St. Bernard of Clairvaux was born into nobility in 1090 and died at 63 in 1153.   He was of the castle of Fontaines near Dijon.  After the death of his mother, his desire to serve God led him into monastic life.  AA did not come up with the first 12 step program; St. Bernard listed 12 degrees (steps) to the mountain of pride and 12 steps to humility.   Today we will look at his 12 steps up the mountain of pride and the twelve steps down to humility.  I will paraphrase and attempt to apply these steps to my life and perhaps yours.

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Is there a class for humility?  If I really want to be a humble person, shouldn't there be a class?  I have two master's degrees and a doctorate and have never had a class on humility. Seminaries and churches have failed me in this area.  I mean, it would be great to have a certificate on my wall that validates my humility.  Of course, the certificate would be from an unbiased source.  No one would have to ask if I am humble; I could just nod toward the certificate.  I could place it on the wall with my degrees.  Maybe just below or above the doctorate one. Yeah, that is a good spot.  What if I am out of the office? Perhaps a card, a recognizable pin, I will think of something I always have great ideas.

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I write this and broadcast this as an American Citizen, a Veteran of nearly seven years, and a Veteran who held a Top-Secret Clearance in the United States Air Force. While in the military, I saw and heard of heroics, and I also saw the waste and intoxicating spending in units. I watched from the Flightline in 1973 as the POWs who were flown from Hanoi to Clark AFB in the Philippines disembarked planes from February to late March. I wept as, one by one, they descended the stairs doing their best to stand straight and tall. Never was I prouder of my country than that day. It had nothing to do with whether I was for the war or against the war; it was a celebration of brothers coming home, some after seven years of captivity and torture. 

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It is more than love at first sight; it is love at first word--pregnant. I still recall where I was and can vividly see Debbie stopping by my workplace with that beautiful smile on her face. I knew before she said it, and I already loved that unborn babe. Months went by, and love continued to grow for the yet-to-be-named baby. Debbie and I were fortunate enough to experience the birth of two children. Once I saw them, once I looked into my daughter's face and later my son, my heart instantaneously swelled with love that couldn't be contained. Love for a child is beyond my ability to verbalize it.

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Theme Word for the New Year

2022 is here.  After the last two years, I feel like backing into the year very slowly.   I don’t think our world has felt so vulnerable since September 11.

I read with interest a blog by a good friend, Pastor Andy George, today.  The title was “Why a theme word is better than a resolution for the new year!”  It made a lot of sense to me.  2021 has been a difficult year for me and so many others.  As I thought about what my word should be, my theme for 2022, I realized that I had spent far more time in worry and anxiety than in prayer.  Not a good thing.  I feel like a mess crawling toward him, but always am delighted to see Him running toward me.  His love knows no bounds for His people.

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Defending WV against the elitist assumptions and condemnations.

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Mary the Mother of our Lord!

In my tradition I don't believe Mary is given the attention she deserves.  She is a model of discipleship and a wonderful model for women and men alike.  Why do we avoid her when Luke gives her such a prominent space in the Advent Narrative?  Let's not make that mistake this Christmas.
 

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It was a snowy morning in the mountains of West Virginia. My eleven-year-old eyes were fixated on the flakes as they fell on the barn. I was itching to get out into the snow and head for that barn with my dog Ladie. The fact that Christmas was just around the corner added to the excitement. 

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The house is quiet.  We crawl through the attic, facing dust bunnies, spiders, and our own heartache.  A loved one is gone.  We are now searching for hidden treasure, perhaps of little value to others, but a reminder that our loved one lived, laughed, and stored things away!  Then we discover a shoebox.  Just an ordinary shoebox.  But when it is opened, HIDDEN TREASURE!  Old photos and little things gathered over the years as tokens of extraordinary days.  We laugh, we cry, we laugh again.  The loved one is still touching us and still impacting our hearts.  Still making us laugh.

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I have observed with many of you that our beloved country is becoming more and more intolerant. Progressive, yes, but very intolerant of a non-progressive idea, belief, religion, or anything that is an insult to the acceptable progressive view. I realize we have come a long way, baby, but in the wrong direction. Progressive ideas, no matter how weird or outlandish (and you can put your own list here), are accepted as gospel, and well, the Gospel is rejected.

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