She Rev Writes

ReLENTless

2012-02-07T16:51:00.000-06:00

I'm doing a lot of hemming and hawing about Lent today. OK, it's been more than just today, but when hot cup posted about a foiled Lenten plan it just got me going again.

I'm in that place where I think I'll take a crappy canned sermon over the void of ideas I'm having myself. I know I'd feel different as soon as it showed up in the mail, though. I know I want to do a series of some sort. I'm not feeling particularly tied to or excited about the lectionary, but I don't know what else I should do, what I need to do in this particular time, in this particular place.

I'm a little less traditional in my own beliefs and comfort with the language of Lent as a "journey to the cross." My theology of the cross has a lot less guilt and traditional atonement theory, so while it's important and part of the story that gets us to resurrection it's not so much of a highlight in my personal theology as say the empty tomb is. The cross says more to me about humanity than it does about God's grace. And when people talk about the empty cross vs. the cross with the body, it seems to me that they really want to talk about the empty TOMB and the full cross. Anyway, that's another post altogether. Yet it does get tot he heart of my struggle with preaching in Lent I think at some point in the history of the worship and the liturgical calendar Lent turned much more guilt-ridden than I think it was initially.

From what I remember from seminary and what I've been reading around this week and last, there were basically three different traditions that sort of turned into what we call Lent. One was an extended paschal observance that started at first a few days, then up to 40 days before Easter. The second was the final preparation of catechumenates for baptism. The third was a period of penance and self-examination for those who needed to reunite with the church, to recommit themselves to faith. It feels like if we're doing anything with Lent at all anymore we're turning it into an extended Good Friday, berating ourselves for all the horrible we do, instead of making it a period of good, focused work on transformation, of recommitting ourselves to practices of faith and spiritual disciplines that strengthen us as disciples of Christ and the people of God, culminating in the celebration of the resurrection, THE transformation of all transformation, the new life into which we are baptized.

I watched a documentary when I was at an Arts and Sabbath conference in Montreat, NC last fall. One of the artists (don't ask me who or when or what movie, I wasn't paying attention that well) said this, "Spring doesn't begin on the surface; it begins below...." That's what I think about Easter and, therefore, Lent. New life, renewed faith, doesn't begin at Easter. It starts earlier. It starts with the hard work of Lent, working before, working below. Something is happening before we get to that time of rebirth and resurrection, and THAT'S what I want to talk about in Lent. What has to happen to get us to Easter, to resurrection, to new life.

I've thought about trying to draw from the ancient Lenten spiritual practices - penance, almsgiving, fasting, etc - as springboards for sermons on transforming our lives as disciples. If I go this direction I'd like to open Lent up as a time that's not "just for Catholics" but celebrate (maybe that's not the best word) the ways it can enrich our lives of faith.

On another hand (it's not "the other" because I might come up with a third or fourth hand eventually, I'm not sure) I've been pushing pretty hard during this Epiphany about God's reversal of life as we know it, and the invitation to join where divine work is happening in the world. Epiphany has been our season of "God is on the loose" in the world. I've spent a lot of time naming the way God REALLY IS a part of the world. I've included invitations to join God out in the world (especially out of our church walls and the myth of needing prop up the institution) each week, but I'm beginning to think Lent should be about this more. It feels like Lent should be more nitty gritty about getting ourselves out there to follow.

Ideally, I'd like to find a way for these two ideas to intersect. Maybe they do. While the first feels more personal and the second more missional, I'd like for the personal to always be misisonal, so maybe I need to work on that. I sort of feel it. I think I can even connect some of the sermons I have delivered during Epiphany to spiritual disciplines or practices that support the way God is on the loose. Like last week I talked about how Jesus was on the loose proclaiming the message; this could be paired with a Lenten sermon (with example from the congregation for SURE) on giving testimony. Maybe the Epiphany sermon about casting out demons (naming evil) could be paired with one about acts of justice and solidarity. If there aren't an equal number I can add in ones that don't necessarily match up for with Epiphany sermons for disciplines of giving (a mid year stewardship sermon NEVER hurts), fasting, etc.

Hmmm....is something finally brewing here? Sometimes I need to just start writing about my struggle for the Spirit to start working something out. Maybe tomorrow or Thursday I can flesh it out a little more after I have sat with it a little more.

God is on the loose and proclaiming the message

2012-02-06T17:22:00.002-06:00

Mark 1:29-39

Thanks to modern technology while I watch more TV than I probably should, I don’t watch a whole lot of commercials. Ordinarily I zip through the advertisements placed in the shows I’ve recorded which make my evenings, especially in election years, much more pleasant. There is the problem however, of watching live sports events. When I do that I just have to bear with it and watch what’s there. Thankfully, every once in a while, there’s a clever ad that makes it all worthwhile. The image you see in front of you is a still shot from one such commercial.

I can laugh at it because in some ways I see myself in it. The folks there are waiting in line outside an electronics store. While it’s not named the stereotypes involved and the hints about their phones tell us they are Apple lovers - - not the fruit, but the products… like my own iPad here, like the iPod I use when running. I don’t have the phone, but you can catch my drift. I can see myself when I’m being parodied.

Anyway, these Apple users, shown in cities all across the country, are waiting in line at the electronics store, somewhat excitedly, somewhat grumpily, for the next update to their precious phones to be released when they notice something right in front of them. They see young men and women using a device that they can see is almost exactly the one for which they are waiting. ALMOST. The screen is bigger, the picture better, the service clearer, but…it’s not their beloved brand. It’s a Samsung. You can see the looks on their faces. They are defeated. They are behind. They are very clearly left out of the next big thing.

Being left out is a feeling we all know in one way or another. Whether we have been left out on the playground when teams are being picked, or the sorority or fraternity in college, maybe among a group of friends gathering for dinner, or hopefully not, but possibly even in the life of the church when it becomes dangerously close to a country-club-type existence, being left out is one of those universal human experiences. For some it is even one of the biggest fears about living in relationship with other people. There’s this nagging worry that somehow, somewhere we won’t know what is happening, we won’t be included, we’ll lose our place in the community.

Simon’s mother-in-law was left out. A fever had her left out. She was stricken with illness, confined to bed, and unable to go about her daily tasks, unable to fulfill her role in the family, in the community. Right away Jesus heals her without much fanfare and though her immediate return to service could be written off as a burden of women in a patriarchal society, there’s a hint to more in the way that it is reported. Immediately upon being healed, she began to serve them.

It doesn’t say she waited on them or helped them. She served them. It’s a word reserved for a special purpose. It’s the word used to describe what Jesus’ purpose is, he “came not to be served but to serve” (Mark 10:45). It’s the word from which we get our word for deacons, an ordained office called to serve the body of Christ and the world with compassion.

Immediately upon being healed she returned to her call, not all of womankind’s call, not to be “in the kitchen where she belongs,” but her call, her ministry, her place of service. Immediately upon being healed she was brought back into the role she held, she was no longer left out of the circle of people who are fulfilling their purpose, living their life with meaning, doing what they are meant to do. She was healed so she would be able to serve. So really, she was healed so she could be sent out.Mark pairs this healing with the exorcism we heard last week. They lose a bit of their combined impact when they are split over two Sundays like this.

Mark writes this first chapter of his gospel with such urgency. Everything happens “immediately.” We lose a bit of that when we divide the fast action of one day over the course of two or even three weeks. However, as soon as they left the synagogue, the crowd with its collective mouth still dragging on the floor, Jesus and his new brand disciples went straight to Simon’s mother in law’s bedside. In three quick verses she’s healed and up fulfilling her divine call.

The exorcism and the healing are placed side by side, and they go hand in hand. In the first a man who is gripped by an unclean spirit is freed from that possession. A man who is cast out from society, ignored, worse, even shunned for the evil that holds onto his spirit, is released from that captivity. Jesus brings him back into the circle of companionship. He who is left out is brought in.

In the home of Simon’s mother in law, the reverse takes place. She is used to serving. She is used to working among people. She is used to showing compassion and hospitality, but she is laid low by a fever and can’t participate in her called role. She is left out, but left out in a different way. A woman who is already accepted by her community, used to GOING OUT, used to serving others, can’t. She is held back. She is left out from the privilege of using her God-given abilities.

Yet, Jesus reverses both conditions. The one who is cast out and shunned is brought into wholeness and community. The one who is held back and insulated is sent out to serve. This, Jesus says, is the message he needs to get out and proclaim. It’s what he has spent his day proclaiming with his actions; it’s what he proclaimed from the minute he started his ministry. “The time is fulfilled, the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news” (Mark 1:15). It’s the whole reason, he says, that he is on the loose – to proclaim the message, a message of reversal, a message of repentance.

Repent! We hear the word and we think of the folks whose eye contact we avoid, carrying signs, shouting on street corners, lining the walkways into sporting events and political debates. “Repent!” Jesus proclaims as he travels the countryside and people come flocking. “Repent,” we hear, and we shrink away, turn aside, and start to feel guilty for what we did or didn’t do. We think of being made to feel guilty or getting caught. We immediately berate ourselves for being jerks, punishing ourselves as we think we should be punished, taking God’s job and making it our own, which we are really really good at doing.

But that’s what we’ve done with the word. Or at least that’s what’s been done to it in our presence, and we have just gone along with it. The folks on that Galilean countryside, however, heard it different. They heard it in the way Jesus enacted it as he displayed the exact ministry, the exact kingdom of God that came near in him.

Repentance isn’t about feeling guilty and groveling. It isn’t about beating ourselves over the head, stopping us in our tracks, rendering ourselves immobile. In fact, the call to repent is one of the most active calls in the gospel. It’s not a call to shame; it’s a call to action. It’s not like screaming “Stop!” It’s like screaming “Turn around! Come this way!”Repentance isn’t an exercise of the mind or the perfect words we speak in prayer. Repentance is the reversal of our way of life. It’s a turning away from whatever keeps us from living in as if God’s kingdom has really come near and turning toward the good news. The message Jesus proclaims, and the action to which he calls us, is one of complete reversal. Those who are left out are brought in and included. Those who are broken are healed in order to make others whole.

In this one day in Mark’s gospel, in Jesus’ first day on the job, Jesus shows the message he proclaims. Jesus shows the message we are also called to proclaim. The kingdom of God is near. The way God intends for the world to be is coming close. In this person, in this Jesus, we will see what it’s all supposed to be like, and the shocking thing is that everything we thought was true, everything that we thought held power and was holy and was blessed isn’t necessarily powerful, sacred, and desirable. Jesus spends the rest of his ministry expanding on what he started in this very first day.

He takes the least holy, the demon possessed, and cleanses them, brings them in, and gives them a place at God’s table. He takes the broken and sick, and touches them, lifts them up, heals them, and sends them out to serve in his name. He points to those who are powerful in the world, leaders of armies and nations, and declares their power is nothing compared to God’s. He looks at those who guard the temple and the presence of God and shows them their building is empty; God’s Spirit cannot be confined to sanctuaries made by human hands. He says the peacemakers are blessed, not those who divide and conquer. He says the poor wll inherit God’s kingdom, not those who try to buy it with their wealth. He says the sinners are welcome, not those who see no need for grace in their life. He says the old will not get tired. He says the young have credibility.

This is the message he proclaims. This is the good news he scatters through the countryside. This is what it means to repent, to go in a completely different direction, to go in God’s direction. This is what we are called to proclaim in his name - - an amazing grace that shatters the assumption of the world in which we live, that breaks down the barriers that have been constructed around God, that calls for a complete reversal of the way we are used to treating each other, ourselves, and God. We are called to proclaim, to ENACT a kingdom that is entirely different from what the world expects, a world where the weak are not whole, the poor are excluded, those of different races aren’t even considered fully human.

That world is not what God desires. That world is full of unclean spirits. That world is sick with the fever of injustice. That world is NOT REAL. The kingdom of grace, the kingdom of renewal, the kingdom of welcome, the kingdom of servanthood, the kingdom of reversal is real. The kingdom of God is real. And the kingdom of God is near. Believe it. And proclaim it. Amen!

God is on the loose and casting out demons

2012-01-29T13:22:00.003-06:00

Mark 1:21-28

He was a divided man. You could see it in his disheveled hair, hiswild eyes, his fidgeting hands. He justcouldn’t stopmoving, correcting himself, going this direction then that trying to keep hisbody and his mind under some kind of control when all they wanted to do wasrace away just out of reach, where he couldn’t get agrasp of his own self. Sometimes itmeant that he just couldn’t stopshaking, that man who was there in the synagogue. He couldn’t stopcrying out, speaking at all the wrong moments, saying all the wrong things,shouting out when everyone else was composed, pulled together, perfectly…appropriate. The rest were calm and focused and attentiveto the worship leader, but he was, he was, possessed.

Somethingelse had a hold of his body and mind. Something else was fighting for control of the thoughts he was thinking,the moves he was making, the words that danced on the tip of his tongue. Something else had entered into his body, hislife, and whatever it was it was holding him captive, gripping him, so tightlythat he couldn’t breakfree from its bounds. It was evil, boththe way it tormented him inside and the way it separated him from everyoneelse. The way it separated him from God.

Somepeople pitied him, sorry for whatever he had done to deserve this hell onearth. They looked down their noses athim, wished it would go away for his sake and for theirs, but never gettingclose enough to see if there was anything they could do. Everyone feared him. What held him was other-worldly. It was demonic. It was unclean. Was it contagious? Could they catch it? If they were near him would his fate jumpfrom his life to theirs? Would they beinfected? Would they be shunned the waythey shunned him? Would they berelegated to a life divided, a mind divided between two wills, a body dividedbetween two masters, a spirit divided from God?

Hepitied and feared himself. He couldn’t remember a time that it wasn’t like this – so terrible, so horrific, socompletely out of control. He longed fora way back to the way things used to be, knowing life wasn’t perfect, but at least it was onelife, one mind, one spirit. When hecould close his eyes to dream even just for a moment dreams that weren’t painted with demonic colors hecould imagine his life without the spirit, even just for a moment, and it feltfree. It felt light. It felt…divine.

Uncleanspirits. Demons. Possession. Exorcisms.

Wedon’t quite know what to do with thesethings, do we? Maybe I should just speakfor myself. I don’t quite know what to do with thesethings. It’s not everyday conversation for me except when one of these difficult passages shows up onthe preaching calendar. I knew a pastoronce who claimed he could smell evil spirits when they came near, but that’s not the kind of thing you heareveryday, especially from us nice controlled, reasonable, level-headedPresbyterians. These sorts of things,these sorts of accounts feel just a bit outside of my reach, and when I comeface to face with Jesus’ ministryof casting out demons I get a little squirmy, a little uncomfortable; I feel alittle lost.

Thisreport of an unclean spirit challenges my modern or post-modernsensibilities. It throws me for a loop,and then unfortunately, often, it gives us an excuse to just skip over thisimportant act of God in Jesus – the firstmiracle Jesus performs in this gospel. While there must be something important here, there must be somethingincredible going on, it’s soforeign to my understanding it’s temptingto skip over it, ignore it, and stuff it in the back of the drawer.

Understandingsof the demons in Scripture range from the literal to the symbolic. But however each of us understands the uncleanspirit, there's one thing on which most of us can agree. The demon that possesses the man in thesynagogue is disrupting the life God intended for him. The possession is in direct conflict with thewill of God in his life. That’s what “unclean” means. Uncleanliness in the Jewish tradition was nota physical dirtiness, it was a spiritual corruption. It meant that the creation that God had madeand called good had not suddenly turned bad, but that there was something thatwas marring it, something that was smudging it, something that was separatingthe good creation from the perfect Creator who had molded it. There was a layer of “ICK” betweenGod and God’s belovedcreature, and things were not as they were supposed to be.

Inthe case of an unclean spirit, however, you understand that, literally tometaphorically or somewhere in between or somewhere undecided, it means thatsomething is holding onto the man before Jesus, something is vying for controlof his thoughts, words, behaviors, and spirit. Something is working hard todistort the will of God, successfully it seems, and things are not as theyshould be in the kingdom that Jesus’ proclaimshas come near. That’s a demon I can get my headaround. That’s a demon I have seen and known.

Ihave been possessed by demons of jealousy. I have wanted what others have so badly that I have forgotten who I amand with my own thoughts and unquenchable desires have muddled and tarnishedthe image of God within me. I have triedtoo hard to be something other than what God created me to be, working againstGod’s impulses in my life.

Ihave been possessed by demons of pure anger. I have held grudges that built walls that restricted the flow of God’s love through me. They have artificially blocked my experienceof God’s loveflowing to me. They have held me back fromreconciling. They have held me back fromforgiving. They have divided my mind,body, and spirit so that as Paul says in the letter to the Romans, “I do not understand my ownactions. For I do not do what I want,but I do the very thing I hate…For I donot do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.”

Haveyou known these demons to possess you? Maybe your demons are other demons. Some people describe their unhealthy cravings for alcohol, drugs, orgambling as demons. Others speak ofungodly and all-consuming desires for money, for power, for prestige thatcontort their understanding of what God has said is important, thedivinely-given vision for what leadership looks like, the Christ-like call toservanthood. Demons of deceit mar God’s will for openness and honesty. The demons we know from the inside or outthreaten our relationship with God; they distort our understanding of thereality God has created, the kingdom Christ has brought near.

Goingbeyond the individual experience we can see demons in the world in attitudesand institutions that perpetuate racism. There are demons that possess society distorting God’s will for wholeness for all people,for abundant and healthful and grace-filled life for all of God’s creation. There are demons that we allow to divide ourspirits, to compartmentalize our faith so that the church is all too silent onissues of fair wages, just working conditions, and accessible health care. There are demons that we allow to divide ourwitness as followers of the God who welcomed those who were cast aside,ignored, and even stoned by the rest of society. There are demons that possess our minds,convincing us that somehow someone else will take care of the poor, the lonely,the widow, the orphan, those far and those near who are enslaved by economics,enslaved by greed, even enslaved by real people not just overseas in desertsand jungles, but 20 miles down the road in the human trafficking trade andprobably less than a mile down the road in our own town.

Thesedemons are real. They are present in theworld. They present among us. They are present in our lives. They have everything in common with the demonthat held the man in the synagogue in that they grip us, they toss us around,they replace our impulse to live a life in close communion with God, in therealm of God, by the design of God, right here, right now. They separate us from God and from thecreated order as God intended it to be.

Thesedemons are real, but they will not be tolerated. That’s what wesee in the gospel according to Mark. Jesus doesn’t deny thedemon’s existence. He doesn’t ignoreits reality or smooth over its effects. But he also doesn’t acceptthat what he sees is the way it has to be. Jesus refuses to let the man live a divided life. He refuses to allow him to be held captive byanything that stands between a child and his God. He refuses to let this man’s world continue on the trajectory itis following and right there in the middle of the synagogue, surrounded bypeople who are watching, waiting, and wondering what he will do about thisdisturbance, this disruption, this denigration of God’s will and God’s creation, Jesus commands that unclean spirit to comeout.

Itisn’t pretty. It isn’teasy. It doesn’t come without convulsions andcrying, but he does it. He sends theunclean spirit away with audacity and authority, and it works. He does the same for us. The demons thatplague our lives, the demons with which we sometimes even conspire, are not apart of God’s will anddesire for us. The demons in ourneighborhoods and our nation are not a part of the reign of God that Jesuscarries into the world, and he’s notafraid to cast them out. He does thesame for us and he asks the same of us.

This is howGod is on the loose. This is the One wecommit to follow. It’s not safe. It’s noteasy. It’s notcomfortable. It’s rarely neat and tidy. It means letting Jesus cut out and throw outthose things that grip us and hold us back from following him fully andcompletely, those things that stand between us and our God. It means taking a look at what’s right in front of us and callingthe demons demons. It means, looking atthose things in our lives, in our culture, in our society, in our communitythat hold us back from being a part ofGod’s kingdom of grace and welcome andjustice and refusing to tolerate their existence in our midst. It means we can’t ignorehunger. It means we can’t deny the disparity between rich andpoor. It means we can’t excuse corruption that holds peopleor corporations to different standards of decency. It means we can’t remainsilent when we have gathered what we need, when we have moved on to what wewant, when there are others lagging far, far behind.

This is howGod is on the loose in Jesus our Christ. This is how God is on the loose in the world. So, if we really mean what we say when wesay we want to follow him, if we really mean what we say when we say we want tobe his disciples, then it means we have to stand up and take action. We have to be a part of the reign of God thatcounters everything that stands in the way of God’s grace,and love, and peace. We have to calldemons “demons” and we have to be a part of castingthem out, healing what divides, and letting the reign of God come pouringdown. May it be so for us and for theworld. May it be so.

God is on the loose and calling us to follow!

2012-01-22T22:21:00.000-06:00

Mark 1:14-20

A couple of years ago I signed up for a Twitter account. Twitter, if you’re unsure, is one of the many social media networks that is, bit by bit, changing the way we receive and react to information in our world. In 140 character messages users, who range from your neighbors to world leaders, send out information to their friends, their acquaintances, their fans, and the world about what they’re doing, what they’re thinking, where they are, and in too many situations what they ate for lunch that’s now giving them indigestion. Personally, I bounce on and off of Twitter. I can only take so much information for so long, so I go through waves of using it and not.

The whole system works by encouraging people to “follow” one another. If you’re familiar with Facebook this is sort of like “friending” someone. Each user of Twitter can customize what tweets they see by choosing whose messages they want to appear in their feed. You can follow your friends and make plans for coffee, talk about your afternoon, or react to that bad call the ref just made at the football game. You can follow acquaintances you have bumped into because of shared interests in politics, sports, or career paths. Do you want to know what life is like after Star Trek? Follow TheRealNimoy. Do you crave a sound byte of wisdom to get you through the day? Follow the DalaiLama. Do you want to know what the soup of the day is? Follow Keys Café.

You can even follow Jesus - - - or at least one of a myriad of funny and not-so-funny jokesters pretending to be Jesus who tweet on his behalf every day. Like one of my favorites “JesusofNaz316” who tweets things from the absurd, like “Blessed are they that have highly unusual names, for they shall likely land jobs at NPR.” To the wise like “Be ye thankful for nurses and nurses aides.” To the occasional thought-provoking and faith challenging like “Grace is not a thing to acquire. Grace is an action to perform.”

Yes I follow Jesus - - - on Twitter. Do you think that’s what he meant?
Apparently this cartoonist didn’t think so….

But sometimes I’m not sure our more conventional and accepted means of following are that much better.

My week from last Saturday Jan 14 until the end of the day on Wednesday Jan 18 consisted of no less than 5 meetings thick in Presbyterianism. In those days I was a part of conversations, meetings, and church business sessions on just about every level of our church organization. There was a presbytery meeting one day, a congregational Nominating Committee another, two straight days of synod business (the organization of the church that covers the upper Midwest), and our session met on Tuesday night. At the same time this week my eyes and attention were turned toward a meeting of some Presbyterians from all over the nation taking place in Orlando. Every level of our denominational structure was before my eyes and thoughts and prayers as some point this week, and if you saw me and you thought I was looking dazed and confused that was probably why.

There is a lot going on in Christ’s church at every single one of these levels. There is a lot that is going on that seems good for Christ’s mission, but at the same time there is also some anxiety about the next step in the life of the church, the future of the church in the 21st century, that is causing some stress in the system. As I was involved in some of these discussions, as I “followed” others on Twitter, I kept coming back to our Scripture passage for today and heard myself asking, “Is this what following is all about?” Put another way, is the institution of the church trying to follow Jesus in best sense of the word, in the way the disciples followed him or is the institution more worried about saving itself?

Don’t misunderstand me here. I am not suggesting that we throw our structure out the window and go it alone. I could ordinarily be accused of being sinfully proud of being Presbyterian. We are in no way perfect, but I believe whole-heartedly that the Holy Spirit is working in and through us. I believe whole-heartedly that most of what we try to do in our life together is in the name and manner of Jesus our Lord. I believe our structure, however complicated and convoluted it may seem sometimes, is a good a faithful way to support disciples of Jesus. However, at some point in each of my gatherings or conversations this last week, I found myself asking “Is this what following is all about? Is this making fishers of people?”

My question led me to look further at what it means to be disciples even just by looking at how the first disciples were called and how they followed. The first thing I noticed right off that bat is that Jesus didn’t call the disciples to build a church. He didn’t call Simon and Andrew, James and John and tell them to go build a building, write a constitution, and organize committees. He didn’t pull them away from their nets and their boats, their families and their co-workers for the purpose of creating an institution. He called them to follow him, and he promised that they would gather people.

That’s it. He didn’t tell the how to ordain, who to ordain, or even TO ordain people at all. He didn’t tell them the kind of building to make or who would own it. He didn’t tell them what committees they would be on or even that there would be committees. He invited them to follow him, to go where he went, to do what he did, and to bring other people along. And he did all of this without even mentioning the church. In fact, in Mark’s gospel, Jesus and his disciples spend precious little time in any sort of house of worship, be it a local synagogue or the temple in Jerusalem. They visit occasionally, but it is not the scene of most of their action. Most of their ministry takes place not among people who are already on board, who already believe in the promises of Jesus, but among those who have yet to hear and experience the good news of God’s love.

This isn’t to say the local church and even our regional, national, and international partnerships are bad. Jesus certainly does NOT deny the importance and the gift of the community. When disciples are sent out in his name to heal and teach and forgive sins, they are sent out in pairs, presumably to support each other, to work together, to hold each other accountable. Jesus pulls his disciples aside as a group in order to spend time with them and build their community, again for mutual support and teaching about the kingdom of God. He entrusts to them the work of building up that kingdom and sets them out to work on that task together, but he doesn’t give exact directions of how their life in community will be and doesn’t make the maintenance of that community the center of everything he teaches.

I think the church can be a very very good and effective tool for supporting ministry, but ultimately the church has got to be about enabling the people of God to be disciples of Jesus, his followers called and sent. Everything we do in the church, locally in our Property, Education, and Membership Committees, regionally as a presbytery supporting pastors and congregations or as a synod building larger partnership, nationally and internationally in denominational structures, everything we do in the institution of the church has got to ultimately be about equipping people to follow Jesus and display his grace in the world.

The church can’t exist simply to maintain itself. We have not been called into being just to add numbers to our rolls and gather together once a week. We are called to follow, not like Twitter by keeping our ears open for the next little thing he says, noting it and then walking away. We are called to follow with our very footsteps, our lives actions and activities, God who is on the loose, moving in this world, healing those who are broken, forgiving those who have fallen short, loving those who are unlovable, touching those who are untouchable, welcoming those who have been excluded, ignored, and shunned by the world and society in which we exist, the world and society which we are tempted to replicate even in our churches. We are called to invite people to join us, not boost our egos by adding to our numbers and get magic credit in the sky or even to ensure our institution lasts forever. But we are called to share what we have experienced in Christ’s grace and include more in our community to learn from each other, to support one another better as we take seriously the call to be disciples, learners, witnesses, and servants of Jesus our Lord, Jesus our God.

Last week we heard the account in John’s gospel of Jesus calling some of his first disciples. In that story, Jesus got his first disciples the way many people find new people to follow on Twitter, they were recommended to him by a friend. John the Baptizer recognized Jesus as the Lamb of God and two of his disciples then became disciples of Jesus. In Mark’s gospel this week the first disciples come to Jesus when he calls to them while they are hard at work, casting a net into the sea. They are fishermen. Jesus is walking along the Sea of Galilee when he saw Simon and his brother Andrew, apparently standing on the shoreline. With little else to convince them of his importance or divine nature, he simply says to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.”

It makes a great children’s song, but I often wonder why they bothered to follow. Fishing for people may sound interesting, but it doesn’t put food on the table. Simon and Andrew first and then the brothers James and John after them, walked away from their livelihoods to go be with Jesus. James and John left their father in the boat with the hired men to follow some guy who just called to them on the beach. They risked everything they had - - their source of daily food and income as well as their inheritance down the road. In one moment and with one decision they left stability behind and walked away instead with someone who promised them people over food.

It’s a strong and daunting model of discipleship. Following Jesus is anything BUT just clicking on his name and reading what he has to say every day. It isn’t anywhere as easy as scrolling through his thoughts, retweeting them in our feed if we think they are particularly good on any given day, but virtually forgetting them when the phone is turned off a few minutes later. When Jesus calls disciples to follow him, when Jesus calls US to follow him he expects us to drop everything we’re doing, get out of the lives we might otherwise live, and follow him.

Jesus’ “follow” is a completely different “follow” than we have come to know - - whether we’re talking about following on Twitter or following a news story or following a conversation or a line of thinking. Jesus’ “follow” is about much more than just keeping track of where something is going. Jesus’ “follow” is active. It’s sacrificial and it demands our commitment to Jesus’ mission of wholeness for all people, grace in the face of opposition, and a reversal of the powers of this world. This is what it means to be a disciple. It’s not about building an institution that occupies a building; it’s about participating in the kingdom of God. It’s about following Jesus into the world where he is working and inviting us along. It’s about displaying his presence in the world so boldly that the nets of his love will be full.

Credo: Saved for love

2012-01-17T11:48:00.001-06:00

Going to heaven or getting to heaven is not why I believe. It's not really even on my faith radar. It's not something I think about like ever. I don't wonder what heaven will be like. I don't wonder if there will be angels on clouds or harps and golden halos. I rarely if ever even wonder who will be there or who won't even me. It's just not something I take the time to think about and definitely not worry about. I don't think this is a bad thing but I do think it can be an obstacle in my ministry sometimes because there are a whole l lot of people who do worry about these things. It seems like the "right" answer if it were going to come from my lips would reduce their anxiety, giving them comfort and peace, and maybe just maybe free up some of their mental energy to give back to the cause of working on making the kingdom of heaven visible here on earth.

That seems way more worthy if my time and effort. That's what excites me much more than spending a whole lot of energy trying to teach people the right answer to give to the right question, the right prayer to pray to save their right souls, or the right formula to recite at the right moment to convince themselves or others they know the one and only way to anything.

Salvation in this way just isn't my concern and it isn't at all why I believe or even what I believe. In fact if this is what salvation means I'm not all that interested in being saved anyway.

I don't believe in God because I'm looking for an escape from the fiery pits of hell. I don't trust in Jesus because he's going to snatch me out of the hands of a horned devil. I don't look to the Spirit so that I will be swept away from terror and devastation. I believe and trust and do my best to follow because the love that I hear about seems right. The injustice that I witness is wrong. The gap between human beings of different races, genders, sexual identities, ages, abilities, and resources is far to large and frankly artificial. It's just not right. I believe in God and trust in Jesus and hope to follow the Spirit's leading because the witness and the testimony of the faith that had come from this Triune God says that the way I am experiencing creation is not the way it's supposed to be, but the right thing to do is not to try to escape it and abandon it. The right thing to do is to be a part of the divine will to fix it.

For me salvation is not about trying to get away from the distortion of what creation should be like and could be like; it's about trying to reverse the direction we find ourselves going. I'm not looking for salvation to take me away from this world; I'm looking for salvation for this world (including me), a saving grave that will wake up in humanity the realization that all of God's creation is worthy of love and compassion and care and life, and likewise grace that will wake up in us the impulse to work toward that truth. I don't believe that God intends to save us FROM much of anything, but instead wants to save us FOR a whole lot more than soft white clouds, chubby angels, and all the golden and pearly riches in the world. God is saving us for relationships with one another and with the Divine. God is saving us for a creation where all people know and believe their value, their acceptance, and their status as beloved children of God.

If we are being saved from anything, we are being saved from ourselves and our own desire to work things only for the improvement of our own lives instead of the life of all creation. This less than usual view of salvation, I think, doesn't disregard the reality of sin, but it might just redefine it. Sin is anything, personal or corporate that dishonors or ignores or works against the reality of God's inclusive love. This of I treat others as less than beloved children of God worthy of compassion, care, and life, I sin. If I treat the earth as less than the blessed creation of the Triune God, I sin. If I treat my relationship with God as anything less than one in which I am loved wholly and completely and sacrificially (a word that I might need to expand on later because I'm fairly certain I don't mean it quite the same way as it is often used in Christian circles), I sin. If I treat God as less than the source of everything, the source of love, the source of compassion, the source of truth, the source of all that can make this world right, I sin. If I treat myself with less regard than God has willingly and freely given to me, I sin.

So I'm certain beyond all doubt at all that I sin. A lot. A whole lot. I contribute to the messed-up-ness (It's a technical theological term. Look it up.) of this world all the stinkin' time. Admitting you have a problem is part of the journey toward recovery, right? I admit it in my personal conversations with God. I admit it when I worship and pray corporately with others. I try to admit it directly to the people I hurt with my words, actions, and inactions. I probably fail at this one the most. I recognize that I sin and I offer up my recognition and my desire to change not because I trust that it will get me out of this world any faster, not because I will be suddenly stamped with a "saved" stamp like a "priority" sticker on a package in the mail. I confess how I am a part of what is against God's will for creation because I believe that in doing so God will turn me in a better direction. I believe that God will show me a better way to be a child of God. I believe that God wants to use me to help creation move in a divine direction. I believe that God wants to save me for love.

The image above is one I found just with a Google image search at this website: http://www.lesyeuxdumonde.com/artists/Thompson/ I know nothing else about it except that it is by Esme Thompson, it's called "Credo," and it was created in 2005. I can't even express why I like it for this post, and for what I imagine could become a series of posts, but I do. I love it.

God is on the loose and doing great things!

2012-01-15T14:20:00.008-06:00

John 1:35-51

Due to the unique arrangements we had this year for the Christmas season this is the first time I’ve been up here doing this in a while. It feels good to be back, even if it feels a little like the first workout at the gym after a few too many weeks away. It’s familiar, but at the same time new all over again? One of the things I enjoyed about the way we shared our Christmas season with Mt. Zion Lutheran Church was getting to hear sermons in the midst of our worship together. It’s not often that I get to do that when we worship together, here in this space. I was uplifted by Pr. Brian’s proclamations, and I hope you were, too.

On Christmas morning and the first Sunday after Christmas, Pr. Brian used a refrain a couple of times that stuck with me even until today. It stuck with me enough to become the guiding theme for my messages this Epiphany season. I wrote about it in the January newsletter a little bit even. Did anyone else hear it? Do you remember it?

When he was talking about those first verses from the gospel according to John, those beautiful words of poetry we call the Prologue, “In the beginning was the Word, and Word was with God, and the Word was God,” Pr. Brian summed it up this way, “God is on the loose.” That’s what Christmas announces to us. That’s what the incarnation is about. God has left the heavenly throne, put on the clothing of human flesh, and is on the loose - - living, breathing, walking, talking, healing, teaching, calling, and maybe most of all disturbing. God is on the loose.

Christmas tells us this is true in Jesus, but Epiphany tells us what he’s doing and calls us to be a part of the action. God is on the loose. The way John describes it in that Prologue is mysterious and exciting, cryptic and intriguing. “He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him.” (John 1:10-11) We’re immediately drawn into the story of the Word’s presence and activity wondering how we will react. Certainly, we assert we will accept him. Certainly we will see his glory, full of grace and truth. Certainly, we insist we will know him when he is right before our very eyes. God is on the loose.

For a few disciples the intrigue and the testimony of John the Baptizer was enough. Having heard John’s account of the Holy Spirit descending on Jesus as a dove and trusting his proclamation “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” they follow Jesus. Accepting his invitation to come and see. One of them, Andrew, came, saw, and believed enough to go to his brother, Simon Peter, sharing the good news of what he had found. Simon Peter was on board from the start. The next day Philip’s recruitment went similarly. With little other urging, he is simply found and invited, “Follow me.”

But the fourth disciple takes a little more work. This on-the-loose God maybe be exciting, scary, or intriguing enough to bring Andrew, Simon Peter, and Philip along easily, but even with the curiosity factor up, even with some attention being paid to this Jesus, Nathanael isn’t quite so easy to convince.

Nathanael doesn’t jump right in with both feet. Nathanael’s got some questions, some doubts. He’s skeptical about this run of the mill, backwater preaching. Everyone else is calling him every messianic name in the book - - Lamb of God, Son of God, Rabbi, Anointed - - but really? This guy? Jesus, from, of all places, NAZARETH? Has anything ever good come out of Nazareth?

Nathanael’s question is a good one. It’s not completely out of line. We all want to see a few credentials before we sign onto something, don’t we? We all want to know who it really is that we’re going to follow, that we’re going to trust, that we’re going to look to for advice, wisdom, ummm, especially salvation from what binds us and a revisioning of the world in which we live. A little sign. A little proof. A little SOMETHING, ANYTHING to show that this guy, this Jesus, the one from Nazareth is really THE One.

Nazareth is not quite the hometown people expected. It’s why Luke in particular goes to great lengths to tell us about Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem. Nazareth, Jesus’, hometown is sort of a nothing. It’s not an important port city. It’s not a fishing village right on the Sea of Galilee. It’s not the home to the temple. It’s not a place where Moses did anything. It’s not even mentioned ONCE in the Old Testament, certainly never predicted to be the place from which God’s Messiah comes. Nazareth, is, well, a bit unorthodox as the starting point for the work of the Son of God. Nathanael is justified in asking his question. Instead of being the exception, in fact, I sort of expect his doubtfulness to be the rule, the normal reaction to this spur of the moment invitation.

We understand it, don’t we? We love our credentials in this day and age. We like to know what the experts and the non-experts think. Some of us will watch hours of television analyzing the big football game before it starts this afternoon, then hours more after it’s all over to see what the commentators think. Others spend all sorts of time pouring over the business and finance sections of multiple newspapers and magazines to read what the experts think about the investments we’re considering. Many of us won’t commit to reading a book or seeing a movie without finding out who liked it or how many stars it got. On Facebook we can give people’s pictures, activities, locations, restaurant choices, travels, hometowns, and businesses a virtual thumbs up to show our approval and support. All because we want to know how something is going to go, what it’s going to be like before we commit to following.

Nathanael got a glimpse of what it means that God is on the loose. Detecting his skepticism Jesus flashes his divine credentials with the display of his omniscience card. When they finally meet, Jesus tells Nathanael where he has been, under the fig tree, where apparently Jesus had not been to see him. It’s a neat little trick that displays Jesus’ divinity, but even he sort of blows it off as unimportant, secondary to who he really is, what he really came to do. Seeing Nathanael under the fig tree when he wasn’t their physically is NOTHING compared to what it really means that God is on the loose. Jesus promises better things, greater things, than that to Nathanael if he just comes to see.

Even though Jesus dismisses the foresight as less than what he can do, I think sometimes we find ourselves wishing for a magic sign or two of God’s presence. I hear all the time people, church members, skeptics, agnostics, the faithful, even pastors, I should say ESPECIALLY pastors, wishing and hoping for a sign. Anything. A little magic zap here on earth so that we can see that God is really here, so that we can know what we are looking for is really around, so that we can trust the one who we say we want to follow really is Jesus, the Messiah, the Anointed, the Son of Man, God on the loose. We look for those little signs, lamenting that bushes don’t burn without being consumed anymore, people who are blind aren’t healed before our very eyes, the seas don’t part at the outstretched arms of a man, and a star hasn’t appeared over the stable where a woman has given birth.

We look for the kinds of signs we have seen in Scripture for a time gone by and we lament that they aren’t repeating themselves before our eyes. But that doesn’t mean that Jesus isn’t here. That doesn’t mean that the Spirit isn’t moving. That doesn’t mean that God is not on the loose. Our signs aren’t absent; they’re just different.

When our church family wraps its arms around those among us who are struggling with cancer – - driving each other to doctor’s appointments, vacuuming each other’s homes, making soup, making phone calls, sitting through long and lonely chemo appointments - - God is on the loose!
Last year when over $3000 was donated and raised for this church to distribute to those in our church family and our community who are having trouble making ends meet, who need just a little bit of relief given in a way that upholds their dignity, not as a thoughtless handout, but a thoughtful and prayerful act of compassion - - God is on the loose!
When a 3rd grade girl committed her body, her time, and her energy to run 50 miles in order to raise money for our partnership for the Bridge for Youth and Young Adults with Disabilities and adults supported her with sponsorships - - God is on the loose!
Two adults this year went on national mission trips to assist with hurricane and flood relief, the first two trips for adults in mission from this congregation in several years because - - God is on the loose!
When we prayed about a difficult decision to go in new directions with youth and family ministries and when God's presence was confirmed through the addition of Shelley on our ministry team - - God is on the loose!
There was over 60 children being ministered to through our summer day camp and the camp in a van we hosted this year. - - God is on the loose!
We celebrated 3 infant baptisms and one adult baptism upon profession of faith. - - God is on the loose.
And when God's dreams were bigger than the financial support we anticipated, we saw evidence of God on the loose when generosity abounded and our needs were met beyond our expectations.

But the thing is, if these are the signs we can point to in order to see that God is on the loose, that Jesus really is in front of us, in the midst of us...
If these are the signs we have like the sign Nathanael had, then the promise made to Nathanael is also a promise to. God will do even greater things among us. The Spirit is stirring up even more in this church. Jesus is working even greater miracles in us and through us.

We are hearing Jesus' call to show compassion and mercy to those whose lives are devastated by acts of nature; we are hearing Jesus' call to provide more opportunities for adults to travel on mission trips.
We are hearing Jesus' call to let the children come to him, to witness to children with our own words, with our own adults, our own teens, about God's love for them through a Vacation Bible School.
We are hearing the Spirit's call to offer emerging forms of worship and education to include generations and populations from our community missing from our traditional ministry offerings.
We are witnessing the young girl who ran 50 miles for others last year, recruit at least 50 young people to run with her this year to more to make an even bigger impact in the name of Christ in the world.

If Jesus has done good things for us and through us in the past, come and see, because even greater things are yet to come. Even greater things are being dreamed and planned and pulled out of us than we ever imagined before.

It is true. We have seen it with our own eyes - God is on the loose. Look, here is the Lamb of God among us. Come and see.

(Sorry. Couldn't resist this picture from The Brick Testament.

One Holy Night - extended play

2011-12-24T08:08:00.006-06:00

(I used the title "One Holy Night" based on the mini-ad campaign our congregations used to share our joint services with the community - - Two Churches, One Holy Night. I'd really called it "Birth Stories," though, if I could change the bulletin and if I cared. Not much of a sermon title person.)

Luke 2:1-20

Every birth has a story. Every single amazing, unique, miraculous or heartbreaking, birth has a story. A story that probably gets told again and again of how a child was born one freezing winter night when Mom and Dad almost didn’t make it to the hospital because the roads were so bad. A story where things were touch and go for a while, but in the end it all turned out OK. The same story that didn’t end quite the same. A story of how a child was born in the hearts of two parents due to the selfless of another mother who gave life in more than one way. A story of hours and hours of walking and wondering and waiting and worrying, that finally comes to fruition in a wiggling wonderful newborn child. Every birth has a story. And tonight we have come together to remember one such story.

There is no such thing as a mundane birth, as I learned more than once, but especially when the birthing class we took before our third baby was born met for a reunion. With little ones in arms, we told our stories to one another, often starting with, “Well, it wasn’t too crazy” but ending with the drama of a lifetime. Literally. There were stories of fast drives and long waits. Scary heartbeats and tired mommas. But more than anything there were stories of people - - first time moms and dads, over-zealous grandparents, attentive doulas, excited siblings, reassuring doctors, stern nurses, compassionate complete strangers. The medicine gave the facts of the birth, but the people made the stories.

The same is true of the birth that brings us here to worship tonight. The people involved makes the story. The account in tonight’s gospel began with the Emperor of the occupying nation. His mention sets the scene in a somber way. The people of Israel were not in charge of themselves. They were not in control of their own land. A Caesar from another land was calling the shots, and seemed to have control over all the world.

Yet if we are not new to this birth story, we know that it began long before the census was demanded. You could say it started hundreds and thousands of years ago with patriarchs and matriarchs, judges, kings and queens, and prophets, but none of us have the time tonight to hear all of THOSE stories. But still, the birth story goes back a little further than just Augustus and his need to control the world.

In Luke it goes back to and elderly priest and his wife, righteous and living blameless before God, serving in the temple and living if not content at least resigned to the understanding that that their age they apparently were never going to be parents. Highly respected in their community, trusted with the important work in the temple, then suddenly blessed with a miraculous child, the messenger who was born to prepare the people for the Messiah.

Then there’s the heavenly being, Gabriel, who scares the voice out of Zechariah and makes an unbelievable announcement to a trusting and faithful Mary. Confident of his messages that confused their recipients, with compassion he offered signs to confirm their truth. Angelic and authoritative, he was the first to deliver the good news to Zechariah his and Elizabeth’s prayers had finally been answered more fully than he could have imagined. And to Mary, not her prayers, but God’s will would be accomplished through her. He was the one she would tell about forever who was with her in her moment of realization. She would bring forth life, the life, that life that was the light of all people.

Joseph doesn’t get mentioned until the actual birth narrative gets going. His presence is the connection to family of David. It’s minimal, but it provides a stability that is needed in any birth story. I can imagine his grumbling and frustration at the thought of taking his very pregnant companion all the way to Bethlehem from their hometown of Nazareth. His protective annoyance at the lack of space when they get to town and realize her time is near.

And then there are the shepherds in the field. Not the most highly respected profession in the area, but certainly a necessary one. The shepherds were in the fields literally minding their own business when suddenly they are dragged in this cosmic story by a heavenly host of screaming angels. Rough and tough, dirty and smelly, on the opposite end of the spiritual and societal spectrum from Zechariah and Elizabeth who started this whole birth story, the shepherds fulfilled the role of adoring relatives, coming as soon as the birth was announced to adore the child, filled with awe and wonder. And like the proud grandparents and siblings, aunts and uncles, cousins and godparents, they told everyone they met about the baby they saw.

The birth story of Jesus is as full of family and acquaintances, strangers and interlopers as any birth story we could tell, but all of them, each of them has an important part in the most important birth story the world has ever heard, the birth of God into creation, the in-breaking, the incarnation of God in the world. And look at all the people who were used to make it happen, all the different kinds of people God used to bring love into the world and share love with others. From Mary and Joseph, to Zechariah and Elizabeth, to angels and shepherds - - unwed parents to a priest in a temple, heavenly messengers to earthy workers, everyone had a part in this amazing story of God’s gift of love, God’s act of love in coming to the earth as one of us. These diverse and varied people, as diverse and varied as each of us who have gathered to worship tonight all over the earth, had a part in bearing God’s love in Christ Jesus into the world.

Earlier on I said that we were here tonight, on this one holy night, to remember a birth story. It’s true in one sense, but in another it’s not true enough. We are here to do more than remember the story of Jesus’ birth. We’re here to do more than retell the events, to sing songs, even more than share in a holy meal and light candles as symbols of the light of Christ that shines in the darkness.

We are here to find our place in this birth story that took place a couple thousand years ago and takes place again and again even now. We are the people in the story of Jesus’ birth into our world. We are the men, women, and children who are receiving unbelievable calls from God to participate in God’s love in our schools, in our community, in our workplaces, and in our families. We are the Zechariahs and Elizabeths in places of honor and respect who will carry unexpected blessings. We are the shepherds and the innkeepers with little to offer, but ourselves and our words. We are the Marys and Josephs, chosen to navigate treacherous roads to make sure the inexplicable inbreaking of God’s presence takes place exactly where God wants it to, in the middle of a crowded, bustling world. We are Lutherans and Presbyterians from Mt. Zion and First Presbyterian, we are family members and visitors from churches of all flavors, and probably even some whose church participation has dwindled over time. But tonight we are here, this one holy night we have gathered, and tonight we are part of the birth story. We have been called into the story of Jesus who was born to continue God’s story of grace and truth and love, God’s promise of blessing and salvation and redemption. We have been called into the story of Christ who is born into our hearts and our lives, and at the same time we are being called out of the shadows and giving Christ’s light to carry into the world.

This birth story unites us. This birth story is one common thread in our lives and in our faith. It has drawn us together so that even if we gather few other times together to worship, each us felt the need, the importance to gather together tonight. We can’t let the story stop here. We can’t let the gospel end at the manger, because the good news of God who came to live among creation did end there. This birth story, this Christmas story we have begun on this one holy night, must continue on so that our families and friends, our community and our culture will know that Christ is born! God’s love is here to stay. With our united witness, the actions of our lives, and even our words, if necessary, may we share with others what the Lord has made known to us!

We Made It!

2011-12-17T17:16:00.000-06:00

A sermon for David and Andrea's wedding (and a picture from the iPad toting pastor)

Ecclesiastes 4:9-12
Proverbs 3:1-6
Song of Solomon 8:6-7

Whew! We made it. "We" I like how I just inserted myself right in there. It's your wedding. You made it, so right here, right now just take a moment to breathe, to calm down, to take it all in. You made. We made it. We all made it.

That is actually true. This wedding, any wedding, is a communal event and communal effort. That's kind of the point of the whole wedding. It's the reason you plan and organize and invite and set up menus and and make favors and MOST importantly it's why we gather in a church for worship. This wedding, any wedding, isn't something you want to tuck away in a courthouse with just a couple of people witnessing. It's an occasion on which we all want to celebrate, to give thanks to God for the gift of the love David and Andrea share, to pray together for their relationship and the life they begin together today, to promise our support through the smooth times and the rough. Really, in some way, every person in this room and even many who are absent, made it. We made it to this day, this worship, this blessing. We made it.

One way many of us try to participate in this communal event is with advice. Right? David, Andrea, I won't ask you to rat anyone out, mostly because I don't want to hear my own name listed, but tell me, did you get ANY advice as you were preparing not just for this day, but for your marriage? Did anyone offer you their nuggets of wisdom about planning a wedding, combining your daily lives, living together in plenty and want, joy and sorrow, and all the rest? Yeah. I thought so. If there's anything the community is good at before a marriage begins, it's offering advice.

Well, at the risk of looking like one more person doing just that, I'd like for us to listen for not more human advice, but divine wisdom and promises and blessings as we look to the Scriptures of our faith that we just heard.

In a number of ways the passages we heard lifted up the blessing of interdependence you will experience in even deeper ways once you are married. It's interesting to me how as children and teenagers we struggled so hard for our INDEPENDENCE, but once we met reality face-to-face, once we experienced the complexities the independence of adulthood brings, we suddenly realize how it's not all it's cracked up to be. Independence makes life hard, as the Teacher in Ecclesiastes points out. A man who seeks to do it all himself has no one to help him up when he falls. A woman who shuts herself off from others can't feel the warmth of friendship and love when cold and lonely times set it.

The loyalty and faithfulness spoken of in Proverbs are keys to this interdependence. The promises you will make to stick with each other through thick and thin, turning to no others but each other will strengthen your love as it grows into the unquenchable flame of Solomon's song. Looking to the loyalty and faithfulness of God for each of us as our example and inspiration, and relying on the same for strength and forgiveness when the inevitable trials come into your human relationship, will guide the journey of your life together, making your path straight.

An important piece of this interdependence, of course, is the presence of God in your life and your love. The Teacher ended the description of blessed relationships with what I like to call divine math. David, maybe you can make sense of it with all your programming and computer stuff, but maybe, just maybe it's beyond even your understanding. After speaking about how two keep each other warm, help each stand after a fall, protect each other in times of struggle, suddenly the promise refers to a cord of three strands.

Trust in the Lord with all our heart. Do not rely on your own insight. Let God's will and God's love and God's grace become so intertwined with your own that the cord of your marriage can never be broken, that the flame of your love will never extinguish, that your path together will be straight.

May God bless you as you begin your marriage this day.

Comfort and Camel Hair

2011-12-04T13:09:00.002-06:00

Isaiah 40:1-11
Mark 1:1-8

I was extremely grateful when Shelley popped in my office a couple of weeks ago to recommend that our congregation use some Advent material that she had found. I hope you have found it in the weekly e-mails, and you’ll see it in the newsletter that is available in the mailboxes this morning. There is a series of devotions for each week of Advent centered on Scripture each week. The Scripture is the same we are reading in worship and using at our candle lighting. The artwork for the materials is what appears at the start of our worship. The materials tie everything together in worship and at home, making our Advent season of waiting and preparation more than beautiful decorations in the sanctuary.

This morning the theme from the Advent materials and the words to our first hymn (one of my FAVORITE Advent hymns) was taken straight from the prophecy of Isaiah that we just heard. “Comfort, O comfort my people.”

“Comfort” was the promise of God to the people of Jerusalem and Judah, a promise that was actually surprising in its original context. Jerusalem and Judah are not exactly sympathetic characters throughout the prophecy of Isaiah. Personified here and earlier, the city and the nation are again and again recipients of the judgment of God, victims of the captivity of Babylon because again and again their disobedience to God left them vulnerable to outside forces. They didn’t heed God’s call, so God allowed what one parenting strategy calls “natural consequences” to occur. The enemy comes in, destroys the nation, and sends her people into exile.

Retributive justice. It was not only the going theory of criminal justice of the day; it was the going theology of the day. You get what you ask for and then maybe you get some more to make sure you never do it again. Punishment. Anger. Payback. What goes around comes around, but in a divine manner.

But here comes Isaiah speaking for God, “Comfort, O comfort my people.” In the face of cultures and theologies that operate on methods of retributive justice, a word of comfort spoken by God is completely unexpected, completely unheard of, completely gracious. A word of comfort spoken in a season that seems hopeless, seems empty, seems overwhelmed by things going from bad to worse. A word of comfort spoken to people who so desperately need it, but who can’t promise to always deserve it. “The grass withers, the flower fades…surely the people are grass.”

Comfort, comfort is a promise of the season of Advent. Comfort, God promises to people who sit in darkness. Comfort, God promises to those who are overwhelmed by bills. Comfort, God promises to those who grieve. Comfort, God promises to those who are lonely. Comfort, God promises to those who are imprisoned by their actions, their attitudes, their anger. Comfort, God promises to those who are so far over their heads they can’t even imagine a way out. Comfort, O comfort, God promises to bring on a highway cut straight through the wilderness of despair. Comfort and tenderness and gentleness. Grace…

And there’s this voice that also comes crying. Just like Isaiah said a voice would cry, “Prepare the way of the Lord!” There’s the other voice that comes crying out in the wilderness the voice of John the Baptist. When Mark begins his gospel he doesn’t have time for a narrative of Jesus’ birth. Mark is writing quickly, the earliest gospel after Jesus’ resurrection. He is getting the story down on paper as soon as he can after he heard it, and for WHATEVER reason, he doesn’t have time for a story of angels appearing to Mary and Joseph, shepherds in a field, or wise men from the east. He has to get to the meat of what’s going on, and the only preparation he offers to this story of good news that he has to tell, is the preparation of John the Baptist, a man who exudes feelings of anything BUT comfort.

His place of work is the Judean countryside. He doesn’t walk from city to city, town to town, or village to village. He wanders around in the wilderness where resources are scarce and comforts even scarcer. He wears clothes made of camel hair. My experience with camels is limited, but what I can tell you is this. If you find yourself riding a camel in the Israeli desert, make sure there is a saddle or blanket. That hair is dry, and prickly, and itchy. It is NOT good shirt material. He eats the bugs he finds in grass – locust, the bugs of the Egyptian plagues. Comfort is not his lifestyle, and really, as much as we want to hear it, comfort is not his message.

“Repent!” he cries out in the wilderness. “Repent!” he calls to those who are waiting for a savior, waiting for the Lord. “Repent, turn around, change your ways,” he calls to us so that we will be ready for Jesus.

This is about that time in my family’s preparations for the OTHER part of our Christmas celebration that we start to make our lists and check them once, twice, three or four times. Have we put up whatever decorations will make it up this year? Have we baked whatever we can in advance? Have we taken a family photo, bought cards, even thought about writing a letter (knowing that for the most part this section of the list will never actually get completed)? Have we bought presents for the kids, parents, nieces and nephews? What has been done to prepare us for the day that that is coming and what is left still to be done?

Hearing the ministry of John the Baptist in Mark’s gospel, really HEARING it and taking it to heart, forces us to check in on our other preparations for the coming of Christmas, the coming and re-coming of Jesus our Christ in our lives. What is missing in our relationship with God? What commitments and disciplines haven’t we made or have we let slide? Is prayer a part of our daily lives or is it something we just do when we gather on Sunday? Is serving others something we make time for not just at Christmas when the needs of the world are ringing in front of our faces at the entrance to every store in town? Are Scriptures more than just a tag line on the beautiful cards we selected or are they are part of our family’s conversations?

Are there too many other things in our lives, crowding out the necessary time and attention a REAL relationship with God requires? Is too much time spend clicking on the phone or computer, too little spent in study and prayer? Is too much energy given to attending to our own comforts, too little lifting up others who can’t even worry about comfort when they’re just worrying about survival? Is too much money being spent on extravagant gifts, too little spent making a faith statement about the causes of Jesus’ kingdom - - the poor, the outcast, those treated without grace and mercy?

“Repent!” John’s baptism proclaimed. Turn around, turn away, come back in the other direction. “Repent!” his preparation declared. Come out of the bustle of the city and town that you know into the blessed wilderness of life with Christ. Life that is unknown. Life that is dangerous. Life that is lacking the creature comforts and luxuries, but life that is dripping with the Spirit and presence of God. “Repent!”

Comfort! and Repent!

They seem like contradictory messages leaving us wondering how exactly we are to approach this season of Advent. The answer is one we probably each need to discover for ourselves. The answer is that our God has the grace and the mercy to come to us with both messages knowing that depending on where we are in our lives we may need either one or both. This may be a year where you are feeling the exile. This may be a year when you feel isolated, cast out, cast aside. This may be a year when the Lord’s presence has felt so far it feels more like the Lord’s absence and you are craving it to return and return soon. And to you, the prophet Isaiah says “’Comfort, O comfort my people,’ says your God…. The glory of the LORD shall be revealed…. Here is your God!”

Or this year may be another year for you. It maybe be the other side of the same coin, the reason John the Baptist quotes from this same passage in Isaiah, but in a different way. This may be a year when you are feeling a bit too comfortable. This maybe a year when things have been going too smoothly. This may be a year when the focus has been inside all the time, not outward to God and God’s kingdom and purposes in the world. This may be a year when the direction has been moving away from the divine, away from the Word, away from Christ who comes to guide our lives, save us from ourselves, send us out in his name. For us, the prophet John proclaims repentance, another direction, a time to turn to God, and for the very same reason, “The one who is more powerful…is coming….” Jesus is coming. Jesus is near.

Prepare the way this Advent. The God of comfort and the God of new beginnings is coming in Jesus. Prepare your way for the Lord.

This is the church

2011-11-07T15:24:00.000-06:00

To you it looks like a cute (albeit short) baby covered in lasagna (or at least, I hope that's what it looks like). To me it looks like the church.

Margaret's still in a cast. I posted the picture a few days ago of her in the bed at the hospital right after the cast was put on. It looked a little more pitiful than she has been acting. She's actually been awesome! She scoots; she crawls. She rolls all over flipping those big purple legs anywhere she wants. It's no big deal to her at all.

It's been more of an adjustment for us, as these things go, I guess. She can't sit at the table right since she doesn't fit in her usual booster seat (which is why she looks so short). She has to have diaper changes throughout the night took avoid leaks. In the long run it's just a bunch of little things here and there that inconvenience, but no major life-altering difficulties.

In the immediate aftermath of everything, several friends, family, and many church members all wanted to help. We weren't sure what we would need, so as we do in the church food started rolling in. A meal registry was set up on-line (VERY useful), and people started signing up to bring us dinner every other day for two weeks. It was a huge help especially that first week when we were figuring out how to even just do daily tasks with this baby who was 50% heavier than she was the week before, still in some pain, and wanted a lot of cuddling. A little over a week into it we found our groove and likely could have gotten meals together, but people were still signed up. The question came, do we keep accepting meals or do we say "thanks but no thanks"? We kind of like cooking. We had some meals planned before this all happened and hadn't yet used those groceries. We worried that our family inconvenience was a burden to others.

In the end we kept the meals coming. It seems like helping us out was something people WANTED to do. Bringing food is what we do for each other to show our support, our love, our concern. Feeding each other is what the church does, and while we COULD have made do without the meals (we would have figured something out), it was also a blessing to just be fed for a little while. When other things in our lives were a little harder than usual, a little more stressful, a little more difficult, it was just a blessing to be lifted up and carried in that one little way for a while.

The lasagna lasted a while. In fact, it still lasts in our fridge on day 4 or so. It ROCKS! In another day or two, though my husband will be back to cooking those meals we had planned a few weeks ago. At that point it will be this picture that I have to remember this experience of the church -- The Church of the Holy Lasagna -- that fed us, that carried us, that blesses us with her generosity.

Show and Tell

2011-11-06T05:44:00.002-06:00

Mark 10:13-16
Psalm 78:1-7

Despite the morning scramble it sometimes produces, "Show and Tell" is a favorite day at our house. For William it comes every other week, and for Karoline every Tuesday, so you'd think we would have gotten the schedule down by now, but anyway. We don't.

But even with the extra time spent in the morning running around the house trying to find just the right thing to bring to school to show their friends and tell good stories about, Show and Tell is a favorite for my kids. Like Mark in that picture, both Karoline and William got the chance to tell their daycare classes about the day Margaret was born, and show her picture even before they got to meet her. We haven't been brave enough to send a real pet to school like Eric, but pictures of Sophie and even our cat that died years before either child had a good memory of him, has slipped into a turn or two. Show and tell, at least for our children, is more than just a time to talk in front of the class and share your "stuff." It is an important place where they make sense of their lives. It know it sounds like I'm inflating this little classroom activity, but I think it’s true. It's where they get to choose what is important to them and stand up in front of their teachers and peers and declare it. They get to tell their stories, share what they know, remember what they have experienced, and in the telling, in a way, experience it all over again.

The disciples were less than excited about the “Show and Tell” that was taking place around Jesus in the gospel of Mark. People were bringing their children to Jesus to receive his touch, probably for the healing or exorcism that Jesus had been demonstrating, but the disciples wanted none of it. It wouldn’t have been abnormal at the time. Thoughts and feelings about children were much less positive and sentimental at the time than they are now. Children weren’t even better seen than heard; children were better fetching water, watching animals, or working in fields than anywhere else. Children were a commodity more than a blessing, so their presence around Jesus, in the minds of the disciples and many others would have been superfluous, unnecessary, a distraction from the real ministry that needed to be done.

But Jesus had a little bit of show and tell to do himself. “Let them come,” he said. Against all common wisdom, against all accepted understandings, he welcomed the children to him. In fact, he was indignant that they come. He was insistent that his welcome be for all people, young and old, male and female, Jew and Gentile, sinner and saint, wise and ignorant, rich and poor, free and imprisoned. He was adamant that the boundaries the rest of society insisted upon had no authority in his faith, in his family, among the people of God. “Let the children come to me; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.”

“Let them come,” our sacrament of baptism says. Let them come whether they know about God’s love or not. Let them come when they can’t yet choose for themselves. Let the children come and be washed in God’s grace, God’s mercy, and God’s love - - the grace and mercy and love God has showered upon them from the first moment of their existence. Let them come to these waters that remind us of so many other waters that have come before. Let them come to the waters of creation, the waters God tamed bringing order out of chaos. Let them come to the waters of the exodus, the water that God parted in order to bring the children of Israel out of slavery to freedom. Let them come to the waters of justice that roll down like a mighty stream washing away inequality with compassion. Let them come to the water where Jesus was baptized, commissioning him for his ministry and us for ours. Let them come to the water, the river the flows through the city of heaven, bringing life and nourishment to all who dwell there. Let them come to this water that welcomes them into our family of faith, that joins them to Christ and his body on earth, the Church. Let them come.

Let them come, let ALL of God’s children come to table of our Lord. Let us come to this table where our host is also the one who nourishes us. Let us hear and respond to Jesus’ invitation to feast with him here and in glory with a resounding, “Yes!” Let us come to the table remembering the manna that came from heaven, feeding and strengthening the Israelites days by day as they wandered in weary times. Let us come to the table that Esther set before her husband the king where she could speak truth and work for compassion before one in power. Let us come to the table where Jesus eats with sinners. Let us come to the heavenly banquet table God is preparing for us even now where we will feast with all the saints someday.

Don’t you see? These sacraments, these special celebrations and remembrances, these are our show and tell. These are the way we remind one another, the way we tell the children and the generations yet to come, the way we demonstrate to the world who we are, what is important to us, what we believe. We believe in God who welcomes all from the youngest and weakest, to the oldest and strongest. We believe in Jesus who knows our faults and sits with us anyway, who by his acceptance forgives our wrongs. We believe in the Spirit who joins us together with one another and with all people who have shown and told their faith through these sacraments before us, and even those who will come after us. These sacraments that are open not to those who know enough or believe enough or who understand enough, but these sacraments that are open to ALL who have even a mustard seed of faith, these are our show and tell when we utter the things we have heard and known, when we display the glorious deeds of the LORD, when we remember what we have experienced of God’s grace and love. In our telling today and every time we share them, may we experience that grace all over again.

Preaching Blah Blah Blah Blah

2011-11-05T17:30:00.000-05:00

Some thoughts on preaching without a manuscript that were apparently helpful to others:

I have been mostly off manuscript for the last few months for first time in almost 9 years of preaching. I had been thinking about trying it for a while and then took a week long half day seminar about it when I got to try a mini sermon. I've done it for most sermons. I wanted to be very precise with my words on 9/11 so I didn't do it then. I haven't been doing it for funerals, and there was one other week that I accidentally produced a manuscript.

Things I have learned:
1. It doesn't necessarily take less time to prepare, but different time.
2. I am consciously thinking about my sermon even more throughout the week.
3. I have to do all my prep work and organizational planning with paper and pen or pencil or I will end up typing a manuscript whether I want it or not.
4. Structure is everything. I've been going without notes or anything much of the time and it requires a simple, easy to remember structure that makes sense to me.
5. Know your transitions.
6. The stuff you forget to say ususally didn't need to be said anyway.
7. Writing out your last sentence doesn't hurt. I find that winding it up is the hardest part.
8. (I think this one goes for manuscript preaching, too) - One point is enough for on sermon. If you've got more, save it for the time through the cycle or turn it into a sermon series.

Just my quick thoughts. I have loved the change to my preparation flow, but I do miss having words that feel like they are very carefully placed. I'm also still bothered that I don't have a consistent way of archiving what I'm preaching. I have scanned my notes and saved them all in a folder on the computer. Someday we'll start posting video of most of them and that would help.

All in all I think it has been a good move for me. I'd like to get some honest feedback from the folks who have not raved about it. I wonder if they hate it or just don't have anything to say, but some people REALLY like it. Last week was the first time I did the whole thing out away from the pulpit itself.

Service Stations: A Non-committal

2011-11-04T14:45:00.005-05:00

I just got back from the interment for a funeral I did this morning. Sort of. I mean, I did just get back, but the interment was "sort of." The dear saint of God who died is to be buried with her husband who died about 10-15 years ago. I don't know for sure off hand. He is buried in Ft. Snelling National Cemetery. We have had a couple of church members buried there, but for various reasons I have never gone to one of these before. Also, my own grandmother is buried not at Ft. Snelling, but at Arlington National Cemetery with her husband, but I wasn't present for that one either. I don't know if what I experienced is normal for national cemeteries or not. Maybe there are others who can enlighten me.

Put bluntly - - it was just weird to me. I love our national cemeteries (or at least the two I have seen), the uniformity, the artistic quality of being in them, just floors me. I sit in awe. Today while we waited for the cemetery personnel to come pick up our procession and take us to the service site out my window were the back sides of gravestones where wives and children who are buried with their husbands are listed. Two rows in a row there were infants of different families, a son, Tim, in one, a daughter, Stace, in the other, both born at died in 1958, who were buried with their fathers. A couple of rows over from that I could see one stone whose back was engraved only "Baby Girl Smith." She didn't even have a name and that broke my heart.

Anyway, and I digress completely, the thing that struck me today was how incomplete the committal felt - - forgive my pun, but how non-committal it felt. At Ft. Snelling at least, the place where you gather for the "graveside" service isn't actually at the graveside. There several different stations set up around the cemetery with a bench and a vault-sized indention in the concrete. You don't walk across the grass to get to the place where your loved one will be buried. You pull up to a concrete "service station." When we pulled up there was one open cement vault, the lid of it marked with our saints name. There was another vault with the lid on it. I couldn't see if there was a tag on it. At the time I figured it was the saint's husband, but I think now it was an empty vault for the next burial.

In front of the vault was the usual stand with a green skirt around it that I'm used to seeing a burial site, the stand that is placed over the open hole in the ground that the casket sits on top of during the committal. Only the thing is, there was no hole underneath it. There was only sidewalk there. It was just for show. The casketbearers carried the casket out of the hearse, put it on the stand, and then it was my turn to start.

I had my book with me, and started to go through my liturgy, but when it came time for the committal I didn't know what to do. It felt weird. We weren't committing her body to the ground, at least not right then and definitely not right there. It seemed strange to say those words "We commit her body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust" someday (I wanted to add). I just went right on through with the printed words because I couldn't think of something fast enough and appropriate enough to say instead, but it just felt weird.

When it was all over we had that usual awkwardness of being done, but not wanting to leave. We all stood around for a little bit, but the usual wandering through the gravestones to remember dad or mom or talk about who is over here and who is over there didn't happen. Of course, some of that is directly related to the fact that it's a national cemetery, not a neighborhood or family one, but still. It just felt incomplete, and I haven't ever even been to a graveside where you stay to watch the body being lowered in any recent years. Still it felt not yet done.

I haven't read Tom Long's whole book on contemporary Christian funerals, but I've read a few of his articles about the subject here and there. My slight understanding of his argument is that it feels like we have removed ourselves from the earthiness of death, it's reality. I read somewhere his advocacy for accompanying bodies through their cremation which in a (hopefully not strange) way appealed to me. This process at the national cemetery felt like the exact opposite of that.

After we stood around awkwardly for a few minutes (although, in self-reflection, it may have just been awkward for me), the funeral director sort of herded people back to their cars. He could see another funeral party lined up at the appointed intersection waiting for our service station. I got back into the car in which I came feeling unsettled with ministry still unfinished.

Best idea ever!

2011-11-03T16:11:00.000-05:00

I have never heard of this before, but I just had to share. First a long story made really short. Margaret, now 17 months old, broke her femur about two weeks ago while going down the slide with her older sister. It was a pretty dramatic afternoon and evening from when it happened until she found herself in a body cast, but all in all she's doing GREAT.

One amazing aspect of all of this has been experiencing the blessing of grace upon grace from our church family and beyond. We have not had to cook a meal in 2 weeks. Margaret has been showered with cards that make her smile. Lots of folks have offered to help in different ways.

Today I received the most adorable gift basket that I just had to share. It's called a "Sunshine Basket," and it came from the women at the Methodist Church in town. It's a gift they give to caregivers, and it's just awesome. I don't actually know what all the pieces are yet. There are maybe 7 or 8 little wrapped presents for me to open one at a time, day by day. I opened one today, and it was as simple as a tea towel, but I love it. What a wonderful, wonderful idea.

Feel free to steal. I'm fairly certain I will!

Last Meal

2011-11-02T11:43:00.000-05:00

Wednesday, November 2, 2011
If you knew that whatever you ate next would be your last meal, what would you want it to be?

OK. I'll take it a step further. What if I had to pick only from grocery items that are currently in my house? YIKES?!?!

Let's see I'd definitely start with the pumpkin spice cake with maple syrup cream cheese frosting I made over the weekend. We have some salami. I'd definitely have some of that. We have country-style pork ribs in the freezer , so that is my main dish no-brainer. I'm fairly certain I could whip up a mean chocolate cake, too. I already mentioned a dessert, but since it's my last meal, I could have two pieces of cake. What would I have to lose?

I like fancy food, but I default to the things I just love. BBQ would be perfect.

NaBloPoMo: To Write or Not to Write

2011-11-01T21:22:00.000-05:00

So, I did a post a day back in May, and since my blog has been sadly slow for a couple of months now, I thought it was time to do it again. After the last one with the BROAD theme of "maybe" I figured this time I'd go with the daily prompts at NaBloPoMo. That worked out well since I learned that in the actual National Blog Posting Month (November) there isn't a general theme beyond blogging for blogging's sake. So here I go, giving it a try.

November 1 Prompt: What is your favorite part about writing?

That one is easy - - finishing. I do not like the process of writing. I don't like thinking up something to write about. I don't like getting started. I don't like getting stuck in the middle, taking too many breaks, getting distracted then frustrated then eating....

Whew. I don't like the process of writing at all, but I do like when I produce something good for all that work. The writing I do is usually for sermons, occasionally a well-thought out newsletter article, sometimes an important letter or communication. I'm sure my struggles are not unique to my writing and my audience, but in the process of writing I have all these competing worries about my purpose, my readers/hearers who support the idea, my readers/hearers who will be offended or disturbed, people who are on the fringe and may decide whether or not to become more involved based on this one communication, my own thoughts and beliefs and hang-ups, and then there's God. All of those considerations make the process quite taxing to me.

But, oh how I love it when it's done. I feel so complete. I feel accomplished. I feel productive and creative and satisfied. I fulfilled and used, in the best way, if there is a best way to feel used.

This is part of the reason I've gone to preaching without notes. The process of preparing sermons was really becoming a drag on me. I wasn't all the way to burn out or anything, but the late nights, the long writing, it was getting close to not much fun anymore. I needed a change.

I've gone mostly without written sermons since August, but still feel the urge to write down SOMETHING afterward. I haven't done it yet, but it's been bugging me. I've also found that I still need to write my sermons that need to be careful. I wrote the one for the 10th anniversary of 9/11 because I didn't want to misspeak my words. I'm still writing funeral sermons for the same reason, and I don't think I'll change that.

I think I might start writing posts on Sunday afternoon called "What I hope I preached." That would help me get the sermon idea down somewhere more permanently, less formally, but still in some kind of written form. It will be the "finish" I'm still looking for.

Sacred Space

2011-10-19T10:14:00.005-05:00

I know it's kind of random, but I've been thinking about it for a while. I think the Hallmark store is probably one of the most sacred places in a community. It's weird because I haven't been to one in ages, but I've been thinking about the people who do. It is a place solely dedicated to communicating compassion. It is a place completely set aside for connecting people to one another when they are far off and when they are near. it is a place organized around finding the right words, the right message, the right feeling to share with someone whether you are rejoicing when they rejoice or weeping when they weep.

Somehow the card aisle at Target isn't quite the same. The card aisle is on the way somewhere else. It's a point of convenience, not a place of commitment. There are distractions because the kids want to go to the toy section; I want to check out the shoes. We're all afraid we'll forget the bananas leaving Pearl a disgruntled mess the next morning. The card aisle doesn't create the same kind of space as the whole Hallmark store, the same kind of focus, the same kind posture and grace.

I don't know what brought this thought on, but I just started thinking and now I can't get it out of my mind. I think I need to make a trip to the Hallmark store and see who comes to mind.

Gratitude or Grudge

2011-09-18T06:58:00.005-05:00

Matthew 20:1-16
In our worship we also shared this short skit by Andy Lund, modified only slightly for American listeners.

Well, our landowner, Hermann H. Schuster, sure was excited to find the day laborers when he went to the marketplace. Of course, he should be. Needing more laborers probably means there is a lot of work. A lot of work probably translates into a large field and a good crop. A good crop equals a nice profit which certainly stands for security, food on the table, and money to stretch even farther than that.

But as excited as he is to find the laborers I bet the workers are even more excited to find the work. The day laborers in the marketplace aren’t all that different than the day laborers we can see today in parking lots and pick-up points not far from our own community. They wake up each morning uncertain about where the day’s work will be, how much if any money will be made, and wondering if there will be anything to bring home at the end of the day.

The marketplace must have felt a bit like a school yard game of kickball. The workers were all gathered while the landowner and farm bosses came and scanned those who were there. Sizing them up, trying to assess their ability for hard, efficient work. They picked workers like the captains pick kickball teams and most certainly some are left behind. All of the laborers selected to join a team most certainly were grateful to be picked for work, promised a fair daily wage, the usual going rate which would assure if nothing else, he would earn this day’s daily bread.

The landowner was happy to find workers, first in the morning, then in the middle of the day, and even at the end, but his happiness probably paled in comparison to the excitement the laborers felt each time more were added to the work crew. Especially those picked at the very end. Whether they really were lazy like our skit portrayed or they had just been passed over by every other boss and the landowner every time he went back for more, by that late hour of the day they were likely just trying to figure out how they were going to explain back home that there was no food to eat. All of them who were picked, those first in the morning straight on through to those picked just before the whistle blew, were grateful, TRULY grateful just to have some work to do, some money to spend, some food to bring home.

No one in their right mind would have expected what happened when the whistle blew. Those in the morning were promised the daily wage, and however he said it going on in the day, those who were picked last (and apparently those watching them carefully) would have expected payment in proportion to how much they worked. But when payout time came, and the last to be picked were the first to be paid, and they were paid the full amount…!!! Their thankfullness must have gone through the roof. Their gratitude became incomparable! The crumbs they had mentally divided among the hungry mouths at their table grew in their minds’ eye. The servings got larger, larger than they deserved for the amount of work they put in, and they were grateful beyond grateful for what they were receiving, for the unexpected blessing put right in their hands.

As their gratitude grew, however, that of the laborers who worked all day seemed to slip away. It was replaced with first excitement, then anticipation, and ultimately, unfortunately, jealousy. Having been doing the calculations in their heads while in line, they began to assume that instead of getting the day’s wage they had been offered they will get enough money to feed their family for 5 or 6 days instead. They had been promised what was fair and adequate and enough, but they began to hope for, expect even what they didn’t have, what wasn’t promised, what was well over the top.

By the time they get to the front of the line and are paid exactly what was good and fair, every last drop of gratitude is gone, and looking down at their daily bread, jealousy is all that is left. Jealousy when they had received exactly what had been contracted at the beginning of the day. Jealousy and a complete misunderstanding of the unbounded grace they have they have just witnessed and experienced. Their gratitude has been completely eclipsed by their judgment of the situation.

The parable illustrates more than one spiritual truth, but the one that strikes me today, particular as we are gathered to dedicate an overflowing wealth of ministries and disciples in our church, is it is impossible to hold onto gratitude, true and pure, gratitude and jealousy, or even wistfulness, at the same time. We just can’t do it. We can’t be fully and completely grateful for what we have when we are looking longingly at what we don’t. We can’t be fully attentive to and nurturing of the gifts in front of us while we’re wishing they were more, different, or better than what we have.

Let me give you an example - - A few weeks ago, someone sitting with me asked me how, almost 4 years after my family moved here, I was liking Hudson, how I liked my home. Hudson, of course, couldn’t be a better place for my family, I replied. And I mean it. My home I wavered, is working. I’m grateful to have it. Except, well, the carpet in the basement is getting kind of old and grungy. I think about trying to replace it, but some floorboard or something is kind of wobbly, and I’m afraid of what I might find. We love it, though. Really. The location is wonderful we’re grateful for the neighbors we have and our proximity to downtown. The kids’ rooms are big enough, but well, the storage space isn’t great. We’ve got these 1940s closets that really don’t hold all the hand-me-downs and kitchen supplies we’ve collected over the years, not to mention the 3 sets of china we inherited from my grandmother. It’s a great house, really, but if something just right became available….

Did you see how it happened? I didn’t until I was reading this parable. As I wish for what my house is not, my gratitude for a place to sleep, a roof over my head, warmth in the winter, and a cool retreat in the summer just slips away. What I also noticed is that when I get preoccupied with what my house is not, I forget to take care of it as it is.

Maybe you have your own examples, but I think we also do this as a church sometimes. Take the children for example. We are grateful for the young people we have in this church. We say it all the time. We remember a time when in worship there were 3 or 4 kids, maybe 5 who came forward for a children’s sermon (if that?) and we are thrilled that a new generation is here. But then we see what is happening down the road. Or we remember what happened in the good old days with huge children’s assemblies and Sunday School rooms bursting at the seams. Or we think about the church we knew before we moved here and how it didn’t have to worry about a critical mass. We start to talk about what we could do if we just had a few more…. And you can see our pure unadulterated gratitude start to slip away. You can see our attention to the details of the ministry we have right before us start slip. The vows we took at baptisms of children become words we spoke in tradition and nurturing and welcoming the youth we have becomes someone else’s job, the parents, the grandparents, the Sunday School teachers or staff, but certainly not the job of each of us or all of us.

It is very difficult if not completely impossible to be both grateful and jealous at the same time. Grateful and hopeful? Now that is possible. Grateful and appreciative and engaged with what we have and who we are while also recognizing that God can and will do a new thing in and through us. It’s not just possible, it’s our calling as disciples of Jesus. But gratitude and jealousy or resentment don’t fit in the same spirit. Being grateful on the one hand and believing we are lacking on the other is completely impossible by definition. They are mutually exclusive and don’t co-exist in the life of disciples or the church. We have to choose which one we will hold and let the other go.

You were given when you arrived this morning, two index cards. I invite you to find those now and on one write down on one some resentment, some grudge that you hold in your heart, something you believe you lack, or something of which you are envious. It could be something in your own life, your own home, the world you experience on a daily basis, or it could be something you see in this church and our ministries. On the other card I invite you to write down the opposite – some blessing, some area of abundance, something for which you are grateful in your own life, the life of someone else, or the life of this church. They don’t have to be immediately related to one another if that doesn’t come easily.

The point here is that you can’t hold onto both. You can’t hold onto gratitude and grudges at the same time, and sometimes you just have to choose which you will keep and which you will throw away. No one will read these. They are between you and God, so write honestly because honesty matter, and make this action your prayer and your commitment.

(Take time)

I’ll invite the ushers to come forward now. They have the offering plates, but this is not the time for our offerings of money. (I promise, that will be coming later.) Now is the time to offer to God the way we will go forward. It’s symbolic yes, but hopefully it signifies something real. You can only walk out of here today with one of your cards. Choose which thing you will carry with you, your gratitude or your grudge, and which you will give up today. Tuck the one you will keep away, and we will collect and destroy without reading the other.

Will we always be true to our choices? No, but perhaps this exercise can help us be more true. In the end, the only one who is true is the One who came preaching, teaching, and embodying this new life and kingdom, the One whose death and resurrection lets us see and believe that this new life is possible. But let's be clear: while this One is true, he is not fair. Because this One gives us more than we deserve, loving us from the death of scarcity and fear to the new life of abundance, courage, and faith.

(I didn't intend to write a manuscript, but preparation at the computer seems to turn into one whether I mean it or not. In worship I preached this with minimal notes, but here's what I think I hope I said. The general idea, and in this printed version that last paragraph completely, are heavily influenced by David Lose's "Dear Working Preacher" letter this week, That's Not Fair!".)

The Opposite of Fear

2011-09-11T14:39:00.003-05:00

Psalm 27:1-4, 11
Romans 12:9-21

The pastor of a medium sized church not too far outside of Omaha, Nebraska, a friend of mine from seminary, as well as other pastors across the US, received this e-mail this week from their church insurance company.
---------------
Millions of people will mark the tenth anniversary of the 9-11 terrorist attacks during worship services this Sunday. Given the Department of Homeland Security's encouragement to be on alert for suspicious activity, what could your church do to improve safety for members and guests?

XXXXXX Insurance Company offers these suggestions:
1. Station extra people at entrances — Ask additional volunteers to serve as ushers and greeters this Sunday. Encourage them to be alert for anyone who appears out of place. It might be a person wearing a heavy coat on a hot day; someone who avoids greeters, looks nervous or agitated, or an unfamiliar person walking toward the building with a duffel bag or backpack.

2. Put someone in charge — Who would be in charge of responding to a safety incident? If you don’t have someone to oversee church safety and security, appoint a staff member or volunteer to fill this role on Sunday, and begin to look for a person to assume this duty on a regular basis. Be prepared to contact law enforcement immediately if any security threat is observed.

3. Have a first-aid kit handy — If you own one, check to make sure that it’s easily available, fully stocked, and contains up-to-date supplies. If you don’t have one, purchase a kit large enough to serve the number of people who regularly attend your church.

I’m encouraging you to be informed, not alarmed. Because the Department of Homeland Security has urged law enforcement to be on alert this weekend, I wanted you to have some simple, tangible steps you can take to improve safety for your church members and guests.

For more information on church safety, visit the resources section of XXXXXXX.com

Best regards,
The Team at Church Insurance
---------------
My friend's comment when he shard this letter was this "Just received an email from a
Christian insurance company concerning 'three things you can do to live in fear'...I mean 'improve church safety this Sunday.'" I sort of got the same impression he did when I read the text of the whole letter. While awareness of where we are and what is going on doesn't seem like a bad idea in the church, around the community, or anywhere really the use of worlds like "alert," "security threat," and "suspicious activity" as well as invoking the anniversary of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks and the Department of Homeland Security, was in his opinion (and in mine) going a bit over board. After commenting on the various suggestions my friend then wrote, "Don't get me wrong, I love the people I pastor, and I don't ever want anything bad to happen to them, especially this Sunday. But I also want us to realize that when God said 'Do not be afraid' over 300 times in the Bible, he meant it for stuff like this, too."

This letter, whether fully intentionally or not, was written to induce a certain level of anxiety, a certain level of fear in the pastor or church member who received it. Fully consciously or not, the sender of this note wanted to impress upon the church leadership at least enough fear to take the suggestions seriously, to get ready, to be prepared, to make people safe.

Here we are ten years after one of the most shocking national events of my lifetime and the lifetimes of many others - - one of very few foreign attacks on this nation's soil - - and even now sometimes I wonder if we have made much progress in our collective reaction and response from where we were in those first few weeks and months after it occurred. Here we are ten years later and still an appeal to our fear is assumed to be an effective way to motivate the general public - - not even just the general public, but the church-going, assumedly faithful people of our country.

Are we really still there? Are we really still in the same mindset that we were in that pulled this country and others into difficult wars around the globe that we're still fighting 10 years later? Are we really still carrying those same fearful emotions that pull us into ourselves, away from the same strangers, the same outcasts, the same friendless neighbors that Jesus chose to sit with at table and break bread? Are we really still that fearful?

I don't discount fear as a normal reaction not just to the events that are drawn to mind from ten years ago, but to the events we face on a smaller more intimate scale - - to the relationships that we count on that are ending, to the loss of a spouse, a parent, or a child, to illness that threatens life, bullies who threaten safety, an economy that threatens financial stability. Fear is certainly normal, but time and time again, over 300 times in fact my friend declared this week, God in Scripture, through messengers, and in the person of Jesus the Christ declares to us "Do not be afraid." Do not live your life out of fear.

Fear is more than just being cautious, making an emergency-preparedness plan. Fear is that emotion that can grip our heart, our mind, and our life and trick us into thinking we can block ourselves off from all evil, all disasters, all attacks, all pain the might happen, that could happen, that will happen. Fear is that response to the surprising or unknown that pulls us in, closes us off, and narrows our vision and concern to what is immediately around us, what is our own.

Fear is inherently self-centered - - whether the self is truly our own individual person, or our particular segment of the population, our culture, or nation. When we are afraid our vision is focused and our actions are centered on what will protect ourselves over and against an outside threat, with little to no concern for others around us. Fear cuts us off from our neighbors. Fear cuts us off from God.

"The Lord is my light and my salvation," the psalmist declares. "Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?" He goes on to tell us that enemies are at the doorstep, surrounding the camp. Evildoers assail and foes are not far away. This is not a safe situation. There is definitely a security threat! In this or many other passages of scripture God does not romise a completely safe and sanitized existence, but still te psalmist asks, "Whom shall I fear?" How can she say that? How can we?

The opposite of fear, apparently, is not safety. The opposite of fear is not security. The opposite of fear is not happiness. It's not wealth. It's not isolation. It's not uniformity. It's not protection, or knowledge, or comfort, or sanitization, or even preparedness.

The opposite of fear is hope. It's an active belief, an active trust that we belong to God. That even in the worst of times God can weave out of evil, or sadness or despair something good. It's not the belief that God creates the evil we experience or the pain we feel just to teach us something, just to test us or try us, just to have the opportunity to do good. But that out of the wrong that happens in the world or in our lives or even in our bodies, God can still find a way to to bring about something good. Hope is believing that no matter what is going on, God is still present and working for good,even if it's not the good we expect, and then living as if that is true. Hope is allowing the presence of God to fill our lives, fill all the impulses for love and welcome and compassion that have been emptied by fear, so that with God we can move forward in peace.

I want you to find the music insert that was in your bulletin this morning. Turn to the side with the chant called "Nothing Can Trouble." I want you to join me in proclaiming this gospel - - the good news of God's presence and power and not necessarily protection, but promise that we are never alone.

When two planes crashed into skyscrapers, another into the Pentagon, and a fourth into a field in Pennsylvania - -

When the economy threatens our savings, when all thatwe worked for seems to have no value - -
"Nothing can trouble, nothing can frighten. Those who seek God shall never go wanting."

When a wife or a husband of 64 years is suddenly gone; a mother or a father is no longer there to hold our hand - -
"Nothing can trouble, nothing can frighten. Those who seek God shall never go wanting."

When playground, workplace, and relationship bullies threaten to control us and strip us of our dignity - -
"Nothing can trouble, nothing can frighten. Those who seek God shall never go wanting."

When our deepest relationships are crumbling to pieces and we find ourselves questioning what we thought we knew, what we thought we felt, what we thought we believed - -
"Nothing can trouble, nothing can frighten. Those who seek God shall never go wanting. Nothing can trouble, nothing can frighten. God alone fills us."

Let's face no insurance company could recommend a first aid kit big enough to bind all the wounds physical, emotional, and spiritual left behind after a terrorist attack. And acting out of fear isn't going to do anything to prepare us to live in a flawed and sinsick world. But hope is. Trusting in God's promises and the gifts of God's presence in community is.

At our best - - like when we rally after disasters either personal or national, when we set aside our fears of who is different, who is rich or poor, who is black or white, who is gay or straight, who is Christian or Jewish or Muslim or atheist, who is democrat or republican, who is liberal or conservative, who is American or Iraqi or Afghani or Mexican or Egyptian or Saudi Arabian - - we show what it means to live with hope. When we live with love that is genuine, hatred of evil, and holding fast to what is good, we live with hope. We when show one another honor, share our resources with others, welcome strangers among us, we live with hope. When we rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep, when we persevere in prayer, and associate with all people, we live in hope. When we seek to overcome evil with good, then we are living with hope in Christ who overcame all evil to bring life.

And if it feels too soon for you, if the death is too recent, the emotions too raw, the pain too deep, and even hope still feels far away, that's when we have to hold hope for one another. That's when the church has to trust for those who can't. That's when God's promise to be here with us and among us is made true through the community of faith, the Body of Christ, and we must believe and trust and live in hope for each other.

Friends, brothers and sister in Christ, when we live into this hope, hope in Jesus our Christ, then we will find peace. May it be so, may it be so soon.

The beautiful art above, Psalm 46, is by Linda Witte Henke. I found it here.

Friday Five: Work Space

2011-09-09T14:42:00.001-05:00

Funny! A few weeks ago I did a post like this myself, and now it's a Friday Five from Rev Gals. The instructions are to describe 5 things on my workspace. I've got two pictures I just snapped of the mess that is my desk today, too. It's not as bad as it has been, but it's telling of my week, my month, my year, my life.

Here's what's here:
1. A Waterford crystal post-it note holder. For real. When I began to announce my call to ministry and at that time I thought a call to world missions, one of my mom's best friends and an elder in my
childhood church gave this to me. She said it would be perfect for my desk when I was a missionary. To this day it reminds me of the pure love and support of so many people even if they don't always get what this whole ministry thing is about.

2. A glass pitcher from home. Not a permanent fixture on my desk, but something I brought in a few months ago when there was a baptism. We have no pitcher for pouring water into the font, so I just bring the one my husband and I received as a wedding gift. Pier One circa 2003. Clear glass with a blue glass ribbon fused in a spiral around the piece. Works beautifully for the sacrament.

3. Freeze-dried chives. 18-24 months ago, when I was pregnant, I ate a lot of baked potatoes for lunch. The almost empty spice jar just hasn't made it home yet.

4.Yes that is my Hebrew concordance. While I have not used the ancient languages nearly as much as I had hoped in seminary (read: at all), I've been drawn back to them more and more lately. It's not at all surprising that. I've lost most of my proficiency. I wish I could take a refresher course.

5. An olive wood bound New Testament. A church member gave this to me last week. She bought it in 1960 when she was traveling in the Middle East. She inscribed it "Bought in Jerusalem, Jordan." She is very sick with cancer that snuck up on her about 8 months ago. She wants desperately to beat it and lives with great hope, but things do not look good at all. She gave me this book for my ministry. I am realistic about the way her disease is progressing and realize that my first use of it may be at her funeral.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

How I Met Their Father

2011-08-29T11:10:00.002-05:00

Coming over to tell my story (and I think answer some of the questions as I go along). I'll start in seminary. I had the required Pastoral Care class that, for a number of reasons not all related to this topic, left a lot to be desired. That part that was related to this topic, however, was very lengthy and very discouraging. We were WELL TAUGHT to not even think about dating someone in our churches. And it made sense as I learned it. It was cut and dry and JUST SAY NO rule.

Well, life isn't cut and dry and there are very few issues, I believe, that can be handled with a one size fits all rule. I understand that sometimes we are stuck teaching in one size fits all lessons, but the reality is each situation (in this and other settings and topics) is unique. I left that class (at the end of my second of three years of seminary) with the requisite FEAR OF GOD over falling for someone I met at church and a whole lot of my own fear that I would never find a spouse.

Fast forward to second semester of my last year. I found my first call rather quickly. I visited the church in Lincoln, NE in February to meet the committee, they offered me the position at the end of the weekend, and I accepted their offer when I got back to seminary. We set up my weekend to travel back for meeting the congregation and my candidating Sunday for April, two weeks after Easter. That's the weekend I met my now husband.

He is my age, was finishing up graduate school, and worked for the state. He attended the church all through college, but had only joined officially about 8 months before. He was active as an usher and in the young adult group that started as a college Bible study. We met first when he came to the Open House that was provided on Saturday for people to meet me before I led worship on Sunday. He was one of the only people under the age of 35 who came to that, but that was his "norm." He grew up in a medium-size rural church, and you go to stuff like that. You meet the new pastor. No matter what jokes we all tell now he didn't go trying to make the new pastor his girlfriend, and I certainly had no expectation of that myself.

Before this weekend I spent plenty of time on the internet trying to find a young adult group at any other church in town which I planned to join and attend when I moved. It seemed to be the perfect way to meet a group of people of faith where I would not be the pastor, so I could develop some sort of social life outside of the church. My husband stayed at the Open House quite a while, and by the end he and I, the pastor, and another young (married) man were talking for quite a while after it all ended. The next night, after the congregation had voted to call me, I was taken to the meeting of the young adults to meet them all a little more. My husband gave me his business card in order to have me contact him to organize the group when it was time to move my boxes into my apartment 6 weeks later.

I went home to seminary the next morning with a huge dilemma on my heart. I was pretty certain we both were interested in dating. The joke at school was that if I could get him to propose before I was ordained and installed, then it wouldn't be like I was dating and marrying and parishioner. In reality, it happened almost that fast.

We fell into our first date the weekend after I moved to town. All the other young adults were no-shows to a planned group outing. We saw the movie anyway and went to a little party at his bosses house afterwards. Within 2 weeks I told him we needed to meet for lunch to talk. I don't know where the courage came from, but I laid out that I enjoyed dating him and being with him, but it was not necessarily good for me to do this at the church. I said we didn't need to agree to get married on the spot, but at the same time I couldn't just play around because of our situation. He understood and offered to attend another church for a while so that we could see how this went.

I returned to the church and talked to the HoS whose first response was, "Well, what took so long?" He was very wise and compassionate and saw no need for my husband to leave. He knew neither of us would be happy in our church or spiritual lives if we did it that way. He advised me to fill the Personnel Committee in immediately, which I did, and said that the three of us (me, my husband, and the HoS) could help guide the congregation's reaction by being calm, not secretive, but not celebratory. It worked beautifully.

Within a few more week's my husband and I were talking about marriage, and by Labor Day weekend we had a date reserved on the church calendar under fake names; only the HoS and we knew. We went public with our families and the church in October. There was never a negative word or spirit in the congregation or anywhere else.

I think it went so well because of a few things:
1. Who we were and where we were in our lives.
2. The HoS, his wisdom, his demeanor, and his style of leadership in the congregation.
3. The fact that this was NOT a rural (and also solo) call.
4. My husband's respect for the pastoral issues at hand.
5. God. I truly believe that God called us to one another in the same sort of way God called me to that congregation.

It has, in retrospect, made me question the content of my Pastoral Care class in seminary. I get why it was taught the way it was taught. There are certainly abusive situations and there are potentially a whole host of landmines in this landscape. It could have gone poorly if it weren't for any one of those 5 things above and maybe others I've never identified. Things were just right for us and for the church. So is there a better way to teach navigating these water instead of putting the fear of God in our future pastors? Would we risk important lessons and information if the message was more "maybe" or "if all things are proper and appropriate"? I don't know. We might, and I get that that is why it's taught the way it is. I just don't know if it's helpful to deny that every case is unique and give some advice on how to date well instead of leaving our ministers scared of dating at all.

When I moved to my new presbytery I was required to take a boundaries class. It took me a while to get signed up and find a convenient time, so I finally did it after I had been here about 2 1/2 years. It left me FURIOUS. I spend 6 hours being told there was no way a relationship between pastor and parishioner could EVER work out. Even if you THINK it's going well when you are 85 and retired and trying to live happily ever after you will find that your spouse resents you for ruining his or her chance to ever be a "real" church member or a "normal" spouse. There were two of us in the class that had married parishioners, and we were less than satisfied with the training, to put it mildly. I was furious. I left my name, contact information, and a clear comment about this on the evaluation form, but surprise, surprise, I didn't hear anything about it afterward.

I think it was unnecessary, unfair, and out of line. There are important boundaries for developing relationships (both romantic and platonic), but there are also ways to work within boundaries in ways that don't deny the humanity of a pastor. I think it might be an important discussion for our denominations, seminaries, and congregations to have to spend some time exploring how those relationships can be explored in healthy ways.

Yesterday

2011-08-17T09:08:00.001-05:00

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

To write or not to write. That is the question?

2011-08-15T13:12:00.003-05:00

I was afraid this would happen. Yesterday I preached my first sermon without a manuscript. I got through it a little quicker than I thought I would, but it wasn't horrible. I had a timer up on the podium with me to keep track. I don't know what I thought I would do if I got to the end too quickly, but whatever. It helped.

I didn't go completely note-less like I did in the class I took in Synod School. I would like to, but for some reason I was a little nervous (weird since I really never get nervous about things). I took an outline with me because I just couldn't figure out the structure of one part of it until very close to the last minute. I didn't trust myself to remember the order around that part. No big deal. It meant I couldn't wander, but I wasn't really feeling up to wandering either.

So, here's the problem (one I anticipated, but didn't have a plan for addressing yet): After worship someone asked me for a copy of my sermon. I ordinarily give them whenever asked and post them to my blog and the church blog (except when I get behind like I did this summer). Of course the first time I go without a manuscript is the week that someone actually asks, though. I don't think they are related. I think it's because I worked with a difficult text in, honestly, a good way. So now what? I do NOT want to get in a habit of writing my sermon after the fact just to have something to give people.

I'm going to offer this woman an audio recording. We are recording sermons digitally for video upload, so eventually that might be what we put on the blog. Maybe that will work for some people, too. I also worry about what I will do 3 years from now when I want to remember what I preached. I think I still need to put some sort of notes, maybe my basic outline and focus in a little shortened devotional length format, on my blog so I have that for the next time around.

Even Longer

2011-08-08T11:32:00.002-05:00

Wow! And I thought I took a break last time! I haven't posted a post in ages, not even a sermon. I guess I have some work to do to get caught up. I hate playing catch up, and in recent months I've been letting myself off the hook and letting go of that irrational need to be "caught up" in things that don't matter so much. However, having all my sermons in one place for future reference is important and helpful to me, so even if I can't reclaim lost bloggables in other ways, I will get the sermons posted. The loss of my original iPad was my wake-up call there. Must get those off the device an onto the web (like it's much safer?).

That said, they may be some of my last sermons to post. No I'm not leaving the preaching ministry, but I might not be WRITING my sermons much longer. I took a wonderful class at Synod School taught by the Rev. Burns Stanfield called "Preaching Without Notes." I just might be hooked. I liked the idea and believed the class would help me even if I didn't change my style forever, but I did go into it a little skeptical. I love my words. I love the way I choose them. I love where I place them. I love how I balance them. Even if they are not the best words, I love them. It sounded very difficult to me to give up their careful positioning and let them flow more freely from my mouth. I got that "without notes" doesn't mean "without preparation." "But still..." I kept saying.

Until I tried it. As a part of the class we each prepared at 6 minutes sermon to preach without notes. I didn't have a lot of resources and definitely not a lot of time to work on it, but still I did it. And, well, I loved it. The preparation wasn't MUCH different. I mean, it was, but it wasn't. I tried to just put down an outline first. Of course, as I was jotting that down I found some words that I loved and would go off on a tangent writing them down. Then I'd have to rein myself back in to stay on task.

When I got to the end of the outline the first time it was several notebook pages long (sort of scribbled around on the page) because of the diversions I took, and I wanted it all on one page to look at and "practice." So I tried again. Surprise, surprise. The same thing happened again in new places. Some words I loved would come to me, so I'd write them, then I'd get back on track and try to finish. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Eventually, after about 3 tries at the outline I finally wrote a 4th that truly was just the outline, but when I looked back through my notes I discovered that I had written out much of the sermon with words I loved - - just not all consecutively. I found when I spoke my sermon outloud the first time it was actually quite easy. I had been through the outline 4 times already and with some detail in just about every part. It flowed well, I had committed to my memory (I don't want to say memorized) some of those words that I loved without even trying and they felt natural that way. The whole process on this short sermon wasn't really longer or shorter than writing a manuscript, except maybe that I didn't have the distraction of the computer since I was doing it all by hand. Very very interesting.

The day of delivery things went a little wonky. Pearl had had a fever through the night so she couldn't go to the daycare at Synod School. I didn't want to mess up the class schedule so I brought her to class with me. I was going to try to get someone to hold her while I preached, but the poor girl was a little clingy. I delivered my sermon with her on my hip. You gotta do what you gotta do. That said, I loved it. I really did.

I think I'm going to try it right away my first Sunday back from Synod School and the week's vacation that followed. I'm afraid if I don't start again I'll let it slip and never get back into the swing of it. Of course this week is a notoriously difficult text from Matthew - - the Canaanite woman who begs from scraps from the table. I've never preached it before, and I'm a little nervous about that part in particular. I already feel a little tug wanting a manuscript so I don't say something "wrong." That's my fear if I have one, that I'll get off track and spew out something completely heretical!

The other night on vacation, though, I was having horrible insomnia, and part of that insomnia was unrequested sermon inspiration! I got out of bed, grabbed the iPad, and bought a whiteboard app to get my brainstorm down on "paper." I need to ask Rev. Nancy Fitz what Mind Mapping app she uses. The ones I saw were fairly expensive which doesn't scare me away, but I want a recommendation before I spend that kind of money. I think one would help. Anyway, I have those thoughts down. I'll spend more time with them tomorrow, I think. I've got a vow renewal service to finish planning for Saturday and two fairly sick members to attend to now that I'm back at work.

Synod School was FANTASTIC! Vacation was a blessing! I think I'm ready to blog again and will probably use the NaBloPoMo daily questions to help. The monthly thing was less structured than I like, but a good discipline. Another blogger, Tweeter, FB-er, Presbyterian I follow, Abbie Watters has also been posting some really fun answers to questions from The Legacy Project. I might try some of those, too. Fun.

So, I called this post "Even Longer" in reference to what I called my last post, but now I see it has two meanings. Off I go. I need some lunch, and I just saw a new restaurant in town. Must go check it out!

Long time no write

2011-07-09T22:01:00.004-05:00

So, apparently May took it out of me. :) I haven't neglected my blog for this long in quite a while. I think the summer is to blame. I have had extremely limited time to get my work done since school got out. LadyPrincess has been accompanying me to work for at least part of every day since the summer vacation got started. I have done a lot of driving around here and there to get her to and from summer school, a book club at the library so that her days aren't ALL about sitting around my work, and swimming lessons that have GREATLY paid off. It means that every available "work" moment goes to visibly productive work, which means no blogging while sitting at my desk, and quite a bit of work from the home computer at night. This pace of the summer comes to an end this week, though, so maybe things around here will pick back up. And maybe not. I also head out of town for a couple of trips at the end of the month, so who knows what will happen to the blog in that time. My iPad was stolen a week ago, so mobile blogging will be decreased for sure. Saving up to replace it with my reimbursement checks from work. I'm not too far away from having an iPad 2, but it won't be right away for sure.

Saturday evening at 10:06 pm is not a usual time for a "check in" post, and unfortunately I'm not doing it because my sermon is done. My little Pearl is having a HECK of a time falling asleep tonight. It's either her sunburned arms, MAYBE teeth (but I don't think so), or the two hour nap she took just before dinner. Or maybe all three. All I know is that I just can't settle into writing until all the kiddos are down for the night. I've experienced this before when one or two (or even three) are still up a little late, but this is ridiculous at this hour.

Phil just poked his head in and let me know he was finally able to lay her down without her screaming so maybe this is it. The other thing I can't do until all the kids are sleeping is eat my dessert, so that's first on my agenda. Maybe I'll find something with a little chocolate to boost my energy level and get me started. A little less than two hours to write until bedtime. I think I'll get something done!

Woud you like some cheese...

2011-06-13T12:55:00.003-05:00

...with my whine?

I'm fairly certain I write this same whine every single year. Triiiiiiii-nity Suuuuuuuunday? Really? Again? Blech. I just can't stand it. I have YET to hear a sermon that tries to directly address what the Trinity is or why we should believe in it by any preacher that I like. Frankly, I just don't think that's the point of preaching. I have tried to do the same, and it has never turned out well, so I have finally learned not to mess with it. Or at least not to mess with that traditional use of Trinity Sunday. I think we'll still sing "Holy, Holy, Holy," particularly since I hardly ever pick it any other time of year, but I'm not going to try to force my sermon into a Trinity explanation. The Trinity is not something to be explained. How do you explain God?

So, I'll stick with the lectionary Scriptures - - probably Matthew's gospel; I don't think I've ever preached the Great Commission. It obviously uses the Trinitarian formula, but I don't even think that's the most important part of the pericope. I'm pretty drawn to the people who followed even though they doubted. The people who got the same commission as those who believed. The commission itself seems more important to me for preaching than the formula in which all of these actions are to take place.

Trinity sermons just don't seem to work for me, so if there's any nod to the Trinity in here for me it's that the work of the church takes place in community just as God exists in community. Within a community there are all different kinds of faith even those who doubt, but we don't leave any behind. Their participation in the work and fellowship is just as important and are part of what makes us us. No one is more valuable than another.

(Hey wait? Did something in their just sound like Trinitarian theology?)

Stirring Up Trouble

2011-06-12T16:11:00.001-05:00

Acts 2:1-21

Last week I was talking to a colleague of mine who has stepped in to be the supply preacher for a congregation that is without a regular pastor this summer. Her first sermon there was a last week, which you may know, was Ascension Sunday, the day we remember Jesus ascension into heaven after his resurrection. My friend, Susan, learned as soon as she started at this church that they had scheduled Youth Sunday for this week, June 12, which is Pentecost. The youth, of course, were not forced to follow a specific calendar, so, as she said it, the church had “cancelled Pentecost.”

I wonder at what point in the day the apostles wanted to cancel Pentecost, because I think they probably did, at least at first. As soon as they were gathered all together in one house there came from heaven the sound of a rushing wind. It blew among them violently. This was no spirit, spirit of gentleness. This was a wind storm that came up out of nowhere, and came up right in the middle of the room where they were sitting. It filled the house where they were, and, I bet, it terrified them like the people we have seen in shaky home movies that were shot in the recent tornadoes. This wind was no calm breeze stirring the grasses on a beautiful day; this was the powerful Spirit of God who was stirring up trouble!

The violent wind and the divided tongues of fire that accompanied them were signs both wonderful and terrible at the same time. They were so dramatic that they brought to mind in those who experienced them to prophecy of Joel who spoke of what it would be like when the Lord would come with blood and fire and smoky mist. This was more than a simple puff of the wind and a tiny flickering light. This was enough to be compared to a day when the sun would turn to darkness and the moon to blood. This, this…was trouble.

The Spirit of God descended on the apostles of Jesus, those who were commissioned and sent out to speak for him and minister in his name. The Spirit of God came into their very room and dramatically equipped them for a very important ministry, a very specific ministry. The Spirit of God blew violently among them, knocking the old wind out of them and filling them with a new wind, a new breath, with new words in a new language so that they could go out of that place and speak to anyone and everyone about the grace and love of God in Jesus Christ their Lord. The Spirit of God joined with them that day, so that they could open their circle to include others.

And that’s why people thought they were drunk. The Spirit of God, she can stir up trouble. The reaction from the crowd that witnessed what was going on was mixed. There were Jews from nations all over the known world who could suddenly hear these Galileans speaking in their native tongues. Some were amazed at what they heard, but others were less than impressed. “They’re DRUNK!” they accuse, sneering and mocking the apostles.

They dismissed what they heard, apparently confusing it with babble, nonsense, the slurred, indistinguishable speech of those who have indulged themselves beyond their limit. They disregarded the apostles’ words and uninhibited behavior as those of people who had no control over what they were saying or what they were doing. If they weren’t wishing they had cancelled Pentecost before, I bet they were wishing it now. Moses got the gift of laws on stone tablets on the day they gathered to remember, but the apostles got the gift of trouble.

The gift of the Holy Spirit, the sign of God’s presence in the world that moves God’s people to action and to ministry, apparently, brings trouble. Those who are “blessed” in receiving the Holy Spirit are blessed with this holy trouble. It’s not an easy gift. It’s not a gift you get, you smile at, and you stick on your shelf to look at every once in a while. It’s a gift that is counter-cultural. It’s a gift that demands action. It’s a gift that causes you, forces you, drives you to do something that looks irrational, sloppy, and completely, unabashedly uninhibited. It makes you include others.

Before the Holy Spirit blew through the apostles on the Pentecost after Jesus’ resurrection his followers and his apostles were a relatively homogenous bunch. Sure some were fisherman and at least one was a tax collector. Among the wider circle, those whose names we don’t necessarily know, there were men and women, but for the most part they were the same. They were all from Galilee. They were all Jewish. They all spoke Aramaic. They had the same or at least similar experiences and expectations. They ate their food with the same spices. They played the same games. They wore the same fashions. They valued the same things. They worshiped God the same way. Birds of a feather, they flocked together.

We can’t help it, right? It’s just the way it happens. I like this one kind of music so I naturally gravitate towards others who do, too. I enjoy these kinds of sports so I tend to find others who do, too. I speak this way, value these things, believe those, worship like this, therefore I naturally want to get together with people just like me. It’s not on purpose; it’s just the way it happens. It’s not because I think other ways are wrong; it’s just that those ways don’t appeal to me. They just don’t make me comfortable. I just don’t feel myself, at home, if we’re not doing things the way I’m used to doing them.

But from what I can tell, from the very beginning the Spirit had precious little to do with making the people of God feel comfortable. The Spirit of God led the Israelites around a DESERT. Not so comfortable. The Spirit of God went with people who were exile. Not so comfortable. The Spirit of God brought a baby to an unwed teenage mother. DEFINITELY not comfortable. The Spirit of God has a lot more to do with stretching our understanding of what it means to be the people of God, with leading the people of God into difficult situations, with expanding the circles of our community beyond those who look just like us and speak our same language than making us feel comfortable. The Spirit of God sure can stir up trouble.

For the apostles gathered in a house on Pentecost that meant they spoke new languages to include those who weren’t among their numbers. For us may mean something different. Look around. No really. Look around. Who is missing among our community? Who do we block from being a part of God’s community in this way, even unintentionally? Who can’t hear the good news because we only speak it in the language WE know? Who is left out because we set up spoken or unspoken expectations that bar them from speaking their own language? Who doesn’t even drive, bike, walk , crawl, run, or wheel up to our front doors on Sunday morning because they see our hesitancy or fear in including them? Who do we hesitate to go out and invite in because we fear that our ways will be changed if we let them in?

I see in this church an impulse toward shaking some of these hesitancies. I see the Holy Spirit little by little being allowed to blow through and among us. We may not yet be at gale force winds or anything, but our windows are opening, the breeze is coming through. Our mission with the Bridge for Youth with Disabilities is moving from the fundraising stage to the action stage. Things are getting visible. Our mission can be seen as the land has been leveled, the path has been laid, the garden boxes have been built. Soon our children will be over their working with our Bridge friends to dig in the dirt, work side-by-side and get plants in the ground, speaking the language of growth and cooperation and learning and nurture.

We are also changing the way we work together even within the church, so that we can include as many as possible in our mission and fellowship. It may be a bumpy road at times, but we are opening up opportunities for new people to serve however they are able in our outreach and our fellowship activities. We are learning a new language, a new way to express God’s grace, and new way to include all who are called as disciples and apostles in the name of Christ.

But at the same time, we still have work to do. The neighbors haven’t yet wondered what has gotten into us. People aren’t peering into our windows disbelieving what they’re seeing, hearing a message of love and welcome so dramatic that they think we’re out of minds. There are still times that we cringe when kids are playing on the grass we care for so meticulously. We wonder if the paint that got on the sidewalk will clean up. There are times we get frustrated about doing things a new way. We hesitate speak privately in our friendships and our relationships about God’s grace in Jesus, and don’t even think about doing it publically in our community. We miss opportunities to welcome those who are shunned in society and especially by the Christian community because we are scared to speak a new language and be judged by people watching us.

But this is what Pentecost is about - - letting the Holy Spirit so dramatically cover us, so dangerously fill this room and our lives that we can’t HELP but let people, any people, ALL people, know about God’s love. Pentecost is about reaching out with the languages of the world around us - - the language of children playing on the grass, the language of food for families that are hungry, the language of volunteerism for people who want to serve, the language of accessibility for those who are differently-abled, the language of exuberance for those who interest and excitement can’t be contained. Pentecost is about speaking the message of God’s grace and inclusion in languages that may be new to us to people who may be different from us, which may just be uncomfortable for us. It may even earn us a raised eyebrow from the neighbors who watch us. Are they drunk? Are they serious? Do they really mean what they are doing?

But the Spirit of God, if the Spirit does ANYTHING, the Spirit of God stirs up trouble. The Spirit of God raises more than eyebrows. The Spirit of God raises up missionaries, evangelists, and prophets; servants, disciples, and apostles from among the people of God, even from among us to speak recklessly of God’s power, to dream without inhibitions dreams of God’s justice, to see without blinders visions of God’s welcome. The Spirit of God stirs up trouble, and by the grace of God we should find ourselves right in the middle of it.

Come, Holy Spirit, come!

Being nudged along

2011-06-08T15:01:00.003-05:00

I need to go back and listen to the Sermon Brainwave podcast because now, for the life of me, I can't remember what finally struck me with my sermon direction for Sunday. I had been listening to it when I was using the weight machines at the Y, and then had an idea in the shower when I got back to the locker room. Next picture me (or don't if you prefer) running wrapped in a towel to an open bench to try to type what was in my brain before I lost it. Thank God for the iPad, right?

I think the idea came as I was thinking about my reluctance to preach about sin, to call things sin. I don't think that's categorically good or bad, but I know my preaching is at least "non-traditional" in comparison to other generations of preaching in that I don't make sin and forgiveness or redemption my focal point all the time, or really even much of the time. A personal faith isn't really my focal point much. I preach to the church more than I preach to individual Christians, but really there is plenty of church sin we could talk about, too.

From there I think I wondered, where is sin in the story of Pentecost? How does the church sin against the God of Pentecost today? Turns out, there just might be a sermon in those questions.

The sin of the church is that we think we get to decide who is in and who is out. We think that we have the responsibility of deciding who gets the invitation, but the reality, the good news, of Pentecost is that the Spirit decides, the Spirit blows wherever it will, speaking whatever language it wants, calling whoever it wants in, whoever she can.

Our job isn't to decide who gets the invitation, but to get in line with the Spirit of God who comes to every person, each in their own way, each in their own language. Our job is to get rid of the one-size-fits-all mentality of doing church and let the Spirit speak through any language necessary to draw people into God's grace and mission.

We do this well sometimes - - I need to think of some. (hee hee)

But there are also areas where we have room for improvement, for confessing our close-mindedness in the past and and moving forward WITH the Spirit of God instead of against it, doubting it's validity and dismissing it as intoxicated babbling. Based on some conversations last week, it seems we might need to hear about being welcoming of kids AS KIDS in this department. While we're beginning the search for a new director of youth and family ministries we need to do some Spirit-filled work on ourselves.

Yeah, I think there's something in here for us and the key that may have come from the Sermon Brainwave was the challenge to name places where the church is a part of the Spirit's moving. I'm also feeling a nudge to point out some places where maybe we need to free ourselves to follow a bit better.

I think it'll preach.

Are we there yet?

2011-06-05T16:42:00.003-05:00

Acts 1:1-11

So, here in Hudson, the schools are getting out this week. I guess that means summer is just about officially here. Thankfully, the weather is cooperating so far. Summer means a lot of things to a lot of people, and to many of us, those with kids and without, it means we’re going to log some miles in our cars. The season of road trips is upon us.

In our family road trips tend to be to one of two place - - back to Nebraska to visit Phil’s family on the farm or down to Iowa for Synod School. The summer trip is usually to Synod School.

Synod School, if you haven’t heard one of my raves about it, is an intergenerational conference put on by the Synod of Lakes and Prairies, our upper Midwest region of the Presbyterian Church (USA). Each year a FANTASTIC speaker is brought in from around the country to lead morning keynote addresses, kids learn and have fun in Vacation Bible School-like classes, and adults can take classes ranging from cake decorating to website design to God in the movies to African drumming to home electrical repair to introduction to the New Testament. Truly if you can think of it, it has probably been taught Synod School, and if it hasn’t, feel free to teach it next year.
Commercial ended.

Anyway, Synod School is often our summer road trip, and I love Synod School. (Could you tell?) I start talking about our trip to Synod School as soon as June rolls in even though it doesn’t happen until the last week of July. (There’s still time to register, if you’re interested.) I get excited about my classes. We usually get a letter from the kids’ teachers. We’re in touch with our roommates for the week and deciding who is going to sleep where with whom. The excitement builds rather dramatically.

When the day of the trip finally comes, we pack up the car early in the morning so that we can change our clothes in the church restrooms and hit the road pretty soon after worship. Dinner is served at 5:00 p.m. on campus in Storm Lake, Iowa, and we like to have a little time to get settled in our room and find our friends. When worship is over and we have said our goodbyes here, eating a little bit more of the fellowship treats than usual so we don’t have to stop for lunch too soon, the kids and I (and Phil if he gets to come) load up in the car and hit road.

I love pulling onto the interstate and knowing we are on our way until, of course, that inevitable question comes. Can you ask it with me? “Are we there yet?”

“Are we there yet?” the disciples asked their risen Lord. “Are we there YET?” OK, so they really asked, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” but it means the same thing. They had been hanging on for a long time. They had been called and they followed. They learned and they listened. They were sent out and the taught. They healed and were rebuked. They were mocked and shunned. They had been fed and walked a lot. They had walked a whole heck of a lot, following this Jesus, the Messiah. They had lived through all sorts of preparations and it seemed the time had finally come. “NOW are you going to do it, Jesus? Now will you restore the kingdom?”

The disciples were like my kids in the car. For more than just the three years with Jesus, for all of their conscious lives really, they have been waiting for the Messiah to come and do this one thing - - restore the kingdom to Israel. They had been waiting for the Messiah who would come and set the kingdom of Israel back on top in the eyes of her people, in the eyes of the world. They had been waiting like their parents and grandparents and generations even before had been waiting for the kingdom David sang about in the Psalms, the kingdom of prosperity and power and good fortune, the political kingdom that was a sure sign of God’s favor and presence on earth

They had been with him since he called them to follow, the ones who had dropped their nets, left the tax collectors’ office, walked away from family and friends. They had endured the roller coaster of emotions as they celebrated healings, grumbled about crowds, worried about his arrest, agonized over his crucifixion, and celebrated his resurrection. They had stayed in Jerusalem waiting for the promise of their heavenly parent, thinking, “Surely it’s almost time now.” So when they had come together, of course, they asked him, “Jesus, are we there yet?”

Now, when my kids ask I want to shout, “Yes! Yes! We’re there. We have been waiting for months and months. We have made all our plans. We have washed and packed and loaded. We have worshiped and fellowshipped and changed our clothes. We have used the bathroom one last time and buckled into the carseats. Yes! We’re there. We’re on vacation!”

But apparently that’s not what they mean. So, somehow we are at the same time “there yet” and “not yet there.” We have gotten to the time when the vacation has started. We have come to the day we have all be waiting for, but it is not yet completed. It is, as we like to say in theological language, already and not yet.

That’s Jesus’ final message as he ascends into heaven. “Yes! Yes! We’re there. We have been waiting for months, for years, for centuries, for millennia. We have made all our plans. We have taught and washed and healed. We have worshiped and fellowshipped and served. We have met one last time and the Holy Spirit is one her way. Yes! We’re there. The kingdom is on its way!”

But apparently that’s not what they meant either. He said it as they were listening and watching intently. And as he spoke, he left them. He left them staring up into a cloud asking with their gaze and their frozen feet, “Are we there yet?”

It took some angels to break their gaze and thaw their feet, asking them why they were just standing around. Jesus had given them work to do. With the same certainty that he had called “Come, follow me” he had also just commanded “You will be my witnesses.” He didn’t ask, “Please can you take some more time?” He didn’t suggest “You could be, if you wanted…” And actually this time he didn’t even invite, “Come, be my witnesses.”

Jesus just stated it as the truth. You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and you will be empowered, you will tell my story with your words and with your lives starting right here where you are in Jerusalem, when you move out into Judea, even when you go to the place of your enemies in Samaria, and as far as you can imagine throughout the world. You will be my witnesses.

It’s the “not yet” part of his answer. Jesus has come. The kingdom has been ushered in, but it’s not yet here. We can see; it’s not yet here, not because Israel isn’t at peace. Not because a political kingdom has borders that are threatened, although don’t be fooled that is exactly what is behind some Evangelical support for their political agenda in the Middle East. We can see that the kingdom of God is not yet here because there is still pain and sadness, war and rumors of war. There is still homelessness and hurting. There is still addiction and arguing. There is still hatred and bigotry, prejudice and hunger.

We’re not there yet. And we’re not going to get there any faster with our feet stuck in the sand and our eyes tilted up there wondering, “When is he going to get around to fixing all of this?” He told us not to worry about when because we have more important things to do. We have work to do. We must get to work being his witnesses, get to work unveiling his kingdom, get to work bringing the places of “not yet” in line with the vision of his kingdom that is already here.

Are we there yet? Yes, we are. We are here, and we have felt and known the love of God. We have seen what Jesus can do in our lives and in the world. We trust in his promise of forgiveness and wholeness and new life.

Are we there yet? Well, not quite, but as his witnesses we can help bring his kingdom one step closer. We must engage our minds, move our feet, open our mouths, and work with our hands and get to work witnessing. We must get to work feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, freeing the captives; remembering the forgotten, encouraging the disheartened, comforting those who mourn; praying for those who mourn, teaching the young, listening to the old. We must be Christ’s witnesses…We ARE Christ’s witnesses here and to the ends of the earth.

Why are we standing around looking up toward heaven? We’ve got somewhere to go!

Friday Five: Summer Reruns

2011-06-03T22:03:00.002-05:00

Songbird gave us this Friday Five over at Revgals:
It's that time of year when the only new things on television are music/dance competitions (the 21st century answer to variety shows?). Yes, it's the season of reruns.

This week the clock turned back to last fall and the Glee kids went back to school and still got "slushied," and Michael hired his nephew on The Office, which was not something even he would be likely to repeat.

In honor of this annual Time Warp, please share five things worth a repeat. These could be books, movies, CDs, recipes, vacations, or even TV shows.

1. Well, I'm playing as I am watching a NEW episode of Friday Night Lights, so although it's not a rerun I have to start with it. I rediscovered the show last summer when I was home on maternity leave. Watched the entire first four seasons when I was up nights nursing my Pearl. It does a spring/summer season for new shows apparently. Thrilled. I won't miss it and would watch it over and over.

2. Not so proud, but honest - - Angry Birds. Apparently it's worth the repeat for me because I play it too. damn. much.

3. Tina Fey's book, Bossypants. Thanks for the recommendation, Jules! Haven't finished it yet, but that partly because I keep rereading the stuff I've already read.

4. My good friend's blog Graceful Like a Chicken. We grew up together way down in FL and now live 45 miles from each other on different ends of the Twin Cities. She's not a RevGal, but could definitely be a Pal, and I'm fairly certain her pastor is grooming her for some sort of more formalized lay ministry. I'm not Methodist. I don't know the right words for that in her church. She'd be awesome and her blog is worth 500 reads.

5. And last, I'd give anything to feel again what I felt when I crossed the finish line at my first 5K race again. It was only 2 weeks ago and I'm doing my second tomorrow. I don't feel as ready for this one as I felt for that one because I didn't get out as much since that last one, but I think I'll finish. The feeling of doing it and running the whole thing last time was just awesome. I NEVER would have imagined I could do it, but I did. And I'm going to do it again. I might even do a 10K at the end of the summer. No. freaking. way.

Getting the stick out of the mud

2011-06-02T22:35:00.002-05:00

I'll admit it. I've been a stick stuck firmly in the mud of close-mindedness.

A few weeks ago (I think) on Twitter there was a long discussion about children in worship, offering other options for kids, what to do with pastors' kids without a non-leading parent present, etc, etc, etc. I chimed in early with my usual stance of "kids should be welcome in worship," but really without meaning parents are wrong for wanting something different. I didn't stay in the conversation long because I saw the limitations of 140 characters and didn't have the time to blog a longer answer. If I had had the time I still probably would have come down on the "side" of including kids in worship. I tend to say that the worship service should change to engage kids instead of kids leaving because the worship doesn't work for them. I think in the ideal world I still hope for that.

However (and this is a big however for me), in that conversation I started to hear the voice of parents in a new way. That may sound weird in some ways because I am a parent. But I'm also the pastor and have a husband who is not a pastor (different from many of the moms who were in the conversation) and is in worship every week (often times more than me because he'll even go on some of my vacation or continuing education Sundays off). I am not responsible for my kids when I am leading worship on Sunday. He's the parent on duty and (for the most part) the kids and he work things out themselves. He usually keeps 2 of 3 kids with him in worship on any given Sunday, when he's not the nursery volunteer that is. It is his "struggle," not mine.

I started to realize in that last go round of the discussion that I had about as much experience and credibility in the discussion as the older ladies whose opinion on the subject I discount because when they start talking about taking kids out of worship it sounds a whole lot like, "Those kids are too noisy, Can't they go somewhere else?" When I hear them suggesting other options (and in the past it was always folks far outside child-rearing years who made these suggestions) it sounds like they are kicking kids out, cutting them out of the circle, excluding them from the kingdom of God. Well, when I heard what I sounded like I started to hear that maybe I'm doing the same to parents without realizing it.

When the Twitter conversation was going on and when I took myself out of it (pretty early, I think) I ended my participation with that sure-fire seminary answer - - Context, context, context. There's no way to make a sweeping statement about the issue because each context is so unique. And thus began my sermon to the woman in the mirror.

Fast forward to yesterday (because I didn't think on any of this anymore until then). I got an e-mail from a mom expressing heartfelt and sincere stress over trying to keep her kids from being distractions in worship. It was so subtly different this time, though. She wasn't expressing stress over disturbing others (Yea! Because I think we have a pretty tolerant congregation and that's usually my stock answer). She was expressing stress over not being able to worship herself. Ah ha! Now that was something different. It was something I hadn't heard in my context before. It struck me.

The other thing that struck me was that she didn't just write to express her frustration, but had an idea to address it and volunteered to run with it. It was a good ministry "proposal" with a smart time limit on it as a testing phase. Not a ground-breaking idea, but a children's church option for the second half of the service with singing and lessons. But she was willing to help create it and get it going. She wasn't trying to turn it into an every week thing from now until forever. She wasn't asking me to do it. She was asking to be empowered to try to do ministry herself.

Hell to the yes. Next came my email to the Worship & Arts committee in which I had to eat some crow in front of a couple of ladies from another generation, if you know what I mean. I shared with them the hope and the idea. I added my own hopes (it took everything that I had to let go of them as "requirements" - - mostly kidding) to the proposal, things the mom agreed with tonight, too - -
1. Kids will be present for the whole service on communion Sundays.
2. The time will be used for something more "productive" than nursery/play time, but not duplicating Sunday School. It will let the kids participate in the elements of worship they are missing in a way that is more engaging or age appropriate for them. I want it to lead them back into the worship service when they are too old to come anymore. In addition to fun kid-friendly worship pieces they can also learn some of the traditional stuff, like the doxology, Lord's Prayer, etc. I don't want them to come back to the worship service in 2nd or 3rd grade and have missed out on these things we do regularly as a community.
3. The volunteers when/if we go beyond the summer will be recruited from the congregation BEYOND parents. This is not a ministry to parents if the parents have to take turns carrying it out. (This might be where I firmly place my next stick.)

Anyway, I'm pretty fired up that this mom is pretty fired up. In her most recent e-mail this evening she even said this is something she feels called to do right now. Love it. Love. it. LOVE it.

So, here I am, admitting that I have changed my stance. I guess I could also say I am living into my most recent cry of "It depends on the context." Right now, in my context this seems to be the direction the Spirit is leading. I'll be taking my stick and going home for now. Hopefully I don't find any mud anywhere on the way home.

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 31 - - I did it!

2011-05-31T15:14:00.003-05:00

I sure have been eating a lot of crow these days over this whole running bit. I have always been a staunch exercise hater - - particularly a hater of running. I've been more than a little proud about this. It's sort of been the fat-me schtick. "I don't exercise and I'm proud of it."

Well, then I started exercising and not just working out, but working out publicly, talking about it, writing about. For Pete's sake I made it the subject of a church newsletter and have had guest posts on an exercise blog. Geez, Louise. (Pete? Louise? Who are these people?) When I made some comment about it on Facebook a friend of mine who has ALWAYS been very active, from when we were young and on soccer and softball teams together (I was bad, very bad at these) and even now that we are moms who live strangely close to each other for two grown women who live 1,600 miles from their hometown. The kids and I went on a playdate to her house about a year ago. She gave me the choice of driving to nearby playground or walking "just up the road a little." Her "just" is a lot different than my "just." Dear God!

Anyway, she posted on my FB comment asking if I liked running now. My sister's comment was my favorite after that. "Let's not get carried away!" It was my first thought, too. But then I let it sink in a little while and the sneaking suspicion started to arise. Hey, I think I do like running now!

I'm having another similar experience today. It's sort of a difficult day at work for unbloggable reasons. It's been sort of a difficult few weeks. When I cleaned out my car before my parents visited for Pearl's birthday there were more empty DQ Blizzard cups rolling around than I cared to admit. I had been comforting myself with these treats every time I drove to or from a difficult meeting or just had to get out of the building to clear my head.

Well, we've reached a turning point today in all of these strange times. It has been by no means an easy day, maybe the hardest of them all so far. But you know what? I don't think I'll drive to Dairy Queen (or Culvers, because there were just as many empty Concrete Mixer cups on the floor of the car, too) this afternoon. I mean, I'd enjoy the treat and all, but I don't really feel that need. I do, however, want to hit the gym sometime this afternoon. It's not supposed to be a running day in my 10K training program, but I'm scheduled to do some cross training, a stationary bike ride is what I think I'll do.

Maybe I've turned another corner, one I didn't really imagine I needed to turn. Maybe I've turned a mental health corner, too, in all of this training. It certainly wasn't intentional, but I'll take it just the same. I want to do something healthy with my stress instead of eat my way through it.

Maybe it's time to go preheat the oven to bake some crow pie for dessert.

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 30

2011-05-31T00:17:00.003-05:00

Well, I've almost done it. Personally I'm not counting the two days Blogger was mucked up against me, just so you know. I'm pretty sure I won't try the same kind of challenge in June, but maybe just maybe participating in this has gotten me a little more engaged with my blog. It's funny. I tried to do daily blogging for Lent last year. I didn't last more than a week, if that long. I wonder what the difference was.

Maybe I felt awkward about taking that kind of introspective journey public (or public-ish anyway).

Maybe it was too hard to do ONE. MORE. THING. at 7, 8, and 9 months pregnant.

Maybe (and I think this one was it) it had something to do with putting my real name on my blog. For some reason that has seemed to me to be a real step forward for me in my commitment to doing SOMETHING on here. I left it anonymous at the start (and for like 3 years) because I wasn't sure what I would use it for and I thought it was easier to leave the toothpaste in the tube than to try to stuff it back in later. I think, though, I didn't use it for anything much because it was anonymous. It wasn't tied to me, so it was almost like I couldn't be me. I haven't gone crazy or anything since putting my name on it, but I feel more connected to it since then. I haven't had to keep my kids out of it, my context hidden. I think there's more potential for something here now.

We'll see.

(For the record, yes it is after midnight, and therefore May 31, but I'm still counting this as day 30/May 30 because I haven't gone to bed yet. Now is that time. Goodnight!)

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 29

2011-05-29T22:50:00.003-05:00

I'm not sure if I should have tried to work with the Memorial Day theme in worship after all. I did NOT go all nationalistic on us at all. That is not me, but I did use the idea of memorials as my jumping off point. I thought it was a good idea. I don't think it was a bad idea. Maybe, though, it was just...meh. We did have some good participation in the pipe cleaner memorial activity which was kind of fun. I had people think of a time when they were clearly aware of God's love and presence in their lives and then make a 1 pipe cleaner memorial of that time, something that could help them tell that story. With the folks who like that kind of interaction in worship, it went really well. I want to get us talking more about our personal experiences of faith. We need to talk to one another about these experiences if we can even dream about talking to other people about them. Maybe I'll work with this theme of "story telling" on and off throughout the summer to see where it goes.

I'm so behind at getting my sermons posted. This week makes 3 that AREN'T up yet here or on the church blog. It hasn't been intentional; I've just gotten busy. Maybe tomorrow I'll get caught up if the kiddos take naps. I think I'll also include the funeral sermon from Saturday since I got a LOT of good feedback about that one. One out of two in a weekend isn't bad!

NaBloPoMo: No Maybe About It, Day 28

2011-05-28T23:14:00.003-05:00

I had a funeral today. The death was actually two weeks ago, but since the deceased was being cremated anyway and I had a scheduled vacation last week, the family decided to wait until today to have the memorial service. It gave their family time to come without a big rush, too. I never really knew the woman who died in the fullest sense. She lived with Alzheimer's disease the entire time I've been here. She and her husband have been married for almost 67 years and have known each other for 72. A. maz. ing.

The service itself wasn't too out of the ordinary. I read from Romans 8 with the promise that NOTHING separates us from the love of God - - not even Alzheimer's I wanted to add. I also read Psalm 139:1-12. This woman, like God as the psalmist describes, was a detail woman. Everything in its place. Everything done very carefully. Everything organized out of love and attention and compassion. I heard in the psalm on this occasion about God who pays attention to every detail. God who knows all about us, where we're going, where we're coming from, what we're going to say. God knows when we have ascended to the pinnacle of joy and when we have been buried in the depths of despair. God pays attention to detail. I also heard that even the darkness of memory loss isn't too dark for God.

Anyway, if I may say so myself, I brought all I had to this service, and preached the word and shared the comfort of faith. Besides what I brought there was beautiful music, violin, tenor, organ, piano. It was a fitting memorial and just felt right.

But even with all we did, we weren't the best part. I was going to say "maybe we weren't the best part" to fit the NaBloPoMo theme, but frankly I know we weren't the best part. The best part came after the benediction. The widower had it all planned out last week before I even went on vacation. Parked just outside the church building, right outside the front door was his Cadillac Escalade golf cart. I kid you not. When the service was over he had me announce his intentions and ask everyone to line the church sidewalks. He put the box of his wife's remains in the passenger seat, flipped the switch on the tape player (it started with "America, the Beautiful"), buckled his seat belt, and pulled out into the parking lot.

He told me it would be just one spin around the parking lot, taking his wife for one last ride. He had bought this "golf cart" last spring to drive her around town, by the home she lived in as a little girl, by the school she attended, the park where she used to eat picnic lunches. It was the world of the 1930s, the world she tended to inhabit in her own mind. The weather hadn't been good enough this spring yet to drive her around, so he said at her memorial he would take her for one last ride.

I'll admit it seemed a little hokey to me at first, and I wasn't the only one sort of grinning about his one cart parade. I don't think we were being disrespectful; we were all supporting him in what he wanted to do. it just...well... it's hard to describe. But anyway, as he completed his lap around the parking lot the congregation applauded as he drove back up the drop off circle, expecting, as he told me, that he would park and we'd go in to eat lunch. But he didn't stop. He mouthed to his daughter, "One more time," and stepped on the gas. We all laughed and cheered a little, started to clap along with his tapping toe to the big band music that started up when the patriotic tunes had ended.

The scene repeated itself about 4 or 5 more times. Every time we thought he'd pull in, he say again with a tip of his head and a few tears in his eye, "One more time." The funeral director, in awe, said, "Who knows what's going on in his head." I felt, though, that maybe I knew. When this ride was finally over, their ride would be over. It was both sweet and heartbreaking at the same time. Or maybe it was heart breaking because it was sweet. I just ached for this man who so obviously loved his wife, who had lost her in bits and pieces over the last 7 years or so, and who finally had to end their ride today. When we all eventually gathered inside the funeral director said to me, "I only hope I'm half the husband he has been."

I think he can be. I think I can be half the wife. I think we were shown the way to do it today as this widower drove in his golf cart. "One more time." Don't be in a rush. Don't move to quickly on to the next thing. Savor the perfect moments and when they're good, when they're really good go ahead and take one more time.

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 27

2011-05-27T22:45:00.002-05:00

Maybe I was meant for life on a commune. Do those still exist? Or maybe I need to dig out my project from the church history class in seminary when we all had to invent our own church order. I don't remember much about mine, and actually I don't remember really being all that interested in the project itself at the time. But I do remember mine was for families living somewhat communally. Sometimes it seems like a great idea.

The neighbors came over tonight to share our ROCKIN' pork roast from the church Drive Through BBQ fundraiser. We had 8 kids and 4 adults around (they had an extra over) and just ate wherever we fit. The kids ran around and played and enjoyed themselves. We chatted, shared a bottle of wine, and laughed a lot. It was a awesome. I love casual nights with easy friends. I love sharing our families!

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 26

2011-05-26T22:56:00.002-05:00

Maybe I'm not meant to be a daily blogger. I'm glad to have taken up the challenge of a month of daily post, but I'm glad I've only taken it for a month. Or at least I'm glad I've only taken this particular challenge for a month. The theme of "maybe" is a little too vague for me. I feel like I've written the same thing almost 25 times, or at least about 20. There have been a few original topics. :)

So, I'll finish this challenge out. I'm only a few days away from success (other than the 2 days when Blogger was acting up). But when June comes I think I'll try to change it up a little. I'll still aim for daily posts for another month, I think, but I won't feel like I'm tied to a particular theme (especially one like "maybe" - geesh!). I'll try to pick a topic sometime during the day and either blog it right away or save it until later. Or if nothing jumps out at me I'll use the daily writing prompt from the National Blog Posting Month website. That will feel a little more natural.

I think my other goal will be to comment on at least one other person's blog every day. I LOVE comments. Who doesn't? I read a lot of blogs without commenting, but figure other people would probably appreciate a few comments, too. I know I'm coming late to the blogging world and it seems like some of it is fizzling out a little bit, but I'm still willing to give it a try. We'll see!

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 25

2011-05-25T21:16:00.003-05:00

Maybe some of us should have spent a little less time mocking and rolling our eyes and a little more time listening to the message behind the media blitz. I watched the first half of the last Oprah show this afternoon. Although I'm about to speak of it nicely, I did find it a little annoying and tough to watch in one setting. It seems that as a long as I have been in the pulpit it has been en vogue for preachers to complain about the way our hearers turn to Oprah for advice and life guidance instead of Scripture (or more honestly, instead of us). I've done it a time or two myself.

However, today as I listened to what Oprah had to say on her last episode, sort of her "last lecture" in the style of one of her famous guest, Randy Pausch, I began to think maybe we preachers have been a bit too quick to judge. Actually, I began to think we preachers should pay a bit more attention to Oprah ourselves.

Whether we like her or not (for any number of reasonable or unreasonable excuses), Oprah knows our congregants. In her second or third segment today she lectured the church on who are people are. She told us the needs we are called to address with the Word of God. She articulated the longings of the people in our pews, the longings of the children of God in this and every generation - - the desire to belong, be needed, be worthy, be loved.

It wasn't brand new stuff. Theologians and sociologists have been saying some of the same stuff for a long while. But it's still worth it to listen to it all again. It's worth it to listen to it from Oprah because whether you like her or not or are merely indifferent, she has the ears of a WHOLE LOT of the people in our pews. Her language is already out there and her words are ringing in people's ears. Much of what she had to say in that arena was not just compatible with Christian theology and preaching it was laying the groundwork for us to walk right in with the gospel message.

We are loved by God. We are worthy in God's eyes, simply because we are created by God. We belong to God. And the challenge message to the church is to embody the love and the acceptance and the uplifting nature of God in the world, so that others can experience and believe what is true. Oprah has primed the pump for probably the better part of 25 years. We don't need to work against her; she has set us up to fill in the rest of the message with the good news.

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 24

2011-05-24T22:39:00.003-05:00

Ah....vacation couldn't just end quietly. It's 10:42 pm, and I just put Pearl to bed. There was also the late evening phone call that pulled me out of my TV induced stupor. Oy vey.

Oh well. It's been a good vacation just being here at home. I really haven't had to deal with anything which is awesome. I have a lot I'm going back to, including a funeral at the end of the week, but I have been able to really be away from it all even without leaving town, this whole week. That's been a blessing. I'm so glad I can finally do that. Maybe I should have just done it earlier in my time at this church, but it didn't feel like I could. I'm not sure I trusted the folks who stayed behind to work, and I certainly didn't trust myself enough walk away and not be involved in what was behind. I didn't trust the work I had done. I didn't trust my own dispensable nature if that makes sense. I didn't trust the Holy Spirit to work with or without me.

But this vacation I was able to be away. Maybe they've changed. Maybe She's changed. Maybe I've changed. Maybe it's a little bit of all of us, but I have been away without even leaving town, and it has been a blessing. Now it's time to go back.

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 23

2011-05-23T22:35:00.002-05:00

So the world didn't end this weekend. Not that I thought it would. Not that anyone with with any credibility thought it would. Since I was on vacation I missed the opportunity to address it at all in worship. Maybe that was a good thing. I may have made snarky comments which probably wouldn't have been appropriate. I'm reading all these stories about people who really did believe it enough to sell everything they had to try to convince others. How horrendous. Someone on Twitter posted something to the effect of - - "I get why they want it to be true. I want to go to bed tonight thinking tomorrow will be drastically different." Maybe that's what was so appealing about the whole idea. Maybe people just want to believe that SOMEthing will change, that God will intervene, that what they are experiencing is temporary, that there's a way out. Maybe that's not something to scoff at.

I think this whole media storm could have been an opportunity to talk about the end times, the kingdom of God, the (false idea of the) rapture. Maybe it still is? I'm not excited about the lectionary options for this coming Sunday, so I'm thinking about picking up these topics. I would go the direction of not knowing the day or the time, so until then sinking ourselves into the task of embodying God's love and radical inclusion here and now. I'll keep thinking on it for a little. Tomorrow is my last day of vacation so I don't want to get back to work too soon!

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 22

2011-05-22T22:01:00.002-05:00

Maybe my vacation is coming to an end. Not the post I hoped to make. For the love of Pete. It was great having my parents in town, but I'm afraid Mom left her cold behind - - in all 3 kids. For real. No one has a fever which is why I'm pretty sure it's just a cold, but they are down for the count. W seems to be the worst. He's really dragging and complaining about aching. K isn't much better. M seems to have it the least which is the best part. It's just so hard to keep a baby comfortable. It's pretty selfish, I know, but I really want them to be OK for school in the morning so I can have my last two days of vacation! I just want to get out a little bit tomorrow on my own. Just a a little bit!

(Weak post, I know, but they can't all be home runs!)

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 21

2011-05-21T21:22:00.002-05:00

Maybe I should have pushed harder. I ran my first 5K race today, and I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I LOVED it. I really did. I did the whole thing in 35 minutes which was pretty good. I didn't know how far I was at any giving point along the course so I was afraid to push myself too hard part way through in case I still had a long way to go. I finished feeling really good, not at all sore or achy like I am on my training days much of the time. I could have gone faster. Maybe.

I have sort of a funny history with God. it seems that every time I say I'll NEVER do something, I end up doing it. I'll never go to seminary. I'll never be a parish pastor. I'll never meet a man willing to meet a pastor (well, that one was a little different). I'll never enjoy exercise. And even more I'll NEVER run. Now I have and not only that I like it. After dinner tonight I even felt like I wanted to go out again. God has a funny sense of humor. I noticed this about some of the "big" things, the spiritual things, the call things a few years ago. It never occurred to me that it would work with something like running and exercising, too. But it did. The thing I swore I'd never do and definitely never like has become pretty important and life-giving to me.

Please don't tell me this means I'll have to move to Florida again sometime. Really. I'll NEVER do that!

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 20

2011-05-20T21:24:00.004-05:00

My baby turned one today. Sweet baby girl. Being so tiny makes it seem like time is going slower, but I can't really deny it. And I can't stop it.

I don't want to. I mean, I can't wait to see who she turns into, what she will be like. K decided M needed a baby "a soft baby, Mommy, not a hard one that will hurt her when it hits her in the head." M has been hugging that baby and carrying it around all night. It is so sweet. She'll be a beautiful, caring girl.

But at the same time, maybe I do want to freeze time. Maybe I do want to cuddle her for years more not just months. Maybe I do want to nurse her morning and night and when she bonks and when she wakes up at little bit grumpy. Maybe I do want her to stay a baby a little bit longer because she's my last baby and I'm not quite ready to say goodbye to that chapter yet.

Happy Birthday, Pearl! I sure do love you!

Running Prayers

2011-05-19T21:59:00.005-05:00

I had a bad day Tuesday. I've had a few of those lately, and I joked recently that if I have too many more I'm going to gain a ton of weight with my emergency drives through Culvers and Dairy Queen. But on Tuesday I had a bad day and for the first time ever I didn't want a Blizzard or Concrete Mixer (or at least that's not ALL I wanted); I wanted to go for a run. All day long I was itching to get out of the office and just run. Run off my energy. Run off my anxiety. Run off my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

My gym bag with my running stuff was at the office because I planned to go for a run at the end of the day, so when I finally got everything checked off my list I mapped out a 5K run on MapMyRun.com, did a quick change in the church bathroom, and hit the road. I was nervous that I wouldn't be able to stick it out because I didn't have my iPod. I had never run without music, my own or a Couch to 5K podcast (mostly I use the free ones from NHS Choices when I'm running outside). I even considered skipping the run all together, the lack of music being my excuse. I didn't, though. My first run was a few days away, and I needed to know that I could do it, and I REALLY needed to run.

I did my warm up walk around the parking lot and then turned out onto the sidewalk with a steady pace. It didn't feel too fast or too slow. It was just right and rhythmic, which I had never noticed before. When I'm listening to music on an outside run or a podcast or TV show on the dreadmill it's all I can hear. When there was nothing else in my ears suddenly I could hear myself. I could hear my feet hitting the pavement. I could hear my heart thumping in my chest. I could hear my breath, rhythmically flowing in and out of my lungs, two beats in and two beats out.

I remembered as I noticed this someone else's post on RunRevRun in which he said the Jesus prayer works well as a breath prayer while running. I'll be honest that my knowledge of spiritual practices is pretty weak, so I don't actually know the Jesus prayer, but the idea stuck with me. On a rough patch of the run, heading up a hill I chanted, prayed in my head, "I - Can - Do - It" with each of the four beats of my breath. As the hill crested it changed to, "Thank - You - Je - Sus."

It wasn't a flippant prayer. It was simple, maybe even trite-sounding, but it was completely sincere. Thank you, Jesus, for getting me over that hill. Thank you, Jesus, for getting me out of my office, for getting me out of my head. Thank you, Jesus, for my body that moves, my lungs the breathe the breath of your life in and out, in and out.

I kept it up as I ran the 5K, my first real try on my last day of the 9 week program. The whole last mile was up hill. I ran the whole way for about 2 1/2 miles, but had to walk about a quarter mile toward the end. I wasn't happy about that, but I got over it. I used the time to calm myself, calm my breath, and get reinvigorated for the final push at the end. When I picked my feet up to get back to running at the end my chant prayer changed one last time. "I - Will - Do - It. I - Will - Do - It." And I did.

I think I've found that place where my movement is part of my prayer. I never understood it when people said that. I've never been "good" at still prayers, words flowing from my mouth or my mind toward God. I've tried, but 20-something years of conscious faith has never really felt fulfilled by my prayers. I think I made a connection with my embodied prayer while running this week. It wasn't just the chants and breaths it was the movement, the power, the strength. It was the physical act being stretched, pushed, and sustained. It was the communion within and beyond myself. It was prayer in a new and exciting way.

Has this happened for you? Do you find yourself praying through and during your exercise? What is that like? How does that happen? What "techniques" can you describe that add to your life of prayer and communion with God? I'm excited to delve into this even more!

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 18

2011-05-18T22:15:00.003-05:00

I had a meeting to begin to plan a funeral that will take place Memorial Day weekend when I'm back from my time off. I was reminded in that meeting how unique my job is tha I get to walk into very intimate times with people I would otherwise have never even met. It's so very cool. I mentioned in a sermon or in worship a few weeks ago the sense of wanting to take off my shoes for I am walking on holy ground. Ever since I thought of that when talking about preaching, I've been thinking about it more and more. It feels like that sentiment fits so many different situations in my life, not just in the church, but at home, at the Y, even in the school or daycare somewhere. Maybe it's because the holy is in all of these things. Maybe for some reason I'm just in tune more to the presence of the divine, the Holy Spirit, than I have been in the past. That's what it feels like. It feels like I'm sensing the holy in the ordinary. I've heard people say that, but never really got it so pardon me if this sounds ridiculous. I'm sort of in awe of the experience and just filled with gratitude for it.

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 17

2011-05-17T23:03:00.004-05:00

My friend, Kari, just started a blog today. Yea for Mamma's Time Out! She wrote about being in mourning as her maternity leave ended and she came back to work at her church. Kari's baby boy is almost exactly 9 months younger than M, so we had fun with our monthly lunches and pregnancy stories! I had a talk with a church member about mourning today. Her husband died a year ago today; I went into labor 48 hours later. I was standing on the chancel leading the congregation in prayer at the funeral a few days after that.

She told me that this has been a rough month. I understand. Her husband's birthday was last week. Today is the anniversary of his death. Her first Mother's Day without the father of her children was the week before that. It's a difficult time with lots of important milestones to pass all at once in the first year of mourning.

Also this week was a death in the congregation of a women who has suffered with Alzheimer's for 7-8 years. People are tempted to sweep this family's mourning under the rug because she "has been gone for so long already." It doesn't matter. I don't think it means they mourn less; I think it means they mourn longer.

Pearl started to walk this week. LadyPrincess has less than month left of kindergarten. My little boy spend two weeks away from home without crying for home ever. I know these are all things to celebrate, but I think I may be feeling a bit mournful about some of them, too. My kiddos are growing up and with each step (literal and figurative) they move a little farther away from me. I mean, I don't have unhealthy feelings that they should be near me, with me, around me forever. I mean, I let my not-quite-4 year old leave for 2 weeks. But maybe as I'm watching this last one go through all the little bitty stages for our last time as a family, I'm mourning a bit that it's our last time.

I joke that keeping M small is God's way of letting me have a baby a little longer. Now that she's walking that doesn't work much anymore. Oh well. They've gotta grow up, right? There are fun times ahead (K's first dance recital is tomorrow!), and I look forward to so many of them. It just means I also have to say goodbye to my favorite parts of these times and that's not always easy.

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 16

2011-05-16T22:29:00.002-05:00

My boy is back! Godzilla made it home from the farm this afternoon, and I was so excited. Maybe I did miss him after all. :) It was weird because I didn't feel horrible while he was gone. In fact I felt guilty that I was sort of enjoying the peace and the ease in the family dynamics without him. I mean I felt REALLY guilty about that. But when I saw Grandma's car parked in front of our house when I got home and then I heard him screaming, "Mooooooooooommyyyyyyyy!" to me as he ran over from across the street I was overjoyed. It was glorious.

He was having a hard time settling down in bed even though he was really tired. I climbed next to him on the bed and told him I had to give him all the kisses I missed. He told me to get off so he could get his blanket up right. I did and started to leave the room, and he said, "No, Mom, now you can sleep here next to me tonight." Loved it. Almost took him up on it.

I need to bookmark this post to read again (tomorrow?) when he's driving me bonkers again.

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 15

2011-05-15T22:23:00.002-05:00

This vacation coming up this week is just. in. time. Maybe it's a little bit late actually, but at least it's happening. Now that I've gone public and put my real name on this blog I have to use that dreaded phrase "unbloggable." I've got a few of those things going on. Oy vey. For real. I mean, it's nothing major that I going tear the church apart, but we've got a couple of small to medium fires burning that all need to be managed and quickly. I've got 2 days in the office this week, so I pray that I'll be able to handle them in that time. I don't want things hanging unfinished over the week off.

And I'm tired. My creative juices are running dry. My confidence in my ability to preach a word from God is pretty low. It's not that I think I can't ever do it. It's that I think I can't do it right now. Hopefully the week is enough, but if not I'm looking forward to two straight weeks in July and August. That will rock my world. Actually, I'm also kind of hoping for a random Sunday off in June if I get selected for a jury!!! I can pray.

NaBloPoMO: Maybe, Day 14-ish

2011-05-14T23:35:00.003-05:00

So, like gazillions of others I was locked out of my blog Thursday and Friday. I don't actually know what the story was, but I saw other people complaining and when I came over here I had lost a post and some comments. I didn't even try to put anything up because I didn't want my words to be lost and wasted.

But maybe there aren't wasted words. I mean, I write in a journal that no one ever reads, but does that mean the words are wasted? I've been thinking about that a lot since I've been trying to up my blogging. I write in a journal daily. I haven't missed a day since like the 6th grade. We're talking over 20 years here. It's on top of that that I have been trying to add daily blogging. It's been hard for me to do.

But the two are totally different. No one reads my journals. I'm pretty sure it's been that way the whole time even though, confessional, I was totally a journal peeker of my sister's as a child. She caught me back then, so it's not complete news to her anyway. But I THINK no one reads mine. I don't imagine or plan for anyone to while I'm alive and I joke that it shouldn't be my kids who read them, but my grandkids. The readers need to be at least a generation removed from me even after I'm dead. I would be embarrassed for them to be read.

The blog I intend for people to read, or rather I hope. I hope for some interaction, so acknowledgement that I'm not crazy or I am good at what I do or I'm not alone. I hope for some relationship or friendship with folks who read me and folks whom I read. So it felt a little bit like it would be a waste just to type somewhere without any potential for the interaction I crave. I've got other places to write my thoughts unanswered. This place is for more.

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 11

2011-05-11T21:43:00.000-05:00

Maybe I'm turning into a runner. Today is supposed to be my resting day according to the Couch to 5K plan, but I'm sort of itching to get out and run. And it's 9:43 pm! I can't believe tomorrow is a rest day, too. I'll be ready to get my running shoes back on Friday even if it's on the treadmill. Ugh, I hate the treadmill, though.

I wonder if I should add in some strength training, or something else that's not running to mix it up a little. I think by now I've probably got myself in good enough shape that adding to the plan wouldn't risk hurting me. I think. I saw a workout plan for going. From a 5K to a 10K and that included something on every day of the week. Some days were running days and others were strength training days, so I bet I could do it without injury. I just need to find the time and the space.

I've been wondering a lot today who or what could have been if I had felt this physically successful way earlier in my life. What if I hadn't believed my own mental message that I was fat, lazy, slow, and completely unathletic? Would I have looked the same? Would I have felt the same? Would I have ended up with the same interests and priorities? Would I have been the I am now and would that matter anyway? I wonder if it would have been a better experience, particularly through junior high and high school. I wonder if I would have had more self-confidence and with it self-esteem. I may not have ended up in the church since so much of my attraction to the church was as a place. Of belonging when I felt like I had none. Maybe I would have felt accepted and included somewhere else and not felt the need to be in a church.

Then the next big question that came to me was how all this thinking and my experience should or will inform how I raise my kids, particularly my daughters. Do I encourage them to a more active lifestyle than I was encouraged? That's not right. I was definitely encouraged; I just chose to ignore that encouragement. Do I force them into a more active lifestyle? How do encourage health without creating body image issues?

Right. Now my plan is to model, model, model. My first runway show is.... Just kidding. I mean, I want my kids to see me making choices for activity over inactivity. I w ant them to see me prioritizing my exercise. I want us to do active things tougher so they don't resent the emphasis I'm giving exercise in my life. I want to give them plenty of options for active healthy activities whether it is playing outside in our yard, sports, dance, going for walks, whatever. I want to give the positive messages early on about their involvement in healthy activities to counter their own self-deprecating thoughts. I don't have negatives feelings at all about the messages I heard from my parents, but they had no idea how horrible the soundtrack was in my head. I didn't let them hear it, so I give them no blame. I guess what I want to try to do is speak only positive soundtracks around them, not just about them, but about me to show them it's healthy to love yourself.

I think that'll be my start!

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 10a

2011-05-10T22:51:00.002-05:00

Folks are calling today May 10a. Or at least Presbygeeks are. I just got home from my presbytery meeting in which Presbytery of the Twin Cities area became the 87 vote to approve replacement language for "fidelity and chastity" in the Book of Order. If you're not Presbyterian (and maybe if you are), your eyes probably just glazed over. Long story short, presbyteries and session or. No longer specifically prohibited from ordaining open and practicing non-heterosexuals.

I'm probably supposed to gall philosophical here, but I don't think I will. It's late. I'm tired. And frankly I'm not all that philosophical. This is something I am in complete support of, but I haven't been an activist as some are. I was at GA when the previous language was proposed and began the process for inclusion. I was a YAD that year and was torn about staying in the church that had what seemed to me to be a ridiculous policy. I was angry and dismissive of folks on the "other side" who obviously just didn't get it.

I've grown over time, thank goodness, and now see that there are people of REAL FAITH on all sides of this issue. "They" aren't ignorant or clueless or uninformed. They are real people who read and pray and worry about the church just like I do. It sounds silly now, but it was a big change over in my thinking about these conversations in the church.

I know it's not over yet. There is still much division in the church. We still have the concern of same sex marriage to struggle with, but maybe this is a good beginning. Maybe this will be a new way to try to be the church together. Maybe we'll find out that we can live together and even serve and strive together. I sure hope so. I sure hope so.

NaBloPoMo: Maybe (not), Day 9

2011-05-09T21:59:00.002-05:00

OK. The main goal of this is to get me blogging more, specifically daily, at least for the month of May. I don't have anything on the "maybe" topic, but I've got something else.

I've got anxiety. LadyPrincess has her birthday party on Saturday. After much hemming and hawing about where it would be and what we would do, K decided she just wanted to have friends over to our (very small) house to color with chalk, eat pizza, and have cake. Hey. I can do that. We sent invitations home with all the girls in her class (just 7 including her) last week and now we wait for the responses.

Enter my anxiety. We got our first RSVP today, a yes, which is great. I'm waiting anxiously for more. I'm worried for her that for some reason people aren't coming. I know. It's stupid, but she has waited so patiently (usually) all year for her turn to have her birthday and her party. She is literally the last kid to turn 6 in her class during the school year. We have gone to just about every party, and she is so excited to have her own, a simple one, at home. This couldn't be any easier, but I'm freaked out that for some reason no one will come and she will be heartbroken.

Goodness, gracious, SheRev. Get a grip. Am I really going to relive every one of my own childhood issues through my children? Because this could be ridiculous. In fact it feels even worse than my own issues because I'm just so much more keenly aware of how painful it could be, and I don't want my big girl to be hurt.

I get that people just don't seem to RSVP anymore. I work in the church and plan programs. I DEFINITELY get that people don't RSVP. Couldn't they just do it this once, so my stomach would stop churning? Maybe just this once? (There I got one maybe in.)

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 8

2011-05-08T22:30:00.002-05:00

Maybe 2 weeks was too long. I don't want to say "I told you so," but.... Actually I can't say it because I never told anyone so. I was too busy trying to be the tough, supportive mom to tell anyone I wasn't sure 2 weeks was a good idea. Apparently Godzilla starts to get a little wistful for home today. Apparently he didn't goo upset, but started to ask for home. He's not coming back for over a week. I was doing pretty darn well until I heard that. I feel bad knowing he might be sad even if I'm doing pretty well myelf. Hopefully it blows over. If we need to go get him, it really won't work out to do it until the weekend, and by that time it'll only be a few days until he's coming home anyway. I think he'll do OK. I'll do OK, too. Just remind me when he's been back a week or so how much I'm missing him!

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 7

2011-05-07T22:51:00.003-05:00

I'm having second thoughts, but way too late to do anything about them. I'm wondering if I over-estimated the need to organize worship tomorrow around reactions to the death of Osama bin Laden. Maybe it's not what I thought it was. I thought it was something that had to be addressed, something I've never really done with a potentially political current event. I thought this was one I just couldn't ignore, particularly the variety of responses to the initial news. But now it seems..old. Weird. It's not old at all, obviously, but things move so fast that it feels like people have moved on. Is it worth it to open it all back up? I hope this is a good decision I'm making. I just don't know anymore, but I don't want to scrape together a last minute alternate plan. We'll see what happens.

Friday Five Word Association

2011-05-06T13:24:00.004-05:00

From Songbird at the RevGals: It's been a busy week for me, trying to get back into the routine after a post-Easter vacation. (How did it get to be Easter 3?) So to keep it simple, here's a Word Association Friday Five, with a bonus twist for those feeling creative. First, for each of these five words -- all of which remind me of my *most* excellent vacation -- share the first word that comes to mind when you read it.

1) Airport - Atlanta
2) Baseball - Orioles
3) Art - Museum
4) Chocolate - Pastry
5) Grill - Spain

Bonus: Tell us a story that comes to mind based on one of the word pairs.

Wow! For some reason as soon as I glanced at the list of words I started thinking of my father, my bio-dad. I don't refer to him much because he has been dead for a few years and usually when I'm talking about my dad, currently or even in older stories, I'm talking about my stepdad, but those words and therefore my answers brought him to mind. I guess because they are vacation words, and summer vacations as a kid meant flying to see my father, including flying overseas a number of years when he lived in Germany while we lived in Florida. One summer we spent a month in Spain which is where the grill comes from. Most nights we cooked on the grill on the back porch of our rental house. When I get to season them I still season steaks the way my dad did several times a week on that trip, simply, with pepper, seasoned salt, and rubbed down with crushed garlic. No big stories, just a general impression.

Thanks for the nice easy one! It's been a while since I have played since Fridays are busy days with my kids who are home. I'm on my own today so it was nice to pop in!

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 6

2011-05-06T12:56:00.003-05:00

Maybe God got it wrong. I'm a heretic, I know. But maybe God got it wrong when I got daughters. Now don't misunderstand me, I LOVE my girls. I mean, I really really love them. Last night as I was nursing Pearl to sleep, I was relishing in the moment, knowing that as she is getting close to a year old these nights are getting fewer and and farther between. I can be gone and away from her for longer periods of time because nursing isn't necessary anymore. It's more like bonus time. Anyway, I was nursing her and also waiting for her to fall asleep so I could go tuck the Princess into bed. She was lying there waiting for me, but apparently the wait got long. She was asleep when I finally got there. I turned her light off, stood on the edge of Godzilla's bed and peeked up into the top bunk. Thankfully she was close to the edge. Then I did what every mother is told to never do - - I tried to wake my sleeping "baby." It didn't work so well, but that's OK because I got one of my favorite sights - - that half sleeping and awake purely blissful smile. Love it. Absolutely love it.

Fast-forward about 11 hours and I can't even believe it's the same girl. This is when I think maybe God mixed up the order at the baby assembly line. It was breakfast time and we had gotten there a little later than I intended. There wasn't time to make the scrambled eggs LadyPrincess requested. I talked her into oatmeal and proceeded to make it. When I placed that piping hot bowl of apple cinnamon goodness in front of her all hell broke loose. I kid you not. I couldn't kid you if I wanted to because I never would have thought to make up a story where the little girl FREAKS out about the oatmeal. She wanted to open the packet and pour it in the bowl. Really. That's all. That's what I messed up. I ripped open the little paper packet and poured it in the bowl.

Drama ensued. There's was stomping of feet, slamming of doors, tears, lots of tears, screaming into a pillow, and a refusal to eat the oatmeal. Holy cow. Are you sure, God? This is what you thought I could handle?

If my mom new about my blog I'm sure she'd be cracking up right now because I am fully aware that this bugs me because I did the exact. same. thing. as a child. OK, not about oatmeal because we didn't eat oatmeal, but about anything, everything else. In fact, I remember these own irrational, emotional tantrums of my own which is exactly why I was sure God would only give me boys. Again, not that I don't like girls, just that I couldn't imagine that many emotions in one house at the same time.

I am well aware that this is just the beginning and all you well-meaning moms of teenage or older girls, please don't fall prey to the urge to tell me this is nothing compared to what is coming. I know that, and if no one else has ever told you this, hear it from me - - saying that to another mom of younger kids doesn't sound nearly as helpful and compassionate to us as it does to you.

I sent the girl off to school still completely unresolved about her oatmeal. I had given lots of hugs, let her cry on my shoulder and in my arms, but eventually she had to go. She was still crying as she walked down the front stairs of our yard. I had asked her what was really going on, what was making her sad in her heart, why was she feeling so angry. She couldn't articulate anything other than the oatmeal. A friend of mine said this morning, "Sometimes it is just about the oatmeal!" Maybe she's missing Godzilla. I don't know. I hope she's having a better day even right this second. I don't like to see her so sad, and, well, frankly, I don't know if I can handle it if she comes home still that upset.

Love my girls to death. Really I do. I LOVE them like I never knew I could, but sometimes I wonder if maybe God forgot I was supposed to get boys.

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 5

2011-05-05T22:20:00.002-05:00

This week has been kind of a mess for me in the running department. I have had the synod meeting and other conflicts that knocked me off my regular schedule. I have ended up one day short in my week of Couch to 5K. I have this obsession when I am trying to be committed to something to make sure I do each and every little step. The problem is that I need to keep progressing or I will drop it all together. I know myself. I know I can't let that happen.

I think maybe tomorrow I need to just skip the last day of the last week (3 25 minute runs) and just move on to the next week (3 28 minute runs). My 5K is only 2 weeks away, and if I lose another week I'll never get there. I seems kind of scary to just go on, but I think I need to in order to keep up.

I can't believe how close it is. I can't believe I'm almost doing it. It makes me wonder if maybe I did have the ability when I was younger. I was so convinced that I was a big, un-athletic, lazy couch dweller. Really. The message playing in my head was that I could never be physically fit; I would never be pretty in THAT way. I would never have the ability to move and be healthy and in shape.

But now I'm doing it and maybe I could have all along. I'm thrilled to be finding that out, but also a little sad. It makes me wonder if I could have or should have tried harder. I doesn't do me any good to think about it now, but it makes me wonder if my experience would have been different, better even.

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 4

2011-05-04T21:55:00.003-05:00

I can't even remember now where the conversation started last night, but I think P and I are going to go on a cruise next winter. Maybe (OK, so it's sort of a lame way to sneak the theme in, but whatever.) I'm excited. We haven't had a REAL vacation just the two of us pretty much ever. I've looked at a few possibilities on-line. I really really want to do a longer one, at least 5 nights, to the Western Caribbean. I have loved the itineraries that include Belize. I can't believe he's gone along with my little bit of planning so far, but he has.

We so need this. First of all I need to get vacation after Christmas. I have said it several times, and I haven't made it happen yet, I need to space my vacations out. Secondly, I NEED to get a break from winter next year. Thirdly, we need some time away without kiddos. It will be awesome. I'm such a dork. It's not even for sure, and it's at least 8 months away, but darn it. I'm excited. Now it better happen.

It better not be maybe

NaMoBloPo: Maybe, Day 3

2011-05-03T22:10:00.004-05:00

So I've been thinking about the church, the church I serve, not the church universal. Maybe I should think about that someday, too, but right now I'm on this one. I've talked and thought and preached and probably blogged about our need to find our thing, our mission, our particular way of engaging our community. We've discerned a a project that the church has gotten behind, and that's great. I think it's something we're called to do.

Maybe, though we also need to look at who we are called to be. I lament sometimes that I am the only female minister in town, besides a VERY good friend who is a part time ELCA associate pastor. On top of that there are only 5 churches out of probably about 15 that could even have female ministers. (Another question for another day is, "Why do we have 15 churches in a town of 11,000?"). The churches in this town are conservative. The Christian message folks hear is conservative. Now I don't have too much of a problem with conservative in general, but I do have a problem with judgmental and intolerant. I don't think all of our churches fall in those camps, but I do think there are some. And I do know that some are vocal.

Maybe our church needs to get vocal, too. Maybe we need to make the conscious decision to speak up about who we are and what our distinctive message is. I'm not talking about a distinctive liberal message, because we are not a uniformly liberal congregation by any means. I'd say we probably lean that direction if you average us all up in some sort of numerical fashion, but we are not all in agreement on many theological issues. Yet somehow we live together. Somehow we don't let those things get between us. Somehow we agree to disagree on the non-essentials, and are more interested in giving people are place to grow and a community in which they can belong and worship and serve.

I don't know that it has been conscious. It probably was at some point, at least somewhat during the peace process before I came. Some of our agreeing to disagree may also be "avoiding the conversation" in disguise. I can admit that. However, I think we have a good bit of groundwork already laid to develop our voice in the community as a church WITHOUT all the answers. Maybe it's time we start using that voice.

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 2

2011-05-02T21:46:00.003-05:00

What was a I thinking deciding to try this daily blog thing in May? I should have tried February when there are fewer days. 31? I don't know if I have a chance of coming close. A blogger that I follow celebrated when she finished one month saying, roughly, that none of her posts were just random stuff to write fill in the space. I don't think I can promise that.

Maybe I'm not cut out to be a writer. Not that I'm trying to be a WRITER-writer, but maybe not I'm not cut out to be a reflective, inspiring, journaling, challenging, processing writer. And maybe that's OK.

Because when I was thinking about today's post, all i could think of was the song "Maybe" in the movie Annie. I love it - - the movie and the song. It opens the whole show. It's the song of an orphan, longing for a different life. It was from the moment I saw the movie at the age of 4 or 5 my favorite song. How depressing! I used to organize playground games of "Annie" at recess, and each game, no matter what scene we were re-enacting , would begin with my brilliant rendition of "Maybe." What was going on with me?

I could armchair-psychoanalyze that to death, but it's probably not that hard. Child experiencing divorce at a young age. Doing the parent shuffle for visitation. I felt somewhere in the middle I'm sure, and probably longed for that same image Annie did.

Or maybe I just liked how she sat up high in that window and took care of Molly when she had a nightmare.

I don't quite know where I am going with this, probably a whole lot of nowhere, but well, it's what came to mind tonight with the thought of maybe. Man, I loved that movie!

NaBloPoMo: Maybe, Day 1

2011-05-01T23:12:00.006-05:00

OK, so I don't have a great track record with trying to do things daily around here. Let's be honest, I don't even have a good track record. I'm going to try anyway to participate in the NaBloPoMo daily blog "challenge" for the month of May. The topic is "Maybe."

I'm starting at at difficult time of an interesting day. I just sat in the common room of the Lutheran retreat center where I'm attending a synod meeting to watch the president announce the killing of Osama bin Ladin. i know there are going to be a lot of eloquent words typed in the days ahead, but mine will not be among them. It's 11:22 p.m. as I'm starting. My baby is sleeping in a Pack 'n' Play at the foot of my bed. And I don't know what I think.

Maybe I should be celebrating with thousands (more like millions?) across this country. Maybe I should be typing up pithy judgmental statements and putting them on Twitter, berating the folks who feel this is a time to celebrate. Maybe I should pray for the families of 9/11 victims. Maybe I should be worried about the use of the word "justice" in the president's speech. Maybe I should be sad that the world has come to this.

Really I'm feeling some of all these things, and trying not to act on any of them. Sometimes I think it's just too soon to act or react. Sometimes I just have to live with things for a while. On the one hand I see and can cognitively understand the joy some people are experiencing, but on the other I am just not there. Is it because I'm a mother? Is it because no matter how horrible he may have been I just can't imagine rejoicing at the death of someone's child? I don't know.

I know that I'm not comfortable with the word justice as I'm hearing it. I hear it as a deeply theological and spiritual term, and I hope the way it's being used is as a secular term. I don't know. Maybe.

I know that I'm not comfortable with a single line in the president's speech in which he said that bin Ladin's "death should be welcomed by all who believe in peace." It wasn't the whole speech (which over all I felt was well done), but it made me cringe.

I don't know. I don't know how I am feeling about everything I have learned in the last hour or so, but I know that I'm going to have to go back home and get in the pulpit on Sunday morning and speak about this before and among the people of God I am privileged to serve. Maybe they're unsure about it all, too. Maybe I'm not the only one stuck in this tension of celebration and confusion Maybe.

Looking for Proof

2011-05-01T10:54:00.001-05:00

John 20:19-31

"Christianity has an image problem." That's the opening line from a book released in 2007 called unChristian. "Christianity has an image problem." The book discusses research that involved polling youth and young adults from inside and outside of the church to find out just what this segment of Americans thinks about Christians. That line sums up the author's feelings upon analyzing the research. "Christianity has an image problem."

I should probably say before going too much further that I disagree with a good number of the action points the author suggests, but the research he presents and shares is invaluable. Whether we want to hear it or not, it is good for us in the church to know that those who don't come through our doors, particularly young people, think we are hypocritical, salvation-oriented rather than relationship-oriented, anti-homosexual, sheltered, too political, and judgmental. Whew. What a report card!

But this is what people are saying about us. This is what people, particularly young people, think about who and what the church is. This is what people, who have heard a little about the Jesus we worship, Christ whose name we claim, think about those of us who call ourselves Christians, and it's something to which we need to pay attention. The good news in all of this is that even if they think we're doing a poor job of mimicking him, they seem to have the right idea about Jesus. If these are their complaints about the church than at least they see that Jesus is steadfast, loving, inclusive, and forgiving. At least they can see past the way the church messes up his image. Now we just need to work on bringing ourselves in line with that image.

People are watching us. People are wondering if what we say is true, and right now anyway, people are doubting that we are who we say we are, followers of the risen Christ. They are doubting and questioning and looking for proof that the resurrection is real and that the body of Christ really is here, on earth, now. There are a lot of Thomases out there.

Thomas wasn't in the house with the rest of the disciples when Jesus came in on the evening of the resurrection. He missed the big reunion, the showing of Jesus' hands and side, the breathing of the Holy Spirit on Jesus' disciples. Thomas wasn't in that room when the proof was made visible, when Jesus spoke to them and showed them the wounds on his hands and his side. He missed seeing it with his own eyes, experiencing it with his own life.

He's gotten a bad reputation over the years. Ordinarily people don't mean it as a compliment when they call him "Doubting Thomas," but his doubting seems to me to be perfectly normal. What he heard when he returned to the disciples from wherever he was just didn't make sense. The resurrection didn't make sense. Even if he had had some kind of hint that it was coming, it is pretty unbelievable. I'd say Thomas wasn't so much of a "Doubting Thomas," but a "Questioning Thomas," a "Just want to be sure Thomas," a "I need a little proof Thomas."

That's what the people around us need, too. A lot of them are doubting, but I think the doubting starts with questioning. They need to see a little proof that these followers of Jesus are serious, that we followers of Jesus are for real. They have heard about Jesus, one way or another. They seem to understand, one way or another, that his message and his life is about love, acceptance, and forgiveness. They just need to see something that lets them know that we are about what he was about. They just need to see a little proof that Jesus is alive, that the resurrection really does mean there is new life, that his body is really real, really here, really at work in the world.

There's a pithy little statement that goes around. I haven't really discovered it's origins. It's been attributed to some famous world religious leaders, but I can't find anything to back that up. However, it is still a telling and challenging statement to Christians. "I like Jesus; it's his followers I can stand." Is that not an important thing to hear? Does that not tell us volumes about how we are perceived, how we are reflecting on ourselves and our God? There are people out there watching, waiting, looking for proof, but we don't seem to be showing them the resurrection. We don't seem to be demonstrating new life in any way that looks like good news.

Eventually, a week after the resurrection, the disciples are back in the house together. Thomas is with them this time, and even though the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them. His response to Thomas' request from the week before is one of my favorite parts of the whole story. His response is NOT one of his "Ye of little faith" moments. Jesus doesn't berate the disciple who missed his first appearance. and needed to see for himself. He doesn't chastise the one who needed a little more proof, something to see and to touch to be able to believe the resurrection is true.

That apparently is what we in the church are perceived, among other things, as doing. The people who doubt the connection of the church to Jesus are used to a kind of Christianity that yells at people who don't believe. They are used to seeing a side of the church full of deceit and false prophets, judges and overly pious, but completely disengaged "believers" They are used to being told that their questions aren't going to get them into heaven, and "ye of little faith" are in eternal trouble.

But this is NOT what Jesus says to the one who questions him, the one who doubts that he is alive. This is NOT what Jesus says to Thomas who just wants a little more proof that what everyone is saying is true. Jesus says, "Peace." Jesus invites Thomas to touch what he needs to touch, to see what he needs to see to believe. Jesus shows up ready to give Thomas whatever he can in order that Thomas will believe what is true. Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed.

Earlier in this worship service, as we prepared to ordain and install new leaders in this congregation, we heard the witness of Scripture from Paul's first letter to the Corinthians. The church in Corinth was a troubled church. There was bickering inside of it, debates about all sorts of things, including whose gifts for service were the best. Paul tries to impress upon the church that no one gift is more spiritual or more necessary than another.

He compares the church to a body, one body, with many different members. The foot is not any less a part of the body because it is not the hand. The ear is not less of the body because it is not an eye. The church is, Paul declares to us, the body of Christ and each of us are members of it. We are the body of Christ.

Later today we will hear New Spirit sing a song that asked "If we are the body?" The song talks about two people who come to worship who are left out for some reason or another. One is teased and mocked and she slips into a pew. Another person sinks into the back row beneath judgmental glances. "If we are the body," the song asks, "Why aren't His arms reaching, why aren't his hand healing, why aren't his words teaching?" "If we are the Body why aren't His feet going? Why is His love not showing them there is a way?"

The world, this town, even our neighborhood is full of Thomases, not who have rejected that Jesus is loving, compassionate, and forgiving, but who haven't seen proof that the church is his body. The world, this town, even our neighborhood doesn't need to hear from us or any other church that calls itself Christian, "Ye of little faith." Instead we need to show them with the works of our hands, with the walk of our feet, with the love of our hearts that Jesus is alive, that his life is our life, that his love is our love. The world, this town, even our neighborhood is waiting to see the body of Christ and the evidence of his welcoming love. Let's make it our goal to fix Christianity's image problem, even just here on our little spot on the globe, by walking with his feet, healing with his hands, reaching with his arms, and offering peace with his words and ours. Amen.

Big Questions

2011-04-28T16:05:00.002-05:00

photo © 2008 Valerie Everett | more info (via: Wylio)
The ecumenical youth ministry our congregation is a part of is having an "Ask A Pastor" night at its meetings next week. I've signed up to be the pastor for the senior high group. The 20-something male youth leader is the other "pastor" fielding questions. He's non-ordained from an evangelical, non-denominational (I think) background. The youth come from Episcopal, ELCA Lutheran, American Baptist, and un-churched backgrounds. My own PC(USA) church has no high schoolers right now, so there aren't any of us in the mix.

We tried this in the fall and the kids didn't ask too many questions on the spot so it was different. The questions they did ask were "surface" questions. This time they have been submitting them in written form, and things are getting more interesting.

Just thought I'd share what's on the kids' minds and definitely get any input on answering any of them!!!

1. What is your favorite verse?

2. Was Jesus a Caucasian?

3. How old was Jesus when he died?

4. Why don’t the people in the Bible have last names?

5. How can I know I have a soul?

6. How long are people in heaven?

7. How can I know my faith is real?

8. What is your favorite part of a church service?

Thomas...Again!

2011-04-26T14:09:00.004-05:00

I say that somewhat jokingly because even though Thomas shows up in the lectionary every. single. year. on the second Sunday of Easter. I believe I have preached from his story exactly once. Even as an associate pastor I think I dodged this one most of the time. Our annual youth Sunday was usually the week after Easter, and after we moved that it turned into Confirmation Sunday. I usually let the kids pick my text for that one, or at least give me a few suggestions.

Anyway! So here we are at Thomas Sunday AGAIN, and I'm looking for God's word for us this time around. I looked up my last one, and I still like it which is not that helpful. It's only been two years, and although I'm certain no one else will remember it, I would feel bad pulling from the bag again already. So, here it goes.

Right now I'm thinking about the role of the church in a world of Thomases, not so much doubting Thomases, but questioning Thomases, Thomases who just haven't seen any proof yet. We can't blame Thomas for wanting the good fortune of the same experience the others had of Jesus. I bet any one of them would have asked for the same proof, the same evidence of Jesus' resurrection that he asked for. I mean, it was a pretty unbelievable thing.

The book review and discussion of UnChristian at RevGals yesterday and my own reading around in some of John Shelby Spong's and Marcus Borg's stuff (surprising all three of these have led me to a united thought) have got me thinking about all the folks who question the church, who are looking for some proof about the claims we make, the things we say are true.

I think that's where I'm going with Thomas this year. So he's asking his questions, so good. He should ask them. People all around us are asking their questions, too. If Christians are the body of Christ, where is the proof? What are we doing that shows our love for Jesus, his love for the world? What do our hands look like? I'm not looking for marks of crucifixion here, but marks or signs that we're doing what he did, working for the peace he says he brings.

Watch out, folks, this could get preachy, especially with less time than usual (communion and ordination/installation of officers), but I like the general track I'm on. Maybe I'm even far enough along that I'll be able to write on my writing day tomorrow!

Set back

2011-04-25T12:15:00.004-05:00

A couple of weeks ago I had my first set back since starting Couch to 5K. One week before Palm Sunday I went for my second ever outside run. The weather has NOT been cooperating with me this so-called spring, so most of my runs have been on the treadmill. Two days before this second outside run, I had also tried one on the indoor track at the Y. It's a short one (mind-numbingly short 17 laps=1 mile), but it was better than the treadmill after I had experienced my first "free range" run outside.

Well, Monday morning I woke up, but could barely move. My back was a mess. A huge mess. It was extremely difficult to get myself out of bed, showered, dressed, not to mention getting 3 kids dressed and out the door to school and daycare. It was a horribly painful day. The next day was even worse, and I called my doctor to see if there was anything to do.

I had a sciatic nerve problems with each of my three pregnancies, and had a real bad flare up about 6 months after my second child was born. This was that bad. Last time it was 2 weeks before we were moving from Lincoln, Nebraska to Hudson, Wisconsin, so I did some intense physical therapy to get it good enough to survive the packing, the moving, and the 7 hour drive. It worked and all was well. I have had a few twinges here and there since, but nothing that knocked me off me feet again until this month.

I saw my doctor, got some steroids, decided to hold off on stronger pain meds if I could, and heard about options for longer term treatment if another flare up comes back. Mostly, though, I was discouraged. I felt defeated. Here I was FINALLY trying to take care of myself, FINALLY trying to get in shape, FINALLY trying to do something new and good for me and I was benched with this miserable back. I was particularly upset that it was disrupting my Couch to 5K program. Just days before I had signed up for my first ever 5K that falls just a week after I am planning to finish the 9 week program. Time off me feet and out of my running shoes means potentially missing that goal.

photo © 2008 Andreanna Moya | more info (via: Wylio)
My the third day or so of the steroid treatment I started to feel better, but I was scared to get started again. I was also scared that not starting again would set me a week or two back in the program. I have let myself lapse in exercise before. In fact that is usually when I have quit. Coming back after a break was so discouraging that I haven't wanted to continue.

On about day 5 of the prescription I went back to the gym. I decided I would repeat the week I had to put on hold, all three runs. I decided to hop on the (booooooor-ring) treadmill instead of the track since I heard that may have been part of my problem. Our track is notoriously hard and painful for runners. I did so with great fear and trembling.

You know what, though? It went alright. I didn't lose much time or endurance at all really. I kept my old pace, if not increased it. I did it without sliding backwards, losing my energy, or quitting because it was easy to quit. The on-line community at #runrevrun and RunRevRun were a huge part of that success. I knew people were watching for me. I knew people were on a similar slow and steady path toward healthier living. I felt the companionship and encouragement of the community, and that made me want to push on. Week 5 worked well as a re-run and even really seemed to be a turning point for me and my attitude.

I feel like there may be parallels here for my spiritual discipline, or lack there of. I have that same tendency to quit when I lapse in prayer or reading Scripture for something OTHER than preaching or teaching. I have tried books and reading schedules and the daily office and devotionals, but nothing has quite held my attention in recent days (OK years). I have had short spurts of discipline usually during an Advent or Lent season, but when I have reached my "goal" I lose my commitment.

Maybe there's something to learn from the new care for my physical self in my need to care for my spiritual self, too. Accountability and community seems to be an important part. Pushing through when I just feel tired is probably key, too. Mostly, though, I think I need to recover the sense that THIS IS IMPORTANT. This is something God created me to do and to be - - a physically and spiritually healthy child of God. Connecting to the Spirit is something I need to rediscover so that just like with my running, I can continue to develop into the mother, wife, and pastor God is calling me to be.

Living the Resurrection - Easter sermon

2011-04-23T03:25:00.000-05:00

photo © 2007 fester_franz | more info (via: Wylio)
Matthew 28:1-10
Jeremiah 31:1-6
Colossians 3:1-3

Last Sunday when we were leaving church K, my 5 year old daughter, was walking in front of me, a little too close in front of me. She has this habit of walking right in front of me, and it's sort of cute and sort of annoying. I try to remember it's cute when I'm feeling mostly annoyed by it. It's like she wants to be independent and walk not right next to me, but at the same time there's some kind of tether that pulls her to walk closer because she also doesn't want to get too far. She ends up walking right in front of me, criss-crossing across my path really just about 3/4 of a step in front of me. See the annoying part?

Well, she was doing it last Sunday as we were walking across the parking lot of the church to our car, but not only was she walking annoying closely in front of me, she was also bopping her head up and down, starting and stopping, and generally just driving me nuts with it. With the baby in my arms and simply trying not to fall over her, the cute part had definitely left a while ago. I begged her to stop and just walk when she told me, "But we have two heads! I want us to just have one head!”

Uhhhhh…what? I didn’t get it. “We have one body, but two heads!!!” she insisted, pointing to the parking lot pavement in front of us. She was right. On our combined shadow in front of us we had one body, as my shadow engulfed hers, but we had two heads. “I want to hide my shadow in yours,” she said.

I wonder if that’s what the women were trying to do when they went to the tomb early in the morning on the day after the Sabbath. It wouldn’t have been right for them to go any earlier. They couldn’t travel, especially not to the place where the dead are buried, on the Sabbath. But as soon as there was light on the next day, they made their way to the tomb, not in Matthew’s gospel to take care of his body, but just to see, to know with their own eyes, their own minds, their own experiences where Jesus’ body lay, just to lose themselves in him.

But on the way there, the earth shook, the stone rolled, and everything in the world, everything they had ever known or believed or trusted was changed. “He is not here; for he has been raised,” they were told by the angel they saw instead of Jesus. “He is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.” Go, the angel told the women. Go and tell the rest of the disciples. Go, all of you, to Galilee and be with him. Hide your shadow in his.

Eugene Peterson, a Presbyterian pastor and author of the Bible version called The Message, likes to tell how this passage, these words from the angel, helped him get over his anxiety whenever he was thrust into a difficult situation. It reminded him that no matter how fast he could get to the hospital when word came that a church member was ill, Christ was already there. When I worked as a chaplain in an Atlanta hospital we talked about how even as ministers it wasn’t up to us to bring God into a patient’s room. God was already there. Our job was just to seek where God was already working in the room and join God in the ministry taking place.

Jesus went ahead of them to Galilee. He was alive and already there. They just had to join him. They just had to find him, what he was doing, and hide themselves in him.

This is what Easter is about. Or at least this is what the resurrection is about according to Paul’s letter to the Colossians, and the resurrection is what Easter is about. We all know it’s not about bunnies and eggs and chocolate and jelly beans, although, who was sad to get any of those this morning? We know that Easter isn’t about all of those things, and we probably even know it’s about the resurrection, but then that’s where we get tripped up sometimes.

We get caught up in thinking that the resurrection is a story to believe (or even disbelieve). We get caught up in trying to work out the historical details, so that we can know what really did (or didn’t) happen. We debate whether it was physical or spiritual, whether it was literal or metaphorical. We get stuck in the details of the resurrection event itself, of Easter day itself, and completely forget or never even realize that even more than one event on one day, the resurrection is about life.

It is about a life-altering, transformative way of life. It’s not just something that happened to Jesus. According to Matthew’s telling, according to Paul’s letter, it’s a whole new way of being, a way of being with Jesus who is alive and in the world and calling us to join him. Resurrection is for us even today!

When we gathered for worship with First Baptist Church on Good Friday the scriptures we heard and the word I was called to preach reminded us that in Jesus of Nazareth God became human. Willingly and loving, Jesus emptied himself, gave up some of what it meant to be God to also be human. He submitted himself to the limitations of our life even to the point of death, death on a cross. By joining us on earth, by taking on our flesh and living our bodily life, Jesus joined himself to us.

What Paul tells the Colossians and even tells us is that just as Jesus joined himself to us, made himself more like us and brought us closer to him, by dying like we will die, at the same time he also lifted us up with him when he was raised again to new life. Our lives are tied to his life, so as he died we will die and as he lives again, so do we. Jesus’ resurrection from the dead, Jesus’ new life after the grave is our assurance that death does not win, that hope is not lost, that God’s promises are not forgotten. Jesus’ resurrection from the dead is the fulfillment of the promise that God is still active. God is still here. God will not abandon us, not in the life to come and not in the life we live today.

Yet it doesn’t always seem that way. It’s no secret, and it’s not unfaithful to talk about it. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like God is still here. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like God is transforming life. Sometimes it feels like we have been abandoned. The earth that quaked when Jesus rose from the dead, quakes again, bringing death, distruction, and fear. Bodies that have been well cared for and healthy for years are suddenly stuck with disease and illness. Nations are at odds with nations; innocent people are caught in the middle. Health care is unattainable and those on the margins are left suffering. Human beings are caught in the bondage of slavery, and God’s creation is at the mercy of irresponsible and devastating hands. No, it doesn’t always feel like the resurrection has made any bit of a difference. It doesn’t always feel like anything has changed at all.

And it probably didn’t for the women at the tomb either, or the disciples when they first heard the news. Simply hearing about what had happened wasn’t what they all needed; simply believing it is true doesn’t change the world. They had to step out and do something about what they heard. They had to go and see Jesus, meet him where he was waiting for them in the world. They had to go out and get involved in his resurrection life.

The resurrection becomes real when we set our minds on the things from above, the things that are from God. The resurrection becomes real when look for the signs of new life where God is active in the world and then we join God in that resurrection life. Resurrection life is happening wherever the old is being made new again, wherever people are rebuilding what had been knocked down, wherever vineyards that had been trampled are being replanted. Resurrection life is happening wherever God is bringing life out of death, and THERE we must join in and be a part of Christ’s new life in the world.

Seek the things that are above, Paul writes, where Christ is. Seek out what God desires, what Christ is already doing, where Christ is already going ahead of us. Seek out the places in this world where God is already active, waiting like Jesus waited in Galilee for the disciples to come and join him. Seek out the places in our community where Jesus is blessing others, serving the poor, tending to the sick, bringing comfort to the lonely, and go, hide your life in his. Join his resurrection life bringing hope into a world over-shadowed by death. Join him in revealing God’s glory!

The resurrection isn’t an incident to be remembered, it’s a life to be lived.

Cross Promises

2011-04-22T10:54:00.005-05:00

photo © 2008 abcdz2000 | more info (via: Wylio)
Matthew 27:31-50
Philippians 2:5-11

As I was talking to my older children, who are 3 and 5 years old, about the things we do to get ready for Easter, Palm Sunday, Passion narratives, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, I ended up with a lot of explaining to do. Palm Sunday is pretty obvious from the story and tradition, but words like passion and maundy aren’t as intuitive. And then we have Good Friday. I told them we would have Good Friday worship, and they immediately got excited. “Yea! Good Friday!” Just the name got them happy and excited, but when I told them what happened on Good Friday their joy slipped away.

“Well, that’s not a good Friday,” my 3 year old said to me. And he’s right. It’s not. It's not a good day at all. Good Friday is the day that the corruption of the human spirit seems to win. Good Friday is the day when innocence is punished, when blamelessness is struck, when holiness is knocked over, to the ground, and even spat upon. Good Friday is the day when evil seemed to overshadow good and God ended up on a cross. What’s so good about Good Friday?

I’ve heard different answers, different explanations about why we call this day “good.” Most popular is the understanding that good just doesn't mean what we usually think it does. It means pious or holy. Others say that the day is good because although what happened is terrible, horrific even, it is ultimately good because of what was accomplished. Sure Jesus was beaten, tortured, mocked, and killed, but ultimately that's all good because by all of that our sinful lives were redeemed (hint of sarcasm, anyone?). Taking that understanding too far can be on the one hand dismissive of the very real experience of Jesus and on the other self-centered.

While they aren't in and of themselves bad explanations, I have never been completely satisfied with the answers I have heard, until this year. I heard a new one that helps to round the others out. It doesn't replace them, but adds to them, and at least for me, speaks a truth that is extremely relevant today. The explanation is a linguistic one, similar to the reason we use the word "maundy" for Maundy Thursday; it's an older Anglicized word that relates back to the word mandatum, commandment in Latin. The Good in Good Friday, according to this reasoning, may have come about in modern English from an older name for this holy day, "God's Friday."

God's Friday. Even this can seem a little counter-intuitive because if anything it seems like God hardly shows up on Friday. We hear that accusation in the voices of the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders, "If HE is God he could just get himself right down from that cross. If he really is the Son of God, where is God now? Where is the God he trusts so much? God sure isn't showing up for Jesus who hangs on a cross." God's Friday? But where is God?

Where is God when Jesus appears before councils and governors who accuse him out of fear? Where is God when Jesus hears the crowds shout for the release of Barrabbas and chant for his crucifixion? Where is God when Jesus is bound and marched up the hill to the place of his crucifixion? Where is God when Jesus is nailed to the cross and in his agony challenged and mocked and taunted?

Where is God when the doctor says cancer? Where is God when the boss hands over a pink slip? Where is God when a phone call comes in the middle of the night? Where is God when our children are hurting? Where is God when depression descends like a heavy fog? Where is God when the bully comes around the corner again? When the bank account is close to empty? When our faith is challenged by those who question, who mock, "Where is your God now? Why won't your God deliver?"

The people who surrounded Jesus while he was hanging on the cross, the religious authorities who made sure the execution was carried out, the centurions who hammered the nails and raised the cross, even the other bandits hanging on crosses next to him, all of them expected some kind of superhero God. All of them were looking for some mighty sign of God's presence in an act of power and dominion. They looked for a dynamic miracle, a flash of angels' wings, a supernatural intervention, to prove that God was present, that God could save Jesus from this very human, very tragic death. They thought, we think, that God's power only comes in dramatic flashes and epic rescues.

But this day, God's Friday, begs us to ask not that tempting question, that taunting and sneering challenge, "Where is God?" but it begs us to ask "Who is this God?" It's the question we asked in our congregation's worship on Palm Sunday - - Who is this Jesus? Who is this king who comes riding in on a humble donkey? Who is this master who washes the feet of his disciples? Who is this one who says he is this Son of God, yet he hangs on a cross? If this is Good Friday, GOD'S Friday, who is this God?

Jesus wasn't what the people expected. They expected a great and glorious king. They expected a powerful and dominating warrior. They expected someone who would stand up to evil and fight with might and force to win the battle for the chosen ones of God. But that's not w what they got.

They got a slave. They got a humble servant. They got a man who had emptied himself of the divine majesty and submitted himself to the human experience, willingly and obediently choosing every bit of the human experience, even to the point of death, even to the point of death on a cross. They got, no WE got this Jesus whom we call Christ the Lord, whose authority and love and credibility comes not from superhero antics, but from his compassion, literally from his willingness to suffer with us.

Good Friday, God's Friday, is so utterly crucial because it singularly reveals how far God is willing to go for us. It alone reveals how deep Jesus' love is for us. It on its own illumines the path which Jesus took to walk right next to us, right into our hearts and our lives, so that we would know exactly how perfectly he knows our experience. Good Friday, God's Friday reveals the heart of God. It reveals the radical humility of Jesus who goes to the depths of pain to align himself with the very humanity that betrayed him and mocked him, denied him and flogged him, crucified him and taunted him, watched it all from a distance.

He didn't jump down from the cross when obedience got difficult. He didn't call for angels to carry him away. Because God knows, really God knows, he could have. The Son of God who made the blind to see, who healed the sick, who cast our demons, who called Lazarus out of the tomb, out of death three days later, COULD have saved himself from the cross, but he didn't. He could have left this world and missed the agony of the cross altogether, but for some reason he didn't. "Nails were not enough enough to hold God-and-man nailed and fastened on the Cross, had not love held Him there," Catherine of Siena wrote.

Out of love Jesus didn't save himself. Out of love Jesus didn't abandon us. Out of love Jesus remained faithful to his call, faithful to us even to the point of death on a cross. Jesus didn't abandon us in his time of suffering which means he won't abandon us in ours. This is the promise of the cross. It is the promise that Jesus goes with us into our deepest despair. It is the promise that when we are brought to our knees in all manner of suffering the question is not are we strong enough to bear it? Because that answer is easy - - we aren't. No, the promise of the cross is that in the midst of our suffering we can ask with confidence "Who will bear this with us?"

Jesus. Jesus bears our pain with us. Jesus knows our hurts and sorrows. Jesus humbled himself to be one of us. Jesus limited his own divine power to strengthen us, emptying himself that we might have full lives. And in doing so he and the very cross on which he hung announce God's promise to us, "I know you. I love you. And I will carry you through."

Good Friday is God's Friday. It reveals to us the very heart of God who isn't above and removed from the pains and realities of this life we live, but who has joined with us right in the thick of it. Good Friday is God's Friday, and it begs us join every knee that bends and every tongue that confesses that Jesus Christ is Lord.

To the glory of God. Amen.As I was talking to my older children, who are 3 and 5 years old, about the things we do to get ready for Easter, Palm Sunday, Passion narratives, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, I ended up with a lot of explaining to do. Palm Sunday is pretty obvious from the story and tradition, but words like passion and maundy aren’t as intuitive. And then we have Good Friday. I told them we would have Good Friday worship, and they immediately got excited. “Yea! Good Friday!” Just the name got them happy and excited, but when I told them what happened on Good Friday their joy slipped away.

“Well, that’s not a good Friday,” my 3 year old said to me. And he’s right. It’s not. It's not a good day at all. Good Friday is the day that the corruption of the human spirit seems to win. Good Friday is the day when innocence is punished, when blamelessness is struck, when holiness is knocked over, to the ground, and even spat upon. Good Friday is the day when evil seemed to overshadow good and God ended up on a cross. What’s so good about Good Friday?

I’ve heard different answers, different explanations about why we call this day “good.” Most popular is the understanding that good just doesn't mean what we usually think it does. It means pious or holy. Others say that the day is good because although what happened is terrible, horrific even, it is ultimately good because of what was accomplished. Sure Jesus was beaten, tortured, mocked, and killed, but ultimately that's all good because by all of that our sinful lives were redeemed (hint of sarcasm, anyone?). Taking that understanding too far can be on the one hand dismissive of the very real experience of Jesus and on the other self-centered.

While they aren't in and of themselves bad explanations, I have never been completely satisfied with the answers I have heard, until this year. I heard a new one that helps to round the others out. It doesn't replace them, but adds to them, and at least for me, speaks a truth that is extremely relevant today. The explanation is a linguistic one, similar to the reason we use the word "maundy" for Maundy Thursday; it's an older Anglicized word that relates back to the word mandatum, commandment in Latin. The Good in Good Friday, according to this reasoning, may have come about in modern English from an older name for this holy day, "God's Friday."

God's Friday. Even this can seem a little counter-intuitive because if anything it seems like God hardly shows up on Friday. We hear that accusation in the voices of the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders, "If HE is God he could just get himself right down from that cross. If he really is the Son of God, where is God now? Where is the God he trusts so much? God sure isn't showing up for Jesus who hangs on a cross." God's Friday? But where is God?

Where is God when Jesus appears before councils and governors who accuse him out of fear? Where is God when Jesus hears the crowds shout for the release of Barrabbas and chant for his crucifixion? Where is God when Jesus is bound and marched up the hill to the place of his crucifixion? Where is God when Jesus is nailed to the cross and in his agony challenged and mocked and taunted?

Where is God when the doctor says cancer? Where is God when the boss hands over a pink slip? Where is God when a phone call comes in the middle of the night? Where is God when our children are hurting? Where is God when depression descends like a heavy fog? Where is God when the bully comes around the corner again? When the bank account is close to empty? When our faith is challenged by those who question, who mock, "Where is your God now? Why won't your God deliver?"

The people who surrounded Jesus while he was hanging on the cross, the religious authorities who made sure the execution was carried out, the centurions who hammered the nails and raised the cross, even the other bandits hanging on crosses next to him, all of them expected some kind of superhero God. All of them were looking for some mighty sign of God's presence in an act of power and dominion. They looked for a dynamic miracle, a flash of angels' wings, a supernatural intervention, to prove that God was present, that God could save Jesus from this very human, very tragic death. They thought, we think, that God's power only comes in dramatic flashes and epic rescues.

But this day, God's Friday, begs us to ask not that tempting question, that taunting and sneering challenge, "Where is God?" but it begs us to ask "Who is this God?" It's the question we asked in our congregation's worship on Palm Sunday - - Who is this Jesus? Who is this king who comes riding in on a humble donkey? Who is this master who washes the feet of his disciples? Who is this one who says he is this Son of God, yet he hangs on a cross? If this is Good Friday, GOD'S Friday, who is this God?

Jesus wasn't what the people expected. They expected a great and glorious king. They expected a powerful and dominating warrior. They expected someone who would stand up to evil and fight with might and force to win the battle for the chosen ones of God. But that's not w what they got.

They got a slave. They got a humble servant. They got a man who had emptied himself of the divine majesty and submitted himself to the human experience, willingly and obediently choosing every bit of the human experience, even to the point of death, even to the point of death on a cross. They got, no WE got this Jesus whom we call Christ the Lord, whose authority and love and credibility comes not from superhero antics, but from his compassion, literally from his willingness to suffer with us.

Good Friday, God's Friday, is so utterly crucial because it singularly reveals how far God is willing to go for us. It alone reveals how deep Jesus' love is for us. It on its own illumines the path which Jesus took to walk right next to us, right into our hearts and our lives, so that we would know exactly how perfectly he knows our experience. Good Friday, God's Friday reveals the heart of God. It reveals the radical humility of Jesus who goes to the depths of pain to align himself with the very humanity that betrayed him and mocked him, denied him and flogged him, crucified him and taunted him, watched it all from a distance.

He didn't jump down from the cross when obedience got difficult. He didn't call for angels to carry him away. Because God knows, really God knows, he could have. The Son of God who made the blind to see, who healed the sick, who cast our demons, who called Lazarus out of the tomb, out of death three days later, COULD have saved himself from the cross, but he didn't. He could have left this world and missed the agony of the cross altogether, but for some reason he didn't. "Nails were not enough enough to hold God-and-man nailed and fastened on the Cross, had not love held Him there," Catherine of Siena wrote.

Out of love Jesus didn't save himself. Out of love Jesus didn't abandon us. Out of love Jesus remained faithful to his call, faithful to us even to the point of death on a cross. Jesus didn't abandon us in his time of suffering which means he won't abandon us in ours. This is the promise of the cross. It is the promise that Jesus goes with us into our deepest despair. It is the promise that when we are brought to our knees in all manner of suffering the question is not are we strong enough to bear it? Because that answer is easy - - we aren't. No, the promise of the cross is that in the midst of our suffering we can ask with confidence "Who will bear this with us?"

Jesus. Jesus bears our pain with us. Jesus knows our hurts and sorrows. Jesus humbled himself to be one of us. Jesus limited his own divine power to strengthen us, emptying himself that we might have full lives. And in doing so he and the very cross on which he hung announce God's promise to us, "I know you. I love you. And I will carry you through."

Good Friday is God's Friday. It reveals to us the very heart of God who isn't above and removed from the pains and realities of this life we live, but who has joined with us right in the thick of it. Good Friday is God's Friday, and it begs us join every knee that bends and every tongue that confesses that Jesus Christ is Lord.

To the glory of God. Amen.

I know I can!

2011-04-21T15:18:00.004-05:00

It's my second of two rest days in the Couch to 5K program. I just finished up a re-run of week 5 (of 9). A few days ago I finally believed that I really can do this. I don't think I ever really believed it, even though I was putting a pretty nice front about it. I have only once run a mile before. And I don't mean once as in at one period in my life, or even one period in my adult life. I mean, once. Ever. I was in seminary and trying to get a little slimmer for my sister's up-coming wedding. There was a treadmill in the "workout room" upstairs from my own dorm room. I worked at it for a while, little by little, and finally ran for one mile straight. I was thrilled, ecstatic. I went down to my room and called my best friend who lived in Pennsylvania. I asked her how her days was, bursting with pride at my news, but wanting to be polite first. Before I got to share she told me hers. She had just returned from a 20 mile run. She was training for her first marathon. ((Whooosh)) Did you hear that? It was the wind rushing out of my sails. I didn't get back on the treadmill before that wedding a couple of weeks later.

So, other than that one time (I swear, even in elementary and junior high school, I walked the mile instead of running it), I had never run even just one mile straight and this program thinks it can get me to 3.1? I think it is!

This last week I decided to re-run most of Week 5 (3 runs building up to the 3rd which included 20 minutes of continuous running). I previously had to quit it after day two because my back went completely crazy. I have had sciatic nerve issues from my pregnancies, but this was insane pain and discomfort. After the 2nd day I went to the doctor who put me on some steroids and offered other pain meds. I turned the others down, and started my 6 day course of steroids. It was about 4 days before I was feeling a lot better, and I didn't bother to finish the rest of the week.

I started again with the mid-level run of the week on what was supposed to be the start of week 6. I did the 20 minute run the last two days to get me all caught up. The first one was actually easier than the second, partly I think because I was a little excited to even be trying it, partly also because I liked The Moth stories on my iPod better than my entertainment the second time, partly ALSO because I pushed my speed even harder on the second run. Anyway, the point is that when I finished the first one I suddenly felt like I could do it. I suddenly believed that I really will be running a 5K in just 4 more weeks, and I suddenly believed that I will be able to finish it, running the whole way.

It's exciting. I feel like I'm eating a whole lot of my words from years and years gone by when I talked about how horrible running must be. Here I am now, not only doing it, but maybe even enjoying it? It's crazy. It's absolutely crazy.

On the #runrevrun Twitter feed this afternoon a post titled "What's Your Motivation?" showed up. For some reason the link to the actual post isn't working, but I thought I'd do a short list to answer that question anyway:

1. Proving myself wrong - - I really can move my body.
2. Showing my daughter I'm healthy and I'm worth it.
3. Fitting into some new article of clothing that makes people say, "Wow! That looks great, but should a minister really wear something that sexy?"
4. More than anything - - eating dessert!

I'm sure the post is more thought provoking than that, but just thought I'd play a little!

Shadow Games

2011-04-19T15:10:00.006-05:00

On Sunday when we were leaving church K was walking in front of me, a little too close in front of me. She has this habit, and it's sort of cute and sort of annoying. I try to remember it's cute when I'm feeling mostly annoyed by it. It's like she wants to be independent and walk not right next to me, but at the same time there's some kind of tether that pulls her to walk right in front of me because she also doesn't want to get too far. She ends up walking right in front of me, criss-crossing across my path really just about 3/4 of a step in front of me. See the annoying part?

Well, she was doing it this Sunday as we were walking across the parking lot of the church to our car, but not only was she walking annoying closely in front of me, she was also bopping her head up and down, starting and stopping, and generally just driving me nuts with it. With the baby in my arms and trying simply not to fall over her, the cute part had definitely left a while ago.

I begged her to stop and just walk when she told me, "But we have two heads! I'm trying to hide my head in yours."

Uhh.....? Come again?

She pointed to the pavement. "We have two heads!"

Our shadows! She was looking at our shadows and trying to hide her smaller shadow inside my larger shadow so you could only see one on the pavement.

I thought of this incident immediately when I read the Easter epistle. Here are the last two verses of that lesson, Colossians 3:1-4:

"3 for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. 4 When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory."

My Good Friday sermon is going to be about our Jesus DIDN'T save himself. He didn't come down off the cross when he was tempted to. He didn't use some superhero powers to skip the hardest part of human life. He joined himself to us by going through what we go through, even to the point of death on a cross.

I think my Easter sermon will be the flip side of that Good Friday sermon. Sort of Paul's word to the Romans, but using the Colossians hiding images - "If we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his." (Romans 6:5) We hide ourselves in Christ by participating in resurrection actions, by living resurrection lives, not just forgiven and blessed and graced for ourselves, but hiding our actions in the resurrections actions of the Triune God, actions that bring death to life - - rebuilding what has been destroyed, planting what has been trampled, calling those who have been scattered back to God (Jeremiah 31:1-6).

Who is this?

2011-04-17T11:50:00.000-05:00

Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29
Matthew 21:1-11

It was just before the beginning of the festival of Passover. Travelers from all over were beginning to arrive in the city, preparing for celebrations and observances with friends and loved ones, acquaintances and strangers, all under the watchful eye of the Roman soldiers. They gathered to celebrate and remember the ancient miracle when their God, Yahweh, freed them from captivity, released them from slavery, led them out from under the smothering thumb of the oppressive Egyptians, and led them to freedom in the Promised Land. They gathered to worship their God, Yahweh, in the temple even as they lived under the threatening thumb of the oppressive Romans.

Needless to say the atmosphere was charged with excitement and even danger. More than anything it was laden with anticipation. Anticipation of the worship that would take place, anticipation of the sacrifices they would offer, anticipation of hearing the story read, chanted, sung, retold from the scrolls, from memory, from the heart with longing that this miracle of God that happened once before might one day happen again, here, now.

Jesus and the crowd that had been following him at least since Jericho, about 15 miles away, were finally just outside THIS Jerusalem. They each had their own hopes and expectations for the coming festival week and by their actions they showed what they were looking for. They showed what they wanted, what they hoped for, what they expected from this man, Jesus, who could heal the blind, who could teach with unexpected authority, who could cast out demons, sit with sinners, eat with tax collectors, and preach in ways they had never heard.

Like they were welcoming a king, they laid their cloaks on the road. Like they were heralding royalty they waved branches and put them down before his parade so that even the feet of his animals didn’t have to touch the dirty ground. They lined the streets with hope and anticipations shouting, “Hosanna! Hosanna to the Son of David! Save us! Hosanna!” They knew exactly what they were looking for, a king, a warrior, one sent by God to free them from captivity, release them from slavery, lead them out from under the smothering thumb of the oppressive Romans, and let them live unencumbered and united in their land, the Promised Land. They knew who they were looking for. They knew who they wanted this Jesus to be, a strong and mighty king, one who would lead them in overthrowing the masters, the occupiers of their nation. “Who is this?” the crowds asked, but their hearts, their actions revealed their deepest desires. This is our king, our savior.

Who is this that we come looking for? Who is this whose story we tell and retell from memory and from Scripture as we gather at the start of a festival, the Christian Passover it is sometimes called? Who is this whose entry into Jerusalem we sing about with pomp and circumstance, waving branches and celebrating with triumph and strains of “Hosanna!” in the air? Are we looking for a King? Are we looking for someone to free us from captivity, to release us from slavery, to save us from oppressive armies and rulers?

Let’s be real, probably not. Soldiers don’t stand at every street corner all around Hudson. They weren’t watching our every move as we made our way to worship this morning, ready at a moment’s notice to squash our religious and political revolution. We don’t feel the squeeze of foreign occupation threatening our freedom, threatening our lives if we dare to hold allegiance to our own king, our own God.

No, if we get real, the one we come to sing about, the one we come looking for is very, very different. Sometimes the one we come looking for is what a friend of mine calls “deity as divine concierge.” Sometimes the one we come looking for, f we are honeest, is one who will fix the things around us, give us what we need to be comfortable, smooth out the rough spots on an otherwise bumpy road. Please, Creator of Heaven and Earth, make this winter go away. Please, Dear Savior, find me the up-front parking space so I don’t waste time walking. Please, Holy Jesus, just let the day go my way.

We come looking for Jesus who will make life easier. We come looking for Jesus who will relieve our worries. We come looking for Jesus who will conquer the things that seem to be in our way, who will show us that we are right, and more importantly show the rest of the world that we are right, too. We come looking on Palm Sunday for Jesus who will meet our expectations, who will fit our mold, who will calm things down, set our lives back in order, and bless us with the easy way forward. That’s a King we whose arrival we can celebrate. That’s the Jesus we like to worship and honor and praise!

But is this the Jesus who comes riding into Jerusalem in Matthew’s gospel story? Who is this who comes riding into town not just on a donkey as we think we are used to hearing, but on a donkey AND a colt? Did you hear that when we read it this morning? The story as Matthew tells it begins almost comically. We’re used to the pictures of Jesus riding on a donkey, of course, but Matthew puts Jesus on both a donkey AND a colt.

He does it to be sure we get who he is talking about. Matthew wants to make sure his readers know exactly who this Jesus is, exactly who is coming into Jerusalem. His understanding comes from the prophet Zechariah, whose poetic prophesy said the king would come in mounted “on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” What Zechariah meant as poetic parallelism, Matthew took literally so that no one would misunderstand that THIS Jesus, this man, is the one Zechariah was talking about. THIS Jesus, this man, is the Zechariah’s king who had arrived in Jerusalem.

But a king? Arriving on a donkey? What about the regal horses pulling gilded chariots? What about the legions of soldiers, the entourage of servants and advisors? Where were all the signs of a king, a REAL king, who can make a difference, who can deliver what we expect, who can make this life turn out the way want? If this is a king, he certainly doesn’t look like a very helpful king. Riding in on a humble donkey, or two, instead of a strong and powerful horse, accompanied by a bunch of fishermen and others he had picked up along the way from the countryside instead of a trained soldiers in armor with weapons, stirring up the on-lookers who came hoping for salvation, REAL salvation, from REAL oppressors. “Hosanna to the Son of David!” “O save us, Son of David!” They shout the words of a psalm of their faith, a song of thanksgiving for victory and deliverance. They expect that the one who has come to the city is the one who can give them victory and deliverance from the suffering and separation they face.

All of this proclamation and acclamation causes fervor among the crowds. Matthew tells us that it isn’t just the crowds of pilgrims who are stirred up by this procession, but actually, the whole city was in turmoil over Jesus’ entry into the city. Turmoil - - a word reserved for earthquakes and tsunamis. A word that describes the aftermath of seismic destruction, but turmoil isn’t how we usually picture it. A city buzzing with excitement is what we want to be a part of. A city celebrating and cheering, worshiping the triumphant arrival of a king is where we want to go, where we want to imagine ourselves on Palm Sunday.

Yet turmoil is how it is described. Exuberance is what they expected; fanfare and festivities is what we hope for, but turmoil is what we get. Turmoil is what comes when the expectations of the people don’t quite match up with the reality of God. Turmoil is what comes when the divine concierge, the parking space saving, fast line moving, green light extending “savior” fails to show up and instead we are faced with Jesus in Holy Week – Jesus who turns over the tables of unjust money changers, Jesus who sits down at the holy table with those who will betray him and deny him, Jesus who refuses to argue the charges against him, Jesus who is mocked, stripped, and beaten unjustly, Jesus who is humbled and humiliated by death on a cross.

Turmoil is what we get when Jesus isn’t what we expected, but is exactly what we need. Tumoil is what we find when we intend to stand beside our God and King, but find that harder and harder when he doesn’t act like the King we want him to be. Turmoil is what we experience when we want to shout with joy and confidence “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” but instead we are silenced by the way our Lord chooses to come, humble, meek, and in peace. Turmoil is what we feel when reality sets in and our expectations don’t match up with the savior we receive.

What then? Who is this that comes in the name of the Lord? Who is this that is called Jesus, the prophet, Lord, and king? How will we receive him, the one who comes to us and for us even then, even in the midst of our turmoil, with grace and mercy, new life and salvation?

Hosanna to the Son of David! Save us! Hosanna in the highest heaven!

I found the artwork at this website, but have no other clue what credit to give!

Palm v. Passion 2011

2011-04-11T16:33:00.003-05:00

Someone please, PLEASE remind me that I need to take a vacation between Christmas and Easter. I even had last Sunday off from preaching, and I still feel too drained to face Holy Week. I don't feel like my treatment of Lent was really leading us anywhere logical which is interesting to me. I didn't really do a comprehensive, thematic Lent which is part of the reason. I also don't feel like I brought us anywhere together. My preaching was a little more to individuals than to the church, which is how I usually preach. That just makes it feel different to me. I don't know if I can articulate why.

I think I'm going to make a little break with the way I was trained in seminary with this Palm/Passion Sunday and go a little old school. They really pushed us to make sure we did the Palms and Passion the week before Easter to make sure our congregations weren't all triumphalistic. I remember being told that not many people will come to other Holy Week services so we better get the cross part of the story told when they were all there. I've gone along with that and probably for the most part it's at least somewhat true.

However, do we not also give people a reason to miss all those Holy Week services if we cover it all on one Palm/Passion Sunday? Do we have to be so pessimistic to assume they don't care? Could there also be a little bit of arrogance in the assumption that if they aren't doing it our way they don't understand the power and the importance of the cross?

Anyway, I think this year I'm going with Palm Sunday alone. My last Palm Sunday sermon really stunk (2009), so I think I'm ready to try it again. I will certainly allude to what is coming, but I'm not going to feel obligated to do all of Holy Week in one Sunday service.

So, with Matthew's version of Jesus entering into Jerusalem right now I'm chewing on the phrase "The Lord needs them." What does the Lord need? I don't think of the Lord NEEDING much, but the Lord needs things. It stuck out at me.

Also, there's the question "Who is this?" The people say a prophet, but throughout the passage Jesus is identified as "the Lord" (referring to himself), "the king" (by the reference of the quoted prophet v.5), and the "Son of David."

Not sure what any of this will amount to, but I'm still thinking.

Out of the mouths of babes

2011-04-09T15:44:00.002-05:00

On a whim, I asked the kids this morning, Why do we do communion?

W, "'Cause it's how God loves us."
K, "it shows us the new covenant in Jesus' blood."

Then after I picked my jaw up off the floor K asked, "What does covenant mean?"

I told her it was God's promise and said maybe I'd say it that way next time so people would understand. She said, "No that's not how you always say it, and you should say it the way you always do. Now I know what you mean, though."

This is why I don't care one bit if kids "understand" communion by any of our standards before they start receiving it. They get it so much more than we can ever really teach them anyway.

This time it's for me

2011-04-07T11:20:00.002-05:00

I have never been accused of being in shape. Exercise has never been my thing. I'm not very good at sports. I'm competitive, but as it has been said if you can't be an athlete, be an athletic supporter. I have always been perfectly happy cheering on others in any number of sports.

So here I am, 34 years old, picking up a pair of running shoes for the first time in my life. I have been through other exercise phases, and this current burst of energy can probably be considered part of a longer one that has been on-going for about 18 months in varying degrees of intensity. Earlier phases were deemed "successful" when I reached some date, some event toward which I was working -- my sister's wedding in 2000, my own wedding in 2003, losing the baby weight from #1 before getting pregnant with #2, losing the baby weight from #2 before getting pregnant with #3. The big difference about this current exercise phase is that I have no end date, no wedding (mine or another's), no more babies. So why am I doing it this time?

This time it's for me. It's not to fit into a bridesmaid's or wedding dress. (Although, I won't mind fitting into way cuter and sexier clothes than I have before!) It's not to get ready to carry another child for 9 months. (Although, I do feel like i never stop carrying them one way or another.) This time it's for me. It's for making me into the best and healthiest me I can be. In that way, I have also thought about this time being for God. This time it is about my calling - my calling as a disciple, as a mother, as a wife, and as a pastor. I am terrified of the state of physical health in the church and particularly in ordained ministers. I am terrified when I go to denominational gatherings and count myself among a large number of wonderful people who feel we don't have time to take care of ourselves. I want to get myself in the best shape I can to fulfill my call into all these roles. I want to be healthy and energized and awake to grow in my relationship with Christ. I want to be a role model to my children, showing them that taking care of my body and my health is important. I want to love myself so that I can love my husband. I want to demonstrate to my congregation that bodies matter, not because we can or should make them perfect, but because God created them, and if we're going to talk about taking care of creation, we need to talk about taking care of our bodies, too.

So, here I am, 34 years old, picking up a pair of running shoes for the first time in my life. Running has never been my first choice for exercise, but it's the one I have to choose for now. There's no class schedule to negotiate around child care. There's no bike to buy. There's no swimming suit to don in public. It's just my shoes, my iPod, and me. Five weeks ago I started the Couch to 5K program using the Get Running application on my iPad, running/walking on the treadmill at the Y in this late winter/early spring. Yesterday I took myself outside for my first ever run on "real ground." I can say that I actually enjoyed it. I enjoyed the first BEAUTIFUL day we have had here. I enjoyed the wind and the sun. I enjoyed the ice floating on the mostly melted river. I enjoyed the sensation of my body doing something it has never been able to do before. I enjoyed the physicality of growing in strength and nurturing my calls from God.