One Thing

Last week in visiting Lillian who is recovering well from a stroke, she told me that her physical therapist, in releasing her from PT, told her to keep her mind on one thing at a time, and she should be able to accomplish each task. Then Lillian said with that hint of a dry smile she has that it’s hard to think about only one thing at a time.

I usually pride myself on my ability to multi-task. I get lots of things done that way. Lately, however, I been questioning this “ability.” How well do I really get things done? I have been much more mindful when I drive to focus on the task at hand. [See PR & news reports do make a difference.] And don’t I want someone to focus on me when with me rather than attending to other things—like talking on a cell phone?

Which makes me think of my need to focus on the one thing that is most needful—the love of Christ. With single-minded focus and obedience, he emptied himself and went to the cross—all for love, that we might be set free. So today, on this most Holy Thursday, whether at home, at work, or in worship (at 7:30 p.m.), the love of Christ is our focus. When we keep our mind on this one thing, then all things will be accomplished well.

Matthew 6:33

But strive first for the kingdom of God and God’s righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

Grudge into gratitude

These days I would rather not let the frustrations bother me. I would rather be able to do each task with a true smile on my lips, and gratitude in my heart for being able to serve even in a small way, but I often find a grudge there instead.

I give thanks for companions along the way who are a witness to me in dealing with those pesky frustrations—some small, some quite large. Jen has been such an inspiration to me these last several years. She takes what she reads and hears and reflects on, and it becomes a part of her life.

This past week as she had to deal with one thing after another, so many that they became not just a molehill or a series of molehills, but nearly a mountain, in the midst of it all she sang “I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free…” Granted at moments that song may have been more like a prayer of desperation, but the singing of it was also a hymn of praise, and a declaration of trust in God.

And so, with that witness before me, I will seek to turn my frustrations into an opportunity to sing praise, and grudges into gratitude.

Buy Less?

How often do I make something more complicated by trying to parse the details? For years I have been trying to improve our family’s “green-ness.” Three years ago, we bought a Civic hybrid. I would love to have solar panels on our house, especially since it faces the south. We got rid of the grass in front of the house to reduce the necessity of mowing.

This morning, I glanced at an article in the Post titled “Go green without spending green,” an interview with Jeffrey Hollender, founder of Seventh Generation cleaning products. The single most important thing in going green, he says, is to buy less stuff. That elicits a hand slap to the forehead: DUH!

Thinking “green” when we need to buy new things, make replacements, etc., is important, but buying more to add to the already massive collections in our homes and waste sites is not helpful in the end.

That way of thinking also applies to other areas of my life. What actions can go a long way without requiring massive planning and adding in lots of additional responsibilities? During Lent, we often give up something as a discipline but end up adding other things to take its place. Maybe the kind of fast that is needed is really learning to do with less—less things, less activities, less scheduling, less rushing. Anyway, this is giving me something to think about during these days when what I need to learn is how to let go—let go of worry, fear, anxiety.

"Pinch a bit of skin"

When we are kids, most of us are told that we shouldn’t point at others. It’s not polite. We may even have learned that whenever we point our finger at someone, there are three pointing right back at us.

Quite often what we don’t like in someone else is something we actually don’t like in ourselves; it’s just that we seldom realize it. Only today I listened as one person described another as not being able to see from any perspective but their own. As I heard this, I thought that the description actually fit the speaker quite well too. Then, as I smiled in a bit of smug superiority, I thought it can describe me at times.  Oooh. Caught.

I have a physiological analogy for this in my life. Several years ago, I kept smelling something that seemed a bit off. I thought it was the smell of stale smoke wherever I went, but then I discovered what it really was. It was a symptom of dehydration. I was dehydrated. So now, when I start to wrinkle my nose in distaste at a smell, I actually pinch of bit of my skin together to see if I getting dehydrated again.

In other aspects of life, I also need to “pinch a bit of my skin.” Before I jump to judgment on someone else, I need to examine myself and find where I err or fall short.

Matthew 7:3-4

Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ while the log is in your own eye?

The Heartbeat of God

During the days immediately after 9/11/01, one song kept resonating through my mind. It was a Taizé song that repeats: “The Lord is my light, my light and salvation. In God I trust. In God I trust.” Singing that over and over calmed my spirit in those days of such fear.

When I am suffused with joy, the words and tune of “Bless the Lord, my soul, and bless God’s holy name. Bless the Lord, my soul, who leads me into life” (Jacques Berthier), well up within me.

When I was in college, the young man I dated for several years seemed uncomfortable when I would break into a snatch of song. He would say, “Life is not a musical.” That’s when I realized that my life is indeed a musical. Music expresses what I feel, what I think; music teaches me; music calms me; music excites me. I learn best when words go to music.

Later when I read The Magician’s Nephew, originally the 5^th book in The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, I found an important image. Aslan the great Lion, Son of the Emperor over the sea, sings all of Narnia into creation. In music, I find my deepest connection with my Lord. It is as though in music I am connected with the heartbeat of the One who set all of Creation into motion, who infuses it with saving grace, who calls to it from the telos, the “end” or goal, as it were.

And so, I invite you to sing a hymn of promise of that telos with me:

In our end is our beginning, in our time, infinity;

in our doubt there is believing; in our life, eternity.

In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory,

unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see. (Natalie Sleeth)

Colossians 3:16

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God.

Centering Prayer

This past Sunday evening we had the first of our Lenten Centering Prayer Series. Someone said it was like doing yoga. I was reminded of my first real experiences with centering prayer in the summer of 1980. Jeff and I were freshly graduated from seminary serving our first congregations. Our new friend Jim introduced us to a monthly ecumenical study group that met at Holy Cross Abbey in Berryville.

We would begin at 2 p.m. with the monks’ regular afternoon prayer in the Chapel, and then move into the chapter room or library. Father Edward and Father Andrew would welcome us, and invite us into twenty minutes of centering prayer. Wow! Was that hard at first!  Think of it: twenty minutes of intentional silence, not speaking, not even silently; twenty minutes of silence shortly after lunch, in the summer, in a non-air-conditioned room with the windows open.

We each had our own word, usually a name for God, to help keep us centered on God. When we found our thoughts wandering, that word repeatedly silently, with our breathing would bring us back to the center of listening to God. After our time of centering prayer, we would then vigorously discuss the book we were reading for that year.

The monks of Holy Cross Abbey gave me a real gift by teaching me that prayer comes in many shapes—some very structured like the prayers of their ordered services; some free flowing as in spontaneous prayer; some silent and nourishing. All of it is a way of speaking with and, more importantly, listening to God. The more time I spend with my Maker, the more I will look and sound like my Maker.

Smudged Crosses

On Wednesday, as I traversed the halls of the massive Johns Hopkins hospital I kept seeing people with black crosses smudged on their foreheads. I wondered what others in the crowd thought as they saw them.

I thought about many things: first--that we are made from the dust and to dust we shall return. We are mortal. None of us will get out of this life alive. No matter how much we love it, no matter how much we cling, we will die. That might sound like a morbid thought, but I don’t think so. The reality is that we are mortal. Knowing that our life here on earth is not limitless makes it that much more precious.

Second—I thought about how thankful I am for the congregation with whom I serve in ministry—for all the times we have worshiped our Lord together. I am so thankful that this is a community of faith that is so faithful and loving. I am so thankful for Becky and others to willingly take up the mantle when I am not able to be present. I thought about the Young @ Heart folks with their smudged crosses at noon.

Third—as I was exiting the elevator in the lobby of the Weinberg Center, I saw the nurse practitioner from Jeff’s surgeon’s practice. We had seen her earlier in the day, but now on her forehead, she bore that black cross-shaped smudge, and I was glad for that quiet witness.

Fourth—as I sat in the congregation Wednesday night and heard the scriptures of Ash Wednesday read, I thought about how difficult it can be for us to go out into the world bearing our smudged crosses, proclaiming not only our mortality, and our repentance, but also our allegiance to the One who made us and redeems us.

I give thanks for you and for your prayers. Jeff is recovering from surgery. They were not able to remove the cancer, though they removed part of the colon, leaving him with an ileostomy. Chemo will follow. Jeff is in fairly good spirits. He is thankful for the gift of life, but even more for the gift of God’s redeeming love in Christ.

Joel 2:12-13

Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; rend your hearts and not your clothing. Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing.

Sighs Too Deep for Words

Last year, in a seminar I attended, I shared about Jeff’s then upcoming liver surgery, and said I didn’t know how to pray about it. One woman heard that as if I said I didn’t know how to pray, or that I was so emotional I couldn’t pray. She proceeded to instruct me in how to pray and how to let others pray for me. I appreciated the thought but what I meant was that in my limited perspective I truly did not know what to pray for. I cannot see all possibilities. I do not know truly what is best so that is when I especially rely on the Spirit. When my words fail, I simply pray for the best that is possible in God’s view and then let the Spirit intercede for me.

I am in that place once again. Jeff will have surgery once again, this time on his colon. My spirit is heavy; it is weak. I give thanks for the prayers of others. And I rely on the Spirit to intercede for him, for me. God sees all possibilities. God knows what is the best possibility, so all I can do is simply place it all before, within our Lord, the One who made heaven and earth--all creation, the One who shaped us out of the dust of the earth and breathed life into us, the One whose love for us is so boundless that this One came among us to live our life, share our grief, die for us and rise to new life for us. With sighs too deep for words I stand before this God who is Three-in-One and in my weakness, I find living breath.

Romans 8:26

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. 

A Interesting Perspective on Retirement

An interesting perspective on retirement was shared with me recently. A good friend when faced with a diagnosis of cancer found that he was sad and angry that he would not be able to enjoy his well-deserved retirement. After all, he had put in many years and much commitment into his career as a Family Practice physician. Wasn’t his retirement supposed to be his reward?

As he sought to chastise God for this disappointment, he said God had a different word for him. God told him that he had been given gifts to be used for God’s purposes, and that God would let him know when he would no longer need to use those gifts, and it had nothing to do with retirement.  My friend seemed to find peace in this new perspective. He knew that he would not necessarily work forever, but that his God-given gifts were not just for use in his career. They were to be used in God’s service. It was not a work for later rewards, but a use of his gifts for Christ’s kingdom.

We get so caught up in the world’s ways of looking at quid pro quo and rewards that we forget our God has a different economy. What would it be like for us to look at the gifts we have been given in such a totally fresh way? How much more pleasure could we find in serving in God’s kingdom in this way? How can we look at what we do as a way of using our gifts of healing and service rather than earning a reward or just a living?

Letters

Letters can be either a quaint relic of past times or a vivid glimpse into someone’s life. The Sisters in Spirit just finished reading and discussing a recent book The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. As Marybeth told us, it’s an epistalotory novel—one that’s written entirely in the form of letters. It’s a delightful read that gives a glimpse into life on a Channel Island occupied by the Germans during WWII, and shortly thereafter.

Part of the discussion was about letters and how much they have meant in our lives. Some have saved letters sent to them when they were younger. Others have letters exchanged between their parents or grandparents.

Personally, I found that when I used to write letters I tended to put a whole lot more of my inner thoughts into them than I intended. It was actually a bit unnerving to me because I felt so much more vulnerable. Even my family Christmas letters tend to be on the introspective side, so Jeff often has to edit them a bit.

Paul, who wrote letters to instruct, encourage and reprimand, told the Corinthians that they were his letters to the world. If I am a letter written by Christ, not with ink but with God’s living Spirit, then what message do I give to those I meet? Do I really give a glimpse of how God is working within me? Does the essence of my life convey God’s grace and mercy? Is God’s justice evident in the lines of my life? What will my children know about God by how they can read my life? It makes me pause and consider.  What about you?

Sit with me

I’m tired this week. It’s been a tough go. I find that when I’m tired I can say things I don’t mean, or less nicely than I mean. So I invite you to sit with me as I ponder my favorite psalm. Thanks to Fr Roland Murphy, the towering Carmelite, for whose class I had to do a Psalm journal, lo these many years ago. It was a gift then. It is a gift now.

Psalm 131

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up,


   my eyes are not raised too high;


I do not occupy myself with things


   too great and too marvelous for me.

 But I have calmed and quieted my soul,


   like a weaned child at its mother’s breast.

Like a weaned child,


O Israel, hope in the Lord


   from this time on and for evermore.

(NRSV with a Murphy slant)

God Willing and the Creek Don't Rise

Years ago a woman I knew had a standard response about any upcoming event: she’d be there, “God willing and the creek don’t rise.” While there was a bit of humor in her response, she really meant it. Back then I confess that it sounded on the pessimistic side to me.

I’ve had a few more experiences since then and now know that often the creek does rise, in a manner of speaking. I am far more aware of the very real possibility that my plans can go awry in any number of ways. I put an event on my calendar with the full intention of honoring it, and growing up in my family, that means that it will be honored if at all possible. There are times, however, that subsequent events come up and my calendar intentions get shot to pieces. Sometimes those unexpected disruptions come because of my boys, sometimes my husband, sometimes my work, and sometimes other circumstances.

Keeping in mind that one of my guiding principles is that “their lack of planning does not become my emergency,” there are times that there is a genuine emergency or a necessary interruption. Another guiding principle I’m working on is my level of reactivity. While I may feel like jumping down the throat of who- or whatever has disrupted my plans, I find it often to be a chance to take a deep breath and reflect on where God’s grace is evident, or on how I might be an evidence of God’s grace in this instance. I cannot foresee how God may well use this situation to bring about good.

So God willing and the creek don’t rise, I’ll be there to do what I said I’d do, but if the creek does rise then may I have the grace to wait for the good that God will bring about.

Romans 8:26, 28

Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God's Spirit is right alongside helping us along… That's why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good. [The Message]

Losing One's Life

We just finished our annual Groundhog Day tradition—watching the 1993 movie Groundhog Day. The arrogant, self-centered prig Phil Connors endures a purgatory of seemingly endless repeats of the same day. Through his ordeal, he enters further into self-centeredness, at one point calling himself “a god, not THE GOD, but a god,” because he knows what is going to happen before it happens since he has seen it so many times before. He descends into a morass of suicides because he can’t take it anymore, but every morning he awakes to the 6 a.m. alarm on February 2^nd. The beauty of poetry and music begin speaking to him. He begins using his time to see what others might need, rather than filling his own desires. Finally, one February 2^nd comes when he is able to say, “I don't deserve someone like you. But If I ever could, I swear I would love you for the rest of my life…. Whatever happens tomorrow, or for the rest of my life, I'm happy now... because I love you.”

For all the times that Phil tried to take his life out of despair, it didn’t make a difference because he was not really “losing his life.” His focus was still completely on himself. When he comes to the point of being able to be completely in the moment, giving up any thoughts of trying to manipulate his way, of working things to his own advantage, he loses himself, and his new life begins.

In some ways, I understand Jesus’ words that if we want to save our life then we have to lose it, but I almost always stumble over those very words at a burial, especially when those gathered are minimally Christian at best. Even Christians find those words difficult. Aren’t we supposed to love life? Why should we hate it? Why should we lose it? This time in watching Groundhog Day I saw Jesus’ words come to life in a new way. While Phil is a caricature of self-centeredness, in some ways he represents me. Whenever I seek my own advantage, my own pleasure to the point of centering on myself, then I forfeit my life. I may not die, but I will not have fullness of life. That comes when I am able to surrender my self-centeredness and seek to serve as Jesus served.

Mark 8:35-37 For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?

Spirit/Wind

A favorite image of the Spirit for me comes towards the end of the movie How To Make An American Quilt. Some folks would call it a chick flick, but not so. It is a wonderful story of how love has entered and changed the lives of several women who are part of a quilting circle. They share their stories with Finn, granddaughter and great-niece of two of the women. Finn is finishing writing her dissertation—after having abandoned a few along the way. The finished document is on the desk when a wind storm begins, blowing the pages through the window and about the town. The wind disturbs the well-laid plans and static relationships of the women. Through its power and disruption it brings about reconciliation and recommitment for several of the women.

While all metaphors and analogies fall short of the reality, I like this image of the Spirit/Wind because it reminds me that my well-laid plans are often meant for the purpose of keeping relationships and life static. When I have everything neatly arranged in a satisfactory fashion, suddenly God’s Spirit blows in through the window disrupting my neat order and plans. I am faced with God’s creating power. I am invited to enter into that whirlwind of power to allow God to stir up grace within me and about me.

Sometimes I welcome that Spirit/Wind, but sometimes, I confess, I resist it. And that is when its power is most needed to stir me from complacency or resignation, to move me towards the mystery of a future lived fully in God’s grace.

I invite you to see where God’s Spirit/Wind blows through the windows of your life to draw you out of whatever holds you in complacency or resignation, and move you into the fullness of God’s grace.

John 3:8: The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

Good Thing/Bad Thing

Several years ago, we started doing a recap of our day by lifting up one good thing, and one bad or not-so-good thing. Sometimes we try to sneak by with an “oh, it was all good, or okay,” but on the whole we try to honor it. This practice helps us put voice to our experiences. It helps us to clarify them.

Usually the good thing is fairly simple and straightforward. I confess that I don’t always put a whole lot of detail into the not-so-good thing in particular. I don’t think an adolescent should have to deal with all the worries of an adult, but I do think it is good for them to be aware that adults deal with worries. I do sometimes bring up something where “I blew it.” I’m not perfect, and sometimes I cause the not-so-good thing. I need to be honest and admit it.

This practice is akin to a spiritual discipline called Examination of Conscience. Where have I loved as Christ loves? Where have I not acted in a loving way? Where have I heard God in the moments of the day? Where have I shut my ears, and my heart? Where have I seen Christ in the least of these? Where have I averted my eyes?

Good thing today? I witnessed students really wrestle with a tough predicament in one’s internship and heard as they offered genuine wisdom and insight.

Not-so-good thing today? I’m getting bogged down in details that fog my vision and make it difficult for me to see and hope clearly.

Really good thing? That even on days when I blow it, or find hope difficult, God meets me in the moments of my days, and holds me in the darkness of night, offering me healing grace.

Psalm 63:5-7

My soul is satisfied as with a rich feast, and my mouth praises you with joyful lips when I think of you on my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night; for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy.

The Runaway Heart

Several years ago, a Bible study for children used a little book called The Runaway Heart. I can’t find it anymore but I think it’s a good “story” for us all. It goes something like this:

The heart was doing its work of pumping blood around the body when it looked around and thought, “I am the most important part of this body. Without me, the body can’t live. And they don’t even realize it. Look at the rest of them, thinking they are so important. I think I will just run away.”

So the heart ran away. It rolled down a hill, enjoying its freedom and thinking about how much the others would miss it when they realized it was gone. That would show them! Without eyes to see where it was going, the heart ran into a big rock and couldn’t go any further. It sat there pumping for all its might, but no blood was coming into it to be filled with oxygen and pumped out to anywhere else.

It just sat there beating, flub-flub, flub-flub. As it sat, it wished that it could see where it was, or hear any sounds. It wished it had the lungs close by for company. It wished it had hands to feel its pulse beat. It wished it had a voice to call for help, but it just sat there beating, feeling lonely, and to tell the truth a whole lot silly for having run away in the first place.

Suddenly gentle hands came and picked up the runaway heart, cleaning off the dirt, and placed it back where it belonged. The heart flubbed for joy; blood was flowing through it again. It was back in the body, doing it’s important work so that the rest of the parts of the body could do what they did best.

Each part of the body has its function. Each function is important. Without each part, the whole body would not be able to do its work well. As Paul tells us, that is the case with the Body of Christ as well. Each of us in the church has a gift, a function. They are all important, vital even. It doesn’t matter if that part is big and flashy, or small and behind the scenes. It takes all the parts to make the whole Body!

I give thanks for all of you and the work you do to make the whole body of Christ Crossman function. I give thanks that Christ Crossman is a part of the whole Body of Christ, serving in our place. I give thanks for Dulin, and Galloway, and Calloway and Mt Olivet and all the other parts of the Body of Christ for doing their work for the Body in their own place.

What is the work, the gift you are called to do in the Body?

Mindfulness

I’ve been thinking about mindfulness. This has been vital in how I have been able to get my weight more under control. I have to think about what I will be eating, not only as I eat but as I plan my day. When I get lax about it, then it becomes easier for me to pick up food on the run. That’s when I get into trouble. And over the Christmas to New Year’s time frame, there were all kinds of goodies sitting around that just kept calling to me. So it’s back to mindfulness.

It’s not just in relation to food that this is important for me. There are so many areas of my life that get out of control when I am not mindful about them. I tend to be an “out of sight, out of mind” kind of person. If something is out of my view for any length of time, it is very easy for me to forget about it. I “lose” things this way, only to be rediscovered later often when I no longer need them or have already replaced them. This happens to me even in my relationship with God. I get so busy that I “forget” to take time to strengthen the relationship so other things begin to take precedence in actual practice.

Well aware of this tendency, God through Moses asked the people to “recite [these words] to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.” [Deut. 6:7-9]

So to help us remember, every morning Maxwell and I read the Upper Room devotional at breakfast. What are some of the ways that you seek to be mindful about your relationship with God?

Deuteronomy 6:4-6

Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart.

The Grass Withers

A friend of mine mused recently whether 2010 has just been a colossal waste of time. Several other friends immediately reminded him of what he has accomplished this year—the renovation of what was almost a decrepit house into a wonderful, sturdy beautiful home for his daughter and her family—and of the time he has had with his two young grandsons. He said he wasn’t thinking of it personally but in terms of civilization.

I think about this year and in some ways I know what he was talking about. We have witnessed quite a lot that is disturbing. The list would vary depending what side of the aisle one occupies politically, but there has been enough disturbing news to fill many lists. And on the personal side, I look at the pile of medical reports and insurance forms that indicates a bit of our journey this year. It can be almost enough to make me cry, “Do over!” or “Let’s get to 2011 fast!”

I would prefer to look back at a year and tally up all that has been wonderful—there has been joy, for sure: watching Aaliyah grow and seeing my sons mature not the least among them. As I look back, I do see the joy, I see the blossoms, but I also have become ever more aware of what Isaiah wrote, that the “constancy of people is like the flower of the field.” It withers; it fades. If I am to build my happiness, my contentment there, I will be surely disappointed. Isaiah goes on to say, “The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.” This is a guiding principle. Here I can put my trust and hope. “On Christ the solid rock I stand; all other ground is sinking sand.”

Where do you put your trust and hope?

The Gifts of Christmas

When I was a little girl, I was always really excited about Christmas. On Christmas Eve, I would lay awake in bed listening closely to hear Santa’s sleigh bells. Living in south Texas, we didn’t have a fireplace, but I knew that Santa would come in to the house however he could. We left out milk and sugar cookies for him on the piano bench. In the morning, there would only be a bit of milk left in the glass and just crumbs on the plate, stockings full of fruit and candy along with a special gift from Santa for each of us.

When I was twelve, my grandparents were in a car accident on Christmas Day, while heading to our Christmas evening dinner. Granddaddy died. Ever after that, Christmas always had a bit of a sad touch to it as well. I tried to assuage that sadness by concentrating on the gifts—choosing just the perfect gifts for everyone, and anticipating the gifts I would receive. I found, however, that the feeling of emptiness grew.

As I have reflected on this over the years, I have realized that the gifts don’t really matter to me. I do enjoy seeing others open their gifts. I enjoy their delightedness when I open the ones they gave me. What I appreciate the most is being with those I love—family and close friends—and knowing that in an amazing gift of love God chose to come and live with us in order to bring us life.

So on Christmas morning this year, in the midst of the presents, I will give thanks for my family around me, for my family who lives in other states, for those who I will not see again until the Day of Resurrection, and for friends who fill my life with love. I pray that you may know joy from this gift of God whose love is so full that the Father and the Son and the Spirit all encompass us with ever-flowing grace and mercy.

When My Boat Rides Low

A mentor of mine had a really helpful image to me: I sit in a small boat in water that has mines under the surface. When my boat floats gently on the surface, it doesn’t bump into the mines and all is smooth, but sometimes for whatever reason my boat rides low in the water and tends to bump into the mines which rock my boat and increase the chance of bumping into more mines.

There are days I wake up and don’t know why I feel out of sorts, or maybe I at least vaguely know, but my ability to deal with stress and anxiety is reduced. I tend to be more snappish and pass on my anxiety to others, which increases the volatility in the relationship. Do you know that feeling?

So what do I do? What is my responsibility? I could say to others, “This is how I feel. I should be able to express my feelings. Just deal with it.” Or I could say to myself, “Oo, this is how I am feeling. I need to rein in my words and actions especially today so that I don’t add to the stress and anxiety going around.” And of course, that can be harder to do when my boat is riding low in the water.

Our society has encouraged us to “express ourselves,” not to hold back on giving voice to our emotions, but I don’t see that it has made us any better adjusted. I see anger, frustration and resentment increasing rather than the opposite. It is important to be aware of how we feel, but I don’t believe it is necessary to express all of those feelings aloud, or even silently with actions. I believe it is more important to decide what my guiding principle will be, and stick with it, even when it is difficult. I would say that a good guiding principle is what Jesus said is the second greatest commandment—the first being to love the Lord our God with all our heart, our soul, and our mind—is to love our neighbor as ourself. He didn’t say that this is easy; and it has little to do with feelings or emotions. It is a choice to make so that when my boat rides low and gets rocked by the mines, I have something else to lean on that is more steady and trustworthy than just my feelings and emotions.

What do you think?

The Desert Blooms

Can you imagine it? The desert—the wilderness. No life apparent as far as one can see. Don’t we know that wilderness at times? Haven’t we lived there—where everything is dry and barren? We look for life, for water, always walking to the edge of the next dune, only to find more dryness, more barrenness.

As I think of some of those times in my life, I know the smell of the dryness, the heat—or maybe, it’s that sense of eternal cold, when I will never feel warm again, the feeling that this is what will always be, that there is no way out.

I knew that feeling when I felt so completely alone my first semester in seminary. I knew that feeling during the years when our infertility seemed overwhelming. I have known that feeling during the years of dealing with a son’s rebellion. I know that feeling now in moments when hope seems to fail.

Where are or where have been places in your life that have been dry and barren, where there seems to be no way towards life?

 As you look at this picture, hold the images of those places in your life where hope seems to fail. As we sit or walk in the wilderness, we can hardly imagine anything else, where any hope can shine into the darkness.

And yet, we hear startling words of hope from Isaiah. The same prophet who has spent chapter after chapter telling of the devastation that is coming, painting images of barren wilderness, suddenly offers the people, and us, a new image—the dessert blooms--

a desert that rejoices with life. He tells us that the deaf will hear, the blind will see, the lame shall not just walk, but shall leap like a deer. The burning sand will become like a pool of refreshing water. The trackless wastes will be transformed into a highway, a holy way for God’s people.

We hear this not only from Isaiah, but also from Matthew. John the Baptist sits in prison, and hears of Jesus. He sends a question: are you he—the one for whom we wait, or do we have to keep waiting? Jesus sends this word back: "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.” Almost the very words of Isaiah. The desert shall be transformed. The dry barren wastes will blossom with hope and life.

And it is still happening today. As we move on through Advent, this season of preparation, we hear refrains of hope where there was none. Mary in anticipation sings:

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

The barrenness of the desert gives way as God turns everything upside down. Springs gush forth in the wilderness. The lowly are lifted up. The blind see. The lame walk. The hopeless dare to hope. The highway of our God becomes our way where we had seen none.

Can you imagine it? The desert—the wilderness—blossoming with life as far as we can see. Do we have eyes to see? Do we have ears to hear of the deeds of our God? Do we have hearts to expect it? Do we have lips to speak the good news?

Wait for it, James says. Be patient and wait so that we can see that the coming of the Lord is near. See… Do you see how God comes even into the desert? Do you see how the waters of our God flow in the wilderness? Look. Listen. 

Isaiah 35:1-10

Matthew 11:2-11

A Guiding Principle

  I have tended for years to act almost as a human pretzel, bending myself constantly in order to accommodate others. Now in terms of hospitality, and making room for the stranger, flexibility is a good thing, but I have learned that in other situations, especially chronic ones, it leads to anger.

  While saying "no" when in all actuality a "yes" is not impossible may feel bad, a little too self-centered, I have been developing a guiding principle along the lines of this: “your lack of planning does not become "my" emergency.”

  For years, I have stepped in to prevent failure by my boys, and others. I have discovered that this is not helpful, and in fact over time is actually harmful--to them, and to me. So this morning when my younger son was working to finish up a project for class today, I helped by making his lunch (his job), but when he realized that some things were not going to be finished in time, he said, "unless you could take me to school." And I said, "no." This is not an unwieldy project that cannot be carried on the bus. This was not something that he did not know about until the last minute. He has known and he has been working on it, but not as diligently as needed. So we rolled up the poster board and secured it with rubber bands for the bus trip. My guess is that he has done enough work to turn it in, and maybe will have the opportunity to fine-tune it during the day even. I will gladly take him to school when a project is larger than can be carried on the bus, especially with prior planning. Could I have taken him? Yes, it was not impossible, but this way he is learning that he needs to get his own work done in the proper time and not rely on others to carry him through.

  Yesterday morning, I gave my older son a ride to the Metro to get to his job. As we pulled up, he said, "oh, there goes my train." Unsaid, but still conveyed was a question about me taking him all the way to work. My answer was, "oh, too bad." In reality another train comes in 10 minutes. Could I have taken him to work? Well, it wasn't impossible though it was highly inconvenient, but if I continue to step into the gap, he is not going to learn to be responsible and accountable for his own actions.

  Believe it or not, this has been difficult work for me. It's not about only doing things when they are convenient for me, or don't cause me stress. It's about helping my boys and myself take responsibility for our own actions.

  What guiding principles help you when faced with difficult situations?

Irritations

Have you ever found yourself wondering why other people get so steamed so easily that they honk at the car in front of them right at the moment the light turns green? The other day Jen and I went to lunch to talk about planning for church. On the way, a driver (of a Honda Civic, I’m mortified to say) honked at everyone almost all the way. A van turned into the street to make a u-turn, another mini-van followed so closely that the u-turn could not be easily accomplished. Our lane was effectively blocked, and the Civic driver kept honking—as if that would really help the matter. As soon as the lane cleared, the driver zigged and zagged around cars—and actually made it to the light at Seven Corners just ahead of us, which made me smile in self-righteous piety.

It’s easy for me to scoff at the absurd behavior, until I get to see it in myself. Andrew drove my car last night for an errand. This morning, I opened the door to find my seat moved all the way back, and leaning as far possible. At first, I found it irritating because I would have to reset everything to be right for me, but then I heard a car horn honking at another driver at the light, I suddenly saw how even this small irritation is a part of the same continuum as those drivers. I remembered the childhood lesson that anytime I point my finger at someone, there are three other fingers pointing back at me.

Oh, to pause, take a deep breath, and let it out releasing the silly irritations that get to me so that I can find the joy that God finds in those who irritate me. And in this joy may I find expectant waiting this Advent season.

Romans 12:3

For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of yourself more highly than you ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned.

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!