1st Advent Change

There's a change in the season
There's a change in the breeze
And the sun plays in shadows
That were longer days before.
There's a change in the air
There's a move by the Spirit
And I wonder, is there a change in me?

There’s a change in the order
There’s a change in the sky
And a star shines brighter
Than has ever shone before
There’s a change in the air
There’s a move in the Spirit
And I wonder – Is there a change in me?

There's a change in the lessons
There's a change in their tone
And the answers seem different
Than the ones we knew before
There's a change in the air
There's a move by the Spirit
And I wonder, is there a change in me?

There’s a change in the balance
There’s a change in the rules
As the least are the stronger
By the power of their love
There’s a change in the air
There’s a move in the Spirit
And I wonder – Is there a change in me?

There’s a change in the table
There’s a change in the meal
And the things that sustain us
fill a different kind of need
There’s a change in the air
There’s a move in the Spirit
And I wonder – Is there a change in me?

Weight of Dreams

My hand landed on a dog’s head and I naturally started petting it. That’s what you do when the dog’s head is right below your fingertips like Olaf, my sister’s mini-horse-sized dog whose head is always at perfect hand height. The head at my fingertips was enough to stir my sleep and evoked the natural response; obviously this must be Olaf since our dogs aren’t tall enough to reach bed level. I continued to stroke his head as a reward for not barking at the other dogs that were gathering to try and get out of the rain. But then I started to wake up a little more gradually trying to piece together how the extra dogs got into our yard, and even how Olaf was at our house. I woke up to find there were no extra dogs from neighbor’s yards, not even Olaf.

I don’t remember dreams that often, but this vivid dream added the sensory element of touch. Logic longs to take its rightful ownership of the brain, and the element of sense brings me back to what’s real. However, it was enough of a struggle that now I was wide awake and it was only 12:30am; a long time before the alarm. I checked e-mail, and wrote back to my niece that I was indeed awake and saw no way that this dream and early hour privacy could even have the consolation of spurring Positively Indecisive. Then I checked in on the blog “Real Life Preacher” whose post read “God Love the Dreamers.” I needed no spurring to read on. I can’t elevate my dream to a stature of importance, but the greater value is considering the weight of dreams.

The book, “God, Dreams and Revelation” questions what has happened to dreams in our modern world that we remember played key roles in the scriptures. Gordon Atkinson (Real Life Preacher) recognizes that our night-time dreams are too difficult to understand and our day-time dreams are too difficult to follow. He was inspired by another post of a young woman dreaming of moving to Uganda and opening homes for children, but not without mingled doubts and fears.

Oh how could He have made me for this? How could something so crazy be accepted by so many hearts? Would people tell me if they really thought my dream was un-attainable? I really can’t do this. It is impossible in every way. I need people to surround me and hold my hands up when they begin to tremble. I need people to speak destiny over my lack. I need people who will begin to pray before my lips form the request. I need hearts that will be strong when mine is breaking. I need people to share this dream with other dreamers. I need Him to break into hearts and catch them alight with His vision. I need Him to replace our eyes with His. I cannot do this as an island. http://handsbuiltformercy.wordpress.com/2009/10/12/703/

My prayer for the congregation?

Holy God, You are wondrously made. In the wonder of our dreams we may delve into a world where we step out of routine into atypical situations. In the wonder of Your dreams, logic is restrained and the uncommon is plausible. Help us to readily dream with You: for others, for growth, for spurring to action. Help us encourage Gabi and others who dream to live in your world where children laugh, the poor are fed, and the unloved find a place out of the rain.

Discovery of Promise

“Following the light of the sun, we left the Old World”
– Christopher Columbus

Even though in the south we don’t have the same regard for Columbus Day as in the northeast with their parades, speeches, and festivities, we still know the story of Christopher Columbus and the poem that made remembering this date for a history test a sure thing.

In fourteen hundred ninety-two
Columbus sailed the ocean blue.
He had three ships and left from Spain;
He sailed through sunshine, wind and rain.
He sailed by night; he sailed by day;
He used the stars to find his way.
A compass also helped him know
How to find the way to go.

In some ways, it is similar to the story of Abram’s spirited venture into an unknown land to greet the adventure of a promised land. Going forth without a promise of what the land would look like, a promise of an easy life, nor a promise of timeliness, but still following a promise with purpose and intention. It’s always been a testament of vision and courage at any age.

If we are called to discover our promised purpose, what could that mean to leave the Old World of comfort and beliefs and be bold enough to risk falling off the edge of that flat world for a multi-dimensional life of promise? The question, “If money was no object, if talent was no qualifier, if time was no inhibitor, what could you envision to help grow the glory of God?” may help decide a direction towards your promise. Maybe it means learning a new skill, trying a new approach, or forfeiting a fear. Maybe it means reconsidering what it means to be born in the image of God, not as a gender or a shape, but as a possibility of greatness.

What could one discover if freed from conventional ideas about planning and living and were bold enough to leave without knowing a final destination? Discover what it means to find your voice, gifts, and purposes. You aren’t alone. You have tools to direct: scripture, prayer, community and God’s promise to you. If you follow the light of the Son, a New World awaits.

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, You promise us worlds of potential yet we remain steadfast and inert. We are restless to discover new ideas, new lands, and new people but are contented to remain in our normal routines. Stir us to feelings of impatience and discontent towards our immobility and to seek a remedy by moving closer to You. Let us discover new ways to see, new ways to act and new ways to believe. Our old world offers a launch site; the new world offers new life. Let us sail with the winds of purpose and the stars of hope. You are there to guide and welcome. Amen

Here Comes the Story

Here comes the story of the Hurricane
The man the authorities came to blame
For something that he never done
Put in a prison cell but one time
He coulda been the Champion of the World...
- Bob Dylan

“The Hurricane” stars Denzel Washington and tells the story of Rubin “Hurricane” Carter. He was a successful boxer who was tried for a triple-murder, some conjecture he was charged by racial instigation, and for awhile he was well represented by movie stars, song writers, and activists hoping to bring his case to public notice. His lawyers found that people come with good intentions, but leave before the slow rhythm of justice gives a response. A parallel story grows while Carter is in prison, using the time to write a book, improve his mind, and review his case. An illiterate teenage boy from Brooklyn chooses Carter’s book as his first book to read by himself. His friends who are teaching him to read share a secret about books: “Sometimes we choose the books we read, and sometimes they choose us.” The two begin a friendship through letters, it develops through face-to-face meetings, and ultimately changes lives as the boy and his mentors move closer to the prison and tell Carter that they won’t leave town until Carter can leave with them. Carter finds it hard to trust and hope in another set of supporters, but their constant reassurance allows Carter to bring down his barrier and open his willingness to believe in freedom. “Hate put me in prison. Love’s gonna bust me out!”

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, You supply a constant stream of reassurance, support and hope. You do not leave us alone to fight battles on our own, but use your intervention to provide allies, interpreters, and mentors to help us overcome our imprisonment of insecurity, fear and distrust. As we open our Bibles, let scriptures find their way to chose us, to shore up our weaknesses, and to release us through words of wisdom, strength and love. Let us be aware of unlikely co-journeyers with whom we grow and learn together. Let our connected stories be shared and celebrated to give glory to the Author of life, requiring us to put down our own pen and allow trust in another. Amen

“A story is where the heart surprises the head.” Abraham Heschel

No Secret

I can try and blame it on being a child of the 60s, but so was my husband and he doesn’t have the same enthusiasm for musicals as I do. “West Side Story,” “Fiddler on the Roof,” “Oklahoma,” “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers” are a few favorites, but there’s another one with just as many good songs but which hasn’t made it to as many community productions as the others. “Calamity Jane” was nominated for best music or scoring of a musical picture and Doris Day singing “Secret Love” won the Oscar for Original Song in 1954. It’s not a historical portrayal of Calamity Jane but rather an inventive and comical portrayal of a rough frontierswoman who gets a soft spot for a Lieutenant. This is contrary to the image the town has of her. She wins sharp shooting contests, runs with the posses, “bellies up to the bar” and dresses just like any other man in town. Calamity is pretty proud and protective of her reputation as being equal to resolving any challenge a man could handle, so when that tough skin is peeled away and she admits that she loves Lieutenant Dan, she is exposed and vulnerable, but at the same time relieved and renewed. She puts on a dress, ties a ribbon in her hair, and goes to confess her love before the world, at least the world of the flowers and the trees. But it’s her first step into claiming and saying the words that until that point had been silent. The music swells and she thrusts out her chest in sheer joy that can’t be restricted any longer singing; “Now I shout it from the highest hills!” It’s a song that comes to mind when I’m bursting with excitement or filled with happiness. I can be rather guarded with my thoughts but every once in awhile Doris and I take off our chaps and sing a duet to let the daffodils in on our secret. It was a good weekend for singing!

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, You are our confidant and supporter. You know our deepest fears and greatest loves and help us face them and expose them. When we can put a name to our feelings it helps us take steps toward resolution and action. Help us to overcome the fears that impede our growth and encourage us to build the relationships that strengthen our talents and love which help us come closer to the fulfillment of the lives you have dreamed we can achieve. We have witnessed examples of Grace’s unpredictable triumph. This cannot be kept a secret! In renewed confidence, let us claim, name, and un-tame God’s abiding Love that is greater than our dreams. Amen

Once I had a secret love
That lived within the heart of me
All too soon my secret love
Became impatient to be free

So I told a friendly star
The way that dreamers often do
Just how wonderful you are
And why I am so in love with you

Now I shout it from the highest hills
Even told the golden daffodils
At last my heart’s an open door
And my secret love’s no secret anymore

Single Trick

I intentionally kept a low profile today although there is plenty that needed to be done, as always. There were plenty of different movies on cable that made it easier to let hours lapse into the evening: one I probably won’t ever watch again, “Love in the Time of Cholera”; one that is good every few years, “Tortilla Soup”; and one that never grows tiresome, “To Kill a Mockingbird.” I don’t know if the movie made such an impact on me because I could relate to the narrator of the story who was a young girl like me, or simply because it was a well-made film. There are so many memorable scenes, some for their humor, some for their suspense, and some for their message of fairness beside injustice, of respect over contempt, of redemption triumphing prejudice. The movie shows a town that lived with a lot of preconceived ideas about race, indigence and others who lived outside the norm. What started as a summer fascination and desire for adventure evolved into changed lives full of respect and appreciation. It helped having a father like Atticus Finch who was a pillar of moral conviction, who taught his children that sometimes the right thing to do was not the easiest as he took his values into action. He was a model of open-mindedness, generosity and a defender for justice and the over looked. He hoped that his children trusted him enough to come to him with questions instead of listening to the town. Reading summaries of the movies, the main focus is the trial, but one of my favorite moments is at the end when Scout sees Boo Radley for himself.

“If you just learn a single trick, Scout, you'll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks. You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it” - Atticus Finch

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, You provide moral certitude. Your law answers our ethical questions and your love simplifies our dilemmas. You long to help us reach the choice of justice and compassion, but we can be pulled by stubbornness, ignorance, greed or fear. Let us be anchored by righteousness and lifted by courage. Let us remember the innocent and ignored who need our bravery and kindness to help them rise to recognition and legitimacy in a world of status and ranking. In your eyes all belong to one family and are your beloved children. Help us to see our neighbors as you see them, accept them, and care for them as our brother. Amen

“Mockingbirds just sing their hearts out for us.” - Atticus Finch

Fact or Fiction

With all of the coverage about swine flu in the media, this is not the best time to get a sore throat. What are the chances it could really be the flu? Should I go to work? Should I cook dinner for the family? (Best to be safe and bring food home because we know everyone working at the restaurant is healthy…) As I first noticed the tenderness in swallowing, I couldn’t help but wonder if the flu strain that I had labeled as another “sky is falling” campaign was staking a foothold in my own house. Sure enough #1 son was not feeling well and started coughing. Reports of the first death linked to the swine flu, albeit hundreds of miles away in southern Texas, was aired on the morning news. Even though a flu diagnosis was suspect, the idea couldn’t help but creep into the realm of possibilities. I remembered I had seen a chart that helped distinguish the differences between a common cold and the flu. My symptoms? I had a sore throat, coughing, but no fever.


From the checklist I feel confident I either have a simple cold or a sinus flare-up. Wouldn’t it be helpful if we had a similar checklist to help weigh other conflicting claims? Could it help distinguish the real prophets from the actors, the revelations from the interpretations, or the wisdom of the reformers from the agenda of the revisionists? In the meantime, wash your hands frequently and be alert.

My prayer for the congregation?

Wise and True God, You have no difficulty in discerning myth from fact, hype from reality or chosen leaders from eager substitutes. Point us towards these truths that you separate so easily as a litmus test. Help us discriminate using the tool of righteousness so that we may hone our decisions and gain confidence in our judgment when placed between conflicting choices. Place in our lives the truthful course of direction and give us wisdom and patience to rely on prayerful judiciousness instead of rash impulsiveness in reaction to claims of accurateness. You name your prophets, reveal your glory and seek reform in an imperfect world. Let us be receptive to your voice. Amen.

Cleaning House

It’s hard to remember all the diversions. I know it had something to do with three major weeks converging at once, several volunteer banquets added for good measure, and hosting a party at our house – something that is only said together sparingly.

Unfortunately in our marriage, I’m the Oscar Madison character and cleanliness is dimming the lights and filling boxes with papers from my desk, that will one day be revealed, why they were important enough to print out. It took strategy to pace the schedule; dusting too soon would result in the need for a second dusting, mopping too late would result in slipping guests. I also realized I could clean the surface, but as soon as someone opened the refrigerator my façade would be broken. So out came the drawers in the refrigerator (who knew they were so easy to clean?). Down came the outdated phone books and wrinkled wrapping paper from the hall closet. Off came the clutter of unattended mail and catalogs. I’m starting to like the place! I actually do like clean, open lines and spaces but seem to have missing synapses on how to keep it that way. Hosting a gathering once or twice a year certainly does help provide the connection for a little while.

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, You know us through and through. You know our limits and our faults, but you also know our abilities and our talents. Please nurture our capacity to fulfill our potential and diminish our flawed actions and choices. Help us make more than surface statements of remorse and transformation, and allow the deep confession of our souls come before you and others. You keep the relationship open and available; we are the ones who complicate the bond. Let our lives be free of the clutter that detracts our focus on righteousness. Amen.

Thunder Blunder

“Thunder is good, thunder is impressive; but it is lightning that does the work.” -Mark Twain

My prayer for the congregation?

Almighty God, the expanse of nature is at your fingertips. From the distant roll of thunder to the closer, boisterous reaction of shaking windows, we are alerted to an oncoming storm. We remember old tales used to ease our apprehension, yet even though we are calmed, gasps of surprise may still escape our lips. But while the thunder is boisterous it is the precision strike of lightning that leaves its mark on the earth. Let us be wise with our words, and not be heard as a roll of angry postulations or prideful boasts. Let our way be strikingly clear and may the mark of our pure actions led a pathway back to you. Amen

Wait! Wait!

I think I’ve found a solution to my proclivity for procrastination. And there’s no better time. Just last week I couldn’t seem to find the time to share mid-year evaluations at work, which is actually a breeze compared to the end of the year evaluations when extra forms and written submissions are required. I knew about the evaluations before I even left to go to Colorado, but I was busily trying to close open items I had on my desk so that no one else would have to come behind and try to master my computer filing system. Returning from vacation can be equally unstable, so how could that be the right time for something as focused as evaluations? What’s so sad is that we have great people, which is undeniably an incredible blessing! The sad part is that I shouldn’t get so anxious, hesitant, and full of dread. Usually my justification to procrastinate is that the reviews will take away from the time I need, and my co-workers need, in production for our customers and deadlines they require. Part of my delay may be that I dislike being in a judgment position. “When you point a finger at someone else, you are pointing three at yourself.” Sometimes in our reviews I’m the one who comes up short. It comes back that I haven't followed up on my end: trying to find more ways to share information, trying to work within the system to get some needed repairs completed, trying to improve consistency in our shared work projects, and trying to let people know how much they are appreciated. My solution to procrastination? I will perendinate! Who gives reviews on a Monday??

From Latin perendinare (to defer until the day after tomorrow), from perendie (on the day after tomorrow), from dies (day). The word procrastinate is from Latin cras (tomorrow). So when you procrastinate, literally speaking, you are putting something off till tomorrow.
Mark Twain once said, "Never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow." In other words, why procrastinate when you can perendinate? (A.Word.A.Day – wordsmith.org)

My prayer for the congregation?

Gracious God, You are strong, just and sure. We long to share a bit of your merit and we turn to you when our own character falls short hoping that we can find the impetus to change our habits within your word, examples, and by your intervention. Help us in our weakness to put off hard and inconvenient deeds. Remind us that there are no excuses for delaying those actions which you have commanded, to love our neighbor, to help the poor, to do what is just, and to share the good news. Help us to review our own actions when we are quick to judge others. How can we further their work? How can we help them become the person You created? How can we help them to know You? How can I live as a Christ follower? Help us to spend more time responding to your commands then creating excuses and delays. We find our strength in You. Amen.

Looking High

Some of my favorite places to visit are college campuses. I don’t know if it’s the aura of possibilities, the atmosphere of learning, or the presence of commitment by those who choose to be there, rather than mandatory attendance, and maybe it’s a combination of those things and more that cause a level of energy that is tangible to the senses. The campus we visited today is one that I had attended. When our son asked me what drew me to the school, instead of saying it specialized in the academic field I intended to study, or because of its history for securing placement in jobs, or because of scholarships received I had to tell him it was because coming back from a rafting trip I saw this campus that stood grandly on the hill and it looked so cool. At night the campus is lit to show off their unique structures and you are drawn to know more about it as you drive by on Interstate 35. During the orientation today they were proud to point out that the largest structure on campus is not the football field, as the university 30 miles north would boast, but rather their library. Probably a better vein of rationalization to include, but as we entered the highway to return home, I couldn’t help but look over and still admire the way the little city looked on the hill.

My prayer for the congregation?

O God of Wisdom, there is nothing that is beyond your understanding. We cannot always explain why we do the things we do, lost in a web of irrational desires and impulses, but you are intentional and wise. Let us turn to you for direction, open your word for inspiration, and stand as a beacon on a hill to draw attention to your course. Let our congregation be literally a buzz with an energy of excitement and commitment as we choose to follow you in a manner that is infectious and challenging. Amen.

"Here's another way to put it: You're here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We're going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don't think I'm going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I'm putting you on a light stand. Now that I've put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.”
Matthew 5:14-16 (The Message)

Friday's Here

Perhaps it’s the “coming down from the mountain” letdown, or perhaps it’s an offset to an “over commitment” of time, or perhaps it’s hoping to take advantage of typical beautiful spring weather, but for some reason churches experience an especially low attendance on the Sunday after Easter. It’s not just our church, but a noticeable trend through all denominations. I could be included so easily as a statistic. I’m leaving with #1 son tonight to so that we can tour a college campus in San Marcos tomorrow. Who wouldn’t want to spend extra time in the hill country of Texas in the spring? And it’s as much economic pulls that are bringing us back after one night as the call to commitments on Sunday. Last Sunday, Anne told of a service that Tony Campolo helped lead worship and after he finished with what he considered one of his finest sermons, the pastor said as much. But then the pastor said he would show Tony how it’s really done, almost like a street poetry slam. Tony was anxious to hear the response. The pastor got up and for over an hour used the same tag line with increasing power and conviction: “Friday’s here, but Sunday’s a comin!” By the end the congregation was worked into frenzy in anticipation of Sunday morning.

My prayer for the congregation?

Gracious God, You are the one whom we worship and adore. Let us return, over and over to you, not just on special occasions, or time of need, for “Friday’s here, but Sunday’s a comin!” Replenish our souls after weeks of concentrated study and contemplation, for “Friday’s here, but Sunday’s a comin!” Let Easter be an appetizer of things to expect throughout the year and not the finale of a high holy day. We can make each day holy by looking for miracles and sacrifices. Yes, “Friday’s here, but Sunday is a comin!” Let us be called to worship! Amen.

Swan Song

I never was a huge fan of “The Gong Show.” I think it’s a guy thing, like “The Three Stooges,” all a little too over the top for my tastes, and as the wiry gray-headed woman walked on the stage, it had all the makings of one of their trademark ridiculous acts set up of for the benefit of entertaining the audience like a court jester. The crowd shots showed people whispering to each other in anticipation of a simpleton prepared to sacrifice their honor for a few moments of TV fame. The judges began grinning, knowing that they were being put on the spot to evaluate an obviously hopeless candidate for the sake of TV ratings. She came out grinning as if she wasn’t going to be able to hold in the joke long enough to carry it out. She was middle-aged, a little plump, and dressed as a country girl coming to town in her best dress. It was hard to tell if she was genuine or playing a stereotype to an exaggerated extent. There was good-natured banter as the judges asked her questions, again believing that it was only a matter of time before the gig was revealed and the outlandish act would begin. They probably wished this was the Gong Show so that they could mercifully end the performance early.

"Why hasn't your dream worked out before now?" - Simon Cowell
"I've never been given the chance before, but here's hoping it will change!" - Susan Boyle

The judges sat back, responsive to her warmth, but still preparing for the onslaught of their senses. Susan Boyle opened her mouth and let out the first pure notes of “I Dreamed A Dream.” The judges’ mouths dropped in utter surprise. Mid-way through the song, the audience was standing in appreciation of her performance. The judges looked at each other in joyous disbelief, not because they had found a new star to promote, but because it was a splendid moment of beauty, emotion, and transformation, not just in Susan, but in how others saw her anew.

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, You see the beauty in your creations and love each as attentively as if that one was your sole commitment. Help us to find the same beauty that you see within each one, setting aside our assumptions and conjectures. We want a benefit of doubt given to us on first impressions, knowing people critique others using simple or complicated overviews of clothes, shoes, hair color, weight, race, and even toe nail color. Let us look into the eyes of our brother or sister, seeing the Christ living within, and giving them a chance to live their dreams, both God and our neighbor. Amen

Easter Water

Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old.
I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth,
do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.
The wild animals will honor me, the jackals and the ostriches;
For I give water in the wilderness, rivers in the desert,
To give drink to my chosen people,
the people whom I formed for myself,
So that they might declare my praise. (Isaiah 43:18-21)

It’s a strange promise God makes, when you think about it. God doesn’t promise to subdue the wilderness; only to make a way through it. God doesn’t promise to take away the desert, or take you out of it, only to find some water in it…. The only promise is to make a way and to find the water, so that even the wild animals and partners and ordinary people will stop and see the new thing, and honor God.

I think that is the promise for us, for all of us. God will do a new thing. No matter how wonderful things seem to us today, God will do a new thing. No matter how tired we may be tomorrow, God will do a new thing. No matter how mundane the routine, or sleepless the night, or painful the argument, God will do a new thing. And it isn’t clear what that will be; there is no promise to fix or mend or put more hours in the day. There is only the promise to make a way in the wilderness, a river in the desert—if we will look for it. “I am about to do a new thing,” says God.
Anna Carter Florence – on 30 Good Minutes

---------------

This was the passage we studied in our class on Easter Sunday, and as often happens, timely. At the end of our first service we had to call an ambulance to assist with a member who had fallen; later x-rays proved the hip was broken. I thought it was going to be hard enough to return to work after a week of vacation, but instead of slowly reacquainting myself to the office was quickly thrust into the world of rearranging priorities. In our small department of seven people, one was with a spouse at MD Anderson for cancer treatment, one was with a spouse in the emergency room for critical care, and our dear secretary became a widow, again, Sunday night.

“God doesn’t promise to take away the desert, or take you out of it,
only to find some water in it.”

Even living in the glory of Easter Sunday doesn’t separate us from the desert we sometimes journey, but gloriously we are provided water: friends on whom we can rely, words of encouragement, hands of healing, prayers of support, and experiences that bring a better understanding of God’s hand in our lives. This is still the continuing story of Easter.

My prayer for the congregation?

Sustaining God, You are our comfort, our guide, our strength. We turn our eyes and hearts toward You in times of need and in times of praise. Let us not separate the two but praise you as we seek your aide. Help us to provide water for those pilgrims in the desert. Keep our eyes aware of their plight, our hearts receptive to their needs, and our hands ready in response. Amen.

Easter is Here... and There

It struck me so odd, although rationally I should know it, but it’s so easy to think that the rest of the world lives just like I do. The Good Friday meditation started by describing the fall weather... you see my problem. Fall weather? Good Friday? Not correct. Even across the Atlantic, on Good Friday, it’s spring; Asia, it’s spring; Middle East, it's spring. Easter IS spring with new growth, fresh beginnings, and hope confirmed.

The problem was not with the facts, it was with my perception. I’ve been lucky enough to travel and I try to have global awareness, but it never occurred to me that Easter could be anything else but the way I’ve known. Of course the author lived in the southern hemisphere where seasons are reversed from ours. I could see where they might have the advantage for the dark moments of the Lenten journey, as leaves are falling and nights grow shorter, but how does Easter morning translate to their lives? They joyfully celebrate the Risen Christ who offered atonement for their lives as well as ours. "Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed!"

The Southern Hemisphere has constellations, like the Southern Cross, that we will never see unless we travel below the equator. If we have such a hard time perceiving beyond our limited horizons, how can we expect to fathom what God can do?

My prayer for the congregation?

“My prayer for you, is that you will rise each morning and say to yourself and those you love, ‘Today, God is about to do a new thing.’ And then, I hope you will go out and look for it.”
-Anna Carter Florence

Counter Talk

We would all agree that evil is to be rejected and overcome; the only question is, how? How can we stand against evil without becoming a mirror—but denied—image of the same? That is often the heart of the matter, and in my experience is resolved successfully by a very small portion of people, even though it is quite clearly resolved in the life, death and teaching of Jesus.
[Jesus gives us] a totally different way of dealing with evil—absorbing it in God (which is the real meaning of the suffering body of Jesus) instead of attacking it outside. It is undoubtedly the most counterintuitive theme of the entire Bible.
– Richard Rohr

Sometimes ideas have to simmer, especially when truth whispers of insights that don’t necessarily follow society’s norms. Whispers can have an advantage over emphatic ideas because otherwise they have an especially hard time being heard over barriers of “supposed to” and “should be.” Counterintuitive ideas have to be allowed to rest and rise. On Holy Saturday, we are called to wait and keep vigil. In our Easter world, it is quite illogical to be still when so many preparations are needed for the day we know is fast approaching. And what logical mind would recommend that one deals with evil by allowing God to absorb it? What was Rohr thinking? Interestingly, a completely different tradition offers similar advice. Aikido is a martial art, but one whose aim is peace not fighting. This is a healing art that embraces conflict. Its intention is not to conquer and overcome, but to prevail without perpetuating the cycle of violence. A healing art that embraces conflict? Don’t strike back at evil on the outside? Absorb and transform?
“Be powerful without strength; then grow in potential.”
It’s no wonder these are whispers of tension, if they were blurted out in public, what would people think?

My prayer for the congregation?

Gracious God, allow our hearts and minds to be transformed during this time of rest and vigil. On a day when everything has been said, desperate actions taken, and with a realization of our consequences, we wait and come to realize that left to our own devices, we are ruined. If we know that the status quo has not brought us redemption, then this could be a perfect day, as we wait, to consider new manners and listen to the quieter counterintuitive voices. There is tension in the air. We can embrace it, absorb it and use it. Let our strength rise in character, will, devotion and compassion. Amen.

Stationed in Kairos

I had the opportunity to walk the Stations of the Cross for the first time on this Good Friday. From the earliest of times pilgrims have wanted to walk where Jesus walked to help connect more closely to the Passion. As it became more difficult to travel to Jerusalem, the walk was recreated as shrines using artwork and liturgy throughout Europe in the 1500’s and eventually spread worldwide. There are fourteen “stations” that depict different scenes along the route starting with Jesus being condemned to die and progressing until the last scene of Jesus being laid in the tomb. Today we physically walked as a united band of pilgrims within the sanctuary of the Episcopal Church. At each plaque there was a reading offered and a prayer followed by a simple song as we journeyed to the next scene. Often I was a bit distracted considering how this same experience could be transposed to our own congregation. This is just the sort of thing I can spend hours investigating on the web as I initially did trying to find churches that offered Good Friday services. I thought it was a bit odd that all of the Catholic churches began their Stations of the Cross promptly at 3pm. My fellow learned pilgrim was sure the reason had something to do with the time of Jesus’ death. According to the Gospel of Mark, Jesus was crucified at 9am, darkness fell at noon, and at 3pm he died. Ouch, my head is starting to hurt again. Wasn’t this just what our Associate Pastor shared during last night’s service? Chronos vs. Kairos. Clock-time vs. Soul-Time. There are churches that will hold vigil through Saturday midnight for Easter’s first light. Yes, we’re quite proud of our ability to transform unwieldy mystery into neat hospital-bed folds of facts and explanations with our planning and interpretation. Why we’re even able to parse down the text into Twitter feed as a Good Friday practice. Perhaps soon enough we’ll be able to jump to the end of the story and bypass Good Friday all together.

My prayer for the congregation?

Ah, Holy Jesus, Who brought this upon You? We dare to walk in the roads you traveled; we dare to sing of Your lonesome walk; we dare to sit in draped chapels, but do we dare to drink Your cup? Help us to find ways to harness the majestic story into words and images that we can readily understand, but not be so bold as to think we could author such a royal narrative. It is a delicate balance of accusation, sorrow, dismay, disbelief, grief, promise and hope. We anticipate Your joyful victory but must first spend time examining the slow, deliberate steps that deliver the cross. Amen

2 Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon You?
It is my treason, Lord, that has undone You.
’Twas I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied You;
I crucified You.

5 Therefore, dear Jesus, since I cannot pay You,
I do adore You, and will ever praise You,
Think on Your pity and Your love unswerving,
Not my deserving.
“Ah, Holy Jesus”

A New Commandment

Maundy Thursday. It’s always a challenge to tell other people who don’t have services on this day why we do, and what that strange word “Maundy” even means. Maundy Thursday is the first of the three days of Easter. It might be easier if we called it “Holy Thursday” as some traditions do, but once you realize Maundy comes from the Latin word mandatum meaning "commandment" – it begins to make more sense and even right, as the events of the night in the Upper Room are replayed. Our congregation shares a simple meal of soup, bread and water, perhaps not a true Seder meal, but one that holds the same emphasis of community and serving each other. Moving into worship service, the readings tell of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples and we hear him say, "I give you a new commandment: love one another. Just as I have loved you, you must also love one another. By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:34-35).

We will walk with each other, we will walk hand in hand
We will walk with each other, we will walk hand in hand
And together we'll spread the news that God is in our land
And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love
They will know we are Christians by our love
"They'll Know We Are Christians" by Peter Scholtes

On this night we realize something momentous has affected our worship, first by the actions and words of Jesus, and finally as all of the adornments and decorations are taken out of the sanctuary and black cloths are draped over the remaining fixtures on the altar. "The rhythm of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter is the rhythm of baptism: hearing the commandment of love, dying to the old way of life, and rising with Christ to show this love to all." (pcusa.org)

My prayer for the congregation?

Jesus, our feet are dirty from the journey.
We have not loved one another as you have loved us.
Callousness and violence stain our hearts and lives.
How will we become clean again?
We see the table there,
but who will make us clean and ready for the meal?
Where will we find water for these soiled soles?
Restore us to the joy of God's salvation.
Amen.
- Daniel Benedict

Have I Got Your Attention?

Man may have made the world smaller by advanced transportation, but until any location can be reached in four hours or less, there are still some issues to be resolved. Sure it’s amazing to make a 1200 mile trip in 17 hours instead of three months by covered wagon, but I’m not sure parts of my body recognize the difference. The last place I want to be today is sitting in front of a computer, and I had to think twice about driving 1.5 miles to the grocery store. No, standing or lying is much preferred. In fact, one of the first things I started doing this morning was going through clutter in a bedroom. It’s something I’ve been meaning to do for quite awhile, but in the past I found other diversions like sitting and reading a book, or sitting and searching the internet, or sitting and looking at recipes, or sitting and watching television. My options were greatly reduced today when sitting was not an option.

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, You are never idle, constantly creating new life, opportunities, and lessons. When we become stagnant and self-absorbed, some inventive instigation may be needed to bring back the desire to set our own wants aside in favor of others needs. Let us pay attention to the smaller tugs and discreet signs, so that there is no need for the bigger shoves and firmer actions prompting us to repent. Surely we don’t need pain to trigger our right response. Plagues, storms, prophets and even death have been used as prods in the past. Let us turn our full attention to you. Amen.

Home

Jane here, continuing my guest stint as Nancy's fill in.

I have another friend named Nancy and I enjoy each one so much they sometimes get intertwined in my conversations of wisdom. So I think of them as Nancy1 (Nancy Gray) and Nancy2 (Nancy Greenfield.) I had lunch with Nancy2 last week and wanted to talk to her about Passover since she is Jewish.

But she sent me an open letter to all Christians, which was convenient for me since that meant I didn't have to write anything for my own blog yesterday. It's always interesting to talk to Nancy2 because there are so many basic ways her thinking is very different from mine but, at the same time, so much alike. I think the fundamental difference is that she was born Jewish and I was born Christian. We are each saying the same thing about the universe but using different languages to say it.

Nancy2 and her family went to Israel last summer. When I asked her what the experience was like she told me it was the most comfortable feeling; it was like going home.

In her open letter to Christians I noticed she referred to the United States as a "safe haven." But she didn't call it home. The ties to her ancestral home are so strong that it is more home to her than the country where she was born.

I'm going to a funeral today for one of the most beloved members of our church. And I know somewhere in there will be a reference to Alfred "going home."

My prayer for the congregation:

Keep us safe while we are here on earth, dear Creator. Help us to find a safe haven during our life and help us to understand people who don't feel safe and to help provide safe haven for them. When it is your time for us to leave, may we go home to eternal rest. Amen.

Curiosity Killed the Cat

OK, it’s Tuesday. Can I stop now? This Tuesday? Next Tuesday? Which Tuesday?

Until Nancy comes home I promised to produce something for her blog. When I started my own blog I had enough sense to only promise weekly offerings. But your Nancy, dear readers, told you she would pray every day.

While I was sitting here trying to think of something to write about, the cat climbed into the file cabinet and couldn’t get out. Let me say this about Murphy, our cat: he is very curious. He loves heights and climbs trees with ease. He especially loves to climb up to the highest book shelf in our office and peer down on us. We, in turn, love to watch him outside our kitchen window while he sits by the creek bank watching “things” in the creek. He can spend hours like this. He is the first cat I’ve ever seen who likes water and will jump up onto the bathroom sink to play with the water as it comes out the faucet. So we know that he is the cat they spoke of when they invented the phrase, “curiosity killed the cat.”

He’s also fairly clumsy for a cat. He has fallen from the bookshelf more times than we can count, bringing books and papers down with him. He disappeared for a week a while back and when he finally showed up his tail was more than just “dragging”, it was broken and partially paralyzed and, ultimately, had to be amputated. He’s a cat who gets himself into a lot of jams that he can’t get himself out of.

So we weren’t surprised when he climbed into the file cabinet when he saw the opened drawer. Then he jumped down behind the drawer to the floor inside the cabinet behind and under the drawer. I’m not sure that explains it so I’ll just say that once he got in there he couldn’t get himself out. We had to take all the files out and take the cabinet apart to get him out.
And, once out, I knew there was no assurance that it wouldn’t happen again. But he’s our cat and we love him. We love to watch him enjoy his freedom. Is this how God feels about us?

My prayer for the congregation?

God, we know you pull us out of a lot of jams we get ourselves into. And then we run right out and do the same stupid thing again. Thank you for your immense love and patience. There’s no way we can repay you. All we can do is try to learn from our mistakes but we can’t guarantee that we will. Ask Jesus. Maybe He can explain. It’s just very hard to be a human. Thank you for loving us even when it's a lot of trouble. amen.

Positively Substituted but Still Sure of Grace

Jane Els here. I am being punished for remarks I made that Nancy had fallen into bad habits and wasn't posting on a daily basis anymore. She came up to me in the middle of the Passing of the Peace yesterday and said something about did I want to be Positively Indecisive while she went out of town.

To start with, a person should never agree to anything presented to you in church. You are far too full of the Holy Spirit and agreeable in the house of the Lord. But it's always so hectic at church that I wasn't really sure what I had agreed to until she emailed me the password to this blog. Apparently I am to start immediately and continue until "Tuesday." This Tuesday? Next Tuesday? Tuesday Weld?

I can do the writing part in a half-assed way. I do that all the time. It's the Praying part that Nancy does here that will be new to me. Maybe that's the first prayer: Lord, give me words.

The sermon yesterday was a great one to comment on. I had the added benefit of hearing it twice at two different services. And I DO mean different. We have an alternative/experiential worship at 8:30 and traditional at 11. (Except it's not really 11, it's 10:50. Who on earth came up with that time, anyway? It makes no sense. But I digress.)

Anne set the stage very vividly for Christ's entrance to Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. As he entered on a donkey through the East gate, Pontius Pilate's army entered by the West gate. Anne's question at the end of the sermon was "Which procession did we want to be part of?"

The humble, meek and non-violent procession or the powerful military procession? But then she also threw a bunch of facts out to confuse us. The truth is that the world's future is changing and the people who used to be in charge won't be much longer. The minority will soon be the majority. The last will soon be first and the first, last. Does that change which procession I march in? Where do I line up and what if I get in the wrong line?

Dear God,
Put us in the line you want us in. Help our congregation grow the way you want us to grow. When we get confused help us to understand that we don't really have to understand as much as love. And, please, dear God, give me some words to use until Nancy gets home.
Amen.

Poetic License

“To be a poet is a condition, not a profession” - Robert Frost

I watched both Dr. Zhivago and Man of LaMancha within the past week. Dr. Zhivago, I’ve watched too many times to count, but this was the first time I saw Man of La Mancha. I had heard of Don Quixote, knew he fought windmills, and was well aware of “The Impossible Dream,” one of the main songs from the musical, but I didn’t know the plot of the story. Cervantes is jailed during the Inquisition for the crime of being a poet and uses his talents as a storyteller to win over the other inmates and save his manuscript. Dr. Zhivago is closely watched by his government because of the poems he writes, and I had to question, what makes a poet so dangerous? Both men arrested for subversion of words next to words, not swords next to swords. The Frost quote explains the threat of the poet, not that one makes a living as a poet, but that one thinks like a poet at all. There are some experiences in which poetry is the involuntary response – love, beauty, and grace. A poet sees the world with new eyes and writes to capture the moment.

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, You are the author of life. You fill our days with prose and song and fill our minds with promises and possibilities. When we are most finely tuned to your presence, we are engulfed by emotion and strength. Let us see as a poet, and consider the world anew.

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far

To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march into Hell
For a heavenly cause

And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest

And the world will be better for this
That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star

Limited Supplies

The health and beauty manufacturers have made me who I am today. I look better with makeup than without, but that’s not who I am.

It’s getting harder and harder to find the same product when it's time to replenish. It doesn’t seem to matter if it is foundation, shampoo, eye shadow, or toothpaste the one I used and liked is no longer available and I’m left to guess about the color of the new merchandise, how it applies, or the way it interacts with my body. I wouldn’t mind as much if they weren’t so costly, but indeed they are and it makes the decision of which new product to try that much harder. I have gone on-line to try and order a favored item that may be in someone’s warehouse, but manufacturers must have the approach of limited production as a way to increase sales. Consumers are bullied into trying different goods, each knowing that some may find improvements, but others will be a waste of money and the shopper may return to buy something else even though it was not depleted. To add to the offense, it is not healthy to pass along many health and beauty products to other people. Shoppers aren’t forced to buy anything, it is their option, but you’re not going to find many people willing to give up shampoo for the cause.

So more and more I am becoming a hoarder, buying larger quantities of the items that I like, knowing that two months later the same product could easily be discontinued.

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, You are steadfast and resolute. In a world that changes second by second, we are worn by constant disorder. Let us rejoice in the knowledge that your love remains unwavering, your care is continuous, and your conviction is firm. There is no guessing, no wondering, no testing needed to realize that you remain unchanged, offer the same grace, and bless without qualifications. You are the same God that directed Moses, the same Savior that healed the sick, the same Spirit that moved through Pentecost, and the same Lord working through my life. It is not possible to hoard the blessings and gifts we are given, they are too numerous to restrain. Let us become the creation you readied, the congregation you dreamed, and the neighbors you demand. Amen.

Leave of Mind

One indication that it’s time for me to take a few days of leave is when I have to make deliberate choices to bypass the first exit towards Houston and Galveston and instead steer towards the second exit which leads north, to work. I can’t say that Houston would be listed within my top ten getaways, but the sign acts as a siren, calling me to remote locations that don’t include a desk, a computer or deadlines. And a few times my equilibrium has been confused by mistakenly taking the higher ramp because of fog or distraction, but each time I turn around at the first exit and realign myself to the appropriate direction. I might not consider the sign so inviting if I was reminded of the work involved prior to vacation: creating lists, detailing directions, tying up loose ends, and communicating unresolved questions and orders. That’s at work! Another set of actions takes flight at home with washing, packing and cleaning. It’s a wonder we even look forward to vacation! Even though I normally have a difficult time releasing work duties, once I leave the gate for vacation, poor work is like a forgotten toy that one has outgrown, left in the corner, unattended and disregarded.

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, We retreat to your arms and find peace. We often make lists of exclusions and complexities that postpone our response to your call. We may be drawn to leave our daily routine, but then we allow our habits to supersede and we return by mote. Let us grow past our adolescent behavior and leave behind our childish ways. Once we step into your realm and leave our will behind, let us find that we do not miss the restrictions that once held us captive. Those ideas won’t have the same hold or allure; pushed aside by the desire to focus on our new life. Amen.

Foolishness

Of all the mornings to lie back down after my shower; I knew it was a bad idea but I did it anyway. Next I was awakened by my husband asking if I had the day off. NO! Then I had to make the phone call to my boss, “This is NOT an April Fool’s Joke. I am just now leaving the house when I am usually pulling into the parking lot at work!” When I finally got settled in my desk I glanced right away at the calendar. The calendar is designed to show three months at a time: the current month in the center, the past month at the top, and next month at the bottom. It’s all quite orderly and intentional. However, when I looked at the calendar this morning, March had been moved to the top, May was in the middle and June was at the bottom. There’s only one person who is as deliberate about changing calendars and I knew where to go for answers. “Well, with the kids gone I had no one to wake up saying ‘It’s snowing!’ so I had to spread my foolishness somewhere else!”

One of the books I have intended to read for several years is St. Francis and the Foolishness of God. I bought it, but I haven’t actually read it. Kind of like 100 other books on the shelf. There’s so much I want to read, and foolishly think I will, but you have to admit this title is catchy. Who could refuse? One doesn’t normally attach the adjective of foolish with God and it takes an entirely different mindset to even consider the question. God is wise, omnipotent, and powerful; not simple-minded and reckless. What would it mean to be foolish for God?

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, You honor child-like wonder, simple praise, and foolish acts of faith. It would be idiotic to resign a well-financed job to accept a volunteer position in the food pantry. It would be foolhardy to refuse favors until the rest of society was offered the same options. It would be ludicrous to forgo a vacation abroad to build houses in humid New Orleans. It would be comical to prepare an entire dinner only to ask your family to step aside for someone off the street. It would be preposterous to think that what we do makes a difference in the world. Let us be reckless, swift and faithful, relying on Your will to make sense of our abandonment of goals, treasures and careers. We know we are acting foolishly but have no recourse to act otherwise. You are wise, O Lord, and devoted to restoring peace. Living alongside your doctrines of justice anything less than reconciliation seems worthless. Teach us to care, to invite, and to anticipate moments of divine intervention, where we are to be instruments of your uncommon, unlikely, unfettered Grace. How foolish are we prepared to be in the discipline of loving our neighbors as ourselves? Let us be called fools for the love of You! Amen

Blooming in Small Ways

Texans are often portrayed as being loud and bold with gross illusions of grandeur. Usually the cartoonish character is dressed with over-sized accessories to match the big-headed, big-mouthed oaf who is spouting tales about oil, longhorns and money. “Everything is bigger in Texas” makes some people cringe, but in many ways it’s true. When it takes three days to drive across the state – that’s big! But more than claims of superiority, Texas really excels in the small things like small town courtesies and little flowers on the roadside. During the spring the bluebonnets decorate the highways, towns promote their driving trails and art festivals offer paintings that will remain in bloom for the rest of the year. On an impulse, I decided to take a drive after work a little bit south of town to explore the trails near Ennis. It’s hard to guess when the peak of the season will pass but after days of wind and rain, and more in the forecast, I decided to take advantage of the nice clear afternoon. Additionally, it was getting close to the “magic hour” when the angled sun produces richer tones and I was eager to take some new photos. I found the even smaller town of Bristol, which was like a little hill country retreat less than an hour from Dallas. Intentional planting of bluebonnets added to its beauty with pastured horses, reflective ponds, and sloping meadows. One field was showing the tips of red wildflowers beginning to immerse and will become a vibrant contrast to the cooling patches of bluebonnets. On my way home I stayed on the back roads and realized I was within minutes of a good friend who enjoys life in the country. Knowing that Miss Manners would not approve of drop-in guests, I phoned ahead and gave her a good ten minute’s notice! I happened to arrive as she was finishing homemade seafood chowder (Delicious!!) and I tried to earn my place at the dinner table by helping fix the cornbread and wash dishes afterwards. That’s what neighbors do! It was a night of simple pleasures - budding flowers, sunset, shared meal, and talking around the kitchen table. That’s something to boast about!

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, You excel in nurturing the least among us and encouraging our development into a full-grown model of your vision. While there may be giant strides in maturity, behind the scenes it will be the small acts of graciousness, friendship, caring, and feeding that will maintain our growth. We shine independently, but like the bluebonnets, when grouped in common ground, the results are exceptional! We are a rag-tag, rugged bunch, but when given the right circumstances, we may bloom abundantly! We ask that You place us in the proper ground so that we may grow upright into righteousness. Amen.

Which Lane is Right?

A few years ago, both the highway and the feeder streets were improved and widened. The highway lanes have lessened the rush hour crunch and have helped to accommodate the increasing number of homes being built in the outer suburbs. The one area I’m a little leery of is not on the highway, but on one of the feeder roads. In anticipation of heavy traffic two lanes are allowed to make right hand turns onto the access road. The second lane has the option of turning or going straight and in actuality should be the logical turn lane in preparation for entering the highway, but so far no one on my watch is using that lane for turning. Cars continue to line up in a single row and wait their turn patiently. There are plenty of other similar lane markings in Dallas that do work as designed. Drivers take advantage of the double-turn lanes and choose lanes according to their next turn. One day this intersection will change. Some outsider will read the signs and turn right as is their option forcing the single lane to react to this obtrusion into their routine. It will be chaos for awhile as drivers begin to revise their patterns, methodology and temperaments as they jockey for their place in this puzzle. I know one day it will change, and both lanes will allow more traffic flow, but I won’t be the one to topple the first domino! And if I get rightfully bypassed, I’ll try to hold my tongue. “We don’t do it that way around here Mister!” (You know it’s gonna to be a pickup or a sports car – unless, of course, it’s a distracted sedan driven by a woman putting on makeup!) And actually, it can be done that way. Who’s the lemming?

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, You are the great designer of life. Sometimes we fail to heed your signs, instead relying on familiar patterns and unobtrusive actions. We don’t want to change our habits, particularly when it is pairing so adequately with so many others. There doesn’t seem to be a need to upset the flow, start consternation and stand out as an instigator. No one seems to be complaining, why should we be the ones asked to make the sacrifice of our anonymity? Despite our knowledge of your imminent judgment, we are planted more firmly in our stoicism than freed by your dreams. Let us remove the shackles of contentment and comfort of routine, finding instead, pleasure and reassurance by the release of our will to yours. Joy can be made that way, if we watch and follow. Amen.

Walking Into Mystery

I thought his actions would earn him the title of the most hated man at church. Not that everyone would feel that way, only half; the half that are males. The brazenness of some individuals to leave behind convention and generalizations to set their own standards of behavior is alarming! This individual took it upon himself to initiate an assembly of almost one hundred people and convince them to give up several hours of their Saturday to meet at the church, even though they would be there again the next day! However, not everyone got the opportunity to decide if they would attend this clandestine meeting. One was brought totally uninformed; in fact, a small conspiracy went so far as to sequester and blindfold the dupe so that there would be no hint of detection. The assembly was prepared to begin when the unknowing participant was brought into the interior hallway. Music was the only sensory cue until the blindfold was lifted. Eyes were barely able to register the environment when new items were thrust forward – something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue. The enormity of the planning was realized as she looked down the aisle to find her husband of twenty-five years waiting for her with a robed pastor, a sanctuary filled with family and friends, and a flower girl waiting to start the march. On a wing and a prayer, her husband had successfully planned a service to renew their vows. It’s hard to know if the most astonishing fact was that the whole planning process was done in two weeks or that the secret was kept! She took a moment to adjust her hair and then eagerly stood at the head of the aisle ready to affirm that this was indeed the one with whom she wanted to share her life. It’s hard to say who was the most pleased – the groom, the bride, the pastor or the assembled. “You Are My Sunshine” was played on the piano after their vows were renewed, and spontaneously the song became a congregational chorus instead of the instrumental planned.

So why did I assume that his name would be mud? I thought the wives would start elbowing their husbands asking “Why don’t you do something like that?” Oddly, the women were strangely quiet. While the romance meter definitely scored a 10, the idea of being surprised in front of others, not being able to choose attire, and feeling out of control led wives to issue warnings of harm if the same thing were enacted instead of scolding the spouse for not thinking of the idea first!

My prayer for the congregation?

Impetuous, Wonderful God, you delight in showering the unexpected! You eagerly wait to show off the care and planning afforded to our acceptance, and ensure our shared endeavors will have Holy support. Still, we venture to suggest our preferences and requirements, and hope that our plans conveniently align with the All Mighty. Help us adapt our mindset so that we become more accessible to your proposals of adventure, mission, tasks and blessings. Let us renew and recommit our lives to your eternal covenant and thereafter bask in exuberant grace. It’s hard to say who will be the most pleased – the giver, the receiver, our neighbors, our world.

All That Jazz

Bill Carter stopped trying to separate his two worlds and found a perfect union in sacred jazz. Bill was a professional musician as he entered seminary and is now an ordained minister and pastor of a church in northern Pennsylvania. His jazz quartet Presbybop is finishing their eighth CD, Psalms Without Words. Once he gave up the pretense of having to split his interests he realized there was much in common between the principles of jazz and the foundation of his theology. In an address to Princeton University he shared some lessons learned from his understanding of jazz and faith. “I truly believe there is a realm of beauty and joy which is just out of our reach. An artist aspires to touch these things without clinging to them. That is why we make music with the tips of our fingers or on the edge of our lips. We can touch the music beyond us but we can never possess it. We can be transformed by some higher power but it’s our task to work out the implications of that transformation. We can strive for a lifetime to play the one note that really counts but ultimately we have to find words to proclaim what we hear.”

He likens the preparation of sermons with the embodiment of jazz tunes:
full of improvisations, re-creating and re-telling old words and tunes, giving up control to allow the art to speak, and the necessary response of the community to bring fulfillment. “Like sermons (at least, like my sermons), jazz tunes are unfinished. Both sermons and jazz performances are completed, not on the bandstand or in the chancel, but in the lives of those who have ears to hear.”

He imagines a church acting with the freedom and imagination of a jazz session, playing with the give and take of invested, attentive, active co-creators. “The shared reality we create brings up even more surprises than our individual work…. Trusting someone else can involve gigantic risks, and it leads to the even more challenging task of learning how to trust yourself. Giving up control to another person teaches to give up some control to the unconscious.”

In addition to the willingness to be open to new ideas and chords, Carter also cautions, “like most acts of God, the inspiration is revealed only in subtlety through hard work and flashes of unpredicted brilliance.”

My prayer for the congregation?

God of Creation, you are like an unchained melody: open to new participants, welcoming new voices and finding harmonies that compliment and complete each chorus. As one tone diminishes you pick up the rhythm and lead into the next refrain. God, in our music may we find an opportunity to loosen our control and meet you in the openness of praise as the songs lift our souls. May we welcome the Spirit as guide and composer and enter into the holy symphony with passion and clarity as we are presented opportunity.

My Day in the Sun

The questions on the board read “What was the best day of your life?” and “What was the worst day of your life?” Like Dickens in A Tale of Two Cities it was remarkable how many in the room recalled the two memories being intertwined with one another.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity; it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness;…”

For some the best and worst memories had immediately been recognized as coupled even as they lived through them, while others only saw the connection after years had given a new perspective. I know dark days will come, but if my worst day takes longer than five minutes to recall then it confirms that I have had a blessed life. My best day? I’m still leaving my options open for tomorrow or the next day, but without a doubt I can replay one glorious late afternoon as if I had a recorder waiting to hit play. My husband is a superb vacation planner and on one of the last days of the trip he planned a late afternoon cruise on a catamaran. The boat hugged the coastline while the sun was still high enough that it provided warmth against the cool winds. As we pulled away into the open waters we built up our confidence to first inch and then steadily progress out onto the netting. Others preferred to stay closer to the hull where there was seating and food and protection from the wind. But I loved the wind in my face, being a part of the dip and raise of the boat, hearing the whip of the sails, being able to see the water beneath me and feel the spray of the waves. I could have stayed on that boat for months instead of hours! When we returned to land our boys played on the beach well past sundown, splashing in the surf, digging tunnels in the sand, and looking for shells. We stayed on the beach as long as we could; preserving the memory of a day well lived.

My prayer for the congregation?

Mighty God, You long to share your majesty. We can only appreciate glimpses of your infinite splendor before we are awestruck and mesmerized. We gaze at the majestic mountains and contemplate your grandeur, we search the open waters and compare your vastness, we follow the colors of the sunset and are limited by words , we count the glowing stars and are lost in your creations, and we hear the cry of a baby and are brought to our knees. Of all the incredible wonders we have the privilege of witnessing, the ones with which we have nothing to compare are the miracles of changing evil for good. In our worst days we feel lost and unsure. In our best of days we are certain of your abiding love and resplendent grace. May we be used as instruments of caring, for at our best, we are your servants, yet at our worst, we are loved still. Amazing grace! Amen.

An Average Day

It’s an average day. I can’t think of anything outstanding that made it worse or better than another day. Maybe it took a little longer to pick out something to wear, but I was at my office with ten minutes to spare. I considered staying a little late but left at a normal hour – for me. It was a routine day: answered the usual questions, laughed with friends, fought through email, juggled orders, drove at a moderate speed, fed the dogs, spent time on the internet, ignored TV, and because I longed for a wee bit of excitement, I threw in two loads of wash once I got home. In high school we lived on such a quiet street that my friend and I felt sure we could sleep in the middle of the road and not be disturbed. It was almost the opposite of the Princess and the Pea tale and we were quite perturbed by our humdrum routine. Some people pray for a return to an average day after experiencing chaos and change and they wonder when their life will return to normal. Sometimes normal, usual and average have to be re-defined as a benefit of growth, but at times chaos rules and begins to feel like the new gauge for normal, to the detriment of sanity.

My prayer for the congregation?

Extraordinary, Life-Pulsing God, you creations are tempered by sound judgment, divine planning, and insightful concern. Nothing is left to chance. Nothing is ordinary in your realm. Let us rejoice in the simplest of days alongside celebrations, appreciate calmness beside turmoil, and diminish calamity until peace regains. Let us routinely review our standards and expectations to encompass the greater values of your shared wisdom and depthless love. Even though we may feel invisible and plain in our ordinary day, we are never withdrawn from your watchful care. Let us go forth in confidence every day, regardless of its significance, cloaked by your courage, strength and compassion. An average day can be mighty if lived as a Christ follower. Amen.

Safe at Home

Baseball, perhaps more than any other major sport in the US, is identified as Americana. I grew up hearing the jingle “Baseball, Hot Dogs, Apple Pie and Chevrolet” which the car manufacturer hoped to engrain as what proud Americans should hold dear. It’s made a lasting impression on me! Baseball may have been the best choice in this campaign over the other major sports, has any other sports integrated their vernacular into the daily speech as much as baseball?

When someone helps you out,
they went to bat for you.
When someone does a lot to get a job done,
they stepped up to the plate.
When someone doesn’t do well,
they struck out.
When someone does really well,
they hit a home run.
When someone steps in if you’re having trouble,
they pinch hit for you.
When someone tries to fool you,
they threw you a curve ball.
When someone does fool you,
they got one by you.
When someone does a fantastic job,
they hit one out of the park.
When someone makes the wrong decision,
they made a bad call.
When someone just barely does something correctly,
they just slid by.
When someone is a tough negotiator,
they’re playing hardball.
http://blogs.timesunion.com/bethlehem/215

In the next room I can hear the Japanese team playing the Koreans in the finals of the World Baseball Classic. In this tournament, one would assume that the US had an advantage, both in skill and location, and might go so far as to assume that their place in the finals was concrete. This is where the best from all countries come to earn credibility in professional baseball. But instead of an automatic write-in, the US was eliminated in the semi-finals, and even more crushing, in an earlier bracket, their game was stopped early because the other country was so far ahead in the score. How does this happen? It is OUR sport after all.

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God , you are the great equalizer. In your care, not one thing is given more esteem than another. We begin to think that gifts you have placed in our care belong to us, which immediately places us above another. We begin to think we have more insight into your word, are more attuned to your song, and are more privileged to your mission. Let others stand aside! As we puff our chests in pride at being your favored child, we stand bewildered as you make room for more. Yet, before we can complain, we notice the warmth of your presence has not changed, the pressure in the small of our back has not lessened, and the generous light has not waned. You want us to be near - near to you, near to our neighbor, and near to our rival, so you call us to come closer still. Let us relinquish ours for yours. Amen.

What To Do

Remain still. Do not desert your patch of sand. Bear the heat without and the cold within. Put up with the boredom of having nothing to do and the emptiness of having achieved nothing. Do not ask what you are accomplishing. What you accomplish is unimportant. Realize that the most extraordinary thing you can do is to pass the time which never passes. Hope can make time pass. Hope is indeed the true dimension of time. Time is also a factor in our exodus from the slavery of hurry to the promised land of hope. - Alessandro Pronzato

Excuse me, BUT – I just worked many months on one project, and the day I finally finish I find this waiting in my e-mail: “What you accomplish is unimportant.” No, No, No! It matters!!! Why else would I have done all of that juggling to fit this project in with other equally taxing jobs that just weren’t as lengthy? Why sometimes I had two computers going at once, side-by-side, so that I could double my efforts to maximize processing time. You can’t tell people, especially those raised with Protestant work ethics, not to consider what they have accomplished! And if you want to know something else, I am quite accomplished at taking naps! So there!! I think I have a pretty good grip on understanding the slower side of life, and I can appreciate it even more after a week of deadlines, activities, meetings, and preparations. Remain still? I’ll fall asleep! An exodus from the slavery of hurry? I’m already late!

My prayer for the congregation?

Oh God of the ages, you bid us to honor your ageless wisdom. You call to us to listen to silence. We scoff, we argue, we balk. You call us to leave our words behind. We stomp, we frown, we write. You call to us to wait in stillness. We defer, we delay, we fail. We do not understand a time without hours, silence without noise, patience without end, and words without language. What curious things you ask. What unnatural ideas you desire. We could never think of these on our own, which gives credence that it is your wish and not ours. We will try to remain still, live in hope, and in doing so, worship you in a new way. Please be our guide. Amen.

Which Daily Truths

Every truth must be accompanied by some corresponding act.
–George MacDonald

I know certain truths, but it doesn’t make them any easier to follow. Some truths make sense, and they are often for my protection and well-being. Still I falter, especially when it involves discipline. That is why I envisioned using this space as my accountability partner, I know myself too well and any practice with the word “daily” in it is going to be a struggle. Of course, there are some daily exercises in which I excel: eating, checking email (responding is a different action), telling my husband I love him, taking my iron pill, brushing my tooth (that’s for you Herman), feeding the dogs, and recently I’ve added checking Facebook, There’s a gamut of obvious actions that don’t fall within that narrow spectrum, one being physical exercise. My physical being has been mired my entire life by lack of coordination, gracefulness, awareness, and athletic ability I can walk, but not in heels. I would love to do Tai Chi in front of the Golden Gate Bridge at sunrise like they show on TV. I think of martial arts as being a disciplined art of movement and mind. One teacher noticed that his

"students would speed up the movements they are unsure of, as if that would help. Of course it's the other way around. Only by slowing down at moments of uncertainty are you able to correct them.”

That seems to be where I am stuck these days. I could quickly add a note each day, or almost every day, to follow along with my initial goal, but it might be choppy and rushed to meet a time limit. Or I can move more slowly and deliberately, adding by inspiration and not the hour. I can do fast and choppy, that’s Facebook lingo. I can do mini-epics, that’s my nature. I know daily prayers increase strength just as continued exercise builds muscle memory. It’s been a year since I’ve started this journey and it’s a good time to evaluate the process. Have I strayed? Do I just need to toughen up? Do I need to set new goals? Lent is an ideal time to roam in the desert, to slow down for moments of uncertainty and check for correction.


My prayer for the congregation?

Our Lord, You meet us in the desert knowing its challenges all too well. We have the benefit of your presence, your courage, and your experience of sifting through the world’s temptations and following the true course. While the desert seems bleak and desolate there is life and beauty still. Help us to find that beauty within our own souls, to renew our life as a Christ follower, and to accept this desert time as a slower pace to reflect on those truths which we must take action. Amen.

Engaged by Love

Somewhere in the world tonight – someone is proposing. True love is avowed and commitments are pledged. There are entire TV shows devoted to making the marriage proposal a moment to remember, radio stations ask callers to share their engagement stories, airplanes spell the words in the sky with puffs of smoke, TV sports cameras take their lens off the field of play to find the couple for whom the jumbotron just posted the BIG question, friends join forces to set up secluded picnics with candles and roses, and waiters collaborate for special delivery while the other patrons watch the defining moment when the question is asked and the shock slowly wanes as the recipient comprehends what they are being asked and that all of this elaborate planning was just for them. It’s hard to keep anxiety out of the wedding day, but the engagement, even with its unique stressors, has an air of infectious elation. I know of one marriage proposal tonight and by now the ring is on the finger and the couple must be wondering if their faces are permanently shaped into smiles from the abundance of joy! What if we considered that we too are actively sought after, through elaborate plans or straightforward assurances, and being asked to share our lives with the One who loves us more than humanly possible? What if we considered that desire to call us into relationship is stronger than our most vivid imagination? What response would you give after the initial shock and realization that you are deemed to be desirable, valuable, lovable and so important to your Suitor that nothing will separate that Love from you? How would you tell the story of your engagement?

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God of Love abundant, we are humbled by your entreats of union. In a world where we absorb harmful words and hurtful actions, we don’t recognize ourselves as being worthy of love, and can’t imagine being held with admiration and approval. Yet, you call us beloved and guard us as precious treasure. Let us remove any barriers that prevent us from accepting your invitation and learn to embrace and embody the person you know us to be. May we reflect this realization in our countenance and visage so that when asked of our enrichment, we may freely share the story of our joyous engagement, creatively and generously given by the Grace of God.

Confirming Anam Cara

I still wear green for St. Patrick’s Day; it’s tradition! It initially started for me in elementary school where the rule was if you didn’t wear green you were leaving yourself open to pinching. St. Patrick’s has also been special because it’s our dad’s birthday and one family theory explains that our last name could have been Irish with the spelling perhaps changed on immigration. I still wear green on St. Patrick’s because of my affinity with the Celts. I appreciate their awareness of the mystery, the earth, and the encompassing arms of the Trinity. Tonight what started as a web search for Celtic prayers resolved into finding an essay: “Help, Facebook is a Better Christian Than I Am.”

On Facebook, free love reigns…. My friend Don pointed out to me recently that the language of relationship on Facebook is that of invitation and grace.

The beginning of my search and the ending were as far apart in ideas as the Grand Canyon. Celtic spirituality is often associated with ancient practices and beliefs while Facebook originated in the fall of 2003. The essay addressed some of the same questions I have with the way I view my Facebook account. I couldn’t get over how disconnected the two ideas were of my initial search and the final page. The essay meant enough to me that I shared the link with a friend, and then I remembered that the first link I visited on my Celtic search was anam cara, which means “soul friend.” This Celtic understanding of friendship does not set limitations of space or time on the soul. When you have an anam cara, your friendship will cut across all convention and categories. The Celts believed that forming an anam cara friendship would help you to awaken your awareness of your own nature and experience the joys of others. Facebook certainly cuts across generations, locality and ideas. I do love a good mystery!

My prayer for the congregation?

Great is the mystery of faith! Let us value friends both old and new. From each one we learn a little more about your great workings in the world and truths revealed in your aspirations for us. When two or more are gathered your love can be reflected exponentially. Let us remain open to new possibilities of relationships, of understanding, and of praising your name. Amen.

There is no plant in the ground
But is full of God’s virtue.
There is no form in the strand
But it is full of God’s blessing.
There is no life in the sea,
There is not creature in the river,
There is not in the firmament
But proclaims God’s goodness.
Alexander Carmichael, Carmina Gadelica, Lindisfarne Press 1992

Singing Through Lent

During Lent we are led through the valley of suffering and songs have always been used to help ease pain. My music library opened involuntarily this morning during one of the responsive readings. The congregation simply read “journey on” and this brain left the building and traveled back to the seventies to hear Kansas sing “journey on my wayward son.” Which of course, an internet search later proved wrong; it is “Carry on My Wayward Son.” But to be reminded of the words of the chorus was worth the time warp.

Carry on my wayward son
There’ll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don’t you cry no more

Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claim to be a wise man,
Well it surely means that I don’t know

On a stormy sea of moving emotion
Tossed about I’m like a ship on the ocean
I set a course for winds of fortune,
but I hear the voices say

Carry on my wayward son
There’ll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don’t you cry no more

Carry on, you will always remember
Carry on, nothing equals the splendor
Now your life’s no longer empty
Surely heaven waits for you!

It’s always interesting to find glimpses of spirituality in unexpected places, and perhaps this is another instance of finding fool’s gold glittering underneath the common rock, but sparkles are still pretty to see. I found a list of songs with Bible implications which led me to a cool version of “All My Trials” by Paul McCartney. Evidently there is a wide range of lyrics for this song, and Paul (I can call him by his first name) recorded his version in 1990.

There's only one thing that money can't buy,
True love, that will never die, oh no, no.
All my trials, Lord, soon be over.

My prayer for the congregation?

Gracious God, You are the balm for our soul. In a world of medications and preventative education, we use them to stave off suffering and control our afflictions. So we are confused when you ask us to walk into Lent, willingly leaving ourselves open to feeling pain and refraining from self-healing. You ask us to reside in a foreign place where we turn to you alone for our healing, for the health of our soul. Let us not flee too quickly from this valley. We can linger in this land of Lent because we have the confidence of Easter, we know that there will be peace when we are done and that soon our trials will be over. Amen.

When We Become Prayer

I read this a few days ago, and it's words have stayed with me.
from The Monastic Way, collected in In My Own Words by Joan Chittister

When we have prayed prayers long enough, all the words drop away and we begin to live in the presence of God. Then prayer is finally real. When we find ourselves sinking into the world around us with a sense of purpose, an inner light and deep and total trust that whatever happens is right for us, then we have become prayer.

When we kneel down, we admit the magnitude of God in the universe and our own smallness in the face of it. When we stand with hands raised, we recognize the presence of God in life and our own inner glory because of it. All life is in the hands of God. Even the desire to pray is the grace to pray. The movement to pray is the movement of God in our souls.

Our ability to pray depends on the power and place of God in our life. We pray because God attracts us and we pray only because God is attracting us. We are not, in other words, even the author of our own prayer life. It is the goodness of God, not any virtue that we have developed on our own, that brings us to the heart of God. And it is with God’s help that we seek to go there.

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, You are the source of our gifts, our will, our prayers. We are grown-up babes, turning to you for our nourishment, relying on you for our well-being, dependent upon you for our inmost prayers. It is sobering to realize how needy we are. Yet, it is liberating to know that we don't have to find the perfect words, nor appear at an appointed hour, nor have coordinated clothing. You ask us just to be with you, to become prayer. Amen.

Who Are You in the Story

Another diversion the past few weeks was the final preparations for our women’s retreat. I have been on some level of the planning team for over ten years. It’s my favorite committee even though I often come home more tired than energized as the word “retreat” would frequently suggest. Last year I even took an extra day off work to rest after the retreat! Still, I find it hard to imagine not being involved. Inevitably, if you are in a bible study with a group of women, the story of Mary and Martha is bound to be used as an illustration at some point. I usually identify with Mary, in part because the last place that feels natural to me is the kitchen and I’m much more likely to be in another room, working a puzzle, on the computer, or plain ole’piddlin’. I’m really good at piddlin’. But I realized during this particular retelling of the story during the retreat that when company comes, I would probably head for the kitchen, not because I’m a Martha, but because I’m not a Mary either. Mary is the quintessential host, the one who stops everything she is doing and makes you feel like you are the most important person in the room. Mary is not idle as Martha supposes; she’s busily asking questions, making you comfortable, and listening for cues that help her find out what is important to you. I’m not a total introvert, and I think I’m a good listener, but after a few minutes in the sitting room I would probably find a reason to go to the kitchen where I could do something with my hands and appear busy. Not because the kitchen is my habitat, but it’s a haven. Whenever the options are A or B, my response is likely to be C.

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, You know us through and through and love us still. When we surprise ourselves with a new revelation, you nod, knowing all along our weaknesses and strengths, both disguised and forthright. Help us to work with, and through, our gifts and challenges. If you can create a pearl from a grain of sand, you can transform our minds and lives. Help us to discover the many talents in our congregation and recognize their unique purpose. We are thankful for those who are naturally welcoming and embracing like Mary and thankful for those who are actively feeding the hungry and mending brokenness like Martha. We are thankful for those who play on the ground with the youth and those who study into the night. We are thankful for those who share in song and joy and those who endlessly pray. We are thankful for the peacemakers, the dreamers, the prophets. We are thankful for those who yearn, even when nothing is clear. We are thankful for those who follow, even when it’s clearly an unknown direction. Let our response be “Thy will be done.” Amen.