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.

Without An End In Sight

One of the projects that kept me busy the past few weeks was my involvement on a committee that generated a mailer intended to reach 6,500 people. It was our first try at such a venture, and it was an awakening to the process and the effort required to reach the goal. There were different theories of efficiency, estimations on how many letters were left, and if the letters would arrive in time to allow guests to attend an educational forum. My concern was efficiency. I wanted to know the best way to fold, insert, stuff, seal, and apply labels with the least amount of handling. It made no sense to have to touch the same piece of paper four different times, in my calculating brain that would mean over 25,000 different times the material shifted through the different staging areas! I brought paper home to fold, I watched movies I had never seen before, I found uses for household objects to help expedite the task (an old 3.5 disk is great for making a crisp fold), but most of the time I kept concentrating on the number. I was grasping at understanding the enormity of 6,500. I could single-fold 1000 in about 2 hours, but it was merely a blimp in the process. But then I began to wonder if that number is so vast, so expansive, what is this promise of eternal life? “Forever AND ever?” My brain hurts….

My prayer for the congregation?

Eternal God, Very God, we praise you. You know the grains of sand, you name the stars, and you claim the hairs on our head. We use science to try to explain your mysteries, we use math to try and explain your majesty, we use poetry to try and explain your love, and we use art to try and explain your beauty. Still, we are stymied in our inability to capture your essence. You do not ask us to explain your stateliness, but ask instead that we share the tidings of grace with our neighbor. Let us worry less about theory and more about caring. How long must we continue? How long can we discount? How long must we pray? When does one life end and another begin? Let us relax our quotas and statistics and simply be in your eternal presence, forever and ever. Amen.

The Lord rules.
He puts on majesty as if it were clothes.
The Lord puts on majesty and strength.
The world is firmly set in place.
It can't be moved.
2 Lord, you began to rule a long time ago.
You have always existed.
3 Lord, the seas have lifted up their voice.
They have lifted up their pounding waves.
4 But Lord, you are more powerful than the roar of the ocean.
You are stronger than the waves of the sea.
Lord, you are powerful in heaven.
5 Your laws do not change.
Lord, your temple will be holy for all time to come.
Psalm 93 (New International Reader's Version)

…it is necessary for the Son of Man to be lifted up—and everyone who looks up to him, trusting and expectant, will gain a real life, eternal life. This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life.
John 3: 15-16 (The Message)

East. The edge of the world.
West. Those who came before me.
- Laurie Anderson

When You Grow Tired

It’s been a double-dose of iron pills kind of day for the past few weeks. The last time I left a post it was during our busiest week of the year at work. By that Friday night I was asleep by 8:30pm and slept almost 10 hours. The next morning I helped for a few hours at the USO, and came home and took a four-hour nap. The get-up-and-go does not have an endless supply anymore. As my next decade approaches one starts to earn a new respect and perspective on the heroes of the Bible like Abraham and Sarah who having reached an age of earned rest, were led instead on a path that would have challenged a younger couple with fresh legs and energetic optimism. Instead, the unlikely couple of seasoned years were chosen to enter into a faith covenant that would grow a nation with more members than the stars in the sky. I just need a little more iron in the blood to propel me forward, and then I can tackle the extra projects at work, squeeze in a load of laundry, and engage in ministry as the Lord reveals. Wait! I’m too tired to cook dinner much less grow a nation! Couldn’t my ministry be licking stamps? Surely the risks of paper cuts and dry tongue would compensate against the calls to change a lifestyle or an opinion held firm. Yes, I’m sure the call to grow a nation is for someone other than me. God called people who were too old, too young, too handsome, too obscure, too mean, or too full of doubt, but not one who was too tired.

My prayer for the congregation?

Dear God, Your will is infallible. We find it improbable to think that we could be a representative of your choosing. We find it intimidating to think that you may put your trust in our gifts. We find it too easy to think that we have an excuse to decline your call. Help our will come into measure with your vision, help our lives follow your direction, and help our doubts fall towards your assurance. In our quiet center, we know that you would never send us away from you. Help us quiet our minds, our fears, and our disbelief. If we become tired, use our rest to increase our willingness to dream and be led. Amen.