There’s something special on the second floor of the library at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. I never knew it was there, because it is tucked away against a back wall in a room past the upstairs stacks. It’s a common object of furniture, so it blends into the décor you’d expect to see in a public building. However, it’s quite uncommon.

Karl Barth was a pastor and theologian born in Switzerland in 1886. He was active as a teacher when the Nazi party rose to prominence. In 1934,he met with other pastors and drafted a document called the Barmen Declaration, which is part of our Presbyterian “Book of Confessions.” He rejected the false doctrines “the church could recognize as a source of its proclamation other events, powers, or historic figures as God’s revelation apart from the one Word of God” and the idea that “there could be areas of our life in which we belong not to Jesus Christ but to other lords.”

One day in 1935, the rector of the University of Bonn decreed that each lecture would end with the German salute. Barth refused to comply with this and said, “I have begun my lecture for the past two and a half years with a brief devotion consisting of the reading of two Bible verses and the singing of a hymn by all present. The introduction of the Hitler salute in this context would be out of place.” This cost Barth his position and put his own life at risk.

Barth survived the war and went on to be one of the most prominent Christian thinkers of the 20th century. He wrote 13 volumes of Church Dogmatics, commenting on almost every aspect of our faith in a magnum opus that was only cut short by his death, in 1968. He wrote over six million words about the Christian faith, often seated at a simple wooden desk – a desk that now resides in the second floor of the library at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary.

Barth offered many memorable quotes during his life. “Jesus does not give recipes that show the way to God as other teachers of religion do. He is Himself the way,” or, “To clasp hands in prayer is the beginning of an uprising against the disorder of the world.” He is best known for his response when a student asked him to sum up the central message of his multi-volume theological work in only afew words. Barth thought for a moment, smiled and simply said, “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

Karl Barth’s desk sits roped off in a corner of the seminary library. It’s a reminder of his scholarly, faithful work that has encouraged innumerable lives over the years. What item might represent your legacy? What might be roped off in a quiet place of honor to commemorate your life? Perhaps this is a sobering thought, but it is one worthy of times of Lenten reflection. It may be a photograph of you with someone else, or a framed quotation of words of faithful encouragement you offered in times of need. It might be a desk or a work of art, or something that best expresses how your spirit and God’s spirit combined to make the world a better place for a moment in history. What do you think it is?

Ten years ago this month, my wife and I were expecting the birth of our first child. In preparation for that event, I composed a long essay as a way to express my thoughts and hopes as I prepared to assume the role of being a father. As my son’s tenth birthday approaches (as does my daughter’s eighth birthday), I share this essay with you.

To my daughter or son,
Sometime in the next two months, you’ll be born, and we’ll meet for the first time. I’ve been rearranging furniture in the guest room to make it into a nursery. I’ve also been rearranging my mental furniture, my thoughts and priorities, to prepare for your presence in my life.

You are a child of the 21st century, one of the first who will live almost entirely in the new millennium. My world has been defined by a century soon to pass away, an age of machines and technology. Your world is an age of information, of Internet, e-mail, and the “global village.” More information is available to you in a single day than our ancestors had during their entire lifetimes.

Unfortunately, information isn’t the same as knowledge, and having access to so many facts isn’t the same as being wise. At the moment when our world is more connected than ever before, we as individuals have never felt more fragmented. We live busy and active lives, but we are seldom at peace. So just between us, here are a few suggestions as you prepare to enter this world.

First, learn people’s names. As soon as you emerge, you will be given a name. That process is the same all over the planet. But people find it difficult to remember names, so we choose to remember only categories: friend, enemy, rich, poor, Republican, Democrat, Christian, Jew, pro-choice, pro-life, gay, straight. Most of our world’s woes can be traced to this preference for labels over names. Yet all of the finest emotions you will ever feel – compassion, sympathy, love – are dependent on knowing others’ names. So learn people’s names.

Second, be biased. This may seem like a strange request, but it emerges from the heart of our faith tradition. Christianity has never claimed to be impartial. It is unequivocally biased – in favor of the people pushed aside and passed over, those without voices or lobbyists, the abused child, the forgotten invalid, the stranger denied a home among us. The rich and powerful will always find ways to make themselves heard. Be biased toward the poor in body and spirit around you.

Third, enjoy your entire body. The world in all its splendor will be presented to you through your senses, so learn to celebrate life through the wonder that is your physical body. Protect your flesh and bones from harmful chemicals and things that deaden your senses. Nurture your soul and imagination through times of creativity, curiosity, and laughter. Discover that your sexuality is about much more than sex. Much darkness and pain has come into this world by those taught to hate their bodies, distorting sexuality into something shameful rather than welcoming it as a sacred trust and joyful potential given to all people. Never forget: Every inch of you is beautiful and has been made in God’s image.

Fourth, know that you’ll never be alone. You’ll be born into a family who loves you dearly. Over the years, the family you’ll create around you, will ebb and flow – relatives, friends, a spouse, partner, co-workers, neighbors. As much as I can, I’ll be near you even when you wish me to be elsewhere. I’ll watch, laugh and celebrate as you grow to be distinct from me, perhaps even distant from me.

While I live, you’ll never be far from my heart. In time I’ll die, as all will die, but you’ll not be left alone. Why? Because at the heart of life is a loving heart, one both eternal in time and perfect in knowledge. All our earthly affection is at best a pale reflection of God’s deeper love that’ll never leave or forsake you. Never.

Though I give you these words, know that you will soon give me something far more precious. The fatherly relationship I have known by faith and by family I will now be able to embody for you. I will soon see the wonder of this world afresh through your eyes. Through the past years, my life has been shaped by a God-given sense of hope, for which I am grateful. But with your birth, I will be able to literally hold hope in my hands and call it by name. What an amazing gift that will be. See you soon.

A group of ordinary golfers recently had the chance to play one hole of golf with Tiger Woods. Two thousand platinum-colored golf balls had been hidden in packages sold across America; 24 people were selected from that group. The winners were flown to Los Angeles to play alongside Tiger on the tenth hole of the Trump National Golf Club. In writing about this event, one of the winners talked about trying to avoid nervousness by relying on his pre-shot routine. What could be less routine than hitting a golf ball in front of the world’s best golfer?

One participant put it best: “We all fear the same thing. We don’t want to dribble it off the tee. Everyone is praying, ‘Please, God, let me get the ball airborne.’”

I doubt whether anyone keeps score in heaven, but if I had to make a guess, I’d estimate that God hears four or five “Please, God” prayers for every prayer that says “Thank you, God.” (If I were playing golf with Tiger Woods, I’d be saying a lot of “Please, God” prayers too!) We go through our days primarily focused on what is before us. Occasionally we notice things that make us smile or surprise us with their beauty, like a pink and red sunset, the antics of a toddler, or the sight of a pet playing in newly-fallen snow. Sometimes we stop long enough to say a prayer of thanksgiving to God, the source of life’s wonder and beauty.

Far more often, when our focus is distracted from what’s before us, it’s because something else grabs our attention – a close encounter with a reckless driver, a stressful situation at work when the phone won’t stop ringing and the e-mails pile up, or the lingering memory of being told about a medical test result or the death of a friend. At those moments, we send up “Please, God” prayers. Sometimes they’re bargaining prayers (“Get me through this and I’ll never do that again.”) or perhaps life-line prayers (“I need your help, Lord, with just this one thing.”).

They are honest prayers from the heart. I would never suggest that you shouldn’t offer these prayers to God. But, as you pray those words, I hope you’ll remember two things. First, if you’re driving the golf ball in front of Tiger Woods, keep your head down and follow-through completely. Second, God in Christ is with you always and knows your needs even before you ask. That doesn’t change the fact that you will sometimes hear bad news or face hard times, but it absolutely changes the way you think about living your life in light of those situations.

In his second letter to Timothy, Paul wrote these famous words: “God did not give us a spirit of fear, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.” God’s grace, spirit, power and love are the starting point for our lives each day, and the foundation upon which we stand as we respond to the good and bad times in life. We are children of God, shackled not with spirits of fear and defeat, but set free (through the good news of Christ’s resurrection) to live lives of hope, power and love.

A new year has dawned. As you move through the early days of 2009, filling in your new calendars, celebrating with our nation the inauguration of a new President, confronting the challenges that come your way from snowy storm clouds and inclement economic conditions, remember that you have not been given a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power and love. The two go together, and with them, through God’s grace, every prayer is heard and answered.