Dave Zuchelli's Blog, page 44

Staring at the Baby

My lovely bride and I have a new grandbaby. She is now two months old and is pretty special. She’s not our first, but the rest of them are located in Florida (which is a fur piece, as some of us like to say).

That means we get to see her much more than the others (who now range from four to twenty-two years old). Because of her proximity, we’re getting in on the ground floor of her existence (so to speak). This is the first time we’re getting a real opportunity to do that, so we’re trying to take full advantage of it (without being total pests to her parents).

“It verges on the embarrassing.”

Grandma and I were discussing this just yesterday, and we discovered something we have in common. When we’re around her (and in particular, when we’re holding her), we can’t stop staring at her. This is a trend I find unusually weird. The only other time I’ve ever experienced such a phenomenon is when I’ve been in the presence of some drop-dead, gorgeous woman. It verges on the embarrassing.

I don’t know if the rest of you grandpa and grandma types have ever experienced a similar sensation or attraction, but I’m guessing you have. I’d hate to think we’re the only ones with such a fixation, so I’m assuming we’re normal.

When I found out that my bride has the same affliction, I began to think about it more. What is it that makes us want to be staring at the baby so much?

I don’t know for sure, but I suspect it’s the convergence of a lot of things. First of all, she’s ours. There are loads of grandbabies in the world, but this one is ours. Beyond that, however, is (I think) a much deeper appreciation for life at this stage of the game. Being a senior citizen   seems to give one a different perspective.

When I look at her, I’m reminded of all the qualities and foibles of life—especially, new life. She is totally vulnerable and dependent. She embodies innocence and demands full attention at the same time. She is full of potential and a lifetime of choices lies before her. I could list a whole lot more, but I think you get the picture.

“This whole fixation with her causes me to think…”

Being a preacher type, this whole fixation with her causes me to think in a slightly different direction as well. It causes me to ask the question, “What will it be like when we see Jesus?”

If I’m constantly staring at the baby whose diapers need to be changed, who cries when she doesn’t have what she wants, and who spits up on Papa’s new shirt, what will I be like when I see Jesus? He is perfect; he’s the Creator, Savior, and sustainer of the world. He’s all-compassionate, loving, and giving. He gave us the little one who has my rapt attention.

I just can’t imagine. Maybe, as we’re staring at the baby, we’re getting a glimpse of Jesus.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]

The post Staring at the Baby appeared first on Dave Zuchelli.

Cross Words From a Crossword

I do a crossword puzzle every day. It’s something I’ve always enjoyed (a pastime I inherited from my Mother). Beyond the pleasure of conquering the beast, I also think it helps me increase my vocabulary as well as fill in some peripheral knowledge on the blank pages of my mind.

This morning’s puzzle contained the following quip by historian Oswald Spengler: “The stupidity of a theory has never impeded its influence.” In the words of a lesser-known historian, “Truer words were never spoke…” (I’m not sure, but that may have been Li’l Abner.)

It always amazes me how quickly people jump on the bandwagon of anything that sounds remotely clever. If someone comes up with a slick theory, postulation, or saying, it’s as good as gold to many people.

Bumper stickers are a great example of this. There’s bumper sticker wisdom, bumper sticker politics, and bumper sticker theology (just to name a few). For many people, if you can’t fit it onto a bumper sticker, it isn’t worth pursuing.

My favorite one to hate is the “COEXIST” sticker where each letter is the symbol of a world religion or philosophy. The obvious message is that we should all get along (Rodney King would be proud). It has sparked responses that are numerous and equally as clever. I saw one the other day that said, “You Can’t COEXIST With People Who Want to Kill You.” Good point…

It hasn’t stopped there, however. There seems to be a bumper sticker conversation going on with this one. There’s now a sticker with COEXIST spelled out in weaponry. Another uses religious symbols to spell out IDIOTS. Another uses them to spell out FICTION.

There are plenty more, but I’m sure you get the idea. Some of them are not particularly couth, but they’re on bumpers nonetheless. If you get a chance and have a few minutes to kill, look them up on one of the Internet search engines. It will be amusing if nothing else.

More recently, bumper stickers have been used to attack Christian beliefs. Here’s one you can’t read unless the car is motionless and you’re standing right behind it.

“CHRISTIANITY: The belief that some cosmic Jewish zombie can make you live forever if you symbolically eat his flesh and telepathically tell him that you accept him as your Master, so he can remove an evil force from your soul that is present in humanity because a rib-woman was convinced by a talking snake to eat from a magical tree. Makes perfect sense.”

The fact that the author of this sarcasm is wrong on virtually every point doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it’s cleverly worded. Even I (a Bible-thumping Christian) think it’s clever—totally messed up, but clever.

All this leads me to the pièce de résistance (pardon my French) which is, “Bumper Stickers Will Save the World!” My favorite, however, is a bumper sticker that simply says, “Bumper Sticker.” As they say, “Less is more.”

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]

The post Cross Words From a Crossword appeared first on Dave Zuchelli.

Sweat Equity: Hotter Than Hell

Yesterday, I spent a few hours working in an attic. It was ninety degrees outside and about 500° where I was working (give or take). I was soaked with sweat when I was finished.

There’s something satisfying about sweating. I remember watching my Dad working when I was young and seeing him perspire. Sweat beads would trickle down his forehead and drip off the end of his nose. I wanted to be like him.

As it turns out, I inherited his propensity to perspire profusely when I work. I like it because it makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something (whether I have or not).

“Hotter than hell.”

I don’t actually know how hot it was in that attic, but it reminded me of the old saying, “It’s hotter than hell.” The Bible doesn’t give any good indication of how warm that might be, but it can’t be too comfortable. Maybe someone should do a study on that one.

Actually, there are varying views on the whole concept of hell. If you’ve ever read C.S Lewis’ book, The Great Divorce, you’ll quickly discover a view of hell to which most of us never are exposed. For him, it was a dull, gray, lifeless place—a place where there was a lot of meaninglessness. It sounds like hell to me.

I had a professor in seminary who subscribed to that view as well. From his perspective, it was more Biblically accurate than the one we most hear about.

That one we hear the most, of course, is the fiery inferno where Satan, his dominions, and all the not-so-nice folks are tossed in the end. That sounds like hell to me as well.

“Lots of nasty stuff took place in that valley.”

That view comes, at least in part, by Jesus’ use of the term “Gehenna.” Gehenna literally means the Valley of Hinnom which is located on the southern side of Jerusalem.

Long before Jesus made the scene, lots of nasty stuff took place in that valley. Babies were burned as sacrifices to the pagan god, Molech, for example. It was a gruesome business.

That valley swung around and merged with the Kidron Valley on the east side. One of the gates of the city (the Dung Gate) was there. By the time of Jesus, trash was hauled through this gate and dumped into the valley. Like a lot of dumps, it would catch fire and seem to burn endlessly. So when Jesus talked about burning in Gehenna, these were the images that people would see. It’s also why we think of hell as a place of eternal fire.

Whatever hell is, it’s not a place I’d like to be. One thing is for sure. Hell is a place where God is not. To be in hell is to be separated from our Creator. None of us can imagine it because none of us has ever had to endure that scenario. We are constantly surrounded by God’s Spirit.

I think I’ll try to do as much sweating here as possible. Heaven is undoubtedly air-conditioned.

 

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]it

The post Sweat Equity: Hotter Than Hell appeared first on Dave Zuchelli.

Primitive Worship: The Return of the Seventy-Two

Every once in a while, the discussion about worship reemerges. We are separated as Christians by our various worship styles (among other things). Everyone thinks they’re the ones who worship correctly.

Over the years, I’ve heard myriads of teachers expound upon the correct way to worship. That is to say, they try to tell us what the Bible says about the subject. They attempt to answer the question, “What is true Biblical worship?” You know; how does God want to be worshiped?

“Most people probably don’t care what the Bible has to say…”

Worship is one of those hills upon which I’m not willing to die. In other words, I don’t know who’s right. I tend to believe the last person I heard teach on the subject. Then, of course, another one comes along and I believe that one.

The funny thing about all this is that most people probably don’t care what the Bible has to say about the subject. They merely do what they’ve always done and that’s that. They don’t want anyone confusing them with Scripture.

Then there are those who are tied to the liturgy. Some of them don’t give two wits about how Scriptural your worship is as long as you don’t do anything liturgically incorrect.

I remember one Christmas while I was attending seminary, someone placed a wreath at the bottom of the large cross hanging in the front of the chapel. One would have thought it was a sign of the apocalypse. And some of the biggest stink was made by people who weren’t even sure if the Bible was the Word of God. The wreath, according to them, was to be placed at the top of the cross. Horror of horrors!

The joyous return of the seventy-two.

That is merely one of many stories I could relate to you. Suffice it to say, people want worship to be just as they want it to be—period. So, is there a right way, or are we all wrong?

With fear and trepidation, may I refer you to a story in Scripture? Luke 10 tells of the return of the seventy-two. I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately. As you may recall, Jesus sent them out as a sort of advance ministry crew. When they came back, they were joyously sharing their stories of what God had done in the field. Jesus was “full of joy through the Holy Spirit,” praised the Father in Heaven, and shared a word with the seventy-two.

They had a wonderful time that sounds a bit like worship. Many people, in fact, point to this as a time of “primitive” worship. As I look over the passage, the word “worship” was not used. Still, I must agree it appears that’s exactly what they were doing together—corporate worship.

Interestingly enough, I think the only way the word primitive can be applied is if it’s compared it to our worship services today. Since we are obviously sophisticated, what Jesus and the gang did had to be considered as primitive.

Hmmm… So, who does it right?

 

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]

The post Primitive Worship: The Return of the Seventy-Two appeared first on Dave Zuchelli.

Halfway Church

Years ago, I visited a young man who lived in a home called a halfway house. I’m guessing most of you are at least vaguely familiar with these sorts of places. According to Wikipedia, “A halfway house is a place that allows people with physical, mental, and emotional disabilities to learn the social and other skills necessary to integrate or reintegrate into society.”

Its purpose is to help people complete the journey from wherever they were (incarcerated, emotionally unstable, drug addicted, etc.) to a firmer place in society. This, of course, is a noble and worthwhile venture if handled properly. People who stop at one of these for a season are halfway between who they were and who they wish to become.

With that definition in mind, it seems to me that the church should be somewhat of a halfway community. She is that, at her best. In fact, many congregations have established halfway houses in order to better minister to halfway people.

Unfortunately, that definition often doesn’t apply to many of our local congregations. Much of the time, we are more apt to say (whether out loud or under our collective breaths), “These people need to go somewhere else until they get help.” This, of course, is an impolite way of saying, “They’re not going to get any help from us.”

“We have been conditioned…”

In defense of congregations with this mindset, these thoughts come naturally. We have been taught by our culture and society that one needs special training for such things. We have also been conditioned to think that “these people” are not our problems. By adopting such attitudes, we shrink from becoming halfway communities.

The term also has a broader meaning (as in, “doing things halfway”). It often applies to congregations, not only in the circumstances discussed above but in many other circumstances as well. We often do things halfway or in haphazard manners. In other words, we do what we have to do to get by. My Dad used to call that, “getting through by the skin of your teeth.”

My Dad also would describe this condition with another idiom (widely used) that I will not quote here (for reasons of gentility). It began with the word, half, but ended with a somewhat crude term that referred to a posterior part of the human anatomy. This word is also commonly found in the King James Version of the Bible. It is the forerunner of another (more modern) word now used as the symbol of one of our major political parties (hint—not an elephant).

“It’s like fighting a war without the slightest intention of winning it.”

This halfway condition is not an enviable one. It’s like fighting a war without the slightest intention of winning it. It’s like teaching a class without caring if the students actually learn anything.

In short, today’s church often does things in a halfway manner. We do things just to say we do them. Why don’t we try this? Instead of doing lots of things in a halfway manner, let’s do less, but do them right.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]

The post Halfway Church appeared first on Dave Zuchelli.

One Piece of Toilet Paper

I’m sure you’ve heard by now that each of us should only be using one sheet of toilet paper per sitting. If you haven’t, allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your newfound efficiency.

This philosophy is not one I espouse. I do not subscribe to it, nor do I think I could actually pull it off (no pun intended). It seems like it would be a rather messy business (sorry, I couldn’t resist).

As you may have guessed, this is a little habit advocated by the environmentalists among us. I can certainly understand the thinking behind it. I know I could probably save about seventeen trees/year by adopting this practice. Still, I can’t bring myself to attempt it. Old dog, new trick…

You may be asking yourself why a blogger about all things spiritual would write a post concerning toilet paper. Good question. I’m not exactly sure myself, but the whole thought intrigues me. (It also disgusts me, but that’s beside the point.)

“I love ice cream.”

The real point is the fact that so many of us just seem to go to extremes. Take me, for example. I love ice cream. Ice cream is good. If there’s a Heaven (and I believe there is), its freezers are loaded with ice cream.

So if we have a carton of ice cream in our freezer at home, do I pull it out in the evening for a small bedtime snack? Nay, nay! If I go unchecked by my lovely bride, I eat the entire container. This, of course, is ice cream overkill. It’s tutti-frutti to the extreme.

Take a look around you. We seem to do this with everything. We even do this in the church. How do you think we ended up with things like buildings, pews, youth groups, and full-time paid clergy (just to name a few)?

“We’re such extremists.”

When the church began on the day of Pentecost, we didn’t have any of this stuff. Now we have it ad nauseam. My guess is the Apostle Paul would have a stroke if he saw our ice cream mentality.

Paul said in a letter, “When you come together, each of you has a hymn, or a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue or an interpretation.” (1 Corinthians 14:26) Frankly, that sounds way too simple. I guess he forgot to mention the praise band, the coffee bar, and the PA system. We’re such extremists.

By the way, there’s a video on YouTube that gives blow-by-blow instructions on using one piece of toilet paper per bathroom visit. They’ve got a video for everything else—why not this? It’s a bit crude, so don’t watch it if you’ve got a weak stomach. If you can handle the grossiosity, it’s rather informative. I don’t recommend it, but I know some of you are dying to know. Go there at your own risk (but don’t tell them I sent you). I’d give you the link, but I’d take too much ordure for it.

The post One Piece of Toilet Paper appeared first on Dave Zuchelli.

When Friends Go Home

As I was preparing for worship this morning, I jumped onto Facebook to see if there was anything I had missed over the past couple of days. The first bit of news that caught my eye was that an old friend had passed away.

It was not totally unexpected, but the moment we hear these things always seems to catch us by surprise. This one was no exception. I couldn’t find words to really describe how I felt. But now, the words of Obi Wan Kenobi come to mind. “I felt a great disturbance in the force.”

“Few have left the impression upon me that he did.”

When Dave Hampson departed from this earth, his exodus left a sizeable void to be filled. I have known many great men and women of God in my sixty-six years. Few have left the impression upon me that he did.

As I look back, the time we actually shared together was short. Yet, it seems much longer than it actually was—probably because of what we did together. What we did, primarily, was ministry.

“He was a diehard Christian and a resolute human being.”

I’ve never known anyone who expressed more faith in God, who had more of a heart for God’s people, or who so passionately and fervently prayed for God’s will. He was a diehard Christian, and a resolute human being.

We were like day and night. In fact, we were so different from each other I sometimes wonder how we got along at all. In reality, the only thing that bonded our relationship was Jesus. In this case, Jesus was more than enough.

Dave used to make me mad. Looking back on it, I wonder if it was what he did or said or if it was merely some of that Italian blood that runs through my veins. I’m sure I angered him a time or two as well (I’m pretty good at that). But come to think of it, I can’t remember ever seeing him lose his temper. He was as mild mannered as they come.

“Somehow, we seemed to make a good team.”

One of the things we did together was work at summer camps for young people. That’s probably where we were able to shine the most. He was on fire for them to come to Christ and be discipled. I was always the laid back one (so much for the Italian blood). Somehow, we seemed to make a good team. Go figure…

We were the two Dave’s. That’s how some people knew us. In those few short years working together, I like to think we impacted a few lives. I know for sure that he did.

And now, after a long bout with cancer, Dave has gone home to be with Jesus. Outside of Facebook, we never saw each other anymore. We both moved away from Pennsylvania—he to Texas and I to Virginia. I can’t even remember the last time we were in the same place.

Despite the long hiatus from each other, we were brothers. I feel like a piece of my life is gone. You are already missed, old friend.

The post When Friends Go Home appeared first on Dave Zuchelli.

Rookies

A rookie policeman pulled a speeding biker over and asked to see his license. The biker said, “No license. I had it suspended when I got my fifth DUI.”

The officer then asked to see the owner’s card for the motorcycle. The biker replied, “It’s not my bike. I stole it.”

“This motorcycle is stolen,” queried the officer?

“That’s right. But come to think of it, I saw the owner’s card in the tool bag when I was putting my gun in there,” replied the biker. To which the officer asked, “There’s a gun in the tool bag?”

“Yes, sir. That’s where I put it after I shot and killed the dude who owns this bike and stuffed his dope in the saddlebags.

Officer: “There are drugs in the saddle bags too?!?!?”

Biker: “Yes, sir.”

Hearing this, the rookie immediately called his captain. They were quickly surrounded by police, and the captain approached the biker to handle the tense situation:

• Captain: “Sir, can I see your license?”

• Biker: “Sure. Here it is.” It was valid.

• Captain: “Whose motorcycle is this?”

• Biker: “It’s mine, officer. Here’s the registration.”

• Captain: “Could you slowly open your tool bag so I can see if there’s a gun in it?”

• Biker: “Yes, sir, but there’s no gun in it.” Sure enough, there was nothing in the tool bag.”

• Captain: “Would you mind opening your saddle bags? I was told you said there are drugs in them.”

• Biker: “No problem.” The saddle bags were opened; no drugs.

• Captain: “I don’t understand. The arresting officer said you didn’t have a license, stole this motorcycle, had a gun in the tool bag, and that there were drugs in the saddle bags.”

• Biker: “Yeah, I’ll bet he told you I was speeding, too.”

*   *   *

There’s an old saw that says there’s nothing like experience. I remember some of the lessons I learned as a rookie pastor. They were things that I sometimes learned the hard way. Most of them are things I’ll never forget.

One Sunday, after celebrating Holy Communion with one of the congregations I served, I was approached by a woman. She politely made the following suggestion: “On days we have communion, please make sure you wash the cologne from your hands before you leave the parsonage.” Apparently, cologne doesn’t taste all that good on communion bread.

“I would rather be in the coffin…”

Another time, I thought it would be a good idea to get more of the laity involved in the worship service. Without any forethought, I called on one of our more active folks to lead us in prayer. She haltingly did so, but not before staring a hole through me. This was prior to my learning that most people fear public speaking more than death itself. Jerry Seinfeld once remarked concerning this phenomenon that most people would rather be in the coffin than delivering the eulogy.

If you’re currently a rookie at anything, please rest assured. You will make a fool of yourself at some point. It’s okay. You’re gaining experience.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]

The post Rookies appeared first on Dave Zuchelli.

Allergic to Church

Basic demographics (around the area in which I live) show that about eight percent of the people will head off to a worship service on any given Sunday. Eight percent… I heard someone say recently that people are allergic to church. 

I remember years ago living in an area where that figure was fifty-five percent, and I thought that was bad. The other side of that coin, however, was the fact that it presumably left a lot of room for new converts to the faith. As Scripture indicates, the fields are ripe for harvest.

“They always had at least one partner.”

When Jesus sent out his seventy-two advance men (Luke 10), he told them to pray to the Lord of the harvest to send workers into the field. The thing that strikes me about these seventy-two was the fact that he sent them in pairs. No one was left to fend for themselves. They always had at least one partner.

One of the problems we face in today’s church is the feeling that we’re all alone. Think about it. If ninety-two percent of your neighbors are non-church going folks (for whatever reason), it’s pretty easy to feel like the deck is stacked against you. Once that feeling strikes, it’s a short path to despair. Despair can be the crushing blow that makes us think, “What’s the use.”

If there’s no use in trying, we fall into some very apathetic habits. Some of us actually join the ninety-two percent.

If the church is supposed to be anything, it’s supposed to be a community. The early church demonstrated to the surrounding culture what a real community should look like, how it would act, and why they were like they were. The one striking feature of that early community was their love. Their neighbors were quoted as saying, “How they love one another.”

What gives credence to the words we say?

If we’ve lost anything in today’s church, it’s that tremendous sense of community. We’ve replaced it with a lot of things—programming, high-tech worship, and modern buildings to name a few. The problem is there’s no replacement for a close-knit, intimate group of folks. It’s what the Holy Spirit uses to bind us together. It’s what speaks to the world around us, giving credence to the words we say.

One of the main reasons we aren’t close to our church family (if we can call it that) is that we choose to be isolated. Many of us don’t even know our next-door neighbors. We’d rather be left alone. That attitude bleeds over into our relationships in the local congregation. We’re cordial enough, but we’d still prefer not to be bothered.

The result of all this is the sad fact that we’re not what we were created to be. The church in such a state is no longer the church. She becomes some sort of service club at best.

Relationships are at the heart of our existence. Ignore them, and we’re lost. Nurture them, and we’ve got a good chance of impacting the harvest.

 

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]

The post Allergic to Church appeared first on Dave Zuchelli.

Organic Dry Cleaning

A couple years ago, my lovely bride jumped onto the “March Against Monsanto” bandwagon. This, of course, meant that I too jumped on the dray along with her. I was a tad more reticent than she, but who’s counting?

We slowly learned how to cut Monsanto out of our lives (sort of). The dreaded chemicals we always lived with have gradually (and sometimes painfully) faded into the sunset (or more aptly, into the rearview mirror) of our lives.

The biggest part of this new lifestyle has been the inclusion of organic foods into our diets. This can only be a good thing (if you don’t count the fact that our grocery bill is now three times what it once was). But don’t get me wrong. This new direction in culinary acquisitions suits me just fine.

“The word, conventional, has become anathema to me.”

I really like being fat and happy. Now I’m fat and happy AND healthy all at the same time. Maybe fat and healthy don’t actually fit together, but we’re working on that one.

Since I do most of the grocery shopping, my senses have become acutely in tuned to the word, organic. These days, every time I see that word, I’m drawn immediately toward the product that’s labeled as such. In turn, the word “conventional” has become anathema to me. (In case you’re not familiar with the current usage of the term, conventional, it’s now used to describe any veggie or other food product that doesn’t fit into the organic camp. Who knew?)

Recently, I was driving by a shopping center and noticed a peculiar sign in one of the windows. The sign read, “Organic Dry Cleaning.” My non-conventional antennae went up, and I’ve been thinking about that ever since.

I totally understand organic foods. After all, who wants to put something into their body that’s going to preserve them like a pickle? However, the significance of organic dry cleaning somehow escapes me. I don’t lick my clothes when they return from the cleaners, so I’m not sure how this helps. Besides, we don’t want to run Monsanto totally out of business, do we?

“It can’t be that we’ll be using organic Bibles.”

I’m waiting for all of this to hit the church, and I’m wondering how it will impact us. It can’t be that we’ll be using organic Bibles. We’ve already gone digital on those. I don’t think it will affect the building materials we use to construct our sanctuaries. We’re pretty organic in that area already (think wood).

The only things that come to mind at this point are the candles. A lot of us still use those. I’m sure there must be some organic tapers out there somewhere. If we’re going to be carrying the light into the world, it would behoove us to do it in a non-conventional way.

This, of course, brings us to the ultimate question. What would Jesus do? I’m quite sure he would have used Mrs. Goldberg’s Organic Candles scented with natural essential oils. I’ll check the Scriptures and get back to you on that one.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]

The post Organic Dry Cleaning appeared first on Dave Zuchelli.