Too Many Tools

This past week has been an incredible time of getting things in order. Jeff’s brother Denny and his wife Jill spent the week with us, using their wonderful gifts of organizing, repairing and installing. They were able to make sense and order of a chaos that overwhelmed, and depressed, me. As Denny sorted all the tools, he commented on how many there are. He’s right. We had tools that were original to us, tools that were given to Jeff by the widow of a man Jeff visited and buried as a pastor, tools that had come from my parents, and tools that had come from Jeff’s dad. Can you say, “too many tools”? There are so many that I had no way of knowing what was in the inventory. Now, thanks to Denny and Jill, they are organized and stored in such a way that I can see them and decide which ones I need to keep and which ones can be given away.

Jeff used to say I was “paper challenged.” I become overwhelmed when there are too many things to sort. Details are not my strongest point, and yet managing a house, a family, a church all require paying attention to details. I am becoming more and more aware that I long for simplicity, and fewer things to manage. It is so hard to face all of it, and know what is really important.

I know that I wouldn’t really be comfortable living a monastic life style, but there are moments I long for the simplicity and order. I long for more “Mary” moments in my “Martha” life.

Luke 10:41-42

But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

Holy Spirit Gifts

With the celebration of Pentecost upon us, I have been thinking of the power of the Holy Spirit to renew and transform our lives. Whether we believe it or not, we have been and are gifted by the Holy Spirit. It is often hard to believe that we have been gifted. We tend to think that we just do what we do rather than seeing that as gift, as something that builds up the Body of Christ.

I give thanks for so many who use the gifts they have been given by God:

• ·      For those who organize activities for the youth
• ·      For those who make music for the glory of God
• ·      For those who invite and welcome others into the life of the church
• ·      For those who give so faithfully to make ministry and mission happen
• ·      For those who help order the administrative life of the church so that ministry and mission can happen
• ·      For those who see a nearly unused plot of ground and make it a garden that will feed others
• ·      For those who give of their time to empty rain drums in the elevator machine room
• ·      For those who create beauty to give glory to God
• ·      For those who teach so that our children will know of God’s grace and mercy
• ·      For those who pray so faithfully for those who need healing and for the church
• ·      And this week I am especially thankful for family who comes miles out of their way to make life a bit more manageable

All of these and so many more are how we see the visible work of the gifts of the Holy Spirit which are poured out on us.

Blow, Spirit, blow your holy wind upon us. Gift us anew, and help us see and use our gifts for your work of transforming the world.

Classic Plot Line

This week I am in Atlanta attending the Festival of Homiletics. What are homiletics, you ask? Preaching. For four-and-a-half days, I am immersed in sermons, lectures about sermons and worship. It has been a rich experience thus far, and promises even more.

Craig Barnes, one of those who preached and then gave a lecture, spoke about the classic plot line from ancient times until today. Orientation. Disorientation. Re-orientation. Life is going along. Whether smoothly or not, it is a pattern to which we have become accustomed. Then some crisis occurs—health, death, war, crime, whatever—and the pattern of life becomes disoriented and we are impelled into an epic journey. At some point, there comes a resolution, a re-orientation where we at least have gained some insight, and maybe even a sense of peace.

On this plotline, the primary interest is in the second stage because that’s where the drama is, that’s where we will make decisions about our life. Will we simply grieve over what we have lost or will we turn towards the new future? Do we simply settle into a new pattern whatever it is or do we reach for hope?

A lot of what I have been dealing with over the past year has been in that second stage of the plotline—disorientation. The patterns of my life changed drastically with Jeff’s illness and death. I don’t know how long this second stage will last. What will the shape of my life look like? I don’t know. I do know that while I grieve our loss, I am also looking forward. This time in the middle is just going to have to be somewhat uncomfortable while I travel the road of disorientation.

I also know, as Barnes reminded us, that Jesus stood outside the tomb and called Lazarus forth into life. It was Lazarus’ choice to move towards life and hope.

John 11:43-44

When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him, and let him go.’

All the Plans

On Monday afternoon, I went to the National Cathedral for our intern Dave’s graduation. Walking from the parking garage to the front of the Cathedral, I encountered a small wrought iron fence enclosing three pieces of stonework. These were chipped portions of the spires that were damaged in the earthquake last August. I remembered how that very area in front of the Cathedral used to be covered with all the stones that would eventually be used to build those towers. I so enjoyed watching the progress over the years as the collection of stones in the yard grow smaller while the towers of Sts. Peter and Paul soared higher. And now some of those very stones are back on the ground damaged.

Then sitting in the Cathedral, I looked up at the beautiful south-facing rose window and noticed that it looked shadowed. Shading my eyes from the glare of the spotlights, I saw that a great black metal mesh has been put in place over the entire interior of the nave and chancel areas. It’s far enough above heads as not to be too intrusive, and yet it’s a reminder of the fragility of even something as substantial as the Cathedral.

It took 83 years to complete this building, which weighs 150,000 tons. The central tower soars 30 stories high. It is a masterpiece of art and craft, bringing glory to the eye and mind of even the most cynical observer. And yet, one earthquake causes enough damage to close it for months, and it will take years to repair.

As I think about this, I am reminded of how all my plans to cover all contingencies that could possibly occur can so easily be brought to naught. I am reminded again of how small I am in the scheme of things. I am reminded that my only security is trusting in God, and that does not mean that I will not fail, or suffer, or die. It simply means that in God who is the Creator and Redeemer of all is the only place I can rest secure at any time and for all time. Not that I shouldn’t make plans and preparations, but I need to keep it all in perspective and not feel so crushed when my plans don’t work out. And this helps me to put even the General Conference of the UMC in perspective. 

Psalm 8:3-4, 9

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established;

what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?

O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!

Let Nothing Upset You

When I was much younger, as a child and youth, I was easily susceptible to tickling. I could quickly end up in a heap on the floor. This made me very uncomfortable. I resolved to change that. Over time, I controlled my reactions so tightly that not much would tickle me.

When I was in college and even in seminary, I remember some times when I wept deeply, almost uncontrollably. Over time, though without quite the same intentional effort I had made about tickling, I became less prone to weeping. I can still choke up with an emotional story, or watching a movie (my boys have always teased me about that), but I find that in close personal situations my tears last only a few seconds.

It could be a way of shutting my emotions down, I realize, but I also realize that becoming victim to my emotions will not help me deal with the realities of life. I recently came across this poem by Teresa of Avila, the 16^th century mystic. I find it to be centering and healing in the midst of turmoil.

Let nothing upset you,


Let nothing startle you.


All things pass;


God does not change.


Patience wins all it seeks.


Whoever has God lacks nothing:


God alone is enough.

Teresa of Avila

Romans 8:31

What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us?