THE LAST RIVER MILE

Thoughts near the take-out.

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GEOFF POSEGATE

Retired United Methodist pastor and leadership coach.

  • FORMER PRINCE ANDREW AND FAILED JUSTICE

    Granted, I really don’t know everything about the complexities surrounding the Jeffrey Epstein trafficking process and the seemingly endless files concerning those associated with him. But the optics right now are really bad, especially for Congress, the Department of Justice, and the Attorney General. For whatever reasons, the United Kingdom was unafraid to arrest a former prince and member of the royal family, placing him solidly under suspicion. Our legal system thus far won’t come anywhere near doing the same with anyone on this side of the pond. (According to the Attorney General, prosecuting everyone named in the Epstein files would cause collapse of the “whole system.”)

    I try to imagine how all this looks to one of the many victims of the predatory actions of Epstein, Maxwell, and others involved. The names of many of the potential collaborators/perpetrators/predators/”clients”/etc. have been redacted. The names of victims have not been. Worse, images of underage women in the files have not received the protection that the identities of those in power over them have received. What does this say to a young woman who was used as an object by a man simply because he was wealthy enough, powerful enough, and connected enough to exercise that power over her? It says that she is an expendable commodity, It says that protecting a “whole system” is more important than protecting her.

    Followers of Jesus have to know that we are under a mandate to stand in the gap for the vulnerable and powerless. The Bible is replete with evidences of the command. (Psalm 82:3-4, Isaiah 1:17, Matthew 25:40, among the dozens of examples.) If we who claim the name of Jesus stand by silently as this unjust situation stands, or (worse) if we go through some kind of theological gymnastics to “justify” this travesty, then we join in culpability.

    If legal pursuit of Epstein file perpetrators will collapse a system, then, frankly, it is a system that needs to come crashing down.

    I’ll see you around the next bend in the river.

  • LENT – PRAISING GOD IN THE WORST TIMES

    Among people of faith, a commonly heard phrase is “praise God!” Normally I notice it spoken as a result of some favorable outcome, from finding a misplaced phone to hearing that biopsy results are benign. Saying “praise God” signifies gladness that God has done something beneficial for us or for others. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this. This is not really praise, though. It’s actually thanksgiving; thanking God for something that pleases us. In pure praise, the focus is not on us and that which benefits us. Praise is focused entirely on God.

    In praise, I rejoice in the nature and attributes of God. God is the Alpha and the Omega. (An ancient way of saying that God is unbounded by time and space.) God is truth. God is merciful and just. Above all, God is love. All of these things benefit me and all of us, but it’s not about my benefit. It’s purely about who and what God is.

    Obviously, it’s easy for me to praise God when all is going relatively well with me and/or the world around me. Conversely, praise is hard when life’s blessings seem limited or non-existent. I can allow the bleak and barren times to strangle praise.

    One of the most profound and powerful expressions of praise I know occurs in a story recorded in the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) portion of the Bible. It’s the story of a man name Job, who loses wealth, family, health and virtually all that’s precious to him. He cries out in pain and anger, demanding to know why God would do all this to him or allow it to happen? He debates friends who offer formula platitudes to explain it all. In the midst of his agony, though, Job is determined to cling to praise of God. In one of the boldest faith statements of the Bible, Job says, “Though he slay me, yet I will hope in him.” (Job 13:18 – New International Version.) Hear that…Job is saying that even if the worst happens to him, he will hope in the One who alone is worthy of praise. That bold and raw. And it is the naked core of praise.

    Many followers of Jesus, as of yesterday, are observing a season known as Lent. This is a period of 40 days (minus Sundays) leading up to the observance of the death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. It is in many ways a bleak and barren season, resulting in the crushing emptiness of the killing cross. It is a hard time in which to praise God. But as Jesus resolutely set his eyes on and his path toward the place of his death, he also says, “Though he slay me, yet I will hope in him.”

    The world will not take any special note of those who praise God when all is well. Anybody can do that. Nor will the world be impacted by those who join in the flow of anger and despair when times are bleak. That’s just normal for all of us who are human. Humanity will notice, though, those who are being slain in a multitude of ways, but who still defiantly, even joyfully put their hope in the God who still makes all things new, who will establish love, justice, and righteousness, and who will win in the end, regardless of what happens to them. And they praise God in the seemingly unending darkness.

    I’ll see you around the next bend in the river.

  • A CAN OF PUMP PRIME

    A lot of opinions and stringent points fly around every, and I know I contribute to the swarm. I thought I take a break from it all and just share an old, funny story. (This will be appreciated best by those who have a non-urban background.)

    In the early years of our marriage my wife and I joined with another couple in the purchase of a small cabin on a bluff overlooking the Current River in Missouri. (The same river on which I took my first canoe float as a twelve-year-old.) We did this against our better judgment, with idyllic dreams of what owning recreational property near the most noteworthy stream in the Missouri Ozarks would be like. As it turned out we spent more time maintaining the cabin than actually relaxing and enjoying it. But it was enjoyable for the three or four years we had it before we both moved away from southern Missouri and we had to sell it.

    One maintenance requirement was the pump that brought water to the structure. Both the husband in the other couple, a fellow young pastor and I grew up in a major metropolitan area. Neither of us had any experience with a water pump. As a complicating factor, the property upriver from us and the one just downriver from us had easement rights to the pump and the water it produced. So, if something went wrong with the pump, the legal burden was on us to get water going again for our neighbors.

    I remember the first time the pump went out and a good neighbor called us to let us know that something needed to be done about it. My friend/co-owner and I drove the distance to the cabin to try to address the situation. We slid the cover off the pump house and crawled down alongside the mechanism, realizing we didn’t have a clue what we were looking at. We stood staring with our hands on our hips for a while, as guys do. Refusing to admit ignorance, we messed with valves/moving parts/whatever for a bit, thankfully doing no permanent damage. We finally remembered a friendly, helpful older gentleman we had met, who lived down the hill from our cabin. So we went down to his house, where he graciously listened to our description of what was going on with the pump. He smiled and said, “Oh, I’m sure it just needs prime.” We looked at each other, thanked him, and walked back up the hill to our cabin on the bluff.

    Without much discussion but in a kind of silent agreement we got in one of our vehicles and drove a couple of miles into the closest town to a hardware store. We went up to the counter and told the two clerks there that we needed a can of pump prime.

    Nearly a half century later my guess is that those two hardware store guys have gone on to their rewards. But I’ll bet they still get a good laugh in heaven telling the story of the two city boys who actually asked to buy a can of pump prime. (If you don’t know why this is funny, I feel your pain. Run it by someone you know who has a rural background, but be sure you do it without an audience!)

    We all do dumb stuff, I guess. (I hope!) Maybe we should go easy on one another.

    I’ll see you around the next bend in the river.

    BTW, I thought the Super Bowl 2026 halftime show was GREAT! (Sorry…I can only stifle a strong opinion/stringent point so long!)

  • THE DYING ART OF LISTENING

    I am not a great listener. Too often when I should be hearing another person I’m too busy thinking about what I’m going to say in response, what advice I’m going to give, or what point I’m gearing up to make. I wish I was the exception, but it seems I am more the rule in the culture in which I live, unfortunately. Listening, really listening doesn’t seem to be a high priority right now, as we fire memes and messages at each other like heat-seeking missiles.

    When we fail to listen deeply to each other, we create a firewall that disallows actually hearing one another. I listen to what another person says, I read a quote from somebody, or observe something in another person, and immediately I tell myself a carefully constructed narrative that becomes the context for that individual. (In the narrative, I am usually the “hero” and the other person is the “villain.”) I see a lot of that going on at all levels of human exchange. We are in a season of communication “armed encampments.”

    Some voices are countering all this. One such voice is found in a streaming series popular a few years ago – “Ted Lasso.” Quoting or paraphrasing Walt Whitman, Ted Lasso says, “Be curious, not judgmental.” Curiosity about another human being requires question-asking, and the gathering of further information. Judgment cuts off information flow, and can cause us to act without all the information needed. Drawing from Oswald Chambers’ MY UTMOST FOR HIS HIGHEST, a friend of ours from our church recently noted that in any situation involving other people, I do not have all the information that is available. Open-ended questions invite conversation….”Can you say more about that?”…”Can you tell me what led you to what you believe”…”Can you help me understand more about that?”

    We Jesus-followers are fond of quoting statements Jesus made. Sometimes we overlook the number of times Jesus asked powerful questions and then listened. To really listen to another human being is to honor that person.

    Contrary to current belief, or at least current practice, listening does not equate to agreement. It’s not about compromising. Somethings are right, and some things are wrong. And listening, particularly to those with whom we disagree, is not an excuse not to act when needed. Again, for followers of Jesus, we are required to stand in the gap for persons who are endangered, devalued, or disenfranchised. Listening is not an act of betrayal or compliance. It’s not a dichotomy of either listen or oppose. More often it’s the delicate, precarious dance of both.

    Regardless, in human interaction, good questions gain further ground than pronouncements. And, regarding questions, Henri Nouwen made a helpful observation: “When we consider how much our educational, political, religious, and even social lives are geared to finding answers to questions born of fear, it is not hard to understand why a message of love has little chance of being heard. Fearful questions never lead to love-filled answers.” As always, fear shuts down listening and connection. Love opens them up.

    So I need to be a better listener. Hold me accountable to that.

    I’ll see you around the next bend in the river.

  • TRYING TO DOMESTICATE AN UNCONTAINABLE GOD

    It is astounding how much time and effort we human beings can put into keeping God leashed and under our control. Convincing ourselves we are doing the right and righteous thing, we in fact desperately try to domesticate God. I might limit God to the confines of my particular biblical interpretation. Or I can box God into my specific theological viewpoint or understanding. I might also do my best to make sure God fits into the cultural boundaries which make sense to me and which provide me with a feeling of existential comfort. I could force God to serve my personal needs to be affirmed and to be “right.” Or worst of all, I might make God the mascot for my specific political worldview.

    Yet time and again God consistently breaks out of human-determine boundaries. Jesus is the primary example of that. God is not just some pleasant, grandfatherly comfort giver. God is the wild ride of our lives.

    I find the following prayer by Fr. Richard Rohr challenging to my every attempt to keep God in my convenient little box: Loving God, we love how you love us. We love how you free us. We love what you have given and created to surround us. Help us to recognize, and to rejoice in, what has been given, even in the midst of what has not been given. Help us not to doubt all that you have given us, even when we feel our very real shortcomings. We thank you for the promise and sign of your love in the Eternally Risen Christ, pervading all things in the universe, unbound by any of our categories of logic and theology. We offer you ourselves back in return. We offer you our bodies, our little lives, our racing minds, and our restless hearts into the one wondrous circle of Love that is You. My life is no longer just about me; it is all about you.” (Emphasis mine.)

    I’ll see you around the next bend in the river.

  • THE KILLING OF ALEX PRETTI AND THE FEAR OF 2045

    Along with most of the world I watched Alex Pretti get shot multiple times and I wondered how we got to this point in our nation. How does an American citizen legally carrying a non-brandished firearm get killed while trying to help another person? This comes with a flood of other questions for me. How are ICE agents given largely unchecked authority in an area that has a tenth of the undocumented immigrants as Texas or Florida? How did we come to this? When did the necessary need for law and order become an excuse for unchallenged force? Do we not see the grave, 1930’s Germany-level danger in suspending due process for all who live in our land? How are we not concerned about the deliberate attempt to dismantle the balance of power written wisely into our nation’s Constitutional DNA? How can we even consider rolling back hard-won gains in civil liberties? Why are we surrendering to an “us/them” view of life, giving in to the dark addiction of needing some “enemy” to blame? How in the world are we at this point?

    There’s no simple answer, I’m sure. Like everything else, it is multi-layered and complex. However, I sense one key factor that no one seems to be mentioning. But I can feel it. Frankly, I’ve wondered about it for nearly a couple of decades; at least since Barack Obama became president of the United States.

    2045.

    In or around that year, statistically, white people will no longer be in the majority in the United States. Over fifty percent of our citizenry will be made up of people of color. Nothing short of mass genocide will stop this. It’s just demographics. And it is inevitable. I believe that awareness of this is driving much enmity, division, and violence in these present days. People know, consciously or viscerally, that 2045 is coming.

    The season of Caucasian dominance, including supremacy and privilege, is coming to an end. This is nothing unusual in the grand sweep of human history. Gradual ethnic shifts happen all the time. It’s just that this is a big one in our history. (A history which is relatively short as national histories go through the centuries.) In some ways it is a natural result of a country that defines itself as a melting pot. But for those who have been the beneficiaries of a white-dominated culture, which includes me, it is a seismic shift.

    The death throes of any creature near its end can be violent; somewhat understandably, as the creature feels white-hot fear in the face of immediate mortality. There’s no one way that fearing the end of white dominance manifests itself. Some will cloak it under a call for meritocracy. Others will sound the alarm of replacement theory. As noted about, “law and order” is a favorite umbrella, as we are seeing played out in the streets of Minneapolis. Some will default to white-supremacy extremes. (Not long ago a United Methodist District Superintendent received this message: “You have been visited by the White Knights of the Ku Klux Klan. This visit was a social call. Do not make our next visit a business call.” *) Wherever it lands on the continuum, it is the same fear, I believe.

    This poses a challenge and an opportunity for followers of Jesus, especially those of us who have refashioned Jesus as a only a domesticated, white, mascot for a highly privatized eternal fire insurance plan. The actual Jesus, the crucified and risen Lord, deems every human being worthy of his life, his death, his resurrection, and his promise to return. In him there is no Jew nor Greek, no slave nor free, no male nor female, no white nor black, etc. (Galatians 3:28.) This is not to say that identities are lost as much as it is to say that no one group identity is more valuable than another or has the right to dominate another. And there is no corollary on any of this that says, “…unless your ethnic group is losing ground or is no longer in the majority.”

    So what do we do as Jesus-followers? That’s a big question right now, and most of the answers are not easy. Whatever we do, it has to be done in love. But love is not inert or benign. As Cornel West says, “Justice is what love looks like in public.”

    I’ll see you around the next bend in the river. Stay warm and hopeful.

    * The United Methodist Council of Bishops, BUILDING BELOVED COMMUNITY: The Courage to Love in the Face of Tyranny (Abingdon Press, 2025). p. 73.

  • IS YOUR LIFE MORE LIKE A WELL OR A SPRING?

    Big Spring feeds the Current River in the southcentral Missouri Ozark hills. It is the largest spring in the state of Missouri and one of the largest in all of North America. It churns out a staggering 290 million gallons of water a day, bursting forth out of an 80-foot deep hole in the ground. I was twelve years old when I first set eyes on it. (I am 73 now.) Six decades later I still have trouble finding the words to express my experience that day. The closest I can come is this – wonder.

    I use an online daily devotional source which I would recommend highly – Lectio 365. Wednesday’s post focused on John 4:4-42. This section of the Bible tells of an encounter between Jesus of Nazareth and a woman in the region known as Samaria. It happens at a well. Wells were central to life and community in that arid region of the world. In the encounter, Jesus asks for a drink from the well. He and the woman go back and forth in conversation for a bit, about the well – the work required to get water from the well, and the fact that thirst and need will continue to necessitate water from the well. At one point Jesus shifts the water image from a well to a spring. He talks of water gushing forth continually, from no human effort. He says that those who drink from this spring will never thirst. Pulling from this well/spring imagery, the devotion leader for Lectio 365 asked a powerful question – In your relationship with God, does it feel more like digging a well to reach hidden reserves or like drinking deep from a bubbling spring?

    I have to admit that much of my faith life feels like well-digging. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Contemplative prayer, deep Bible study, serving in the name of Jesus as best I can, trying to stand with those who are the least, the last, and the lost. It’s all good, but a lot of it feels like my effort, much as well-digging is human effort to access a water source. Sometimes I long to just be happily flooded by a surging spring; where the only effort I can offer is wonder.

    Sixty-one years ago, Big Spring was the destination of a 90-mile canoe float on the Current River for about fifteen campers and three counselors from a YMCA summer camp. We were to camp overnight at Big Spring State Park, then we would be picked up the next morning, along with our gear and the canoes. After supper a few of us went to the Spring itself. Too exhausted from the trip, we didn’t have much more energy than to sit on the rock formations just above where the water surges out of the ground. We just sat and looked at the immensity of what was happening at our feet. Thinking about the staggering geological and physical processes that made this ongoing power happen. Listening to this stunning natural sound that nothing (not even AI!) can recreate. Smelling the smell that only water from the depths of the earth can create. Mesmerized by the thundering crystal image of water in endless flow. A small bunch of junior high and high school boys, saying not a word; unable and having no desire to do so. Minutes went by, then what seemed like hours. The sun went down, but it didn’t matter. Finally someone said we had to get back to camp to get ready to be picked up the next morning.

    We were lost in wonder, much like the woman at the well became lost in wonder before the spring of life that was/is Jesus. In an old hymn, “Love Diving, All Love Excelling,” the very last line is, “…lost in wonder, love, and praise.” It’s that. The take-your-breath-away wonder of a surging spring. I long for more of that. Maybe we all do.

    So is your life more like digging a well or like drinking deep at a bubbling spring?

    I’ll see you around the next bend in the river.

  • IS IT ABOUT GOD, OR IS IT ABOUT ME?

    If God is any kind of a reality for you, what is it that matters most to you about God? As I listen to people and as I observe myself, much of what we seem to like best about God revolves around that which God does, whatever that may be. God loves, God saves, God rescues, God fixes, God heals, God comforts, God vindicates, etc. We value God as a function: God does thus-and-so for me, and I am grateful for that. Other folks seem to value God in a more relational sense. They seek and cherish God’s presence. For Jesus-followers, Jesus known as “God-with-us” matters. Some of all this likely boils down to personality profiles, as all of us lean toward either being task-focused (God as a function) or relationship focused (God as a presence).

    However, either leaning left unchecked can lead to a significant flaw. In each case, the endgame is me. I value God for what God does for me, or I value God for how God makes me feel in God’s presence. Even if in an impressive guise of faith, the ultimate aim really is me.

    Jesus of Nazareth made the outlandish, illogical statement, “For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it.” (Luke 9:24.) In part I believe this means that if I make it all about me, even with an impressive religious veneer on it, I won’t find the life I really long for and need. However, if I give all that up and yield it completely to God who is made known in Jesus the Christ, I will in fact find who I am.

    I, along with all drawing breath, am an extension of the very image and life of a loving, creating God. That is the truth about me; clouded, hindered, and imprisoned by Sin (separation from God) as it may be. God literally has moved heaven and hell to win victory over all that would deny me/us this foundational truth. That includes victory over the illusion that everything, including God, is all about me.

    As long as I know myself only by how God/life/fate/whatever benefits me, I really don’t know myself or anyone else at all. If I die to all that, then I will see and know the truth.

    What would it be like for you to know God not for any benefit or gain it would bring you, but fully and completely just for God’s own sake? The last line of the hymn, “Love Divine, All Love Excelling” includes the words, “…lost in wonder, love, and praise.” What would it be like for us to lose ourselves this way?

    I’ll see you around the next bend in the river.

  • THE CHILDREN ARE WATCHING

    The children are watching this current national dumpster fire. We might like to delude ourselves into believing they are just going about the business of being children, glued to their screens, and oblivious to everything going on. That is purely a delusion. They are watching, they are taking notes, and they are learning. And what we’re teaching them by word and action is…well, …

    Let’s just look at what they are learning from so much of leadership in the spotlight in these days. They are learning that force is the answer to everything. Whoever can muster the most muscle or firepower is “right” by default. Name-calling and demeaning are totally acceptable if they serve your viewpoint. Flip off opponents if they challenge you in public. Any lie is perfectly fine if it feed the preferred political agenda. If you want it, just claim it – it doesn’t matter what someone else may need. Punishing those who disagree with you is more important than the overall good of all people.

    And, for good measure, slap a thin coat of “Christian” rhetoric over it all to make it all okay.

    Who is teaching the children that compassion and respect are values worth pursing, even and especially in leadership? Who is teaching them that courage is found in standing for what is right, and doing so in a way that honors the innate worth of all human beings? Who is teaching them that statesmanship actually is a skill and an artform worth learning and cultivating?

    In the Jesus-following worldview we know that Christianity is more caught than taught. How we live and what we model teach more than what we speak, write, or post. To promote one set of values while demonstrating a whole different set is not just neutral; it is counterproductive.

    The children are watching. Would that we were putting as much effort into what they see as we are into “winning” whatever battle we think is worth compromising the values we really ought to be modeling.

    I’ll see you around the next bend in the river.

  • BAD CHAOS AND (RENEE) GOOD CHAOS

    I’m a fan of the Netflix series “Stranger Things.” The last (?) episode features one of the characters giving a valedictorian speech at a high school graduation. In it he speaks of “bad chaos” and “good chaos.” One destroys and divides, he says, and the other is fertile turf for something new. The scene is a great segment in what I believe is a classic series concluder.

    I’ve been thinking about good chaos and bad chaos ever since. In general, I don’t think we like chaos of any kind. We tend to want order, and we want that order to make sense to us and to benefit us. In effect we worship equilibrium, or at least the concept of it. But life consistently demonstrates to us that equilibrium is an illusion. Change is that which is consistent, and often chaos precedes change or creates it.

    I believe we’re seeing “bad chaos” in real time in many ways. Politically, chaos can be the greatest ally of those who are in power, those who seek to gain power, or those who are desperate to retain power. The formula is fairly simple: 1) Create or claim to identify chaos; 2) Fix blame on some “other” for the chaos; 3) Claim to be the only one(s) who can re-establish “order” in the chaos; 4) Acquire unchecked power to “fix” the chaos; 5) Utilize force and fear to allegedly tame the chaos. Then rinse, repeat, etc. This kind of chaos destroys, divides, and degrades. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness become very secondary to “law and order,” as carefully defined by those in power. This is the chaos in which people like Capital police personnel, Ashli Babbitt, Charlie Kirk, and Renee Good die. Ultimately nobody “wins” in bad chaos, ad much as many delude themselves into thinking that they do.

    Good chaos can be just as scary at first, depending on where a person stands. This is especially true for people who depend on their definition of stability for personal benefit. However, where bad chaos seeks division, destruction, and control, good chaos seeks life and freedom. Good chaos breaks apart that which is calcified and deadening. Good chaos enlivens. It creates hope in possibilities never before imagined. Good chaos defies that which divides by seeking to heal and unite. While bad chaos tears down, good chaos clears the way for a new foundation on which to build up. Jesus of Nazareth created good chaos in the midst of a deadened faith in Israel and a deadening Roman Empire. The good chaos that gave birth to the Church (Acts 2) unleashed a movement that turned the world upside down. Our very nation was born out of a good chaos. The good chaos turmoil of the anti-slavery movement of the 19th century and the civil rights movement of the 20th century demanded a new birth of freedom. There are endless examples of good chaos.

    Sometimes it may be hard to tell the difference between good chaos and bad chaos. Maybe we need to look for where in this mess is perfect love casting out fear. In the Creation story (Genesis 1) the Spirit of God moves or hovers over the “deep”, which represents chaos. The actual Hebrew verb means to “brood”, as a mother bird does over her young. This is an act of nurturing, feeding, protecting, and giving life. Where is that happening in the midst of any given chaos? That may give us our answer.

    I’ll see you around the next bend in the river.