bierkergaard

Last night in New York City, as Lina walked our usual 2,000 steps (traversing Manhattan is somewhat more interesting than Lancaster), we passed this J.W. house of worship. It was in lock-down. It looked like a bunker.  Since it wasn't Saturday, I suppose it made sense that it was shuttered. But, what does it say about a house of worship that isn't open in a world class city that never sleeps? Theologically, such non-accessibility communicates a reality that we serve an inaccessible part-time God. J.W. have some serious errant teaching. So, the locks and gates convey a God who may be involved or disengaged.   Yet, plenty of Christian churches are practically deserted during the week also. I just don't get why we invest so much money in a property that lays dormant for 95% of the calendar. It really seems like an unwise fiduciary principal. Sort of like having a pick-up truck so that one can haul something once a month. Otherwise, it is impractical. Rent! Don't eve

This quote is attributed to Mother Theresa. A host of burning candles seems to be a powerful image for forgiveness. Candles are very vulnerable to wind, rain, a lack of oxygen, and its own finite resources. Yet, when lit, candles emanate a powerful luminosity that exceeds their limitations. Properly nurtured, a candle is mighty in light and in dispelling the darkness. Forgiveness also appears weak. Returning darkness for darkness seems to be the just way. Yet, how does more darkness see us through? Forgiveness is costly, it burns. We move on. Advent in the Christian tradition is typically celebrated with the lighting of candles. It symbolizes the coming of Jesus into the dark world. I would imagine that their were candles or lamps in the Manger on the night when Jesus was born. The Light of the World....a small flame, yet drawing on the infinite power of the Almighty. Philippians 2:8 And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even

I was in a difficult and protracted situation recently about something I supposedly did over five years ago. The operating presumption of several people was that I indeed was the individual responsible. It wasn't a super serious situation but serious enough that it had to be addressed. I could have accepted the guilt and probably been no worse for wear, brushed myself off, and moved on. But, something did not sit right. So, I would not let the issue fade away. I was insistent, in a civil manner, that we get to the bottom of it. It could turn out that I was indeed the responsible party. The certainty of guilt could be increased or lessened by my willingness to engage the issue until resolution. I was willing to step up and make amends if I was guilty or be absolved. Either way the truth would come out and I had to be certain that I would be OK with either option. Further investigation would must certainly reveal my guilt. Others did not seem inclined to pursue the process of fa

For those of my readers who don't know, my wife Lina is first-generation American. Her parents are from Taiwan. As such, she is maestro with the chopsticks. She does a pulling apart move of food with the chopsticks that one must be of Asian ancestry to pull off. I knew that I was getting the hang of using chopsticks when I was out in California at her parents place and I picked up a peanut. With her dad looking on, I felt like the Karate Kid, getting accepted into the Asian food martial arts academy. I don't think I will ever get to the black belt of pulling food apart with the chopsticks. But as for picking up the food and stuffing my mouth, I do OK. If I had to use chopsticks as a matter of life or death, I could feed myself sufficiently to survive. It is rather second nature by now. I impress my Caucasoid friends at Chinese restaurants with my prowess. There was some initiation I passed when I learned to use the sticks, some acceptance into the Yang clan where I would stil