This past Reformation Sunday, I found myself thinking about Martin Luther . . . and my kitchen. My family and I are in the process of having it "reformed." When we bought our house nearly 7 years ago, it came with the stereotypical 1960's kitchen: knotty pine cabinets and Autumn Gold Formica countertops. We did not mind it much, since the fact that the previous owners had never remodeled the kitchen was the very thing that put the house within (just barely!) our price range.

Last Fall, our congregation at Immanuel studied An Altar in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor. For one of the small group sessions we had on her chapter on Encountering Others, I wrote the following poem. I think it is worth sharing.

"Did you realize what time it is?" My dad exclaimed when I walked in at 10:30 p.m. at night. "It's very late!" I must have looked surprised but then I apologized for worrying him and headed up to the guest bedroom. As I got ready for bed I had to remind myself that I was 35 years-old, an ordained Presbyterian pastor living in Brazil working with crack-cocaine addicts, married with two children. I'd come to see my parents on a brief visit after speaking at a missions conference, and that night I'd been out with friends whom I hadn't seen in a couple of years. So why, when I walked in the house and was reprimanded by my father, did I feel like I was 15 once again?

We live in a culture of fear, and since 9/11 we have grown increasingly anxious about terrorism, pandemics, environmental disasters and nuclear annihilation - anything that can injure or kill us. Our method of coping is to make an idol out of any activity, agency or technology that will promise us security.