Trying to Be a Bridge of Grace

Over the last several days, if you have been on Facebook, you may have noticed a blossoming of profile pictures containing a red rectangle with an equal sign in it. This is to symbolize that these persons are supporters of marriage equality regardless of sexual orientation. One young adult member of Christ Crossman wrote to ask me what the stand of the UMC is. This is a part of what I wrote in reply:

“Many, in the USA, in the UMC would take a progressive stand, but there are also many-- and also in the global church, especially in Africa and the Philippines who do not. Currently, the official stand in The Book of Discipline is not for that view. Last year at General Conference there was a resolution proposed to admit that we do not all agree on this. A coalition of conservative Americans joined with the African and Filipino delegates to defeat that resolution--which wasn't seeking actively to change the BOD, but to admit we don't agree.

“My stand is that when I don't know for absolute sure, I choose to err on the side of grace. I have been hosting sessions that I call Holy Conferencing where persons who do not necessarily agree sit at the same table for discussion that is primarily aimed at learning how to listen to one another rather than batter the other into silence because they don't agree.

“Just as I do not put bumper stickers on my car, I don't use Facebook to proclaim my positions. I have no problem with others doing it. I often cheer when I see or read statuses, and cringe when I read others. My own call is to be a bridge or a mediator.

“Our God is far larger and more gracious than most of us can conceive. We live in the in-between times: the Kingdom is among us, but not yet fully revealed. Christ is victor but the powers that be are still fighting.

“Don't give up on the UMC by any means. Keep us growing towards the fullness of God's vision for us. And when you encounter someone who does not agree with you, love them anyway. Extend them grace. Pray honestly for the best possibilities that God has for them, not for how we may want them to be. 

“I give thanks for how I see God at work in you and in your life. You and so many of the young adults (that I first knew as youth) give me great hope. You are indeed living out the call of Christ in your life. You have more opportunity to be the face and hands of Christ to more people through your life in a "secular" job than I do in the church. You are why I do what I do. You inspire me.”

Hold - Clutch

Part of my routine in the morning is to read the paper and then work most of the puzzles in it. In this morning’s Jumble, the clue of one of the words was “hold.” The letters were unjumbled to make “clutch.” Immediately, I thought about holding on tightly, often too tightly.

After I finished the puzzles I sat down at my spinning wheel to practice. For me it has been like rubbing my stomach, patting my head, and jumping on one foot, all while reciting the Gettysburg Address. In other words, there are several things going on all at once. After pre-drafting the fibers, which means pulling them lengthwise so they aren’t so thick, I start the wheel turning by working the treddle which twists the starter yarn to which I attach the drafted fibers. Now this is where I have been having trouble getting the rhythm going. While my right hand manages the twist keeping it from going further into the fibers than it should, my left hand drafts the fibers out more. The right hand is supposed to let the energy or twist build up just enough, and then let the yarn move on to the bobbin. If my right hand holds too tightly, the new yarn keeps twisting without moving on to the bobbin. If I hold too loosely, the fibers that have not yet been drafted get twisted up. Or I allow the yarn to move on to the bobbin before it has enough twist.

Today, as I plied together two single yarns I had spun, I reflected about holding and clutching. As a mother, if I hold on to my sons too tightly in a clutch then they don’t develop enough independence and initiative on their own. If I hold too loosely, then they might feel adrift in the world before they are ready to take it on. It’s a delicate balance.

There’s also a balance in holding and yet not clutching with our faith, and in our life. Jesus said that “unless a grain of wheat falls to the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain. But if it dies, it bears much fruit.” If we love our lives so much that we clutch on to them, then we never get the experience of trusting God enough to let go so that fruit can develop.

I am just beginning to catch the rhythm of holding the twist and moving it on to the bobbin. Nothing fancy yet, but I can see yarn growing under my eyes. In my life and faith, it is also a process of learning to catch the rhythm of holding on to Christ and trusting enough to let go. I think I will keep on practicing.

Where I'm From

The following is my response to the online Lenten Retreat entry, Return--by Way of Story, by Jan Richardson and Garrison Doles:

Where I'm From

I’m from many places woven together--

from the black, flat soil of near coastal Texas

with a cottonfield across the alley

and cottonmouth snakes nearby

and rattlers in the yard.

I’m from Mickey and Mary Grace

who hailed from Alabama

meaning weeks in the summer

swimming with cousins in lakes

created by the dammed Tennessee.

I’m from Virginia which confused

me for years, a Texas/Alabama girl transplanted

in colonial soil with a history that

sometimes held its nose up high

not allowing me in its close circles.

I’m from a year in California

living on soil that had filled in the bay

knowing that I didn’t belong for long

and forging a link with the East

I could finally claim.

I’m from ‘Hooville, a center of the universe

finding in the foothills friends at last that endure

for a lifetime, slowly hearing my call

to proclaim and embody God’s holy

healing Word and Body.

I’m from the varied soils of North Carolina

studying down the road from tobacco

curing redolently in the warehouses,

traveling the mountains and hollers of

little churches in the summers.

I’m from the churches of Virginia by

graveyards of saints who lived and

died in a journey of faith living again

in the lives of their children’s children

who most accepted me as their pastor.

I’m from a partnership in marriage

with highs and deep lows, serving together

until his journey began to take a different

path towards Rome, no longer receiving

bread and wine, Body and Blood, from my hands.

I’m from the deep soil of being a mother

of two miracles--a son given by a teenage girl,

placed in my arms at ten minutes old; and a

son born late when I had thought

my womb would never bear.

I’m from the soil of the cemetery

across the road where my husband of

many highs and deep lows is buried

giving me a taste of widow’s weeds and

in the midst of grief hope for new life that now arises.

I’m from the deep soil of friends and colleagues

with whom I can share and vision together

how God’s grace and mercy can touch and

deepen a community that goes beyond

the bounds of church walls.

I’m from many places yet unseen or explored

that with those known weave together

a tapestry unique and beautiful

of colors and textures

to enliven the soul.

A Pause in the Action

There are times when we need a break, a pause in the action. Today was just such a day. There was just enough snow to call off school and close many offices, but not so much that we had to get out and shovel it off. While I still did work, I did it at home without feeling pressure of a deadline.

One of the top ten laws that God gave to the covenant people was to keep the Sabbath holy, a day of rest set apart to honor God and self. Jesus reminded us that the Sabbath was made for us, not the other way around.

When I work out with my trainer, he reminds me that the pause I need between exertions is not just because I am a neophyte. We need to pause between exertions so that our bodies, down to the very fibers of our muscles, can recover. If we keep going and going, then we actually can break down those fibers. So it is with our whole beings. We need a pause between exertions so that we can recover and grow stronger.

I give thanks for this day, this pause in the action.

Mark 2:27-28

Then he said to them, “The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath; so the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath.”

Breathing, again, & Blood Pressure

I know I have written about breathing more than once before. Please allow me the grace for another reflection on this.

When I started working with a trainer, he kept reminding me to breathe. I often had my rhythms backwards, exhaling when I should inhale and vice versa. He explained to me that I should be exhaling when I am contracting my muscles and inhaling on the release. Okay, that sounds good, and actually familiar advice from others who work out.

Sitting in our midweek prayer time in the Chapel, centering on the presence of God among us, my thoughts have often turned towards the rhythm of my breathing. It is as important during centering prayer as it is during exercise. I have spent some weeks reflecting on the connection and trying to understand it.

Working out is exercise that requires a discipline. Centering prayer, or any type of prayer for that matter, is also exercise that requires discipline. When I work with my breath during midweek prayer, I can help my body and my mind to relax and settle into God’s presence. This too is familiar.

What I have pondered lately on my breathing during both my workouts and my time of centering prayer is why it is important to exhale when the muscles are contracting. I asked my trainer this. At first, he talked about the importance of the rhythm and actually doing it, but I asked again specifically why is it important to exhale then. Ah, it is mainly to help control the blood pressure to keep it from elevating too high. He also said it is not as crucial for people who do not have cardiovascular issues, but for those who do, it is vital. I listened to that because I inherited a familial tendency towards high blood pressure.

The connection in my time of centering prayer has been revealing itself to me lately. When I seek to center on God’s presence, I definitely need to contract my spiritual muscles to let go of distractions and barriers, and I need to relax my intake to allow God’s Spirit to move within and through me. By exhaling as I pray, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God,” I am intentionally moving away from distractions and barriers. I pause at what I think of as the bottom of my breath to emphasize the release of those things that would keep me from focusing on God. Then as I inhale, I pray, “have mercy on me, a sinner,” staying open, not tense or stressed, to allow God’s Spirit to fill me with mercy.

John 20.22:

When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.

Timeline of the Universe

A couple of years ago, my imagination was captured by an image Jennifer Wiseman shared at the VA Seminar of Science, Theology & Ethics. Wiseman, an astrophysicist, is the Senior Project Scientist for the Hubble Space Telescope at the Goddard Space Flight Center. She is also a Christian, and a United Methodist to boot!

The image is the timeline of the universe. To me, it directs me to the enormity and eternity of God. What it shows is the 13.77 billion years of the development of the universe. I know that someone could look at this image and see it in an entirely different, even prosaic way, but I can’t. I keep this image on my iPad. Sometimes, I need to have a sense of perspective that time is a part of creation which is far more than my little slice of it.

Tonight that image became an even deeper metaphor as we talked about grace during our Wednesday night Lenten study. God’s grace has been flowing for well over the 13.77 billion years of this universe. This grace that floods my life and makes all things new is a part of the enormity of God’s eternity. The grace, or love if you prefer, bursting forth from God has moved and is moving through the creation of the stars to the first sunrise on earth to the tiniest atom in the tiniest cell in my being. As it has moved into me, so it seeks to move through me and flow from me radiating the eternal Yes of God’s creating power. God is not just a first mover who set creation into motion and then stepped back. God is intimately touching every single part of all the universe, or even universes.

And what is so amazing is that the best and most whole image we have of that powerful, eternal grace is in the person of Jesus, who, “though he was in the form of God, did not grasp at equality with God, but emptied himself…”

And all I can do is marvel and praise.

Psalm 8: 3-5

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

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

Yet you have made them a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honor.

The Winter of Listening

The Winter of Listening

Last week, I participated in a discernment retreat where we used the paradoxes of winter—dormancy/growing, dark/light—to reflect on our own lives. I share my reflection on a poem called “The Winter of Listening.” The questions come from lines in the poem.

In what ways do I diminish the presence of what is precious inside of me?

Just as that small germ of an idea or concept or image rests in the dark contours of my mind, needing the dark to germinate, can be aborted or nearly so when light is shone too quickly, and too early, upon it, so too can that which is precious in me that needs time to grow before it can be revealed. Calling attention to it before its time can cause it to wither either from an intense spotlight glare or from lack of fencing and boundaries to protect its tenderness.

What is the great shout of joy waiting to be born inside of me?

Yes, what is it? Partially, it is already coming to birth as I have finally begun to accept the affirmation that my church has given me, and now that in some ways I am free from feeling under a harshly critical judgment from Jeff. Oh, that I could truly have come to this joy without losing my partner. Oh, that we could have come to this joy for each of us, instead of what brought joy to us taking us away from each other. Not fusion, but experiencing full joy for what was growing in our own self, AND in the other as well.

What in my life disturbs and then nourishes?

Hearing the affirmation time and time again, and coming to accept it has meant that I am now accountable for the gift. I can no longer point to circumstances that would not allow me to live into it fully. This disturbs the soil so that new seeds, visions, and hopes can come to fruition.

The call to the artist in me comes not only in the form of weaving and design, but also in the form of my ministry--preaching, pastoring, mentoring, walking the journey with my colleagues on my staff and the lay leaders of our congregation. There sometimes is a messy accountability for the other in partnership, when it would seem easier to walk the path without regard or responsibility for someone else. I don't see that mutual accountability as an unhealthy fusion, but as a mutual celebration of each one's giftedness.

Genesis 8:22

As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.

A Cra$$ Subject

Tonight in talking about simplicity we touched on that subject that makes everyone cringe and try to slink away. You know that untouchable topic--money. One person said that it feels crass to talk about it--kind of like talking about the consistency of the contents of a baby's diaper.

I know what they mean. I don’t like it anymore than the next person, maybe even less, especially when someone starts to meddling with my private affairs. My parents would not ever say how much they made. In fact, they said it was none of our business. Maybe that has something to do with my discomfort.

During college, I went home with a friend for a visit. I was instructed that there were three areas of discussion that were verboten: money, sex and religion. These days it’s mostly money that can’t be discussed; religion is second; and sex is not on the list at all these days.

Another person at the table said that when her son was almost getting to his teen years, she sat down with him to show him how much she made, how much other income there was. And then she started marking down all the expenses--mortgage, insurance, food, clothes, savings, etc. At the end, there was “this much” money left. It made a huge impression on him.

What a great and open way to approach the subject. I think I need to get a little less uptight about it, then it would have less power in my life perhaps. After all, Jesus talked far more about money and our relationship with it than almost any other subject.

Matthew 6.24:

No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.

Confirmation (?) of What Lies Beyond

I was asked an interesting question this morning. In light of my experience with persons who are dying, have I ever witnessed anything that is a confirmation of what lies beyond death? Wow, that gave me pause for thought.

I have never been present when someone has seen a vision. Lois Loveless told me herself that she had seen Jesus standing across the room. No one has spoken of seeing a light or hearing voices.

I was with my mother, holding her hand, during her last hours. Her last words to my brother on the phone, and then to me, were “thank you.” She had already said, “I love you.” In those hours of sitting with her, I talked to her while she slept. I heard her breathing slow until I didn’t hear it anymore.

During Jeff’s last days, he didn’t really want anyone hovering around him. He wanted a short visit and then to be left alone. It was hard not to be able to be there with him as much as I wanted. It was his fear of pain that kept him agitated. Once they were able to ease his anxiety, he was more peaceful especially when some of his fellow faculty from St. Charles stood around him praying the rosary for hours.

So I have no confirmation in that sort of sense of what lies beyond death. I do believe to the depths of my being that eternal life doesn’t wait until death to begin. Our eternal life begins as we walk with God here on earth. We have glimpses of the joy and peace that will reign. When we come to the moment when the breath leaves our bodies for good, it is natural part of the journey of life. I haven’t become inured to or blasé about death by any means. I can still cry and be sad, but I can also have a sense of rejoicing and release, especially when the person who has died has been ill.

We are mortal, and every single moment of our mortal lives are lived within the care of the One in whose image we have been made, and whose breath is within us. That care will continue to surround us when our mortal life is ceased, and the eternal life that began in walking with Christ will continue in unabated joy and praise. That’s the confirmation I have of what lies ahead.

Isaiah 40:8

The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.

Working With a Trainer

Today, I began working with a trainer to start getting back into shape after the layoff due to my knee surgery. I want to know how to do the exercises correctly so that I don't do harm in the process. I know that even after learning and doing them right, it is easy over time to slip into some bad habits without meaning to. It's the same with following a sensible eating plan. I know that by paying attention and working consciously at it I was able to get into better habits. Over the last fifteen months, I let it slip big time.

Some people seem much more able to keep to a discipline on their own. I find it hard to do on my own, and yet I know I am also a tough nut. I don't want to let others have too much say in my life. In a way, it's a paradox. I like being with other people. I like sharing ideas, and building a process together. The result is almost always better, I think, but, and this is a big BUT, I get antsy when someone corrects me. I don't usually tell them to mind their own business directly--after all, I was raised by a southern lady--but I will tend to go on in my own way.

Frankly, Jeff and I were a lot alike in this regard. Working on projects together could be very stressful. I had my ideas. He had his ideas. And they didn't always match. Packing the car for a trip was difficult if we did it together. My way of fitting the puzzle of suitcases and stuff together was definitely not his way. I learned to let him do it when he wanted to do it.

This is a general area or aspect of my life that I need to work on. So I will start by working with a trainer for physical fitness. Hopefully, it will eventually move to other areas of my life, bit by bit, but do remember that I said I'm a tough nut, so the process may not be very pretty. Prayers for the process are appreciated, just don't tell me, okay? :-)

Breathe innn…Breathe ouuuuuuuut…

Breathe innn…Breathe ouuuuuuuut…  That may look strange, but that is one of the simplest techniques to relax, to be in prayer, and to manage the perception of pain. 

When I am tense or stressed, I have a tendency to take shallow breaths. It’s mostly an unconscious thing until I realize that I am yawning a lot because I am not taking in enough oxygen. The first time I remember having an episode of this type of hyperventilating, I was only twelve. I didn’t understand it back then. All I knew was that I felt like I couldn’t get enough air. It can be a somewhat vicious cycle—tension leads to shallow breaths leads to more tension leads to even shallower breaths. It takes a conscious effort to break that cycle.

When I was pregnant, Jeff and I had taken the childbirth preparation classes, including practicing the different patterns of breathing for use during the different stages of labor. A few hours after labor began, I started having tremendous pain in my back. Jeff remembered the lessons and began giving me directions for breathing. Unfortunately, he was giving the directions for the breathing pattern for the end of labor. These breaths are shorter and more intense. This only made the pain feel even worse. My labor nurse sent Jeff out into the hall; she got right in front of me, face to face, and began breathing in the slower, deeper pattern I needed. I began to relax some, at least enough to get an epidural.

I have thought about it this week. Someone I was visiting in the hospital was having pain. Her niece was trying to guide her in the more relaxed pattern of breathing to help ease her perception of pain and nausea. That reminded me of Jeff’s struggle with pain. He had never handled pain well even at the best of times. The pain in his last weeks frightened him and made him tense up which only increased his perception of the pain. I wish I had been able to do for him what the labor nurse did for me, but his fear at that point was too great to allow it. These days I often have to work at breathing in and breathing out instead of holding my breath, or breathing shallowly from the top of my lungs instead of slowly and deeply from my diaphragm.

Breathe innn…Breathe ouuuuuuuut… God’s Holy Spirit seeks to fill my being.

Genesis 2:7

Then the Lord God formed adamah from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the adamah became a living being.

Take thou the authority...

“Take thou the authority… “ Bishop Robert Blackburn’s hand pressed on my head as he said these words the night I was ordained an Elder in the United Methodist Church. I came to that night having completed my Master of Divinity degree at Duke, and having written papers and been interviewed by the Board of Ordained Ministry. I received official stamps of approval along the way so I could come to that moment of being granted authority “to preach the Word of God and to administer the holy Sacraments in the Congregation.”

An online definition of authority is “The power or right to give orders, make decisions, and enforce obedience: "he had absolute authority over his subordinates." This gives a fairly standard, yet hierarchical perspective. Authority may indeed be granted from on high in a sense, but it has to be affirmed by the people with whom we live and work. I remember writing this in the very papers leading to my ordination. I wrote it because I believed it then. I believe it even more now. I have come to know it in the core of my being.

In every place I have served, I have received grace from the people with whom I have been in ministry, lay and clergy. I give thanks for these gifts over the years. At Christ Crossman, I have especially become more deeply aware that gifts grow when they are affirmed.

True authentic authority is not assuming “the power or right to give orders, make decisions, and enforce obedience.” It is a grace that comes from the community. It is a weaving together of our experiences and our journeys, our tears and our laughter, our questions and our affirmations, and so much more.

“Take thou the authority,” Bishop Blackburn’s hand pressed upon my head then, and now your hands press upon my head, my hands, and hold me up. You have graced me. Thanks be to God.

Another Word

I heard words tonight that resonated with me: anxiety and paralyzing fear. What do they have in common? Maybe not much at first blush, but on reflection they are reactions to the state of the world today.

One of us at our book group confessed that she had been closely following all the news about the fiscal cliff and feeling a great deal of anxiety, while her husband was not that absorbed by it. The tension and anxiety have been contagious. Some times it is easy to be paralyzed by them.

In contrast to the paralyzing anxiety and dread, I think about people who are faithfully going through their daily struggles and maintaining trust in the midst of it. I remember my brother-in-law Alan who radiates a calm spirit in the midst of dealing with his cancer. Karen, as she describes her experience of picking out a wig, reminds me that humor can get us through some dark places.

It’s all too easy to focus on the words and images of the world and see darkness, fear, anxiety, and forget that there is another Word proclaimed. The Light has come. “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light.”

The media—print, broadcast and online—are filled with the news that the fiscal cliff was averted, for now. That’s good news, and yet the true great good news has nothing to do with political machinations. This is the news that speaks of joy and hope—the Light has come and the darkness cannot overcome it.

John 1:5

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

Watching from the Edge

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

Maybe this is a part of what contributes to my style of leadership. I don't see myself as stepping ahead of a group, leading a charge. While that is a legitimate type of leadership and works for some people, and even on occasion for me, I see myself more at work listening—both to God and to people-- gathering information, sensing call and direction. I test the waters, refining and making modifications in the very midst of testing.

Snipping away parts of folded paper to make a snowflake—this belongs, that

doesn’t. Weaving free-form without a pattern or preset design—choosing what colors work together now, not then.

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

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

Matthew 24:36

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

Where Is Joy When the Darkness Presses In?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Community in Silence

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

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

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

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

Matthew 18.20:

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

Dark. Simplicity. Silence.

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

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

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

Dark…. Simplicity… Silence…

Psalm 62.5

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

The Best Laid Plans

In 1786, the Scot poet Robert Burns turned up a mouse’s nest while plowing a field. He wrote a poetic apology to the mouse:

“But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane [you aren't alone]


In proving foresight may be vain:


The best laid schemes o' mice an' men


Gang aft a-gley, [often go awry] 


An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,


For promised joy.”

How often that feels true to me! I make plans, considering all sorts of details, and then find that I have to reconsider it all because of some unforeseen circumstance. I do find a big difference in how I handle those unforeseen circumstances now than in the past. Part of that difference comes from having more experience. Part of it comes from making a choice to think more about things than simply react. Of course, I don’t do this perfectly by any means. I can still come close to blowing a gasket--at least it feels that way at times.

The Teacher in Ecclesiastes considers all he has done and finds that it is vanity—a chasing after the wind. Sometimes it does feel like that. All my plans are for naught, especially if I make them thinking that it must happen as I engineer it. That would be vanity, a chasing after the wind.

I don’t believe that God throws a monkey wrench into the plans I make, but I do think that when I have to step back and reconsider the situation, I can often find a deeper sense of God’s presence, and a new way to view what I consider to be an inconvenience. This happens in small situations where a plan to get a ride falls through. It happens in a much larger arena as I still work on re-thinking what my life is going to be like without my partner. Even in the midst of loss and pain, in God’s presence, I can find joy.

Ecclesiastes 3:1

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.

Taking Time to Discern

I have tended to have a rule of thumb about making purchases, though I confess it’s harder, though not impossible, to keep when shopping online. When I have seen something that catches my eye, I often won’t purchase it right away, unless it’s for something that has a deadline—not the item, but what it’s for. I might even go back to see it several times. If it’s not there, then that seals the decision that I won’t buy it. More often than not, I decide not to buy it. It’s part of a discernment process. It’s when I haven’t followed that rule of thumb that I tend to have regrets about making a purchase.

I have a similar discernment style about other decisions as well. I begin to sense a call about something. I have to mull it over, come back to it several times, before I can get a really clear view of what I should do. Sometimes the decision is taken out of my hands because an opportunity has passed by before I acted on it, and that is generally okay. Perhaps it becomes the road not taken, but the road I do take seems richer for the time that was spent waiting.

This week I had a conversation with someone who senses a call that he or she wants to answer, and yet at the same time finds herself or himself apparently reluctant to embrace the call fully. The time spent waiting could be seen as trying to avoid the risk of a new venture. That time could also be seen as weighing the call, allowing it to define itself more fully.

I believe strongly that there can be multiple good roads to take, calls to answer, and that God’s blessings can work through whichever one is taken. That is something for which to be thankful.

Proverbs 1:5-6

Let the wise also hear and gain in learning, and the discerning acquire skill, to understand a proverb and a figure, the words of the wise and their riddles.

One Thing Amid Distractions

Today on my walk I reflected on Monday’s walk and how I became distracted from my purposeful stride, stopping at least twice for conversation, making me late for the rest of the day's work. Sometimes my life gets really full and I need to be reminded of what Jesus told Martha—that she was distracted by many things, and that Mary, in sitting at his feet, had chosen the better part, to be single of focus, to be mindful of the one thing that is needed. This brings peace and lightness to me as I imagine myself in Mary’s place, not distracted by the many things in the way.

Just before Jesus came to Martha’s house, he told a story in answer to a lawyer’s question about who was his neighbor. Robbers fall upon a man traveling the road to Jericho from Jerusalem. The man is beaten and left half dead on the road. Two men, a priest and a Levite, passed him by. A Samaritan helped him. Anyone traveling this road needed to be alert and aware, mindful, for it was dangerous as the first man found out. The priest and Levite were each mindful; they had duties in and around the Temple for which they needed to be ritually clean. Helping the victim would have distracted them from their purpose for traveling, and so they passed by. The Samaritan had to have a purpose for traveling that dangerous road, and so he was needful and mindful as well, but as he came upon the victim, he did not pass by but took time and effort to help.

Ah, to sit at Jesus’ feet and look upon his face in rapt attention, this is what I need. I look into his eyes, and there I see myself reflected, but as I look more closely, I see others reflected there as well. In sitting with Jesus, I find that I am called to be in relationship with those I see there. The priest and the Levite were needful of one thing, and they weren’t distracted from their purpose, leaving a man wounded. The Samaritan enlarged his singular gaze to see and help the wounded man. My conversational “distractions” on Monday allowed me to see people who were reflected in Jesus’ eyes and become aware of their wounds and need for care. I was able to continue on my journey--my walk—offering them into God’s care for healing and wholeness, and to look even more deeply in Jesus’ eyes and find peace.

Luke 10:41-42

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