An Easter Godwink in Switzerland

The entrance sign to the International Church of Lucerne

Some might call it a coincidence. I choose to call it a Godwink!

After the first of the year, my wife and I were contacted about possibly serving the International Church of Lucerne in Switzerland. Their pastor had just retired and they were looking for someone like to me to provide pastoral leadership for three months until the new pastor from The Netherlands would arrive. 

The opportunity was too good to pass up. In addition to seeing a new part of the world, accepting the job would allow me to do what I love. Having recently retired, I was excited to be able to preach again.  And on Easter Sunday no less. After all, Easter Sunday is my very favorite occasion to lead God’s people in worship. For me it’s the most important day in the Christian calendar.

About the time I accepted the invitation to go to this English-speaking congregation in the Alps, something else was happening I knew nothing about. The headmaster of Whittier Christian High School in Southern California was finalizing the itinerary of a study tour in Europe for his students, staff and parents.

When Carl Martinez learned from the travel agency that his group would be in Lucerne on Easter Sunday, he went on an internet search to see if there was an English-speaking congregation in the city. Upon discovering the International Church of Lucerne online, he contacted the church who extended a gracious invitation to join them.

As Wendy and I prepared to leave for Switzerland, the church chairman let me know that my third Sunday in Luzern would be a rather unusual one. She indicated that the size of the congregation would likely double with a school group from the United States attending ICL for Easter worship.

When I learned the name and location of the school that would be coming, I was immediately intrigued. My wife Wendy had taught at Whittier Christian School forty-eight years ago. What were the odds that a group like that would be worshipping with us during our short stay? I couldn’t help but wonder if one of the parents or faculty traveling with the group might have been a student in my wife’s third grade class back in 1976.

After landing in Switzerland, I began to work on the details for Easter Sunday at ICL. I decided to Facetime with the headmaster of the Whittier School. I expressed delight that his group would be joining us to celebrate Christ’s resurrection. I also indicated my wife’s connection to his school. Mr. Martinez told me that although the campus at which my wife had taught had closed some years ago, it was entirely possible that one of the parents or staff from his group might have attended Wendy’s school at the time.

I told Mr. Martinez that we were looking forward to having a group from Southern California with us. I related our family’s connection to the area. My wife’s ninety-three year old parents have lived in Orange County for over fifty years. Additionally, I told him that my wife’s brother lives in Yorba Linda, California and attends the Evangelical Free Church there.

“Wait!” Mr. Martinez interrupted. “Your brother-in-law is a member of the Free Church in Yorba Linda? That’s where I’ve attended for the past twenty years. What’s his name?”

When I told Mr. Martinez my wife’s brother was Dave Steven, he informed me they were part of the same men’s ministry. It was simply amazing! Of all the hundreds of churches there are in Southern California, how likely would it be that this headmaster who was bringing his school group to our church in Switzerland was part of my brother-in-law’s church?

Before we hang up the headmaster said, “Oh there’s one more thing, Pastor Greg. You might be interested in knowing that our original itinerary had us in Stuttgart on Easter. A recent change means we’ll be in Lucerne.”

Looking back, I discovered that the travel agent for the school group made the change in their itinerary about the time my wife and I were contacted about serving the congregation in Switzerland. He knew nothing about the church or the church’s interim pastor. And how appropriate! Easter is all about unexpected turns of events that find us scratching our heads in amazement.

Forsaken by God

A Good Friday meditation originally published in the Pentecostal Evangel in April 1990

Deserted. Forgotten.
Stood up. Let down.

“Forsaken, my God, by You. Why?”

A piercing cry from swollen lips
by one hung out to die.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

A shepherd king first complained these words while
being hunted,
being sure that God was on his side,
being sure he’d been anointed.
But confused and disappointed,
he hung his head.
He closed his eyes and prayed.

Drained of strength (too pained to sleep)
he smelled the scent of death. (His own).
He heard the sounds of enemies approaching:
the scoffing jeers,
the searing jokes of sneering folks.

The wounds of words were indistinguishable from
the agony of betrayal:
Betrayed by friends.
Betrayed by loyal subjects.
Betrayed by God?
Where was this God in whom the king had trusted?

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

This time the same cry is heard beneath a Roman cross.
Not from a shepherd who would be king,
but from a King who called Himself a Shepherd.

A Worker of wood.
A Worker of good.
A Worker of words.
A Worker of wonders.
A Worker who wonders,
“Where’s the One with Whom I’m one?”
Somehow, some way
the questioning cry of King David seemed appropriate
from his Son a thousand years thereafter.

A Man of Sorrows
acquainted with grief,
acquainted with alienation,
rejected by an innkeeper,
maligned by His own brothers,
misunderstood by “the righteous,”
forgotten by the five thousand miraculously fed,
framed by the fickle crowd
whose palms lay withered…dead.

In addition,
He was betrayed by one He had helped.
He was deserted by another who promised,
“Though all others flee, I always will stand true.”

Like David of old.
Like you and me.
He knew rejection’s pain.

But God forsaken?
Surely not!
Not One who came from heaven.
Not One who claimed God’s name.

All the same,
hear the words ascribed to Him
by those who heard Him speak.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Of all the pain inflicted…
the crown,
the whip,
the nails,
the loneliness of friendship failed,
the ridicule from those for whom He came.

Yet of all the pain inflicted,
the worst was when for one brief moment
God the Father turned away from His suffering Son
(agonizing for His Son)
He watched and wept for a while.

But a holy God could not allow Himself to gave upon
the cross,
the loss of innocence,
the sin of all people
of all places
of all time past, present and future
placed upon His perfect Son.

As in the day of David,
the crowd looked on
to watch and wag their heads.
But not the Father
who closed His eyes and turned His back
and heard His begotten pray…

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Yet forsaken not forever.
Amid the rumble of the thunder
and the darkness of the day,
the Son was heard to whisper words
which offered hope before He passed away…

“Father, into Your hands I commit my Spirit.”

He knew that God was there
strangely satisfied with what He’d seen
(and what He couldn’t see)
all present and accounted for.

The forsaken Son
(forsaken no longer)
with confidence looked up
and reached out
to you and me.

That lonely separation
(albeit all so brief
yet altogether all sufficient)
means that we never have to voice that ancient question

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

The Jet Lag Blues

This photo illustrates the challenges of international travel when it comes to sleep

When you fly quite far across the sea,
you move through zones of time.
Your body begs. It longs to sleep
as does your weary mind.

But if you crash and close your eyes,
you’ll wake while others dream.
This jet lag curse is nightmare-like.
At least that’s how it seems.

A wretched zombie you’ve become.
You’re like the walking dead.
You’re short on sleep, but long for more
while tossing in your bed.

When will it stop? This misery.
When will this lagging end?
In time, dear one. Wait patiently.
For time will be your friend.

It just takes time to end the curse
and feel human again.
But when? You wonder. How much time?
Dear Lord, please answer. When?

A Prayer for My Fire Department

The following is the prayer I gave at our fire department’s awards dinner

In light of the fact that this week marks the 120th anniversary of the birth of Theodor Geisel Dr. Seuss, I offer this invocation in the spirit of the good doctor.

Creator God,
for those who fight fires
and those who save lives,
for those who retrieve cats
in trees way up high.

For those who administrate
recruit and train,
for those who crunch numbers
amid losses and gains.

For chaplains who comfort
the grieving and scared,
for dispatchers and clerks
and the heartache they’ve shared.

For evenings like this when
we honor our own
and pause to remember
by what we are known:

Our selfless devotion.
The power of we.
The service we render
to help others be
assured of our care
when their world’s crashing in
with questions of why?
What and where? How and when?

For these things
and for the food we are about to eat,
Good Lord, we give You thanks. Amen.

The Sad State of Our Union

The state of our union as a nation is troubling

The state of our union
is fragile at best.
We’re polarized, fractured
and flawed I confess.

The “wall” we have funded
with distrust and hate
runs right through our nation
dividing our states.

This “wall” of our making
demeans who we are.
It keeps us from hitching
our dreams to a star.

Securing our borders
(while needful and right)
is far less important
than ending this fight.