponder? The unexpected things that come into our lives. Preparing for things that by all rights should happen but do not. And not being prepared for things that by all rights should not happen but do. And especially, but not uniquely, as we travel. The point is that if we think we are or even can be in control, we are very wrong. If we think we are prepared for any contingency, we are very wrong. One of the truths of life is that we are not in control, and that the unexpected happens—both good and bad.



I guess in that reality there are two lessons. One is to not get too worried when what we think should happen or have prepared for doesn’t come about. The other is to rejoice in the fact that God’s hand is in everything. This is not a fatalistic presence but a personal and powerful one. As Paul wrote in Romans 8:28, Ahora bien, sabemos que Dios dispone todas las cosas para el bien de quienes lo aman, los que han sido llamados de acuerdo con su propósito. (I am in Mexico!...But for English speakers, We know that in everything God works for good with those who love him, who are called according to his purpose.)

Changing worlds, changing lives, plans that have to be altered, disappointments, serendipities, at home with the most familiar or far away in a different culture—in all times and places God is present and at work—for good in and through those who love him…

Right now I am in the midst of getting ready to go to Mexico. I will be there for most of the next three months, teaching once again at El Seminario Presbiteriano de San Pablo, in Merida, Yucatan. This time I will be helping in a class on Homiletics (Preaching) for the fourth year theology students and offering a class on the Pauline Epistles (Letters of Paul) to the second year theology students. Nancy will be with me much of the time, which will be very nice!

I have had the privilege of participating in the life of this seminary for about a dozen years, and each time am refreshed, challenged and invigorated by it. The dedication of the staff and students is something our seminaries could learn from, and the impact of the school on churches throughout the Yucatan Peninsula is another. The school lacks some resources that we in our setting take for granted, but it goes on without them and does a wonderful work.

This time, as my world is freer than it has been, I will be spending enough time there to be a part of the school, not just a visitor, which will be nice. I am afforded the luxury of living with Dave and Jean Legters, right on the seminary property, which is a wonderful gift and a bonus in reduced travel time and more time with students and the Legters themselves. My Spanish needs some brushing up, I am sure, but by the time I leave I probably will be ready to begin…Just the way it goes.

In preparing for the class on Paul’s letters I have been revisiting, revising and expanding some of the material which I have presented several times before, both at Clarkston and Calvin. The theme The People of God has always seemed to me to be an appropriate theme in presenting the entire sweep of Biblical history, and the material on Paul is part of the last of six semesters I have developed for this sweep. This last semester is called The Triumph of the People of God, and The Faith of the People of God covers the part of the New Testament I will be teaching in Mexico.

Since my days in seminary (long ago) there have been important advances in Biblical studies, some of which have cast new light on the person and work of Paul. One of the most significant is the recognition that Paul’s religious identity, while always recognized as that of a Pharisee, was most likely that of a particular kind of Pharisee, a Shammaite. In the New Testament period there was a moderate branch of Pharisees which followed arguably the greatest rabbi of all time, Rabbi Hillel. Gamiliel, the rabbi under whom Paul studied, was of this branch. But there was another branch, one which followed a much more radical cleric, Rabbi Shammai. The former branch was in power in the ruling body of Judaism, the Sanhedrin, but the latter made its influence felt in the society as a whole. The former stood for cooperation but the latter for confrontation. Shammaites wanted complete separation of Jews from all non-Jewish peoples, absolute freedom from any foreign powers, strict obedience to the Torah among Jews, and they were zealous to the point of violent in their pursuit of those ends. Scholars place Paul within this group.

What this meant was that Paul would stop at nothing to purify his people from foreign threats or internal compromise—including persecuting those who were straying from the truth, such as those who followed Jesus. It was with that intent that he traveled to Damascus, and that intent which was radically altered when he was met by the risen Christ. At that moment Paul was forced to see, not that his Jewish conviction was wrong but that it was completed in Jesus. Jesus was the One the prophets had talked about, the One who was to come at the End of the Age, the Messiah who would usher in a New Age—an age in which the non-Jewish peoples would be brought to the light.
Isaiah 60:1 Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD rises upon you. 2 See, darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the peoples, but the LORD rises upon you and his glory appears over you. 3 Nations will come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.

And that mission to the Gentiles became Paul’s goal and his mission, a mission to which he gave himself with the same complete zeal and abandonment that he had given to his prior mission. What Israel had been given from the beginning call to Abraham was always meant to be a blessing for the whole world, but Israel had failed to fully grasp or implement that call. But now was the time to get on with it. Now was the time to see to it that the whole world would hear and that all the nations would come to the Light of the World, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of the entire universe—the God who appeared, served and returned in Jesus Christ.

As I visit the character and ministry of Paul in this light, I am reminded of the charge of the Risen Lord to his church today. It is just the same—to get the gospel out to all peoples, to those nearby and those far away. It is not a charge that includes an invitation to Shamaaite violence, nor to the violence that accompanies some religious zealots today. But it includes the same Shamaaite commitment, the same Shamaaite intensity, the same Shamaaite zeal… This charge is the primary mission of the church, just as it always has been, and it’s pursuit of this mission is the basis of the judgment which will be made of each church and each believer when the End of the Age reaches its culmination in the return of the Son of Man. It is my prayer that we each may have this commitment, this intensity, and this mission…

My experience of winter in Greensboro is very different from my experience of winters in the west. When I read the weather reports from Washington I feel slightly, though not completely, guilty as the weather here is completely unlike the weather there--and in what I think is a very good way. Here we have very cold days from time to time, but the coldest days are usually clear sky days. We have had some downpours, but are in the midst of a drought so there is little threat of rain most days. And we are also having record highs. This past week I was able to get out on my bike three times, and take long walks on trails past lakes several other days. At times it felt like spring had arrived. I like it!


Another aspect of winter here is the trees. Most places I have lived in the west have evergreen pine and fir trees, beautiful and always green. Here most of the trees lose their leaves in the winter, which creates a very different feel. The ground in the woods behind us is covered with fallen leaves and the trees are bare. The pond behind us has been frozen a couple days,
which confuses the geese who inhabit it, but at the same time it tranquilly reflects the browns surrounding it. The season has its harshness, but at the same time it has a special kind of beauty. It is not a beauty of vibrant life and brilliant color, but one of stark plainness. It is a beauty that calls for silence; a beauty that calls for calm. It is a beauty that lets you see what is behind the color and cover of other seasons, in a sense it is a season of honesty.


I am glad to live in a place that has seasons. It reminds me of Ecclesiastes 3, There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.

At times we would like the clock to stand still, but it will not. At times we grieve over the times and seasons that have passed and long for them to return, but they will not. What this means is that we need to see the beauty of the season we are in, not expect one form of beauty to last forever. It also means we need to learn how to listen to God at every season, and how to live for God with the changes that each season brings. And we need to give thanks that, through faith in Christ, some day for us, and for the whole world, all things once again will be made new…

Nancy and I spent Christmas 2006 in Rome. We flew from Tirana, Albania, to the Italian capital on Christmas Eve day and spent two days there before meeting JJ and driving through northern Italy. We heard the bells of Rome peal at midnight, announcing the birth of the Savior, and stood in Vatican Square twice to see and hear the Pope address the world. A memorable Christmas.

We spent Christmas 2007 in Greensboro. We were with family—Emily, Steve and Colette, JJ (en route to Phoenix from Tacoma), and Steve’s mother. Quite a different Christmas and quite a wonderful one.


But Christmas eve day, as in 2007, saw Nancy and I in the air, flying not from Tirana to Rome but from Merida, Mexico to Greensboro. We had been in Merida for only a couple days, and were there for a very special purpose—the wedding of Febe Pat, a long-standing friend and former Trainee at Calvin. Nancy and I had helped Febe through her theological training at San Pablo Seminary, and we had hosted her in our home in Shoreline. We had followed her life’s journey in prayer and I had been honored to be invited to deliver the sermon in the worship service which preceded the actual marriage ceremony. Our good friend Dave Legters was charged with tying the knot between Febe and Samuel.
In Christian circles in Mexico there are two weddings. One is the formal and legal one, which happens before a civil magistrate of some kind. These ceremonies are not considered the actual wedding by believers, but are occasions for celebration and joy. The Christian wedding is incorporated into a worship service some time after the civil ceremony, and to the couple it is this service which constitutes their union.
Febe’s wedding was a true celebration, held in the church she had grown up in, the village of Yobain. Her husband-to-be is active in leadership of a Presbyterian church in his home village, works in the local school, and is highly respected in the community. Febe’s impact on many people was witnessed to by the number who came from the villages in which she has worked. At one point in the ceremony people were invited to stand and state where they came from, and every campo (i.e. field-work location) Febe had worked in was represented in good numbers. It was obvious that many wanted to share in the celebration and witness to the impact for Christ she had made on their lives.
It is customary for the bride and groom to sit for the worship service in special chairs set up directly in front of the pulpit. The parents of both are also seated in special chairs, two on each side of the couple. My message was to address the entire congregation, but the wedding family was front and center. The service following the worship was simple—an exchange of vows, rings, and prayer. Then there was the processional, throwing of rice, photos, and a gala fiesta with food and music lasting until well after 12:30 a.m., when our party left to drive back to Merida. All in all it was a wonderful celebration of two people who are committed to Christ making a commitment to serve him together.

The next morning, Sunday, Nancy and I went to a special musical service at a small local church in Merida. The music was presented by the choir from the main downtown Presbyterian Church, El Divino Salvador, the choir which Jean Legters accompanies. The presentation was a kind of dress rehearsal for the big Christmas eve presentation in the main church, and was a joy to share in.


After that, in the evening, Nancy went to the church Dave Legters pastors, where there was a traditional Christmas presentation, while I drove two hours out of Merida to take Dave Pluckett to a Presbyterian Medical Clinic in Xochempich, the village in which Dave Legters was raised. Dave’s father was a pioneer missionary who shared ministry and vision with Cam Townsend, the founder of Wycliffe. He lived in the village of Xochempich and was the first to translate the Bible into Maya. The homesite he raised Dave in and from which he worked was later converted into a medical clinic, and Dave Pluckett, who is president of Positive Images, Prosthetics and Orthotics, was going there to consult with two people whom he had fitted with artificial limbs. As I sat outside the clinic in the peaceful calm of a warm tropical evening, I could not help thinking about what Dave was doing as a personal ministry in the name of Christ, literally helping the lame to walk.

What a prelude to Christmas. A joyful wedding uniting two in Christ, a service of songs of praise to the One who was born to give us new life, and a ministry of giving hope and health to the poor in the name of that One. Although Dave and I ran out of gas on the lonely highway back to Merida (another story for another time perhaps), that could not dampen my appreciation and thanksgiving to God for all he continues to allow me to see and do. Truly life in Christ is life In His Adventures.

Yesterday Nancy and I drove to Asheville, North Carolina. Situated on the beautiful Blue Ridge the town is the home of Billy Graham's retreat center, The Cove. It is also the site of the largest private home in the United States, The Biltmore Estate. Constructed by George Vnaderbilt between 1890 and 1896, it has four floors, 250 rooms and a floor space of over 175,000 square feet. Its massive size is obviously impressive, but the attention to detail in every room, plus the meticulous upkeep that has maintained or restored every nook and cranny to its original grandeur, made it quite a site to tour.

But the reason for our visit was the highlight of the day and night away, not the great home. Nancy and I were there as a short time away to celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary. I have known and honored many people who have celebrated 50 or more years of marriage, but 40 isn't too bad.

When people ask about longevity of marriage I first respond with the wisdom shared with me by Dich Scheumann. He said that the key to marital harmony is summarized in two small words, words that every husband needs to learn and repeat over and over, "Yes, dear." And there is more than a grain of truth to that!

But there are other keys as well, with the first being a common commitment to the person of Jesus Christ. When Jesus is the center of any relationship the ego factor is taken out of the middle. No longer is it my will or my idea or my plan versus the other, but it is his will and his idea and his plan. When self-center, for one person or for a couple, changes to him-center, everything changes!

The second thing that I believe creates longevity in marriage is a common commitment to ministry. One of the questions I ask engaged couples is what they can do for God as a couple that neither of them could do alone. Defining that ministry and seeking together to pursue it is a second key.

A third key to long lasting relationships is simple integrity. That means that a promise made will not be broken. If one says to another "I do" and "I will" then integrity calls for that promise, as a word given, to be kept. And those words are exchanged in a wedding ceremony, and need to be kept. Simple!

Marriage is given us by God. It is one of his first and greatest gifts to humanity, and it is one of the gifts most attacked by Satan, because it is so integral to who we are. It is not given to everyone, not even the great Apostle Paul was married, and it is has difficult seasons. But it is often wonderful. It takes humor, grace, attention, and hard work. It requires a willingness to admit one is wrong and an ability to forgive. It means putting another above self, something our culture derides as foolish. It means sacrifice. It means many things and requires much effort--probably more effort than building a 175,000 square foot house. But when it is God's plan for a person, it is worth all the work and effort it takes to make it work...And it is a beautiful thing...

Genesis 2:18 The Lord God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him...then the Lord God made a woman..."

Last week I had the privilege of sharing in a celebration. It was a celebration of the life of a good friend and of the promise of resurrection. That friend was Andy Montana, and he died early Thanksgiving morning after a lengthy battle with disease. Andy was a chemist par-excellence, a university professor and co-developer of a computer-based chemistry curriculum. With a smile on his face he had told me that his motivation for developing this material was, “It is a lot better to blow something up in a computer program than in the chem. Lab.” How true…

It is ironic that at memorial services we learn so much about people we thought we knew well. But usually our data about a person comes from only one slice of their lives, one time or one place. We know them as a teacher or a student or a fishing buddy or a pastor or parishioner or whatever, but there are always other people who know the same person from a different perspective, in a different place and role. And when a memorial service invites people to share memories a whole lot comes out that makes the person much more multi-faceted than we alone could ever know. Such was the case last week as long-time friends and new acquaintances alike shared with all the moments that stood out in their memories of Andy.



Over the years I have been a pastor people have often asked about my feelings regarding performing funerals/memorial services. My semi-stock answer has always been, “I’d rather do a good funeral than a bad marriage any day…” And that is absolutely true—because one is final while the other could be just a beginning of a long and tragic period. But this raises the question, what makes a good funeral? And to me the answer is pretty simple, and it is reduced to three basics.

First, a good funeral is one which remembers someone who has made a positive difference in the lives of those he or she came in contact with. Of course this includes the immediate family cluster, but I look beyond that circle to see how the life we are remembering impacted other people outside the family. And particularly I listen for words from people whose relationship with the deceased reflects an intentional reaching out on the part of the one being remembered. To me this indicates a life that consciously gave to others.

The second thing that I believe makes a good funeral is one in which the things a person is remembered for move beyond the inconsequential. By this I mean that the things noted at a service indicate that the person offered something of substance to the world and other people in it. Gardens are good and golf is fine, but there is more to life than those, and people whose lives intersect with other people at these more substantial points leave behind the most lasting and positive memories. They leave behind impressions and imprints on people that make the living better people than they would have been had the deceased not been part of their lives. And when those things are noted in a service it can be a good one.

The third thing that I believe makes a good funeral is a clear and honest declaration of the motive behind the life that is being honored, and that motive is Jesus Christ. Grief is an important part of a funeral service, and its absence speaks volumes. But the gospel is that death, while a bitter enemy, is a defeated enemy—and defeated by Jesus on the cross and in the empty tomb. Most memorial services reflect some hope in a positive after-life for the deceased, but too often that hope is some vague and undefined feeling. When Christ is honored, on the other hand, hope is grounded in the great reality of resurrection—it is not just wishful thinking but promise-claiming. And when a person has lived a life for Christ and in Christ then through Christ there is resurrection. And a clear affirmation of the deceased person’s faith in Christ and trust in his promises lifts a memorial service beyond one in which the deceased is remembered to one in which the greatest hope of humanity is celebrated.



Because of these feelings, I have a specific form of service that I have usually used, and that I commend as the most helpful and appropriate in a time of loss. The first thing is to have any graveside/internment component prior to the service in the church. The second is to have a short message end the service in the church. It has always seemed to me to be contradictory to move from a church or chapel where Christ’s message and its resurrection hope have been presented to a graveyard. The Scripture of hope and a message of promise should be the last words that ring in the ears of those who attend a service. The eulogies and personal comments are important, as is the emotional symbolism of a grave, but the last word should be resurrection—a celebration of that promise and a challenge to those present to consider their lives in its light.

The words of Jesus, spoken long ago, are the most important words that could be spoken in any memorial service, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.” And the question that he appended to it, “Do you believe this?”, should be echoing in the ears of every attendee as they leave… When that happens, a funeral can be truly labeled a good service.

The last several days have been beautiful. The fall colors are fading a bit, but they are still glorious, the temperature is in the high 60’s and the skies are clear. Each morning arrives cold and crisp, perhaps with frost on the exposed car windows, but as the sun rises the frost retreats and warmth takes over. They say that we are in the midst of a major drought here in North Carolina, with some record keepers indicating that reservoir water tables are at their lowest ever, which is a problem. But the upside is the glorious days, and they are worth appreciating.

A season like this is perfect for cycling, and I have taken advantage of it a bit. Having been blessed with the opportunity to take several fall cycling trips over the years, the Barcelona to London trek Brian and I made in October was wonderful but not unusual. The part that is unusual is that my customary regime on returning from such trips has been to leave the bike in its airline box until the spring—being a fair-weather cyclist that made sense in Seattle. But this time the bike is out, the roads are waiting, and the weather is perfect. I guess that is one advantage of living where we now live.

As I go around the area on my bike I do get to see and feel and smell what the countryside is like, and it is beautiful in this season. It is also dotted with reminders of its history that stand side by side with monuments to the economic growth of the recent decades. Dorothy Silkwood, a dear and wise Calvin friend, once told Nancy that one of the main differences between the west and the east/south is that in the west people define themselves in terms of geography while in the east/south people define themselves in terms of history. That makes a lot of sense to me as I ply the byways near Greensboro—there is just not any geological or geographical grandeur to make a place stand out. But history is here, and that history makes the places impressive. It is history on a grand scale, with sites marking battles in the Revolutionary and Civil Wars and important events in the Civil Rights movement. But it is also history of individuals and families, history that is not in texts but is in lives.


Today I stopped to photograph an old abandoned building. It must have been a farmhouse many years ago, and undoubtedly has a story to tell. Then a few hundred yards farther along the road I stopped to photograph a newly built home. It too has a story to tell, but a very different one I am sure. Neither place is framed by a snow-capped peak nor can one linger on either back porch and admire the beauty of Puget Sound, but in their history each has its interest.


The Hebrew people are a geographical people, a people of the land—a land. They received a specific promise regarding a specific location, and it was fulfilled by God. They are also a people of history. Their existence is rooted in a story that is neither myth nor imagination, but hard and fast facts. Those facts are recited regularly by Jews down to today, and in that recitation an identity is established and passed on. As believers in Christ we are today’s recipients of those promises, and of that history. We are a people for whom place is important—particularly the commonwealth that we are to receive, that culmination of the reality of our citizenship that is in heaven (Philippians 3:20). And we are a people of history. Our identity is defined by history, a history of crucifixion and resurrection, an event that we remember each year at Lent and each time we celebrate the Lord’s Supper. It is also defined by an historical event that we are about to celebrate once again, the incarnation—that is Christmas.

So, as we pass through Thanksgiving into the Advent season, let us remember who we are. Let us remember that we are a people for whom both geography and history are important. We have a place and we have a past—and our future is a fulfillment, a consummation, a destination toward which both point.

Today has been one of those days that are hard to improve on. It began as a cold, crisp and clear fall morning. The sky was cloudless and its rich blue made the colors of the autumn leaves stand out with particular clarity and brilliance. I looked for a corner of our little house that would be a good place to start the day


in quiet reading and prayer, and found it outside, looking at the trees reflecting in the still water of our small pond. It was cold, but sitting on a chair on our new slate covered porch, admiring the wonderful plantings that our landscaper had put in just the week before, seeing that the geese have returned for the winter, and watching the squirrels do their squirrely thing, was just right.
BEFORE AND AFTER LANDSCAPING




Then there was a good church service in one of the several Presbyterian churches that Nancy and I are considering becoming a part of, and after that lunch with daughter and granddaughter. After lunch we all realized that the temperature had risen to just below 70, so a stroll with granddaughter, a visit with a neighbor, then a bike ride through the suburbs, forests and farmlands of this part of the world.

Later today there will be a few small household tasks, dinner and who knows what. But the point is that life is good here in North Carolina. Our recent visit to Shoreline was full of joy for Nancy and me, as we were able to see and visit with many of our good friends there. We miss them and we miss the church there and we miss the beauty of the mountains and the sea. When we left that area we wondered if we would ever live in such a spectacular setting again.

But especially in this season of colors Greensboro is hard to beat. Years ago Nancy and I were in Princeton while I attended Princeton Theological Seminary. I had field work on weekends in a church in Flemington, NJ, a town not far from Princeton. I well remember driving out to the town on fall mornings, watching the red, gold and orange colored leaves billow behind us as we went down the road. That is what it is like here and now. Where we live is quiet, except for airplanes coming in to land in the local airport and leaf blowers moving leaves from lawn to street, (where the city will sweep them up). It is also beautiful—particularly in this season. And as we walk, cycle or just sit at home, that beauty is all around us.



And this beauty reminds me of the nature of God’s creation. God could have made the world simple and practical, but he chose to make it complex and beautiful. He gave us land to till and flowers and trees on that land to enjoy. He gave us food to eat and tastes and aromas that make those foods delicious. He made us one people but male and female with different colors and languages and customs. Moving from the west to the south-east has highlighted some of the differences for Nancy and me. At the same time it has heightened our appreciation for each place. There truly is beauty wherever we are. That is one of the many gifts of God. And we are blessed and we are grateful for that beauty—Praise be to God!

Nancy and I are currently enjoying several days back in Seattle, visiting friends and family. Today we enjoyed a wonderful worship service at Calvin, the church I served for almost twenty years. It was a great time to re-connect with friends, share hugs, and show pictures of our granddaughter and our Greensboro home, as well as to learn about the ways God is working in the lives of people here. While it has been over a year since we left Shoreline, the community that came to mean so much to us has not lost any of its significance to us. Friends with whom we have shared life and ministry for so long and so wonderfully are friends forever, and we are thankful to God for them. Our paths may be different and though we are far apart, as we continue to pray for each other we continue to minister as one!

Since I began posting this blog I have been gratified and affirmed by the feedback which it has elicited. While I have focused on where and what the Ackles are doing, I have tried to make it more than just a "what we did last summer" kind of blog, and comments I have received seem to say that this is appreciated. A component that I have not included, however, is any of the material which I have prepared or am preparing for the various classes which I am teaching. I do not know if this would be of interest to anyone or not, but I am praying about starting to include some of the lessons on the Parables of Jesus, the Letters of Paul, or whatever I am working on. If any reader has feedback on the advisability of this, please use the comment feature on the blog to let me know.

Two days ago Nancy and I took a drive into the Appalachian Mountains, along the Blue Ridge Parkway. This year has been a drought year for North Carolina, but the splendor of God’s creation was still evident. The colors were glorious, the sky brilliant blue and places like Blowing Rock and Boone (as in Daniel Boone) not that crowded. While a brief one-way discussion with a State Trooper over the speed laws in North Carolina did take a bit of the edge off the glory of the day, it was still wonderful. And that negative surprise was counter-balanced by the positive surprise of finding that a specialty of our Carolina BBQ lunch stop was home-made pecan ice cream that is regularly fast-shipped to President Bush’s ranch in Texas. Expensive but truly worth it!



On a completely different note, just for fun the other day I tried a Google search on my name, and I am not so sure it was a good idea. While what I came up with was not as long a listing as many names would produce, everything Google displayed, with one exception, was about one thing. And the few words about that one thing were misleading in their brevity. My search showed that the only thing I am known for, at least in the Google world (and that world is very large), is for court proceedings in which my name, the church, the Presbytery Executive, and Presbytery are associated with sexual harassment.

Now this is not a pleasant association to be appear whenever one searches for my name on the internet, in fact it is downright degrading. And it highlights one of the downsides of internet searching, which is the difficulty of communicating accurately in two lines. After all, after seeing my name associated with such headlines who would bother to explore further? Who would take time to find out the whole truth? Who would leave the search with other than a question or a conclusion based on two lines on a computer screen?

So, I have pondered about what could be done about this. And I have two conclusions. The first is to become so famous that this theme is buried in an avalanche of other, and more interesting information. Perhaps I could do something that would change the world, solve the problem of global warming, or bring peace to the Middle East. That surely would at least add to the mass of articles that the Google algorithm would sift through, and some hits would be flattering. But that probably is not forthcoming—my fault…

The other way is for someone to put the truth into the public arena in such a way that it would draw the search engine to display another set of facts. I would love to see someone publish something like this, “After an exhaustive months-long investigation into allegations made by a colleague, a specially constituted and trained church panel of six men and women, made up of both clergy and laity, unanimously reached the conclusion that the evidence presented with the allegations did not support any charge against Will Ackles.” In the Presbyterian Church anyone can make any allegations against anyone else, but those allegations are then tested by an investigating committee to determine if there is any credibility to them. If there is, then charges are filed. If not, then no charges are filed. The conclusion of the committee investigating Rev. Ackles was that no charges of any kind were in order, and on appeal this was upheld by the next higher court of the church. The second way to counter the impression that Google searching presents would be for those who know these facts to place them in the public arena, but evidently that is not going to happen—not my fault…

So, what is the point of this musing? Simply to underscore the importance of the truth. Simply to encourage all to speak the truth and to counter false or misleading information when it appears--and to do it in ways that are effective in the world in which we now live. I believe that as old as the ninth commandment is it still holds true, and especially true for that thing which is most precious of all to every man and woman—his or her name… The Westminster Shorter Catechism articulated it clearly when it said, The ninth commandment requires the maintaining and promoting of truth between man and man, and of our own and our neighbor's good name, especially in witness-bearing. That may not be the norm in the world, but it ought to be the norm between believers, and in the church.