Pastor's Devotions by Tim Harris

A few weeks ago a friend and I took a ride down to the Barnegat Lighthouse on Long Beach Island, here in New Jersey. Although I had never been to it, I knew it was a beautiful lighthouse. However, I learned the day before the day we were supposed to go that, beginning in May of this year, the lighthouse began to undergo a restoration process that would supposedly be completed by the end of October. Of course, we all know how fickle those dates can be. And, the most recent pictures of the lighthouse were of it covered in scaffolding. Thus, although I was hoping the work would be finished by time of our visit, I wasn’t really sure or even all that hopeful that such would be the case.  Yet, we took the trip down.  The whole time we were driving down the Garden State Parkway and then crossing the bridge to Long Beach Island, I was wondering what we would find. Would the lighthouse still be covered with scaffolding?  Or, was the renovation work done? I really had no way of knowing—that is,

Now that we’re in the midst of baseball’s post-season, and especially because the Yankees are still in it (currently playing for the American League title), I’m watching a lot more baseball than I usually do during the rest of the season. Although baseball is not the fastest moving game, it is a game that is filled with lots of tension and drama. And there is no more tension and drama as when there is a “full count.” When the pitch count reaches three balls and two strikes, the very next pitch is going to end that particular at-bat by means of either a strikeout, a walk, or a hit of some kind. (Actually there may be another foul ball which would count as nothing.) When the pitch count reaches a ”full count,” the next pitch will mean either success for the pitcher or success for the batter. It's no wonder the fans are on their feet cheering. It’s a pressure-cooker moment, especially for the pitcher, for it is up to him to make sure he throws just the right pitch. If he does, he succ

I know I’ve written a lot recently about my running escapades and what I’ve learned from all the training that led up to the half marathon I ran a couple of weeks ago. But one thing I haven’t mentioned was a lesson I learned the hard way: the need to properly fuel up before, during, and after a long run. You see, when running three, four, even five miles I never really worried too much about how much I needed to eat before beginning the run. Nor did I consider the need for any kind of nutrition during the run. And when finished, I would eat what one might consider to be a pretty normal meal (usually breakfast). However, when running six miles or more I found that I my nutritional needs became quite different. At times, because I hadn’t fueled up properly beforehand or had nothing to keep me fueled up during the run, my body clearly let me know it did not want to keep going; my body was depleted from not being properly fueled up.  After doing a bit of reading (as well as talking it thro

Now that our grandson Jesse is beginning to talk, he is able to refer to Kim and me as “grandma” and “grandpa.” Actually, he says, “ga-ma” (or sometimes, “ra-ma”) and “pa-pa.”  And, if I point to myself and ask, “Who is this?” not only does he answer, “pa-pa” but also, “papou,” which is “grandpa” in Greek! (Imagine at two years old, Jesse already speaks Greek!)  Of course, long before he was saying “ga-ma” and “pa-pa,” he had learned to say,  “momma” and “da-da,” which is only right, I guess.  Like most parents and grandparents, we haven’t taught Jesse to refer to us by our first names. In fact, I for one would find little joy in hearing him call me, “Tim.” That’s the way everyone else in my life refers to me, except for my children who call me, “Dad” (and congregants who call me, “pastor”). Family members and friends, neighbors and sometimes strangers to whom I’ve introduced myself, call me “Tim.” Yes, it’s my name but it says nothing about my relationship with the person who is using