August weekend 2025 spirituality column

Synchronizing Our Heart With Our Actions

Have you ever done the right thing in a difficult situation, but your heart said, "I'm just not feeling it"? If so, then you know how hard it is to sync your feelings with your actions.

I remember such a moment in 1995 in Mountain View, California where I was stationed at Onizuka Air Station. It was memorable because it was the very first time I shared a chaplain's assignment with a Catholic priest.

His name was Richard Regan.

Father Regan was a winsome and gregarious guy who was adored by his parishioners. We became fast friends, and he encouraged me to call him Richard, but around his parishioners, I had to call him "Father."

One weekday morning, Richard and I arrived in uniform for a meeting in our chapel office. As we walked toward the entryway, we met two contractors hired to refurbish the steps.

The two men scrambled to their feet. They looked past me and greeted Richard in a deep Irish brogue.

"Top o' the morning to ya', Father."

Richard returned a polished smile as we walked past them to enter our office suite.

Inside, I noted how the men barely glanced at me.

Richard explained.

"I met them a few days ago and they asked about the Christian cross we both wear on our uniforms. I told them that I was a Catholic priest and you are a Protestant minister."

Richard described how the men looked down at their work in an awkward pause. "Is that so?" they asked.

"I hope that won't stop you from greeting him each morning too," Richard said.

"We'll greet him if you insist," one admitted, "but I'm afraid we'll be giving him a rather frosty 'top-o'-the-morning.'"

Richard laughed. The men didn't.

 

I had much in common with those men. We both were having trouble syncing our feelings with doing what we knew was right.

It was a stretch for me to call my friend "Father" because I was raised with the literal interpretation of Jesus' words in Mathew 23:9: "Do not call anyone on earth 'father,' for you have one Father, and he is in heaven." Yet I learned to do it because it was a professional courtesy of clerical protocol.

The catholic men, likely raised in the Northern Ireland conflict, probably found it difficult not to spit on Protestants, but the good Father's insistence encouraged them to do what was right.

Today, in the current political climate, I'm aware that there are many issues that work to separate us, such as gun control, immigration and abortion. These topics are difficult to decide, but we choose our views for various reasons based on our upbringing, personalities and experiences.

Yet as people of faith, we do know what is right between each other. Our faith demands we do unto others, as we would have them do unto us. We know for certain that we must love God with all our heart and our neighbor as our self.

So, even during these days of political madness and uncertainty, I hope we will pledge to ourselves and to our faith, to do the right thing between each other. We will remain civil and kind and will synchronize our faith with our actions.

As for the Irishmen, I told Richard that they'd warmed a bit, but still hadn't wished me, "Top-o'-the-morning."

"Sounds like progress," he said.

"How so?"

"If they really didn't like you, they'd insult you with something like, "May the cat eat you, and may the devil eat the cat."

I grinned. I suppose sometimes you take what you can get.

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Discounted versions of all my books can be found on Amazon by searching for "Norris Burkes." Autographed copies can be obtained on my website www.thechaplain.netor by sending a check for $20 for each book to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. 

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July 25 weekend 2025 spirituality column

Chaplain Finds His Real Church

 

In 1991, I made a career shift from Southern Baptist pastor to interfaith hospital chaplain. 

 

A close colleague was so concerned about my "apostasy" that he promised he would help me find a new church if I ever "returned to the ministry." 

 

"I'm not leaving ministry," I said. "Hospital chaplaincy is still 'the ministry!'"  

 

As most of you know, I went on to serve 25 years of ministry in both military and hospital chaplaincy. 

 

But during those years, I promised myself that if I ever returned to the pastorate, I'd change at least four things from my previous churches.

 

In October 2022, I took the chance to test my ideas when I accepted the pastor role at Community Church of Nevada City, Ca. (300 Main St.)

 

The first change I made in my approach was to lay off guilting parishioners into attending every church service. I want our church to be a place where people seek to restore what's broken before they return to life. 

 

I told them that church can't just be our destination. It must become an effort to live "church" outside the walls, visiting the sick, housing the homeless and sheltering the refugee.  

 

Second, I'd promised to lay off the money guilt trip.  The Pastor Norris of the 90's asked members to give their entire charity dollar to the church. In my new pastor role, I remind folks of our duty to also clothe the poor, feed the hungry and bring justice to the oppressed.  

 

My wife says I became a preacher because I couldn't sit still in the pew. Therefore, my third change has been to redesign nearly everything about the Sunday service around people who need movement to learn.  

 

I preach interactive sermons where people can respond or even disagree. We've injected movement and response into the Lord's Supper, using individual stations where people experience the sounds, smells and tastes of Jesus' teaching.  

 

I've done away with the loud music that isolates worshippers and keeps them from acknowledging those around them. 

 

We still use some hymns, but I challenge folks to understand their meaning. I've even inserted a few secular songs that encourage people to extend God's work outside the church. 

 

Finally, my biggest change is trying to preach R-E-A-L sermons.  

 

R – relevant. I still preach the traditional stories of Samson, Moses, and the virgin birth, but I try to make those stories relevant to today's life. I'll compare Samson's failure of strength to times my strength has failed me. I tell how Moses dealt with the rejection of his own people. And I talk about a young couple who must have been scared to death with their first child.  

 

E – empathetic. I try to demonstrate that I not only understand the people but feel their hurt. As I return to preaching again, I tell modern stories that show an appreciation for the pain that life can put us through and the thrills it can immerse us in.  

 

A – authentic. Pastoring again challenges me to share more of my own failures and heartbreaks. I try to admit the contradiction I feel between personal fear and the Scriptural admonition for us not to be afraid. 

I even share the defeat I feel over unanswered prayers and my frustration in loving the unlovable.  

 

L – language. A friend of my mine told me he would recognize a real church if he heard the pastor say "damn" once in a while.

 

OK, no, I haven't started cussing from the pulpit, but I do work harder to communicate in everyday language. I avoid trying to prove I graduated from seminary with words like Christology, eschatology and ecclesiology.  

 

If my old friend ever reads this, he'll likely regret his offer to help me find a new church. But for now, my real church is growing a bit as we all gather for a safe place to explore our faith.

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All of my books can be ordered on Amazon. Autographed copies can be obtained on my website www.thechaplain.netorby sending a check for $20 for each book to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602.  

 

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July 18 weekend 2025 spirituality column

Speeding Pastor Can't Hide Sins

I want to caution you that if you're driving this summer, be careful out there. The roads aren't just filled with drunk drivers.    

Sometimes they're filled with reckless pastors—as they were 25 years ago in Brentwood, Calif. During the late 1980s, I was the pastor of First Southern Baptist Church in town. No, this wasn't the Southern California Brentwood of O.J. Simpson fame. This was the sleepy, rural Brentwood in Northern California where strawberries were first bioengineered.    

As our town was somewhat secluded, I would often drive a few hours to  attend ministers' conferences in one of the San Francisco area cities. It was on    my return from one of those conferences that I found myself on the wrong end of the law.    

It was about 2 a.m. one Friday when I drove into the Brentwood city limits. There were no stoplights at the time and thus little to impede my return home.    However, the town was full of stop signs.    

Before I continue, let me hasten to add I was 27 years old, fresh out of seminary. With somewhat invincible thinking, I reasoned there are only Ten Commandments.     

To me, everything else seemed more of a suggestion.    Posted along the final half-mile homeward stretch of Walnut Boulevard was what seemed like three suggestions: stop signs about 100 yards apart.    

And at 2 a.m., it certainly seemed as though a young minister, eager to  return to his young bride, ought to be allowed passage through the signs at about 25 mph. Not exactly fast enough to be reckless, but fast enough to draw the attention of a fairly sleepy police officer.    In a red flash, the officer pulled me over and began to question my memory.    

"Do you recall seeing the three stop signs you just blew through?"    "Yes," I said, sheepishly producing my license.    

For the next several minutes, we played 20 Questions, and he quickly discovered I was a pastor.    

"What church?" he asked.    

"The Southern Baptist church—but probably not for long."    

"Why is that?" he asked.    

I reminded him the town newspaper usually published police reports, and it was difficult to imagine my parishioners reacting favorably to the news that their pastor had blown through half the stop signs in town.    

He apparently heard my concern because he generously reduced my infraction to running only one stop sign.    

But as he did, he posed a question that has guided me much of my career.    

"Do you suppose that your church members never been ticketed?"    

His question implied that a church that doesn't realize it has a flesh-and-blood pastor would be a church that has long been asleep.    

In the years since, I've come to realize that not only is it a sin to think of yourself as incapable of sinning, but it may be worse to think of yourself as someone who'd never want to be discovered sinning.    

No, I'm not suggesting we display our sins in a way that makes us seem more human. I'm only suggesting we don't attempt to hide our sins in a way that makes us less than human. 

Because, as my mom always said, echoing Numbers 32:23: "Your sin will find you out."    

Not long after that, The Brentwood Press published a story about speeders with a picture of an unsuspecting car driving down Walnut Boulevard.  

The story featured a car which very much resembled mine and was headlined "Walnut Boulevard Problem With Speeders."    

Guilty, again. 

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Column excerpted from my book, "Thriving Beyond Surviving."

All of my books can be ordered on Amazon. Autographed copies can be obtained on my website www.thechaplain.netor by sending a check for $20 for each book to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602.

Sign up to receive this weekly column by email at www.thechaplain.net/newsletter/ or send me your email address to comment@thechaplain.net.  

 

 

 

July 11 weekend 2025 spirituality column

Chaplain Offers – Dating Advice?

Are you familiar with a business named Chispa?

No, I'm not talking about Chispa Project, the nonprofit my daughter Sara founded in 2015 to establish children's libraries in Honduras. Just now, they are working on library #100. No small feat for their small but powerful Honduran team.

But the Chispa I'm referring to is the #1 Latino dating app. According to their website, they are "Fluent in Amor." This Chispa claims to have made "the perfect dating app for single Latina women and single Latino men."

"Chispa" is Spanish for "spark," which is why both the dating app and a literacy organization chose the name. Both organizations are appropriately named. After all, your love life and the books you read can radically light up your life and change your future.

I only mention Chispa, the dating app, because Chispa Project, the non-profit, takes many misdirected phone calls from lovelorn folks asking:

"Why is my account blocked?"
"Why isn't SHE calling me?"
"I haven't found anyone, can I get a refund?"

The incredulous part isn't how they find Sara's number in the first place, but how crazy-certain they are that they've reached the right number -- no matter how many times Sara tells them otherwise.

She's tried clarifying her opening line to avoid confusion: "Hello, this is Sara at Chispa Project, the non-profit in Honduras!"

"Hi, I'm trying to access my account and…"

"Ooh, so sorry!" Sara says in perfect Spanish, "You've reached Chispa Project, the non-profit in Honduras."

"I really need to get on your site ASAP…" insists the caller.

"Sorry, we're not related to the Chispa dating app. Wrong number."

They beg her, "Can't you connect me to the right person?"

Listening to Sara patiently explain – again and again – that she's not tech support for a dating app reminds me of how often Jesus had to clarify his mission for those who misunderstood him. People sought a political savior or miracle worker, but Jesus kept emphasizing a different purpose.

Despite all the parables, analogies, metaphors, and symbols Jesus used, he was clear and repetitive about one thing in particular—love—the chispa that lights everything else.

When he said to "love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind," and to "love your neighbor as yourself" (Matthew 22:37–39), he pointed to the fire that kindles true connection, purpose, and transformation.

Like a single chispa that can ignite a flame, love sets everything in motion—whether it's changing a life through a children's book, finding a life partner, or growing closer to God by following Jesus' example.

To be clear, this columnist does not endorse the dating app in question. I'm already locked into a lifetime subscription with my wife, Becky.

It's not the fleeting spark of romance I'm looking for, but a different kind of spark: one that ignites compassion, healing, and humility. These days, I find myself affirming the love that kindles true connection, purpose, and transformation – like Jesus taught.

How can we all become more fluent in the amor that demonstrates empathy? An amor that humbles us across differences?

In Greek, this type of amor is described as agape—a love that is unconditional, selfless, sacrificial. It's the choice to love regardless of circumstances or feelings.

In English, it might seem that Chispa, the app, and Chispa Project, the non-profit, offer the same thing—a spark of love. Make no mistake, both are important and necessary, but they are different.

Chispa, the app, offers a chance at romantic love. Chispa Project, the non-profit, encourages the agape love for our neighbors.

I keep telling Sara that she should charge a minimum donation for each of the crisscrossed Chispa calls she gets, but she always mutters something about honesty and goofy dad ideas.

But now the choice is yours—what will you do to spark agape in whatever Chispa you end up calling? What chispa will you ignite in your community?

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Celebrate Chispa's 100th library with me by donating $100 today at www.chispaproject.org/100 or send a check made out to Chispa Project at 10556 Combie Road, Suite 6643, Auburn, CA 95602.

Learn more at chispaproject.org. Email Norris at comments@thechaplain.net