Dear Rose Park,
Comparison is the thief of joy. I’m not sure who said this, but I’m glad they did. This quote has been attributed to Mark Twain, Theodore Roosevelt, and C.S Lewis. Regardless of the ownership, these words are absolutely true. We allow ourselves to be robbed of joy when we begin to compare ourselves to others.
Dear Rose Park,
You may have noticed that a new door has been purchased and installed on the north side of church. Once the glass is finished and installed, it will complete a more welcoming and hospitable main entrance. A few days ago, I was standing near the new door and talking with Ken Beltman when I was reminded of Psalm 100.
Dear Rose Park,
On Monday evening, I attended the visitation for our beloved neighbor, Del Dekker. Del passed away on Tuesday January 9. I saw some of you at the visitation. It was such a joy and blessing to see pictures of Del, speak with his family, and reminisce about a man who so deeply cared for his neighborhood.
Dear Rose Park,
As some of you know, next week I’ll gather for my last doctorate intensive at Western Theological Seminary before graduation in May. These past three years have flown by in some sense and dragged in another sense. Yet, it has been a fruitful experiencing diving into the writings of Eugene Peterson. Throughout these three years, I have been so encouraged to get text messages, emails, and voicemails from you all wishing me luck and letting me know I was in your prayers. As I have gratefully received your well-wishes, I am reminded of a picture frame that sits on my desk.
Dear Rose Park,
There’s something satisfying about an orderly work place or a neatly organized drawer. There’s some satisfying about perfectly straight lines in a freshly mown lawn. I’m not sure how to put it into words but there’s something simply satisfying when everything is in its’ place, when it’s perfectly symmetrical, or when a set is complete. Maybe this is just me, but I doubt it.
Dear Rose Park,
“Angels We Have Heard on High” is one of the most famous songs during the Christmas season. Casting Crowns, Josh Groban, The Mormon Tabernacle Choir, Amy Grant, Michael W. Smith, and even Sarah McLachlan have their own versions of the beloved hymn. Regardless of the version, it is a beautiful hymn that perfectly encapsulates the glory of Christmas while also inviting us to imagine the wonder and excitement of Christ’s birth.
Dear Rose Park,
Tonight at 5:30 p.m. in the fellowship hall we’ll be gathering for dinner around the Family Table for the last time in this calendar year. This will be our 7th time gathering in this semester. We’ve shared conversations over French toast sticks, hot dogs and hamburgers, pizza, and even a concoction called ‘Build a Mountain.’ We’ve invited friends from Escape Ministries and even welcomed guests from Compassionate Heart Ministries. This is all to say, I love gathering around the Family Table with you all. As our leadership looks to the future of the Family Table, we’ve noticed something is missing.
Dear Rose Park,
Last Tuesday night, Sam and I bundled up the kids and went to the Holland light parade. Not only did we attend the parade, but we marched in the parade with our friends from Holland Running Club. I was amazed at how many entries there were in the parade: local businesses, a few churches and non-profit organizations, and dozens of firetrucks, police cars, and ambulances all beautifully decorated for the Christmas season. As we made our way down the parade route and noticed all the children lining the street, something dawned on me yet again…
Dear Rose Park,
During the Advent season, many families have traditions. Some of these traditions may have been passed down from generation to generation. Perhaps it’s singing “Silent Night” with your closest family members on Christmas Eve, decorating the Christmas tree while listening to your favorite carols, or maybe even watching “Home Alone” and laughing at all the scenes you’ve already watched a dozen times. In any case, the rhythm of traditions can be very meaningful during this Advent season.
