Wasted Time

This was a week of futile efforts and wasted time.

This week I wasted an entire afternoon sitting in and around a State Senate hearing room waiting to testify in support of a bill to allow home-based day care providers to organize. I went to Annapolis, dressed in my clerical collar and all, and there we waited three hours, through panel after panel of people speaking in favor and against a different bill. I had to leave before they even got to the bill on which I had been asked to speak.

On Friday evening my family and I went to the airport to catch a flight to Phoenix for my grandfather's 80th birthday party. The shuttle bus driver picked us up in the parking lot and asked what airline we were on, and when we told him, he just laughed. There was a mix of snow and sleet falling and they were cancelling flights across the board. Ours was still scheduled to go, so we got our boarding passes, our airport dinner, and then went to the gate where we waited for an hour and a half with an exhausted toddler before they cancelled our flight (and sent our luggage on to Phoenix anyway). And with no available seats to Phoenix on any flight on Saturday, we weren't able to go at all, which was really disappointing.

I am not the kind of person who likes wasting time. It's so frustrating for me because I view time as so precious. And I usually pack my schedule so that I am never idle. So when I wasted all this time this week on these two fruitless endeavors, I was really cranky. What was the point? I thought. How could I have done things differently so that this wouldn't have happened. I was kicking myself for having wasted so much time and for having gotten nothing for it. Or so I thought.

Perhaps this week was a lesson in waiting, in patience, in the blessing of wasted time. Now I wouldn't go so far as to say that God arranged this week's events intentionally to slow me down. I think God would like me (and all of us, really) to relax and stop moving at a breakneck pace--it's the whole reason why God commanded us to observe a Sabbath--but I don't think God is going to make me do it. It's my choice--free will and all that. But I have another choice, too. I have the choice between getting mad and frustrated and irritated and stewing about wasted time, or of viewing these two experiences as a sign that I need to slow down, to appreciate the moments and days that are fleeting by. To appreciate people, relationships, life, the world around us.

Even the best laid plans sometimes go ary and there's not a thing we can do about it. Sometimes we are forced to wait, or turn around, to waste time. But I am trying to look more carefully at how I spend my time, and how I view time in general. It's possible that there's no such thing as "wasted time." During those hours waiting for that hearing, I got to talk with a lot of interesting people, and I got some reading done. During our wait at the airport, we got to meet the former Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor and I got to knit, and then I ended up with a free Saturday that I got to spend with the two people I love best in the world.

Maybe there's no such thing as wasted time, unless, of course, we mean the time we spend wishing we could be somewhere else, doing something else.

Wedding Blessing

I recently had the privilege of giving a wedding blessing for a unique couple. Jeremy and Kristina were married more than two years ago in London, but since she has Ukranian citizenship, she only just last month received her visa to come and live in the US. They met through an internet dating site and began chatting on-line with each other, then they started talking on the phone every day. In 2004, Jeremy went to London to meet Kristina for the first time face to face, and he proposed to her. They were married in a civil ceremony because Kristina's priest wouldn't officiate the ceremony. So when she arrived here and Jeremy's parents wanted to throw a reception for them, they wanted a clergy person to come and bless their marriage, and I was invited to give the blessing by a member of Woodside who is a close friend of the family.

The story of Jeremy and Kristina's meeting, on-line courtship, trials with immigration and the church are all pretty interesting and pretty uncommon, at least in my experience. But there's one more thing about this couple that's different from other weddings I have been a part of. Kristina and Jeremy both have cerbal palsy. Although they have the same disAbility, it affects them each differently. Kristina uses a wheelchair to get around, but Jeremy, with the help of crutches or a walker, can walk pretty well. Jeremy is severely visually impaired, but Kristina can see.

Any good marriage is based on the willingness of each partner to support the other through difficulty, to complement each other's weaknesses, and enhance each other's gifts and strengths. And in this way Jeremy and Kristina are just like every other couple whose marriages I have joyfully blessed, and their well-suitedness for each other is an inspiration. Congratulations, Jeremy and Kristina. May God bless your life together!

Interfaith Dialogue

Our Confirmation class is participating in an interfaith program called "Children of Abraham" with other middle school students who are Jewish and Muslim. From what I can see, thus far it's been a great experience for our confirmands--a chance for them to learn about other faiths while also growing into their own. In addition to the program for the youth, the organizers have also developed a parallel program for the parents and other adults, which I went to for the first time on Saturday evening. I learned a lot--a lot of facts that I didn't know, especially about Islam, but I learned the most, I think, just from the interactions.

There were five of us Christians (all Methodists), two liberal Jews and two Muslim women. That's pretty much how the students break down, too--about half the group is Methodist, and the other half is about equally divided between Muslims and Jews. I was thinking about this lopsidedness on the part of the Christians and I think it's because for us interfaith dialogue isn't all that risky. We are the majority religion in this country, numerically, but in other ways, too, and for us, we don't have much to lose.

But what I noticed, particularly with the Muslim women, they seemed to be taking a big risk. Since September 11th, Muslims in this country (and in most of the world, really) have been put under a microscope. Sometimes the motivation to look more closely has been positive, like in this program, because we want to learn more about this religion and join together with moderate Muslims to combat fundamentalism of all kinds.

But other sorts of scrutiny are less benign. Especially since September 11th, many people have begun to look at Muslims with suspicion, fear, even hatred. And sometimes in these interfaith dialogues moderate Muslims are expected to speak for the whole faith, to respond to, even take responsibility for fundamentalists and terrorism.

It seemed to me that there was some fear about this kind of scrutiny on the part of our Muslim participants. They seemed reticent to talk, to share, to fully participate. During one exercise when we were asked to imagine and draw images of interfaith peace, they didn't do it. I am not entirely sure why, but from the explanation that one of the women gave, it seemed to me that she had a hard time even imagining what interfaith peace might look like. And that made me feel very sad.

Overall, I think that interfaith dialogues are a positive thing. When they are done right, they are hard work, but that's good. We need to work hard at this--the future of our world depends on it.

One of the exercises that the youth did together last Saturday was plant flower seeds. They wrote prayers for peace on the sides of the flower pots and then traded them with each other. They are supposed to tend to these seeds, to nurture them so they will grow. I pray that these will not be the only seed that are planted in them, and that out of this experience will grow peace.

Gift of Peace
Originally uploaded by YardSale.

In case you had lost faith in humanity

Sure, there are lots of reasons to be cynical about your fellow (hu)man. Crime, war, random acts of violence...you name it. We get jaded and begin to think that it's a rare day when people do things that are nice, or selfless, or honest. Well, here's a little thing that helped restore my faith in humanity, just a little bit yesterday.

I was meeting a friend/church member at the Savory in Takoma Park for coffee yesterday morning and I parked at the Takoma Metro Station. I was in a rush (running late as usual) and I jumped out of my car, dashed over to the meter and dropped in my quarter. But when I did it made a strange sound, and I looked down to see that the part that catches and contains the coins (what in the heck do you call that thing? the bank?), well, it was broken. The front of the meter had broken off (or been broken off--who knows) and someone had just set it inside the meter. But the best part was that there was probably ten dollars in quarters in there, and no one had taken them!

When I saw that it was broken, I thought for a split second hey, I could take my quarter back! Just think about all the money I have put into broken meters and lost...It was like those old cartoons with the angel sitting on one shoulder and the devil sitting on the other, offering competing advice. But I was so impressed that so many other people had gone ahead and put their quarters into this broken meter, and that no one had taken this money. I mean it was just sitting there, begging to be carted off to washers, dryers and vending machines. So, I just paid my quarter, and went off to my coffee date. It's a little thing, I know, but the whole experience made me feel a little better about the human community afterall.

U2charist

This is Music - U2 Bono
Originally uploaded by Bemused Capybara.

I recently heard about a worship idea that churches around the world are doing--it's called the U2charist. It started at a church in Maine, when they put together a eucharist service with the music of the rock band U2 and took up a collection for the ONE campaign, a crusade against global poverty and AIDS. U2, and especially their lead singer, Bono, has become known lately for their advocacy on behalf of the poorest of the poor. Last year Bono spoke (or I would say, preached) at the White House prayer breakfast on the need for greater awareness and action on behalf of the world's most impoverished people. But anyone who has listened to their music for a while knows that this passion for justice is nothing new. For years they have written powerful songs about the hope for peace in Northern Ireland ("Sunday Bloody Sunday") about Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. ("Pride (In the Name of Love)") and their passion comes from their grounding in the Christian faith. So listening to U2 in church, while perhaps a bit unconventional, is not in the least bit heretical.

But what does U2, and the fight against global poverty, have to do with the eucharist? There have been some side conversations about communion at church lately--about the way that people feel we ought to do it (with individual servings of bread and juice? or by intinction?), about who should serve it (anyone? or only the pastor and people who are specifically "trained" for it?) and about what it means (the questions here are less clear, however...). When we celebrate holy communion, it is a reenactment of the last supper that Jesus had with his closest friends. Through the symbols of bread and wine, Jesus tried to explain what his death and resurrection were going to mean--that through his sacrifice all the world would be offered redemption for their sins and new life. When we participate in the eucharist we are made one with Christ and one with each other. It is not how we take communion that's significant, but rather what happens when we do. We are healed from our brokeness, reconciled with one another, and called to new life in Christ. Transformation is inherent in the sacrament of communion. So of course a call to justice, a call for liberation and healing for the world's poor, and music that awakens our conscience and our soul could, no, should be part of a eucharist service. Why not?

So, coming soon to Woodside...the U2charist?

The Secret of the Gifts

The Secret of the Gifts: A Story by Paul Flucke

The story has been told for centuries now. The story of Gaspar, Melchior and Balthasar, and the gifts they brought to the newborn king. And of how they saw the star and followed it for weeks across mountain and valley and desert. In stately procession on their swaying beasts, the came and placed their treasures at the feet of the infant Savior.

And what were their gifts? Ah, you say, everyone knows that. They brought gold, frankincense and myrrh. So, since the earliest of days, the story has been told.

But there you are wrong. The story in incomplete. You see the story was told by those who had seen the wise men on their journey. And by those who stood in wonderment as the wise men dismounted from their weary camels and strode to the door of the rude stable. They watched as the wise men held their jeweled caskets high before them. That much the world saw. So the story has been told.

But that is not the whole story. And if you listen carefully and very quietly, you shall hear the rest of it. You shall hear what happened when the wise men entered the stable. And you shall learn the secret of the gifts.

Gaspar

The first of the three visitors to approach the stable was Gaspar. His cloak was of the finest velvet, trimmed with flawless fur. At his waist and throat were clusters of gems, for Gaspar was a wealthy man.

Those who watched saw only that he paused at the stable door. "He prays," they whispered to one another as they saw Gaspar's lips move. But they were mistaken. They could not see that it was the angel Gabriel, guarding the holy place, before whom Gaspar stopped.

"And who are you?" Gabriel asked in a voice that was firm but not unkind.

"I am Gaspar, and I come to worship the king," he replied.

"All who enter here must bring a gift," said Gabriel, "have you a gift?"

"Indeed I have," said Gaspar, and he held aloft a finely wrought box. It was small, yet so heavy that his arms could hardly raise it. "I have brought bars of the finest gold."

"Your gift," said Gabriel somberly, "must be the essence of yourself. It must be something precious to your soul."

"Such have I brought," answered Gaspar confidently, the hint of a smile upon his lips.

"So shall it be," said Gabriel. And he too smiled as the held the door for Gaspar to enter.

And there before the rough board wall of the stable, lay the king he had traveled so far to see. The light of the lamp fell across the tiny face and glinted back from the dark, bright eyes. In the shadows sat the parents, motionless and silent. And beyond them, Gaspar sensed the presence of sheep and oxen who stood their reverent watch.

Gaspar advanced a step and then another. He was just about to lay his gold before the child when he stopped and stood erect. There in his outstretched hand lay not gold, but a hammer. Its scarred and blackened head was larger than a man's fist. And its handle was of sinewy wood as long as a man's forearm.

But, but--" Gaspar stammered as he stared, dumbfounded, at the heavy tool. And then softly, from behind him, he heard the voice of Gabriel.

"So shall it be, and so it is," said the angel, "You have brought the essence of yourself."

Gaspar turned indignantly. "A hammer? What foul magic is this?"

"None but the magic of truth," replied Gabriel. "What you hold in your hands is the hammer of your greed. You have used it to pound wealth from those who labor so that you may live in luxury. You have used it to build a mansion for yourself while others dwell in hovels. You have raised it against friends and made them into enemies--and against enemies to destroy them."

And suddenly Gaspar knew the truth. Bowed with shame, he turned toward the door to leave. But Gabriel blocked his way. "No, no," he said, "you have not offered your gift."

"Give this?" Gaspar blurted in horror, looking at the hammer. "I cannot give this to a king!"

"But you must," Gabriel replied. "That is why you came. And you cannot take it back with you. It is too heavy. You have carried it for many years, and even now your arms ache with its weight. You must leave it here or it will destroy you."

And once again Gaspar knew the angel spoke the truth. But still he protested, "The hammer is too heavy," he said, "Why, the child cannot lift it."

"He is the only one who can," replied the angel.

"But it is dangerous. He might bruise his hands or feet."

"That worry," said Gabriel, "You must leave to heaven. The hammer shall find its place."

Slowly Gaspar turned to where the Christ child lay. And slowly he placed the ugly hammer at the baby's feet. Then he rose and turned to the door, pausing only for an instant to look back at the tiny Savior before he rushed outside.

The waiting world saw only the smile that wreathed Gaspar's face as he emerged from the stable. His hands were raised, as though the wings of angels graced his fingers. That much the world saw, and so the story is told.

Melchior

Net to step to the door of the stable was Melchior, the learned Melchior. He was not so resplendent as Gaspar for he wore the darker robes of a scholar. But the length of his beard and the furrows of his brow bespoke of once who had lived long with the wisdom of the ages. A hush fell over the onlookers as he too paused before the door. But only Melchior could see the angel who stood guard. Only Melchior could hear him speak.

"What have you brought?" asked Gabriel.

And Melchior replied, "I bring frankincense, the fragrance of hidden lands and bygone days."

"Your gift," cautioned Gabriel as he had done before, "Must be something that is precious to your soul."

"Of course it is," restored Melchior.

"Then enter, and we shall see." And Gabriel opened the door.

Melchior stood breathless before the scene within. In all his many years of searching for elusive Truth, he had never sensed such a presence as this. He knelt reverently. And from beneath his robe he withdrew the silver flask of precious ointment.

But then he drew back and stared. The vessel in his hand was not silver at all. It was common clay, rough and stained as might be found in the humblest cupboard. Aghast, he pulled the stopper from its mouth and sniffed the contents. Then he leapt to his feet only to face the angel at the door.

"I have been tricked," he said, spitting the words with fury, "this is not the frankincense I brought!"

"What is it, then?" asked Gabriel.

"It is vinegar!" Melchior snarled as though it were a curse.

"So shall it be, and so it is," said Gabriel, "you have brought what you are made of."

"You are an angel of fools," Melchior snorted.

But Gabriel went on. "You bring the bitterness of your heart, the soured wine of a life turned grim with jealousy and hate. You have carried within you the memory of old hurts. You have hoarded your resentments and breathed on sparks of anger until they have become as embers smoldering within you. You have sought for knowledge. But have filled your life with poison."

As he heard these words, Melchior's shoulders dropped. He turned his face away from Gabriel and fumbled with his robe, as though to hide the earthen jar. Silently he sidled toward the door.

Gabriel smiled gently and placed his hand on Melchior's arm. "Wait," he said, "You must leave your gift."

Melchior sighed with a pain that came from deep within him. "How I wish I could. How long have I yearned to empty my soul of its bitterness. You have spoken the truth, my friend. But I cannot leave it here. Not at the feet of love and innocence."

"But you can," said Gabriel, "and you must, if you would be clean. This is the only place you can leave it."

"But this is vile and bitter stuff," Melchior protested. "What if the child should touch it to his lips?"

"You must leave that worry to heaven," Gabriel replied. "There is a use even for vinegar."

So Melchior placed his gift before the Savior. And they say that when he came out of his stable, his eyes shone with the clearest light of heaven's truth. His skin was as smooth as a youth's as he lifted his face to gaze on horizons he had never seen before. And in that, at least, the story is correct.

Balthasar

There was yet one more visitor to make his offering. He strode forward now, his back as straight as a tree, shoulders firm as an oaken beam. He walked as one born to command. This was Balthasar, leader of many legions, scourge of walled cities. Before him, as he grasped it by its handle of polished ebony, he carried a brass-bound box.

A murmur ran though those who watched as they saw him hesitate before the door. "Look," they whispered, "even the great Balthasar does obeisance before the king who waits within."

But we know that it was Gabriel who caused the warrior to pause. And we know too the question that he put.

"Have you a gift?"

"Of course," answered Balthasar. "I bring a gift of myrrh, the most precious booty of my boldest conquest. Many have fought and died for centuries for such as this. It is the essence of the rarest herb."

"But is it the essence of yourself?" asked Gabriel.

"It is," replied the general.

"Then come," said the angel, "and we shall see."

Even the fearless Balthasar was not prepared for the wave of awe that struck him as he entered the holy place of the Christ child. He felt a weakness in his knees such as he had never known before. Closing his eyes, he knelt and shuffled forward through the straw in reverence. Then bowing until his face was near the ground, he slowly released his grip upon the handle of the box and raised his head and opened his eyes.

What lay before him at the baby's feet was his own spear. Its smooth round staff still glistened where the sweat of his palms had moistened it. And the razor edges of its steely tip caught the flickering light of the lamp.

"It cannot be!" Balthasar whispered hoarsely. "Some enemy has cast a spell."

"That is more true than you know," said Gabriel softly from behind him. "A thousand enemies have cast their spell on you and turned your soul into a spear."

"You speak in riddles," cried Balthasar, turning to face the angel. "I'll teach you not to jest at a time like this." And he raised his fist as if to strike.

Gabriel did not flinch as he continued. "Living only to conquer, you have been conquered. Each battle you win leads you only to another with a foe yet more formidable."

"Do you think I like to kill?" demanded Balthasar. "You angels know nothing of this world. I am the defender of my people. Were it not for my spear leading them in battle, we should have been destroyed long ago. Why, even now, the enemy is massing to invade us. As soon as I leave this holy place, I must raise more armies. I must buy more spears to arm them and--"

"More," Gabriel interrupted quietly, "than what?"

"Why, more than we have now. More than our enemies have."

"And what will they do then?" asked the angel softly. "Will your enemies too need more?"

Balthasar heard the angel's words and they seemed to echo in the deepest places of his soul as though vaguely familiar. Was the question one that he had sometime asked himself? Was it that faintest flicker of doubt, quickly stifled by one who did not dare to doubt?

For a moment, Balthasar hesitated. Then taking control of himself, he reached down and grasped his spear--and turned toward the door.

"I cannot leave this here," he said. "My people need it. We cannot afford to give it up."

"Are you sure," asked Gabriel, "that you can afford to keep it?"

"But our enemies will destroy us if we drop our spears," Balthasar replied impatiently. "We cannot take that risk."

"Yes, it is a risk," Gabriel replied slowly. "But your way is a certainty--a certainty of spears."

Once again, Balthasar hesitated. And once again, the sweat of his palm moistened the smooth shaft of the spear. But now the beads stood out on his forehead as well, as the force of Gabriel's words did battle with centuries of warrior instinct.

A long moment passed. Finally Balthasar loosed his grip, and the spear dropped toward the floor. But as he looked at the child at his feet, he whispered anxiously to Gabriel, "But here? Is it safe to leave it here?"

The angel released a long-held breath as he whispered back, "This is the only safe place to leave it."

"But he is a child, and the spear is sharp. It could pierce his flesh."

"That fear you must leave to heaven," Gabriel replied.

And they say that Balthasar went calmly from the stable, his arms hanging gently at his sides. They say that he walked first to Gaspar and Melchior, where they waited and embraced them as brothers. Then turning to the others who watched, he went first to one and then to the next, enfolding each in his outstretched arms as one greeting beloved friends who he has not seen for a very long time.

That, at least, is how the story has always been told. And it is true, as far as it goes. But you have listened well, and now you know the whole of it.

Now you too may kneel before the Christ child to leave at his feet those unseen, secret things that may be left nowhere else but there. And having visited the holy place, you too, like those three visitors of old, may go on your way made new.

But what of their gifts, you ask? What of the hammer and the vinegar and the spear? Well, there is another story about them and how they were seen once more, years later, in fact, on a lonely hill outside of Jerusalem. But do not worry. That is a burden heaven took upon itself, as only heaven can. And will, even to this very day.

(Reprinted from The Secret of the Gifts, Intervarsity Press, 1992)

Message Received

prayer
Originally uploaded by kimxtom.

Lately I have been getting the message from God that I need a more disciplined spiritual life. That has been a hard thing for me to admit to myself since I am a professional praying person. However, although I spend a good bit of time praying with and for other people, lately I haven't spent a lot of time with God on my own.

The first sign came to me when I was teaching an adult Sunday school class on prayer. The ifrst class was about prayer and worship, and I had lots of ideas for that. But the second class was about personal prayer and devotion and as I was getting ready for the class, I realized I had a lot less to say here. I tried to rationalize it: it's a personal thing, everyone prays differently. But the thought came to me then: maybe you don't feel comfortable talking about this because you don't do it enough yourself.

Then I had a "coaching call" with my District Superintendent. I mentioned that my personal prayer life and self-care were kind of lacking at the moment, and he was very helpful and supportive, telling me, whatever you are able to do is good--it's better than nothing. I felt better, less guilty, but after a while that nagging feeling came back. There is something missing in my spiritual life...

Then last week I went to the last meeting of the Young Clergy Leadership group that I have been a part of the last two years. The focus of the gathering was on sustaining ourselves and not getting burned out. Several of the speakers talked about the need to maintain a prayer discipline. One pastor put it this way: If we are called to love God with heart, soul, mind and strength, you need to make time every week to nourish all of these parts of yourself. Exercise, fun, time with family, time for study, rest...and pray.

OK. I get it.

So this week I have been trying to make more time for God. I try to get up before everyone in my house so I can have some time alone in prayer. Or the first thing I do when I get to church in the morning is head for the chapel or the sanctuary to read and pray. And you know what? It's working. I feel more at peace, more centered, grounded, connected to God.

We talked about this at Mondays @ Mayorga this week, too. And there was lots of good sharing among the group about ways that they make time for God--going for a jog and making it a time of prayer, making a daily list of 5 things you are grateful for, listening to Christian music or radio in the car or at work, walk a labyrinth...these are all great ways to find time for God in the midst of our busy and hectic lives.

So, however you can do it, I truly encourage you to take some time alone for you and God this week. Talk, listen, journal, read, sing, walk. Whatever works for you. I know from personal experience, it can be hard to make the time, but I am also learning how much it matters, too.

Election Day

vote
Originally uploaded by aughra.

I beleive that voting is an important civic duty.

And today is the first election in 14 years in which I will not cast a ballot.

I know. I should have. I just didn't get my act together in time to get registered in Maryland. But if I'm honest, my not getting registered to vote probably has as much to do with a lack of motivation, fed by my growing cynicism about politics, as it does with my disorganization.

These words of Daniel Berrigan, the (in) famous peace activist and Jesuit priest who spent time in prison for his civil disobedience against government policies on racism, nuclear arms, and most famously Vietnam, resonate with my own feelings today:

I can only tell you what I believe;
I believe: I cannot be saved by foreign policies.
I cannot be saved by the sexual revolution.
I cannot be saved by the gross national product.
I cannot be saved by nuclear deterrents.
I cannot be saved by aldermen, priests, artists, plumbers, city planners, social engineers,
nor by the Vatican, nor by the World Buddhist Association,
nor by Hitler, nor by Joan of Arc, nor by angels and archangels, nor by powers and dominions,
I can be saved only by Jesus Christ.

On his blog "The Journey with Jesus: Notes to Myself," Dan Clendenin adds:

I cannot be saved by George Bush or Jesse Jackson, by Hillary Clinton or Condi Rice, nor by their successors or opponents. I cannot be saved by Green Peace or the ACLU, by Focus on the Family or by Promise Keepers.

I am glad that there are many others who will exercise their democratic privilege today and vote. By all means, you should go vote today. But as you do, I pray that we will keep in mind the words of the Psalmist: "Blessed is the one whose help is in the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord his God" (146:5).

The Power of a Conversation

Few things are more powerful than a conversation. When we have the opportunity to sit down with someone, face to face, to perhaps learn for the first time their name, where they are from, and what's important to them--this I believe is the essential cornerstone of community.

Over the past month I have been trying to have as many one-on-one meetings with people at Woodside as I can. I have been learning more about individuals through their personal stories, but I have also learned more about the history and culture of the church, and it's been wonderful.

So as part of our stewardship campaign, What Gift Can We Bring? (which we launched yesterday and continues through November 19th), we decided (OK, I decided) we should try having one-on-ones in worship. Each week, as a response to the sermon, we will be inviting people to get up out of their pews, find someone who they don't already know, and hopefully someone who appears different to you, and sit down with them for five minutes to discuss a particular question. I wasn't sure how people would respond to this invitation, but yesterday they seemed to love it. The questions we asked people to share about were: For what are you thankful to God? And, What gift do you bring to God that you share in this community? People enjoyed talking with each other so much, that when we started the music for the hymn, it took until the second verse for people to get finish their conversations and get back to their seats.

This church, like most I'm sure, has had a long history of giving to the building, the programs and the vision of the pastor. And that's fine--those are all good things to give to. But I know that the thing that keeps people coming back to a church week in and week out, year in and year out, is our relationship with God and with one another. So, I hope that through these one-on-ones you will get to know some of the wonderful stories that I have had the privilege to hear. And I also hope that as we deepen our relationships with God and with each other, our sense of community will be strengthened. What a gift that would be.

(Last) Monday @ Mayorga, October Edition

Mmm... Coffee
Originally uploaded by SFAntti.

We had another great evening at Mayorga Coffee Factory last Monday. We started with these questions, and then discussed the article below. If you weren't there, you missed a good conversation, but feel free to post your comments and keep it going!

What does it mean--to you--to be a Christian?
Are there certain beliefs, actions, or ways of being that you feel are required of us as Christians?
How do you understand these words of Jesus from the New Testament: "The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent." John 6:29
Do you feel that it’s easy or hard to be a Christian? Why?

The Amish School Shootings: The power of faith, the strength of community
By Duane Shank (Senior Policy Advisor at Sojourners/Call to Renewal)

Part of my job is to read a variety of news sources each morning, and summarize the top stories in our Daily Digest. I’ll confess that there are times when the violence in our world – from Darfur to Iraq, Colombia to the Middle East – threatens me with numbness. Then, there comes a story that deeply affects me.
On Monday morning, the breaking news bulletins began to flash into my inbox of a shooting at an Amish schoolhouse near Paradise, PA, in the heart of Lancaster County. For me, that’s home – I grew up in the county, and for 25 years my parents lived ten miles from that school. My wife’s grandmother was Amish, and we both still have relatives in the area. As more details came in, the shock and grief grew. A heavily armed gunman, Charles Roberts, walked into a one-room country schoolhouse, ordered all the boys to leave, then tied up ten little girls and methodically shot them in the head before killing himself. News stories emerged of state troopers with their uniforms soaked in blood as they worked with medics trying to save lives. Five girls died, and five are still in hospitals in serious to critical condition.
Suddenly, the media discovered the Amish. A quiet, peaceful offshoot of the 16th century Anabaptist movement who have lived in Lancaster county since the early 1700s, living and farming for the last three centuries without the aid of modern technology. I know the countryside where this tragedy occurred. It’s rolling farmland, with not a power line in sight and farmers with teams of horses working the fields. If you ignore the car you’re driving on the back roads, it’s easy to imagine you’re in the 19th century.
I’ve been surprised at the news coverage. The reporters covering the story have understood and written about the Amish in a generally knowledgeable and respectful way. As I’ve read the news, and reflected on the events, two things struck me as having entered into the news cycle that we don’t often see. One is the power of faith and forgiveness, the other the strength of community. In their quiet way, the Amish families and neighbors of these girls showed a witness to the world that it doesn’t see very often.
The power of faith and forgiveness. A pastor who has been with the Roberts family – the gunman leaves behind a wife and three children – told a Lancaster newspaper of being in the family’s home when there was a knock on the door. It was an Amish neighbor coming on behalf of the community. He put his arms around Roberts’ father, and said “We will forgive you.” The pastor concluded: “God met us in that kitchen.”
Also reported was a statement the family of one of the girls gave to the press: “We don’t know or understand why this happened but we do believe God allowed this to happen. The rest of us, our lives will go on. We will try to work together to support and help the families directly involved, knowing that the innocent children likely need help in dealing with this tragedy of their friends, neighbors, and schoolmates.’’ The girl’s great-uncle added, “There is sadness for everybody involved, including the man responsible for this tragedy.’’
One of this morning’s headlines reads: “Amish families hurt, but find way to forgive.” It is a spirit that I don’t often see in the news. A spirit in complete keeping with Jesus: "You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…” (Matthew 5:43-44) And a spirit that is now being sustained by Jesus: "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. … Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.” (Matthew 5:4, 7)
The strength of community. The Amish community is known for its self-reliance. They do not have property insurance, so a community-wide barn-raising is held to replace one downed by fire. They do not hold health or life insurance, relying rather on the community. The news reports this week have told of neighbors, friends and relatives coming to the homes of the families, bringing food and comfort. An AP story quoted a family counselor who was called to talk with the students who had run away: “There is a coming together. That’s how they deal with everything. They come together.” In a time of great grief, there is the strength of family and community.
It is a community that lives by the words of Paul to his churches: “Bear one another's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2) “If one member suffers, all suffer together with it…” (1 Corinthians 12:26) This week, the Amish community is demonstrating to the world the truth of those verses.
What can we do in response to this tragedy?
Pray. For the families and community of the girls who were killed, for the family and friends of gunman, for healing to the girls who were critically wounded, for our society that it learn the ways of peace rather than violence.
Donate. Members of the Amish community have established funds both for the families of those killed and wounded, and for the family of Roberts, who leaves a wife and three young children. Mennonite Central Committee and Mennonite Disaster Service are also coordinating support for those affected.

Recommended Reading:
Simply Christian by N.T. Wright
Amazing Grace by Kathleen Norris

Hard Words for Hard Hearts

broken heart sign
Originally uploaded by sassypants.

I have gotten many comments about this past Sunday's sermon, so I thought I would post it here for others to read. May these thoughts give you comfort, and something to ponder.

Scripture Readings: Genesis 2:18-24, Hebrews 1:1-4, 2:5-12, and Mark 10:2-16

In this sanctuary yesterday I helped celebrate a wedding. A lovely couple stood here, beaming at each other as they exchanged vows and rings. Their families and friends were there and rejoiced with them. There was much talk of love, of commitment, of God. It was a happy, happy day. On this wedding day, all talk about was the hopeful and promising future that this couple will have; all who gathered in this place shared in their big dreams of home and family and everlasting. The wedding was beautiful and joyful, just as they had planned, and that is how is should be.
Our scripture reading from Genesis 2 also speaks of how things should be, about God’s big hopes and dreams for creation. Back in the beginning, the story says, God created man and woman as fitting partners for each other. God made them out of one flesh so that when they marry they will no longer be two, but joined together as one flesh. It was the way that God intended it to be.
But sometimes the marriage is different than the wedding. Sometimes things don’t turn out as we planned, dreams and hearts get broken. Sometimes the heart that gets broken is the heart of God.
I would so much rather celebrate a wedding than preach a sermon on divorce. And you probably feel the same way—that you would rather be at a wedding than here to hear a sermon on divorce. But here we are. And here is Jesus being tested by the Pharisees on the laws concerning divorce, and we need to try and understand what he says to them and what it means for us. So here goes…
Before we can understand what Jesus is trying to say, or even really grasp the question he was being asked, I think we need to look closely at the historical context of this Gospel lesson. The context is very important both to understand the question Jesus was asked and the responses he gave.
First, marriage: Marriage in the first century was much different from our Western 21st century concept of marriage. In Jesus’ time and culture, marriage was an agreement, a contract, between two families. The couple that was married, especially the woman, had very little to say about it and only in the rarest of cases did love have anything to do with a marriage. It was common at that time for men to have multiple wives, because women were viewed essentially as property. In this context only women were guilty of committing adultery, and for the man it was more like buying a used car than our understanding of adultery as marital infidelity. Therefore, because marriage was primarily an economic and social arrangement to dissolve a marriage required for contracts to be amended, involvement from the families, if not the community; and it there needed to be a justifiable reason for the divorce.
Second, divorce: In general, the Jewish Law in the Torah had very little to say about divorce, except for those few verses in Deuteronomy 24:1-4 which says: If a man marries a woman who becomes displeasing to him because he finds something indecent about her, and he writes her a certificate of divorce, gives it to her and sends her from his house, 2 and if after she leaves his house she becomes the wife of another man, 3 and her second husband dislikes her and writes her a certificate of divorce, gives it to her and sends her from his house, or if he dies, 4 then her first husband, who divorced her, is not allowed to marry her again after she has been defiled. That would be detestable in the eyes of the Lord. Do not bring sin upon the land the Lord your God is giving you as an inheritance.
Naturally, there were several religious scholars who had differing interpretations of this text:
The school of Rabbi Shammai said: "A man should not divorce his wife, except where he has found in her a case for indecency, as it is said: --'...because he has found in her an indecent thing' (Deut 24:1).
The school of Rabbi Hillel had a much broader interpretation: "A man may divorce his wife, even if she has burned his supper, as it is said: --'...because he has found in her an indecent thing' (Deut 24:1).
But the school of Rabbi Aqiba had the broadest interpretation of all: "A man may divorce his wife, even if he has found another more becoming than she, as it is said: --"because she does not find favor in your eyes" (Deut 24:1).
Each of these teachers quoted the same verse from Deuteronomy, the same law, which allowed for divorce in some cases, but depending on the interpretation, the application of the law was very different. But they all agreed on one thing: the right to divorce belongs to the man only.

Under Greco-Roman law, women also had the right to initiate divorce, which is the law that Jesus refers to in the second part of this passage when he is speaking to his disciples, but the Pharisees are only concerned about the Mosaic law. In traditional Jewish culture, an unmarried woman who was no longer under the protection of her father, was utterly without status and completely vulnerable. So regardless of who initiated the divorce, a divorced woman would find herself with very few options for survival apart from prostitution.

And there is one other thing going on in the background that we need to understand in order to fully grasp the meaning of this particular scripture lesson. Herod Antipas, the Romanized Jewish ruler of Galilee and Peraea, (the region on the East bank of the Jordan River) had recently divorced his wife in order to marry Herodias, the ex-wife of his half-brother. When John the Baptist criticized Herod for this, his new wife had him beheaded. So if Jesus also goes against the Mosiac law, he will draw the fury of the religious establishment. And if he goes against the Greco-Roman law, he runs the risk of suffering the same fate as John the Baptist.

Knowing all this contextual information helps us frame the question posed of Jesus. It helps us understand the complexity of the issue he was being asked to address, and that Jesus was being set up once again by the Pharisees. It helps us see that in Jesus response he critiques a system that treated women as property and left them vulnerable when they had to choose between an abusive marriage or life as a divorced, and therefore outcast, woman. Jesus views men and women as equals, not just in divorce, but primarily as equals in marriage—a radical concept. It helps us understand that the first century concepts of marriage and divorce were very different from our own.

But in order to understand what this passage means for us today, we must look to Jesus’ response in the context of the wider Gospel message about sin and redemption.

Jesus responds to the question “is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” by going all the way back to the beginning, back to the creation where God established the sacredness and holiness of human relationship. In doing this, Jesus takes the question completely out of the legal realm. This is not about laws at all—whether they are Biblical laws or human laws. It’s about a created order; about a relationship between two people, and their relationship with God. It’s about human sin and brokenness that separates us from each other and from God. It’s about our hard hearts, and how those hard hearts crack and break wide open. And it’s about how God’s grace can help us find healing and wholeness in the midst of our brokenness.

Anyone who has experienced divorce, either personally or as an innocent by-stander, knows how painful it is. I know about the pain and brokenness of divorce because it’s an epidemic in my family: my great-grandparents were divorced, my grandparents are divorced, and my parents are divorced, and although my mom is happily remarried for more than 20 years, but my dad is on his fourth marriage. Two of my dear friends are currently going through divorces. Because I know how complicated, how personal and how painful divorce is, you will never hear me condemn or judge anyone who had experienced a divorce. I was talking with someone in our congregation who went through a divorce years ago and she told me that the hardest part about the whole experience was that she felt that she needed to grieve, but no one would talk with her about it. People either avoided the subject or expected her to get over it. But as I once heard a pastoral counselor say, “Divorce is a death—it is the death of the ‘happy-ever-after’ dream.” Even when there are legitimate, rational reasons for a divorce, even when it’s the best possible resolution to a tragic, or abusive, or loveless marriage, it still hurts like hell.
Even though it might hurt to hear him say it, we need to hear Jesus say, “that’s not the way that God wanted things to be. That’s not God’s desire or hope or plan for us” because we need to remember that because God loves us, God offers us hope and healing in the midst of our pain and brokenness.
We know that in order to find that hope and healing, we have to begin with our own sin. We begin by owning up to our mistakes. We are hard-hearted people, each and every one of us. This does not just apply to marriage and divorce. We know there are many ways in which our sin divorces us from faithful relationship with God and healthy, holy relationships with other people. This kind of divorce is no more or less painful to the heart of God than a legal divorce within a marriage. But when we pray for forgiveness, God’s grace enters into our broken places bringing healing and transformation. That’s at the heart of why we gather together for worship every week—for the opportunity to offer up our brokenness to God, and for God to fill us with grace and mercy.
The spiritual writer Anne Lamott, who is no stranger to pain, was once asked in an interview what she most wanted to convey to her son Sam about God. "I want to convey that we get to be human," Lamott answered. "We get to make awful mistakes and fall short of who we hope we're going to turn out to be. That we don't have to be what anybody else tries to get us to be, so they could feel better about who they were. We get to screw up right and left. We get to keep finding our way back home to goodness and kindness and compassion. . . I want him to know that no matter what happens, he's never going to have to walk alone. . . That's what I'm trying to convey to Sam."
That is the heart of the Gospel message, too. God doesn’t want us to be broken, hard-hearted people, but we are, and God still loves us. God doesn’t want us to hurt one another or break promises or have to go through struggles and pain, but we do, and God still loves us.
You know, all week I have been wrestling with the passage, with it’s meaning and how we are supposed to understand it. I finally thought that I might have an idea that would preach, but there was one thing I just didn’t get. I couldn’t understand why, in the very next moment after this hard teaching on divorce, Jesus is scooping up, hugging and blessing children. I had decided that although it was part of the lectionary selection, I wasn’t going to try and talk about it this morning; I wasn’t even going to read it.
But last night it finally dawned on me -- Jesus’ love and acceptance of these children is actually the key to this passage. We are those hard-hearted people Jesus talks about; but we are also those children. Even when we are broken and flawed and screwed up and hopeless, God doesn’t want us sent away. God wants us right here. Jesus wants to take us in his arms, put his hands on us and bless us. So what else can we say, but thanks be to God. Amen.

Things I Didn't Learn in Seminary

Last week a woman came into the church looking for help and she asked to see the pastor. At first I thought she might need money or a referral to a service agency. That's why most people come in off Georgia Avenue, and that's fine, because that's something we do pretty well around here--make referrals, talk, pray, occasionally give out a little money for food or transportation. That's something I know how to do. But this woman needed a different kind of help. She asked me if I could perform an exorcism. She told me that she was possessed by a demon, and, as if on command her body quivered, she twiched and seemed to involuntarily spit out the name "Jesus."

Now exorcisms are not something I learned to do in seminary. And I do not disbelieve in demons, but they are not a part of my daily spiritual reality (I guess I should be thankful about that). I asked her if she had been to a doctor, but she insisted that it was not a physical problem--it was a spiritual problem. So I told her that I had never performed an exorcism before, but that I would certainly be willing to pray with her. We went into the chapel and knelt before the altar; I put my arm around her and I prayed fervantly. As I prayed, this woman convulsed and shook and cried.

When I finished praying we talked for a bit. She told me about all the things in her life that she thought might have caused her demon possession. She spoke about reconciling with her mother, and getting rid of furniture that she had bought with money given to her by a friend who had been dealing drugs, about learning to read the Bible again and spending time in prayer. And while I may not have a strong belief in demons, but I do have very strong faith in repentence, in the power of prayer and forgiveness, and in the goodness of God to overcome evil. I encouraged her to keep doing that spiritual work and to try and have faith that she would be healed.

As I watched her leave, I wondered if my prayer had helped her at all. Then I went back to my office to work on my sermon (something I actually did learn to do in seminary). I sat down and read the the Gospel lesson for the week, which was from Mark 9:38-50. It begins this way: "Teacher," said John, "we saw a man driving out demons in your name and we told him to stop, because he was not one of us." "Do not stop him," Jesus said. "No one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad about me, for whoever is not against us is for us."

Pretty strange coincidence, huh? I guess I still have a lot to learn...

Hard Sell

Several Woodside leaders and I went to a great workshop at Wesley Seminary on Saturday on Fruitful Congregations. The keynote speaker, Rev. Tom Berlin, is the pastor at Floris UMC in Herndon, VA and a very inspirational speaker. One of the things he said was that during his new member classes he tries to talk people out of becoming members. What he means is that, while the bar for coming to and participating in the church and its ministries is pretty low, to become a member of a church is, and should be, a significant commitment. And we should be up front about that when people are considering becoming members.

So when I had my first new members' class at Woodside yesterday, those words were ringing in my heart. We began the afternoon with everyone introducing themselves, sharing a bit about our life stories as well as our faith stories. Many people shared something about what they are looking for in a church: spirited worship, open hearts and minds and respect for diversity, a commitment to children. One man said what drew him to and excited him about Woodside was that it reminded him of the church he grew up in because when he was there the church was in a growth stage and all the families worked together to make the church great. He said that he thought Woodside, too, seemed to be in a growth period and he was excited to be a part of that.

I took them on a tour of the building and while we walked, I talked about some of the ministries that go on at Woodside. There's a lot to be excited and enthusiastic about right now, and it made me happy to share that with these folks and invite them into it, too. As we walked, many people remarked at how big the building was, and it was as clear to them, as it is to me, that our facility represents our greatest opportunity, but is also our greatest financial burden.

So at the end of the class, when I got the the part about what it means to be a member, I didn't hold anything back. I told them honestly--there's a lot of great things and great people here. You will love the sense of community, the diversity, the opportunities for mission and ministry that are available to you at Woodside. But, it's also going to be hard work. We need people with fresh ideas and energy, people who are willing to give of themselves in every way--spiritually, physically, financially--to be members here. I told them that if they aren't ready for this level of commitment, it's OK. They are welcome to be a part of our worshipping community, take part in classes and ministry opportunities, even serve on most committees without being a member. But if they were ready to jump in, there was a place for them to serve, to help develop the vision and mission of this church.

And something incredible happened. We went around the circle and everyone except one person--ten people--said: I'm ready. They knew what they were in for and they are excited. They are passionate and hopeful and faithful. And I think they will fit in well at Woodside. They will find that there are a lot of other people here who share this same love for and commitment to Christ's church. (And, by the way, I have the utmost respect for the woman who said she wasn't yet ready to join, because she, too understood that this was a commitment not to be taken lightly).

You know, joining a church is not like joining a country club. It's not like signing up for a magazine subscription or tickets to a concert series. If we need an analogy, I guess I would say that it's more like joining a gym. Just being a member doesn't really get you anywhere. You have to go regularly and sweat and be sore and tired sometimes in order to get results. But the result is a healthier life. When we really join a church and give it our all, we ultimately get more out of it. And I believe that a commitment to Christian discipleship lived out in community really does make all the difference in our lives.

Alright then...Let's get to work!

Rev. Mom

When Nora was just a few months old I took her with me to a leadership seminar. At some point I recall that we were asked to introduce ourselves and say something about our ministry. I said my name and where I was the pastor, and that I was currently on maternity leave with this new baby, "not that that has anything to do with my ministry" I added quickly. One of the other women pastors (who also had a baby there with her) said gently, "No... it has everything to do with your ministry."

Perhaps I was just too new at the whole mom thing to get it (or maybe it was sleep deprivation, who knows) but everyday I become more aware of how much being Nora's mom shapes my ministry. This toddler stage, in particular, has taught me a lot that has also been helpful to me as a pastor.

Just a few lessons I've learned lately:

Patience, Patience, Patience. I am not always as patient as I should be, but being a mom has certainly helped me grow in this area. Everything is a learning experience for a two year old, and lots of times they just can't be rushed from one thing to the next. Plus, testing their wills is part of our developing relationship as she becomes her own person. Does that sound like church to you?

Eat your Veggies and Take a Bath. Sometimes we have to do things that we don't like just because they are good for us. And, unfortunately, that's something that doesn't change no matter how old we get to be.

Life is Good. When you look at the world through the eyes of a toddler, there is so much more beauty and joy and love in the world. One of Nora's favorite words these days is "Wow!" Just about everything is "wow" for her, and it helps me appreciate the world around me a lot more. Plus Nora is the kind of kid for whom every person she meets is a potential friend, and that reminds me, too, to see everyone as a child of God.

Remember What's Important. There's always more work to do in the church, but sometimes the most important thing I need to do is read a bedtime story with my little girl.

This past Sunday one of my church members saw me walking around in the sanctuary before the service carrying Nora on my hip and said to me, with a mix of kindness, joy and surprise: "When I saw you with that baby, I thought to myself, I just can't believe that's our pastor!"

Yep, that's me. Rev. Mom.

(Last) Monday @ Mayorga

I always feel a little nervous starting a new thing. I wonder: will people come? and what might happen when they do? will people connect with each other? will they learn, be challenged, have fun?

Well, what a relief it was this past Monday, when we started our monthly coffee & conversation group Mondays @ Mayorga, and it was great. There was a really neat group of 14 people who came, including long time members of the church as well as newer people (even one woman whose first Sunday was last Sunday--that was really cool!). Because it was September 11th, we talked about our memories of that fateful day five years ago and how our lives and perspectives have changed since. There was some very powerful sharing that happened, and one person said that she thought that being away from the church allowed people to talk about things that people don't talk about at church where they may feel more guarded.

So if you missed it, here is the meditation that we used for our first Mondays @ Mayorga. Feel free to post your thoughts below and keep the conversation going. And come join us again on October 9th at 8:00 PM.

Where were you/what are your memories from September 11th, 2001?

How would you finish the sentence: “After (or since) September 11th…”?

September 11, 2006 Meditation by Rev. Vicky Starnes

Psalm 27:1-10, 13-14

The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? When evildoers assail me to devour my flesh—my adversaries and foes—they shall stumble and fall. Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war rise up against me, yet I will be confident. One thing I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: to live in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to inquire in his temple. For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble; he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will set me high on a rock. Now my head is lifted up above my enemies all around me, and I will offer in his tent sacrifices with shouts of joy; I will sing and make melody to the LORD. Hear, O LORD, when I cry aloud, be gracious to me and answer me! “Come,” my heart says, “seek his face!” Your face, LORD, do I seek. Do not hide your face from me. Do not turn your servant away in anger, you who have been my help. Do not cast me off, do not forsake me, O God of my salvation! If my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will take me up. I believe that I shall see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD!

Pondering and meditating: On this anniversary of September 11th, what words from the psalmist bring us comfort and hope years after the tragic events of 2001? What does God desire of us now?

Prayer: Loving God, we remember those who died on this day five years ago. Send comfort and hope to their families and to all of us, as we strive to be your people. Amen.

Recommended Reading:

September 11: An Oral History by Dean Murphy

What Will You Do for Peace? Impact of 9/11 on New York City Youth by Faith Ringgold

The Culture of Fear: Why Americans are Afraid of the Wrong Things by Barry Glassner

Be Quiet

Tonight, after the rain, could you hear the crickets? It was so beautiful. We turned off the A/C, and opened a few windows. Nora was asleep and Marcus had gone to the grocery store. I finished the dinner dishes and made some phone calls. Then I lit a couple of candles and just sat and listened to the crickets.



I don't do that enough. I mean, who really has time most days to just sit around and enjoy the sounds, the smells?

Be still, the voice says, and know that I am God.
But it's the being still part that's so hard for me.
I sit down and immediately all I can think of ten things that I should be doing.

In our staff meeting yesterday, I shared this poem called Let it Heal by Ruth Foreman.
It begins...

Listen to the song and let it tell you how
be quiet be quiet be still
let the angels put their hands on where it hurts and
smooth be quiet be still
ask for prayers around you and bathe in song
be quiet be quiet be still
sit in children's laughter twice a day
be quiet be quiet be still
leave your thoughts for another time
wrap yourself in daylight
knit yourself a friend tighter than you imagined
let good people close to you
move away from those that suck from you
be safe be quiet be still

Be quiet. Be still.
Be still and know that I am God.
Tonight, after the rain, could you hear the crickets?

Katrina Revisited

By the Waters of the Levee
(Inspired by Psalm 137)
by Lyne Stull-Lipps

By the waters of the levee we sit and weep
as we remembered our homes.
Having lost our accordions, our fiddles,
our family pictures, our journals where we recorded the stories of our lives…
we huddle in arenas
waiting for food and water to arrive.

Our rescuers ask us to be patient,
help is on its way,
sing a song to bide the time.
But how can we sing songs,
when all we have,
our past and our future,
is buried in the deluge?

How can we play our Zydeco and our Jazz,
when around us lie the dead and the dying?
Let our hearts sorrow…
in time they will be healed.

We will remember our cities;
we will honor our towns;
we will rebuild our neighborhoods.
And one day, when the crisis has passed,
we will tell again the stories,
and play once more the music of our city.

This was beautifully read as part of our Katrina rememberance service on Sunday by Katie Whitley. Katie is originally from New Orleans, and she took in her brother and sister-in-law, Bill and Evelyn Porter, and Evelyn's daughter and family after Katrina. We heard from Evelyn and from Hildebrand Ebanks, who evacuated from New Orleans and has become part of our church family. We also took up and offering for the United Methodist Committee on Relief for their rebuilding efforts in the Gulf region.

We must not forget the suffering, the need, the injustices. And we also celebrate the stories of hope and healing that have come out of the disaster of Hurricane Katrina this past year.

"The View From the Top of the Mountain"

The most recent Newsweek has a beautiful article about the aging Billy Graham and how time and life and the nearness of death have changed his perspective on many things theological and political. The article is a very brief retrospective on this evangelical icon, but it doesn't shy away from reflecting on his failures as well as his incredible contributions. "Graham's tranquil voice, though growing fainter, has rarely been more relevant." How true that is--and how I wish that there were more religious leaders committed to a message of grace, truth, love and mystery.

One quote from the article that I love:
"It would be foolish for me to speculate on who will be [in heaven] and who won't. [God] gave his son for the whole world and I think he loves everybody regardless of what label they have."

As Jews and Muslims struggle violently in the Middle East, as terrorists misuse Islam to justify hatred and violence, as fundamentalists of every faith seek to define God by their own narrow view--what a powerful idea that is. Yes, the world needs more Christians like Billy Graham.

Sports Hero?

http://abcnews.go.com/Sports/wireStory?id=2250052

Note to self: be careful who your positive examples are in any and all sermons. And be extra cautious when using examples from the world of sports.

A few weeks ago, in a sermon on strengths and weaknesses, (for which the text was 2 Corinthians 12:2-10) I talked about the then-favorite to win the Tour de France, American rider Floyd Landis. I had read a really good article about him in the paper that talked about his Mennonite background, how hard-working and disciplined he was, and what an all-around good guy he seemed to be. I was particularly impressed with this part:

Says Phonak team member Robert Hunter: "In many instances he hasn't been prepared to totally waste the team for his own benefit. . . . He's always thinking of the team's consideration before thinking of himself. Then that makes us say, 'Don't think about us.' " But there's an upside: "A lot of the time the guys end up sacrificing more for him." Still, Landis seems uncomfortable with aiming for his own achievement at the expense of his teammates.

I thought this was a really great illustration for the point I was trying to make--that sometimes the things that seem like weaknesses can sometimes be an opportunity for God to do great things. And sometimes what our culture defines as weakness (humility, sacrifice, service...) is actually where God can make us strong.

Now, in general I stay away from talking about sports in sermons for two reasons:

1) I basically think that our national obession with sports is ridiculous, a waste of time, and a terrible wast of money.

2) Barry Bonds, Kobe Bryant, OJ Simpson...do I need to go on?

But this guy seemed different. A selfless, team player, and a Christian (or at least raised as one). Well, things aren't as they seem I guess. Because last week Landis tested positive for doping and on Saturday it was announced that his second sample also came back positive.

I felt duped. And sad. I had bought the whole Floyd Landis package about him being the next Lance Armstrong and making us proud as a country because he was a great cyclist and a great person, too, but I guess he's just another competitive athlete who will do anything to win, even if it means cheating. He still denys that he did anything illegal, but even if he is able to prove his innocence, his career is over.

And I felt foolish for ever bringing his name into a sermon as an example of someone we might want to look up to.

Upon further reflection, however, I think that the message still stands. In fact, maybe Floyd Landis is an even better example now. You see, when we allow God to enter into our weakness, God's power can be seen more clearly, and the more we try and use our own power to achieve success or glory, the more humbling it will be when we fail. (Particularly if we are in the international limelight when it happens.) People are essentially human--we mess up and let each other down and make mistakes and look foolish. And that's where God comes in. God makes us stronger in our weaknesses, and sometimes humbles us so we can remember the source of our strength, the purpose of our being. And that's equally true whether we are cyclists or preachers.

Life-Raft Friends

This past week, one of my best friends in the world came through town and stayed with us. I first met Erik at an interview weekend for a fellowship at Candler School of Theology--that means that we were competitors for a coveteted chunk of scholarship money. (As it turns out, we both got one, so it was OK.) But from the moment I met Erik, his warmth, faith, passion, even his gross sense of humor made me adore him.

During our first year of seminary we lived just a couple of doors down from each other so we (and our roomates, Amy-Ellen and Jimmy) were practically inseparable. Through Old Testament classes, new romances, break-ups, and Contextual Education, these were the friends that I laughed, cried and sang karaoke with in order to stay sane.

Since we graduated, I got married, became a pastor and had a child, and I guess I have gotten somewhat settled. But Erik had to do two more years of seminary training in New Jersey and then Philadelphia, moved to Atlanta to be with his love and searched for work, broke up with love and moved to DC for a job, moved back to Atlanta and is about to embark on an exciting new journey (finally--yipee!!) pastoring a church in Chicago. During that time we have been lucky to have seen a good bit of Erik when he's in town.

This last visit, he got to our new house late Saturday night and was telling us about his trip. Along the way, he said, the thought came to him: Rachel and Marcus are my life-raft friends. Because when the storms of his life have raged, Erik has often sought, and found, refuge with us.
It's a privilege to be a life-raft for a dear friend, because keeping them afloat brings you up, too. And Erik certainly has been a life-raft friend for me, too. The best thing of all is knowing that you have people like that in your life--people you can depend on, crash with, cry to, laugh with, pray with. Thanks Erik. And thank you, God, for friends like that.