The Back of the Head

October 11, 2015 -  I attended worship at David Lutheran Church in Canal Winchester last Sunday. I sat directly behind an older man. The back of his head captivated me. I couldn’t think who might be on the other side of that head, but that head posterior sure looked familiar. When he turned around during the passing of the peace, I instantly recognized him: “Hap!” Yes, it WAS a head I’d seen before: Pastor Hap Hasenhauer. I hadn’t seen him in over a decade, and that was when he served in Bucyrus and I in Galion, but once you’ve seen the back of a head, I guess it sticks with you. It reminded me of this Parson Ponders that I wrote in 2002.

I was sitting in my pew at a clergy conference.  We were at worship.  My thoughts were directed towards the goodness of God’s love and mercy.  But then I saw the back of  that head.  It was 3 or 4 rows ahead of me.  I said, “I’ve seen the back of that head before.  It looks like the head of that pastor who I used to know but haven’t seen for probably 20 years.”  I kept studying the back of the head of that pastor.  I’ll call him Pastor “Long-ago.”

I kept wondering.  I said, “I don’t ever remember studying the back of Pastor Long-ago’s head, but when I see it, I instantly know, or think I know that it is him, even though I haven’t seen him for two decades.  How very strange.”

A little later in the service, it was time for the passing of the peace.  I saw him turn around to pass the peace with those around him.  I saw his face.  “Nope,” I said, “I was wrong.  It’s not Pastor Long-ago.  It doesn’t look like him.” 

Still when he sat down again, and I was again confronted with the back of that head, I was struck anew by its familiarity.  It wasn’t until we got done with worship and got to our coffee and cookies that the riddle was answered.  As I strolled along munching a chocolate chip delight, a voice called out, “Well, it’s Tim Keeler!”  You guessed it.  It was Pastor Long-ago.  A face can change quite a lot in 20 years, I discovered.  But the back of the head, that’s another story.

We often say, “I know this or that like the back of my hand,” but it must also be true that we know people like the back of their head. I've been studying the backs of heads ever since.  I find that I know lots of people by the back of their head.

There are some important faith things we know that we often don't realize we know.  When Jesus told the disciples that he was going to prepare a place for them, and that he would come back and take them to that place, he ended with these words:  "And you know the way to the place where I am going." (John 14:4)  Thomas didn't know that he knew the way to where Jesus was going.  He questioned: "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?"

Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."

I have a feeling that just like we know more about the backs of people's heads than we think we know, all of us know more about faith than we think we know. We trip ourselves up.  We forget that we know about these things.  We get bogged down with trivial questions that block us from seeing the important truth that we already know.

Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."  We know that.  We may not know every single answer to every extraneous question, but we know that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life.  We know that our hope lies not in what we know but whom we know. 

Take a look at the back of a few heads this week.  I'll bet you'll be surprised at how many times you will be able to identify folks by the back of their head.  You know more about them than you think you know.

And I'll bet you know more about your savior than you think you know.  Whatever you don't know about him, you know that he is the way, the truth and the life.

The Creaking Toe

     I have a problem.  It's my toe.  It creaks.  At least I think that's what
it does.  I mean, saying that it squeaks doesn't seem right, and saying that
it cracks sounds like I should be headed for the emergency room.  Whatever the
right word for it is, my toe still makes funny noises when I walk.  I don't
know why.  It just does.  Seems like it always has.

     Most of the time I never notice or remember that I have a creaking toe.
When I'm walking around in the garage sweeping or nailing boards together I
never hear my toe creak.  When I'm walking uptown amid the noise of cars and
the wind, it's like my toe is the quietest piece of machinery anyone could
hope to own.  It's primarily when I'm "working" that I hear the "creak,
creak."  Do you know how quiet it can be walking down a hospital corridor?  Do
you know how a creaking toe can sound like a screaming siren when you're
creaking away down a hallway? Inevitably, the person I am visiting is in the
last room off the hallway, and I must creak past dozens of patients, nurses
and doctors who all must be saying to themselves, "What's that creaking
noise?"

     There was a time when I was very embarrassed by this.  I tried walking
stiff legged.  I tried arching my toe inside my shoe while I walked.  I tried
taking short steps so that my toe wouldn't bend so far.  Nothing worked.  I
even thought this might be a sign from the Lord that I shouldn't be a pastor.
After all, if I were a contruction worker, no one would ever know about my
creaking toe; but as a pastor, with the quietest of things to walk into--like
worship and funerals and marriage services -- oh my, disaster.

But then I thought of Moses, whose speech problem made him suggest to God that
he would make a very poor spokesman for God.  What if he would have become a
construction worker?  And Paul wrote of the "thorn in his flesh" that
indicated a physical problem he had, possibly epilepsy.  In 2 Corinthians 12
Paul says:  "Three times I prayed to the Lord about this and asked him to take
it away.  But his answer was: 'My grace is all you need, for my power is
greatest when you are weak.'"

I don't feel embarrassed by my creaking toe any longer, for it is at those
times when I am feeling the weakest -- when I speak for God to a person who is
facing a serious illness or a group of people trying to cope with the loss of
a loved one--that I hear the creak of my toe.  That creak is a reminder from
God, "My grace is all you need, for my power is greatest when you are weak."