A surprise visitor for T-day

Just after we finished eating, and I was cleaning up in the kitchen, Andrew went outside and came back in with Aaliyah! What a pleasant surprise. She was here for about 2 and 1/2 hours, then her mommy picked her up. Not walking yet, but cruising well. She ate some cherry crisp with vanilla ice cream, a bit of turkey, and then applesauce.

Thanksgiving

On this Thanksgiving day, I am mindful of how much I have to be thankful for, so many blessings and gifts: my family, my vocation in ministry, my baptism, my health, this congregation, working with the wonderful faithful leadership at Christ Crossman, and on.

I’m sure you can come up with a list of things for which to be thankful today as well.

When Paul wrote to the Thessalonians, he told them to “give thanks in all circumstances.” There’s a big difference in being thankful for things, and giving thanks in all circumstances. I am not thankful for Jeff’s cancer. I am not thankful for war. I am not thankful for griefs. I am not thankful for these things, but I am learning to give thanks in the midst of these things. It’s not even that I am thankful in spite of these things. I am learning that God is with me always, and that I can be with God always. When I open my heart, my soul, to the ever-flowing grace of God in Jesus Christ, there is so much more room within me to experience true gratitude—to receive with true humility.

This day, as we give thanks for all the blessings we know, I pray that we will also be able to give thanks in all the circumstances of our lives, so that we will know more fully the joy of being in a living, loving relationship with the One who has made us, who redeems, and who calls us into the future.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

What Prayer Does

Sometimes we have a tendency to treat prayer as an almost magical incantation that will bring about our heart’s desire, or keep something bad from happening. When I listened at The Nexus to a conversation between Two Really Smart Guys, an atheist who’s a mathematician and a Christian who’s a physicist, I was struck by what was a primary goal of the atheist: to avoid suffering. Granted, he didn’t want just to avoid suffering for himself; he also wanted to eliminate suffering for others. He talked about how prayer doesn’t work because it doesn’t result in what one asks for.

To me, that is completely the wrong way of looking at prayer. Prayer is not about giving us our desires or wishes or even filling our needs. It’s about being in living relationship with God. When I spend time in prayer, I am drawn into a deeper relationship. My focus changes from being about my needs and desires to wanting what God wants.

Throughout Jeff’s treatment, my prayer has been for the best that is possible in God’s eyes. I do not know what healing or curing would be best, so I leave it in God’s hands.

As of the latest CT scan, there is no visible evidence of anything growing. This is good. He is recovering from the debilitating effects of the chemotherapy. He plans to be back to teaching around Thanksgiving. This is all good and I give thanks. I also continue to pray that when (as we have been told it will) the CA re-emerges, we will be strengthened for the journey by all of God’s loving grace.

We Honor Those Who Have Served

Mickey Morris enlisted in the Navy during his senior year of high school. He was only seventeen years old but he wanted to serve his nation. Before he finished basic training World War II ended. He was stationed first on Kodiak Island in Alaska. Actually, the Navy somehow lost track of him, so he wasn’t receiving his pay. While he was able to eat in the mess and had his uniforms to wear, he did not have money for anything else. The Navy had to contact his mother in Alabama to find out where he was. Fortunately, they found him and brought his pay up to date.

Then he was stationed on Okinawa. While the war was officially over, there were still Japanese soldiers who had not yet heard the news and continued to fight. Mickey was honorably discharged from the Navy on the day before his 21^st birthday.

I give thanks for those like Mickey, my father, who have been willing to place their lives on the line for the sake of others. 

Today we remember all who have served in the various branches of the military throughout our nation’s history. We remember those who have been willing to place their lives in danger to help bring about peace. May we honor their service by living our lives with justice and mercy for all. Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called children of God. [Mt 6:9]

Prayers for a young friend and his family

A young adult friend and his family are hurting badly. He had come home from college because of a severe depression. Earlier this week, he tried to hurt himself. He is now in in-patient treatment. Please remember him, his parents and siblings in your prayers.

Milestones

This week we have celebrated a couple of milestones. On Monday, Maxwell turned 14. That day, fourteen years ago, was filled with joy and with fear. After about seventeen hours of hard labor, he was born but he wasn’t breathing. The cord was wrapped around his neck 3 times. The neonatologist and NICU nurse were in the room with us waiting. I remember that I prayed, and cried without tears. His first minute Apgar was a 2. They worked quickly. The labor nurse was the only one who spoke, saying, “He has such long eyelashes.” His 5 minute Apgar was a 9. When he began crying, that’s when the tears came, along with the first verse of “Amazing Grace.”

Also on Monday, Andrew bought a used car. Watching him receive the keys from the seller was such a joy. He drove all of us to Maxwell’s birthday dinner. I am amazed at how much he has grown up lately. He’s working full-time, making sure he gets up and out when he needs to. He’s a good dad for his daughter. Sure, he will still ask for help sometimes, thank goodness. I don’t want to feel totally outgrown!

The song, “Sunrise, Sunset,” from Fiddler on the Roof, has been playing in my head this week. One moment, they are babies; the next, it seems, they are driving away on their own. Like Mary, Jesus’ mother, I treasure the memories in my heart, and give thanks as I watch my boys grow in wisdom along with their years.

I can only imagine that God looks at each one of us, treasuring the moments of wisdom and growth. While I don’t want to anthropomorphize God into merely a super human being, I do believe that for God relationship is very important. The whole purpose of Creation, in my way of thinking, is for there to be “more” relationship. God has so much love, is so much love that the impetus is for more creation to receive that love.

Listen

I confess that it is so easy for me to get worked up. Over the years I have found that my tongue can move far more quickly to speech than it should. Do you know what I mean? Do you ever find yourself saying something that you regretted almost as soon as it was out of your mouth -- words that hurt; words that bind; words that do not build another up or offer encouragement?

Great advice over the years has been that slow count – 1, 2, 3, 4 …9, 10. It is helpful but sometimes it’s not enough. Quick words without enough thought can lead to more quick words, which can lead to increasing irritation and anger.

James’ advice is to be quick, yes, but quick to listen. Taking time to listen can teach us a great deal. Listening--without getting our next speech ready. Listening—to hear what lies behind or underneath the words. Listening—to the depths of another’s heart. Listening—to how God’s Spirit is moving in and through us to be a witness of grace.

Be quick to listen, and then slow to speak. When I am impassioned, or angered, my words can come out like barbs. When I take time to listen, and then ponder what I hear before my words take shape, there is more space to allow God to dwell in the silence and in the words.

Oh, to be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slower yet to anger. It is seldom that anger is truly righteous anger. When I feel the anger begin to rise, or rush to burst forth, the best thing I can do is to say out loud, “I need to go think,” “I need to cool down,” “I’ll be back and then we can talk.” Physiologically, when anxiety and anger begin to take over, our higher functions of reasoning begin to be overpowered by our more primitive instincts. Taking time to cool down allows the adrenaline levels to lower, which helps us think more clearly, and which allows us to hear God’s Spirit at work within us.

Questions

My father gave me a great gift.  Daddy always said that questions are important. “If you don’t ask,” he would say, “you have only one answer.” At other times he would say, “If I stop asking questions, I’ll stop growing, and I’ll be dead.” In many ways, my father had a very simple faith and yet he never discouraged me in asking questions. Driving home from church as a kid, I would start talking about something in the sermon or from our Sunday School lesson and ask questions.

Becky’s professor of systematic theology, Dr. Beverly Mitchell, is my partner in facilitating one of the groups of seminary interns. She says, “I serve a God who can handle the questions.” I figure if I am asking questions and honestly seeking answers then I am staying in relationship. I think God honors that. I don’t have to have all the answers sewn up into a neat package. I don’t have to understand it all. Sometimes I feel like I need certitude, especially when things are shifting around me, but some of the greatest growth comes for me when someone asks a question that shakes me, that makes me stop and think. It helps me think about what is most important.

What is most important is that I give thanks for the questions. I especially give thanks that our God is big enough, vast enough, to provide mystery and allow our imaginations to play. This God who in some awesome way is Three-in-One enters into the dialogue and helps to open me up to keep growing in loving relationship with God and others.

Worries

“What? Me worry?” Mad Magazine’s Alfred E. Neuman would say. Bobby McFerrin sang, “Don’t worry, be happy.” Pumba & Timon sang, “Hakuna matata,” in The Lion King.“ That’s Swahili for “no worries for the rest of life.”

Oh, that might be nice if I could just turn off the worry machine, but I’m afraid that just doesn’t work. I have concerns. I have a lot of details that need looking after. So I have worries. Normal household worries. Normal parent worries. Normal job worries. Add to those now, worries about health, about chemo outcomes. Will or when will this metastasized cancer pop up again in Jeff?

When Jesus told his disciples not to worry, I don’t think he meant a kind of amnesiac version of not worrying. He ended the whole thing by saying, “strive first for the kingdom of God and God’s righteousness…” God knows that we have concerns over the details of our lives. These concerns are not unimportant, but the question becomes--do these concerns take over our lives so that we have no attention left for what is most important?

It can be especially hard when I wake in the middle of the night with my brain whirring 1000 mph, when the worries and details seem overwhelming. That’s when I can “turn my eyes upon Jesus.” If I can keep my eyes turned to Jesus, then all else will find a way into balance, the worries and details need not overwhelm me. They can assume their appropriate place of being a part of living a life of God-graced purpose.

And so, instead of saying, "What? Me worry?" I pray, "Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner." Instead of singing, "Don't worry, be happy," I sing, "The Lord is my light, my light and salvation. In God I trust, in God I trust." Instead of humming, "Hakuna matata," I mouth the words, "Turn your eyes upon Jesus. Look full in his wonderful face..."

Happy would-have-been-83rd birthday, Daddy!

 Thanks be to God for my father who was born 83 years ago today. He died in 1992 at the age of 64. We miss him very much.

This was Mickey Morris when he was a young sailor.This was a double exposure taken when he was stationed on Kodiak Island.

Here he was a young lad.

My daddy with me at my cousin Joan's wedding in August, 1974.

What is most important...

Sometimes, my life gets so focused on tasks that need to be accomplished that I can become either myopic-concentrating on the near at hand-or so far-sighted that I miss what is up close. Now these tasks that claim my focus are not unimportant. Besides some of the day-to-day tasks of making a home for a family, dealing with health issues, there are also the details of being a part of the ministry of Christ Crossman UMC-planning for worship, preparing to preach, visiting, praying, teaching.... These are all important, however sometimes I need to be brought out of that intense focus. This morning, a fortuitous greeting brought me that relief.

Two-year old R came to the office with his mom, K, while she was a volunteer counter. Now I have known R his whole long life, but have never gotten to be with him for any length of time. I was surprised when he reached out his arms for me to hold him, and without any prelude, gave me a kiss. He said he liked the rain, and then he snuggled in on my shoulder. We went into my office where he drew roads and colored tracings of his hand.

Thank you, R, for reminding me of what is most important this morning.

If for any moment we forget that Jesus came to give us life, all we have to do is be with a child, in their space, for just a few minutes, and gain a deeper perspective. Our God did not and does not look upon us from afar, but came to be with us in the midst of life, offering us the undeserved, unmerited kiss of grace.

If onlys

A few weeks ago a friend posted this status on Facebook: "If only, if only, if only...I'm not sure if those 2 words are the healthiest...." She meant it about wanting the parmesan cheese to be put in the same place consistently, but it really caught my eye, and my mind. I have been thinking quite a bit about this lately. I find it so easy to say, "if only," when something does not go my way. If only the boys would pick up after themselves... If only that driver would go faster/slower... If only things had gone differently...If only Jeff's cancer hadn't metastasized... If only, if only, then the world would be perfect, right?

When we say, "if only," we are often engaging in wishful thinking--wanting someone else to be who and what we want them to be, not themselves at all. We want situations to go our way.
I find when I get into an "If only" kind of place, then I stop seeing someone for who they are with all the possibilities God has for them; I stop relishing the moment that God has given me. When I start saying "if only," then I'm cutting off my ability to live within the flow of God's grace.
When I come to an "if only" place, I hope to learn to say the Jesus prayer instead: "Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner."

Do you have "if only" moments too?

Serving in ministry with the people of Christ Crossman is a deep privilege for me. You teach me so much about faithful living in the midst of difficult times. The fellowship that we share as we serve together is beyond all gold and silver.

The First of the Next Generation in our Family

Here is baby Adrian with his grampa, my brother Bill. Thanks be to God for his safe arrival, for his dad Ben, and his mom Lisa.

The Difference between Wishing and Hoping

Eugene Peterson, in Living the Message, Daily Help for Living the God-Centered Life (p. 290, Harper One, 1996), makes a really helpful distinction between wishing and hoping. "Wishing grows out of our egos; hope grows out of our faith. Hope is oriented toward what God is doing; wishing is oriented toward what we are doing...Wishing is our will projected into the future, and hope is God's will coming out of the future. Picture it in your mind: wishing is a line that comes out of me, with an arrow pointing into the future. Hoping is a line that comes out of God from the future, with an arrow pointing toward me."

In talking with Jen, our resident bridge between the worlds of faith and science, I have begun to see this at work in creation. In God, there is really no time. For us limited finite creatures, we experience God at the beginning giving the push that began all of creation. We experience God in the midst of creation as the incarnated presence redeeming creation and as the Spirit who touches us with grace. And we experience God pulling us towards the fulfillment of all creation, which for us is in the future, though for God, it exists now and eternally.

While it may not seem to make much difference to our everyday, practical lives, it actually makes an incredible difference. How we live and experience the present moment is very different when we are hoping that things could or would be better rather than living in expectation, "anticipation of what God is going to do next."

This is a part of why my prayer is not for God to bless what I am doing, but that I may be a part of what God is blessing, since that is actually a part of the pull of the fullness of creation in God.

Mickey Morris

Today, October 9, would have been my father's 80th birthday. What can I say about my champion?

He was the youngest of three children of Wallace Elmer Morris & Marie Hauerwas. He was a devoted husband and father. For several years he had to travel a great deal for work. It was hard on all of us, but it was very important to him that later we knew, especially my brother, he had always been faithful to my mother when he was away.

He delighted in finding gifts for my mother. He would buy them almost all year long, and wrap each one of them up for Christmas. He would pick up the presents from under the tree and very gently weigh it, rock it and see if he knew what it was.

I remember speech lessons with my father. I had had recurring tonsilitis from very early (6 weeks old) until they were removed when I was about 3 or 4. Evidently this problem had caused some difficulty with pronouncing certain sounds. I can remember one of these speech lessons quite clearly. I had come in from playing outside and asked if I could have a "piece of tate" (cake). I didn't get my piece of cake, or go back out to play for quite some time. I sat on the footstool between my father's knees as he taught me to pronounce words correctly. He wasn't harsh, just firm.

In the Fall of 1990, when my older son was just a baby, Daddy was diagnosed with Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or Lou Gehrig's Disease. It is a terrible affliction. Normally, those who suffer from ALS die 3-5 years after diagnosis, but Daddy died only 21 months later.

Some Mickey-isms:
--If you don't ask, you only have one answer.
--To screw a lid, or a faucet cap on, start by screwing it backwards until it finds its groove, then it will go on easily.
--Use your elbow grease when you sweep (or do any chore).
--If I ever stop being a boy, I will be dead.

Thanks be to God for Mickey Morris!

Looking for green shoots

Yesterday, at our District clergy meeting, Paul Nixon spoke on I Refuse to Lead a Dying Church (also the name of his new book). Paul is seeking to plant a new church called Epicenter DC based in Arlington, VA.

For years now, we've been hearing from church growth "experts" as if all we need to do is get with the plan (whatever one is current) and our churches will grow. The truth is that we are in a changing world. The world into which many of us were born and grew up is not the world with which we have to deal today. Not only do we have many more technological advances in our lives, but we also face a far more scattered, globalized society. The same thing is true about the church. The church in which I was ordained and sent into ministry is not the church of today. The rapid changes with which we have to deal, the constantly moving "targets" are enough to make some of us wish for the good-ol' simpler days. Yeah, I confess that sometimes I wish things were more constant, more simple, that I could just coast for a while. But that is not our reality.

Paul talked about there being things that we cannot control--such as where we are appointed, the changing demographics of our community, the increasing average age of a congregation, and, oh, so many things. But there is one thing we can do--look for the green shoots. Look for where life is and tend it. Choose life over death.

A New Singer in Heaven

Madeleine L'Engle's voice through her many books, both fiction and nonfiction, has been a song sung for the glory of the Creator. Her work allowed those of us who are bound to the earth to soar about the universe and into the depths of the human body and psyche. Those who would try to narrowly define her work always missed the mark.

Her vision was clear as it found its expression through her pen. She helped us to see how God's amazing love transcends all human limitations.

Thanks be to God for Madeleine! We will miss her. Rest in peace and find joy with those who have gone before you.

Reconciliation

Jesus said, "So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.(Mt 5:23-24 NRSV)"

On Saturday, after a meeting at church, I divined, from a question asked by my lay leader, that I had offended a member. I had talked with her in the days preceding a surgery, and had called afterwards to see how she was doing, but hadn't talked to her, or visited her. I gave an answer to my lay leader, but it nagged at my heart all day long. I didn't sleep well at all. Part of my head was trying to justify my action (inaction), but my heart was grieving for the pain I caused.

She was at the first service on Sunday. I greeted her, but I could tell that she had bad feelings towards me. All during the service, the disquiet in my heart continued to grow, making it difficult to stay focused on the message. At the end of the service, I asked her into my office. As much as that part in my head wanted to offer an explanation or a defense, all I could say was, "I have offended you. I'm sorry." She didn't have to forgive me, but she chose to. Thanks be to God! During the second service, my heart, my spirit was much more free to focus on the Word and the people present.

When our words, actions, or even inactions cause our brother or sister pain or grief, especially once we are aware of it, no matter how hard it may be for us, our spirits will be lessened unless we confess and seek forgiveness. If our confession is received and forgiveness offered, then both our spirits can be freed. If forgiveness is not offered, there may still be grief for us, but we have honestly made a step towards reconciliation. We cannot control how another responds and chooses to act.

I don't like being in the wrong. I don't like being caught being in the wrong, but thanks be to God for those with courage to face us with accountability for our actions.

A Mother Watching

Watching our children grow up is beautiful and incredibly hard. Our older son has always marched according to his own drum. His own personality (ESTP by the Myers/Briggs Type Indicator), when mixed with ADHD & ODD, hasn't always helped him in making wise, thoughtful decisions. Anger has also been a difficult issue for him to deal with. I see hopeful signs, and wait with bated breath to see what will blossom. Our younger son, in playing his Pokemon game, talked this morning about the "bide" attack. If he waits through 2 turns doing nothing, then he can use the combined strength of whatever attacks were used against him during those 2 turns. It's an interesting spin on "bide," but it's also helpful to learn that sometimes it is better when we "bide" our time, waiting to see what will unfold rather than rushing in.

Nurturing towards purpose

Fall is coming! Actually, today almost feels as though it is in the late fall with the rain and cooler temperatures. I know that we will have more heat before we get through September, but it’s nice to know that the seasons do indeed change.

The first thing I notice is that my morning walk is getting darker and darker even though I’m not getting up and out any earlier. The second thing I notice is that our college students have been leaving to begin or return to their studies. Some of the anticipation is excitement, waiting to see what else new will happen. But part of the anticipation is dread, wondering what on earth else will happen now.

As with any gift, change is a two-edged sword. I see my boys growing up and I rejoice in their increasing abilities and independence, but I also think somewhat longingly of the days when they were young enough to want Mom to dry their tears and help them in difficult situations.

One of my purposes in life is to receive these precious gifts of life and help nurture them to become strong and develop their own sense of purpose and vocation in life. Not only is that my purpose with my boys, but it is also my purpose as a pastor.

Each person in C²UMC, in fact each person I encounter, is a precious gift. Part of my purpose is to help the community of faith nurture this gift so that each can develop or continue to develop their own sense of purpose and vocation.

Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life and your journey in finding and developing your purpose and vocation as a part of Christ’s family here on earth.

Psalm 30--A Sermon

Grace and peace be with you this day!
Take a moment right now to remember a time when you found yourself drawn up out of the Pit, perhaps when you thought you were about to meet your end and yet you lived, or when you felt surrounded by foes then were vindicated, or when fear was replaced by joy…
Hold this memory in your heart this morning.

All summer long we have been looking at the Psalms, the songs and prayers of God’s people. We have found psalms that teach us about wisdom, psalms that help us cry out in lament, psalms that remind us of creation, psalms that lead us in praise. Our Psalm today is one of personal thanksgiving, a todah psalm.

It might have been written by David, but it just as easily could have been written by anyone who experienced healing, or redemption from the Pit.

For the Hebrew people, the Pit and Sheol are synonymous. Dennis Brachter reminds us that "in Hebrew thought, Sheol was the abode of the dead, the underworld where people went when they died. Israelites did not have a well-developed concept of an afterlife until after the Babylonian exile. Instead, they adopted metaphors for death from the cultures of surrounding people. Most of these cultures had a mythology that explained death in terms of a story about a journey that the person made underground after death. In these cultures, with the exception of Egypt, there was no concept of a "soul" that survived after death to live in another place. It was merely a way to conceptualize in story form the reality of death and burial.

The mythical stories told of an underworld ruled by gods whose task it was to find rest for the one who died. Of course, the Israelites did not accept the idea of domains of other gods. Yet, they did adopt the language and the metaphor of the underworld to speak of death. In reality, the idea of Sheol or the Pit, simply became a poetic metaphor for the grave and burial. To "go down to Sheol" was simply to die and be buried. The term "soul" that appears in some translations of verse 3 is the Hebrew word nephesh, which in this context simply means person or life.

But even this picture is not quite as straightforward as it sounds. In our more scientific way of thinking, death is a biological function that can be marked at a certain point in time. Yet, in the Israelite thought world, death was a much more extensive concept than biology. Of course, they knew enough to know that when a person stopped breathing, they died. Yet, their conception of death and life extended much more broadly.

Life, far more than simply a biological function, encompassed well-being, happiness, vitality, all the activities that define human existence. Death, then, was any diminishment of that vitality. Sickness, for example, was a form of death, because it diminished the vitality of life, and in a very real sense, was a beginning of death. That was far closer to reality in the ancient world with little medical knowledge and fewer cures than it is in ours." (http://www.cresourcei.org/lectionary/)

Hannah found herself in the Pit. She was one of the two wives of Elkanah. Peninnah, the other wife, had sons and daughters, but Hannah, even though Elkanah loved her best, had none. In Hannah’s day, a woman’s worth was in the children that she bore. Peninnah never let an opportunity go by when she derided Hannah. In her barrenness, Hannah found herself in the Pit.

David, once a shepherd who slew a lion, once a young giant killer, now a king, but a king who took something that wasn’t his. David had taken Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah, for his own and had Uriah positioned to be killed in battle. Now the son that Bathsheba bore him was dying. David was in the Pit.

There was a man who had been ill for 35 years. He kept trying to find healing in the pool of Bethsda when the waters were stirred up, but someone else always got to the water first. This man was in the Pit.

There was a woman of Nain who was a widow. Her only son died. Who was going to care for her? She had no one. This woman was in the Pit.

Sometimes we find ourselves in the Pit for no fault of our own. Life’s circumstances, it seems, have conspired against us. We become ill, enemies surround us, we lose all that is important to us. And yet, there are times we land ourselves in the Pit because of our own actions, like David.

Charles Colson seemed to have it all—special counsel to President Nixon, responsible for bringing special interest groups into the White House policy-making process. Known as Nixon’s hatchet man, Colson was willing to be ruthless in getting things done. But then came the Watergate burglary, and all the cover-up that followed, and Colson’s world came crashing down as he awaited arrest. Colson was in the Pit.

Most of us have been in the Pit at one time in our life or another. Perhaps it was illness, perhaps it was losing a job, perhaps it was the failure of a marriage, perhaps it was the loss of someone we love, perhaps it was because of what we ourselves had done.

The Pit is anything that takes us away from God, from life. And yet our God is one who refuses to bow to the power of the Pit. Our God is the One who is life and who, having created us, seeks to bring us to life.

God heard the cries of Hannah in the depths of her Pit, reached down to her and drew her up. Hannah conceived and bore Samuel who became a prophet for the Lord. After Samuel, Hannah had three more sons and two daughters.
God heard the anguish of David, king and grieving father, and sent to him the prophet Nathan who helped David to see his own sin. Even in the midst of death, God drew David up out of the Pit.

Jesus saw the man who had been ill for 35 years, lying by the Pool of Bethesda for a long time, hoping to touch the healing waters. Jesus reached out to this man in the Pit and drew him, saying, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” And at once he was made well, took up his mat and began to walk.

Jesus saw the funeral procession of the only son of a widow in Nain. He had compassion on her. He came forward, touched the bier, and said, “Young man, I say to you rise!” The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. Jesus reached into the Pit and drew them up into life.

God saw the morass that Chuck Colson had created for himself, the Pit which he had dug. God sent him a friend and a book, Mere Christianity, by C.S. Lewis. Even though arrested and in prison, the Pit had no hold on Colson because God had already drawn him up into life.

In the todah tradition, when we have experienced the Pit and been drawn up, we give thanks but giving testimony to what God has done.

Hear the psalmist’s testimony again, this time from The Message by Eugene Peterson:
1 I give you all the credit, God—
you got me out of that mess,
you didn't let my foes gloat.

2-3 God, my God, I yelled for help
and you put me together.
God, you pulled me out of the grave,
gave me another chance at life
when I was down-and-out.

4-5 All you saints! Sing your hearts out to God!
Thank him to his face!
He gets angry once in a while, but across
a lifetime there is only love.
The nights of crying your eyes out
give way to days of laughter.

6-7 When things were going great
I crowed, "I've got it made.
I'm God's favorite.
He made me king of the mountain."
Then you looked the other way
and I fell to pieces.

8-10 I called out to you, God;
I laid my case before you:
"Can you sell me for a profit when I'm dead?
auction me off at a cemetery yard sale?
When I'm 'dust to dust' my songs
and stories of you won't sell.
So listen! and be kind!
Help me out of this!"

11-12 You did it: you changed wild lament
into whirling dance;
You ripped off my black mourning band
and decked me with wildflowers.
I'm about to burst with song;
I can't keep quiet about you.
God, my God,
I can't thank you enough.

God draws us up. Do we have a testimony of thanksgiving to offer before God’s people?
My testimony: barrenness and now two sons
Do you have a testimony to share?

Dance, then, wherever you may be.
I am the Lord of the dance, said he.
And I’ll lead you all, wherever you maybe
And I’ll lead you all in the dance, said he! (by Sidney Carter)

The Years Go By

Today would have been my in-laws 71st wedding anniversary. I came into the family 29 years ago (I was a mere child when I married). Two years earlier, they had had a big 40th anniversary celebration since no one expected Lucille to live until their 50th because her diabetes was so brittle. Thanks be to God for medical advances and for her tenacity. Lucille died the day before their 68th anniversary, three years ago yesterday.

Finding the Pulse

When I work out at Curves, every 7-1/2 minutes, we're supposed to stop and take our pulse. Sometimes I can find it, sometimes not. Even when I find it, I often have trouble counting it with the beat of the music going on or the rhythmic sound of someone still working out.

Coming back to church after being gone for only 14 days, I feel like I'm trying to find the pulse beat. Of course, in the summertime, the pulse can be a bit erratic anyway with folks in & out. It's as though my heart is singing: "Summertime, and the livin' is easy..." But my head starts running ahead with all the details for getting the fall activities underway. I look at the difference on the church's online calendar. Each Sunday in August has two events: the worship services. Beginning with the second Sunday in September, each Sunday has 6-8 events, and that's before we get everything planned out.

It's good that there's an ebb and flow in the rhythm of church life. Even Jesus followed a rhythm of engagement and disengagement, of activity and of contemplation. I guess that my longing is to find a steady heart beat where the ebb and flow are not quite so drastic, and that can only truly happen by allowing my heart to find its rhythm within the heartbeat of God. It just seems that so many things get in the way of truly finding or living in that beat.

Heat Wave

Wow! Are we ever having a heat wave! It was 78 degrees at 5:30 this morning when I went out for my 4-mile walk. I normally don't sweat easily, but today I was wet by the time I got back home. I'm really glad that it wasn't this hot and humid last Wednesday when my brother-in-law led us up Avalanche, an old ski hill in Boyne City, MI. After a bit of steep slope, we had to climb 428 steps to get close to the top and then continue up the last part of the slope without steps. It was actually a bit cool when we started that hike. Not today!

Thank God for ministries like Safe Havens at First Christian here in Falls Church, where the homeless can come in out of the heat (or cold) for a few hours, and have home-cooked food.

Back at Home

My father used to say that the perfect vacation length was three weeks. The first week he couldn't really relax from the job. The second week, he was able to relax. At the end of the third week, he was chomping at the bit to get back to work. Of course, that was also during the days before cell phones when he couldn't be reached easily with troubles at work.

Churches on the Road

Last week, I went with our son to the church that my father-in-law had served for 9 years, while my husband was in the 2nd through 9th grades. Over the last 29 years, I have attended it from time to time while in IN. There is a new pastor this year, another woman following the last pastor who was also a woman. The current pastor is still in seminary evidently. She did an okay job. Her sermon was adequate. She used an illustration from the movie Seabiscuit about how God does not throw us away when we are wounded. It was a good one. I later made clips from the dvd of it that my sister-in-law has.

Today, my son and I went to the church that my other brother-in-law attends in South Bend. He's still up in MI where we stayed with him this week. This is a new pastor as well, however, he has more experience, having just served as a DS. His illustrations were also good. In addressing the parable where the rich man planned to build bigger barns to hold his wealth, but was to meet his end that night, he gave examples of persons who are wealthy and who have used their wealth to give to others, as well as those who have used their wealth just for themselves, building bigger and bigger barns.

It is hard as a pastor not to critique worship services and sermons. I was aware that in some ways I was "grading" each of these services, but I also tried to simply be present as we worshiped our God who gave everything so that we may live in grace.

Fifteen Years

Today, still on the road, I remember my father who died 15 years ago this afternoon. He had ALS, a terrible disease. He was a man who was always in control, and yet had lost all control of his body. His mind was still sharp up until the moment he died. I have always believed that he probably knew which breath was his last. I was with him up until 15 minutes before he died. I knew that he wanted to go, so my prayers had changed from physical healing or even stopping the progression of the disease. That day as I left my childhood home, I prayed with no words, just an image of God's hand gently holding my father and taking his last breath--the holy breath that God breathed into us in creation--and returning it to God.

Thanks be to God for my father who was and is my champion, who never really understood me, but always loved me. Just as my husband tossed a found golf ball (one of daddy's favorite pasttimes) into the small grove where we scattered daddy's ashes with these words, so I offer them up today and always: "Here's to you, Mick."

Connecting on the Road

I'ts amazing what a better night of sleep will do for us!

After arriving at my sister-in-law's house, yesterday, I called a second cousin who lives close by. I went over for coffee and a chat. Although we met as children, probably at my grandmother's funeral when we were 12, we didn't know each other until three years ago when I ate dinner with her. We're the same age and the same MBTI type. Different paths. Her dad was my father's favorite cousin: my Mick, her Nick. It's interesting how for both of us our fathers were the most admired people in our lives. My father died fifteen years ago on August 4. Her father died about 4-1/2 years ago, shortly after my mother's death. Her mother is still alive, but with Alzheimer's. She has one brother as I do. We both have an awareness that there's not a lot of family left so we need to stay in better contact.

Forgive me, Atkins, for I have sinned. I ate two ears of delicious corn on the cob. Otherwise, I have been doing well resisting the carbs.

Oh, for a good night's sleep!

Three nights on the road thus far. First one was in a bed, but with our son sleeping on an air mattress in the same room. Heard everytime he turned over almost all night. Last two nights on a couch (not a sleep sofa) just wide enough to lay down on.

Even as I write these words of complaint I am aware that I am entirely blessed with so much abundance. There are folks who would think these accomodations were truly palatial, folks who would be grateful for the eggs and bacon at Dig's Diner in Warsaw in the morning. I give thanks for these blessings.

BTW, Dig's is up for auction. We don't know if it will be here next year when we come back.

Travels with Harry

We've had a great trip so far across PA, OH, & IN, listening to Harry Potter the whole way. Jim Dale does an incredible job of making all the characters come alive.

This is a true story of redemption without a sappy moment in it.

On the Road

While 3 of us are on the road, our older son is staying back with a friend whose mom is a member of my church. It's the first time we will have been away from each other for such a long time (2 weeks). I feel like this is a big venture in trust. I know he's in good hands, both human and divine. He's only 16.

I can remember the moment he was placed in my arms when he was just 10 minutes old as the pediatrician said, "He's beautiful, mom." Tears of joy as I carried him into the nursery where his new dad helped give him his first bath.

God truly gives us our children as a trust to love, and in the process learn just how much God loves us and them.

Thanks be to God!

At Long Last!

I was one of those who put Falls Church in first place in pre-ordering Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Wow! What a wrap-up. I won't go into details now so I don't spoil it, but Rowling did herself, and us, proud.

Come, Get a Drink at the Well

As I write, I hear the voices of the children from daycare outside my office window squealing with excitement in their Splash Day. There’s nothing like water for good play times.
I just took our younger son to soccer camp with two water bottles to help him cope with the heat of the day. There’s nothing like water to quench the thirst.
We finally have the kitchen sink and new dishwasher hooked up at home so we can actually clean our dishes in the kitchen rather than in the tiny bathroom sink. There’s nothing like water to get cleaned up.
Our front yard is basically a perennial garden or a meadow, but with the hot dry days some of the newer plants begin to droop. After a rain, or after my husband waters them, they perk right up. Tomatoes are growing larger. There’s nothing like water to keep life going.
A well can be a wonderful source of water, but if it is left idle for too long the well can dry up. During the hot dog days of August, or even during the cold days of winter, and even during the beautiful days of fall and spring, we may have a tendency to neglect the well.
Spending time with God is like drawing water from the well. The water quenches our thirst, keeps us alive, cleans us up, and allows for joy in our life. When we don’t spend time with God, we neglect the source of that life-giving Water and we may well find that we have become dry and parched.
During August, why not use the Psalms as a way of sipping from the well of living water? You’ll find them readily available right smack dab in the middle of your Bible. Or if you like to use the internet, here are some sources for you.
NRSV
Almost any other translation
Upper Room resources for praying the Psalms
Allow the Living Water to drench your spirit so that you may live, quench your thirst, get cleaned up and have joy!
The Peace of Christ be with you

The Boy Who Lived

Yesterday, we saw Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Not bad. While they left out a lot from the book, some of my favorite scenes, I think they did a good job of getting the overall story across. And Dumbledore's protrayal was not nearly as dismal as it was in The Goblet of Fire, so seemingly plaintive much of the time, twisting his hands in anxiety. That's not Dumbledore by a long shot. Of course, I think they didn't make Umbridge as toadlike as she is in the book. We only really heard her little coughs, ahem, ahem, at Harry's hearing. And we didn't get to hear, in her office, as she complained that the dementors she had ordered to kill Harry had failed.

Of course, we are waiting with bated breath for The Deathly Hallows to come out. Will Harry live or die? Whose side is Snape really on? Do the Malfoys change sides? Will Harry see behind the veil where Sirrius vanished when killed by Bellatrix? Will Fawkes rise from the ashes once again? Is there redemption?

Questions, questions. And soon there will be answers.

Quilting Angels

What fun! Our Sisters in the Spirit group has been working on the design for paraments for the Communion table and the baptismal font for Advent. Tonight, we saw the fabrics we will use to piece together the background and use for the angel appliques. We got the idea and angel designs from Adoration Quilts by Rachel W.N. Brown of Rachel's Quilt Patch in Staunton, VA.

The three angels will be about 15 inches high each. Maybe we can work on other pieces in years to come. After the angels, shepherds? Camels? The Manger?

Not only will we create something of beauty for the sanctuary, we will also have great fellowship in the process, just like the old quilting bees.

Remember Who You Are

In Will Willimon's blog of July 2, he recorded his notes from First, Break All the Rules by Marcus Burkingham and Curt Coffman. The note that caught my eye was: "You succeed by trying to capitalize on who you are, not by trying to fix who you aren’t." In the book, the authors evidently are making the point that the best management style is to go with a person's strengths, not try to retrain their weaknesses.

When I work with people with the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, I try to emphasize that our dominant function will always be our strongest function. While our inferior function begins to develop more in our middle years, and we may get a real boost of energy using that inferior function, it will never be as strong as our dominant function. So when our life depends on it, always go with our dominant function. In MBTI terms for me, that means while I may get a kick out of using my sensing function, when a matter is really important I need to go with my intuitive function.

Theologically, what does it mean to capitalize on who you are, not try to fix who you are not? Does this mean I stick with my broken self, and not seek wholeness through God's grace? I'm not sure I want to do that, or say that to people. But if I look at the question in terms of my baptism, then who I am is a redeemed child of God covered with grace given certain gifts for sharing that grace experience with others.

Water, Water Reflections, Water Remembrance

My younger son and I went to the pool this afternoon. He played in the huge pool that's for anyone who just wants to play, and went down the big water slides, while I swam laps in the lap pool. I love the play of the water reflections on the bottom of the pool. It is so comforting to me. I can feel the stress easing out of my body as I see the reflections made by the ripples in the water from the stroke of my arms and the kick of my legs.

As far back as I can remember, I have loved water. When I was only 9 months old, I've been told, I made my first trip from TX to AL to my grandparents' lakehouse. I hadn't gotten the shots necessary for swimming in lake or river water since my parents weren't planning on me being in the water at such a young age. Evidently, I put up such a fuss on seeing the water and everyone else in it that they got a galvanized steel tub, filled it with water from the house, and then floated it in the lake with me happily splashing about in it.

As one ordained to the celebration of the sacraments, all the connections with water are so important to me. Not only is this the water in which I swim, it is also the water with which I baptize, the water of my baptism, the water of Jesus' baptism, and the water of creation.

Thanks be to God for glorious water!

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you. (Isaiah 43:2).

Camping Out @ Home

Our family likes to camp. Well, 3 of us like to camp. Okay, maybe 2-1/2 of us like to camp (I'm not really up for tent camping anymore). Now, we are getting to camp out at home. It's not as bad as 3 years ago when we truly had to camp out in the basement while the renovation on our home was being completed.

It's the cooking and eating part, this time. We are having a couple of new cabinets, a dishwasher and new countertop installed in our 1950s kitchen. And the old remaining metal cabinets will be refinished/repainted. Since the Fourth of July, we can't even get a glass of water in the kitchen, let alone wash dishes.

Sometimes, doing things in a more simple way can help remind us how few thing we really need in our lives. I confess that I get overwhelmed by all the stuff and it tends to distract me from what is truly needful. I get in more of a "Martha" mode, while I really need to be more of a "Mary." I also confess that I really like gadgets. I'm writing this on my MacBook Pro, while my newish Treo 755P is charging. I played with the iPhone yesterday at the Apple store. All cool stuff, but does it really help me relate the good news of Jesus in people's lives? While I'm not giving it all up and going back to the stone ages, I do need to keep it all in perspective as I seek the one thing that is truly needful in my life.

Anyone Can Cook!

That's a key phrase in the new movie Ratatouille from Pixar. That was the contention of the famous chef Auguste Gusteau (in the movie). But then he clarifies that by saying that anyone can cook, but only a few are great. It reminds me of something my mother used to say about cooking and sewing: "anyone who can read, can sew (cook)." I took her at her word since she taught me both cooking and sewing. Neither task seemed too difficult to me. Then I met a colleauge who used to sew as a teenager. After a year as an exchange student, mainly speaking French, she said that somehow her brain had changed and she could no longer sew, try as she might.

I think that anyone with a modicum of reading ability, spatial reasoning and a bit of dexterity can "cook" and "sew," but not everyone has the true gift. What does that mean in terms of the spiritual gifts ( 1 Corinthians 12 & Romans 12)? Not everyone has the same gift of healing, preaching, teaching, etc., but there is a greater gift--LOVE. Is this gift of love given to everyone? I would think so, but I'm not sure that everyone opens themself to the full expression of the gift.

The colony of rats in the movie couldn't really cook on their own, but they did discover that led by a "master cook" they did indeed learn to "cook." Maybe we can't love all on our own, but led by the "master lover" we can indeed learn to love!

An Exciting 4th!

Last night, our younger son and I went to see the fireworks at our local high school. We had already set off our own fireworks display in the backyard with the neighbors as an appreciative audience. Fortunately, the wind cooperated and no one outside had the smoke blow over them. The community fireworks were a lot of fun. In a way, I missed the music we had had with the fireworks at Wolftrap the night before Memorial Day, but in another way, I was reminded of simpler celebrations where the audio component was the "oohs" and "ahs" of the crowd. The finale came at about 35 minutes into the display. We all clapped appreciatively. Later, I found out that our older son was also at the display, in the same parking lot! I thought he was off setting of the fireworks he and friends are purchased out of state.
The pictures are from my camera phone.

Evan Almighty

We went to see Evan Almighty the other evening. Some of the comedic bits seemed mighty slapstick and sophomoric, but it was actually an enjoyable film. And the theology was quite good, emphasizing God's love--not anger.

16 years & a GED in hand!

Okay! I know I didn't post anything for 2 months, and now can't stop, it seems.

Our wonderful and challenging 16 year old son, who is totally brilliant but hates school with a passion, now has his GED in hand. Thank God for blessings large and small. Let us pray now for him finding a job, and for patience for his parents who love him more than he can ever imagine.

Our younger son just got home from his first week at away camp. He swam, canoed, gigged for crawfish, and more. He had a great time, but really seems to be enjoying having his Nintendo DS at hand again, and watching videos. Thanks be to God for camp counselors and CITs.

B-Side Project

Sunday evening, I had a wonderful time listening to the B-Side Project: 5 young musicians (trumpet, trombone, keyboard, double bass & drums). They played at the Extra Virgin Restaurant in Shirlington VA. No sleazy lounge music there! They were excellent, especially AnnaMaria Mottola. Wow! Her fingers can really fly over that keyboard! What a joy to witness such a gift!

6 years in ministry together!

This past Sunday was my 6th anniversary with my current congregation. This Annual Conference in June marked 27 years in pastoral ministry (29 since my ordination as a deacon, 26 since my ordination as an elder)! How does time fly so fast!

While I have loved all my congregations, the people here at Christ Crossman have challenged me and kept me on the growing edge. It's an exciting place to be in ministry with God's people. Now don't get me wrong! It's still not easy. We think that the tide has begun to turn, but we can't be sure. In a place with as much transition as Northern VA, we can never know for sure if our leaders will still be here next year, or will move on to a new place in their careers, or in their retirement.

Our prayer is to be a part of what God wants to bless here. Join us in that venture of faith!

Swingin' in the Pocket

Back in January, when AnnaMaria told the choir that she wanted to do a month of Jazz, it made me think, “What does jazz have to do with the Gospel?” So later that night, I googled “jazz gospel” which gave me lots of different links to particular gospel music sites. Then I added the word “theology” into my search, and found a blog called Reflections of a Jazz Theologian written by a pastor in Colorado named Robert Gelinas. He wrote, also quoting Brad Braxton:

“The beauty of a jazz musician, lies in their ability not simply to hit a musical note exactly, but to move around the 'margins' of a note, thereby increasing the vibrato and resonance of the sound...When one too precisely hits a note or too accurately defines a reality in black and white, some of the color that captivates and motivates may be lost."

Gelinas concludes, “I believe that to know God is to embrace tension, not necessarily resolve it. Classical theology seeks precision, jazz theology lives and thrives in the ambiguity.”

Less than 36 hours later, at the Bi-District Leadership Training Day, Tim Craig had with him a book called Blue Like Jazz: Non-religious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality, by Donald Miller. I picked it up and read the author’s note at the beginning:

“I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn’t resolve. But I was outside the Baghdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for 15 minutes and he never opened his eyes.

After that I liked jazz music.

Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.

I used to not like God because God didn’t resolve. But that was before any of this happened.”

This did not feel like a coincidence, but a God-incidence. So I have begun to explore the connection between Jazz and the Gospel--not that U2 has been displaced from my favorites list by any means. But I have discovered that jazz is not just a particular genre of music; it is a style of approaching the art of making music. Within the boundaries of jazz, the music can sound very different, so different that you didn’t even know it was in the same genre. Isn’t that similar to our Christian life? Within each person of faith beats not only a physical heart, but also the heartbeat of God. It is this heartbeat in a sense that binds us together, but the lives empowered by that heartbeat certainly don’t look like the same from person to person.

When we were trying to figure out what to call this series, I asked AnnaMaria to talk about some of the terms used in Jazz. That’s when I discovered “in the pocket.” Almost off-handedly she said, “you know what that means,” and started to move on. But no, I didn’t know what that meant, so I asked.

“In the pocket” means that you’ve got the beat right; that you’ve got the time almost in your bones. Maybe all the rest of you already knew that in jazz the time is actually very strict. But I didn’t. Jazz always seemed so free flowing, so improvisational, so offbeat, as it were. But no, the time, the beat provides the base for all the improvisation to happen. When jazz musicians play “in the pocket,” they are united at the very base, at the beat, so that they can play their own instrument to help create the whole piece.

And that’s what it is like in living the Gospel as well. The heartbeat of God provides the base for all the different improvisations in individual lives. When we live “in the pocket,” we are united in the heart of God so that we can live and use our own gifts to be a part of the whole Body of Christ.

Evelyn Underhill, a 20th century Christian writer, said that “a spiritual life is simply a life in which all that we do comes from the centre, where we are anchored in God: a life soaked through and through by a sense of [divine] reality and claim, and self-given to the great movement of God’s will.”

Augustine of Hippo, a Christian from the 4th-5th centuries, wrote that “we humans, who are a due part of your creation, long to praise you….You arouse us so that praising you may bring us joy, because you have made us and drawn us to yourself, and our heart is unquiet until it rests in you.”

The closer we walk to the heartbeat of God, the more we live “in the pocket.” But how can we find ourselves walking and living close to the heartbeat of God? By keeping close company with the Incarnation of God, Jesus, and allowing his Spirit to infuse our own hearts and lives.

The Apostle Paul prayed for the Christians in Ephesus, and we take this prayer to our own hearts as well:
“For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name. I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love.”

Being rooted and grounded in the love of Christ is being connected to the very heartbeat of God which beats so deep that our bones, our very fiber vibrate to this love. This becomes our song, sung in glorious praise to the One who out of overwhelming love set all the Creation into motion.

Then Paul went on to pray “that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”

The strings of a bass, or a guitar, or a violin, or a cello mean nothing when they are sitting idle in their case. The top skin of a drum means nothing as it sits idle. But when the fingers of the musician set them to work, they vibrate with the note and play the song.

It is when our lives begin to vibrate like those strings or the tautly stretched drum-head that the song begins to play. When we begin to vibrate with the deep-rooted love of God in Christ, the very fiber of our being sings out and the world becomes filled with the heartbeat of God. And our hearts and lives begin to look and act more like the heart and life of Jesus, “who though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross.”

As we live close to the heartbeat of God as revealed in Jesus the Christ, our lives truly begin to look more like his as we begin to live out and act out his love for the world. As our lives begin to vibrate with the very heartbeat of God, the song of love will begin to transform not only us, but the world.

This is living “in the pocket.”

Holy Saturday

Bishop Will Willimon, North Alabama Conference of the United Methodist Church, preached this sermon when he was Dean of the Chapel at Duke University in 1998.

Passage: I Peter 3:19

Where is Jesus now, this night, in this present darkness? Where might we seek him? He is dead. “He did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped. He emptied himself freely accepting death on a cross” (Philippians 2:6). Where is Jesus? You know the words of the Creed: Suffered under Pontius Pilate, crucified, dead, and was buried, he descended into hell....”

That’s why this Chapel seems peculiarly dark, dismal, and empty tonight. The one for whom this great arched room was built, the one whose presence draws us on Sunday, is not here.

“Crucified died and was buried, he descended into hell.” Nineteenth Century Methodists removed that portion of the Creed, claiming it unbiblical. But it’s not. The First Epistle of Peter speaks of Christ’s descent into hell, called by the Church, “The Harrowing of Hell.” It’s from the Old English hergian, to harrow, to deposit. Tonight, Satan’s territory is being despoiled.

After his death this afternoon (at the hands of us good, Bible quoting religious people), when he breathed his last, Jesus, ever on the move, descended to hell. Having harassed us, the living, he descended to the dead. Tonight, he is there, preaching to them, cajoling, enticing those who had not the benefit of his life and words during their lives.

How did the church come up with such a notion? This “harrowing of hell”?

It was inconceivable to a church which had been the beneficiary of the intrusive, relentless, incursions of Jesus — the way he was forever speaking to us, prodding us, invading our settled world with his words, touching our wounds with his hands — it was inconceivable that some, so many, shall by their deaths, be excluded from his relentless, probing love. So for Virgil, and Plato, and the myriad who, by their deaths, had missed the advent of God with us, he came to them who could not have come to him.

He is there tonight, doing what he does so well, preaching, teaching, touching, relentlessly seeking, persuading, inviting, announcing the love and mercy of God. Psalm 16:10, “Thou wilt not leave my soul in hell....” Byzantine art depicted Jesus, in the jaws of hell, giving a hand to those who had died lifting them up, out of the darkness.

And though he is down there, and therefore not here, there is something to be said to those of us he has temporarily left behind. That word is this: Because I am there, tonight, descended into the deadly darkness, confronting the enemy on the enemy’s own turf, you have hope.

If he is there, then know well that nothing — no darkness, bereftness, or pain you experience, is immune from his gracious presence. If he, though he was God, is able to risk all, to wade deep into the death we so fear and avoid, then what might he risk for you?

Tonight, this usually gracious Chapel is rather cold, empty, cavernous, and dark. And, life being as it is, there will be nights for you that are cold, and dark, and alone. Hell is dark, bereft, and void. The Good News: Tonight, hell is being harrowed, emptied by the word and work of a relentlessly seeking savior who will not leave us be. He told us stories of the seeking Shepherd who forever seeks the one lost sheep, the faithful father who awaits the return of the one lost son, the relentless woman who does not rest until she finds the one coin (Luke 14). He meant what he said. There is no place where you languish, no darkness so dark, which places you beyond his seeking, searching, reach. He is willing to go all the way to Hell to bring his harvest home.

On a warm, Galilean day, he sat down on a hill and taught us to pray. You know that prayer, “Our Father who art in heaven....”
Tonight, he teaches us to pray a prayer you shall need on some dark night, a prayer which can give you infinite hope, even in the dark. That prayer: “Our Father who art in hell....”

[The orginal of Will’s Sermon is here.]

The powers and the principalities cannot prevail. The darkness cannot hide. The light has come, and nothing, NOTHING, NOTHING can overcome it!

Father, Forgive them...

Our local ministerial association offers a community Good Friday service at noon where we each preach on one of the 7 Last Words of Christ. This is my word from today.

Father, Forgive Them
Good Friday
April 6, 2007

The first words Jesus utters from the cross, at least in Luke’s account, after he has been raised upon the bar, are, “Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.”

I’ve always seen this request as showing Jesus’ graciousness. I haven’t really thought about it much before, but who is Jesus forgiving here? Does he ask God to forgive the soldiers who have nailed him on the cross and raised him up? Is he asking God to forgive the Jewish leaders and crowds who called for his crucifixion? Or is he asking forgiveness for all humanity?

Biblical scholar Raymond Brown raises the same question, and decides that the forgiveness is requested for the specific group at the scene of the crucifixion, not for all humanity. He says we can theorize that it extends further, but that’s not Jesus’ original request.

Actually, there’s another question that raises its ugly head on the sidebar: why should Jesus ask forgiveness for those who were just doing what God demanded? In other words, if, as some believe, God required Jesus to be sacrificed in order for salvation to happen, then why do those who are simply the actors accomplishing this requirement need to be forgiven? Why shouldn’t they be commended for following orders, or at least given a pass?

Because that very assumption is askew. God did not demand that Jesus be sacrificed to atone for our sins. We did. From the very first pointing finger, we have been a people who make others into our scapegoats. Whenever there is discomfort, disorder, discord, we cannot rest until we find one to hold responsible. “There. She’s the one who started it.” “Over here, he caused it all.” We point the finger and move all our discomfort, disorder, discord onto the shoulders of our scapegoat. Then, we at least shun, and perhaps even sacrifice, the goat so that order, accord and comfort may once again reign in the land and in our lives, at least until the next time things begin to get out of whack.

We have practiced this art throughout the centuries until we brought it to perfection in Jerusalem, and have continued trying to practice it for the nearly 2,000 years since. But when we pointed the finger at Jesus, he was the One Person in all creation who had no culpability. He was without sin. But still we demanded his sacrifice, the sacrifice of One for the people. And so, he was arrested, beaten, mocked, scorned, nailed and raised on the cross so that all who passed by could point their fingers at him, and relieve themselves of their own culpability.

When the sinless One was raised on the cross, the power of sacrifice was broken for all time, no matter how many more times we have tried it since. No peace or order will ever reign again, not when scapegoating and sacrifice rule the day. Peace will reign only when we begin to live into the reality of those words Jesus uttered from the cross, “Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.”

So back to my first question: who does Jesus ask God to forgive? He asks God to forgive the soldiers who carry out the execution. He prays God’s forgiveness for the leaders and people who pointed their finger at Jesus. And here, I disagree with Brown, Jesus asks God to forgive us, for every time we point our finger and seek a scapegoat.

René Girard said, “What makes our hearts turn to stone is the discovery that, in one sense or another, we are all butchers pretending to be sacrificers. . . . One thing alone can put an end to this infernal ordeal, the certainty of being forgiven.”

Forgive us, Lord, for we do not know what we are doing.

My soul cries out

O God, my soul cries out for all who are filled with such pain, or anger, or both, that they cannot hear any words of love, see any hope out of the morass. Touch them with your holy grace, Jesus. Heal us with your power. Help us to find love and hope again.

Be still

Philip Yancey, in his book, Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference, reminds us to "be still, and know that I am God." To be still, and vacate the throne of trying to control all our stuff, all our life, as a god, and turn to God entrhoned.

Being still is not easy for me. I constantly try to juggle all the balls of being wife, mother, pastor, friend, responsible member of certain groups, responsible citizen, recycler, environmentalist, on and on and on, infinatum. I try to cast my vision out to anticipate what will be coming down the road and plan appropriate action. But I find myself overwhelemed by the sheer enormity of it all.

Like a slap in the face, I remember the importance of changing my prayer a few years ago from "God, bless what we are doing here" to "God, help us be a part of what you are doing here." God is already here. God is already in the midst of all my juggling balls. I can even imagine a divine wry smile cracking the fabric of Creation, God gently watching me struggle to keep all the plates spinning at one time, and waiting to catch my eye to let me know that I don't have to keep them all spinning.

God is not a jukebox in the sky for me to put my quarters (prayers) in and get my selection. God is the very music itself reaching down into the very marrow of my being, seeking to help tune me so that I can play in harmony with all of God's Creation.

Gracious, Loving God, help me to be still in your presence, so that I can hear the wonders of your music and become a vital part of your orchestra of praise.

Snowy grace

On this first Sunday of Lent, we have been given an unexpected grace. The anticipated wintry mix turned to a heavy snowfall blanketing our world with white and bringing with it a quiet Sabbath time.

This wilderness of white isn't quite like the wilderness into which Jesus was led, driven, hurled by the Spirit, and yet it also allows time and space to consider.

What is it to be called by God to be faithful in this time and place?

Ash Wednesday

The first day of Lent. A time to reflect. I have always thought of Lent as a time to reevaluate my relationship with God, that anything I "give up" should be something that gets in the way between God and me. I remember, years ago, in college, giving up all physical relationship with my boyfriend--hugs, kisses, even holding hands. Another college year, I gave up bread. That was probably the hardest year of all.

What would I "give up" this year? What is getting in the way? I'm not so sure that it is a "thing" but an attitude or a posture. I am afraid.

Fear often shows a lack of trust. So maybe my trust in God is lacking. But I also believe that God doesn't just swoop in and set everything to rights, like the deus ex machina of the Greek/Roman dramas-- dramatic invention, a diety suspended on wires, that saves the hero/ine from falling off the cliff when nothing else can. If that were the case, we wouldn't need to learn, to change, to grow.

When the ash cross is smudged onto my forehead, O gracious holy God, let me place my fear in your hands so that I can learn to balance on the edge. So be it.

Trouble, but no grace

Paul Scott Wilson, preacher/teacher par excellence, says that preachers tend to do very well talking about trouble, but not so well talking about grace. He has a pattern that is very helpful. First look at trouble in the Bible, then trouble in the world, grace in the Bible, then grace in our world. Part of the problem is that even when we are trying to talk about grace, we end up heaping more trouble.

Today's service was a lesson in point. While visiting family in TX, I attended a contemporary service with my niece and her husband. The music and energy was good. Their band had more players than we usually have at our contemporary service in total. Of course, AnnaMaria playing the keyboard makes up for 10 or more musicians. I digress. Music was good. An opening drama was good. The proclamation left something to be desired. It was titled "Sin." The preacher, while folksy and sometimes humorous, dealt with sin and trouble in the world (not even in the Bible), using a definition that sin creates conflict in our relationship with God, with each other and the world. That's all well and true. He left us with the admonition that we don't want to create this conflict, and so do better about it. That was the gist of the sermon. I thought maybe I was being a bit critical, as preachers are wont to be, until my younger compatriots spoke up on the way home. They had gotten the same point as I, and missed the grace as well.

The grace of God, as Paul the Apostle well knows, is all that keeps me from falling completely to my sin. In Romans 7:15-19, he speaks of willing to do good, but not being able to do it. Yes, I must cooperate with the grace and will to do the good, but all my willing will not make it happen. In the end, all I can do is give thanks to God for the overwhelming grace I experience in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus the Christ. And so, bathed in that grace, I learn to live in grace and offer grace to all the others who are sinners like me. Thanks be to God!

Happy Birthday!

Today is my best friend's birthday. Happy birthday, friend! Enjoy the snow out there and the warmth I hope you are experiencing this weekend.

From our first year of college, through marriage, kids, life, death, resurrection, through it all, you have been a wonderfully gracious woman. May this year before your Golden Year be filled with joy, discernment, hope, love and so much more.

Family is an incredible gift

Family is an incredible gift. I thank God for mine.

I don't watch much TV anymore. This evening, I watched reruns with my niece and her husband. The family depicted on the sitcom was incredibly dysfunctional (whose isn't to some degree?). We laughed as the parents and grown children squabbled and feuded just like little children, all the while recognizing that others might look at our family and see things to guffaw about. I was simply reminded of the gift of family. Mine has never been perfect. I know my brother sometimes must roll his eyes at my life and choices, while I chuckle about his foibles as well, but when all is said and done, he is my brother and will always be in my corner as I am in his.

I remember a time back in high school. He was dating a young woman in the grade between us. She and I were lab assistants to the same teacher. I remember (blushing somewhat at the memory) telling her, because she was dating someone else as well, that if she hurt my brother, she had me to deal with. What could I have done to her? What would I have done to her? Nothing truly. But I remember the depth of my protective feeling--don't mess with my brother! When he was in college, my brother would not allow his fraternity brothers to even think about dating me. They were okay to be his friends, but not for me. Thirty plus years later, we still have that same depth of feeling for each other, even though we live thousands of miles apart in very diffierent worlds.

Gracious God, thank you for my family!

Life on the edge

After nearly 27 years of serving as a pastor, I don't want to stay with what is safe and usual. In so many ways, all of us really live on the edge. Isn't that where the gospel takes us--out onto the edge? To learn new ways of expressing the Good News, to encounter people whose life experience is different than mine, to trust that God is already at the edge to welcome us--this is part of what keeps us alive.

Three weeks ago, on the same day, I held a newborn baby boy in my arms in the morning and in the afternoon I sat at the bedside of a man who was dying. I had used the same oil to anoint both of them. The fragrance of the grace of God lingered in the air to remind us that, in Jesus, God poured God's self out in overwhelming love for all creation. As Jonathan entered a world to learn of God's love, Bill entered a "new world" to see God face to face. Thanks be to God who allows me to be a witness to both these holy moments.