Thursday, December 27, 2012

Watching from the Edge


On the edge.  That's a description of how I realized I felt while sitting at Starbucks the other day. I watched people walk by, and realize that I sit on the edge. I don't mean on the edge as in an anxious place, but on the edge of a group. For much of my life, I have tended to sit and observe.  I don't automatically feel a part of a group, and so find myself surprised when drawn in or included by others. I observe as others speak and interact. I wonder about their lives, what makes them tick, why they act or react as they do. I even observe myself, offering critique while I speak, wondering why I act or react as I do. I gauge what I am saying, and what response there is, making modifications in the moment.

Maybe this is a part of what contributes to my style of leadership. I don't see myself as stepping ahead of a group, leading a charge. While that is a legitimate type of leadership and works for some people, and even on occasion for me, I see myself more at work listeningboth to God and to people-- gathering information, sensing call and direction. I test the waters, refining and making modifications in the very midst of testing.
Snipping away parts of folded paper to make a snowflakethis belongs, that
doesnt. Weaving free-form without a pattern or preset designchoosing what colors work together now, not then.

I know this style of working and leadership can drive straightforward people up the wall at times, as I confess it can me as well, but there are times when we truly need to wait and see where it is that Gods Spirit is leading, and knowing even as we wait that it will be good because it is of God.

As I look to the new year beginning, I know it is a year of discernment for me. I will watch, observe and listen to see how Gods Spirit is leading me. I pray time and patience for you as well in the year to come.



Matthew 24:36
But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

Where Is Joy When the Darkness Presses In?


Joy. Raucous Joy. Quiet Joy. Weeping Joy. Deep Joy.

This past Sunday was the third in Advent, the day when the scripture readings speak of Joy. Zephaniah exhorts: “Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!” (Zeph 3:14) Isaiah proclaims: “With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation…Shout aloud and sing for joy, O royal Zion, for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel.” (Is 12:3, 6)  Paul urges: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.” (Phil 4:4)

“Joy, right!” The world scoffs in scorn, “Look around you, foolish Christians, don’t you see there is no reason for joy--children and teachers shot down; mothers and fathers weeping. And while they sob, our politicians point fingers at each other, accusing the other of recalcitrance, of stubbornness, of willfully abandoning care for the people of our nation. And you say, ‘Rejoice!’ Bah! What reason do we have for joy?”

I am no fool. I am not blind. I see and I hear what is going on around me. I too feel how the darkness presses in. I know the darkness a bit too intimately. I am still stumbling around in my life trying to walk as one where there were two. I ache for my boys as they encounter their own grief and pain. Sometimes we look around us and wonder where is there hope, how can there be a future.

In the midst of this pressing darkness, a light breaks in, flaring up as when Megan and Maclain lit the third candle, holding steady, refusing to be extinguished. The light of the candle can be blown out, but that which it represents cannot. The light of God is not subject to the vicissitudes of our lives. Sometimes our eyes are closed; sometimes our vision is blurred and we find it hard to see the light. God’s light shines in the darkness, and the darkness shall not overcome it.

Bullets cannot wipe it out. Fiscal cliffs cannot end it. Death cannot destroy it. And thus in the midst of the darkness, I cling to the light; I cling to the deep joy and pray that I will allow it to grow within me.

[Recommended reading: “God can’t be kept out” by Rachel Held Evans.]

John 1:5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Community in Silence


Today I sat in mostly silent prayer with two women who awe me with their faith and trust. In silence, not talking with one another, yet we were in community. We were connected to each other through the One who was at our center. After all these years, I still find myself amazed at this mystery.

I used to find silence awkward, needing to fill it. Maybe I needed to fill it in order to justify my presence, or maybe because words could fill the space as a kind of protective suit. And yet, today I felt no need of a protective suit, no need to justify my presence. I could simply sit in community, in silence.

From outside came the noises of children excitedly taking rides on a Santa train; also the loud noises of construction boomed their way across two parking lots. We could hear those sounds inside, and yet even they called us to prayer, reminding us of how connected we are to all of God’s children.

The heartbeat of God our center connects us in a circle of prayer, and broadens that circle to include persons we have never seen and will most likely never meet. How could it be otherwise with the God of all creation who came to be with us as one of us, and whose Spirit lives in us now and always?

Matthew 18.20:
“For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Dark. Simplicity. Silence.


Different images are weaving their way through my spirit this week. “Studying the dark” is this week’s theme in an online Advent retreat I am doing; We are reading and talking about simplicity in our Wednesday night group. We gathered for silent prayer this morning in the Chapel. Dark… Simplicity... Silence...

These images weave their way around my head and my heart, through my spirit. In the dark, sometimes there is fear, but also there is nurturing dark that allows a seed, an idea to germinate. In the dark, I wait for healing sleep. In the dark, I am held in God’s embrace. In the dark, I have a longing for simplicity, for singleness of eye and heart, for the one Good above all good. In the dark, there is silence, silence that is lonely, silence that is full, silence held cupped in my upturned hands.

In the dark, there is room for God to come with hope. In the simplicity, there is space for God to move with joy. In the silence, there are ears to hear God’s music resound.

Dark…. Simplicity… Silence…

Psalm 62.5
For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him.