Pastor Miller

I remember Pastor Miller preaching at Barclay Heights Community Church. We met in the lodge of an old YMCA camp on Esopus Creek near Glenerie Falls. When the lodge became our permanent home, we changed the name of the church to Glenerie Chapel.

I remember Pastor Miller praying; his opening prayers were nearly the equal of his sermons. These were not pithy, punchy, sound-bited perfunctories; his prayers were ten minutes of engagement with God on matters of the day, from local to global.

I remember Pastor Miller’s velvet singing voice. It reminded me of a baritone Andy Williams with a bit of Mel Torme. From where I sat, singing seemed to be pure pleasure for him.

I remember Pastor Miller telling us about Christ’s Passion during a springtime Sunday night service thirty-some years ago. One of the other teens ran out of the lodge, weeping – overtaken by the description of what Jesus had endured for him. I ran after him and listened to his story.

I remember Pastor Miller’s Christianity including humanness. He didn’t try to portray himself as saintly; he wasn’t aloof from his congregation. He wasn’t afraid to laugh.

I don’t remember when Pastor Miller invited me to call him “Bob”. The truth is I never really got used to it. He was simply “Pastor” to me.

I remember Pastor Miller saying he thought I’d become a pastor someday. I didn’t like that, and I fought it for a long time. But over the years, his was among a small number of voices through which God conferred that calling to me. I don’t wear it as comfortably as he did but I try to be true to my legacy.

Today, I’m remembering to remember because it’s the day of Pastor’s memorial service. I wish I could be present. He and his family are very much on my mind. I’m praying they feel the support of their communities as they find their way forward. I’m praying they know they’re not carrying his memory alone. And I’m praying they find grace today to celebrate him with all their might.

this day's bread

Give us this day our bread of this day
and which this day alone can give us,
at the same time that this very day is given to us.

Jean-Luc Marion

new things

“See, the former things have taken place,
and new things I declare;
before they spring into being
I announce them to you.” Isaiah 42:9, NIV


The way of faith is not static. Belief moves. God’s call, God’s song unfolds dynamically over time. It’s not a puzzle we solve. It is unfrozen.

Humans were not made for stasis; even our brains function best when we’re in motion. Scientist and author, John Medina, explains this phenomenon in his new book, Brain Rules.

Exercise increases oxygen flow into the brain, which reduces brain-bound free radicals. One of the most interesting findings of the past few decades is that an increase in oxygen is always accompanied by an uptick in mental sharpness.

Exercise acts directly on the molecular machinery of the brain itself. It increases neurons’ creation, survival, and resistance to damage and stress. http://www.brainrules.net/

Clearly, the interplay between physical and mental vitality is profound. I suggest spiritual vigor is integral to the same equation. Our place in creation isn’t merely decorative! We’re made to be played, saxophone-like, resonating with the Creator’s breath.

God reaches toward us from our not-yet and invites us to lean into his all-things-work-together-for-good. This is what it means to follow Jesus. This is why we aren’t interested in religion as usual. This is how we find ourselves flourishing at the edge of brand new things.


“We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God: those who are called according to His purpose.”
Romans 8:28 (Holman Christian Standard Bible)



Copyright Scott Burnett 2006