Crosses...

  
  A crucifixion in the Roman Empire served to kill and to humiliate.  When Jesus died on the cross, he transformed this emblem of death into a gateway to life for us at great cost to himself as God's own Son.

As the Seasons Change, may we each be renewed in the Spirit, inspired and empowered to leave a favorable touch upon the hearts of every person with whom we interact while there is yet the opportunity to do so...

  Pat Bunyea and Sue Eversole today shared a story which Pat had previously written during our "Time for Children" at St. John's, Bridgewater.  In short, it was about giving and receiving a cherished blanket and being "wrapped" in Love.
  At the end of the time together, they distributed little packages with "Hershey Kisses" and then shared an encouragement to share some with people whom the children love.
  During Holy Communion distribution, Pat's Great Granddaughter, Sarah, handed me her candy morsel, still wrapped, and I placed it among the Communion Host on the Paten.  I gazed upon this offering there among the mystery moments of the Eucharist.
  And it was then that I hoped I will long remember a young woman's fitting response to the Salvific LOVE of the Savior revealed in Worship.

So...

  I have prayed and agonized about all the various conflicted, acrimonious, and often contradictory positions with regard to the violence, seemingly unique, to the United States.

  As I have prayerfully reflected, considering all the unspeakable heartache and loss in recent years, I'm persuaded that we must be in a position to pray for and to call for renewal and revival.  Seeking the Triune God for Direction may be the key to restoration, genuinely helping the hurting, and finding authentic peace...

Heartbroken but Hopeful,
+DM

  Around this time of year, I remember my Dad and I walking to the pharmacy in New Rochelle.
It was just he and I when I was in the third grade.
  As the trips continued, his levity transformed from talk about cotton buds falling from a snowful sky to just getting through...
  Dad eventually was hospitalized close by Columbia University, NYC, where he was doing a Masters Program in music while teaching at Isaac Young Jr. High across from our apartment.
  I think of that special time spawned of peril to Dad's health when the cotton buds fall from the sky.

February Snow

So...
  For years now I have hated snow. 
  I vaguely remember the joys of childhood snows when I catch a glimpse of children at play - like today.
  But for the most part, it just complicates the "adult" work I do...
  And then it has to be said that snow (the other four letter word) provides opportunity to be involved in the lives of others.
  I learned years ago that as a pastor one never wants to sound heroic, and I have striven to keep that as guidance.
  So today I will simply write that God nudged me to reach out twice this evening...
  May tomorrow bring us each a brighter, more warmer day...

Dear Friends,
     Based on a Reading from Matthew 5, I was encouraged from a post I revisited that was written six years ago.  The writer encouraged readers to establish a "Salt & Light Blog."
     This is a good platform for launching such. For the time being, you may respond to this invitational posting by simply sharing a time you have noticed someone serving as hospitable salt or illuminating light for another...
     Better yet, when have you served as such? - by taking seriously what Jesus has said about Followers:  "You are salt of the earth... (and)...You are the light that gives light..."
     Please bless others by sharing your experiences of the Profound Touch of God in these challenging times...
+Drex

Independence Day and the Most Profound Joys...

So for those of you who hung in there with me until I could get back to this endeavor, here's my reflection written mostly in my head from yesterday, Independence Day, 2016.

We left downtown Washington D.C. for some unknown reason and as day ebbed into night, my Mother read a kid's book about packing for travel which contained the line, "Oops, I almost forgot my toothbrush; I can tuck it right inside..."

I was probably six years old.  Sometime during the night as we traveled to "Sugar" (Grandmother's) house in Southern Virginia, the generator went out, and our car ground to a halt in front of the old Country Store with a screen door and a proprietor preparing to close.  The "Rainbow Bread" blond little girl smiled at me from the ad on the door, and I knew that at some level everything would be OK.  My Dad persuaded the guy who was closing his store to let him make a phone call.  "Reverse the charges," no doubt.  And in the darkness of the night, my Uncle Bill would begin to make his way toward us to haul us to Grandmother's...

Fast forward a few days to Independence Day.  Before and after that particular year, we would all plop down on a hill in Arlington, Virginia, and watch as best we could the fireworks trying to climb their way above the Washington Monument from the Mall below.  The parents did this to avoid traffic jams, which were mild then in the late 1950's when measured by today's standards...

At "Sugar's" house, things were simpler.  In the dark of night on her rural hill, we played with sparkler's that were twice the length of modern versions and lasted seemingly forever.  There was never a worry then about precaution, and we fearlessly threw 'em up into the shadows of the night like fiery swords...

"Sugar" and Granddad had vocabulary unique to their home place.  Skunks were "polecats," and fireflies were "lightening bugs," and will always remain so with me...  Which brings me to the most profound joy.  On Independence Days in the intervening years, forget fireworks...  Give me acres of Lightening Bugs, like those on the field-carpets - undulating pinpoint lights I saw on Monday evening a week ago just past dusk along Austin Road in Saline Township.

Last evening, while people played with a myriad of explosives, I quietly sat and watched pinpoints of light rise with the sweet warmth of the evaporating light and wander-wave toward the heavens.  I watched them with wonder from the very porch from which children and the occasional grandchild would chase their ancestors with jars and high hopes of catching a few.  I found the most profound joy in simply remembering all of the above in a rush of minutes punctuated by the most wondrous sight of wandering pinpoints of flame, the the Creator's best display on this particular Independence Day.

If one looks closely above...   ;)

My son, Joseph, would allow only one handshake photo...
A "GradShake" photo!  We're proud of his hard work...

The Sixth Sunday of Easter will bring us ever closer to the advent, the coming, of the Holy Spirit's full sway.  The gift we have been given to open is the gift of a "fresh start" in Jesus, a Future unfolded by the Spirit when we yield to such.  The challenge I am presenting to myself right now is to privately enumerate those things of which I am most fearful.  What do I dread most?  And am I willing to let the Spirit deal with it all?

The First Letter of John 4:18 encourages us:
"There is no fear in love.  But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. the one who fears is not made perfect in love." (NIV)

This quote begs for much "unpacking," but right now it is sufficient to say that we are challenged to reflect God's heart by being immersed and by radiating the warmth of the One who reached to pluck me (and you) out of sticky clay and Who gives us the means to pluck up others as well...

Mortarboards are decorated in celebration.  Pictured are Joe Morton processing from Graduation Ceremonies on Sunday, April 24, 2016, at the Eastern Michigan University Convocation, accompanied by a mortarboard declaring, "Finally!"

Graduation Day

Graduations are always tough for me.  They always mark the passage of time that progresses all too quickly.  So yesterday was Joe Morton's graduation from Eastern Michigan University with a degree in Business Administration.  We had an extended family meal with family and close friends who have been family for over 20 years.  The guest of honor (beyond Joe) who helped us with the planning and purposing was Elin Alexander, a distance runner from Chicago who has come to have a special place in Joseph's heart.  So another young woman has seemingly stolen away another of my sons, but this is a double loss, because it was Joe who urged me to begin "the run" again.  A high point of our running last year was one run in Maybury State Park when we ran for about three hours plus on the trails, and then he continued on with Josh Bonno for another four in preparation for a 50 mile run in Northern Michigan.  It was on that particular organized trail run in August when "lightening struck," and he met Elin. Both of them had won their age group categories, and the rest is history.

This history brought us all to the Convocation Center yesterday, where those matriculating walked, heard a rousing and Faith based speech, turned their tassels, and became alumni in the blink of an eye.  Things have changed a bit.  Students now decorate the tops of their mortarboards rather lavishly, some garishly; however, some things don't change...  Time evaporates for me at moments like this, and I remembered when my Dad and I received degrees at Louisiana State University almost simultaneously in 1974.  I recalled the warm spring day in 1987 when I left the cocoon of Seminary and flew off into almost 30 years of ministry.  I was suddenly back at the Chapel of the Abiding Presence, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and one of my favorite professors, Dr. Nieting, who had been a missionary to the Far East, seemed genuinely pleased for me.  He had taught me well to appreciate the Letters of the New Testament.

Graduations remind me that time is waning for me to make a difference in this world.  And I wonder whether there are things that I've missed, people I've overlooked, and I begin to miss my adult children even more, knowing that when they became almost finished products and were decent to have around, they, too, began flying forth from cocoons of our own making...  

Over the last three months, we were devastated and had to say a temporal good-bye...

...But we've also been able and blessed to say a temporal hello...

The "Lion and the Lamb" are in close proximity...  On Veterans Day, the cat who "owned us" for 13 years (She was close to 15 in years.) left us for the place where faithful companions are gathered.  On the Sunday after Christmas, Son Joseph rescued for us a similarly appearing young cat about a year old.  This rescue is in full possession of a tail - unlike the last, who lost hers in an encounter with some sort of machinery.  This family addition and her canine companion have learned to co-exist. What more can one hope for?

Psalm 34:8 (NIV)

Tomorrow I will have the privilege of leading Worship among the Faith Family of St. John's Lutheran Church in Bridgewater, MI, where there is no bridge and no water...just very caring people who love Jesus and who wish to serve the LORD, spread "good news" of His Love, and see to His ever-expanding Rule and Reign.  Join us on any given Sunday, and "...Taste and See that the LORD IS good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him..." (New International Version)

January Beginnings

It's 2013, and the "ugh" finally caught up with me.  I don't think it's the flu, because I've had the flu twice during the last 27 years and felt so much worse.  The first time I could barely stand, and the latter time I recall being as weak as kitten and sharing my remorse with an attendant at the Christmas wedding for which I was presiding.  He observed that he was headed straight home, missing the reception, as a new recipient of that year's bug.

Having said that, I still don't feel all that well and hope the quantity of fluid that is lurking around my head will soon vanish.  My voice is unreliably full of gravel, and a pastor without voice is like a fire fighter without a reliable hose.  Nonetheless, I am reminded of my own mortality, ever-present shortcomings, and I'm keenly aware that I need to make the most of every precious moment of life.  One of my Father's favorite songs before he died was, "I Hope You Dance."  Dad knew how to celebrate in ways that still evade me, and I'll have to take my cue from him...

Happy New Year one and all, and remember what one writer wrote:  You can give up all those New Year's resolutions for Lent - in just a few short weeks of growing daylight.

A Heartfelt Thanks...

I wish to humbly thank those who "wrote in" the name "Drexel Morton" for the 11th District Seat in the US House of Representatives.

Throughout the Primary Season I met many gracious people who are deeply concerned about our future.  This includes Nancy Cassis and her husband, persons who sacrificed their retirement leisure time to serve the common good.

Kudos to the Cassis family for their love of Community and Country.

This is only the beginning for me, because I now have a public voice that I intend to utilize in the days to come.  I intend to speak for those who may feel they have no voice and are somehow lost in the avalanche of special interest, PAC massive expenditures that place people in positions of influence, when, in actuality, we need "citizen servants," who will represent consituents and not the special interest groups.

Please join your voices to mine - post your support - as we move forward...one prayer and one encouraging word at a time...

Drexel Morton -

+Drex  :)

Letter Written on the 25th Anniversary of My Ordination

Dear Sisters and Brothers,

     If you walk out into our Memorial Garden at All Saints Lutheran Church, you will see the placement of several Memorial Bricks placed in perpetual memory of Cherished Ones.  In many cases we suggest placing Memorial Brick Pavers in honor of our Beloved Ones who may have been buried or memorialized elsewhere.  Placing a Memorial Brick Paver in the All Saints Memorial Garden may also serve as a reminder of your unique touch and involvement in the life of our Faith Family. 

     Please consider doing such, and speak with either Dennis or Carol Strong in that regard.  Either will give you complete details with respect to memorializing the persons of your choice in this permanent way.  Come, “watch our garden grow!” 

     Over almost the last two years, I’ve had the privilege of watching our Memorial Garden bloom and change with the change of the seasons.  Members of our Memorial Garden Committee are continually endeavoring to insure our garden is a place of sanctity, peace, and beauty.  Watching the garden change with the move of the seasons is an ever-present reminder that our lives move ever forward, that time is precious and to be redeemed, even in those moments when it seems as though time is standing still.

     That reminds me to remind us each that summertime is a fleeting thing in Michigan.  “It’s been a scorcher,” as my maternal grandmother used to say, but don’t forget to read a new devotional, study some Scripture, get together with loved ones, and hug such.  Time with those whom we treasure is fleeting and precious.  At home, in our many communities, among those who worship the Triune God, may we remember to make the most of every moment. 

     Even as I write this on July 19, I recall my Ordination into Word and Sacrament Ministry exactly 25 years ago as I write.  I’m here to assure you time seems to accelerate the longer you live…  Tomorrow my mother will celebrate her 87^th birthday, and I hope to remind her in some way that her life has been one of great worth.  To build one another up is what Jesus would have us do.

     Included is a photo of a Brick Paver in Memory of my dad.  The Ones we Love are never really lost to us, for the Touch of their Love goes on… 

     Don‘t forget to participate and to “Come watch our Garden Grow!”

In Christ,

Pr. Drex

The community of Aurora, Colorado, the victims of the early morning horrific events at the theater, and the families and friends of each deserve our fervent prayers in this solemn hour.  The President of the United States reminded us this morning from Florida that in moments of tragedy and heartache we are one nation. He also reminded us in subdued tones that our lives are fragile, limited and that he would be able to hug his daughters a little more tightly this evening while others cannot. My youngest son, Joe, was at the very midnight screening at a theater in our own community. I intend to hug him a little more tightly, too.
Hug your loved ones; be kind to those whom you encounter. Permit compassion to overshadow hatred and things we do not understand.