Lent 30

And another prayer from Walter Brueggemann for today... I woke up this morning in a funk and not in the mindset that I should have.

You… and therefore us
The day demands that we begin in praise of you,
for the day is yours and we are yours;
we could not live the day without reference to you,
without your gifts,
without your commands.
We begin with praise,
for the gift of life,
for the gift of our life together,
for the gift of life in your world
with all your beloved creatures,
for the gift of life in your church
with your steady recital of wonders.
You, you alone, only you,
you who made and makes and remakes heaven and earth,
you who executes justice and gives food we know not how,
you who sets prisoners free and sights the blind,
you who lifts up and watches and upholds,
you who reigns forever,
you… and therefore us.
You, except we turn to lesser trusts,
all of us with our trust in the powers,
You, except we turn to ignoble aims,
all of us preoccupied with ourselves.
You, except we invest in our little controls and our larger fears,
all of us marked by anxiety.
And then we watch as you ease us out of anxiety,
as you heal our selves turned new,
as you topple powers and bring new chances
for truthful public life.
You… except… but then finally, always, everywhere you…
and us on the receiving end.
And we are grateful. Amen.

Lent 29

Her's my prayer for the day.

For those who have betrayed us...for those who have let us down...for those who have been indifferent to us...for those who have crippled our lives...for those who have doubted us...for those who have accused us...for those who have preferred others to us...for family members who have hurt us...for those who have denied us...for those who have walked away from us... We ask the power of your forgiveness, the gift of change and the grace of hope...

Hear our prayer, hear our prayer, God of mercy, hear our prayer.

For my own self pity...for my lukewarmness...for my times of despair and distrust... for my refusals to be hugged...for my disbelief in your love...for my searching everywhere but in your heart...for apologies frozen on my lips... We ask the power of your forgiveness, the gift of change, and the grace of hope...

Hear our prayer, hear our prayer, God of mercy, hear our prayer.

For my words of love unspoken...for greetings and embraces ungiven...for compliments never offered...for a heart closed in self-centeredness...for my own unforgiving postures...for not believing in your forgiveness... We ask the power of your forgiveness, the gift of change and the grace of hope...

Lent 28

This will be my fourth post in the space of a couple of hours because I missed four. I've missed a few in this season of Lent, but it has become more difficult here in the middle. The middle of Lent slack is upon us. We want to race to the other side, to just be done. And then I think how ridiculous this is because all I've done is given up some sweets and promised to write a couple of paragraphs a day to think about God in my life. What a measly offering, and yet, I can't seem to do it. I pray for the strength to continue the journey with God, not just in the season of Lent, but in all my life. I pray for the strength not to deny, or turn my back and ignore. I pray for the strength and resolve to honor the good gift of grace given to me by a loving God.

Lord, who throughout these forty days
For us didst fast and pray,
Teach us with Thee to mourn our sins
And close by Thee to stay.

As Thou with Satan didst contend,
And didst the victory win,
O give us strength in Thee to fight,
In Thee to conquer sin.

As Thou didst hunger bear, and thirst,
So teach us, gracious Lord,
To die to self, and chiefly live
By Thy most holy Word.

And through these days of penitence,
And through Thy passiontide,
Yea, evermore in life and death,
Jesus, with us abide.

Abide with us, that so, this life
Of suffering over past,
An Easter of unending joy
We may attain at last.

Lent 27

Luke 13:31-35
31 At that time some Pharisees came to Jesus and said to him, “Leave this place and go somewhere else. Herod wants to kill you.”

32 He replied, “Go tell that fox, ‘I will keep on driving out demons and healing people today and tomorrow, and on the third day I will reach my goal.’ 33 In any case, I must press on today and tomorrow and the next day—for surely no prophet can die outside Jerusalem!

34 “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing. 35 Look, your house is left to you desolate. I tell you, you will not see me again until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.’”

I was reading an article from Christian Century published in 1986 by Barbara Brown Taylor and I came upon this:

"If you have ever loved someone you could not protect, then you understand the depth of Jesus’ lament. All you can do is open your arms. You cannot make anyone walk into them. Meanwhile, this is the most vulnerable posture in the world --wings spread, breast exposed -- but if you mean what you say, then this is how you stand."
Later, she goes on to say:
"...a hen is what Jesus chooses, which -- if you think about it --is pretty typical of him. He is always turning things upside down, so that children and peasants wind up on top while kings and scholars land on the bottom. He is always wrecking our expectations of how things should turn out by giving prizes to losers and paying the last first. So of course he chooses a chicken, which is about as far from a fox as you can get. That way the options become very clear: you can live by licking your chops or you can die protecting the chicks.Jesus won’t be king of the jungle in this or any other story. What he will be is a mother hen, who stands between the chicks and those who mean to do them harm. She has no fangs, no claws, no rippling muscles. All she has is her willingness to shield her babies with her own body. If the fox wants them, he will have to kill her first."


...You can live by licking your chops or you can die protecting the chicks...

Lent 26

A prayer for us, all of us...

We are takers (W. Brueggemann)
You are the giver of all good things.
All good things are sent from heaven above,
rain and sun,
day and night,
justice and righteousness,
bread to the eater and
seed to the sower,
peace to the old,
energy to the young,
joy to the babes.
We are takers, who take from you,
day by day, daily bread,
taking all we need as you supply,
taking in gratitude and wonder and joy.
And then taking more,
taking more than we need,
taking more than you give us,
taking from our sisters and brothers,
taking from the poor and the weak,
taking because we are frightened, and so greedy,
taking because we are anxious, and so fearful,
taking because we are driven, and so uncaring.
Give us peace beyond our fear, and so end our greed.
Give us well-being beyond our anxiety, and so end our fear.
Give us abundance beyond our drivenness,
and so end or uncaring.
Turn our taking into giving… since we are in your giving image:
Make us giving like you,
giving gladly and not taking,
giving in abundance, not taking,
giving in joy, not taking,
giving as he gave himself up for us all,
giving, never taking. Amen.

Lent 25

Occasionally, I stumble upon a website I've seen many times in the past. Something will remind me of it, and I'll check it out. www.postsecret.com is perhaps one of the most haunting places you can go. The whole idea is that people will anonymously write their deepest secrets on a postcard and mail it in to be displayed. Some of the confessions are startling, some of them silly, some of them deeply moving, and some of them heartbreaking. I don't know if an anonymous confession made public can really help, but it does bring to mind the whole idea of confession.

I think one of the tragedies of the Protestant church's desire to run away from Catholicism is the loss of emphasis on confession. Now, let me say this: I don't think confession requires a priest in a box and priest-mandated penance. I do, however, believe that we have so emphasized God's grace and forgiveness that we've actually forgotten a key part of the repenting we know and love in the Protestant church. We're skipping a step. Naming something is important. It's also dangerous. Sometimes we keep it pushed down because we know that if we bring it out, it'll get the air to breathe. But bringing the thing with which you struggle up to the surface also gives you the opportunity to see it in the light of day. And then you can deal with it. And yes, sometimes, you need to do penance, not necessarily as punishment, but as a way of changing a habit or getting some forward momentum in a new direction.

The secrets we keep deep down can eat us alive. Confession leads to pardon.

Lent 24

Micah 6:8 "He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?"

Without sharing the details...In a conversation today, I made a comment about addressing a specific problem not being enough because it would come up again so what is needed is an answer to the broader problem underneath the specific one.

One of the talks that I was impressed with this past weekend was the one entitled, "Change Your World." The speaker made the point that if we are to follow a biblical model, it is not enough to simply address a problem, but rather we must seek find the source of a problem to address that as well. An example: You meet a homeless person who asks for a warm meal. You have the resources to meet this need. Jesus said, "As you did for the least of these, you have done for me." You provide the meal. To truly do justice, however, it is important to seek to find the source of the problem. Perhaps you could go the next step by seeking to participate in programs which provide indigent mental illness support in order to address one of the many root causes of homelessness.

I pray to God each day for the strength to avoid the band-aids on bullet holes rut that we so often get stuck in. I will not disparage the band-aids completely though. While we seek to find solutions to systemic problems, we shouldn't ignore what little we can do. Sometimes we have to put food in bellies while we try to figure out why the food isn't there in the first place.

Lent 23

Posting the brief meditation I gave at an Emmaus event this past weekend while I reflect further on the stunning grace found in the utterly ordinary.

John 9:1-7
As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. 2His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” 3Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. 4We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. 5As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” 6When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, 7saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see.

A couple of weeks ago, I taught a confirmation class on the means of grace, in general, and on the Sacraments, in particular. When talking to the kids we covered the classic definition of sacrament..that is, an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. And while the classic definition is great, it didn't help them really understand this abstract concept of grace, so we talked a bit more and came to understand grace as God's self-giving. It's God showing up. And when God shows up, things happen. When God's grace enters into the picture, you can count on healing, reconciliation, growth--in a word, change.

And so it was with the man blind from birth. I can imagine that he was just hanging out, doing his normal thing. He was a beggar. Not a beggar for healing. Just a beggar. And then Jesus walks by, in the midst of conversation, and he decides to do for this man what he didn't even know to ask for. Jesus spit on the ground, mixed it around a little, basically made a mud pie, spread it over the man's eyes, and told him to go wash up. And when he did, he could see. I can imagine that was pretty surprising for him. One minute, he's trying to make ends meet, and the next, Jesus has come on the scene, rubbed a little mud on his face, and now his whole life has changed. I can imagine, also, it must have been pretty surprising to the onlookers, to see something as ordinary as a fistful of mud become a means of God's grace.

While the sun has come out and dried the ground a little, two nights ago, a group of women gathered in a church while it was raining outside. Many, if not most, were entirely clueless about what they were getting into. And if my experience of the Walk is any indication, many may not have been so thrilled about walking blind into the experience--a feeling, I'm sure, which was complicated by arriving at a soggy, muddy camp. I know when I left my home in Greenwood Thursday afternoon in the rain, I had to talk myself into being excited about the idea of a church camp which I was certain would be covered in mud.

It's a little funny because in a different context, I have spoken fondly of mud. Those of you from Charleston--and perhaps all of you--will know what I mean when I describe pluff mud. You know that sick, sour, sulfur, bad-egg smell that comes from the water's edge. But I must tell you, since I moved away, that smell has become one of my favorite things. When I go to Charleston for a visit, that smell, that sour mud, that's the smell of coming home.

So when we gathered on the soggy soil on Thursday night, maybe we were coming home then to. You see, we asked God to show up. You asked God to show up. And God showed up. God showed up and called the gathered few and invited them, and all of us with them, into his midst. I guess what I mean to say by saying all of that is this: grace is both ordinary and extraordinary, extraordinarily surprising. Grace is what takes concrete floors and folding tables and turns them into a home. Grace is what takes the seemingly small words of human beings and makes them move all who hear. Grace, the healing, saving, wonderful, self-giving grace is what opened the blind man's eyes.

It is amazing what the ordinary may turn into when in the hands of Christ. That's what we find at the table. At first, the elements of bread and wine are surprisingly ordinary. But in the hands of Christ, what we experience here is the very presence of God, something surprisingly wonderful. When the blind man encountered God's unlikely, ordinary, and yet amazing grace, his eyes were opened. And so too, at this table, may our eyes be opened in the breaking of the bread. Amen.

Lent 20-22

Luke 24:28-31
28As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. 29But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. 30When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight.

Since the purpose of this Lenten task was to spend some intentional time each day seeing God in my day and taking the time to reflect, I am giving myself a pass for the next couple. I will be gone to participate in the Walk to Emmaus as an Assistant Spiritual Director. I will be giving a talk and praying with others who will be giving talks. I will be traveling south for the weekend, away from technology, to be with people who are seeking to grow spiritually. So, I won't be around or writing for the next couple of days, but I will be--God willing--catching glimpses of grace each day.

Lent 19

Luke 4:16-21
16When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, 17and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written: 18“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, 19to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” 20And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. 21Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

That's the text we used for youth tonight (well, last night at the time of this posting). We spent some time trying to understand who the captives are, who the poor and blind are, and who needs the freedom offered by Jesus. I was reminded of a sermon given by Tom Long at Candler a year or so ago. He told the story of a time when he had been pulled over for a traffic violation and in the time between receiving the citation and his court date, he did lots of research about the law in order to prove himself innocent of the charge for which he'd been cited. The court date came around and he had a file folder full of law and precedent, ready to make his case. When he stood before the judge, the judge told him the officer who had pulled him over was no longer with the department so there was "no one to bear witness against" him, and he was free to go. Tom Long reported that he was actually angry that he didn't get to argue his case. He ended by saying, "Isn't it funny that most people would rather be right than free." Whoa.

I was thinking about how much truth there is to that. I have so often struggled--mostly with myself--in order to prove myself right or at least hide my wrong. And all the time, I am free. I have been captive to my own guilt, shame, and feelings of imperfection. I have been poor, lacking in understanding and grace for myself. And I have been blind to the gift of God's goodness too often. I am in need of the freedom in Christ.

Lent 18

Had a pretty weird job interview last night. It was a phone interview with a panel of about 5 people on the call. It was very clear that each person in the room had their own agenda or, at the very least, had been assigned an agenda. Each person stuck to questions that revolved around roughly the same thing. There was one guy who threw absolutely off the wall questions at me. His questions made even the others on the panel a little confused (they said so). At first I found myself a little annoyed, but then somewhere in the midst of the 45 minute conversation, I decided there was method to his madness. I really think he was using some strange technique...almost like Jesus..in a reverse-parable kind of way. When people asked Jesus questions, he gave them parables, which at face value seemed quite nonsensical. This man was asking me nonsense questions and I actually think he cared about the answers. For instance, the most off-the-wall questions was this: "If you were a native of Charleston when the Battle of Fort Sumter started, which side would you have been on?" I thought, what in the world does this have to do with the position of Youth Director at a UM church. But not wanting to brush him off, I thought carefully and gave a measured and thoughtful, even intellectual answer. He responded with, "Young lady, that was a good answer."

Basically what I'm saying is..truth and insight comes from very unexpected places.

Lent 17

Today, I laughed out loud at a comment from a friend. She said, "I hate to say this, but the more involved I get with the church, the more disappointed I become." I felt bad about laughing at this, but I quickly explained that I was laughing at the truth of her statement and that it happens all the time and in most churches. It's pretty ridiculous, actually, that the closer you get to the inner workings of the church that the more disappointed you will become. It's like they always say: two things you don't want people to see how you make...laws and sausages. I guess the structure and administration of the church should be added to the list.

But is this the way the church should be? Dare I say no? The church, at least the UMC, does, in a lot of ways, run like a business--a corporation, even. We have a board and committees and the virtual equivalent to a human resources department. We have staff meetings and ad hoc committees to complete tasks and websites and e-mail addresses. But in all this, it seems that we have lost sight of what the church really is. We are the body of Christ. We aren't a building or a business. We are the body of Christ. We might do ourselves a favor to pause and think how Christ may feel about the way we treat and use his body. We might to well to treat our tasks and missions as the church with a little more sanctity than we do most of the time. And I say all this with the very serious hope in Jesus Christ who makes all things new, sanctifies all things, and through grace makes us better and better.

Lent 16

INFP

I have done numerous personality assessments, largely due to the fact that I am involved in professional ministry. Dealing with people means you need to learn who you are and that will help you better relate. According the Myers Briggs Personal Inventory, I am an introverted, intuitive, feeling, perceiver.

It is weekends like this that I realize that I am wholeheartedly an introvert. I have taken some knocks on this point, particularly in CPE, as my peers and co-workers have been concerned how I will lead a church and committees and interact with others if I am so introverted. My answer has always been that I am not painfully shy, I just need to recharge inwardly and personally. I do not draw my strength and energy from the crowds like my extroverted brothers and sisters. I am drained by the crowd and have to power down to recharge.

There were so many things I felt like I could have been doing the last couple of days, but I chose to power down instead. I watched movies and took naps. I read a little. But all the while, I had to fight the voices telling me I was being lazy. The world around us often tells us that we have to be go-go-go or we aren't being productive members of society, but a relaxing, introverted Saturday is what gives me the recharge for the next day of busy. And I take comfort in the fact that I am almost more than certain that Jesus was in introvert too. What did he do when he got a chance? He went away, by himself, or with his closest friends who built him up and helped him rather than drained him of his energy. That's where I saw God this weekend...in the grace to give myself a pass and let myself rest.

Lent 15

I did my least favorite job at the church today...I put the bulletin together. After stuffing 300 or so bulletins with an insert, my shoulders actually hurt a little from the repetitive motion. The one good thing about it, after about the 50th one, it gets pretty easy--other than the soreness, of course--because you get into a rhythm. And once you get into the rhythm, you can feel the task, and when you can feel the task, you can do it without even thinking about it or looking.

When I moved to Atlanta, I hated it at first because the rhythm was so different than the rhythm of Charleston. I felt like I was working against the city. And the same was true when I moved here to Greenwood. It took me a while to get the rhythm.

God's love and God's will is kind of like a rhythm. When we are out of rhythm, everything we do feels like an effort. It feels like your rubbing up against something and can't quite get comfortable. But if we seek God's will, seek to get in sync, and try our very best to practice doing the things God wants us to do, we'll create habits. And those habits will become second nature, and eventually, we'll get into God's good rhythm.

Lent 14

Some days in my life are "rat race" days. Today only held some of that, but I had a long conversation with someone today about the tensions of being in ministry. Some days, you feel a great sense of belonging, but still others--perhaps too many than we'd like--seem like days of simple employment. This feeling is borne out of the "rat race" mentality. We might do well to understand church work as a sacred task. Ordering the life of the church should be a privilege..but more often than not, it turns into just any other job. It gets polluted with bad attitudes, jealousy, greed, power plays--just like any other area of administration.

So, my prayer for today comes from Walter Brueggemann.

We also live double lives
Power turns and postures and exhibits.
It controls and manages and plots.
We participate in it,
we benefit from it,
we are dazzled by it… and more than a little afraid.
Just underneath, all the while…
Just underneath dazzling power
sits violence and brutality,
greed and fear and envy,
cunning and shamelessness.
In that too we participate.
Like the ancients, we also live double lives,
public in pageant and role and office,
hidden in meanness and thinness.
We do not do well at bringing this double together.
But we confess you to be Lord of all our lives,
Give us new freedom about our public lives,
give us new candor about our hidden lives,
Correct what is brutal and greedy and fearful,
chasten what is hidden and mean.
Make us women and men of shalom,
the kind of welfare you will for our common life. Amen.

Lent 13

That's right...I skipped Day 12. Yesterday was a whirlwind day. And I was up late chatting with Owen Pye (and his wife), the out-of-town musical guest for the MSUMC Coffeehouse...okay, okay, okay...excuses. Lent has turned out to be a bit harder than I thought it would be.

Today, I sat in a little gathering of worship minds as we discussed worship plans for "Consecration Sunday" that is coming up next week. On this particular Sunday, the congregation will be given the opportunity to understand their gifts as being consecrated unto God.

consecrate (ˈkɒnsɪˌkreɪt)
— verb
1. to make or declare sacred or holy; sanctify
2. to dedicate (one's life, time, etc) to a specific purpose
3. to ordain (a bishop)
4. Christianity to sanctify (bread and wine) for the Eucharist to be received as the body and blood of Christ
5. to cause to be respected or revered; venerate: time has consecrated this custom

There are a couple of contexts in which we most readily encounter the word "consecration," primarily in definitions 3 and 4. I hope to, at some point not too far in the future, be consecrated into service with and for God. And I am quite familiar with the consecration of the elements in celebration of communion. In this context, we ask the Holy Spirit to come to us and make those elements into something more than they are, more than they can be on their own.

In a lot of ways, we are asking for all these things when we ask that our gifts be consecrated unto God. Each week, we take up offering and pray to God that the gifts received will be used for God's glory. How, then, can we allow our whole lives to be offerings unto God? How can we order our lives so that we are set apart, holy, and sanctified for God? What do we need to do in order to be living sermons, to further the Gospel, to transform the world? First, I think, we have to ask the Holy Spirit to come to us and make us into something more than we can be on our own.

Lent 11

28One of the scribes came near and heard them disputing with one another, and seeing that he answered them well, he asked him, “Which commandment is the first of all?” 29Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; 30you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ 31The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” - Mark 12:28-31

I took the Minnesota Multiphasic Inventory today as part of my psychological testing for ministry candidacy. I had to determine whether 567 statements were true or false. When I got to the statement "I am uncomfortable talking about sex" I actually laughed out loud to myself in the little conference room where I was working. I have been talking about sex a whole lot lately, actually, as we have been working on a study on the topics of sex and dating for youth in the church. And, incidentally, not too long ago a young United Methodist, single, female pastor gave an interview for Marie Claire in which she talked quite candidly about her sexuality. The ensuing backlash (and fierce support) has led to a series of articles on the topic in Fidelia's Sisters, a favorite read for me. So the topic of sex has been all around me...for a couple of months now. So, no, I'm not uncomfortable discussing the topic.

It is our discomfort with sex that I have found very troubling recently. I have heard at least one parent (and opinions of others) who disagree with a youth series because "this should be taught in the home." I have heard people want to ask about what we're doing but can only whisper the words. I have watched people squirm, and blush, and avoid, and any other expression of discomfort you can imagine. And this amazes me. It is amazing to me that pietistic tradition has forced sexuality out of the church and, thus, out of the realm of ways we love God. The commandment as it comes from Jesus seems to speak about us loving God and ourselves and one another with ALL of our being. It seems to me that we have too often let shame and guilt dominate the subject of sexuality and set it up as the opposite of spirituality. I'm not buying it. The choices I've made with my heart, mind, soul, strength, body, sexuality... the choices I've made have been about loving God and about honoring the gift of grace in God. It seems to me (you'll notice a lot of things 'seem to me') that we need to find a way to become more comfortable with the subject. If we are more comfortable then perhaps our youth and even the adults will feel more comfortable and confident seeking guidance on how to love God with their whole beings...and they might be more comfortable seeking counsel when mistakes have been made and the God of grace needs to be more real to them than a church whose approach is guilt can show them.

Lent 10

John 3:1-17

3Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. 2He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” 3Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” 4Nicodemus said to him, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” 5Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. 6What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. 7Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ 8The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” 9Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” 10Jesus answered him, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things? 11“Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. 12If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? 13No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. 14And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, 15that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. 16“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. 17“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

While reflecting on the passage and the worship theme for the day (for tomorrow), I have been working on the pastoral prayer for the early service... which will serve as my post for the day.

Giving God, as we pause a moment and reflect on the words of Jesus as told to Nicodemus, that we must be born of water and the spirit, we pause to remember how, in the beginning, you created the waters, and out of the waters you brought life. We give thanks for the good gift of life and growth and sustenance, O God.

We give thanks for the rains that fell yesterday which cleansed and cooled and fed the earth. And this brings to mind all the ways you cleanse us, give us your peace, and offer us the sustenance of your spirit. We ask that you would be with us in these ways, O God, with those of us gathered here now, and with those who are not among us today due to illness, hospitalization, grief or whatever it is that keeps them away. And with those we love who are not part of this congregation who need your peace and your spirit.

We pray now for those for whom water does not now represent the source of peace and healing but rather destruction and chaos. We pray especially for Japan and its people, and for all the other places affected by the earthquake and tsunami which devastated so many.

God, we give you thanks for the water, but ask that you help us to remember that we must be born of water AND the spirit. Pour out your spirit upon us, guiding us, teaching us, loving us, keeping us in your ways, O Lord, that we may believe in you and have everlasting life. It is in Christ’s name that we pray. Amen.

Lent 9

It seems the theme from yesterday has continued into today. As I sit here in an old-lady-recliner with my face hot and feeling weary, I also feel a little good about the weariness. While I may have complained a touch too much about the situation, I spent about 5 hours helping in a massive cleaning project. We arranged, rearranged, moved furniture, purged supplies, built shelves, stocked shelves, dusted, disinfected, and on and on and on...

That first verse from "Come and Find the Quiet Center" comes to mind yet again. ...find the room for hope to enter, find the frame where we are freed. Clear the chaos and the clutter, clear our eyes that we may see all the things that truly matter, be at peace, and simply be. The project was meant for clearing away the clutter to create a new, and renewed space, for ministry. Tonight I'm going to ask a couple of questions of myself and hope to pursue their answers. What clutter do I need to clear out of my life? Is the chaos of life around me blurring my view of the Holy Spirit who moves all around me? Am I making room for hope, or am I trying to make my own way all on my own? Am I able to see the things that matter, be at peace, and simply be? I don't know, but it may be time to take a look at what I need to do to become renewed in my relationship with and my service to God.

Lent 8

Come and Find the Quiet Center (words by Shirley Erena Murray) (TFWS 2128)

Come and find the quiet center,
in the crowded life we lead
find the room for hope to enter,
find the frame where we are freed:
clear the chaos and the clutter,
clear our eyes that we can see
all the things that really matter,
be at peace and simply be.

Silence is a friend who claims us,
cools the heat and slows the pace,
God it is who speaks and names us,
knows our being, touches base,
making space within our thinking,
lifting shades to show the sun,
raising courage when we’re shrinking,
finding scope for faith begun.

In the Spirit let us travel,
open to each other’s pain,
let our loves and fears unravel,
celebrate the space we gain:
there’s a place for deepest dreaming,
there’s a time for heart to care,
in the Spirit’s lively scheming
there is always room to spare!

Come and find the quiet center,
in the crowded life we lead
find the room for hope to enter,
find the frame where we are freed:
clear the chaos and the clutter,
clear our eyes that we can see
all the things that really matter,
be at peace and simply be.

I posted this last year, but a day like today brings it back to mind. I started my day (well, the outside of my house part of the day) drowning. I was surrounded by clutter and noise and activity and people and voices and machines and sirens and...and... I couldn't hardly take it. I felt queasy and flushed. I couldn't focus on any of the things I was trying to do. And then, in a fit of need, with a little help, I got some of the clutter under control. We closed the door and blocked out some of the noise. I turned into myself, closed my eyes, and said a prayer. My prayer was simple. Over and over again, "God, calm my heart. Quiet my spirit. Calm my heart. Quiet my spirit. Calm my heart. Quiet my spirit." And after a while, I did find quiet and calm and focus. Sometimes--well, most times--life has to be lived in the midst of the busy and crazy and loud and active. But sometimes you need to step aside for a minute, collect your thoughts, recharge, and be renewed.

I think about Jesus after the death of his dear friend John. When he received word, I'm sure many people crowded around him. "Jesus, I'm sorry. Jesus, did you hear? Jesus, are you afraid? Jesus, will you say anything in response?" And in Matthew's Gospel, Jesus drew away from the shore and found the quiet isolation of a boat on the water. After a while, he went back to the shore, to the crowds, to the place where he would feed a great multitude, but first he had to take a breather. May we all learn to step away from the crowd and the noise to recharge and refocus so that we will be refreshed for our service.

Lent 7

Today was Week 2 of the Greenwood Lenten Pilgrimage and the pilgrimage took us to Church of the Resurrection Episcopal today. I have always loved Episcopal services and today was no exception. The Episcopal church manages to capture the beauty of the Psalms as communal texts and does a good Body of Christ-like service to the community by offering intercessions. Most of all, I appreciated the homily of the day. The rector of this church is kind of a goofy guy. If you met him on the street, you might find him awkward. But he set all that aside today when he stepped into the pulpit. He preached on the text where Nicodemus goes to Jesus and is told that he must be born of water and the spirit. The passage includes the most famous of NT passages, John 3:16. For God so loved the world that God have God's only son so that all who believe in him will not die but will have everlasting life. The rector offered a most refreshing take on the text today, focusing on one word. The Greek word cosmos, translated world in English. He told us how everywhere else in the book of John, the word cosmos comes with a very negative connotation. We should love God, not the world. We should serve God, not the world. Your treasure should be in heaven, not in the world. But it is this very same world that God came to save.

It was a strangely appropriate message in the midst of all the absolutely stupid things I've heard people say in the last few days. Those things are the same things they said last year when a devastating earthquake stuck Haiti, or back even further when violent storms hit Florida, Louisiana...and the list goes on. I don't know why tragedy strikes (which, if you know me, you know it's a common theme in my thoughts and my writing) but I do know that God didn't come to the world to destroy it, but rather God came down to love it and save it. I don't buy into the idea that God is mad at us and punishing us. Thousands and thousands of people don't die because God is mad. That's a pretty short-sighted view of the fullness of God's love. To be saved, we are born of water and the spirit. I refuse to believe that God would choose (post-Noah, of course) to have us destroyed by water. So, no, I don't know, but before I judge, I will hurt with Japan. I will mourn with Japan. I will pray for Japan...and all the others affected.

Lent 6

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. - Luke 24:1-4

My current obsession: Mumford and Sons. I have been listening to Mumford pretty constantly lately. The music is sneakily spiritual.

While sitting in the parking lot of the Charleston District Office of the United Methodist Church, I was listening to Sigh No More and listened to Roll Away Your Stone more than a couple of times.

Roll away your stone, I’ll roll away mine
Together we can see what we can find
Don’t leave me alone at this time,
For I am afraid of what I will discover inside


A fitting tune to be stuck on...as I waited for over two hours to go into what I perceived to be the scariest room ever. I was afraid of what a room full of pastors and lay people would find when they rolled away my stone.

So I spent some time in intentional reflection with God rather than sitting in my car wigging out.

How willing are we to roll away our stone? As I said a few days ago, if we are going to try to be like Jesus, we have to do what he did. Now, Jesus, didn't precisely roll that stone away on his own, but the stone was rolled away, nonetheless to discover the body behind it. What the "rollers" discovered was something far different than they could ever expected. They discovered that Jesus was not who they really thought he was--broken, limited, human. They discovered him to be the one with a mission, son of God, sent and called by God. I hope, hope, hope, that allowing the committee on ordained ministry to roll away the stone in my heart and soul that it has revealed a person with a call and heart truly after God's own heart.

Lent 5

Once upon a time...

There was a squirrel that really liked nuts. He lived in a tree and he looked around for nuts. His name was Nutty. One day, Nutty was looking for nuts and he saw one on the ground. He went down to get it but there was a fox. The fox growled at him. And the squirrel growled back. The squirrel won. The end.

If anyone out there (other than the person who told me this story) reads this, it makes no sense at all. But let's just say that I'm drawing inspiration from this little David and Goliath-esque story. Tomorrow, in all I do I pray to be like Nutty, but not too nutty. :)

So very thankful for good friends who love and support, no matter what.

Lent 3 and 4

Disclaimer: Youth event Friday and Saturday kept me away from internet access. I still wrote, but I'm posting those two now.

Walking on Water (Friday, March 11)

And Peter answered him, “Lord if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat and walked on water and came to Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, “Lord, save me.” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him, saying to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

While talking to a group of youth tonight about Peter, Peter’s journey, and an earnest desire to follow Jesus, this scene came to me in a new way. It hit me like a sack of bricks, actually. We’ve heard this story a million times. Peter sees Jesus walking on the water and Jesus invites him to join him. And then he got out of the boat, walked on the water for a moment, but then got scared and started to sink.

Tonight, reading this story again, I connected to it in a way I never have before. Here’s the scene I pictured. Peter (looking out across the water) says, “Hey, Jesus, is that you? If it’s you, call me out there and help me do what you’re doing.” “Come.” A simple, serious command. Come. Peter steps out on the water and walks across to Jesus. Practicing the secret to balance (don’t look down, focus on where you’re going), Peter’s eyes were fixed on the eyes of Jesus. He made it, on top of the water, all the way out there. I’ve always taken the story at face value..Peter got distracted by the wind and the waves and all of a sudden got scared. But what if before the distraction came the pride? Peter says, “Hey Jesus, this is amazing. I’m on top of the water. Look at me. Look at what I can do. Hey guys, I’m walking on water..” And when he became focused on himself, his own “coolness”, his own ability, he noticed that the wind and the waves were all around him. And he started to sink. And still…STILL, Jesus reached out a hand to save him.

I’ve been struggling this week with some things. Actually, I’ve been struggling with them for quite some time. There are some things I need to do to follow what I believe in my heart to be God’s call. And for so long, I’ve put it off, put it away, and now I feel overwhelmed by all that I’ve pushed away. I keep asking myself, over and over and over, why have I let it get this far? The answer: fear. I’ve been under the false impression that what I’m doing, what I’m working towards is something I’m doing on my own. Look at me. I have to do this. I have to do this on my own. Of course I’m scared when I think I’m out there on my own. But God didn’t say “Come!” on your own. God says, “Come.” And when God asks us to do things, it’s not do them on our own but to participate in what God is doing in us.

But still, Jesus reaches out a hand.
 




Disciple Now (Saturday, March 12)

Seeing God today was easier than it’s ever been, I think. From getting up in the morning and greeting the day with joy and love to a great Bible study to some wonderful fellowship to worthwhile missions to fantastic fellowship to heartfelt worship… We, as Christians, are called to bear witness to Jesus Christ who was and is and is to come and to help one another and the world see glimpses of the kingdom of God in the here and now and bear hope for the good future in God. As exhausted as I am, I know that’s what I’ve seen today. In study, we learned the Christ who was, the one who lived and died and was resurrected. In fellowship, the light of the living Christ came through the youth and adult leaders in the true joy and love they showed. And watching them (and participating with them) in service to the community today was a great symbol of hope for the good and final future promised to us. These young people leaned into the community, giving of themselves, doing work and sharing in conversation in ways that seemed more mature than I would have expected from them.

A brief post today, but all I need to say is that today I saw the living God who was and is and is to come…everywhere.

Confession

Lent 2

Yesterday, I felt pretty good about myself, writing all about the beauty of Ash Wednesday and the season's ability to make us understand our frailty and brokenness and mortality in ways that bring us closer to God. I will admit that I felt a need to, in some ways, play up the beauty of the symbol of Lent as it reflects human brokenness. Here's my confession...that was all well and good yesterday, but it was harder today when my brokenness was showing. Today (well, it started yesterday), events have transpired which have left me riddled with anxiety, overwhelmed with nausea, a little asthmatic, at times catatonic, and just in general, a bit weepy. No joke. Sad times.

So my first thought in sitting down to write, as I committed to do, was where in the world did I see God today? Well, I'll tell you. Even when I have felt my absolute worst (which, today ranks pretty far up there), God is always there. Always. The fact that I woke up this morning and showered and pushed myself past the very strong urge to stay in bed...a gift. The fact that I got up for the purpose of taking control of my day and the events which have led me to the edge of a nervous breakdown...a gift and the moving of the Holy Spirit. The fact that God shows up in the people who surround me each and every day...a gift, the moving of the Holy Spirit, and the incarnational ministry of those who serve a living God. Today (among many other days), a couple of people took an extra step for me. A few extra minutes spent doing the job I was supposed to be doing, a warm smile, and loving hug and parental kiss on the head, a bought cup of coffee, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, and a shared meal. That's where I saw God today, and I pray that I will see God there everyday. The love of a friend is nothing more than the love and light of the living God shining through.

And lest you think I am taking back my post from yesterday, I still believe in the beauty of the season of Lent. The journey toward Easter is about walking toward reconciliation, resurrection, and the final perfection of all things. Sure, my frailty was out there for the world to see, but Easter people surrounded me, showing more fully than I can understand on my own, the kingdom of God.

Lent 2011

Lent 1

Ash Wednesday has arrived again. Today, we begin Lent and we gather in worship communities all over the world to observe this day. One of the things I think our non-liturgical brothers and sisters miss out on in not observing the season of Lent is the intentional confrontation with the spiritual journey we travel with Christ towards Easter. For those who make their whole lives intentional in this way, I commend you, but I must admit that in the busy and the crazy and the lazy, sometimes I forget to live life on purpose. There is no time of year that I live life more on purpose than in these 40 days (plus Sundays) leading up to Easter.

This past weekend, I preached the sermon in my church and in doing so, invited the congregation to join me in being transifigured with Jesus. (The text was the Transfiguration, of course.) I offered two things we need to do in order to be practitioners of transfiguration. One, you have to shine brightly the light of Christ. And two, you have to walk the walk of Christ. Specifically, at this time of year, we observe the walk of Christ down from a mountain where his glory was celebrated back into a valley and down a dusty road. He was walking, with a great (though troubling) sense of purpose. He walked towards his own death.

We, in this season of Lent, walk with Jesus towards Easter. We spend time-intentional time-attending to the spiritual disciplines meant to bring us into deeper relationship with God. In doing so, we seek to find some of those things that are getting in the way of letting Christ's light shine fully through our lives.

And it is in this day, Ash Wednesday, that we most readily understand the message of the life of Jesus Christ. God came to humanity in the flesh in order to confront mortality for us. When the pastor touches an ashen finger to your forehead, looks you in the eyes, and says, "From dust you came and to dust you shall return," you cannot help but confront your own human frailty. A couple of weeks ago, a pastor friend of mine told me about an Ash Wednesday early in his ministry. He said his wife brought their baby son to Ash Wednesday service. He'd imposed the ashes upon many foreheads before his wife reached the front of the line and it actually startled him to see his wife and fairly newborn son in front of him. Putting an oily ashen thumb to his son's forehead with the promise of dust and the remembrance of repentance transformed his thinking.

So, Lent 2011, I hope to live life on purpose every single day. I will try my best to see God in everyday. I will try to walk this walk and I will hopefully, in doing these things, try to rinse off some of the grime and dust that has been filtering the light of Christ that should be shining from me.