bierkergaard

Today, when I was completing the author biographical information for my book on Book Baby, I was tempted to list Lancaster, Pa. as my hometown. But, it really ain't the case. I live in Columbia, Pa., about 8 miles West, towards the river, with the van, a la Chris Farley. Columbia has seen better days. Lancaster is more literary. Columbia is more litter. Columbia missed being the nation's capitol by a vote. Since then, like most river towns that have not developed a commerce district, it has fallen on hard times. Now, it is a town of yesterdays and no tomorrows beyond the grace of God. I like to think it is like where Jesus was from...Nazareth....can anything good come from there? Here? I have toyed around with living in Lancaster city. As far as Central Pa cities go, it is the beautiful one. York, Reading, and Harrisburg, are towns that never were and never will be. Again, unless the grace of God falls down like rain. There is not much in these places that show human est

Psalms 42:7 Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me. I have been sleeping with my Bible on my bed for the last month. It blesses me to be close to it in the night. I have been delving a lot into the Psalms recently and have found great comfort. Psalms is one of those books in the Bible that we know but don't know. So many of our songs in the Church have their origins in the Psalms. Makes sense because many of the Psalms were written to be songs. The Psalm above (Ps. 42:7) sounds threatening, and most commentators see it that way. I disagree. God's drowning, as in Baptism, sinks sin like a wicked slave ship going to take people captive, to the bottom of the sea. No great loss there.   I love the nature settings of the Psalms....the heavens, the sun, the stars, seas, streams, mountains, all declaring the glory of God. In our McWorld that has been subdivided, concretized, franchised, laced with lights and blurry b

In a continuation of yesterday's blog on the people of Nazareth dissing Jesus. "Yo' miracle man, hook me up." The Bible is pretty blunt that those in the crowd were punks. They wanted Jesus to deliver miracles as Papa John delivers pizza. And they treated him like a pizza delivery boy. I have a friend who delivers pizza. He works another job, he goes to grad school. He is just taking care of his bills. He notes that richer the people are as a rule, the fancier the house, the nicer the car, the ruder and less generous tippers they are. Asses. So, Jesus tell the crowd that they are an unappreciative bunch. He calls them out. They don't accept it. They want to toss him of a cliff like a frisbee. You know, when I was sick with a ruptured appendix, my job was to shut my mouth and submit to the Dr, Surgeon, and other medical personnel. I couldn't fix my medical emergency. So, here is Jesus, the Great Physician of Souls, telling them that they are sick and only

Luke 4:23 And he said unto them, Ye will surely say unto me this proverb, Physician, heal thyself: whatsoever we have heard done in Capernaum, do also here in thy country.  I was driving back from my brother's yesterday. It was initially a gray day with sparse falling snow and a cold wind that etched my soul. Since I had camped out the night before and stuck around for the Popover breakfast, I decided to miss Church. I know that not going to Church is a bad habit to fall into. However, I don't want to get legalistic about it. I was an hour and a half from home and began the long drive westward. In an attempt to resolve myself of guilt for missing Church, I searched the AM dial for a religious service. I settled upon a broadcast of a Mass from EWTN which is the Catholic version of the 700 Club. It was kind of old school because the Mass was mixing both Latin and English. I found the mystery and the clarity of it intriguing. The English was a recitation of well-establi