A Season for Pruning

I haven't had a whole lot of time to spend in my yard.  I really want to.  My neighbor and I struck what turned out to be a good deal for both of us and he cleared all of the "dead" stuff out and now I want to plant and work and see what happens.  There just hasn't been time.  But the roses seem to know what to do anyway.  Drowning in deadness for so long, they seemed to breathe a longed-for breath once it had been cleared away.  I did get out there one day and pruned them, deadheading, removing all of the old blossoms and dried up leaves that were no more.  Again, they seemed relieved, almost free.  And then I waited.  First the bush with the medium pink roses began to bloom.  It is now full of about eight roses.  After that, the dark pink one began to fill itself with color.  Then the two yellow-flowered bushes followed by the white ones.  My favorite bush always blooms last. (Isn't that typical?  Does it bloom last because it's my favorite or is it my favorite because it blooms last?)  Right now it has about eight or ten buds on it that are trying desperately to burst forth with the most incredible strata of yellow, coral, and red colors on every flower.  And so I wait a little longer.  I thought yesterday would be the day but last night there were still tightly-closed but expectant buds.  All I can do is wait now.  There is nothing that I can do to hurry the process along.

You know, we comfortably think of God as omnipotent, all-powerful, assuming that if we can't or won't get it done, God will somehow be able to swoop in and clean up our mess, somehow force our blooms out of hiding.  I don't know.  At the risk of questioning the Almighty's power, is that really the way it works?  Is God really omnipotent?  I don't see it.  Because you see, God, in infinite wisdom and omniscience, gave away a piece of the Godself and, in turn, denied God's own omnipotence.  God chose to give away the power to choose.  It's called free will.  And so God lovingly and patiently waits.

But what God does is give us a season for pruning.  It's called Lent.  It is the season when God with the profound skill of a master gardener shows us how to prune and deadhead our lives, clearing away all the dried up growth and giving us room to breath and grow.  And God waits for us to choose life, waits for us to choose to bloom into the most magnificent creation, waits for us to choose to walk toward God and become what God intended us to be.  And still God waits until even the last bloom springs forth.  There is nothing that God can do to hurry the process along except to wait with us everyday and try to pluck the deadness that we hold so tightly from our grip.  God gave omnipotence away so that we could choose life.  We cannot do it without God but God will not do it without us.  So ponder anew what the Almighty can do!

So, in this Lenten season, this time for pruning, choose Life.  God is waiting.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

LENT 4A: Images of Light

Lectionary Text: Ephesians 5: 8-14
For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light— for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true. Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord. Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them. For it is shameful even to mention what such people do secretly; but everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for everything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, “Sleeper, awake! Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.”

I’m sure most of you are familiar with the art of Claude Monet, the French Impressionist painter who is probably best known for his incredible landscapes and works of nature as well as for his paintings of those things that were a normal part of his own life. Probably the most fascinating part of Monet’s work are those paintings that he did as part of several series representing similar or even the same subjects—his own incredible gardens, poppy fields, a woman with a parasol, and those unusual haystacks.

The paintings in this series of haystacks were painted under different light conditions at different times of day. Monet would rise before dawn, paint the first canvas for half an hour, by which time the light had changed. Then he would switch to the second canvas, and so on. The next day and for days and months afterward, he would repeat the process. In each painting, the color of the haystack is different because the amount and quality of the light shining on the haystack is different. The subject is the same but the perspective from which it is viewed changes with the light. 

Up until this time, color was thought to be an intrinsic property of an object, such as weight or density. In other words, oranges were orange and lemons were yellow, with no variation as to the lens through which they were viewed. But with Monet’s studies in light and how it affects our view of life, that all changed. As Monet once said, “the subject is of secondary importance to me; what I want to reproduce is that which is in between the subject and me.” (I guess you could say he was painting hay while the sun shines! (sorry, couldn't resist!))  But, seriously, Monet wasn't merely painting images of haystacks; he was painting images of light.

I don't really think of this light of Christ as a bright, blinding spotlight.  It's really much more nuanced and subtle than that.  Think illuminating, rather than blinding.  And it doesn't dispel the darkness but rather enlightens it.  It casts a different light, a light that illuminates all.  God, with infinite wisdom, gave us the power and the desire to see through the darkness and glimpse the light shining through, to see the Light that is Christ.  It is a light that is always present regardless of our view, that exposes all that is visible and makes that on which it shines light itself. 

There is a Maori proverb that says "turn your face to the [light] and the shadows will fall behind you."  They are not consumed; they are still there, light streaming into their midst.  Shadows do not exist without light.  Light is what makes them visible.  We are like that.  Exposed by the Light of Christ, we become visible; and by becoming visible, we become light, children of light, images of the Light that is Christ, the Light that is God.  As I said before, what Monet painted was light.  He captured the visibility of a blank canvas and created a set of masterpieces.  Become visible; become light; become a blank canvas on which God can paint a masterpiece of light.

So, in this Lenten season, be visible, be light!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

 

Dancing With the Disciples

You know how you do those things that aren't that terrible but that you would rather most people not know--like (a.) watching soap operas, (b.) eating a whole pint of ice cream, (c.) singing along to The Sound of Music, or (d.) all of the above?  Yes, my answer is, sadly, "(d.)" and that's probably not all of the stupid things that I do!  So as long as we're inviting true confessions, I have to admit that I love Dancing With the Stars.  I know it's stupid.  But I love dancing and, perhaps even more than that, I like watching people that have never danced before, that are scared to death, that are sure that they are the next ones to be voted off by ten or so million of their closest friends, come completely out of themself and have the courage to feel a rhythm that they've never felt before.

I pray for all of us that we can do that this Lenten season.  No, not dance with one of the dance pros but, rather, to have the courage to feel a rhythm that we've never allowed ourselves to feel before. What would it take to allow ourselves to do that?  What would it take to put aside all of our preconceived ideas, needless inhibitions, and carefully laid plans and just dance?  What would it take for us to finally feel that rhythm of God that runs through us all and truly dance like no one is watching?  You know, I think that one reason my guilty pleasure "Dancing" show is so popular is not that people like to watch others fail (and sometimes even fall!), but that we admire someone who can get out of their element, who can step out of their role that they are "supposed" to live in their life.  Deep down, I am convinced, we all dream of that.  We all know that we'd be better for it.  We all know that there is a dance in our lives that we have yet to dance.  Part of what we're called to do during this season is do just that--to let go of what we think we should be doing and listen for that rhythm that runs through each of our lives, the rhythm of God calling us to dance whether or not we think we've practiced enough.

When Jesus called the disciples, one by one, I'm pretty clear that none of them were practicing dancing in their room when everyone thought they were asleep.  The truth is, they were anything but prepared.  (Hence the continual competition to be the "favorite" and to make sure they understood!)  They had planned something else for their lives--something reasonable, something realistic, something sane.  But then the beat began and they couldn't help themselves.  They could only dance.  I want to be like that.  I want to dance with the disciples.

I was watching Dancing With the Stars last night.  (Well, gee, I guess there's no hiding that now so why bother anymore!)  In one of the pre-recorded "practices", one of the "pros" told one of the "stars" that the reason he couldn't do the Jive is because he was thinking too much.  She said that he needed to feel it and follow it.  Maybe that's our problem:  We're trying to think too much, trying to reason out what God is calling us to do, trying to figure out how to fit it into our carefully-planned life.  The music has already started.  We need to start dancing!

Do you remember the T-Mobile Dance in Liverpool Station, UK about two years ago?  Look at it at: T-Mobile Dance and THEN, go to how it was made: The Making of the T-Mobile Dance.  Enough said...I guess life really is for sharing!  Perhaps we disciples could take some lessons!

"You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching, Love like you'll never be hurt, Sing like there's nobody listening, And live like it's heaven on earth."  (William W. Purkey)

So, in this Lenten season, dance to the music that's been there all along and live like it's heaven on earth.  Who's stopping you?  What are you hiding?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

LENT 4A: You're the One!

Lectionary Text:  1 Samuel 16: 1-13
The Lord said to Samuel, “How long will you grieve over Saul? I have rejected him from being king over Israel. Fill your horn with oil and set out; I will send you to Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have provided for myself a king among his sons.” Samuel said, “How can I go? If Saul hears of it, he will kill me.” And the Lord said, “Take a heifer with you, and say, ‘I have come to sacrifice to the Lord.’ Invite Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will show you what you shall do; and you shall anoint for me the one whom I name to you.” Samuel did what the Lord commanded, and came to Bethlehem. The elders of the city came to meet him trembling, and said, “Do you come peaceably?” He said, “Peaceably; I have come to sacrifice to the Lord; sanctify yourselves and come with me to the sacrifice.” And he sanctified Jesse and his sons and invited them to the sacrifice. When they came, he looked on Eliab and thought, “Surely the Lord’s anointed is now before the Lord.” But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” Then Jesse called Abinadab, and made him pass before Samuel. He said, “Neither has the Lord chosen this one.” Then Jesse made Shammah pass by. And he said, “Neither has the Lord chosen this one.” Jesse made seven of his sons pass before Samuel, and Samuel said to Jesse, “The Lord has not chosen any of these.” Samuel said to Jesse, “Are all your sons here?” And he said, “There remains yet the youngest, but he is keeping the sheep.” And Samuel said to Jesse, “Send and bring him; for we will not sit down until he comes here.” He sent and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome. The Lord said, “Rise and anoint him; for this is the one.” Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the presence of his brothers; and the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward. Samuel then set out and went to Ramah.

Once again, God has called the most unlikely, the most unexpected, and the most unprepared candidate to do God's work.  There seems to be a pattern here.  This time, God's choice is a young, but apparently good-looking, shepherd, an eighth son, from the village of Bethlehem, and from a family with no real pedigree or appropriate ancestry at all.  And with this person, God lays the road for the hope of the world.  No pressure there!  But the unlikeliness doesn't stop there.  What about Samuel? God called him to go to Jesse the Bethlehemite and anoint a new king. Well, I’m pretty sure that Saul (i.e, the King!) would not have been impressed with that had he found out. What if Samuel had just said, “You know, God, I would really rather not. That just doesn’t work into my plan.”?

In this Lenten season, what would change about our journey if we knew where we would end up, if we thought that we might end up in a place that we didn’t plan? And what would change about our life if we knew how it was all going to turn out? I mean, think about it…the boy David is out in the field just minding his own business and doing what probably generations of family members before him had done. He sees his brothers go inside one by one, probably wandering what in the world is going on. Finally, he is called in. “You’re the one!” “What do you mean I’m the one?” he probably asked in his teen-age sarcasm. “What in the world are you talking about? Don’t I even get a choice?” “Not so much.” And so David was anointed. “You’re the one!”

What would have happened if David has just turned and walked away? Well, I’m pretty sure that God would have found someone else, but the road would have turned away from where it was. It would have been a good road, a life-filled road, a road that would have gotten us where we needed to be. But it wouldn’t have been the road that God envisioned it to be.  We know how it all turned out. David started out by playing the supposed evil out of Saul with his lyre. He ultimately became a great king and generations later, a child was brought forth into the world, descended from David. The child grew and became himself anointed—this time not for lyre-playing or earthly kingship but as Messiah, as Savior, as Emmanuel, God-Incarnate. And in turn, God then anoints the ones who are to fall in line and follow him. “You’re the one”.

Do we even get a choice, you ask? Sure, you get a choice. You can close yourself off and try your best to hold on to what is really not yours anyway or you can walk forward into life as the one anointed to build the specific part of God’s Kingdom that is yours. We are all called to different roads in different ways. But the calling is specifically yours. And in the midst of it, there is a choice between death and life. Is there a choice? Not so much! Seeing the way to walk is not necessarily about seeing where the road is going. So just keep walking and enjoy the scenery along the way!

So, on this Lenten journey, look for the unexpected and walk toward it!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Lenten Discipline: Meeting and Welcoming

"Come Unto Me" Window
 St. Paul's United Methodist Church, Houston

At first glance, hospitality seems like an odd suggestion for a Lenten practice.  After all, meeting and welcoming others is a way of being or acting like a Christian, but what does it have to do with our own spiritual walk?  The truth is, hospitality is more than making cupcakes and hosting a great party (although if you do that, I'm always open for an invitation!).  It's more than making a guest feel comfortable in your home (which is, after all, the mark of any good host).  In fact, it's about more than welcoming anyone, friend or stranger, at all.  The spiritual practice of hospitality is about entering another's life and, perhaps even more difficult, allowing an other to enter yours.  It is walking the way that Christ walked--welcoming all unto himself and then allowing them to see him in the deepest and most profound way.

We struggle with this.  Our society teaches us to protect ourselves, to stand up for our place, and to not let anyone in who we do not trust.  And so we put up fences around our borders and walls around our lives all in the name of protecting what we have and who we see ourselves to be.  OK, really, at the risk of sounding trite, is that what Jesus would do?  I doubt it. After all, while we're arguing over how many additional persons to allow into this country of "respectable" immigrants (most of which are probably descended from illegal immigrants themselves!--I know my great-great-grandfather probably stowed away on a boat to get here from Germany!), Jesus is welcoming the Samaritan woman at the well and giving her life. So, let's see--respectability vs. life.  Sounds like there's a winner to me!

Maybe we've forgotten what hospitality is.  What is it to you?  For me, I think at the very least its civility.  Dr. Jim Bankston, our Senior Pastor, mentioned in today's sermon Mark DeMoss, a conservative evangelical Republican that partnered with Lanny Davis, a liberal Jewish Democrat to work on what they called The Civility Project.  They came up with a 32-word Civility Pledge that says:
            (1) I will be civil in my public discourse and behavior.
            (2) I will be respectful of others whether or not I agree with them.
            (3) I will stand against incivility when I see it.
They sent the pledge and asked for signatures from the 585 sitting members of Congress and state governors.  Well, apparently, these 32 words are pretty divisive, because they got a whole 3 signatures.  Yes, 3 SIGNATURES!  First of all, I would encourage you to write and thank Sen. Joseph Lieberman (Conn.), Rep. Frank Wolf (Va.), and Rep. Sue Myrick (NC).  Secondly, I would encourage you to read the letter at http://www.demossnews.com/resources/civility_project.pdf.  And then, maybe we need to start talking a little more about civility.  This is amazing!

As I said, civility is the LEAST, the starting point.  I think good hosts go a step farther and welcome.  And maybe those among us who do care about others will develop a spirit of tolerance and respect toward one another's lives.  But those who walk the way of Christ do more.  Those who walk the way of Christ accept one another not in spite of what they are but because of who they are--a child of God, a brother or sister in this big human family, a co-worker in bringing the vision of God to be.  You know, you don't have to become friends.  You don't have to agree.  In truth, you don't even have to like each other.  Just be open to what you can offer each other.  Just be open to the way that you can encounter God in the face of another.  We are all children of God, immigrants to this earth, visitors for a time until we finally return home together.

So, as your Lenten disciple, go and welcome a stranger and be open to what he or she can bring to your life.     

"People do not enter our lives to be coerced or manipulated, but to enrich us by their differences, and the be graciously received in the name of Christ."  (Elizabeth Canham)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Let's Go Fly a Kite!

I saw a kite flying today.  It dawned on me that it had been a really long time since I had seen one.  Do people not fly them anymore?  Is it because I live in the inner city where everything is sort of on top of everything else and there's no room?  I used to love flying kites when I was little.  Mine was blue and red.  I probably wasn't that great a kite-flyer because mine crashed a lot.  But I still loved it. I loved running along on a windy day trying to make sure that my kite stayed airborne.

Kite-flying is an interesting phenomenon, when you think about it.  You have to know how to control it against the wind and, yet, you also have to realize that you really can't control it at all.  It's more an exercise of response than control.  Really good kite-flyers have to learn that they really don't have control at all once the kite is up.  Keeping the kite flying is a matter of steering with the wind; in essence, you have to relinquish the control that you have and follow where the wind takes you. 

Maybe kite-flying would be a good Lenten practice!  So much of our lives is about control.  In fact our society implies that if we don't have control, if we're not in charge, then we have somehow failed.  That completely flies in the face (cute pun intended!) of our walk of faith.  Walking this walk of faith, this Way of Christ, is not about control; it is about response.  You have to follow where the wind takes you.  Now don't get me wrong, you still have to DO something or you'll crash into the ground (another cute pun intended!).  You still have to stay with it and sometimes run to keep up but, always, always, there is something more that will allow you to fly.

So, for one of your Lenten practice, go fly a kite! (cute pun NOT intended!--Just do it!)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

LENT 3A: On The Outside Looking In

Lectionary Text:  John 4: 5-26 (27-42)
So he came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon. A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” The woman said to him, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?” Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.” Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come back.” The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband’; for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!” The woman said to him, “Sir, I see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.” Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.” The woman said to him, “I know that Messiah is coming” (who is called Christ). “When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.” Jesus said to her, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.”

What was she even doing there, this woman of Samaria?  Here she was walking the streets alone, coming to the well in the heat of the day hoping that she wouldn't run into any of the regulars.  She was tired of being taunted, tired of having to try so hard to ignore the cutting remarks and the cold stares.  And so she comes to draw water hoping against hope that no one would be there, to draw water from this old well steeped in history.  She was surprised when this man appeared.  He was a Jew.  What was he doing here in her city?  She put her head down, hoping that he would just pass by and be on his way.  She didn't want any trouble.

The less than civil relationship between the Jews and the Samaritans dated back at least 1,000 years before the birth of Christ.  Both believed in God.  Both had a monotheistic understanding of the one true God, the YHWH of their shared tradition of belief.  But where the temple of YHWH for the Jews existed on Mount Zion in Jerusalem, the Samaritans instead worshipped God on Mount Gerizim near the ancient city of Shechem.  And with that, a new line of religious understanding was formed.  The Samaritans believed that their line of priests was the legitimate one, rather than the line in Jerusalem and they accepted only the Law of Moses as divinely inspired, without recognizing the writings of the prophets or the books of wisdom.   What started as a simple religious division, a different understanding of how God relates to us and we relate to God, eventually grew into a cultural and political conflict that would not go away.  The tension escalated and the hatred for the other was handed down for centuries from parent to child over and over again.

But this is not what Jesus saw in the woman.  He asked her for a drink and began a relationship that cut through 1,000 years of prejudice and hatred and outsiders.  Jesus saw her not as a Samaritan and not even as a lowly woman but as a fellow human, a sister, a child of God.  And somewhere in the conversation, the woman saw who Jesus was too.  He was no longer a Jew; she was no longer a Samaritan.  He was no longer the insider looking out; she was no longer the outsider looking in.  They were instead part of a shared humanity with a shared vision of what the world looked like.  The woman's new life begins when she recognizes Jesus' identity.

Now I don't think that Jesus had some grand evangelism plan.  He was not trying to add numbers to his membership.  If you read the whole lectionary passage (I cheated and shortened it a bit!), the woman does not convert to Christianity (which wasn't really invented yet!).  She doesn't even convert to Judaism.  She is still a Samaritan.  In fact, it says that she drew other Samaritans into who Jesus was.  The point is that Jesus was not trying to build a flock of followers; he was trying to show people how to see that which illumined the Way to God.  The fact that they saw it was enough.  Perhaps the woman and her friends left after this and went to Mt. Gerizim to pray.  Thanks be to God!  Making disciples of Jesus Christ is not about increasing our church's membersip.  It is not about forming people to look just like us or expecting them to change so that they can join our partying and praying clan.  Jesus didn't expect the woman to change.  In fact, he didn't even expect her to join him.  He just showed her what God's love poured out into the world really looked like.  And from the outside looking in, she saw him.  And then she went to tell others.  Isn't that what it's about?  Maybe our problem is that we're on the inside looking out.  Jesus is here, come to give each of us life.  Maybe when we've finished counting the offering and figuring out how many people were here today, we'll finally look and see the One who offers us life, the One who brings all of the world into God.

So in this season of wandering and wondering, just learn how to see.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

First Rest

Quarter Rest

If you read music, you know that it is seldom composed of a never-ending stream of notes.  There are rests, spaces between.  The spaces are not places to stop.  They are places to rest, to breathe, to soak in and soak up what has happened, and to prepare oneself for the rest of the song.  The point is that they are part of the music.  Journeys are no different.  We need rest.  We need breathing room. We need to cease journeying and look back at where we've been.  That is part of the journey.

This journey that we call the Season of Lent has become more and more important to me over the past few years.  I have learned that I need to intentionally do something during or give up something.  I need to change what is usual and routine about my life.  I need to insert a rest and just take a breath.  Some of us give something up and some of us add something on.  I don't think it matters which and I don't think it matters what.  We just need to do something different.  I think that each of us has to do what is best for our life and our own way of living.  Maybe a good rule to use when figuring that out is to lose something that ensnares or contains you, that keeps you safe and comfortable and dependent, or gain something that gives you freedom, that pushes your boundaries and gives you life.  What is it that contains you?  What is it that gives you freedom?

This year I've chosen to write each day on this blog as my Lenten discipline.  About one-third of this season is behind us, so it is time for our "first rest".  It is time to look back at our journey.  I love to write.  It truly does give me freedom; it truly does give me life.  This time of intentional, sometimes "ritualistic" writing (as in when I don't have time--I'm sure you can recognize those!) has given me a new perspective.  It has made me look at things differently.  Ordinary things like missing exits and seeing funny little handmade signs on the backs of pianos have become new journeys through life.  Extraordinary occurrences like Supermoons have become glimpses of the unknown, glimpses of what God has in store.  And those difficult things that are going on in our world--tsunamis and bombings and wars--have somehow been made anew into life-giving phenomena.  This journey is somewhat planned and, yet, part of the plan is to be open to the way the Spirit moves.  That's what it's all about!  (But I do wish that the Spirit would not inspire Maynard quite so much.  I'm running out of Bibles!)

So, on this Lenten journey, take your first rest.  Look around.  What is it that contains you?  What is it that gives you freedom?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

LENT 3A: Perfect Peace

LECTIONARY TEXT:  Romans 5: 1-11
Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.  For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us. Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life. But more than that, we even boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.

Thomas Merton said that "the Christian must not only accept suffering; the Christian must make it holy."  That is very strange to us.  What exactly is holy suffering?  Suffering is bad; suffering is unbecoming; suffering is something that we all try to avoid.  So, how then, can we accept this claim that suffering produces hope?  Keep in mind that the early believers to whom Paul wrote were used to a Roman understanding of peace.  Augustus Caesar had established the Pax Romana, which sought to move in on the entire world.  It was an understanding of peace that would come from Roman prosperity and Roman power.  (I suppose they thought that peace would come if everyone else would just shut up and live the way they do!)  So, Paul is taking the "motto of the day" and turning it inside out.  This peace places its hope in glory; it is part of that larger hope of life in Christ.

Today's news, for me, does not echo chords of peace--a bombing at a Jerusalem bus stop, the military action over Libya, and rumblings of discords from other countries in the area.  And so our discussions about peace become discussions about power.  We seem to be arguing more over who is going to be in charge of the military operations than talking about peace.  Our vision of peace has a lot to do with who's in charge, with who has the power.  Our idea of power is an end in and of itself, rather than a way to peace.  Maybe we could stand a little reframing from Paul too.  For us, suffering is a failure; within the vision of God, suffering holds hope for newness.  Because in the midst of suffering, just like in the midst of everything else, we find God.  God walks with us through it, loving us and holding us, perhaps even revealing a way out of it, if we would only listen, and gives us a glimpse of what is to come.  The suffering of the world reveals the heart of God, reveals the holiness that is, if we will only look.

Truthfully, I don't know what perfect peace looks like.  Chances are, I, like all of you, would be limited by a peace that makes my life easier and a lot less scary.  That's not what it is, comfortable and lovely as that may sound.  Perfect peace is not lack of suffering; it is oneness with God.  And oneness with God enables us to see holiness in everything, to see beauty where there is none, and to see light even in the darkness.  In this season of Lent, we once again walk toward the Cross, with the drums of discord, still this moment far in the distance, growing louder with each step.  This season lasts for forty days.  But those forty days do not include the Sundays of Lent.  Known as "little Easters", they are opportunities to glimpse and celebrate the Resurrection even in the midst of darkness.  They are reminders that even in this season of Christ's Passion and Death, their is always a light on the horizon.  Resurrection always comes.  But it's not a fix; it's not a reward for the most powerful; it's what happens when God's love is poured into our hearts.

So, in this Lenten season, definitely pray for peace but, in the meantime, walk toward hope.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli    

Meanderings

We spend a lot of this Lenten season talking about roads, journeys, wandering, pathways, and "getting back on track".  Do you sense that there is a theme?  The truth is, life is full of roads, whether it's a 40-year long road through a desert wilderness, a leisurely afternoon drive through the Texas wildflowers, or a quick drive to the grocery store.  I just completed a three-day meeting (that was close enough for me to stay at my house) and in the six times that I was in the car, I actually took six different routes.  One included a side errand to Target, one took me out of my way enough to drop Maynard off at Yuppie Dog (yes, "Yuppie Dog"--I supposed I've become completey urbanized!), one involved lunch at a Chinese restaurant, two involved "alternate" routes than that nice woman on my GPS told me to go, and two were because I was talking to my friend who was with me and missed the exit. (As a matter of fact, yes, that does happen to me often!)  But the point is, life is full of roads and there are probably more moments than not that present us with the choice of whether to take the one that will get us there the fastest, the one that will provide the most scenic route, the one that will avoid the traffic, the one with which we're most familiar, the one that will get us back on track, or the "one less traveled by".

I don't really think that God lays down some road at the beginning of our existence and then expects us to stay walking straightly down the center.  In other words, I don't necessarily think that veering from the road in front of us is wrong.  Truthfully, if anyone tries to tell you that they have stayed on one straight road or have walked it with one focus or one thought their whole life, I would propose that they are probably standing not far from where they began.  The Scripture passsages that involve roads seem endless (no pun intended)--wilderness roads, roads to Jerusalem, roads to Emmaus, roads to Bethlehem, roads through Galilee, the road to the Cross, and the roads home.  Perhaps all those roads are not necessarily there to show us the right one to walk; perhaps instead they are there to show us that no matter what path we're one, we'll eventually end up returning home.

And upon returning, we will perhaps be a little weary, maybe even worse for the wear.  But roads tend to make us wiser, certainly with a new perspective of home and of those we've met along the way.  And often, when I've gotten completely off the path that is best for me, God has gently nudged me back, dusting me off and setting me on my way.  But more often, and, I think even more profound in my life, are those times when God, with infinite grace and mercy, somehow brings the meandering path to me. (Oh, good grief, I missed the exit again...!)

So, on this Lenten road, travel with an awareness of all the choices you have and the way God brings a road through them all.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both
and be one traveler, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could
to where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair, and having perhaps the better claim,
because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there
had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay in leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!  Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh!  Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
("The Road Not Taken", Robert Frost, 1920)



Grace and Peace,

Shelli       

LENT 3A: Thirst-Quenching

Lectionary Text:  Exodus 17: 1-7
From the wilderness of Sin the whole congregation of the Israelites journeyed by stages, as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. The people quarreled with Moses, and said, “Give us water to drink.” Moses said to them, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” So Moses cried out to the Lord, “What shall I do with this people? They are almost ready to stone me.” The Lord said to Moses, “Go on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with you; take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.” Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel. He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the Lord, saying, “Is the Lord among us or not?”

The wilderness journey has begun.  It all sounded so simple:  Just lead them across the wilderness to the Promised Land.  But things are not going well.  There are rumblings of discontent.  The people are questioning the vision and direction of their leader.  And, to top everything off, they are thirsty.  Aaaaggghhh!  QUIT COMPLAINING!  (You know that's what Moses wanted to say!)  But he didn't.  He listened.  And then, the text says, he cried out to the Lord.  The truth was, they were thirsty.  People get downright beligerant when they are hungry or thirsty.  And the waters came--thirst-quenching waters.

You know, sometimes we hear responses that we don't want to hear.  And all of us know that it would have been a whole lot easier for Moses to just go on by himself (and a whole lot quieter!).  Today, I've sat through several interviews by our conference's Board of Ministry.  They are interviews for ordination candidates at which the board ascertains whether or not the candidate is doing effective ministry.  What exactly is effectiveness?  Like I said, sometimes it would be a whole lot easier to just go off by yourself, to just pray that the problems or the problem people go away.  But that's not the way this faith journey works.  Sometimes the faith journey includes quarreling and testing.  Sometimes it includes a whole lot of complaining.  But always, always it includes more grace than any of us can handle.  And the waters came--thirst-quenching waters.

In one of the interview rooms, I saw a hand-printed sign (as in off of someone's computer--no one knows what "handwritten" is anymore, I suppose!).  It was actually for a children's choir, but I think it works beyond that.  The sign said "Listen louder than you sing."  That's what Moses did.  That's what this journey is.  It's about realizing that you're part of a bigger picture, that you cannot just go off by yourself and leave everyone behind.  It's about letting God lead you.  It's about listening louder than you sing (or complain or quarrel or anything else).  It's about knowing that the waters will come--thirst-quenching waters.

So on this Lenten journey, listen louder than you sing!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Lenten Discipline: Picking and Choosing

I remember when I got my first Bible.  I was determined to start at Genesis 1:1 and read the whole thing through.  I was sure that was what I was supposed to do.  After all, that's the way you read a book, right?  Well, I have to confess that that never happened.  In fact, it's now more than forty years later and it STILL hasn't happened.  I've taught Bible studies and got an M.Div. from seminary and it STILL didn't happen.  In fact, I've never sat down and read the whole Bible at all.  (Shhh!)  (It's sort of like the way you accidentally hit the wrong button and publish a blog before you're ready, right?  So, for those who only got half an email, just call it a spiritual teaser.  I know you couldn't wait for me to finish my thought and write the whole thing through!)

Maynard, the Bible Eater

One day a couple of months ago, I came out into the living room and was greeted with Maynard (my dog) eating a Bible.  Yes, he ate a Bible!  I'm not sure what to think about that.  When I told people what had happened, they just looked at me in amazement.  He ATE a Bible?  The question was always the same: Did he eat the whole thing?  No, I responded, he's just like the rest of us--just picking and choosing what he wants to digest.  Actually, I'm not so sure that's NOT the way that we're supposed to read the Scriptures.  After all, it's not meant to be a historical narrative.  We don't plow through it trying to memorize each and every detail.  (Note:  This is not going to be on the test!) 

Spiritual reading is more about entering the text than it is memorizing it (or, for that matter, even fully understanding it!  Remember Nicodemus?).  And the place through which we enter is different for each one of us and is different from day to day or hour to hour for each of us.  We are reading to be formed and transformed.  We must enter in the place where God reveals Godself to us through the Scriptures.  And I suppose that involves a bit of picking and choosing.  Read the words and then let God's Spirit wash over you.  Do not worry so much about becoming a Biblical scholar.  (After all, remember that this is not the whole story!)  Just read so that your heart, rather than your head, becomes full.

Plumbing the Depths

In her book, Soul Feast, Marjorie Thompson says that "scripture has been compared to a lake whose depths have never been fully plumbed.  On the surface it looks like any other lake; that is, we see human words like those in other books.  But when we jump into the lake and begin to swim downward, we may be unable to find the bottom.  It is as if those human words become transparent to some mysterious and infinite depth we can never fully grasp...God has chosen to be bound to the words of Scripture; in and through them, the Holy One comes near...Scripture is both God's Word and human words.  It is part of God'schosen self-revelation, simultaneously familiar and strange...It is not that the words magically or mechanically contain God's presence, but that as we allow the same Spirit through which the Scriptures were written to inform our listening, the presence of God in and beyond those words becomes alive for us once more." (In Soul Feast: An Invitation to the Christian Spiritual Life, Marjorie Thompson, p. 19-20)

So pick and choose the words where you can this day enter the Word.  Dive in and let God's Presence come alive for you.  This is your story.  It is not complete.  Which chapter is yours to add?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Supermoon

Today's moon is being called a Supermoon, an astronomical phenomena when the moon will be closer to the earth (nearly 17,000 miles closer than average) than it will be for another twenty years.  The scientific term for this occurrence is perigee-sygygy.  Perigee is Greek word essentially meaning orbit and sygygy (also with some Greek roots) implies unity that comes through alignment. 

"Unity that comes through alignment"--what a great image for this Lenten season, a season of realigning one's priorities, one's thoughts, indeed one's very life with God.  But most people probably have in their minds right now that God is the metaphorical moon moving closer to us as we work toward completion of this realignment process, as if what we are doing is somehow successfully pulling a wandering God back toward us.  No, that's not it.  We are the ones that tend to wander, that tend to sometimes move so far away that it is difficult to see God.  God is not static or unmoving but God is not running away.  God is inviting us to move as God moves, a sort of orbital dance, if you will.  Maybe, then, Lent is about our becoming a Supermoon, moving closer than we ever have, close enough to be part of that sygygy, part of the dance, part of that unity that comes through alignment.

So in this Lenten season, be a Supermoon!

LENT 2A: Anothen

LECTIONARY PASSAGE:  John 3: 1-17
Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ 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.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” Jesus answered him, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things? “Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, 15that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

At church, part of what I do is handle our endowment program.  And once each month, I sit down to reconcile our operating account on Quickbooks.  When you print the reconciliation, the screen has what I think is the most hilarious directive.  You have the option of clicking a box to print it out in color.  But next to the box, it says "Print the document in color (only for color printers)".  Well, duh!  It's just funny.  I thought about that when I started thinking about this term "born again".  I am tired of hearing what has become a never-ending cast of characters in the public media describing someone (or even themself!) as a "Born Again Christian".  When did that become a proper name?  What exactly is the difference between a "Born Again Christian" and a "Christian".  I'm confused.  It's like reading the 16th verse of this passage and interpreting it "Every one who believes has eternal life. (only for those who are born again)."  It's just funny!

I don't think that Jesus ever meant these words to shut out anyone.  After all, in light of the rest of what we know about him and his life here on earth, would that really make sense?  The Greek word used here is anothen.  It can mean "born from above", "born anew", or "born again".  So take your pick.  It can be translated as a time one is born (again) and a place one is born (above) and what it all looks like (anew).  Well, no wonder Nicodemus was confused!  He focuses on one meaning (born again) and protests that it is impossible.  Well, of course it is!  But Jesus is telling him that if he will just stop trying pick it apart, he would see it.  He would see the Kingdom of God.  The passage tells us that no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above...the wind blows 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.  Jesus wasn't belittling Nicodemus or shutting him out.  Jesus was telling him that he was just like everyone else--that what he was seeing and what he was hearing did not make sense through the lenses and the ears of this world.  It's like he was saying,"Nicodemus, my son, relax and come with me.  I want to show you what comes next.  I want to show you life."  Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.  So, Jesus came to save the whole world?  Hmmm!

I do not call myself a "Born Again Christian".  When I was little and well-meaning people would ask the question, "when were you born again?", I didn't know.  I was always a little afraid that I had missed it.  What a horrible thing to do to a child!  I have decided that the term is redundant.  I am a Christian.  I follow the Way of Jesus Christ, the Way that leads me closer and closer to a oneness with God, a return to the Source from whence I came.  According to this passage, that is the Way to see and know the Kingdom of God.  "Born again" is more to me than a slogan on a T-shirt or fodder for a talk show.  It is a gift, an indescribeable, albeit hard to understand, gift.  It is life.  Jesus just showed us where to look.       


So on this Lenten journey, don't worry about it making sense.  Just follow the Way of Christ, the way that leads to new life.
 
Grace and Peace,
 
Shelli

Getting to a Thin Place



The Celtic Spiral

Happy St. Patrick's Day!  I do not know of any true Irish blood in my family but my hodge-podge geneaology includes enough of the British Isles to at leaast come close.  So I have donned my green and I'm set for the day!
St. Patrick was said to have been born Maewyn Succat (Lat. Magonus Succetus) in Roman Britain (Scotland) around the year 387.  As the story goes, when he was sixteen, he was captured by Irish raiders and taken as a slave to Ireland, where he lived for six years before escaping and returning to his family.  He wrote that his faith grew in captivity and he prayed daily. The story is told that one day Patrick heard a voice saying “your ship is ready” and took it to mean that it was time to return home.  Fleeing his master, he traveled to a port two hundred miles away, found a ship, and sailed home.  He entered the church and later returned to Ireland as a missionary.  By the eighth century, he had become the patron saint of Ireland.

In this season of Lent, we are called to do our own returning.  Part of Lent is about returning to your source, to that from whence you came.  It is our season of returning to God, letting go of all the baggage that we've stacked up along the way, and beginning again.  Lent is about relearning to travel light.  Celtic spirituality is based primarily on pilgrimage.  Life, in this understanding, is about growing and moving and not "pitching our tent" in one place too long.  It is about connecting with all of Creation.  It is about connecting with God.  It is about recognizing the transcendent, those places where one meets God in his or her life.  In Celtic Spirituality, they are called "thin places", those places where the spiritual spills into the material, where time and space are one, those places where we feel so connected to God, to our source, that the eternal is there for the taking.  It is those places that are in this life and in this world where one has the sense that one hears the harps eternal just over the not-too-distant hill.  It carries an understanding that all in life is sacred, that all in life is of God; we just have to return with new eyes and new ears and a new heart to see it.  Lent calls us to find our own thin places.  They are not the places where God exists but rather the places where we can finally sense the Presence of the One who is everywhere.

Legend credits St. Patrick for banishing all of the snakes from Ireland.  It is interesting to note, though, that evidence suggests that post-glacial Ireland never really had any snakes.  Perhaps it was an account of Patrick's influence in the doing away with the belief in serpents that were so common in Druid belief.  Or perhaps it is a reminder to us what a life of true faith, a life of singular devotion to God, can mean.  When one returns to his or her source, when one finds that place where one knows God and senses the God who is all things and everywhere, all those things that haunt us, all those things that perch around corners and strike unexpectedly, all those things in life that we try to avoid, try not to step on, finally do not matter.  It is said that Patrick feared nothing, not even death, so complete was his trust in God.

So, in this Lenten journey, may you find your thin place.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ within me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ at my right, Christ at my left,...
Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks to me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
I bind to myself today the strong virtue of an invocation of the Trinity,
I believe the Trinity in the Unity,
The Creator of the Universe.  
(From The Prayer of St. Patrick's Breastplate, supposedly composed by him in preparation for victory over Paganism.)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

LENT 2A: Turning Right

LECTIONARY PASSAGE:  Romans 4: 1-5, 13-17
What then are we to say was gained by Abraham, our ancestor according to the flesh? For if Abraham was justified by works, he has something to boast about, but not before God. For what does the scripture say? “Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness.” Now to one who works, wages are not reckoned as a gift but as something due. But to one who without works trusts him who justifies the ungodly, such faith is reckoned as righteousness.

For the promise that he would inherit the world did not come to Abraham or to his descendants through the law but through the righteousness of faith. If it is the adherents of the law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise is void. For the law brings wrath; but where there is no law, neither is there violation. For this reason it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his descendants, not only to the adherents of the law but also to those who share the faith of Abraham (for he is the father of all of us, as it is written, “I have made you the father of many nations”) —in the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.

Driving in Houston is almost always a challenge, even for those savvy ones of us who grew up in the area and do it all the time.  There is something that you do not expect--a closed freeway (I actually think they do that every week-end whether they need to or not), a new pothole, or simply a major freeway or intersection that is completely stopped for no apparent reason.  In a city in which you can literally drive for two hours on a "good" traffic day and never actually leave the city, there is lots of room for things that get in your way.  One day not too long ago, I was driving on a road that I drive often.  I got to an intersection under the Southwest Freeway with which I was pretty familiar.  There is a sign there with an arrow on it that implies a right turn only onto the feeder from that lane.  But apparently one of the bolts had come out of the top of the sign and the sign had slid farther down the pole and upside down.  If I took the sign literally, it would have told me to turn the car around, go back from where I came, and turn the opposite direction.  No, that's not right!
 
Even with signs all around us, we know the rules.  We know what it normal.  We know the way.  And in that respect, we are no different from those in the Roman Empire to which Paul was writing this passage that is part of our lectionary readings for this week.  They all knew that if they followed the rules and did what was expected, everything would be fine.  They would get what they deserved.  They would end up where they needed to be.  They would receive their reward.  But now Paul was telling them that these things that they thought would make them "right" with God didn't really matter at all.  That was not the way it worked.  It had to be hard for them to hear.  According to Paul (and possibly a surprise to many of these first century hearers and a few of us!), God is not waiting around for us to do the "right thing" so that we can be in "right relationship" with God.  God blesses all of us, all of humanity, as children of God.
 
Paul claims that the right relationship is not something that Abraham had earned because he had done the right thing.  It was freely offered by God.  Abraham's belief did not create the "right relationship"; it was because of it.  Paul is almost contending that our belief is a fruit, rather than a reason, for our right relationship with God.  The right relationship is a free and undeserved gift.  (Hey, that sounds like grace to me!)  The relationship is already there.  We just have to live into it.  We don't have to create it; we just have to turn toward it.  That's what this season of Lent is about--not cleaning up your act, but turning toward God.
 
So, TURN RIGHT!
 
Grace and Peace,
 
Shelli

Receiving and Giving

During both of the "high" seasons of the church year, we talk a lot about change and growth.  Both of them point toward a "high point" and tell us that we have to prepare, that we have to get ready.  When you think about it, Advent points us toward a birth and Lent points us toward a re-birth.  During Advent, we are told over and over again that we have to open our lives and open our heart so that we can receive the Christ-child into our heart, so that we will know what it means for Jesus Christ to enter our life.  In essence, we have to be virgin, pure, open to receive and birth Christ in our own life.  Tis the season of receiving!

During this season of Lent, though, things change.  It is not just about receiving Christ or believing that Christ was resurrected or viewing Christ as the Messiah, or the Savior, or God Incarnate.  We have to do more than just believe the story.  We have to do more than just believe in Jesus Christ.  The only way to prepare oneself to walk this way of the Cross is through total and complete surrender of everything one thinks and everything one is.  We have to begin to become one with the Risen Christ.  We have to enter the Way of Christ. We have to give our lives and our hearts and everything we know over to God.  We become one with God.  You see, the point, I think, is that Jesus did not merely die on the cross to wipe my sin away or insure me everlasting life.  I think it was a bigger deal than that.  The cross is the point of recreation.  God took something so horrific, so unimagineable, so inhumane, and turned it into life.  All of Creation, all that we know, all that we thought changed at that moment.  The earth shook and gasped because nothing would ever be the same again.  The intention was not to just clean each of us and set us back on the same path.  We really are supposed to become something new.  And without death (as in "dying to self"), without handing over one's life, without letting go of all those things to which you hold so tightly that really have meaning only to you, without giving all that you have and all that you are, God cannot make something new.  God cannot create life.  Tis the season of giving!

There are very few people who realize what God would make of them if they abandoned themselves into [God's] hands and let themselves be formed by grace.  (St. Ignatius of Loyola, 16th century)

So, follow the one who came that you might have life!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

LENT 2A: Parshas Lech Lecha

LECTIONARY PASSAGE:  Genesis 12: 1-4a
Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” So Abram went, as the Lord had told him; and Lot went with him.

It means "to be a blessing", parshas lech lecha.  This passage begins what is often called the Patriarchal history of Genesis. All of a sudden the camera zooms into a single family of nomads in a small town in Mesopotamia and, finally, to a single individual.  This is where the history of Israel begins.  The truth is, Abram never saw his future.  And yet his response shaped it.  Abram is chosen to be the one through whom God’s blessing is showered upon the whole world. But in order for this to happen, Abram is told to leave what he knows, to in effect sever ties and go to a new place. (We at this point immediately jump to what that would mean for us--to leave our home, our family, our life.  What, we imagine, a great act of faith!) But remember that Abram’s family was nomadic. They probably didn’t really have a concept of home anyway. And there really wasn’t a family, to speak of—Abram had probably long ago outlived his parents and he had no children. So what was he leaving? Maybe God was calling him away from hopelessness and loneliness and finally showing him purpose, showing him home.


And the Lord promises that Abram will not be alone. And, more than that, God promises blessing. No longer is this just one person or one family; it is the conduit to God showering blessing throughout the world.
Abram is called to be a blessing, the Hebrew Parshas Lech Lecha. It becomes an integral part of the Genesis story and is used eighty-eight times in the book. A blessing is a gift. It involves every sphere of existence. It is more than what we 21st century hearers have allowed it to be. It is not payment for a life well-lived. “Being blessed” is being recreated. (For Abram, this meant moving from a life of nomadic purposelessness to being the “father of a great nation” and, thousands of years later, the patriarch of three world religions.) It takes time. I think to be a blessing means that one enters the story. God calls, God promises, and God walks with us. That is how God is revealed. But the blessing doesn’t come and the blessing doesn’t continue unless one enters the story. God calls, God promises, and God blesses.

Blessing is one of the ways that God makes the presence of God known here and now.  (Joan Chittister)

So, go and be a blessing!
 
Grace and Peace,
 
Shelli

Lenten Discipline: Seeking and Tuning

Today we lost an hour to the dreaded Daylight Savings Time adjustment.  I hate this day.  What is that about?  The claim is that we get "more daylight".  Really? Have these people not had math or astronomy?  It is very bizarre.  So, I woke up at 5:00 (which was really, as my body clock pointed out to me, 4:00).  And while I went around and did all of my Sunday morning things for what was already an early day, Maynard (the dog) slept in.  He knew better and just didn't want to be bothered with anything that might get in the way of his schedule.  Maynard is a rescue lab that I got in August and as this was our first "spring forward" day together, I think it confirmed to him that I really am nuts. 

I drove to the church at the time that I was usually privileged to view the sunrise on Sunday mornings.  There was no sunrise but rather a sky that held varying degrees of light as the sunrise began to stretch and get ready for the day, not really wanting to be bothered with anything that might get in the way of its schedule.  It really was rather beautiful, though (sans light, of course).  I stopped at the same red light at the same intersection that I do twice each year. It seems that I always change my car clock at the same place.  And I always have to once again figure out how to do it.  You punch "Clock" and then the radio screen lights up with the directions:  "H-Seek...M-Tune".  (It's telling you to use the "seek" and "tune" buttons to recalibrate your time and adjust its setting so that it makes more sense.)

The meaning was not lost on me even in my somewhat blurry state.  What a great metaphor for this Lenten season--seeking and tuning.  Usually when we see the word "seek", our finely-trained minds go immediately to "finding".  But on this spiritual path, that doesn't work as well.  This is not a path of seeking and finding God.  God is not lost.  God is not hiding out waiting for some grand hide and seek game to end.  God is right here waiting for us, waiting for us to hear, waiting for us to listen.  And so this time of Lent is a time of our seeking and tuning, a time of recalibrating our lives so that we will be in line with the time of God, a time of adjusting our setting, so to speak, so that it will make more sense.  God is never out of the bounds of our life; sometimes we just have to stop and tune ourselves to the music that was there all along.  And once a year, the church year gives us a chance to do just that.  My memory is a little rusty.  I usually have to figure out how to do it all over again.  But God is patiently waiting for me to spiritually tune myself.  And if I don't get it completely right, God, in infinite grace and mercy, always moves a little closer to me anyway.

So in this Season of Lent, tune yourself to the place where you best connect with God!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

LENT 1A: Ego-Control

LECTIONARY PASSAGE:  Matthew 4: 1-11
Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished. The tempter came and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” But he answered, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” Jesus said to him, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’” Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

The Judean Wilderness, Israel
February, 2010

Well, here we are back at the temptation story.  I suppose that means it's the first Sunday in Lent.  It doesn't even matter what lectionary year you're in. All three synoptic Gospels have it in some form. So it just seems to find us each and every year on this Sunday.  It is the day that never budges on our spiritual itinerary, as if  it is a place through which we have to pass to get to anywhere else.  So, is the point that you have to travail the wilderness or that you have to survive the temptation?  I think maybe it's both those things, but the main thing is that wherever we are and whatever we are doing, now is the time to get our egos under control.  This Lenten journey is not for the faint of heart.  It is serious business.  We have to get our own selves out of the way before we can continue.  Maybe that's why we read this story every single year on the first Sunday in  Lent.  It's our annual spring cleaning of all that stuff that is piled up in our way so that the path to Jerusalem will be visible.

Many people struggle a bit with this story.  After all, he was Jesus--as in the Christ--as in God Incarnate--as in the Savior of the World.  Shouldn't he have been above all that?  But, remember, Jesus was human, fully human.  And even the ones in our midst who do humanness the best have things that get in the way of our relationship with God from time time.  If Jesus had been "above it all", so to speak, what, really would have been the point at all?  Jesus was not a superhero.  Jesus was showing us the way to God.  And along the way, Jesus was enough of a realist and loved us enough to be honest about what all of us would encounter on this journey.  Jesus' style was not really to show us all the stuff that we were messing up; rather, he showed us how to name and own what comes along so that we would have the strength and the grace and the faith not to walk away but to walk through it, to leave it behind as we continue on.  I think that's a whole lot better than a superhero that just flies above the fray and scoops us out of harm's way at the last minute.

Henri Nouwen says that the three temptations depicted are what we all encounter--the desire to be relevant, spectacular, and powerful.  Who doesn't want to be relevant, to be liked, to be affirmed, to realize that you have made an impact?  The ironic thing is that most of us spiritual ones live our whole lives like that.  We are told that we are supposed to bear fruit.  And yet how many of us forget who planted it in the first place?  And, at least once in a while, it would feel good to be spectacular.  And the third?  Well, good grief, our whole society is about power.  If we are not one of the powerful, then we are one of the powerless, right?  In a society with a caste system such as ours (yes, I said caste system), there has to be SOMEBODY on the top!  But, here's the crux...to those who are relevant, spectacular, and powerful, Jerusalem looks like a failure, a dark blotch on an otherwise pristine story.  But to those who have left their egos at this first week, Jerusalem looks like life. 

So get your egos in check and prepare for the journey!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli