For God’s Sake Archive

“Michael, lead us in another one of those familiar, old hymns,” the pastor said in the middle of a worship service. I was gripped with fear because I didn’t know any other hymns than those we had just sung, but there was no avoiding his request.

I was the church’s new minister of worship, thrust into that position, so it seemed to me, with no other qualification than I was a musician.

When this column is printed, my wife and I will have just celebrated our 34th wedding anniversary and I can say after these many years, marriage is great!

We were married three months before I entered full-time ministry. The timing was fortuitous because it quickly became apparent that I wouldn’t be worth spit as a pastor without my wife.

One summer, my wife and I vacationed in Newfoundland, where, in addition to trying cod tongues, a disgusting local delicacy, we went on an iceberg cruise.

Local fishermen supplement their income by loading tourists into their boats and deliberately sailing them toward icebergs. Can you say, “Titanic?”

A friend once described the vacations my wife and I take to rural Indiana as “homey.” That is an apt description. Life slows down dramatically, and we get much-needed rest. If you are stressed out or suffering from insomnia, read on.

One recent vacation highlight was daily watching a groundhog venture out to forage for food. The chubby rodent had burrowed under a storage shed behind my father-in-law’s house.

My wife and I just returned from two restful weeks in rural Indiana. For the first time in years, we made the trip by air, flying out of the Destin-Fort Walton Beach airport.

On our departure day, the airline sent a notice encouraging us to arrive 2.5 hours early. Not a problem, we were packed and ready, and our ride picked us up on schedule.

As I write this, my wife and I are preparing to leave for Indiana for a two-week vacation visiting family.

Our goal is to eat lots of vine-ripened tomatoes and sweet corn, and at least one pork tenderloin sandwich.

I was in the first grade at Sacred Heart Catholic school when Sister Eileen read to us from Exodus 16, “The Israelites called the food manna. It was white like coriander seed, and it tasted like honey wafers.”

I didn’t hear anything else she read or said. In my little kid-brain I was scurrying around the wilderness gathering up this mysterious candy God had provided.

The condominium collapse in Surfside was profoundly tragic. Daily news updates only confirmed our worst fears. Hope seemed so very elusive, yet stories of hope did emerge.

The Associated Press ran a story about a 12-year-old girl, who had come to the collapse site because her father and her uncle were residents of that building and had yet to be found.

Recently, I did something that I had purposed I would never do – I engaged a social media post that was obviously intended only to incite.

A friend posted a meme claiming that 56% of conservative Christians reacted in laughable ignorance to a statement that employed a generic word close in spelling to one which was sure to elicit a negative reaction from them.