faith in community

The Privilege of Being a Pastor

2012-01-31T09:21:00.001-06:00

I know one of the big perks of being a pastor is getting to speak. I have the privilege of speaking God's word on Sunday, and in many small interactions throughout the week. I have the privilege of speaking and reminding people of God's mercy. I get to open up the Scriptures and I have an opportunity to share with people what I find. I don't take that privilege lightly.

But you know what? Here's a secret: the real privilege of being a pastor is listening.

I get to hear stories. I hear stories about people's life with God. Sometimes they know the story is about their life with God. Sometimes they don't. I hear stories about people who came out on the other side of terrible tragedy, and are still here. I hear stories about parents and grandparents and children and how they influence faith. (One woman told me about her great-aunt, who lived with them, and used to talk to God all day while she was vaccuuming.)

I also get to hear questions. I get to hear questions from children, and from teenagers, and from adults. "What does that Scripture verse mean?" "What does it have to do with us?" "Why did that boy have to suffer?" "Why do we pray?" Sometimes I can answer the question, sometimes I have to say "I don't know."

I get to hear singing. I love to hear us singing together in worship, whether that music is an old hymn accompanied by organ, a new song accompanied by piano, or a song unadorned by any instrument. I remember one Saturday night, at our small chapel service, that the substitute organist stopped short of the final verse of "Lift High the Cross." The congregation just kept singing. We sounded great.

I get to hear prayers. I get to hear people murmur a name during the petitions on Sunday, I get to hear children as they are learning to pray, I get to hear confirmation students as they pray for their friends, I get to hear people in nursing homes and in hospitals and in coffee houses share their concerns and offer a prayer.

It is a privilege to listen, as much as it is a privilege to speak. But now that I come to think of it, it's not just a privlege for pastors. It's a privilege for all of us who are called to be witnesses to God's mercy and grace in our lives. It's a privilege for us to listen to God's word, to listen for what God is saying to us. And it's a privilege to listen to one another, and to our neighbors.

It's possible that Listening could be the fundamental outreach strategy, for individuals, and for congregations. "Listening Evangelism." What would it look like? As we share the mercy of God in Christ Jesus with our neighbors, the first task, and the first privilege is to listen.

The Weak in Faith

2012-01-25T17:26:00.000-06:00

I had this experience a few years ago, so I don't remember exactly how it happened.

It was after a funeral. I was sitting with a couple who were visiting our congregation, but it turned out they had connections with my husband's church, so we began to chat. And (here's where I get fuzzy) I don't know how this came up or what I said exactly, but I must have said something about "the historical view" or "the critical view" of the Bible, and they both got this stricken, deer-in-the-headlights look, a look that told me that they were afraid, very afraid of what I might be implying with just a few words. So I remember that I backpedaled, said something innocuous until they looked a little more relaxed, as if it was safe to believe again.

I had just gotten the feeling that they were, without words, telling me "If you go any farther along this line, you will cause us to lose our faith." I don't know if this is true, but those were the vibes that I got.

The Bible is a dangerous book. In many ways.

I just read something a fellow pastor wrote about those "Read the Bible in one Year" or "Read the Bible in 90 Days" programs. She said she was not sure she wanted to do that again. Last time she did, she lost a couple of families. Every time they turned around, they were reading about wars.

I know there are people sitting in the pews every Sunday, reading along with the Bible stories we read, and in their hearts they are saying, "Give us permission to question, Pastor. We want to believe, and we want to question too. Because, you know, some of this is hard to believe. And if we think we have to swallow it whole, we might just lose our faith."

This week, we're reading a section of Paul's letter to the Corinthians. It's about a certain practice alien to us but intensely relevant to the Corinthian church: eating meat which had been sacrificed to idols. Some people think it's okay to eat, and some people have an attack of conscience when they see other people eating. Paul recommends abstaining from eating if it will help those who are "weak in faith".

All of this might make your eyes glaze over. It's just not something that we care much about these days. As far as I know, none of the meat at the supermarket has been sacrificed to idols. So, we're okay.

But I can't help thinking about Paul's phrase, "the weak in faith." Who are the weak in faith? I mean, these days. Because the idea is not to do something that will cause them to lose their faith.

And these days, when I think about what will cause people to lose their faith, one of the first things that comes to mind is how we read the Bible. Do we refrain from bringing up questions in and about the Bible because it might cause some among us to stumble? Or is it possible that not bringing up questions is a bigger offense?

I will tell you that I lean the second way. Because I believe that the Bible is God's Word, in all of its puzzling complexity, with all of its stories, strange or comforting.

Still, it gives me pause.

Who are the weak in faith?

Children of the Bible

2012-01-13T11:44:00.001-06:00

When I was 9 or 10 years old, my grandma Gummeson gave me a book called "Children of the Bible." I didn't have a lot of books that weren't from the library, so this one was pretty fascinating to me.

It featured art pictures of children from the Bible (who knew there were children in the Bible?) and the stories about their lives. The book featured pictures of all of the children you would expect: Isaac, the baby Moses, David (well before he was a king), Jesus at 12, the little boy with the loaves and fishes. As well, there were a few children whose stories surprised me: not just Moses, but his sister Miriam, who saved him. The little maid who served Naaman the general, and told him who could cure his leprosy. Rhoda, the servant girl who met Peter at the door when the angel sprang him out of prison, but was so excited she forgot to let him in! I loved those stories.

Children of the Bible: it was a great secret, and it must mean that God loved the children, not just in a sentimental way, but that God loved children enough to entrust his message to them, even them. I was not just a learner, but I could be a teacher, too. Children were part of the story.

This Sunday we have the story of Samuel. It is one of my favorite Bible stories, which is why I always pause before I decide whether I am going to preach on Samuel's call. Am I just leaning this way because I like this story so much? Or is this the message my congregation really needs to hear? Now that I am an adult, I like this story not just because it's a story about a child receiving God's message, but for so many other reasons. The humor of Samuel hearing God and thinking that it is Eli. The old priest with dim eyes who, nonetheless, perceives the truth. The sadness of the message that Samuel must give to Eli, and his humility and grace in receiving it. The good news of the new thing that God will be doing among the people, beginning with Samuel.

As I told a few people who gathered this morning, we know this is a true story not just because it is in the Bible, but also because it has sad parts and happy parts, and every good and true story has both happy parts and sad parts.

"Speak, Lord, your servant is listening," Samuel finally says. May we learn to say the same.

"Speak Lord, your servants are listening. Tell us a story, a good story, a story with sad parts and happy parts, with tears and with laughter, where we have adventures together, but where there is a happy ending. But most of all, Lord, tell us a story where we have a part, no matter how big we are, or how small, no matter how young or how old, no matter how wise or how foolish."

It's a true story, this story about God and about Jesus and about us: and we know it's true because there are sad parts and there are happy parts, and because we are in it, too.

My Problem

2012-01-07T20:25:00.001-06:00

When I start thinking about it, there are several things I would really like to do:

1. Learn to play the recorder that I bought several years ago in Tucson. It's a really pretty wooden soprano recorder. It is not the most expensive, but not the least expensive either. I can play a C scale, Amazing Grace and the Water is Wide.

2. Learn some Spanish. I am not saying I want to be an expert, reading novels or anything. But I'd love to be able to converse a little in Spanish, understand and speak a little. I did buy some flash cards, but that's about all.

3. Learn to make hand-sewn books. At this point, I'm not interested in making my own paper. but I really really want to learn how to make books. If I ever write anything worthy of publication, I would love learning to print an art book (with some illustrations and perhaps prayers or poetry, maybe).

4. Become better at knitting. Make more complicated sock patterns, particularly lace. By the way, I am still working on the sweater.

5. Get a Doctor of Ministry in Preaching. I do have an idea for a theme (and maybe even a book), but I'm not divulging it publicly yet.

6. Do a lectio divina retreat at the Benedictine Center in St. Paul.

7. Take a writing class at The Loft Literary Center, or do one of the Iowa Summer Writing Workshops.

Right now, I am not doing any of these things.

Christian Bookstores

2012-01-06T21:58:00.000-06:00

So one of my favorite small independent bookstores is going out of business. It's a small-town bookstore, and I thought they had a lovely ambience and a great selection of different genres of books. In the back was a children's book section with a mini log cabin and a display of all of Laura Ingalls Wilder's "Little House" books. (This town is not far from the site of "Little House in the Big Woods.")

Still, the bookstore is in a small town, and small town economies are in tough shape. It's in the historic downtown, where businesses are leaving (there's a thriving new area with several chain stores along the highway).   We all know that the bookstore business is in decline.

So I'm walking down the straight and I notice that there is not just this one bookstore in town. There's also a Christian Bookstore. And it's not going out of business, as far as I can tell.

Now I can't tell you if this bookstore is doing well or not; all I know is that's it's not going out of business. I can also say that even though I call this a "Christian Bookstore", it's probably more appropriate to call it a Christian book, card and gift shop. And of course, it features a modest selection of Bibles (though not the translation I use most), and some devotional books.

Though I suppose it's not fair as I have not been inside, this bookstore does seem familiar to me, as I have been in a number of Christian bookstore in my life, starting at about the time when I was having my flirtation with the evangelical and charismatic movements.  I started out liking them, but soon began fantasizing about opening my own bookstore, because I wanted a more diverse selection of spiritual books, to match the diversity of my own spiritual journey.

So for many years in the back of mind I've had this "impossible dream" about a Christian bookstore, but also I couldn't help noticing that all of the other Christian bookstores I had ever been in were sort of -- um -- alike (except for one, in Minneapolis, called St. Martin's Table. Good food and a wonderful selection of books. Unfortunately, St. Martin's Table closed last year.)

I couldn't help noticing (and still can help noticing) that, for example, the Christian bookstore I most enjoy right now is located in our local Lutheran seminary, where almost none of the people in my congregation would ever go, and the local evangelical (southern Baptist, actually, though they don't tell you) bookstore is about six blocks away from where I live. There are wonderful resources that I want the people in my congregation to know about, but some of them they can't find in any bookstore.   Because the bookstore six blocks away won't carry these wonderful resources (not all of them Lutheran, by the way). I will also say that the fact that my favorite bookstore is located in a seminary might give you the impression that these are, for the most part, books for scholars, and not for lay people, and in that, you would not be totally mistaken.

I'm pretty convinced that I won't be starting that "alternative Christian bookstore", but I would love to figure out a way to get more visibility for resources that are accessible, theologically sound, compelling and well-written. Could churches host little satellite bookstores, or perhaps have suggested resources and links on their websites?

What do you think?

Bookstores, Reading, Community

2012-01-05T21:39:00.003-06:00

I opened up my emails this morning to find bad news I did not expect: another one of my favorite independent bookstores is going out of business. This is one of the bookstores I visit in a local, historic small town; frankly, I think it's one of the things that make the town worth visiting (besides their fine hotel and antique stores).

We have been visiting that town, and so we stopped in this morning, though it made us sad. One woman entering the store said, "Where am I going to buy my books?" I said, "I think on the internet." She said, "Sometimes, you have to go into a bookstore."

Apparently, not enough people agree with her.

I love bookstores (yarn stores, too, but that's possibly another post). I did used to have this dream of opening a small bookstore, though I knew little or nothing about the business angle. (Just to show you that the dream hasn't completely died, I recently thought a store called "A Good Yarn" would be a great idea for a shop that combined books and knitting supplies.)

I do remember, however, a time before bookstores. Our biggest department store had a book department, but the first bookstore I saw (a B. Dalton, I believe) was when I was in high school. I was very intrigued. A whole store of nothing but books. It wasn't a big store, but it was a book store. It was like a library, except you didn't have to bring the books back.

I went to the library as a kid. I did not have a large personal library of children's books. We bought a few books through the mail, but most of the books that I read I did not own. One of my prized possessions was an edition of Little Men, given to me by a friend for a birthday. I didn't really start accumulating books until I was in college.

So on a rational level, I understand that markets come and markets go. When I was small, my dad had his own small business: G&B Radio and TV. He sold and repaired a lot of TVs. He used to win sales contests, and he won prizes. Then, fewer people bought TVs from small shops, and especially in that neighborhood. Now I believe that a small TV Sales and Repair shop is a rare thing.

But there's a part of me that thinks that this is about more than books, and more than markets. It's about community. It's about the value of real places where people gather, say hello, exchange goods, opinions, and actually know that they matter to one another. And those places are not gone, I'm not being alarmist. But somehow I feel that it needs to be said.

In an internet age, brick and mortar sometimes seems like a liability. I mean that in a bottom line sort of way. Amazon can sell more cheaply partly because they don't have brick and mortar stores. But if you are a brick and mortar store, you also are a member of a particular community, and that is a value too.

In the community where I served for four years, there was a small grocery store. Most people did their grocery shopping in the nearest city, thirty-five miles away. But I remember one of my parish members who told me that she made a point of doing some of her shopping at the small store, even though they didn't have everything she needed, and even though the prices were higher. Because, she said, having a grocery store in her community was a value to her.

So in the race to the bottom line, I still think it's a good question to ask: where are the places that remind us that we are members of one another, that our destinies are intertwined, that we all do better when we all do better?

The Gospel In Seven Words

2012-01-03T00:20:00.004-06:00

Because so many others have put it simply, I tried my hand at this:

In Christ, God is joined to us.

(And we are joined to God. Irrevocably. Inexplicably. And God wouldn't have it any other way. We tried everything to stop him.)

A Few Books on My List for 2012

2012-01-02T22:19:00.001-06:00

These are just a few of the books I'm considering for 2012, for various reasons. They may or may not be on your list, and the list is by no means comprehensive.

1. Out Stealing Horses, Per Petterson. This has been on my list for a couple of years; I'm reading it now. It caught my eye when it was listed as one of the 10 best books of the year by the New York Times Book Review.

2. Opening to God, David Benner. I am more and more attracted to lectio divina.

3. Major Pettigrew's Last Stand, Helen Simonson. Our January book club selection. Stay tuned for more intriguing choices.

4. Memoir: a History, Ben Yagoda. I discovered this book when Borders was going out of business and the shelves had thinned out. I'm inordinately interested in the rise of the memoir as a literary genre and hope that reading this will help crystalize some opinions about this. It also intrigues me that one of Ben Yagoda's other books is a biography of Will Rogers. (Perhaps that one should go on my list, too?)

5. Rin Tin Tin, Susan Orlean. I mean, look at that face. How can you not want to know everything about Rin Tin Tin?

6. Accompany Them with Singing, Thomas Long. It seems to me that the Christian funeral is one of the most essential tasks of the church.

7. Simply Christian, N.T. Wright. I like substantial theological books that I can also share with the people in my congregation. I think that much of Wright's work is like this.

8. The Prodigal God, Timothy Keller. Just because I need to read it.

9. Another mystery by Henning Mankell. Not sure which one yet. But, I'll let you know.

10. I will be looking for a book or books of poetry by Palestinian-American poet Naomi Shihab Nye.

11. Also, I want to find at least one laugh-out-loud funny book this year. Because, as Milton Berle once said, "Laughter is an instant vacation."

It is interesting that there are not more novels or memoirs on this list -- yet. As the year progresses, I'm sure that stories will form the backbone of what I read. I just haven't gotten the buzz yet on which stories I need to read. Anyone?

Best Books I Read In 2011

2012-01-01T20:18:00.001-06:00

Humbly offered, here are my offerings of some of the best and/or most intriguing books I read this year:

1. Bossypants, Tina Fey. I really didn't know much about Tiny Fey but her spot-on Sarah Palin impression. This is not a book I would have picked out, but I found it provocative, insightful, and of course, laugh-out-loud funny. Several over her comedy/humor insights work for sermons too.

2. Snowflake Bentley, Jacqueline Briggs Martin. Perhaps it seems like cheating to include this charming little book for children (although it did win a Caldecott prize). However, the true story it relays is about Wilson Bentley, who loved snow and wanted to share the beauty of snowflakes with the world.

3. Tattoos on the Heart, Father Greg Boyle. Stories and anecdotes about Father Boyle's work with gangs in L.A., and the power of God's boundless compasison.

4. Mighty Be Our Power, Leymah Gbowee. Powerful story of the women behind the peace movement in Liberia.

5. A Door Set Open, Peter Steinke. I think, anyway, his best book. Change is difficult, but the best way to effect change is to through mission.

6. Almost Christian, Kenda Creasy Dean. Prof. Dean has done a lot of research with mainline youth and finds that most of them hold to a sort of content-less faith in a a feel-good God, that has very little to do with the faith we say we profess. She also says that it's our fault. I think I agree with her. But, what should we do now?

7. Giving to God, Mark Allan Powell. I also read (and liked) Not Your Parents' Offering Plate. While I'm still not about the practical implications of Powell's book, I will say that, in the end, it is actually more radical than the other one. Especially intrigued by the idea that our gifts to our congregations are actually just our share in an obligation to our community, but not the sum of our giving to God. But how many of us feel that sense of community obligation to our congregation?

8. Faceless Killers, Henning Mankell. I've read a few mysteries this year; I think this was the best one. I'll be looking for more of Mankell in the next year. Sort of noirish and dark, but it's Swedish, so what can you expect?

9. Cutting for Stone, Abraham Verghese. Really epic story that ranges from India to Ethiopia to New York City. Tragic and beautiful.

10. Jesus, My Father, The CIA and Me, Ian Cron. I will say that this book was not what I expected, in some ways. I expected more CIA intrigue, I'll admit. But I read a lot of memoirs (I'll admit) and this one was compelling for all the reasons that I read memoris -- the narrative of coming-to-faith, the sense of the hound of heaven at the heels, the strange and the familiar (some elements of Cron's faith story, especially the scenes from the 70s charismatic movement, were eerily familiar).

11. The Grace of Silence, Michele Norris. Another memoir of sorts, by NPR journalist who grew up in my back yard (south Minneapolis). She researches the stories of her father and her grandmother, finding compellling secrets, unanswered questions, legacies of the civil rights movement, and our inability to talk about race.

What's your Name?

2011-12-28T21:59:00.001-06:00

I remember finding the baby name book that my parents used when they were trying to decide what our names would be. It was, to me, a little like finding the "I Ching" or a pack of Tarot cards, like peering, ever so slightly, into my parents' brains. Why did my parents give me the names that they gave me, my sister and my brother? We aren't named after anybody else in our families. There are no other Dianes, Janets, or Davids in my family. When grilled about it, the only response my mother could come up with was, "We just liked those names." No deep mysterious reasons.

Perhaps, I thought, it had a little to do with the fact that the Lennon sisters were popular on one of my parents' favorite television shows, Lawrence Welk. Two of the four sisters were named Diane and Janet. Couldn't that be a little suspicious?

Later on, I discovered that my name was of latin origin, that there was a goddess Diana, the goddess of the moon, and of the hunt. She was the twin sister of Apollo (in Greek, her name was Artemis). I really enjoyed learning about the goddess Diana, although I felt much more ordinary, less lunar, with no hunting instincts that I could put my finger on.

Names are important. In some mysterious way, our names tell us who we are, but in other ways, they do not. We remain a mystery: to one another, even to ourselves, sometimes. Don't we? Maybe that's why, as a child, I was so interested in my name. I was a mystery to myself, and I was trying to figure it out. Perhaps the name was a clue.

So Mary and Joseph take Jesus to the temple when he is 8 days old. There he is circumsized, and there he receives his name, the name the angel gave him. His name tells us who he is in some ways, but not in others. Jesus is a form of the name "Joshua", and his name means "the Lord rescues". That is a clue, but it is really just scraping the surface of the mystery of who Jesus is.

So Sunday, January 1st is called "the Name of Jesus." It is an odd thing to celebrate, in a way. Everyone has to have a name. And what Mary and Joseph do is what every parent does: they bring Jesus to the temple at the time designated by their faith tradition, and they give him a name. Jesus. An ordinary name, but the name that will someday before every other name, according to Paul. It is a mystery. Jesus. The Lord rescues.

It's not just the meaning of the name, though -- it's more than that -- it's that now, somehow, his life and our lives are inextricably linked, and we know ourselves better in the mystery of his life, and in the mystery of his name. I suspect that we'll never get to the bottom of who he is, any more than we will get to the bottom of who we are.

All we can do is hold him, and let him hold us.

Christmas Notes

2011-12-25T21:01:00.002-06:00

....some melody notes, some harmony notes....

1. At the late service, I was part of a small group of women who sang Selections from Benjamin Britten's "A Ceremony of Carols." Six of us, just two on each part.   Singing "This Little Babe" is kind of like going down the rabbit hole in "Alice in Wonderland."

2. Preaching at the late service for the first time felt odd and disorienting.

3. This morning got up early to start cleaning the house for company before going to church to preside at Christmas day early. Got tablecloth washed.

4. This morning, I also saw a smile on our worship coordinator's face this morning when she said she was going to spend Christmas with her 4 1/2 year old granddaughter. I gave a brief introduction to the gospel procession to two new worship assistants. "Always follow the cross," I said. "Just like we do in our whole life."

5. At the beginning of the service this morning, I read the Christmas Proclamation, while our bell ringers stood in the aisles and rang softly. Then, at the beginning of "O Come, all Ye Faithful" they broke out!

6. After the service, a man asked about "The Christmas Proclamation." I gave him my copy. I downloaded it once; I can download it again.

7. I got my house clean-er for Christmas. Did not get it totally clean. Somehow we muddled through in my small kitchen, reheating the Christmas turkey and accompaniments from local upscale grocery store. Everyone liked the mashed potatoes.  We forgot all about the cranberry sauce.

8. Scout wore her new red Christmas bandana, and was a Good Dog, mostly.

9. We opened a few more presents. The hit? A melodica.

10. I had this dream of everyone going to the nursing home to visit my dad together, bringing guitars and mandolins and voices and having a little mini-concert with him. Between the dinner (a little later than I thought it would be), and opening a few presents) and waiting until we could eat again before eating the pie, the dream didn't happen. We visited my dad in shifts, without instruments, just before and while he was eating his dinner. I did sing a few Christmas carols with him. When I said, "I have to go home now," he said, "Take me with you." I said I couldn't do that and he said, "You could if you really wanted to."

Today is the Nativity of our Lord.

Snow at Christmas

2011-12-21T16:30:00.000-06:00

Just a few minutes ago I looked out my window here at the office and got very excited. "It's snowing!" I called out, to no one in particular. It looks like it will just be a few snow flurries, but it did my heart good to see it.

There is no snow here, to speak of. It is December 21st, and this is Minnesota, and by all rights, there should be snow. When people from my neck of the woods do a word association about Christmas, one of the top five words would be "snow." Most of us are dreaming of a white Christmas here. Though a few of us are happy that we don't have the slippery roads and shovelling associated with a white Christmas, there does seem as well to be a certain sense of disclocation. Where are we? What time is it?

A Christmas tree salesman told us once that when the snow is late in coming the tree sales are slow, too. We have labelled "snow" as one of the 'signs of the times' and there is some lack of urgency, perhaps. Some people say they have a hard time getting into the 'Christmas spirit' without snow.

But why is that? In a real sense, Christmas doesn't have anything to do with snow. It's not mentioned once in Luke, Chapter 2, nor in John, chapter 1. There are lots of places where Christmas comes without snow.

Maybe it's just a look I've gotten really used to, in my many years living up here. On this darkest and longest of nights, I have gotten used to looking out into the darkness and seeing something white. It's not the glow of a candle, but it sparkles and glistens. The light shines in the darkness.

Snow is one of the places I have come to look for light. But there are plenty of other places to look for light, maybe truer places ( who can say?) I just read the story of the local food drive that three Lutheran churches held. Three truckloads of food were donated, but one of the truck drivers turned out to be a thief, driving off with 1,500 pounds of food which was meant to give away. This happened on Monday.

Today I heard that these three churches have received more than enough food to make up for their loss.

The light shines in the darkness.

On Wednesdays in Advent, people from our congregation have been coming together for a short evening service. At the close of each worship service, we sing a version of the table prayer to the tune of "Tallis Canon." We have been singing it in canon, a capella. Last Wednesday there were four parts. It was beautiful, those bare voices singing.

The light shines in the darkness.

After the church service last Sunday, one man came up to me and pushed a few bills into my hand. "I didn't get a bonus this year," he said, "but I still want to help someone in our congregation." A little while later, I heard a woman telling a young African-American girl that she was beautiful. A little while later, I looked into the sanctuary and saw several people working together decorating the church for Christmas eve. One word, "Emmanuel" hangs above the pulpit in glittery letters.

The light shines in the darkness.

Even when there is no snow.

What Sweeter Music

2011-12-16T07:38:00.000-06:00

It's been unseasonably warm this week, and all the snow is gone. There wasn't a lot to begin with, really. Not like last year when we had about 34 inches of snow by this time and had already run out of places to put it.

There are good things about the weather (especially when you consider 34 inches of snow last year). It's not bitter cold, and right now driving around for those last-minute Christmas gifts and obligations does not carry additional stress. But last night the wind came up, and there was no snow, and it just seemed cold, and barren and dark.

We went Christmas shopping, just a little. We were at a large neighborhood mall, where they were playing particularly taste-less non-Christmas Holiday songs, songs that made my husband want to buy something quick and get back out of there, songs that tempted me, just for a moment, to think there really might be a war on Christmas. Yes, the music was that bad. The clerk, however, was friendly and helpful.

We wandered around the mall a little bit, to get some exercise and to look around, maybe to get some Christmas spirit. Christmas is slow coming this year. The tree is not up yet, there just a few decorations put up so far. The creche is missing a wise man. I am working on a knitting project which will be a gift, and have noticed a couple of mistakes that I can't fix, and get depressed by that. I wanted it to be perfect.

We wandered around the mall a little bit, and I heard live music coming from the mall. It was a small brass band, a community band, I think. They were playing Christmas carols. They weren't perfect, but there weren't too many bad notes, actually. Shortly after I started listening, they began a new song, one that sounded vaguely familiar, but I wasn't sure why. I stood and listened as the theme returned again and again, and a lump formed in my throat and tears formed at the bottoms of my eyes.

I asked my husband later, and he said that the song was, "What Sweeter Music," by John Rutter.

What sweeter music can we bring,

Than a carol, for to sing
The birth of this our heavenly King?
Awake the voice! Awake the string!
Heart, ear, and eye, and everything.
Awake! the while the active finger
Runs division with the singer.

Dark and dull night, fly hence away,
And give the honor to this day,
That sees December turned to May.

Dark and dull night, fly away, sing the sweeter music
and the imperfect will be perfect
or at least will be sufficient
and the dark will be light
and the house will be bright with God's presence.

It is not ordinary time.

Reflections on Life and Ministry

2011-12-12T22:01:00.001-06:00

It is late on the evening of a day off. It's been dark for a few hours now. Actually, it's been dark since shortly before 5:00 p.m., I think. There's a moon, still, big and round.

It was an unseasonably warm winter day. Most of the snow is gone. When we walk outside, it doesn't hurt.

Inside, it is not so Christmas-y either, at least in our house. We do not yet have the tree up, but we do have a plan. We have a couple of Christmas wall-hangings up, and I have begun to set out the Christmas books.

We got up early this morning and went to breakfast in St. Paul, at a great diner near the college where my husband works. He had music juries today, and I went with him so that I could work on a Christmas present while he listened to music students.

I also did a little reading. I have started reading The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. I know, I should have read this book about 20 years ago. I know I've had it sitting on my shelf for a long time, probably since seminary which is not quite 20 years ago, but close enough. I don't know why I haven't read it, but I'm reading it now. I am reading the chapter about being pro-active, which means choosing how you will respond in any situation.

After my husband was done with his juries, we stopped in at a used book store in the neighborhood. The owners of this particular bookstore are a married couple. He seems to have libertarian political views, but I prefer talking to his wife, who likes to collect children's and illustrated books. We talk about Arthur Rackham, Kay Nielsen, Wanda Gag, Maude and Miska Petersham. I can't afford to collect much, but I have a handful of treasures: a copy of A Christmas Carol illustrated by Arthur Rackham (no dust jacket, though), The Tall Book of Make-Believe, illustrated by Garth Williams, a book of hymns illustrated by Gustav Tenggren.

After returning home, my husband prepared for his evening church service. I prepared to meet with a young couple getting married in May. We let the dog out, just as it was getting dark, which we do every day, but appears to have been a mistake.

She did not want to come in. At first, it seemed normal. Sometimes she doesn't want to come in right away. She still has a little playing to do, someone to bark at, something to sniff in the yard. But usually, a couple of minutes later, she's at the back door, making pathetic whining and yodeling noises, which we interpret as "Let me iiiiiiin!"

Not tonight. We tempted her with food. We cried and cajoled. We left her in the back yard and went to do our respective ministries. I met with my young couple. We talked about the Strengths and Growth Areas they perceived in their relationship.

I came home and our dog would still not come in. I wondered if I was being pro-active or re-active. I wondered if I was a bad dog-mom. What does it mean if your dog is running in circles around you in the dark back yard, dragging an enormous stick her mouth, trying to jump over the back fence? An hour ago, I was a wise counselor, asking just the right questions to a young couple who were sitting in my well-appointed office. Now I am anything but wise, trying to figure out just the right strategy to make my dog come in for the evening.

Well, she did come in, but I will spare you the details. It involve my finding the big stick, not for violence, but for a short game of tug-of-war. For some reason, afterwards the dog sat on command and I grabbed her collar and dragged her indoors. Her paws were filthy.

Now, I am going to go back to reading about what it means to be Pro-Active, which I think is a Good Idea. I think it is a good idea for Life, and for Ministry, and Even for Dogs.

I Am So Over John the Baptist

2011-12-02T09:54:00.003-06:00

So I am going to preach on 2nd Peter, instead. You know, "we await a new heaven and a new earth"? Waiting. I get that.

Where does this John the Baptist come from anyway? I end up preaching John the Baptist every year, because if you're in a lectionary tradition, like I am, he just shows up. On the 2nd Sunday of Advent. (And on the third Sunday, too, usually.) And even to people who are used to John the Baptist, because they've been coming to church for YEARS, I still feel like I have to explain, a little. Because if you are anywhere else than in church, he seems a little out of place. Even in some churches, he seems a little out of place, actually.

I was in a different church last weekend, where it was the 1st Sunday in Advent, and they were introducing their advent theme, during which John the Baptist would not make an appearance. The theme for the four weeks of Advent would be the Beatitudes, and the main characters would be the Usual Suspects: Mary, Joseph, the Shepherds, the Wise Men. This makes sense. These are the people we are expecting, waiting for. Mary, Joseph, the Shepherds and the Wise Men fill the story of Christmas. I'm sure there is plenty to learn from them, as well.

But for me, John the Baptist just bursts in, sort of rudely, without even giving me time to pick up the mess in my house. There's not a spot for the Christmas tree yet, though I know where it will go. John the Baptist bursts in, even more abruptly than usual, because this year we have Mark's version of the story, where there is no Christmas story, and Jesus and John the Baptist both seem to come out of nowhere.

They are adults already, with no hint of where they came from, or what special credentials they have. They are just here, with words from God on their lips, if we have a mind to listen. And one of the things they remind us of is that Christmas is just the prologue, just the beginning of the story. God being a baby is just glimpse of what is to come. Maybe we want to hang out with the baby Jesus for a long time, maybe we want to make Christmas the whole show, but it's just the beginning, just the beginning of the gospel, just the beginning of what God will do.

Already, on the 2nd Sunday in Advent, we have this weird guy wearing weird clothes and eating weird food, saying, "Prepare the Way of the Lord," and it's a grown man who will come and be baptized. And people are coming, flocking out to the wilderness to hear him, because they know that their lives aren't just all sunshine and light the way they are, and they want something to change, they want something to be different. So, they're ready for a weird guy wearing weird clothes.

Yet -- can I say? Like us, they have no idea. They may want change, but they don't really know what kind of change they want. Some of them want to go back to the old days, when David was King and everything was good. Some of them just want to get Rome off their backs. Some of them want a little less poverty, a little more peace.

While we are waiting, we're waiting for a baby. But he will grow up fast. John the Baptist reminds us that Christmas is not the end point, just the beginning. John the Baptist reminds us that some things have been fulfilled, but that there are some things we are still waiting for. We are waiting for peace in our hearts, and peace in our world. We are waiting for the new heavens and the new earth. We are waiting for the dead to rise. We are waiting for bread. Some things have been fulfilled, and for some things we still wait.

And you know, though this waiting is hard (all waiting is hard), it is good, I think. I don't know if this is exactly what Peter has in mind, but one reason I think the waiting is good is because we think we know what is coming, and really, we have no idea. The future will not be like the past, and the good old days will not return, because God is doing a new thing. God is doing a new thing in the world, and God is doing a new thing in us.

And God is saying, "It will not be what you expect. But it will be good. Trust me. Be patient with me. Because after all, I am being patient with you."

The 99%, Singing

2011-11-30T11:26:00.002-06:00

It wasn't long ago that my husband and I were watching (again) the quirky little picture, "Four Weddings and a Funeral." I'm not going to say that this is one of my favorite films or anything, but it was on, and I do kind of like the whole idea of the action and plot revolving around these rituals. Near the beginning, during the first wedding, actually, there's a great scene of the congregation SINGING. And some of them, when they zoom in, are singing quite badly, which, I suppose, is meant to be funny, but I found it to be charming. I noticed this little moment more than usual, because it is really quite unusual for people to be singing at a wedding anymore. There have been lovely exceptions, in my experience as a pastor, but those singing weddings have been the exception, and not the rule.

It's not just at weddings that people don't sing. People just don't sing together like they used to. (Do they?) We had a piano in my home growing up, and my mom and dad used to sing while my mom played standards from their era. We used to sing songs while we were traveling in the car together -- you know, Row, Row, Row Your Boat, Are You Sleeping?, Down By the Old Mill Stream. And at the church we visited last weekend, a lovely church by many accounts, mostly the people stood and remained silent during the hymns (some of which I didn't know, either), except for "O Come, O Come Emmanuel."

Church used to be the last refuge of group singing, except that people don't even sing in church the way they used to. Maybe it's the numbers of people getting smaller, or maybe it's the songs getting newer, or maybe it's the loud bands, or maybe it's just that people think that, except "Happy Birthday" and "Take Me Out To The Ball Game", singing is for professionals, not for them.

You know, the 1%. The wealth of singing is being re-distributed upwards. And that's as much a shame as our other forms of wealth being re-distributed upwards. Because there's a poverty in losing our singing voices and our songs, and there's a power in singing.

I was so excited this year that one of the new features at the Minnesota State Fair was the "Great Minnesota sing-along." The idea was there was this list of 100 favorite songs and a specially designated area for people to stand and sing along while the words were posted for all to see. But the song that played while we visited? "Benny and the Jets." Now, I have nothing against this song as a SONG, but it really isn't a sing-along type of song. It's a song for soloists to shine while people maybe join in on that fun little phrase, "B-B-
B-Benny and the Jets." And Elton John, the star, plays that mean piano.

Like I said, the 1%.

When I was in high school, I sang in the choir. I never got into the choir in college, but I enjoyed singing in choir in high school, and in church, and on other occasions. And of course we weren't the 99% but we were more the 1%, those of us who took the course and learned to read music and sing in harmony. We were a choir, but still a bunch of amateurs who did the best we could. Even though there were mistakes when we got to the concert, I experienced this great power in singing together, in breathing in and out and hearing the sound come out of all of us. Afterwards, I would go home so high on singing that I would go downstairs and play the piano and sing for another hour or so, until I was hoarse.

There's a power in singing. I can't grasp it with my hands, or explain it entirely. Singing makes you feel like you can do things that are impossible. Singing unites people, while respecting their individuality. Each voice particular, but singing songs about Jesus, about love, about justice -- together. Singing expands you. The things you sing get way down into you. Sometimes it's the blues. Sometimes it's a song of thanksgiving. Sometimes it's a vision of a better world.    But the wealth of singing is being re-distributed upward, and there's more than one kind of poverty among us.

There's a place for soloists, and a place for good singers, too. I'm no singing socialist. But there also needs to be a place for everybody to sing, and to know the power in singing, even badly.   It's not all about the perfect soloist and the band that never makes mistakes. It's about us, in our imperfect lives and voices, reflecting God. The church could lead the way, help people to open their mouths, expand their lives and find out how powerful they are.

Since it's Advent, maybe we can start with "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel."    What do you say?

Thanksgiving

2011-11-26T09:17:00.000-06:00

On Thursday morning at 10:00 I was standing in front of a congregation in my church for Thanksgiving Day worship. It was a small but active group (many good singers among them); we also are a part of an ecumenical Thanksgiving Eve service where our choir joins with three other churches. I preached on both occasions so the sermon was the same, but we did a lot of singing on Thursday morning, including "Sing to the Lord of Harvest." It just isn't Thanksgiving if you don't sing this particular tune.

A couple of hours later, we were on a plane and landing in a Nearby Large City where my husband's sister and extended family were hosting Thanksgiving Dinner.

It was a large, happy, noisy crowd. There was lots of laughing, there were lots of children (eight and under), lots of food, including the famous White Jello, which I have made on occasion, with some success (some of the time.) At one point I went upstairs and crashed, missing the pie. They did leave some for me.

It's good to get away. It's good to give thanks.

It's been noisy and it's been quiet this Thanksgiving. I miss the smaller celebrations with my family, but I do enjoy being a part of the bustle and hustle, and I love all the children.

This morning it's quiet again, but last night the family came over again, and we had a noisy delicious dinner of spaghetti casserole. My husband's sister is a good cook, one of her many gifts. She also has the gift of making people feel welcome, and of not making a big deal about mishaps. She rolls with the punches. They were the first place we took our dog when she was a puppy, and it turned out to be the best idea.

So at the large Thanksgiving Dinner, I talked to a couple of people from the family I knew well, and met a new member of the family. Among other things, she recommended a book to me: "The Warmth of Other Suns." (I will read this.)

The next day we did a little shopping (though not at a large mall), and I found this wonderful picture book, "Balloons Over Broadway: the True Story of the Puppeteer of Macy's Parade". (links later, I hope). I am still working on the shawl with bobbles.

And I'm reading, at odd, quiet moments, Father Greg Boyle's book, "Tattoos on the Heart." Makes me cry. And it makes me realize how many of us, and how much of the time, we really really don't believe in the power of grace.

Bringing in the Harvest

2011-11-22T19:17:00.000-06:00

(this is the beginning of my Thanksgiving Eve sermon)

I remember sitting at the kitchen table one day when I was small, talking to my mother. I had just gotten home from a trip out to my grandparents'farm in southwestern Minnesota. As we talked and conversed about the days, what was good and what we wished was different, I suddenly blurted out, "Oh, I wish we could go and live on the farm!" My mother looked at me, smiled, and said, "you have no idea what you are wishing for." Her response deflated me, a little. I didn't know what she was talkinga bout. I thought i had a good idea! And it's also true, as well, I didn't know what I was wishing for. I didn't know then, andp robably still don't, all of what would be involved to "go and live on the farm." I didn't know, esepcially as a young child, that the life I experienced as so gracious, so abundant, so full of adventure, to her was a life of hard work, long days, and sometimes even isolation.

ONce, a long time later, I asked her more about what it was like to grow up on a farm. She told me a little about the different chores she had, some things she had to do, and she said that she really didn't miss the farm that much. She liked living in the city, liked the opportunities, liked the community, liked the kind of work she did. She didn't really miss the farm -- except at harvest time, she said. She missed the farm at harvest time.

I wondered what it was about the harvest, about that time of year, about this time of year, that made the hard work and long days of farm life worth it. I wondered what it was that made harvest different than every other time of the year. I wondered, but I didn't ask her. It is the nature of children to be no quite curious enough about their parents. Still, her statement haunted me, "I really don't miss the farm.... except at the harvest." What was it about the time of harvest that made it different, that made it special, especially on the farm? What is it about the harvest -- this time of year when we celebrate Thanksgiving? It's not an accident that Thanksgiving is at the time of year when some of us are also bringing in the harvest.

On Not Giving Up

2011-11-17T22:27:00.000-06:00

In the scheme of things, I suppose it's a small thing, but knitting has taught me something about not giving up.

I've known the basics of knitting since about the 7th grade, when a kind Home Economics teacher taught me the basics. But until the last couple of years or so, I've never made much progress.

About the time our congregation started a prayer shawl ministry, that began to change, slowly. I decided to get back into knitting. And I stopped into a few yarn stores, asking whether they had classes. Yes, I was going to make prayer shawls, but I thought I'd also renew my irrational quest to learn how to make socks.

Though I haven't gone from novice to expert knitter these past two years, I have learned how to make basic mittens, basic socks, and have also knitted a couple of simple lace pattern scarves. I started a sweater about a year ago (don't ask me why). Trying to knit a sweater has taught me how much I still don't know about knitting.

For example, "short rows." I discovered that I did not know how to knnit short rows when I attempted to bind off the shoulder seams. I had to take the sweater into the yarn store, where the store owner patiently tried to show me what to do. We also tried to figure out how to do it backwards (I'm left-handed, which complicates everything.)

After not learning how to do short-rows, I decided I needed a pattern which would force me to learn it. (This would mean another break from the sweater; oh well.) I got a ruffled scarf pattern and began.

After a few rows it was obvious to me and everyone else that I really didn't know how to do short rows yet. I ripped out my stitches. And started over. Again. And Again. And Again.

I watched right-handed people do short-rows on you tube. I downloaded explanations. I made swatches. And I also, many times, said, "This is it! I give up! I am not going to ever figure out how to do this!"

Then I would look at the four balls of yarn, beautiful yarn, sitting there on the sofa, and I would begin again.

It's a mystery to me sometimes that I am actually doing this, and not giving up. I still look at the really complicated patterns and I will say that I can't imagine that I will ever be able to do them. But I look at the next project, one step up, and think: maybe, just maybe, I can imagine doing that one.

In the scheme of things, I suppose it's a small thing not to give up on: but it's practice for the big things in life, like relationships and ministry and myself. It's a reminder that I don't have to imagine myself doing the really hard things 8 steps down the line, I just need to imagine myself doing the next project, one step farther. It's a reminder that when I'm tempted to give up on something that really matters, it's good to think about what is good and beautiful and true.

And then remember, of course, that even when I do give up, that God doesn't. Ever.

The Old Neighborhood

2011-11-11T16:56:00.001-06:00

Earlier this week, as I was visiting shut-ins those in the hospital, I ended up in the Old Neighborhood.

Not my Old Neighbor, at least not exactly, but my dad's old neighborhood, where he grew up, and the community that formed him, or at least, his faith.

I was at the nursing home across the street from the church where he was baptized and confirmed, Augustana Lutheran Church in downtown Minneapolis. It is now situated across the street from the Metrodome Stadium. The nursing home where I visited was begun by the church many years ago. It's a large complex, with different kinds of nursing facilities, assisted living, and apartments.

But the church itself is very small, or, at least it is now. In fact, I heard recently that the church building is up for sale, and that the tiny congregation is looking to move to another location not so far away.

Like I said, it's not my Old Neighbhood exactly; it's my dad's old neighborhood. He grew up at this church. In fact, when my parents were first married they belonged there. I was baptized at Augustana Lutheran Church, and started Sunday School there. I remember climbing up the many steps to the sanctuary, and having one of the ushers hand me a bulletin. That old entry with many steps was closed up many years ago; too hard for the elderly members to navigate.

I remember the large sanctuary and the tall ceiling, and the man who spoke from the pulpit (but I couldn't see him). I remember getting picked up for Vacation Bible School by the associate pastor and his family. They had a station wagon.

When I was in first grade, we moved to a church in our neighborhood, away from the city, into the suburbs. It was the first great migration, and many of the families that belonged to Augustana moved as well. They enlivened the churches in those first ring suburbs, the churches that are now experiencing decline, and wondering what their mission is.

Augustana became a small congregation, but it did not have a small vision. As I went in the door to the Augustana Home last Wednesday, I considered the ongoing legacy of care. The church may be tiny, and the church may even die, but Augustana gave itself away for the sake of the gosple. They gave themselves away starting mission congregations, too, some still going strong out in the suburbs. But at they gave themselves away most of all for the sake of the mission of caring for the elderly, for the vulnerable, for those who could no longer care for themselves.

It seems to me that there are worse things that could happen to a church. A church could disappear without ever giving itself away, preserving itself until everyone is gone and the doors are locked. The only legacy would be the building standing unused.

Of course I wish that Augustana Lutheran church, and those hardy Swedish immigrant like my grandparents could have found a way to reach out and be a vital worshipping community to the people who live there now. There is another church, I hear, who wants to buy their building perhaps. I wish that of all of our churches, in fact -- that we could learn a way to welcome one another, worship together, offering the bread of life to people who are our neighbors, even if they aren't Swedes or Germans or Irish anymore.

But it seems to me that there are worse things that can happen to a church than what is happening to Augustana. The faith of the our ancestors continues to bear fruit there, in the Nursing Home, in the Assisted Living Center, in the chapel where people gather.

I hope we can say the same when we are done. I hope they will say of us that we had dreams worthy of the mission of God, that we gave ourselves away for the least and the lost.

Got Talent?

2011-11-08T12:20:00.003-06:00

Here's a confession that may tell you more about me than you want to know:

As an adolescent, I was haunted by the this Parable, "The Parable of the Talents."

Perhaps you think it odd. I know I do, if I really consider it much. What was I doing, anyway, thinking about this parable? It's really not all that well-known, and it's not the most-discussed parable in youth groups, either. (I would give that honor to either the Parable of the Good Samaritan, or the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats: lots of good skits on those two.) Nevertheless, it is a lesson for preachers: you never know who is listening out there, and what they are hearing, when you get up and simply read the Gospel.

As for me, the hook all had to do with that word "Talent." The Parable of the Talents. It never occurred to me that a "Talent" was actually a real unit of money, like a denarius. I went directly to the word "talent", perhaps because I longed to be talented at something: singing, dancing, painting, embroidery. I wondered what it would be like to be good a shooting baskets, or hitting home runs, or running fast. (I was and still am not gifted athletically.) I was shy, but secretly wondered what it would be like to be a star in some way or another, to get up in front of people and shine.

To make matters worse, I identified with that third servant, the one who had only one measly talent and buried it in the ground instead of using it. I was pretty sure that if I had a talent, I only had one, and if I did, it was writing. But, how to use it? I obsessed about that as only an adolescent can.   (sorry about that, all you well-adjusted adolescents who do not obsess. That's what I did.) I wanted to "be a writer", but I had no idea how to go about it, and I wondered if I was not burying my one measly talent in the ground because I wasn't using it the way God wanted me to.    And I was 17.

Now that I am older if not wiser, with some Biblical exegesis under my belt, I notice a few things that I never saw before:

1. Since a talent IS actual money, the literal value of a "talent" matters. Even one talent is NOT measly. A talent is 6,000 denarii, about 20 years wages. It is a huge amount of money. It is not measly. What you have to offer is not measly.   And don't forget that God first gave it to you.

2. The third servant buried the "talent", or "money," because he was afraid he would lose it somehow. He was afraid of God's judgment about that. His picture of God was harsh and unforgiving. Coincidentally, that's just the way God behaved toward him.

3. Now, looking back, this parable seems to me less about singing or writing or baton-twirling, but about taking a risk, and specifically taking a risk for the sake of God's kingdom.  As it turns out, I'm not so great at that either. Perhaps it would help to consider God more as the one who is willing to take the risk of giving me this ridiculously valuable talent, than as the one who is willing to cast me into the outer darkness.

4. From the standpoint of being a missionary, it occurs to me that the "talents" might be the ridiculously valuable riches of the gospel, which we can bury in order to "preserve" unchanged for future generations, or share with others, which has its risks. Our church might grow, but it also might not look the same in the next generation as it did in the last one.

Forgiveness, mercy, love, embodied in our hands, our hearts, our voices, our baton-twirling, solo-singing, soup-ladling lives: ridiculously valuable. Not because of us, of course, but because of the One who threw away his life, risked his life, invested his life -- in us.

Shining in the Company of the Saints

2011-11-05T21:53:00.000-05:00

I very rarely preach on the Book of Revelation, with its scary, strange images, its shades of "Left Behind," all the connotations of end-time persecution. Ok, I'll be honest: I never preach on the Book of Revelation. Martin Luther carefully situated it at the end of the Bible, and it so rarely comes up in the lectionary, except, once in awhile, during the Easter season, and on All Saints Sunday.

All Saints Sunday.

We move All Saints Day to the nearest Sunday, kind of like those Monday holidays, because we don't really go to church except on Sunday any more (with the one exception of Christmas Eve.) So tomorrow we are celebrating All Saints Sunday, in the company of all the saints, the ones who show up to worship, the ones we will remember in our prayers, the ones we will not remember, but who are singing and praying at the throne of the Lamb, whether we remember them or not.

One of the readings tomorrow is from the book of Revelation, the strange book of Revelation. Interspersed between those apocalyptic visions of war and persecution are visions of the saints, worshiping at the throne of the Lamb. They are singing, "Blessing and glory and honor be to our Lord, and to the Lamb." They are gathered at the river that runs through the City of God, with the leaves of the trees, which are for the healing of the nations. The vision John imagines is a vision of the saints shining: worshiping God with their lives.

There will be lots of candles tomorrow, more than usual at a Lutheran service, but appropriate for a service which remembers the saints shining. It is the light of Christ which shines through our saints, the saints we remember, the saints we are. It is the light of Christ which shines as they worship God with their lives.

"Blessing, honor and glory be to God and the Lamb" we will sing tomorrow, with our voices.

Blessing, honor and glory be to God, we will sing the rest of the days of the week, with our lives.

Tomorrow, when we light the candles, I will remember Harold and Evelyn, baby Thor and Gladys, Richard and Gail. I'll remember my grandma Emma, who prayed for us every day, who worried too much, and my grandma Judy, who took me to the Salvation Army meetings once, and my grandpa Lee, who had a hard time trusting God's grace, and my grandpa Folke, who didn't talk about it much. I'll remember the people whose voices sounded like angels and those who sang out of key, the ones who worshipped in lives of service and justice, and the ones who worshipped God by acts of compassion, the the ones who worshipped God by their heart-felt prayers.

Blessing and honor and glory be to God, to the Light which vanquishes the darkness, to the light that shines through ordinary lives, through ordinary saints.

I pray there are a lot of candles lit tomorrow. Not so much in honor of the saints, but in honor of their God.

They are shining.

Friday Five: Time with Friends Edition

2011-11-04T20:19:00.000-05:00

Kathyrynzj brings us a great idea for a Friday Five today. She asks: What are five things you like to do with friends? The question itself makes me realize that I don't spend enough time with my friends.

Be that as it may, when I do get to spend time with friends, here are five ways we spend our time:

1. Dinner and conversation. Every once in awhile I'll cook a nice meal, but more often than not it's an evening out at a fun restaurant, like the evening my husband and I spent with blogger and friend Jan at the Dakota Restaurant when she was visiting Minneapolis.

2. Taking a walk. Because of where I live, often the walk will be around a lake. But, not necessarily. Sometimes it's just a nice walk and a talk through a shady neighborhood.

3. Going to church. Admittedly, this is a rare occurrence. But, last summer, on one of my Sundays off, I had fun visiting the church of one of my friends here in Minneapolis. I like to worship with friends, when I can.

4. Going out for coffee. Or chai. Or, a glass of wine.

5. Laughing.

In the past, my list might have included: 1) going to the Festival of Animation, 2) renting a lot of movies and making popcorn, 3) trying out a new recipe, 4) writing stories and reading them to each other, 5) singing (I had a couple of friends I used to sing with).

On Whether 'they' should be called "Illegal Aliens" or "Undocumented Workers"

2011-11-03T08:55:00.000-05:00

I call them "children of God."

Because, thank God, I am not a politician.

I am a Christian.

Absolutely, we can have different opinions about immigration policy.

But let us never forget that we are talking about people, people for whom Jesus died.

Halloween and The Church

2011-11-02T22:31:00.000-05:00

On Sunday night, the night before Halloween, we were invited to participate in a Halloween experience different than any other we had encountered. Younger stepson was a part of an orchestra for an event that took place the two weekends before Halloween. We were told that this was the 18th year since its inception. It was the Annual Halloween Extravaganza of the local  BareBones Productions.

So we set out for a park near the Mississippi River, eventually becoming one of a long line of cars on our way to this experience. When we got there, it was dark and cold and a young woman was orienting us to the story. It had something to do with the Book of the Dead, and death taking a holiday. There was humor and pathos. There was music, acrobats, puppets, people walking on stilts, choreography, lights. There were some elaborate sets. There most moving moment for me was when a line of people entered the outdoor stage, singing the chorus of Laurie Lewis' song, "Here Today." "We're here today/and then we're gone/Our lives are short/Just like a song." There was a story, but I confess that I didn't quite get it.

As we were walking back to our car in the darkness, I couldn't help considering the implications for the church (yes, I think there are some.)

1. We possibly put way too much emphasis on "understanding." Don't get me wrong, I'm all about 'faith seeking understanding; I'm not giving up on knowing what and why I believe for a kind of fuzzy-mindedness. But there's also a place for mystery, which I think we sometimes flatten out. Whether it's our attempts to make Christianity "practical", or figure out once and for all what Jesus actually said, sometimes all we end up doing is reinforcing the idea that God is less than the sum of our ideas. Leave room for mystery.

2. The theme was an adult one:    Simply, as much as I could get, it was "The meaning of life, and the reality of death." Yet, people brought their children. Possibly, this was because you could dress up in costumes. I don't know. What it means to me is that people are interested in grappling with hard, theological questions. The church tends to hook adults through their children. What if we hooked children through their parents?
Leave room for questions.

3. People will invest a lot of time, energy and creativity in something they are passionate about. There were a lot of people (many of them young people) who gave hundreds of volunteer hours to make this happen.  From Notre Dame to the St. John's Bible, from storytelling to poetry, from gregorian chant to Amazing Grace, creative endeavors are a powerful vehicle for truth. Leave room for creativity.

4. And don't minimize the appeal of standing outside in the dark, wearing costumes, and not knowing exactly what will happen next. Especially wearing costumes. There's something about wearing costumes that appeals to people. There's something about being someone else, whether that someone else is a monster or a queen, someone beautiful or scary, Superman or a bum. Maybe it's as simple as considering what it means to "put on Christ." Leave room for playing Christ.

5. People are hungry for mystery. They want to ask, and wrestle with the big questions.   The question is: will we leave room?

Reformation Sunday: Be Still and Shine

2011-10-31T16:17:00.001-05:00

So I wasn't preaching this Reformation, which means that I had a different kind of meditation time over the weekend, and some time on Saturday afternoon for wandering around the neighborhoods. We were over in Minneapolis on Saturday afternoon, and ran into an old friend from my church. I hadn't seen her for several years, and one of the first questions she asked was, "Are you still Lutheran?"

Not the first thing I would think of asking, but it WAS the day before Reformation Sunday, as well as TWO days before Halloween. "Are you still Lutheran?" I didn't think to ask her the same question; I kind of assumed by her question that her answer would have been 'no,' and that would have been so awkward, both my husband and I being in church work and all.

"Are you still Lutheran?"

Our theme for Reformation Sunday was "Be Still and Know That I Am God." I believe that in all of my years of celebrating Reformation Sunday, this is the first time "Be Still" has been our chosen theme. We had a lot of wonderful music with the "Be Still" theme, including a sermon that included a full minute of silence. And I will say that, in some ways, the theme did not seem traditionally Lutheran. We Lutherans are not known for our love for silent meditation; we have not traditionally been proponents of silent prayer or lectio divina. We are people of the Word. Some of our preachers might even be called Word-y. And although "Be Still and Know" is from Psalm 46 (from which Luther's famous hymn, "A Mighty Fortress is Our God" takes its inspiration), it's about the only verse you can can't find reflected somewhere in the hymn.

"Are you still Lutheran?"

All Fall, our over-arching theme has been "Shining", a holistic stewardship emphasis for fall. Every week, there has been a new glittery word hanging over the pulpit. "Family." "Giving." "Community." "World." This week the glittery word was "Faith." During my minute of silence, I noticed the shiny word "Faith" hanging there, and I thought about what it meant that Paul calls us "stewards of the mysteries of God." And I also remembered hearing somewhere that "Be Still" can also mean "Cease Striving."

"Cease Striving and Know I Am God."

This doesn't seem like such a bad reformation day theme, after all, especially if freedom, grace, and mercy are your themes.

Be Still. Cease Striving. Stop talking and listen. Stop trying to defend yourself and let God defend you. Stop trying to improve yourself, and let God make you holy. Stop trying to save yourself and let God save you.

And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.

Are you still Lutheran? Yes, indeed.

What Lifts You?

2011-10-29T13:26:00.000-05:00

I saw this question on the "Revgals" Friday Five yesterday, but didn't get around to playing.

But it was such a good question, such a necessary question, and I thought about it all day yesterday, and even this morning.

What lifts me?

There are things that get me down, sometimes. Some of the things have to do with life in the world these days, about the many cares and worries and things that are wrong, some of which I can do something about, and some which seem too big to imagine. Some of the things have to do with the state of the Church these days: not just MY church, but THE church. I think the thing that gets me going is that it's hard to figure out which things I have power over, and which things I need to live with. The Church is never going to be perfect. Yet God has chosen the church to bear his love to the world.

Then there are the little things (or big things) in life that sometimes get me down. The refrigerator breaks, the dog scratches herself and has sores, the dishes need to be done, I have to rip out knitting (again), I have too much stuff. Things like that.

So, what lifts me?

Here's a list:

1. The sun. I saw it, this morning. It rises later and later these days, but right now it is bright. Some leaves have fallen, but there are som bright flashes of brilliant red left, and they glitter today.
2. A good hamburger, made by my husband. Who needs gourmet?
3. A small, independent bookstore, nicely appointed, with friendly, well-read clerks.
4. Really, really, really pretty, old, books, with nice illustrations.
5. Someone saying "yes". Whether it is "yes, I'll help with Sunday School," or "Yes, I'll put address labels on envelopes," or "Yes, I'll watch that movie with you." YES.
6. The color lime green.
7. yarn. And the stuff I make out of yarn.
8. Wearing something I have made.
9. Giving something I have made.
10. Advent: four Sundays of Hope. Coming soon. Hear about in church. See it in the world.
11. Telling and Hearing Stories. And I'm not very discriminate about this. I like to hear and tell all kinds of stories, funny, sad, sacred, profane, short, long. I have just begun reading Mighty Be Our Powers, the story of the how the women of Liberia worked for peace.
10. 2 Corinthians 4 -- the knowledge that we have the treasure of Christ in the fragile clay jars of our lives.

What lifts you?

What lifts you?

Presents

2011-10-24T22:14:00.001-05:00

I have a very old, very worn book called Bless My Growing. It is a book of poems by a Lutheran pastor named Gerhard Frost. It is long out of print. It has tape on the edge. The pages are loose. I have used it many times since becoming a pastor.

But I lost track of the young woman who gave it to me, someone I attended college with. I got to know her during my senior year. She loved this little book, and gave me a copy, just because she loved it so much.

***

Once, many many years ago, as a young woman just out of college and just working in an office, I was standing in line to eat in a downtown cafeteria. I struck up a conversatsion with a woman standing in line next to me. We were probably commiserating about the varieties of jellos and entrees, I can't really remember. But in the end, she and her husband and I ended up sitting together and eating and talking.

As it turned out, she and her husband owned a very small book publishing concern in Menomonie, Wisconsin. Before we parted ways, she gave me three small hand-sewn booklets from their publishing company, called The Vagabond Press. I still have them.

***

Of the many gifts I received when I was leaving Japan, perhaps the most prized was the porcelain doll I received from the 9th grade boys. A number of them handed me the doll at the very last moment before my mother and I got on a train headed to Tokyo. I remember them standing there in black school uniforms, and bowing before one of them quickly handed me a bag with the doll inside.

The 9th grade boys were never my easiest class. We tried everything to get them to pay attention in class, be more respectful, and learn English. The gift of the doll was a great surprise, and somehow, humbling

She was a Hakata Ningyo, dressed in kimono, and it looked like she was kneeling in prayer.

I carried her back with me on the plane, cradling her gently on my lap. Then, several years later, while I was carelessly adjusting a shelf, she toppled and crashed to the floor.

***

When I arrived at my first parish in South Dakota, the whole congregation was there to welcome me. Or so it seemed. They helped me unpack the trucks, and left useful items like dishtowels, rugs, glasses and tableclothes. Each church had a women's group; each of the women's groups also presented me with a hand-sewn quilt.

***

Today there came in the mail a package for me. It was two skeins of yarn, hand-woven in another state. It was sent to me by a friend I have never met, someone I only know through blogging.

On Short and Long Pastorates

2011-10-16T21:08:00.000-05:00

A while back, a friend of mine said to me, in a sort-of-an-offhand way, that she would like to talk to me sometime to find out "what it's like to stay in a church for a long time."

My friend doesn't feel as if she has stayed in one church, or one call for that long, or at least, she hasn't stayed in one place for as long as I have. This is, by all accounts, "a long time."

I will say that at first the question puzzled me, a little.  Is staying in one place for "awhile" such an odd thing? And is it a bad thing? Or a good thing?

I have heard people speak both admiring and disparaging words about long pastorates. I've never heard anyone talk about pastors who leave "too soon", although I would think it's as tempting to bail out when we hit a rough patch early on as it is to linger too long if we think that things are going well.

That being said, I think that there are both pitfalls and benefits to a long pastorate, both for the pastor and for the congregation. The pitfalls are easiest to identify: the temptation to identify a congregation too much with the personality of the pastor, the temptation for the congregation to depend on the pastor too much, and the temptation for the pastor to depend on the congregation as well. There's also the temptation to rely on old patterns and things that have become comfortable when those patterns need to be adapted to a new reality.

But, I think there are benefits sometimes, to a long pastorate, to a pastor and a congregation wrestling together, changing together, as in a good long marriage which has weathered many storms and come out stronger. I think there are benefits, if the congregation and the pastor are both healthy, can both look at what they need to do to continue to fulfill the mission in that place.   There's the benefit of really knowing each other, being able to get past those first romantic honeymoon years with one another, seeing each other (both pastor and congregation) for who you really are, both strengths and besetting sins, and then looking each other in the eye and saying, "But I believe God has called us to be his people in this place, anyway." There's something good, but really, really hard about that.

So, I'll answer my friend, who asked me, "What is it like to stay in one place for a long time?"

It feels good some days. I know all of the names of the children. I know many of the stories of the people who are here: where they came from, what they have come through. I have seen people come and go; I have grieved and celebrated, seen success and failure.

Other days it feels hard. I have succeeded sometimes as well as failed here. I have made mistakes and had to say, "I'm sorry." I have had to pick myself up and start over. I have had to look at myself in the mirror honestly and admit what my struggles are. Here, the people know me; I can't fool them.

But, sometimes the hard thing to do is the right thing to do.

That's what I 'll tell my friend, if she asks me again.

On How We Do Stuff, but Doing Stuff Doesn't Save Us

2011-10-13T20:02:00.002-05:00

A couple of days ago, I asked a not-so-innocent question on facebook, "What is worship?" Not so innocent because I know that the word "worship" is notoriously difficult to define, and also because the theme this Sunday (when I am, coincidentally, preaching), is Shining in our Worship. That's not the Sermon Title, but that's the theme.

One of the first commenters was one of my Lutheran friends (I am Lutheran) assserting that "we don't do anything" and that "we have totally mixed this up." She actually had some really good points about what God does in worship, coming to us and "making us Christian." I totally agree.   There is a sense in which "we can't do anything." As a good Lutheran, I am forced to admit that "I cannot believe in Jesus Christ or come to him. But the Holy Spirit has called me through the Gospel...." In worship, God is coming to us, saving us, working in us.

And yet.....I'm an English major, and I have to make this sentence.

"We worship God." It's not the other way around. "God worships us." (typing that just made me shudder, a little.) (I do suspect that my friend's point, though, is that often the sentence becomes, "we worship ourselves", sadly.)

Be that as it may, we do something. We worship. We worship God. Or, sometimes, we worship other stuff. You know. football.   money. success. our ability to pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps. ourselves. We worship. And I would even hazard an opinion that it is necessary to worship, just as it is necessary to serve, to work, to pray, to do justice, to love kindness.

I have always counted the verse in Matthew about how "not one jot or tittle of the law will pass away" as one of the most vexing, most puzzling, until suddenly, recently, it came to me: it's absolutely true. Not in a micro-every-verse-in-the-Old-Testament sort of way, but in a more macro-do-justice-love-kindness-walk-humbly sort of way.

Our responsibilities to our neighbor, to care about and work for our neighbor's good never end. There's never a time when we can say "we're done, it's all right now." Our responsibility to worship God, to give honor and praise to God (and not the other way around) does not end either. So just because we came to worship this week, doesn't mean that we're done now; we don't have to do it any more.

In Lutheran language, we call this "first use of the law."

Or, "we do stuff, but doing stuff doesn't save us."

And our obligations don't end -- Jesus saved you now, so you don't have to help your neighbor, or honor your father or mother, or practice stewardship of your resources.

Sorry. Not one jot or tittle....You're not off-the-hook for your responsibilities as a human being.

But, this 'stuff' we do, whether it is tithing, or singing our guts out, or shoveling our neighbor's walk, or feeding the hungry -- doesn't save us.    Whether we are abject failures at doing these things, or whether we think we're pretty good at all or some of them, none of this stuff saves us.

In worship, we raise our hands and voices and hearts in offering to God. But the Offering has first gone the other way. God comes to us, gives himself to us, saves us, sets us free, makes us God's own people. All of the important things in our lives are being done, have been done, by God.

All of the important things in our lives are being done, have been done, have been promised by God, in Christ. Including the promise of a new creation where justice will be done, where the hungry will be fed, where death will be no more, where we will worship at the throne of the Lamb, singing our guts out.

And because of this, because of this gift, because of this grace, because of this promise, we do stuff.

"Hope and Change"

2011-10-12T07:46:00.002-05:00

"What do you hope for?"

That's the question that has been going through my mind lately. I'm not sure why: perhaps it has something to do with the congregational transition here, the hopes regarding a new senior pastor, the changes we see in our community, and what it means for our faith community. Perhaps it has something to do with our society itself: disasters both natural and man-made, people occupying Wall Street, warnings about environmental and economic catastrophes. There is a lot of uncertainty. In the midst of this, what do you hope for? I mean, really. What do you hope for?

I googled the word "hope" recently, looking for quotes, and discovered lots and lots of quotes. "Hope" is a word that can carry a lot of meanings, both deep and mundane, as in "I hope it doesn't rain!" or "Everything that is done in the world is done by hope." Whoa. Hope is a powerful thing, to bring hope is power.

So, what do you hope for, really? Be honest now.

One of the issues in the church today is all of the churches that used to be big, that used to be full of worshippers every Sunday, and now are not so full. And the temptation is to hope for things to be like they were in the past: to say, I hope for a day when the churches are full again, like they were before, we hope for a time when we had 1,000 children in Sunday School. We hope things can be like they were in a decade that we liked better than the one we are in now.

But is this really hope? A good hope will point toward something in the future, not to the past. Christian hope is God's promise for a new world, not a wish for an old one.

I remember once sitting in a shelter, talked to a woman who worked with women trying to escape domestic abuse. In a way, the woman said, hope is a great enemy, at least if it is a false hope that their partner will change. This false hope keeps them from making changes that will really set them free for a better future.

So, what do you hope for? really

For the church, our hopes are based on God's promises to us: a promise for a new world where the Lamb rules, where death is no more, where tears are dried, where there is enough for all, enough healing, enough love, enough food, enough dignity. Our hopes are based on a vision of the throng worshipping at the throne of the Lamb. And these hopes sustain us even when there is not such a great throng worshiping in the sanctuary.

So, what do you hope for, really?

That's the first question.

Friday Five: The Things We Do For Love

2011-10-07T16:38:00.000-05:00

Songbird, over at the Revgalsblogpals site, has this fascinating Friday Five for us. She writes:

I have a friend who, when she has to be away from her child, goes to the trouble of planning a present for each of the days they will be apart. (This is not one of those stories where "a friend" means the person who is telling the story.) I'm impressed by her organizational skills and her creativity and her thoughtfulness.

She does these things for love.

And although love looks different depending on how we best express it, there are definitely things we do for love. So for today's Friday Five, please share the following five things:

1) Something you did for love that was a hit
Well, I got my husband an iPad for his birthday, even though I really wanted one myself. It's a hit because he uses it all the time now, and we bring it everywhere we go. We even brought it to the nursing home last weekend when we went to visit my dad. We showed him old video clips of movie stars and radio personalities. His eyes lit up and he said, "get me one of those for my birthday." So, I guess this was a hit, on many levels.

2) Something you did for love that was more of a miss
Though there are lots of those (and why am I thinking about presents, mostly?)(I don't know) I bought a game for my husband that I thought he would REALLY LIKE. I had this great dream of how he would sit around and play it all day on Christmas. It's downstairs, collecting dust.

3) Something someone did for love of you
My mother sewed almost all my clothes when I was growing up. Though there were also financial considerations, I think she sewed well and with care for love of us. I remember wearing a plaid pants suit to high school and having a teacher remark that the plaids matched, and say, "There's a lot of love in that outfit."

4) Something you *wish* someone would do for love of you
Buy me an iPad

5) Something you've done for love of God
Go to Japan for three years as a missionary.
Sing my guts out.
Stand up in front of people and talk.
Write.

What I Thought I Was Getting Into

2011-10-01T23:10:00.000-05:00

This summer one of my friends celebrated twenty-five years of ordination. She had a big party with a dinner and cruise on the St. Croix River. Today I read in a church newspaper that a young woman has been named as Senior Pastor at a very large church in our neighborhood.

It made me think back to the year 1990, the year I began seminary, and what I thought I was getting into, back then.

After a year or so of deliberation, and the prodding of the Holy Spirit, I began my studies. (My year or so of deliberation included preaching at a couple of Lenten services, and taking a class at the semninary. Maybe I did a couple of other things, but I I can't remember now.)

I remember that I wondered for awhile if God had given me gifts to do this work. After all, I am slightly shy by nature, and as a child I couldn't imagine myself standing in front of people. But in the end, I thought that God had given me gifts, and I even thought I knew what they were.

I thought that one of my gifts would be preaching. I thought this because I write well. I also thought that my missionary past would be a gift, a passion for reaching out. (It was just too bad that I served in a country where success in mission was painfully slow.) When I started seminary, my memories of Japan were only five years old, and I still felt sort of exotic because of those experiences. I loved theology and was pretty sure that this was a good sign as well. I had done different things as a lay leader in the congregation (teach Sunday School, sit on the church council, sing in the choir), and also liked being with both little kids and old people. I knew that I would have to do some hospital and shut-in visitation, but I had seen pastors whose ministry became chaplaincy, and knew that I wouldn't want to create a dependency. "Pastoral Care" would not be one of my strong points. Oh yes, and I'm creative, and I have had spiritual experiences. Those would be helpful too.

Anyway, that's what I thought then.

I will also confess to you that, back then, I did not have a good idea what pastors did all week.

So here I am, about 18 years into this pastor gig.

I still think I have gifts for ministry. I'm not always sure of what they are, and sometimes gifts (and liabilities) have surprised me. I have discovered that I love visiting people, both the shut-ins when I take communion, the people in the hospital, but just sharing a cup of coffee or tea with someone, and hearing a little bit of their story. I am sometimes in awe of a moment in a conversation when a little window opens up.

I have also been told that I "wasn't spiritual enough." That was a surprise. So, I have mixed feelings about claiming that I'm "spiritual" or not.

I really want to connect people with gifts, and people with people.

I really want the church to reach out to un-churched people, and to show they care about the people who live around them. But I know I it's difficult and I don't always know how to do it.

I have discovered that churches need pastors and leaders, people who care and people who have courage, and that courage is hard, and that sometimes I fail at it, and sometimes I succeed.

I have discovered that I have both gifts that I didn't know about and liabilities that I didn't know about.

So, I'm 18 years into this pastor gig. In a few ways, it's what I thought it would be. In a lot of ways, it's very different. It's different than I thought it would be, more varied, more puzzling, more rewarding, but also more challenging. It's also different than it used to be.

It seems to me that people used to think of the church as a sort of still point, offering a sort of stability from week to week. But now I think that the church needs to be seen as moving from 'here' to 'there' -- moving from the old world to the new, and pastors and other leaders need to be like Moses, leading through the wilderness, or Ezra, re-building the temple.

So, I'm 18 years into this pastor gig, and sometimes I do wonder if I really knew what I was getting into. Probably not.

Brief Encounters While Walking the Dog

2011-09-29T19:42:00.001-05:00

Here's something I'm not proud to admit:

I don't walk the dog as often as I used to.

In fact, I am positively lazy in this regard sometimes.

A combination of two things contributes to this reality (okay, really three if you include laziness), the first is my ongoing problem with plantar faschiatis, which seems to have migrated from my left heel to the right one, now. The second thing is our fenced-in backyard. I initially began taking Scout for long walks every day because we did not yet have a fenced-in backyard. But even afterwards, the habit persisted, until laziness and the sore feet conspired against me.

I think Scout does enjoy the free time in the back yard. Sometimes when I peek out to watch here, she is just gazing medititavely into space, the tao of dog. Other things, she is taking off as if to chase invisible prey. This morning, I happened to look outside just at a moment when she was writing joyfully on her back.

But I know she would benefit from a regular walk, as would I.

So yesterday my better nature won out over my sloth. I put on my tennis shoes and a sweat shirt, put the leash on the dog and set out.

It wasn't a long walk, not like the long walks we used to have, anyway. But at the corner was a young mom who was waiting with her two daughters for the school bus. One of the girls got on; the other stayed behind. I recognize this family though I don't know them by name. It seems they know Scout; she is more famous than I am. The little girl wanted to pet her. At first, it seemed that Scout was not going to oblige, but at the last minute she decided that being petted was a good idea.

I decided to take a risk and invited them to our Animal Blessing Service this Sunday. They demurred; they weren't sure their dog was ready for public appearances yet. I wondered if they had a church affiliation, but didn't ask.

We started back down the block toward home when I heard a voice.

It was our next-door neighbor, complimenting our newly-landscaped front lawn. He seemed positively giddy with delight that our lawn now does not look as awful as it did before. He was very friendly for so early in the morning. I made a comment about the new priest at their church, and he mentioned that they no longer attend that congregation; they've been going to a local mega-church which does not make a big deal about their denominanational affiliation. He likes it, he said. I wondered what it was he liked, but didn't have a chance to ask.

So, throughout the day, off and on, I wondered: I wondered what it is that attracts people to a congregation, what makes them decide to stay, or leave, to set foot in the sanctuary, or not. I wondered what a person who comes to visit us is looking for, or not looking for. I don't want to be the kind of person who reads a book (or books) and assumes she knows what people's hearts yearn for. So, I just had two small conversations, and I wondered a little.

Scout and I have to get out more.

It's good for both of us to practice the spiritual discipline of walking.

And wondering.

Conversion

2011-09-26T08:11:00.002-05:00

I'm for it.

Perhaps you are surprised. After all, I'm a born-and-bred, dyed-in-the-wool, baptized-when-I-was-4-weeks-old-and-proud-of-it Lutheran. I do mark that early date, May 19 of the year I was born, as the beginning of my relationship with God. I love baptisms, whether the baby is 5 weeks old or three years old, or 10 years old, or twenty five years old, or eighty-one years old. I love baptisms. I think my congregation will attest to this, the sheer graciousness of the event, every time.

And yet....

We had a guest preacher at church today, a woman from India who is also a missionary in India. She told us powerful stories of God's movement in her life, her family's life, the lives of the students at the school where she teaches. She told stories of how she came to the United States with $200 from her parents, and one suitcase, and how her mother said, "you'll make it." She told a story of a ten-year-old girl praying for her family, a story of God opening a hard heart: stories of conversion.

Conversion stories have always had a place in my heart. From Anne LaMott reporting how Jesus dogged her like the hound of heaven, to Lauren Winner's strange dream and warm affinity for the stories of Jan Karon, I've been fascinated by stories of how people have come to faith. When in high school a friend of my father's gave me the old classic The Cross and the Switchblade, and perhaps started right then and there my attraction to the dramatic conversion story. It's so different from my own journey, from baptism to Sunday School, from Church camp to college, from Japan and back to the United States, from teaching English to working for an insurance company and then from seminary to where I am now.

Wait a minute.

What about my struggles and doubts in my senior year of high school, followed by that "leap of faith"? What about the religious experiences I had when I was in college? What about the experiences I had in Japan, when I realized (suddenly or not) that faith was a much wider, and varied thing than I had thought before? Or what about the conversion I experienced after reading Ron Sider's Rich Christians in a Age of Hunger for the first time? And there has been the long conversion I have experienced after knowing Gay and Lesbian Christians.

Perhaps it's wrong (actually I'm sure it's wrong) to limit conversion stories to the once-in-a-lifetime and dramatic stories of people who turn from the gangs of New York to the arms of Jesus. Conversion is a natural part of the Christian life, even and especially for people who were baptized when they were four weeks old. And I think that people who think they were converted once, and are now done, are wrong about that: life with God means continuing to be open to being converted.

I have come to believe that in the life of a believer there are many conversions. Some are dramatic and some are subtle, and none of them takes away from God's grace, God's coming-to-me-no-matter what. Conversions don't save us, they don't make God love us any better, but they do something important in us, and, I believe that conversions are God's work in us, too.

When people experience a sort of conversion something is kindled or re-kindled in us, something necessary, I think, when we are in this Christian life for the long haul. Let's be honest. Whether you are a dyed-in-the-wool, baptized-when-you-are-4-weeks-old Lutheran or a hands-waving-in-the-air Pentecostal, or even Spiritual-but-not-religious, a lot of life is boring. Church can be boring. Seeing God in a cricket or a sunset can be boring. Following God can be boring, because it is a daily thing, step by step, sometimes tracing the same steps. Who told us that we needed to be constantly entertained, to entertain each other? You know: chop wood, carry water. Before and after enlightenement.

Except that there are these flames, small or large, that turn us around. Sometimes it's a person you met or a place you went that changed your perspective, and kindled a new flame in your heart. Sometimes it's a song you sang that was boring every time: until today. Sometimes it's the hard times when you thought that faith was gone and then there was a small pin-prick of light, and it got bigger. Sometimes it happens in a strange place, and sometimes in a familiar place.

Come to think of it, I do think that conversions save us, in a way. Not in the long-run, but for continuing daily service and worship in this life, this amazing and boring life. Something is kindled or re-kindled in us. God turns us around, turns the lights on bright again, for just a little while.

Conversion: I'm for it.

Saturday Night

2011-09-24T21:14:00.000-05:00

Saturday nights are quiet around the house. No late night parties, no big plans (usually), no large dinner parties (or small ones, even). When I preach on Saturday, in fact, I'm usually in the office for at least part of the day, after which we do something really exciting like watching "Antiques Roadshow". I might glance over my sermon once or twice, or I might avoid it altogether until just before I go to bed.

This weekend I am not preaching. I'm not even presiding at the early service. It feels odd, actually.

So, I'm knitting a turquoise footie (the second one, actually). Last weekend, I started it, found a dropped stitch, and ended up ripping up the whole sock and starting over. I'm just about where I started again. (There's a metaphor in there, somewhere, I'm sure. Or, a sermon illustration.)

I'm reading a little. I just finished The Birchbark House, by Louise Erdrich, and want to get the next in the series as soon as I can. I read all of the Little House books when I was little. Louise Erdrich was inspired to write her counterpoint from the Native point of view, at least in part, because of something Caroline Ingalls said in one of the books, "There's no one here." I'm glad to know this Ojibwe family; I think in future books they will probably travel from place to place like the Ingalls family, but for different reasons.

We watched an old movie from 1932, Love Me Tonight, while my husband did interesting historical background on his ipad. He also worked on an old acrostic. I could watch over and over the opening sequence, in which the song "Isn't it Romantic?" travels from person to person and place to place.

Tomorrow, I'm looking forward to hearing Nihjar Ekka-Minz preach, instead of me. I'm looking forward to hearing about work in faraway North India. Nihjar and her husband tell fascinating stories. And I can't help loving stories.

I Remember Riding in the Car with My Dad when I was Little

2011-09-21T13:03:00.000-05:00

"You shall put these words of mine in your heart and soul, and you shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and fix them as an emblem on your forehead. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you area t home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates, so taht your days and the days of your children may be multiplied in the land that the Lord swore to your ancestors to give them, as long as the heavens are above the earth."

Deuteronomy 11:18-21

I remember riding in the car with my dad when I was little. I remember partly because when I was small, my dad had a big orange van that he used for his business, which was TV Sales and Service. It had the words G&B TV on the side in great big letters. This was an era waaaaay before SUVs, and riding in my dad's van was an adventure. Sometimes when we set out, he would pretend that we were taking off in a huge jet liner: "Pilot to co-pilot/pilot to co-pilot, come in please," he'd say to me.

I remember riding in the car with my dad.

Sometimes we'd be going to get the Christmas tree, and he'd be singing Christmas carols all the way there and back. Sometimes he told jokes, kind of cheesy jokes, actually, and other times we'd have serious conversations, especially as I got older.

We discussed questions, even theological questions, on occasion, talked about (for example) what was the most important day in the church year (Easter? Christmas? Pentecost?), or why bad things happened to good people (neither of us had the answer to that). I remember on a couple of occasions, he talked about tragedies we had heard about on the news, and people's statements that they were saved from death or injury or some bad thing, becasue "God was with them." But, my dad would always say, "What about all those other people? The ones who died? The ones who suffered?" Wasn't God with them, too? Didn't God love them too?

I remember riding in the car with my dad, and the converesations we had.

"Teach (these things) to your children, talking about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise."

One of the things I think about often is what it means to live a generous life. What does it mean for us, as individuals, as families, as a congregation, to be known as generous? There are a lot of components to this, lots of ways to practice generosity -- or not. There are people who are quick to give, a little or a lot, whenever there is a need. There are people who are quick to extend their own hearts to others, be vulnerable, share their own struggles, be real.

My dad wasn't perfect by any means. But it seems to me that he had a kind of generosity, the generosity to count among God's blessed ones the suffering and the sorrowing, the down-and-out as well as the up-and-coming.

As we contemplate in our congregation what it means to live a generous life, I hope that our definition will include both generous financial giving to the mission of our congregation, and a generous heart, one that extends God's presence and God's love to the ones who need it most.

I remember riding in the car with my dad, when I was little.

Friday Five: Seeking What?

2011-09-16T12:03:00.002-05:00

I haven't done the RevGals "Friday Five" for a long time. This one, from Jan, seemed like a good place to start:

I was struck in our weekly Lectio Divina group by a few verses from Psalm 105: 3-4

. . let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice.

Seek the Lord and his strength;

seek his presence continually.

Seeking is rejoicing. Rejoicing comes from the seeking, NOT the end of glory, heaven, enlightenment, or whatever. Seeking is the journey--RIGHT NOW!

So for this Friday Five, list what you are seeking, whether it is trivial, profound, or ordinary--whatever you would like to share. List 5 and add a bonus if you feel like it.

Here are my five:

I am seeking:

1. Community. Not perfect community, but a community that both wants to work together for a larger purpose, and a community that supports and and encourages one another, and especially those who are most vulnerable.

2. An Outlet for Creativity. Some space and some self-discipline for writing. A know friends who regularly get prayers and worship materials published, and I find myself a little jealous, both thinking about having the venue and also finding the time.

3. Beauty. I do find myself drawn to beauty, in all its forms. I just learned that the St. John's Bible is finished, for example. I bought a little piece of folk art and a storyteller doll when we were in New Mexico/Colorado. I buy yarn sometimes, even before I know what it's for, just because it looks so beautiful, and full of possibility to me.

4. Light. Our church's fall theme (which is actually a stewardship theme, but that's another post) is "Shine!" so everywhere I go, I'm seeking out light, from flashlights to candles to a video of the northern lights in Iceland. And mirrors. And a child's eyes. The light of a smile, and the way tears glisten. Help me find some more light, will you?

5. Laughter. I just found this great quote, "Laughter is an instant vacation." So I am seeking opportunities to laugh, sometimes, even when I'm close to tears.

BONUS: Wisdom. that's all I'm going to say about that.

P.S. the four things that I was missing last week: a small pen, my watch, a gift card and a knitting pattern -- have all been found, as of yesterday.

They're Back

2011-09-13T18:10:00.000-05:00

This Sunday was "Rally Day" on the church calendar, the day that the prodigal worshipers return (well, most of them, anyway), the day we are most likely to have visitors (other than Christmas and Easter), the day Sunday School starts, and a day when there are always plenty of brightly-colored balloons.

The children are back. The youth are back. The babies are back -- I can hear some crying in the back pew. There are a couple of families that I haven't seen in awhile, a new young couple in the adult choir, and also playing the handbells. There are teachers starting off the school year, and children with and without backpacks (we ask them to bring backpacks.)

I like to have children and adults help with the service, but we decided that the service was so full already, full of prayers and blessings and the children singing "This little light of Mine." So we only read the gospel at the second service.

I asked one of our high school students to do something different instead: help me in leading the intercessory prayers. We both knelt at the altar, trading petitions back and forth. I thought I saw a couple in the front beaming as she went back to her seat at the close of the prayers.

Earlier in the service, we blessed the children and their backpacks. There were so many up there I thought I would get lost in the crowd (perhaps I did; I'm a little height challenged). I've never done this before, but I decided to ask the congregation to raise their hands forward in blessing as we said the prayer. I then invited Sunday School teachers, and all teachers to come forward and be blessed at the beginning of their school year.

We raised our hands again.

If we learn nothing else in church, I wish we could learn to bless one another -- our children, the single person sitting alone, the grandparents, the parents, the non-parents, the out-of-work, the tired, the stranger, the one weeping, the one whispering.

If we learn nothing else in church, I wish we could learn to bless one another -- the clerk at the supermarket, the guy on the ladder, the man in the nursing home, the person who gives you a kiss when you walk in the door, the person who hates you, the person who doesn't understand you, or who knows you too well.

If we learn nothing else in church, I wish we could learn to bless one another, to raise our hands forward, to touch each other's lives, to change the world.

Just Another Meeting Night

2011-09-08T22:01:00.000-05:00

My congregation has been in a pastoral transition for about a year now, which poses its challenges, creates opportunities, and -- may I say -- also causes me, occasionally, to be surprised.

Our congregation, like many other congregations, has meetings. We have Leadership Board meetings. We have Worship Planning Meetings. We have Committee Meetings. We have Global Mission Meetings. We have Education Meetings. We have Stewardship Meetings (sometimes). Lately, since we are in a pastoral transition, there have been other sorts of meetings as well.

You get the picture.

As associate pastor, there have been places where my input has been welcome, and other areas that I haven't been much involved. One of the places I haven't been involved has been a group called the "Nominating Committee." Their job has been to help fill the positions on the Board and other committees as they come up for election.

Like many jobs involving regular meetings, there hasn't been a long line of people waiting to do this job.

But about a year and a half ago, I had an idea about doing something different with this group. And, since no one told me not to, I started doing it.

Using some principles from the field of organizing, I made the former "Nominating Committee" into a "Leadership Development Committee" instead, with these objectives:

1. Create connections and get to know other people in the congregation.
2. Learn more about them as people: their stories, their interests, passions, concerns.
3. Help them to find places in and out of the congregation to develop their gifts.
4. Find out who can be developed as a congregational leader and help them find places to serve.

I didn't get this out of a book I read, and, even now, I wonder if this will work. We are coming up to the Congregational Meeting at the end of the fall, and will need to have people willing to serve in congregational positions. That's the criteria I imagine the congregation will use to judge whether this "system" works.

In the meantime, we try to have "one to one" conversations with two other people very month and report out on them. Recently we discovered in a conversation a retired woman who really wanted to be involved in a Social Service ministry -- so we're giving her the opportunity. We're making lists of people who like to do "hands on" ministry and hate meetings, who play instruments, who like to sing, who like to clean and to cook. We're finding out about people who are passionate about being a more diverse and inclusive faith community.

(Now we could use a good method to keep track of all of this information for us.)

When we do ask people to do a task, or lead a group, or be involved in something, we do it in the context of a relationship we are building, and after knowing something about the person we are talking to. We HOPE that we are asking them to be involved in something that they care about, and that will help them grow in their discipleship.

Every month when we meet around the table, I'm amazed: what we are doing feels strategic, holy, and risky. I go away every month impressed by the leadership of the people around the table, the people they are meeting, the circles that a rippling out from six people into the congregation.

As associate pastor, I often had ideas, sometimes ideas that I didn't really have the power to implement. It's always safer to have an idea if you don't ever had to try it and see if it works. (something like being a political pundit.)

But here I am, putting an idea into action, experimenting with my congregation, rallying the troops, not really knowing whether what I am doing will succeed or fail. I do think that this organizational principal will bear fruit, but that we will have to be patient. But I don't KNOW it. What I do know is that I am discovering (by experiment) more and more of who I am as a leader.

I'll let you know how it goes. Okay?

On Labor Day: Respecting All Kinds of Work

2011-09-05T09:01:00.003-05:00

The other day, I was doing a little "internet checking" and went into a website called "Viewshound", where anyone can publish their views and opinions on almost everything. I actually got an article published there once, a few weeks ago; I wanted to check out their religion section, which is listed (interestingly) within a larger section called "Real Life."

There I was pleased to find an article by a man who took the time and trouble to write about his faith as a Christian, in response to an atheist who had posted earlier. I resonated with the inclusivity of his faith and his witness of "total dependence on Jesus."

Then, at the end, came the zinger. He doesn't go to church, because the churches make him mad. (Ok, so I kind of get that.) And, to top things off, pastors make him mad as well, with their "easy jobs and cushy pensions."

Well, all righty then.

After the defensive knee-jerking (you think my job is easy? Just try presiding at the funeral for a still-born baby, or coordinating moving help for the woman who's losing her home, or talking to the people who come in looking for cash, or talking to the couple who won't talk to each other, or just standing in front of people every Sunday and looking into their eyes, and knowing they are all expecting a good word for their lives, and for the battles they face....)

After the defensive knee-jerking was done, what I was left with was the understanding of what it feels like when your vocation has been dismissed as something relatively easy and without much value.

I think that pastors are also guilty of doing this, although in more subtle ways. Sometimes it's not understanding what it's like to work eight hour days, with 1/2 hour for lunch. Sometimes it's not understanding that there are a lot of other vocations where people need to work evenings or take work home, or where the hours are erratic. Sometimes it's not understanding that the people who are our church leaders are doing this volunteer work on top of their other work.

But lack of respect for different kinds of work is everywhere, not just the man who thinks that I have an "easy job", but in the people who like to think that teachers and other public employees are the cause of our problems, in the people who think that those who work with their hands have easy work, or that those who use their brains more than their hands have easy work, or that those who get to go home at 5:00 have easy work, or that those who have a flexible schedule have easy work. Lately there has been disturbing rhetoric that I think tries to elevate certain kinds of work (some people are "job creators" and others are not) without understanding the value and the challenges and the necessity of all kinds of work.

Professional musicians I know sometimes complain that no one really understands the complex set of skills and physical challenges of their work -- after all it looks so fun, and some people do it for fun. But the same thing could be said about the landscaper who is coming to beautify our front yard, or the hairdresser, or the homebuilder. And what about the clerk who rings up your purchases, or the waitress that serves you, or the janitor who comes in the night and cleans the building where you work? I will come right out and say that though I have typed for a living, I have never worked a cash register, or waitressed. I have known for almost all of my life that I would not be good at waitressing. I bow to those who are.

So this Labor Day, I give thanks for the garbage collector, the clerk at my grocery store, the teachers and nurses and doctors, secretaries and administrators, those who work on assembly lines, musicians and artists, the landscaper and the person who repairs the roof, I give thanks for those who run companies and those who work for the companies, those who work in the private sector and those in the public sector.

And I invite you to share your own stories of the unique rewards and challenges of the work you do.

Church-y

2011-09-02T22:50:00.000-05:00

Lately, I've been thinking about this thing called "the church", and what it means, and its many forms. Someone recently intimated that I might be a tad or more invested in the survival of this "institution" we call "the church".

Maybe she's right.

I've been a church person since way back. Can't do anything about it. I was kind of geeky about it, just liked going to church, singing the hymns. I even did the "put you hands in the air" thing for a few years.

There was a while when I kind of wished that I had a terrible past, and a dramatic conversion story. Perhaps I was reading too many paperbacks at the time.

Be that as it may, I suppose since I am a pastor, and I do the work of leading a congregation, I can't totally get by with saying I'm not interested in the church as an institution. That would be disingenous.

However, what I am really passionate about, what I really care about (I think) is not so much the church as an institution as the church as a gathering.

You know, "where two or three are gathered...." I really do believe that disciples of Jesus need to gather.

It can be at a high Mass on Sunday morning, or it can be four people in someone's basement on Wednesday evening, practicing Lectio Divina.

Just being with two or three other people and the Word sometimes has the ability to help me see beyond my own self-importance or my own self-negation. Sometimes it's despair I need to find a way out of. Sometimes it's the pride to think I'm always right.

Long ago, I called my blog "faith in community" because I really thought that. It doesn't mean the community has to be so big, or formal. You don't have to sing the songs I like. You don't have to sing at all (although I do like to sing.) It also doesn't mean that I think that community is perfect, or easy, or that there's no fighting, or hurting, misunderstanding or meanness.

Maybe that's the reason we need his promise, "where two or three are gathered, I am in the midst of them." Not just for comfort or for prayer, but for reconciliation.

Where Two or Three are Gathered

2011-09-01T17:36:00.001-05:00

I'm preparing a sermon about this short passage of scripture for this weekend, which means that so far I'm reading and thinking and day-dreaming but haven't put pen to paper -- yet.

I confess a certain fondness for that last verse of the passage, not the whole passage, just the last verse, which says, "Where-ever two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in the midst of them." I am so fond of this passage that I often use it in the beginning of prayers at hospitals and with shut-ins, a reminder of God's promise to hear our prayers, even if there are just two of us.

But that's just one verse, not the whole passage, which I like to wrest conveniently out of its context, a context that includes instructions for dealing with conflict, and promises that seem too exaggerated to possibly be true (If two of you will agree on anything, I will do it: really? Really, Jesus?)

The problem with verse twenty, "where two or three are gathered," is that it's so comforting, so comforting that, by itself, as a verse, it can contribute to a sort of romantic notion of community. Get two people together in a room, praying, and somehow, Jesus is among them. No doubt, that can't be a bad thing.

But for the first time, when I heard that verse read, I asked, "Yes, but to what end? Jesus is among us, but to do what?" To hold our hands, and dry our tears, and hear our prayers?

Or maybe more than that: to hold us together, to send us out, to give us a wider vision when we feel like giving up. Or maybe to bring us back together when we're fighting, to help us learn the truth, to give us power.

This whole passage of scripture, not just verse twenty, is about two: two people fighting and two people reconciling, or not; two people agreeing, and two people (or three) gathering in Jesus' name.

I think what I like about the passage is that it's not about hundreds of people and it's not about one. And we often skew so often one way or the other, thinking that, on the one hand, something is only really worthwhile if thousands of people are doing it (megachurches, the State Fair, huge concerts, big box retailerers), or, on the other hand, that the most powerful, most virtuous position is that of the rugged individualist, pulling himself up by his own bootstraps, standing alone against the mob.

Instead, where two or three are gathered -- could be more but it doesn't have to be -- is the most powerful position. Not alone, but not a mob. The basic unit of discipleship is a relationship.

But, what kind of a relationship is it? What kind of community will we be? What kind of a community do we want to be?

That's the question.

"It's Complicated"

2011-08-31T14:30:00.001-05:00

You ever see this phrase on the "relationship status" of people you know? Rather than "married," "single," or "in a relationship", they have chosen to describe their relationship status as "It's complicated."

It does make you wonder what could possibly be going on in that person's life. There are things they can't talk about. There are things they probably feel like they can't explain to outsiders. So they just say, "It's complicated" and leave it at that.

Sometimes I think, "It's complicated" could sum up my relationship with the church.

I just read a little article by Lillian Daniel about people who are spiritual, but not religious. She seems to sit next to a lot of people like that on airplanes. As a pastor and a life-long church church member, someone who was both raised in the church and intentionally decided to keep belonging to this community, I resonated with her critique. How much easier it is to have deeply spiritual thoughts and never have to sing next to someone whose deeply spiritual thoughts are very much different than yours.

In faith communities, it happens. There are people in my community who are probably relieved that we might have a believer back in the White House in 2012. And others who are pretty sure we have a believer in the White House now. And still others might be tempted to remind us that Martin Luther once said that he'd rather be ruled by a "smart Turk" than by a "stupid Christian."

In my church, though we are all Lutheran, I'd bet we have some pretty firm believers in Christian Universalism, as well as some who would perish the thought. We also have some people who think that the pipe organ alone is God's instrument, as well as others who think a jazz piano, or an electric guitar, or even an accordian would be nice.

So, I resonate with Lillian Daniel, at least at first. I mean, I get tired of the people who think things have to be perfect, and they won't ever be. The music won't be perfect. The preaching won't be perfect. The people won't be perfect.

But then, on the other hand....

I actually know people who won't step inside a church, and not for all of the usual reasons, like, "it interferes with my football games." They won't go any more because they have been deeply wounded by people who claimed to be representatives of Jesus. They won't go because they were abused. They won't go because they were driven out. They won't go because they didn't experience much, or any, of the grace we talk about, and that some of us can't live without. They won't go because they've been at a church that everyone said was so "friendly," and no one talked to them.

Sometimes, it is true about the church, "We have met the enemy, and he is us."

The thing is, if the church isn't perfect, neither am I. And if I am honest with myself, I have to admit that sometimes I have been the one who has said the wrong thing, I have been the one who has sung off-key, I've been the one who didn't welcome the stranger. I've been hurt sometimes by the things people say and do, and I've been the hurt-er too. It's tempting to go someplace where my flaws and vulnerabilities don't stick out so much. Maybe a cave. Or a beach. Or something.

But then, like Peter, I end up saying, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life."

Like I said, "It's complicated."

What I Like About the State Fair

2011-08-27T22:26:00.001-05:00

We seem to go to the State Fair every year, for some reason. This was not the case when I was growing up. We went to the State Fair occasionally, although my dad told us stories that seemed to imply that he was a regular as a child.

But, we seem to go to the State Fair every year, even though it's mostly the same every year: same food, same rides, same layout. Every year I feel a little nostalgic for Machinery Hill, which is not the same as in the old days when my grandpa would go over to kick the tires on all of the John Deere (green) tractors.

We considered not going this year (it gets expensive, crowded, my feet hurt, and I don't really like the midway). But I think we are going to end up there, anyway.

Here's what I like about the State Fair:

1. People watching. Everybody, it seems, is at the fair. They say it is the "Great Minnesota Get-Together", and that's what it is. There are a million stories happening right before my eyes. I love to watch the people, read the T-shirt slogans, listen to the children.
2. Free Stuff. I love getting pencils, booksmarks, free bags and other Educational and Promotional Items. I know, I'm a little nerdy. Buy I like it.
3. Politicians Shake your Hands. I got a great Paul Wellstone T-shirt there many years ago. I still have it, even though it has holes in it. (there are lots of little faces on it, with the slogan "many voices, one message.")
4. Baby Animals, some being born. I love to go to the animal barns, imagine the rural kids who have been living here for ten days, competing in contests, taking care of their animals. I like that new life is happening every day at the fair, the most amazing and ordinary thing.
5. Remembrances of Fairs Past. "Remember the time we were dating and we took the Olde Mill Ride?" "Remember when we were walking down the street and we saw a Llama?" "Remember the year we got caught in the rain and the kids all wore plastic bags to stay dry?"
6. The Old Buildings with their Art Deco Architecture and Design. I love some of the buildings that have been around for years and years: like The Horticulture Building. I don't garden, but the Horticulture Building makes me wish that I did. I leave the fair thinking, "next year I will garden."

The fair is a place of abundance and possibilities. It's a place to buy stuff, eat stuff, get free stuff, talk to strangers, do something new, do the same old thing. It's a place to hold hands, hear music, walk around till your feet fall off, and realize that you are a member of a community. Some of the members of the community wear really weird T-shirts, some of them work at Jehovah Lutheran's diner, some of them are old, and some of them are young. Some of them stop in the FOX News booth, some of them wouldn't miss WCCO. We are many voices, and we have many messages, and lately we sneer at each other's opinions more than is necessary. But we're still one community. At least at the Fair.

You know, in some ways, it's like church. The same every week, the same food, the same place, the same basic layout. Now why that's working so well for the State Fair, and not always for the church: that might be a subject for another post.

What We Offer

2011-08-26T22:17:00.001-05:00

There was a brown bag with handles sitting by the door when I arrived. They wanted to make sure when I left, I would take a few things back to the church with me, things they were sure the church could use.

I came, as I usually do, for conversation and communion. Sometimes I think I could spend all day driving from house to house, praying and talking and sitting in rockers, drinking coffee. I find out about secret joys and griefs, sometimes answer a burning question or two, ask a few myself.

Today before communion, I prayed for our country, for our community, that we would learn to see each other as brothers and sisters and work together, despite our differences. They said "Thank you" for that.

The wife always washes out my communion cups. She did the same today. And before I left, they reminded me about the brown bag with the things they knew the church could really use.

Yarn for our prayer shawls, that's what it was. It was still in the package, too.

So I took it with me. It wasn't heavy at all, no trouble to put it in the car, and no trouble to bring it into the church either.

Except that it wasn't at all the kind of yarn we use for prayer shawls.

In our house, we have an extra microwave. It works, but we don't need it. We were just going to throw it away, but found out that the city would charge us to take it away. Maybe we should give it to the church? I thought. I can understand why people want to give things to the church, cast-offs, used items that aren't useless, but aren't exactly what they used to be. Maybe it's because you don't have room any more, and you are sure that if any place has room, the church does. Maybe it's because you want to think this item of yours is still useful to someone.

In a culture that seems to have less and less use for the Church, and less and less idea about what we are about, perhaps this is who we are: the place you bring your cast offs.

Old tongue depressers, balls of yarn. Wrapping paper, tin cans, pipe cleaners. Cast-offs, used goods. Faded or new.

Bring it to the church. We'll find room. And if we don't, God will.

We Are Here

2011-08-22T20:56:00.001-05:00

I come from a long line of vacation slackers, which means, our family didn't go on vacation much. We only took two road trips of note when I was growing up. My dad had his own business and it was difficult for him to get away. We also didn't have a lot of discretionary funds for elaborate vacations in my family. This seemed to be the case for me when I first got out of college, or even when I first became a pastor.

But I've adjusted to the fact that I am going to go on vacation, not just because I was told that pastors need to get away, but also because my husband really likes to go new places, and we both like to go back to old places too.

And, humbly I admit: I need to get away. I need to get away more than I am willing to admit, even. I need to get away and I feel a little guilty about it at the same time.

So yesterday, after church, we packed up the dog and the car and the laptop computers (and a new ipad: a birthday present for my husband) and drove up to the North Shore of Lake Superior. We had been warned about highway construction, but didn't experience too much delay on a Sunday afternoon (although there was a pretty long line of cars going the other direction). We got in early in the evening and settled in right away, me reading and knitting, my husband playing with his new toy.

This morning we got up and started on the road to Grand Marais. We made the obligatory stop at Betty's Pies (where we left Scout yodeling in the car for a little while), and then drove the rest of the way up without stopping.

It's one of my favorite places on the North Shore, this little town where the temperature rarely gets above 72 degrees, where there are artists and a bookstore, a famous donut shop, a Ben Franklin store crammed with everything you might need for wilderness hiking,canoeing or camping. It's right there on the lake, the greatest lake, where there are sailboats and hydroplanes and people walking their dogs.

Scout made some new friends, and I mean that sincerely. I think she believes that letting people pet her is one of her jobs. (although every once in awhile, she will become inexplicably shy.) She let lots of people pet her, particularly children. She got to go into a variety/antique/etc store, although most of the time she stands outside with one of us while the other one of us visits the store. She gets some of her best compliments (and pets) when she waits vigilantly outside a store waiting for one or the other of us to come out.

One of the reasons we drove up to Grand Marais was to eat at one of our favorite restaurants, the Angry Trout. We love the local, organic, healthy food, and the fact that Scout is welcome at the outdoor tables. Today I had the most wonderful salad with a little bit of trout; my husband had trout chowder and a burger.

Scout sniffed over to the table behind us where an older woman was eating alone. I apologized, but she said she was a great admirer of dogs, and we proceeded to have an extended conversation. She was a retired English teacher. I confessed that I was an English major, but had become a pastor. She said that ministry was her second love; she had just finished writing a Bible study on 1st and 2nd Samuel.

Scout brought us together.

She also introduced us to a young couple with a little girl, who all came up to us at the Angry Trout and asked permission to pet her. She happily obliged; the little girl even put her arms around her.

Scout also got introduced to a woman who said she practiced "healing touch" for dogs. The woman placed her hands right about Scout's head and made some movements until: what do you know? Scout laid right down.

So, all in all, it was a good day. We had to leave Grand Marais, which always made me sad. But we are still here, on the North Shore, for a little while, anyway.

The dog is lying on the floor. We are reading, and I am knitting a little. The lake is just outside, reminding me that there are so many things larger, and deeper and more wonderful than I am.

Only one of the reasons that I go on vacation.

Lectio Divina

2011-08-19T22:01:00.000-05:00

Thursday morning, I drove over to a neighboring parish to participate in Lectio Divina for the first time.

I don't know why I haven't done it before. In the back of my mind, I knew that the pastor hosted a Lectio group for a few years. And for at least a few years, I've wanted to learn more about divine reading.

I've collected information. I've ordered books. I've talked to people about it. I've imagined it. I had a teacher from the Benedictine Center in St. Paul come to do adult forums twice at my church. But I was never able to attend them, because we have a worship service at the same time. I also get all of the update from St. Paul's Monastery and dream about doing a retreat or a class.

But until Thursday, I've never participated in Lectio Divina.

There were just six of us, sitting in a circle, with a lit candle, the gospel of Matthew, and a set of chimes. We prayed. We read and listened for what emerged for each of us, each saying a few words. We read again and listened with imagination. We read a third time for prayer. There wa also twenty minute of Centering Prayer, another thing I have never participated in before.

I won't say that the silence was always easy, or that I never felt my mind wander. I became acutely aware, in the silence, of how I am always racing ahead, always making lists in my mind, always thinking about what I should do next, who I should call next, trying to solve problems in my mind.

We read Matthew 16, Peter's confession, and I heard the phrase "book-learning" and the words "Flesh and blood did not reveal this to you." I imagined the dusty road where Jesus turned to his disciples and asked, "But who do you say that I am?" and thought I heard in his voice the vulnerability of someone who was not sure what the answer would be. I felt the hardness of Rock, and the keys of the kingdom, the keys that open the door to wide mercy and love and grace. I heard other prayers and other insights in small phrases that washed over me.

For a moment, I thought I ought to preach on the gospel instead of Romans 12 (my plan), and then I thought again.

Every time I read scripture, it does not need to be in preparation for a sermon.

It's good to carve out a space to hear God, to listen for God's voice, without so many pre-conceived ideas about what God will say. It's good to remember that my life is not just about the lists I make, the things I do, or try to do, the problems I solve, or try to solve, or fail to solve.

On Thursday, I felt the keys to the kingdom when I entered the circle and and just listened and heard a story from Matthew's gospel.

I'll go again.

Reading the Bible in 90 Days, Day 76: John 6 through 15

2011-08-15T14:59:00.001-05:00

Yes, I've been in the New Testament for about a week now. It's been a whirlwind tour of the gospels, and today is no exception.

This is familiar territory for many of us, and these chapters contain many stories and famous sayings. There are the mountaintop stories: the feeding of the 5,000 in John 6, the healing in the man born blind in John 9, the raising of Lazarus in John 11, the footwashing and new commandment in John 13. There are also so many images -- Jesus as the Bread of Life, Jesus as the Good Shepherd, Jesus as the Vine, Jesus as the Light of the World.

It occurs to me that 90% of my funeral sermon material comes from John. This can't be an accident.

In the other gospels, Jesus is a healer who teaches. In John, Jesus is a teacher who sometimes heals. It feels like every healing in John has a Point, is a sort of Object Lesson, not simply to relieve suffering, but to illustrate a great truth. And every healing in John is also like a huge spot light, or a strobe light.

One verse stuck out for me in "the Message"; among all the "familiar quotations" in John, I heard it a little differently this time:

Judas (not Iscariot) said, "Master, why is it that you are about to make yourself plain to us but not the world?"
"Because a loveless world," said Jesus, "is a sightless world. If anyone loves me he will carefully keep my word and my Father will love him -- we'll move right into the neighborhood." (John 14:22-23.)

A loveless world is a sightless world.

Still true today. To see Jesus is to learn to love the world that he loves, in all its pain and waywardness.

Sunday Sermon: X-Treme Discipleship

2011-08-06T18:56:00.000-05:00

Matthew 14:22-33

Recently my family got together for dinner.
That evening my brother told us of a plan of his. He’s going to take some time off, a little vacation time, and see some places he’s never seen before.
And while he’s at it, he’s going to do something he’s never done before as well: he’s going to go sky-diving.
Yes, he’s going to jump out of a plane into thin air with a parachute on, pull the cord, and float to the ground. We asked him “why?”
Turns out we never knew this – but it’s something my brother has always been kind of interested in. Who knew?
My brother, the one who won’t go up in roller-coasters at the amusement park – wants to jump out of an airplane.

I have to say that in my life, I have not considered myself to be a big risk-taker –
the exception being the time I packed up many of my belongings and flew to Japan to spend three years or so –
something NO One in my family could understand – any more than they can figure out why my brother wants to sky dive.
I don’t hang-glide either, or skate board.
So my husband and I told him to tell us when he was jumping so that we could pray for him.
My mother, on the other hand, had a totally different reaction.
She said, “Don’t tell me when you are jumping. Tell me when you’re done.”

I can’t help comparing in my imagination the thought of my brother, stepping out of a plane into thin air, and Peter, stepping out of a boat into stormy water – well, any kind of water, actually.
They are both “dare-devil” kinds of actions – both defying the laws of nature – although at least my brother will have a parachute.
If you think about it, what Peter did could be called a kind of “X-treme” sport.
At least, it is “X-treme Discipleship”, don’t you think? Sky-diving. Hang-gliding.
Walking on water. The stakes are high.

The stakes are high.
I really want to emphasize this. This is very scary.
And the mood is set right away in the beginning of the story.
The disciples are out in their boat in the middle of the night, when the wind and the waves come up.
It’s a spooky time of night, the dark dark time just very dawn, and their boat is being battered by the waves.
Then this spooky figure comes along, walking on the water, which doesn’t calm them down – just makes them more anxious.
This is the scene into which we get Peter, calling out to Jesus, “Lord, if it’s you, call me to come to you!” Get that?
Lord, if it’s you... it’s dark, they can hardly see, it’s stormy.... how does he even know it’s Jesus? Except who else would it be???

“X-treme Discipleship” – Peter, without doing any special training, jumps out of the boat and starts walking on water – for a little while anyway.
It’s hard to tell how long he was afloat – a few seconds, a minute, two minutes tops, but it’s pretty clear that his experiment did not last long.
Two minutes of success – then utter, abject failure.
Two minutes of success, and then he’s flailing around, in over his head, going down for the third time. Two minutes of success, and then it’s “Lord, save me!”

Have you ever felt like that? In over your head? How did I get into this mess?
What am I doing here? What was my big mistake? Have you ever felt like that in your life? X-treme discipleship
it’s sort of like watching the Olympic skaters or gymnasts, and the young woman is going for a most difficult jump – and right in front of the judges and everything – she falls, and not very gracefully.
It’s the first big mistake you make in your new job, it’s becoming a parents and thinking – do I really know what to do next?
I’m in over my head.
Or it’s when a church begins a new project or program, outreach into our community, and suddenly we think, we’re in over our head. There are waves out there! There are storms out there.This is harder than we thought.

If only we had kept our eyes on Jesus.
If only Peter had kept his eyes on Jesus. Right? He would be looking at Jesus and just keep walking, instead of looking at the waves and fallen.
Keeping your eyes on Jesus – that’s the key.
As one well-known author put it, “If you want to walk on water, you have to get out of the boat!”
There will be always be storms in life. There will always circumstances that are unfavorable. But the idea is to step out in faith.
Jesus is calling to us to take a risk, to get out of the water, to do the things that make us afraid.

I have to say, I think I get this. I am by no means a person who is comfortable with risk or with fear.
And I do think that the church is also called to take risks as we follow Jesus.
Loving people is a big risk.
Sharing God’s love is a big risk.
Trusting God is a big risk – for us in our individual lives as Christians – and as a congregation.

However -- not everyone is agreed about what Peter's biggest failure really was.
As you suspect, there are those who consider his biggest mistake was taking his eyes off Jesus.
Peter would still be walking on water, even today, if he hadn’t looked down at those waves.
But other people notice something else about this story.
Just whose idea was it, anyway, to walk on water?
Not something that Jesus suggested to Peter – but something that Peter suggested to Jesus.
It’s as if Peter prayed, “God, I think it would be really cool to walk on water. Can I?”
And Jesus says, “Go ahead, be my guest.” But actually, Peter should have stayed in the boat and left the “walking on water” to Jesus.
Peter should have stayed in the boat, which was headed over to the other side of the lake, to minister to people, to share God’s love, to heal people, to feed people.
Rather than engaging in some sort of death-defying feats, rather than engaging in X-Treme discipleship, Peter should have concentrated on the nitty-gritty of being God’s person in the world, doing the the important things that never get in the newspaper.

What do you think?
What was Peter’s big mistake?
Where we come down might say more about us, than it does about God.

Because, in the end, this story is not so much about Peter’s failure – whatever it might be – as it is about God’s faithfulness.
Whether we fail to keep our eyes on Jesus, whether we fail to take a risk, whether we make a mistake and take the wrong risk, failure is the human condition.
Sometimes we fail to get out of the boat. Sometimes we hear God wrong and end up praying, “Lord save me!” because we have gotten in over our heads, made the wrong decision.

When we follow God, even when we are on the right track, even when jumping out of the plane is the exactly right thing to do
– even then –
we don’t do everything perfectly and we need to be picked up, set right, again and again.

What is constant in this story is the promise the runs through all of Matthew’s gospel
– the promise that “I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”
What is constant is the hand of Jesus, reaching down to Peter.
What is constant is the voice of Jesus, calling to us, “Fear not, it is I!”
What is constant is the presence of Jesus – in our successes, and in our failures, when we walk on water, when we fall.
What is constant is the body of Jesus, given for you.

We will never hear him perfectly, in this time in our congregation that we are discerning God’s mission for our future.
We will never hear him perfectly, and we will never follow him perfectly – but our failures are not the last word.
Our failures are not the last word. The last word – is the touch of his strong hand.
The last word is the sound of his voice on the waves "It is I."
The last word is his eternal love.

Go ahead, jump.

AMEN

Out of the Mouths of Babes

2011-08-05T22:27:00.001-05:00

So, I've been helping out with Vacation Bible School (Pre-school edition) this week. I have peeked in on the song time, but mostly, I tell the story every day.

First, let me say that I am happy that I am not the leader of the Pre-school Vacation Bible School. I admire our Children's Ministry Coordinator, who is so flexible and patient and yet firm with children, some of whom have not had much experience with any kind of school environment yet.

It's sort of organized chaos.

But it's great! and it's fun to watch them learn the songs, and the stories and warm up to each other, too. Wednesday, they learned the story of Jonah and Thursday we learned a story about Jesus. Jonah and Jesus both start with the letter, "J", you know.

When I mentioned Jesus, they told me that they liked Jesus.

Today, on the last day, a grandma who has been helping with the program whispered in my ear.

She brings her granddaughters to Vacation Bible School. She's been bringing them for a few years now. The oldest one is not a pre-schooler any more. The two younger girls were in the class though. They don't go to our church, but they're active participants in a Catholic Parish.

So, she told me that her oldest grand-daughter informed her recently that she wants to be a priest when she grows up. I said, "hmmm."

Sometime during the week, she let her grand-daughters know that I was their minister.

One of them replied, "When I grow up, I want to be a Lutheran."

Who knows? Maybe she will be a Lutheran. Or maybe she'll be one of the leaders who will change her own church.

You never know what will come out of Pre-School Vacation Bible School.

What I Saw Today

2011-07-31T13:31:00.000-05:00

It's Sunday, and I went to church. I know, it's summer, and why would you go to church in the summer? There's no Sunday school, and no choir, and there are plenty of other things to do. At least, that seems to be what several people think. But I AM the pastor, and I was presiding, so I went to church today.

Here's what I saw there:

I saw a smile on the face of a woman who told me that she wanted to give thanks for three years being cancer free. I saw tears on the face of a woman who wanted me to pray for the family of a friend of hers who died last week. I saw a teenager walk into the sanctuary by herself, sit down by herself, and then move to sit down next to her mother's best friend, and her friend's mother. I saw a three year old boy run up to the front of the church to get a small loaf of bread, and then run back to his mother and father -- and then run up to the front of the church again. I saw an older woman give our contemporary pianist a hug. I saw him smile.

I saw a plastic bag of weeds next to the wooden church that holds prayer concerns. The note with the weeds said, "These reminded me of the weeds that look like wheat, that we are not supposed to pull."

I saw little kids handing out small loaves of bread to people in the congregation. And then we began to sing, "Jesus lives again, earth can breathe again, Pass the word around, Loaves abound!"

I saw the face of a four year old girl when I said the words, "The body of Christ, given for you." I saw a couple hug one another while singing the hymn of the day, "Lord Whose Love in Humble Service."

I saw a woman in a wheelchair come up for the prayers and anointing after the service. When I asked her what she wanted me to pray for, she said, "Pray for the church."

I do. I pray for the church, the people of God, the ones who came and sang and prayed and cried and laughed with us today. I pray for the ones who were not here, for whatever reason, whether they are travelling or whether they are busy or whether they just can't figure out a reason to be here with us.

We miss you.

Jeremiah and Company

2011-07-29T17:36:00.000-05:00

As many of you know, I've been "Reading the Bible in 90 Days" this summer. For the most part, I've managed to read a portion of the Bible every day (ok, I confess, I've gotten beyond once or twice). But for the past several days, I've been reading the prophets, and lately, I've been spending time with that cheery guy, Jeremiah.

In my head, I know about Jeremiah. I know that he preaches almost unremitting (and truthful) warnings to the people of Judah, to the point that he was regarded as a traitor by many. But the snippets I mostly hear in church from Jeremiah, are the few haunting, hopeful passages, like this one from Jeremiah 31: "No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, 'know the Lord,' for they shall all known me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity and remember their sin no more."

That's what I know and remember from Jeremiah: the comfort, the forgiveness, the new covenant. But actually, most of Jeremiah is filled with God's anger at Israel's idolatry and selfishness. The two things I hear over and over and over are about the faithlessness of the people, how prone to wander and to serve other gods, and the lack of care for the poor, the widow and the orphan, the stranger.

Jeremiah and the prophets have never seemed more contemporary to me.

"Everybody does whatever they want." "Nobody pays any attention to God. and nobody pays attention to the poor."

I have never heard God angrier than in these passage. Joel Osteen is WRONG -- sometimes, God IS mad at us.

God is mad at us when we engage in class and race warfare, stereotyping whole groups of people when it's convenient. "Some of those people really aren't poor," they say. "The Bible says that no one should eat unless he's willing to work," they say.

(what is interesting to learn is that this particular verse probably referred to the 'idle rich' who didn't need to work.)

You know what I find incredible, though?

There are places in Jeremiah when God re-affirms God's love for Israel. "I have loved you with an everlasting love," he says.

I'll be in the prophets for awhile yet. It's not a comfortable place to be.

But, before I go, I leave you with a few thoughts:

I find there are not so many prophets around lately. Maybe there are, but no one is listening to them.

But there are plenty of false prophets.

They are all the people who say that you never have to change.
They are all the people who tell us exactly what we want to hear, what makes us comfortable.
They're the people who tell us, "you don't consume too much, you're not wrecking the environment, there aren't that many poor people, not really."

What does God say?
Repent.
And, "I have loved you with an everlasting love."

Sunday Sermon: The Right Words

2011-07-23T13:36:00.000-05:00

Based on Romans 8:26-39

An old, old story:
It is the night of Passover. A peasant is rushing to finish his work in the fields so that he can attend the holy service. But, alas, the sun drops and it is darkness when no travel is permitted.
The next day the rabbi spots him and asks him where he’s been. “Oh, Rabbi, it was terrible – I was stuck in my fields after dark and had to spend the night there.”
“Well, says the rabbi, “I suppose you at least recited your prayers.”
“That’s the worst of it, Rabbi, I couldn’t remember a single prayer. “Then how did you spend the holy evening?” says the rabbi. “What did you do?”

What do you do?”
That’s the question. What do you do? When you can’t find the right words.... it’s not as easy as it appears.... finding the right words, at the right time.
And sometimes, words disappear at just the moment you need them most.
Perhaps it’s a time of stress or grief.
Just when you are trying to write a card to your friend who was just diagnosed with cancer, you can’t remember or think of a single thing to write that doesn’t sound cheap.
Or perhaps you are standing in front of a family who has just lost a child, and you open your mouth and nothing comes out.
Or perhaps you are trying to express your own pain when darkness or fear descends. The right words, or any words, just won’t come out.
Perhaps at a time of deep joy, as you stand face to face in front of someone who has promised to be with you “in sickness and in health, for richer/for poorer”
or when you have witnessed unexpected abundance, and instead of words there is a lump in your throat.
Perhaps you are one who would really like to get up at a funeral and “say a few words” about your mother or your great-aunt, or your cousin, and you know you just couldn’t.
And you envy those who can.

It’s the same thing with prayer, isn’t it?
I know some people who pray easily, and others who can’t seem to get the words out,
some people who seem to know exactly what to say to God in every situation, and some people who have no idea what might be ‘the right words’.
In front of God they are tongue-tied and mute, like the peasant standing in his fields after dark, unable to say the right words. Or any words.

Paul says that this is actually our natural state before God. We are all actually more like that peasant than we care to admit.
“We do not know how to pray as we ought....” not some of us, not those who are shy, not those who don’t know God, just “we” – “we do not know how to pray as we ought....”.
We don’t know how to pray, and we don’t know what to pray. Not really. Even those of us who are most eloquent when we pray, who always seem to know what to tell God, do not know how to pray as we ought.
And others of us are just honest enough to say – we really don’t know what to pray for.

When your child is ill, when a friends’ marriage is coming apart, when terrorists invade, what do you pray for?
Peace? Revenge? Healing? Comfort?
A new start? Or do you just open your mouth and no words will come out, because we really don’t know how to pray, or what to pray for.
We just know that it’s dark, and we feel alone, and every word seems like a foreign language.

And what does it matter, anyway? Prayer is such an odd activity, speaking to a hidden God.
You know, there are people who don’t pray at all. Not even at meal time.
I remember visiting a couple once, from my church.
And they invited me to pray before our dinner, because, they said. They really don’t.
They really wouldn’t know what to say.
So they don’t.
And why is it so important, anyway?
Isn’t it more important how we live our lives, what we do, how we serve?

Except for two things. If Romans 8 is correct – prayer is at the heart of the gospel, the heart of our relationship with God, the God who longs to be connected with us, who promises us that nothing can separate us from his love.
Prayer is not extra-curricular activity, it is at the heart of the promise of the God to be with us in everything, to be out in the fields after dark, to be standing with us, walking with us in our moments of deep joy, in our times of deep suffering, at all the times when the right words will not come out.
Prayer is God’s promise to hear us, to be with us, to walk with us, to make the words come out right, even when everything is going so wrong.
Prayer is God’s promise to be in the struggle with us, with the marriage that’s going south, with the chronic illness, the grief you feel, the daily joys, the daily sorrows.
Nothing can separate us from God’s love.

Prayer is not extra-curricular activity – and it’s not just prayer that we’re not good at. We also do not know how to live as we ought, not really.
We’re stumbling all the time, you and me, and our lives are sometimes as jumbled and tongue-tied as our prayers.
So, what do you do? What do you do?

What did you do?
The rabbi asked the peasant long ago.
Oh, the peasant said, “I could only recite the alphabet and pray that God would re-arrange the letters.”

“the spirit intercedes for us....” The Spirit takes our jumbled and tongue-tied words, and somehow makes a prayer out of them.
The Spirit takes our tongue-tied lives and somehow makes an offering out of them.
That is what it means to intercede.
To intercede is to give a voice to someone who has no voice, to make a bridge to bring people together who were separate, to make communication possible.
Child advocates speak up for children who are vulnerable, making sure their interests are represented, since they have no vote.
Others advocate for the poor and the homeless, for those who are weak, for those who are abused.

When we pray here in church for our neighbors, we always remember those who are not able to pray themselves, those who are speechless for whatever reasons, sickness or despair, poverty or weakness or ignorance.

We want to give voice to their concerns, to connect them somehow to God who cares for them.

So the Spirit stands with us in our prayers, and in our lives, interceding for us, interpreting our cries, our groans, our laughter, our tears.
So the Spirit stands with us in our lives, as well, in our service, in our struggles, in our confusion, doubt, fear. We’re not alone in life.
God is in it with us.

When you open your mouth to talk to God, about your life, about your family, about your marriage, about the world, and you don’t know what to say; Take courage. You’re not alone.
God is in it with you.
Nothing can separate you from the love of God, not your worry for your children or grandchildren, not your failures or successes at work or at home, not your grieving or your weakness.
Your life might be as jumbled and confusing as your prayers, but God is in it with you.
You’re not alone.
God is in it with you.

Not to make everything perfect, not to fix every mistake, not to make sure your life flows smoothly all the time.

But to get you through. To work through all things. To make your life a prayer, somehow.
God is in it with you.

After all, that is the point.
The point is: nothing can separate us from the love of God.
Not life or death or grief.
Not dangers, toils or snares.
Not groans or sighs.
Whether you are out in the field and the darkness is descending, or out in the world struggling to make sense of your life: you are not alone.
The Spirit intercedes for you.

When the right words won’t come....
The right word is given.
When our sentences trail off, the right word is given to us.
When there is a lump in our throats, the right word rises up.

And the Word became flesh and dwelled among us.
Full of grace and truth.
Forever.
AMEN

Stewardship and Me

2011-07-21T21:41:00.000-05:00

I've spent most of the past week at a conference, "Rethinking Stewardship Practices." I wanted to go to this workshop partly because I want to be more comfortable about doing stewardship in my own congregation. But I also went to the workshop because (I'll confess), stewardship and I have a sort of checkered relationship. This may be a bad thing for a pastor to confess, but it's true.

I started off very seriously and earnestly, as a young adult, just out of college. I was a pretty serious Christian back then; I went to church on Sunday and to various prayer meetings. And I had really gotten the message about tithing. I did tithe net, not gross, as I looked at my paycheck and just took ten percent of that every two weeks. That's what I did.

My life was simple, though. I did not own a car. I had a modest student loan. I bought a sofa bed from a department store and made payments on it until my federal tax refund came back and I could pay it off. I did not have a major credit card.

When I first got to Japan to begin my missionary work, I was paid in dollars, and I did send a tithe back to my home church during those first six months. I was very embarrassed to hear that someone from our congregation actually got up and used me as an example during their annual stewardship drive.

Things got more complicated when we started getting paid in yen. We were cautioned that we shouldn't be too generous with our Japanese congregations, so that they would not get dependent on our offerings. So, I didn't give very much. And, to be honest, there were many beautiful things I was tempted to buy while I lived in Japan. I gave in to temptation many times. I came home with a LOT more than I left with. a LOT more.

When I returned to the U.S., a lot of things happened, too complicated to go into here. But I bought a car, which I probably couldn't afford on my salary. I got an apartment (eventually). I got a major credit card. Life became more complicated. My tithing habits had been long gone by then. I found it very difficult to look at my check and just do the 10 percent math. It seems like the rent, the insurance, the car payment, the credit card, and groceries (and oh yes, those unanticipated car repairs) took almost everything I made. (I was not making a large salary.)

I had gotten my finances in order by the time I went to seminary, but afterwards, the high cost of my seminary loans was a wake up call. Getting used to the discipline of putting something away for quarterly tax payments was a learning curve too.

As I said, stewardship and I have had a checkered history. And even though I'm talking about giving to my church right now, I realize that my financial responsibility to my congregation is really only a small part of how I steward the whole life God has given me. It's the work I do, how I use my time, the way I treat people. It has to do with credit cards, and student loans, but it also to do wtih making time for conversation and prayer and making meals from scratch.

As I said, stewardship and I have had a checkered history. I am generous and I am stingy, sometimes frugal and sometimes wasteful.

A friend recently reminded me that stewardship really means, "our lives are not our own."

Which, I think is good news, when I consider the alternatives....

Reading the Bible in 90 Days, day 48: Ecclesiastes and Song of Songs

2011-07-18T20:56:00.000-05:00

Let me tell you, it's interesting to read Ecclesiastes and Song of Songs on the same day.

You have the world-weary cynicism of "the preacher" and the breathless romanticism of the lovers. "The Preacher" wants to let us know that he has seen everything and that there is nothing new under the sun. He has seen the innocent suffer and the guilty get off scot-free. He's worked hard and seen his efforts come to nothing.

The lovers, on the other hand, are almost embarrassingly optimistic. They long for one another. They are uncensored in their appreciation for one another's bodies. They have a reason for living: one another.

The two books, right alongside each other, couldn't be more different.

And yet, there is something that connects them.

Both of these small volumes concern themselves more with daily living than they do with salvation and eternal things. The author of Ecclesiastes, the "preacher" says that since we don't have that much control about how our lives turn out anyway, it is good to eat and drink and be merry, to live fully each day.

I think that the lovers of Song of Songs would agree.

And now a word of caution: Tomorrow we enter the prophets.

Reading the Bible in 90 Days, Day 43: Psalm 89 - Psalm 108

2011-07-13T20:15:00.000-05:00

I've been spending a few days with the Psalms now, and it occurs to me, when you read a whole bunch of Psalms at one time (something I don't do very often), that they seem, um, sort of -- Manic/depressive. One minute, it's "God, don't turn your back on me; this is my cry for help" (from Psalm 102), and the next: "Oh my soul, bless God! don't forget a single blessing." (from Psalm 103)

From the height of praise to the depths of lament, the Psalms have a song for it. There's are psalms that make you blush for the hatred of enemies expressed and psalms that make you ache for the desperation of one hanging by a thread, and psalms that make you want to sing because of the goodness of God, who rescues us just in the nick of time. The Psalmists do not censor their prayers. They are honest. Perhaps that's why I love the Psalms, even when I don't like them.

As high as heaven is over the earth
so strong is his love to those who fear him.
And as far as sunrsie is from sunset,
he has separated us from our sins... (Psalm 103)

Tomorrow: Read Psalms 109 - 134.
and Friday: Psalm 135 - Proverbs 6

And if you are interested in knowing more about the Psalms, I recommend Psalms for Sojourners, by James Limburg, which is a great overview.
Or, read Eugene Peterson's book A Long Obedience In the Same Direction, which specifically refers to the Psalms of Ascent (Psalm 120-134)

Far Away From Everywhere

2011-07-07T21:41:00.000-05:00

On Tuesday we drove from Albuquerque to Mesa Verde National Park, with a stop at Aztec National Monument and a late lunch in Durango. We spent a short time walking up Durango's Historic Main Street, peeking into a few of the shops, including a terrific Art and Antique Shop, featuring lots of local artists.

We arrived at Far View Lodge just in time for an impressive thunderstorm.

Our room is simple but nicely appointed. There is really a "far view" -- every room has a panoramic view of some of the mesas, and a little balcony where you can sit and have a glass of wine, if you like. There is a clock radio, but no television, no internet, and very little cell phone coverage, as far as we can discern.

I think that's a good thing.

There is free internet in the lodge, so you can connect up if you really can't stand being unconnected.

One Wednesday we got up early and got some good advice on where we could go "on our own." We ended up at Spruce Tree House, so early that we were just about the only people there. A little later we joined a small group for a ranger-led tour of Long House at the Weatherill Mesa. If Mesa Verde is a little off the beaten path, Weatherill Mesa is even more so, down many winding roads with no signs that say "keep going! you are almost there!."

It was worth it, in the end.

Today we took an all-morning tour called the "700 Year Tour", because it takes you along 700 years of Puebloan Indian History, culminating in a tour of the most famous and spectacular Cliff Palace.

Both yesterday and today, we found ourselves doing trails and climbs we had thought we couldn't do. I guess we both have more courage than we think, in a pinch.

But after this morning, I lost an entire afternoon trying to get rid of a persistent headache. Even had one of the National Park medics up to see me. We didn't figure out exactly what hit me, but verified that it was not hydration related (though I found out you can actually drink too much water; he had a word for that which I don't remember.)

I can't help thinking about water, when I'm here. The thunderstorm, the droughts they experienced those hundreds of years ago, the drought they are experiencing now.

Down at the most basic level of human life, there is water. And there, at the most basic level of human life and need, there God meets us most of all.

On the Road Again

2011-07-05T08:53:00.001-05:00

After a brief stop in Albuquerque where I met friend and blogger Paul and had yummy appetizers, we are back on the road again, headed out to Mesa Verde, somewhere I have heard about for many years, but never seen.

Last night we also had a dinner (which I for one didn't really need) at the Church Street Cafe in Old Town. We walked around the town (most places were closed, but a few were still open), and found a little shop that featured artists from New Mexico, especially as they painted religious folk themes. I was captivated by a little display for Vicente Telles, and had to buy a tiny piece of art by him, called Mater Dolorosa.

As we exited, the shopkeeper called out, "thanks for supporting local artists!"

Yes.

We watched fireworks from our hotel room.

Got up early to eat a little breakfast in the downstairs cafe, and listen to the latest on the Casey Anthony trial.

Now we will be traveling scenic routes all day, cameras and journals in hand, until we get to our scenic destination.

My hope during the next few days: that I will see the beauty in the local artistry, that I will support local artists, and that I will find freedom to be one.

A Week's Worth of Readings

2011-07-04T08:45:00.001-05:00

I am on vacation and will be out of internet range for most of the week. Here are the Bible readings for those of you who are reading along:

Monday, Day 34 --2 Chronicles 36- Ezra 10
Day 35 -- Nehemiah 1 - Nehemiah 13
Day 36 -- Nehemiah 14 - Job 7
Day 37 -- Job 8 - Job 24
Day 38 -- Job 25 - 41
Day 39 -- Job 42 - Psalm 24
Day 40 -- Psalm 25 - 45
Day 41 -- Psam 46 - 69
Day 42 -- Psalm 70 - 89

Have fun -- especially with the Psalms.

I will try to keep notes and share observations when I return.

Reading the Bible in 90 Days, Day 32: 2 Chronicles 8 - 23

2011-07-02T08:39:00.001-05:00

The Kingdom is divided now. The author of Chronicles (at this point) spends more time with the Kings of Judah (mostly pretty good, with some flaws) than with the kings of Israel (mostly bad). There is no mention of Solomon going after other gods at the end of his life. Rehoboam (Solomon's son) follows really bad advice in deciding to be a harsh king, and the northern kingdom rebels. Even though the author considers this an understandable reaction of Rehoboam's cruelty, the fact remains -- Israel turns apostate. They cut themselves off. They follow other gods.

The harshness of their king is partly responsible.

Mercy and compassion are not two words we think of associated with leaders.

But Yahweh is looking for leaders who do care about the welfare of the people they serve.

Tomorrow's reading: 2 Chronicles 24 - 35
Monday's reading: 2 Chronicles 36 - Ezra 10

Note: I will be off line for most of next week. I'll post the week's reading tomorrow, and try to keep notes throughout the week...

Perhaps that's why he sometimes calls them "shepherds."

An Interesting Way to Spend a Vacation

2011-07-01T21:16:00.000-05:00

So I have just about two weeks off now. I'm on vacation. But we haven't gone anywhere .... yet.

That's right, we're right here in town. We're leaving town on Monday.

99.9% of the time, when we go on vacation, we go somewhere else. Though our family did not travel much on vacation, I was told in seminary that it's important for pastors too get away when they get time off, so I've pretty much done that.

But, so much doesn't get done. During the last year, there have been a few times when my hours have not been pretty. So I thought it might be fun to get a longer time away, but not actually go anywhere for part of it. Just try to get some things done.

So, that's what we've been doing. Especially yesterday, when my mom came over and helped us wash the venetian blinds, re-organize the pantry, and clean out the refrigerator (which has been dripping water again, so we took all of the food out and turned it off.)

My mom is the most organized person I know. I may have mentioned that when I lived in Japan, I always got my Christmas presents from home well before Christmas. (This was not uniformly the case.) She is also the best ever at packing a little car so that all the things you need to bring home from internship will fit into it. (I still remember our checklist for weekend camping trips.) We took her out to eat as well, which was fun.

We ran into members of my church there. I said "hello." As they left, they waved and said they liked this restaurant "because of the pop-overs." I remembered that I had seen another member of my church the day before at our local Large-Chain Bookstore. I just said "hello" again, but a few minutes later, the woman came running back to tell me how much she had enjoyed the service on Sunday. That was nice. (Especially that she liked the whole service -- not just the sermon.)

I understand why they say pastors should "get away" on vacation. This is not a small town. But I still run into people.

So, today we decided to "get out of Dodge," so to speak. It was waaaay to hot to work outside, which had been our original plan. We decided to go to a larger medium-sized town where there are some cute little shops and restaurants. (More about that later, perhaps.)

But, before we left, we went swimming. Where I bumped into someone from my church.

Really. This is NOT a small town.

A Fun and Productive first Day of Vacation (mostly)

2011-06-29T21:56:00.000-05:00

My vacation officially kicked off at 6:30 last night as we were invited to be a part of a cruise on the St. Croix River. It was all a part of a friend's celebration of the 25th anniversary of her ordination. So her congregation sponsored a dinner cruise for her and her family, as well as some of the members of her congregation. They had a great dinner, a fun program honoring her (my husband wrote a song in her honor) and a three-piece dixieland jazz band. My husband and I liked them so much, we started calling out the songs we wanted them to play (It Don't Mean a Thing, St. Louis Blues, Washington Square). Then toward the end of the cruise they came over and serenaded us.

I finished up a pair of bright blue cabled footies as a little present for my friend. I actually put the finishing touches on the toe while we were driving out to the party.

This morning my husband made breakfast. I started knitting a washcloth using a cotton blend yarn. (I am avoiding the sweater.)

I got a pedicure for the first time in a long time, and then bought a new pair of sandals (aren't they pretty?)

I made a mistake in the washcloth and ended up ripping up the whole thing and starting over.

I finally got some financial work done, and paid some bills.

We took the car in (one of the tires has been deflating) and found out there was a screw embedded in it.

We walked up to the grocery store to buy coffee and sandwiches. The ice cream truck was there and they were offering free ice cream sandwiches.

We bought a new coffee pot. (That is exciting!) I returned some defective merchandise, and got a new item. I drooled over ipads some, and asked questions about them.

My husband got a massage.

And when we returned home, we discovered a charming movie was on, one that we had never seen before: "I Know Where I'm Going." Wonderful, enchanting movie about a young woman who has her whole life planned out, and is going to marry a rich man in Scotland. Except that this storm is getting in the way....

Reading the Bible in 90 Days, Day 29: 1 Chronicles 1 - 9

2011-06-29T21:35:00.000-05:00

If you blink, you'll miss the prayer of Jabez, snuck into the middle of what is mostly lists of geneologies. Yes, that famous prayer to increase his territory, it's just two verses in 1 Chronicles 4:9-10.
"Jabez was a better man than his brothers, a man of honor. is mother had named him Jabez (Oh, the pain!), saying, "A painful birth! I bore him in great pain!" Jabez prayer to the God of Israel. "Bless me, O bless me. Give me land, large tracts of land. And provide your personal protection -- don't let evil hurt me." God gave him what he asked."

So, there you go. The prosperity gospel in a nutshell.

Other than that, these chapters are mostly filled up with names: mostly who was in who's family, as well as David's worship leaders and the priestly cities.

Though they are seldom named, it occurs to me: where would we be without the mothers? For this list is not so much about the exploits of the people of Israel, but who was born to whom.

Also, though this is called "The Chronicles", it occurs to me that the chronology is very different. In chapter 9 the author is already on to the family tree of Israel after they return from exile. But afterwards, we'll hear more about the families of Saul and David

Tomorrow: 1 Chronicles 10 - 23
Friday: 1 Chronicles 24 - 2 Chronicles 7

Reading the Bible in 90 Days: Day 27, 2 Kings 5 - 15

2011-06-27T23:10:00.000-05:00

We alternate back and forth between the kings of Judah and Israel. Israel's kings are almost unremittingly bad, with one or two (Ahab's son) just a little-less-bad. (Jehu is the one exception; he is anointed by Elisha the prophet and gets rid of all of the Baal followers. He tricks them and tells them he's going to serve Baal even more than Ahab, and then when he gets them all together, he has them all killed.)

Judah has some bright spots, although even most of the "bright spots" had some failings.

There are also several fantastic tales of the prophet Elisha, Elijah's successor. The one I liked (I had never noticed it before) was about how the guild of prophets are going to build a bigger place, with Elisha's permission. They are chopping wood and someone drops the axhead in the river. So Elisha tosses a branch from a tree and drops it in the river and the axhead floats back up.

This little story is in the middle of wars and kings totally wiping each other out. It seems kind of out of place.

I can't help thinking that the story of the kings can't come to a good end.

Tomorrow: 2 Kings 16 - 25
Wednesday: 1 Chronicles 1 - 9

"Thank You, God"

2011-06-25T14:33:00.000-05:00

This past week was week two of our Vacation Bible School Marathon. On week 1 we have a program run by one of our church camps; it's sort of like going to Bible Camp without actually going away. The only thing missing is the campfire by the lake.

This second week is staffed by -- us -- the Children's Ministry Coordinator, a huge staff of volunteers, many of them junior and senior high school students. We have traditional Bible School in the morning (although current curriculums stretch the definition of 'traditional') and in the afternoon, field trips. I take a more active role the second week as well. I am a large part of the team that introduces the story and the theme of the day.

This year's program (many of you will recognize) was "Pandamania: where God is 'wild' about you!" Though it was a great and well-written program in many ways, I'm still trying to solve the mystery of why it is called "Pandamania."

Anyway, I have to say -- I just have about 1/2 an hour a day (as well as preparation time, of course), and I'm still exhausted every day. This year we built an altar to Yahweh (and sacrified a candy bar instead of a bull, thank God); we made crafts representing the day of creation; we got inside a smelly "great fish" to hear part of the story of Jonah, and we ran into Peter while hiding from the Roman right after Jesus' crucifixion. Whew! I get tired even writing about it.

I need better vitamins.

Every day's lesson included a short phrase and the response: "Thank you God." So on Monday, we learned that God Made Us. "Thank you, God!" On Tuesday, we learned that God Listens to Us. "Thank You God!" On Wednesday, we learned that "God watches over Us.!" "Thank you, God." You get the idea.

The idea is also to say "Thank you, God!" AS LOUDLY AS YOU CAN.

Some things worked better than others. Not everyone appreciated the authentic 'fishy' smelly inside the fish, for example. The fish had a slight malfunction as well. But building the altar was terrific, and right before we were going to call on God to send fire on our sacrifice (candy bar), a firefighter rushed in to warn us!

The best was when Peter came to visit us. There we were, hiding in the chapel. Peter burst in, and ended up telling us his whole story, how Jesus was his best friend, all the things he saw, and how he let Jesus down. He felt so bad I thought he was going to cry.

Then I asked the children if they had any words for Peter, to make him feel better. They did.

"Don't feel bad, Peter," one said. "God will give you a second chance." "Jesus loves you and he's always your friend," said another. "Jesus will take you back," said another one. "Jesus will help you," said someone else. "Don't give up!" I heard someone say.

Thank you, God.

Reading the Bible in 90 Days: Day 23 -- 2 Samuel 13-22

2011-06-23T11:48:00.000-05:00

Here are names to remember:
Bathsheba and her husband, Uriah the Hittite, and the Prophet Nathan.
David had many sons, but here are two: Amnon and Absalom.
David's Daughter Tamar.

There is war in the family, and battles. And it all begins with David and Bathsheba. David is the King who has everything, including the love and the blessing of God. But he covets his neighbor's wife. And Nathan the prophet pronounces judgment on him: that there will be conflict and battle in his own household.

And that is what happens. Amnon rapes his sister Tamar. Absalom wreaks vengeance and Amon is killed. Absalom is exiled. When he returns, David still won't see him. Absalom becomes beloved of many of the people of Israel, and he makes himself king, tries to get his father killed. And yet when Absalom is killed, David weeps:

O my son Absalom, my dear dear son Absalom!
Why not me rather than you, my death and not yours,
O Absalom, my dear, dear son!

Yet David, for all his flaws, was still beloved of God.

There's a little scene in 2 Samuel 16, when David is runnning for his life, because Absalom is after him. A man named Shimei son of Gera is throwing rocks and cursing David. One of David's men wants to kill him, but David says, "my own son, my flesh and bone, is right now trying to kill me; compared that this Benjaminite is small potatoes. Don't bother with him; let him curse; he's preaching God's word to me. And who knows, maybe God will see the trouble I'm in today and exchange the curses for something good."

There's something incredibly expansive in that attitude -- Hearing God's voice in both the blessings and the curses.

Then in 2 Samuel 22, David sings a song of thanksgiving to God. I love these words:

"God rewrote the text of my life
when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."

Maybe it's just that particular metaphor for forgivceness that I like.

May God rewrite the book of our lives as well.

Reading the Bible in 90 Days: Day 20, 1 Samuel 3 - 15

2011-06-20T21:20:00.001-05:00

The boy Samuel goes to live with Eli the priest, and hears the voice of God (a rare occurrence in that time). God gives Samuel a word of judgment regarding Eli, and it turns out that Samuel is the pivotal person between the time of the judges and the time of kings in Israel.

God doesn't want the people to be ruled by kings "like all the other nations."

But, to be honest, they're not doing too well under the judges. The plot continues to be that the people forget God, they follow other gods, God sends them a judge and somehow they come to repentance and defeat their enemies. Then a little later they forget all about God again...

Anyway...

Saul is chosen as Israel first King. He stands head and shoulders over everyone else....literally. ( Even now, it seems that some people do equate height with leadership.)

Saul does well in battle. He rules for many years. But he makes some mistakes. He's insecure. He hedges his bets. He makes stupid oaths (you are cursed if you eat before we are done with the battle!).

By 1st Samuel 15 Saul is already on his way out.

Tomorrow: 1 Samuel 16 -28
Wednesday 2 Samuel 29 - 2 Samuel 12

Reading the Bible, Day 18: Judges 4-15

2011-06-18T13:37:00.001-05:00

Wow, what happened to Joshua? The people came, they saw, they conquered. that's how Joshua went, in quick couple of days of reading. There were a few battles mentioned (remember Jericho?), and the Israelites came in and took possession. They divided up the land. Joshua said, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." The people promised.

So, now I'm in the middle of Judges. The judges were the tribal leaders God sent from time to time to guide, and fight battles, and get the people back on track. Because remember Baal? The people kept turning away from God and following Baal.

Do they ever learn?
Do we ever learn?

(instead of Baal, insert: money, sports, success, your nice house, Target or any other retail establishment, your own particular brand of politics, war, etc. etc. etc.)

So we've had several stories of judges, including Deborah (had to mention her) and Gideon. Reasons I like Gideon: he doesn't think he's the likeliest candidate for a judge. He asks God to do the fleece test TWICE, once where the fleece is wet and the ground is dry, and one where the ground is wet all EXCEPT the fleece. I also like that God tells him to take fewer and fewer people with him into battle, because, as God puts it, "I don't want you to say that it's because we're so great and so strong that we won. I want it to be clear that you won this battle because of my guidance."

Now, we're in the middle of the story of Samson, one of the unlikeliest instruments of God Ever, in my humble opinion.

Tomorrow: Judges 16-1st Samuel 2.

pssst (the short, lovely book of Ruth is right in the middle of that reading)
Monday: 1st Samuel 3 - 15

I Don't know What Got Into Me...

2011-06-16T21:21:00.000-05:00

Recently I went and downloaded a book about the early Pentecostal movement, called Heaven Below. It's written by a church historian who grew up Pentecostal, and is now Methodist (I think). It's a pretty scholarly book, with lots of footnotes, and it researches all aspects of those early years of pentecostalism, from the role of race and class, from the strict morality and the interpretation of scripture, from church conflicts to the role of women.    The book recounts the prayer meetings and the overflowing emotions and different interpretations of the gift of tongues.

I'm a Lutheran, brought up going to church every Sunday, singing the hymns out of the red book. Hardly knew there were other Christians (except my Catholic friend down the street) until I was at least in high school. But I spent some fervant times among the charismatics and Pentecostals when I was in college and just afterwards, and those times still haunt me, on occasion.

A couple of weeks ago, my husband and I were invited to a play. One of his adult students, a gifted pianist and composer, is a teacher at the Apostolic Bible Institute. I didn't know, but it sounded suspiciously like a Pentecostal type of place. I googled it, and it turns out the school is run by the United Pentecostal Church. I knew a guy who was United Pentecostal when I was at college. Uppity woman that I am, I used to argue with him about the Trinity. (I also (ahem) had a theological discussion with a guy about infant baptism once, which was why he didn't ask me out again, I guess.)

But I digress.

We were invited to this play, a great production based on the story of Samson. It was really quite clever, although I will admit I was hoping that there would be music. As the sanctuary filled up, I noticed that there was only one other woman with short hair. Every other woman in the place had long long hair, and many women had their long hair put up in elaborate ways.

I felt a little like a Gentile.

But before and after the play, the President of the Bible Institute came out and led some praying and singing. One of the choruses was "Praise the Name of Jesus".   As I was singing along, I thought my husband was looking at me with a funny look, as if to say, "is there something I don't know about you?"

I recently read a book by a man who is a kind of neo-Pentecostal in the Lutheran church. He said that he couldn't imagine anybody being an ex-Pentecostal. I've met some, though; a woman I met at a book signing who said she grew up Assemblies of God and "had enough church to last the rest of her life." One of my friends in college doesn't call herself a Christian any more, as far as I know.

In most ways, I don't suppose I'm Pentecostal any more. I think that God comes to us in ordinary ways more often than in extra-ordinary. I believe the Bible is the Word of God, but that we have this treasure in the clay jars of human words.   I like liturgy. I don't find it empty of meaning, and don't think of it as rote repetition.

I do, however, still believe in the power of God to transform our lives, re-orient us, not just once, but again and again.

And sometimes, I do miss the Sweet Sweet Spirit.

Reading the Bible in 90 Days: Day 14, Deuteronomy 9 - 23

2011-06-14T17:32:00.000-05:00

I do love portions of Deuteronomy, that long sermon Moses preached just before the Israelites go over from the wilderness into the promised land. I love the admonitions to remember, and not to forget, who you are and what God has done for you; I love the exhortations to tell the children the story. I love how, in Deuteronomy's version of the ten Commandments, the Command to Keep the Sabbath is not on account of God's rest on the seventh day, but instead because the Israelites were slaves in the land of Egypt.

Sabbath and Freedom are connected. And your freedom is connected with freedom for other people. (If you rest, your family and your servants and even your animals can rest.)

What I heard a lot of in reading today was this: don't even be tempted, when you become prosperous in the land of Plenty, to forget what God has done for you, and believe that it's because you are so great that God blessed you. You are not so great, God keeps telling them. You're stubborn and whiny and you continually forget me and go after other gods. But in spite of that I have chosen and blessed you.

Don't take my blessing for granted, God warns them.

Tomorrow's reading: Deuteronomy 24 - 34

My Sunday

2011-06-12T21:45:00.001-05:00

I begin, as is traditional, on Saturday evening, and not just because we have a Saturday evening service. But, we have a small traditional service on Saturday evening, in our chapel. The chapel has a small pipe organ, which is out for repair all summer. So, we had traditional worship with piano instead of organ this week. A few of the people at church were worshipping on Saturday because they were going to be working for our Pot Luck Dinner today (lots of food and bring a dollar for World Hunger). They wanted to hear the sermon, I guess, which makes me smile.

Someone wanted me to mention the Dinner and invite people to give a dollar, even if they couldn't come today. So they did.

After church we were invited to a graduation open house, a family who had moved out a way from our community, but still somehow makes it in to worship more often than not. I had never been out to their house, out in the country, but we got directions from Mapquest and set out. We drove and drove and drove and did not find their house, so gave up and went home.

This morning I got up early even though we had decided only to have one service at 10:00 (in honor of the pot luck). I made tuna pasta with pesto, so that nobody could say, "the pastor never brings anything to the pot luck.") (By the way, nobody has ever said that.) I got to church pretty early, so that I could make sure the mikes were set up for the people reading in different languages, tie a couple more ribbons to the fan I was using for the children's message, practice my sermon. oh, and I wanted to make sure that someone I invited to church didn't come at 8:00 today -- the only time all summer we're not having church on the lawn!

The organist began the service with Spirit of God, Descend Upon my Heart. The band then continued with Ev'ry Time I Feel the Spirit. Six people read John 3:16 in different languages during a break in the Acts reading. The children left during the sermon to make colorful streamers, which they brought in later in the service. We processed around the church with the streamers, singing 'We are Marching in the Light of God.'

I have to say, those streamers were SO COOL.

Afterwards, I prayed for a woman who is having surgery this week. Prayed for the food before the pot luck. Ate the pot luck. Saw the 5th grade graduation paper of one of our students (I think he's proud). Saw directions taped to my door if I ever want to try to get to this family's house again.

Then I went home, with just a little bit of tuna pasta with pesto left, which my family ate. I took a nap.

We had salad for supper, and watched Laurel and Hardy try to carry that piano up the stairs.

Oh yeah, and I do think my sermon turned out pretty good.

Reading the Bible in 90 Days: Day 12, Numbers 22-32

2011-06-12T20:52:00.002-05:00

I didn't post yesterday (I won't be able to post every day), but I do recommend everyone who is reading along to make a few notes each day about what you read. In yesterday's reading is the serpent of bronze, Eldad and Medad prophesying in the camp (Would that all of God's people were prophets, Moses says), and Israel's first look at the land of Canaan. (almost everyone is sure that they could never defeat the inhabitants in battle; that's why God tells them that generation will continue to wander for 40 years).

Today:

There is more counting. After the new generation rises up, the tribes have to be counted again.
I loved the little vignette about the daughters of Zelophehad. Since there are no male heirs in their family, they demand a share of the land. What's the word? Assertive.

I also loved reading the extended story of Balaam, and the many attempts of Balak to get Balaam to curse the people of Israel. (Balaam kept telling them, "I can only say what God tells me to say. I can't curse people that God has blessed.") Balak keeps showing Balaam the Israelites from different vantage points, and the answer is always the same. Makes me muse about the nature of blessing and cursing, about prayer (I just prayed for healing for a woman after church today), about telling the truth. Do we measure our words, or just say what comes into our heads? Are we as concerned as Balaam about what is true?

So, it made me sad later on when the Israelites battle the Midianites and kill Balaam son of Beor.

The Midianites (and especially the women, it seems) were responsible for leading the Israelite men away from Yahweh and to worship of Baal. Baal is going to continue to make appearances throughout the Old Testament. If you're going to turn away from God, you have to have a few false gods lying around to turn toward.

Though I am in no way condoning the Midianite women, may I say this? No one can lead you astray without your permission.

When we get to Joshua and Judges, I'm afraid we are going to have a whole lot more bloodshed to deal with.

Tomorrow: Numbers 33 - Deuteronomy 7

Reading the Bible in 90 Days: Leviticus 27 - Numbers 8: Day 10

2011-06-10T07:03:00.000-05:00

Numbers is called numbers because there is a lot of counting going on: counting the men 20 and over by tribe and clan, counting the Levites, counting the firstborn of every tribe. There are 603,500 men over twenty in the wilderness right now, excluding the Levites, who are consecrated to take care of the Tabernacle, and the Ark, and the Sacrifices. There are 22,763 Levites (I think), and there are 22,000 firstborn males.

Women and children? Nothing said about them.

It's clear that part of the counting has to do with who is going to do the fighting. This is the army of the Israelites.

There's this part about how you handle it if a man suspects his wife is having an affair and is jealous, but doesn't KNOW it. He takes her to the priest and the priest pronounces a curse, (making sure that if the guy is just jealous the curse will not be activated, but if the wife is unfaithful it will), and if the wife truly is unfaithful she will be barren. And sick.

I can't help thinking: what if the man is unfaithful? Doesn't matter.

This is what people mean when they say the word "patriarchal."

tomorrow we read Numbers 9 - 21; Sunday Numbers 22 - 32

How to Read The Bible in 90 Days

2011-06-09T21:19:00.002-05:00

Some of you might think that this post should be titled, "Why Read the Bible in 90 Days"? for that, too, is a good question. There are programs to help you to read the whole Bible in a year, which seems challenging enough. Why read the Bible in 90 Days? In fact, to go even further, why read the whole Bible at all? Why not stay with the 'snippets'?

David Plotz wrote a book called, aptly enough, Good Book, in which he re-counts the things he learned when he read the whole Old Testament. (Plotz is Jewish.) It's funny, and enlightening, and sobering, too; in the end, he did not feel that his faith was strengthened by his project. He ended with more questions than answers. If you read the whole Bible, whether in a year of 90 days, there will be plenty of things to make you go, 'hmmmm.' There will be things that make you say, "the Bible is a very strange book." And there will also be plenty of wonderful surprises too. I'm telling you this, and I'm only in Leviticus.

There are plenty of reasons to read slowly, and carefully, smaller segments of the Bible. There are plenty of reasons to take short passages of the Bible and read them in a small group, and discuss what they mean, and what they mean in our lives. But that's not how to read the Bible in 90 Days.

If you are going to read the Bible in 90 Days, you're going to have to read a chunk a day. Most of us have other things to do during the day (working, making supper, sleeping, for example), so I'm going to make a huge generalization and say that when you read the Bible in 90 days (or so), you're going to read quickly, you're going to skim a bit, and I'm telling you now that it's ok. I give you permission to do that. We're going for the big picture here. If there are things you don't understand, that's okay too. Nobody understands everything in the Bible.

I am reading from Eugene Peterson's paraphrase The Message. Some people might consider this cheating. I do not. I am reading the Bible in 90 days (I hope), not studying the Bible for 90 Days. I know that this is not a study Bible.

As you're reading, though, notice a couple of things that picque your interest. Don't try to think about everything. Notice the things that catch your eye, and take some time to think about those things. If you're a writer, you might want to keep a diary of what you've read, and the things that make you go, 'hmmm.'

Of course, there are pitfalls with this method. I, for example, more often than not notice myself focusing on the women in scripture. (I can't figure out why that might be.) In other words, sometimes we gravitate to certain themes or stories in the Bible, the ones that we like or that intrigue us. There are other themes that are annoying or disturbing to us. We might like to sweep those under the carpet. What you ignore in the Bible tells you as much about yourself as what you gravitate toward. In fact, you might take a little time somewhere along the time to consider: are there parts of the Bible that I am consistently ignoring? Are there people I am more interested in and others I am not interested in? Who are you favorites?

As for me, I already know that I have warm feelings toward the people in the Bible who, when they are called by God to some impossible thing or another, say, "Who? Me? You must be mistaken, Lord." And there are several people like that, by the way. (See, for example, Moses and Gideon.)

Best wishes on your continued reading. We're in this together!

Reading the Bible in 90 Days, Day 9: Leviticus 15-26

2011-06-09T07:24:00.000-05:00

Let me just say: it's not easy to deal with all the holiness in Leviticus. Holy priests, holy people, holy things, being set apart which means being clean, not being defiled by the people and things of the world. So there are lots of laws, some understandable, some tough to handle. There is lots of putting-to-death, lots of punishment.

So, Israel is set apart, not like the other nations. Don't live like other people. You are God's people. Live like it.

And then, in the midst of the talk about Festivals, there's a section about Sabbath. There's a weekly sabbath, and a 7 year sabbath, and the Jubilee. Every fifty years, according to God, Israel was supposed to celebrate a Jubilee year. The land would rest, and they were just supposed to eat what grew naturally. Anyone who had become a slave would be set free, and be able to go back to their tribe. Land that had been sold would go back to the original owner. God definitely didn't want all of Israelite to be owned by one huge corporation. God definitely didn't want all the wealth to end up with a few people.

I'm starting to think I need to think harder and talk more about money in church.

Reading the Bible in 90 Days, Day 7: Exodus 29 - 40

2011-06-07T15:14:00.000-05:00

The golden calf episode: Not one of Israel's finest moments.

When Moses is gone for so long, there is a leadership vacuum, and the people get anxious. It seems to me that this still happens. There are still times in a congregation's life that there is a leadership vacuum, and sometimes, the wrong person fills it, in the wrong way.

Also, can I just say: the names Bezalel and Oholiab stuck out for me, for the first time. Who are they, you ask? They are two people specially designated and filled with the spirit, "with ability, intelligence, and knowledge in every kind of craft, to devise artistic designs, to work in gold, silver and bronze, in cutting stones for setting, and in carving wood, in every kinds of craft." (31:3-6).

Tomorrow: We begin Leviticus. Hold on to your seats. Chapters 1 - 14

Reading the Bible, Day 6: Exodus 16-28

2011-06-06T16:34:00.001-05:00

Complaining. Manna. Water.
Complaining.
The Ten Commandments.
Many other commandments.
The death penalty for cursing your parents! (did you notice?)
Instructions for the Tabernacle, for the ark of the covenant, for the priests and their garments.

As a pastor I was most interested in the scene where the lines are long every day with people who are looking for Moses, seeking his wisdom. His father-in-law, Jethro, gives him some good advice: Moses should find some leaders from every tribe to deal with the day to day issues that come up among the people.

Good leaders need to create more good leaders, then and now.

Note: the version I am using for this reading project is The Message. Sometimes I think it is helpful for the flow of the narrative, but today I was struck that I had to translate some of his language back into terms more familiar to me. For example The Dwelling = the Tabernacle; the Chest of the Testimony = The Ark of the Covenant.

Tomorrow: Exodus 29-40

How are you doing?

Reading the Bible, Day 5: Exodus 1 - 15

2011-06-05T16:20:00.001-05:00

The Israelites started in Egypt as valued guests. Suddenly, the ruling powers don't remember Joseph, and besides: the Israelites are getting to be (ahem) a pretty large minority. What if they aren't the minority any more?

As I consider the story of the Israelites and Moses and Pharoah and their slavery and their escape, these things come to mind:

1. Pharoah is stubborn and keeps changing his mind. But it is God who makes his stubborn.
2. Moses keeps mentioning that stammer of his. I for one am getting a little tired of it.
3. The Israelites make it across the Sea, but they aren't exactly THERE yet. There's a wilderness between slavery and freedom.
4. Plagues, burning bushes, darknness, unleavened bread: these are some of the images in Exodus.

But at the end of today, anyway, the Israelites are singing and dancing. Tomorrow they may whine and complain, but today they are singing and dancing. Sometimes I think I can almost hear the melody.

Reading the Bible, Day 4: Genesis 40-50

2011-06-04T19:37:00.004-05:00

Okay, guys, don't count on me doing this every day for 90 days. but for now:

We close the book of Genesis with the story of Joseph.

Two thoughts:

if you ever wondered, just how did the Israelites end up in Egypt, anyway? -- now you know.

also: "You meant it for evil, but God meant it for good."

tomorrow: we begin Exodus

Reading the Bible, Day 3: Genesis 29-39

2011-06-03T15:44:00.002-05:00

The print is really small in the Bible I'm reading. Or am I getting old?

Impressions after reading these chapters of Genesis:

Baby wars between two more strong women, sisters Rachel and Leah.
Jacob becoming prosperous despite his uncle Laban's treachery.
And I have to ask, regarding Rachel stealing Laban's household gods: why does she want the household gods anyway? Don't they worship Yahweh? What's the appeal of the household gods? I ask you
Jacob wrestling with the stranger, er, God, on his way back to meet his brother.
The stranger = God. It does give one pause.

The name of Jacob changed to Israel, which means "one who wrestles with God."

The one chapter devoted to Dinah, the one daughter among the many sons of Jacob. She is silent.
Unlike Eve, Sarah, Hagar, Rebekah, Rachel and Leah. She is silent.
What gives?

Maybe that's the problem.

Then there's Tamar, Judah's daughter-in-law. She is not silent, she is not passive, and she fares much better. Girls! Don't let the men fight your battles for you!

So now we are on to the story of Joseph, the dreamer.
At the end of chapter 39, Joseph is in prision, although it seems where-ever Joseph goes, "all things work together for good" for him.

to be continued....

Reading the Bible in 90 Days: Day 2

2011-06-03T11:58:00.000-05:00

Yesterday's reading was Genesis 17-28. God promised an heir to Abraham -- to Abraham AND Sarah. Abraham Laughed. Sarah Laughed. Abraham bargained with God to try to save Sodom and Gomorrah from destruction. Cheeky of him.

Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed, but Lot and his daughters escaped. Isaac (laughter)was born. Hagar and Ishmael were cast out, but God provided for them.

God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac, (Laughter). No backtalk from Abraham this time. I confess I'm a little disappointed in Abraham. If he tries to save Sodom and Gomorrah, why not his own son?

At the last minute, though, God provides for Abraham and Isaac.

Abraham sends his servant to find a wife for Isaac. Her name is Rebekah. She leaves her family (brother Laban -- remember this name!) to go and live with Isaac. For 20 years she is barren, and then:

Esau and Jacob are born. Esau means red, and Jacob means heel. They are twins, but Esau is born first, and so is entitled to a birthright and his father's blessing. Jacob steals both of them, and then flees. He has his mother's help in at least some of this.

Then, on the way to visit his uncle Laban, Jacob sleeps with his head on a rock, and sees a vision of angels.

Two things:
The blessing that Isaac gives to his son -- these are just words, and yet, it is such a calamity that Jacob gets those words, and Esau doesn't. How is it that words are so powerful? Why do words matter so much?

for good or for ill, we got some strong women going on here. Can't help but notice. Sarah and Rebekah, you are not perfect people. But you are interesting people.

Read the Bible in 90 Days: Day 1

2011-06-02T09:56:00.001-05:00

I'm already a day behind in posting, but I wanted to encourage those of you who might have begun. Late yesterday I began by reading Genesis 1-16, and just have a couple of observations:

1. If you start reading, really reading the Bible, there will be some things that make you go "hmmm." It's okay to have those moments. Right now we looking at the grand sweep of the stories.

2. Other than (perhaps) Enoch, there are no perfect people in the Bible. At least so far. There are good people, but no perfect people. We'll see how that progresses.

3. We're ending today in the middle of the story of Abraham-Sarah-Hagar. God sees Hagar, though she is an "outsider" and gives her a promise. A great place for a "to be continued...."

You Are My Sunshine

2011-05-30T21:47:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, after church (baptism at the second service, and visit with the woman who fractured her skull), my husband and I went to visit my dad at the nursing home where he lives.

When we got there, he was sitting in his wheelchair in the main room, napping. We woke him up and I grabbed a chair from another table, which upset one of the women who was sitting there. She started talking very loudly. I decided to avoid further upset by taking the piano bench instead of borrowing a second chair.

My dad is not the sparkling conversationalist he once was, for a lot of reasons. Besides his Parkinsons, he hasn't had his hearing aids for a long time, and yesterday it appears he (or someone) had mislaid his glasses. After a few minutes I got out the riddle book and the scrapbook with all of the pictures of his days with the Swedish Male Chorus.

I started by asking him some riddles. "Why did the fireman wear red suspenders?" (He didn't know that one.) "Oh, to keep his pants up!" I answered. However, he still knew the answer to "What's black, and white, and red (read) all over?" 'The newspaper', he answered. One of the first jokes he ever told me. He also remembered a few knock knock jokes.

We took out the big scrapbook and started looking at the pictures. He picked out the pictures of my mom, as she went along on a couple of their tours. I noticed that in one of the pictures, all the members of the Chorus were wearing red suspenders. "Hey!" I said. "Why did the Members of the Swedish Male Chorus wear red suspenders?"

"To keep their pants up," said a man at the next table.

I noticed that in the Male Chorus Scrapbook, there was a singalong book. So I took it out, and tried to find a few songs we could sing together. One thing my dad could always do -- he could always sing.

Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me
Home, Home on the Range
Don't Fence me In
You are my Sunshine

A woman came up to me and asked me if I could help her with her zipper.

"Why do you want help?"
"So I can take this shirt off."
"Oh, I don't think you want to do that here," I said. As she turned around, I noticed that her shirt did not have a zipper.

So my dad and I went back to our singing:

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know, dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away.

What's black and white and red all over?
--The newspaper.

Read the Bible in 90 Days

2011-05-27T22:10:00.000-05:00

Here's the suggested schedule.

I hope to blog my reflections throughout the summer. Join me with questions, insights, etc.

Vacations with Dogs

2011-05-25T22:00:00.001-05:00

Some people may ask, "Why would you want to take your dog with you on a vacation?"

It's a fair question. There are limitations to things you can do when/if you bring your dog with you on vacation, and there are logistical issues that you have to deal with.

First of all, not all hotels will let you bring your dog, especially your rather large dog (but often, any dog at all). We have found three hotels (so far) that we really like because they welcome our dog, and they are actually quite nice. One hotel we used to just stay over at overnight while we were taking our son back to college up north. We remained loyal to this hotel during some major renovations, because they were so unfailingly friendly whenever we walked in the door with Scout. And, we have a lot of fond memories of this hotel, one of the nicest being the time Scout escaped one wintry Easter after we had taken her outside for bathroom duties. She ran around the hotel in circles several times before just running back inside through a door left open.

Second, you are not able to bring your dog into fine dining establishments with you. I realize that some people will leave their dog in the car sometimes, but we are leery of doing that, since we once left Scout in the car briefly on a very cool spring evening, so that we could get a little bite to eat. Someone came into the restaurant and said in a very loud voice, "Hey! someone left their dog in the car! I'm calling the police!" So when we take Scout on vacation with us, we usually eat at places where they have outdoor dining, or get sandwiches, or eat in our room.

Third, if you are going to visit, for example, Split Rock Lighthouse in Two Harbors, Minnesota, they do not really want you to bring your dog with you. Most retail establishments forbid dogs (with the exception of a few antique malls), so we either 1) don't shop, or go to Split Rock Lighthouse, or 2) take turns going in, or waiting outside with the dog.

So, if she's so much trouble, why take her along?

Of course, there are times when we don't, times when we expect we will be spending a lot of time on subways, or at museums, or in other places that we don't think Scout will enjoy.

But there are advantages some advantages to traveling with your dog.

For example, just looking in the back seat and seeing her there, with her head on my husband's guitar, with her eyes open or closed. (I do get annoyed when she tries to sit between us in the front seat, because there's NOT ROOM.)

Or, let's say you are just minding your own business, taking your dog on a walk because you can't go into the toy store, and while you are walking you happen to run into three llamas! How much more fun is it to run into llamas if you can see your dog's reaction to the llamas, and the llama's reaction to them!

Or, let's say you are visiting antique stores. 50% of antique stores we visit allow Scout to shop with us, and some of those establishments actually welcome her, and say nice things to her, and tell her how beautiful she is. Some people even ask which antiques she is most interested in.

People of all ages want to talk to us because we have a dog. Well, actually, they just want to pet our dog, or wonder what kind of dog she is. They often ask about the ears. And we are frequently mistaken for Fine, Upstanding Citizens simply because we have a friendly dog along with us.

It's kind of fun to be offered dog treats when you go through the drive through (though we eschewed the ice cream with a milk bone sticking out of it).

There's nothing like relaxing in your hotel room with your husband and dog at the end of a long day of hiking, sight-seeing, eating at picnic tables, and (possibly) meeting strange animals. You should try it.

Really.

The Rapture and Tornadoes

2011-05-23T18:35:00.001-05:00

So, the world didn't end on May 21, 2011. Jesus didn't appear, and those who followed him were not raptured away from this world on Saturday, never to face pain or evil or suffering again.

On Sunday, tornadoes devastated Joplin, Missouri, and destroyed homes and lives nearer to me, in Northeast Minneapolis. Not the apocalypse, but for those who experienced it: close enough.

To me, the most disturbing thing about believing in the rapture is not the propensity to choose exact dates. It's the idea that some followers of Jesus believe that they will escape great suffering while the majority of the human race goes through the tribulation. There sometimes seems to be an unseemly glee when some recount the misery that others will encounter after they themselves are raptured.

First of all, there is plenty of evidence that followers of Jesus are going through, and not escaping, tribulation, every day.

And second, I would hope and pray that in the event of tribulations, in the event of disasters, the last thing that followers of Jesus would want to do is escape. I would hope and pray that followers of Jesus would follow Jesus: more deeply into the suffering, into the tribulation: to bind up wounds, to heal, to comfort, to rebuild, to make peace. I would hope that followers of Jesus would want to be in Joplin, Missouri, in Northeast Minneapolis, as well as in chemotherapy wards, in hospice care units, on battlefields, showing the mercy of God, showing the face of the love of God.

Until the real last day. Whenever that is.

It's NOT the End of the World

2011-05-22T19:39:00.001-05:00

After the second service this morning, someone came up to me and said, "I didn't think you'd be here this morning." I found this a singularly puzzling statement; I couldn't for the life of me figure out why she thought I wouldn't be in church. (I'm on vacation now, but did she think I was on vacation last week, too?)

It finally occurred to me: the Rapture.

Though it has been on my mind here and there for the last couple of weeks or so, by this morning I was so totally over the presumed Rapture that I wasn't thinking about it at all. Instead, I was thinking about my children's sermon (would I find some kind of blocks to use, or not?), the installation of the call committee, the reception of new members, the fact that Confirmation was last week, and Sunday School ended last week, and so the crowds have already thinned out a little. I was thinking about the list in the back of my mind of things that I needed to do before I could leave town this afternoon. I was thinking about presiding and preaching and making sure both services were lively and meaningful and that I could still stand up afterwards.

Oh yeah, the rapture.

So, there were no references to the rapture in my sermon, no prayers, and no little jokes about how we're all still here. (though I heard that at my husband's church, the youth director preached, and he mused, "what if we were all still here, and all the people at all the other churches are gone?")

Me and the end of the world: we go way back, at least to the 8th grade, when my dad first read the book The Late Great Planet Earth, by Hal Lindsay. I also read, or at least skimmed, the book at that time. I remember as an 8th grader, that I was adamantly opposed to the end of the world. At thirteen, there were rough spots in my life, but, hey!, I had a future, and nobody was going to tell me otherwise.

So I've never been attracted to "end of the world coming soon" theology. Ever. Even in my most fervent, college-era, tongue-speaking, charismatic era, I was agnostic about the rapture. And I had read enough (Lutherans had published a rebuttal to Hal Lindsay called The Future of the Great Planet Earth) that I had becoming a dedicated amillenialist.

I have to say, however, that while I'm not looking forward to the end of the world, excited to be raptured or worried about being left behind, I do think there's something to be said for living expectantly. Perhaps my hope and expectation is somewhat different than that of the ones looking forward to the rapture. But I do confess and expect the reign of Christ, a time of justice and abundance on earth, a time when there will be no more crying and no more pain, where the lamb will be the light. So much as those rapturists who thought May 21st would be the day, I expect a new world, and I have to say, from the outside this hope seems every bit as foolish as the hope of the followers of Harold Camping.

It's also true that I get so distracted by things like: the installation of the call committee, finding some blocks for the children's message, calling the pianist with next week's songs, that I lose sight of the things I really hope for, and the signs of Christ's coming, and Christ's presence right now.

So, May 21st has come and gone. So what? As for you, what do you hope for? We do not know the day or the hour, it's true, but I hope we are ready, all ready, to catch a glimpse of him when he comes.

Every day. And in the end

You Are....a sermon for Easter 5

2011-05-21T20:44:00.003-05:00

1 Peter 2:2-10

When I was a little girl, there was a pretty solid line between the kind of toys boys got to play with and the toys girls got
– for example, my brother got trucks – we got dolls – we got the Easy Bake Oven, he got the chemistry set.
But every once in awhile, my brother got something that I kind of envied, that I wished someone had gotten for me, instead.
One of those presents was something called a “Rock Tumbler.”
This was a contraption, or a machine that promised to make plain ordinary stones into beautiful shiny agates.
You just put the rocks into the machine – more than one at a time, of course, and you put in something called “grit”
– and you turned on the machine and the rocks went round and round and when they came out – magic!
– they were changed, they were beautiful, they were something you might want to put on a necklace and hang around on your neck.

“Come to him, a living stone.... and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house.....”

So. Last week we were sheep.
This week we are stones. Living stones. That is what you are, according to Peter.
You are.... living stones being built into a spiritual house.... Last week, you were sheep who need a shepherd.
Perhaps you thought it was a little insulting to be called a “sheep” – if you know very much about sheep, it’s not the most flattering comparison, believe me.
Sheep are not the brightest animals, and getting lost, and getting into trouble is something they are very good at.
But consider what it means to be called a stone. A rock, if you will.
What words come to your mind when you think of the word “stone”?
Stones are — inert, they are unmoving.
They are usually quite plain, they are, you might say, personality-less, or boring. That’s what we are called, though. Stones.
Living stones, but still – stones.

So, what does it mean that Peter calls us “stones”?
What is the significance, perhaps?
We might consider a couple of the stories in the Bible where stones figure.
First, there is the story of Jacob in Genesis.
You remember Jacob? Son of Isaac and Rebekah.
Tricked his brother out of his birthright and his blessing.
He’s running away, having tricked his brother Esau. And when he is exhausted and he has to finally sleep, he uses a stone for a pillow.
I can’t imagine anything more uncomfortable, but Jacob is one the run and has to take what he can get. In the night he sees a vision of angels climbing up and down a ladder, and the next morning he’s convinced that “God is in this place, and I didn’t know it.”
He makes an altar right there, and pours oil over the stone, and calls the place “Beth-el.” Which means, “house of God.”
Where those plain old stones are. The house of God.

Or, there’s the story of the Israelites while they are finally getting ready to go over into the promised land.

Each of the twelve tribes is encouraged to find a stone to carry over with them from one side of the Jordan to the other side.
This stone represented something from the past that they would carry with them into their future. Fair enough.
But the stone was something from a very specific past – they were to carry mementos from their forty years of wandering in the wilderness.
The stones weren’t just for fond memories of their successes back in the good old days.
The stones represented how God kept faith with them in the wilderness, even as they were about to cross over into the promised land.

And then finally there is this stone, the stone that the builders rejected – Jesus, the stone that would become the cornerstone of ourfaith.
Come to him who is also a stone – a stone that most people looked at and threw out, a stone that was rejected,
a stone that was considered plain and ordinary and even worthless, maybe even worse than worthless – you know,
as in, “get rid of that stone hanging around your neck – it’s only weighing you down” –

there is the stone who is Jesus, who is, by the way, the cornerstone, the foundation of a new community, a spiritual house.

Last week, you were sheep. This week, You are .... stones, plain old stones.
Plain old stones, but the house of God
Plain old stones, but mementos of God’s presence in the wilderness.
Plain old stones, but being built into a spiritual house.
But not without some rock-tumbling, and some grit.

You are..... You are....
if we’re honest, you hear a lot more different kinds of endings to this sentence, many of them not like Peter’s.
You are.... you are one small person, and what you do will never make a difference.
You are.... you are... consumers, defined by your wants and your desires.
You are .... trying to make it on your own. You are popular, you are not, you are successful, you are not, you are rich, you are poor, you are liberal, you are conservative, you are what you eat.
You are....

We are always being told who we are by someone or another.

But Peter says, you are stones, and you are being built into a spiritual house, a community.
You are stones in that rock tumbler, and you are God’s people, and you are becoming.... beautiful.

You are stones in the rock tumbler, you are the house of God, which means You are.... something else too.
First, you are .... chosen.
I have a bucket of rocks, a few left, I think, from the stones I found for the children’s message.
I picked them up from around the church after it stopped raining yesterday.
And I’ll tell you something, not one of these stones jumped up into my hand by itself.
All of them I chose, I picked up out of the dirt, turned over, washed off.
In the same way, you are chosen by God, picked up, turned over, washed off.

You are also called, you are called by God to a different kind of life.
Because Jesus is our cornerstone, and your life is built around him.

He is not society’s cornerstone, he’s not our culture’s cornerstone.
In fact, he’s been rejected, again and again, by the powers that be: too plain, too humble, too impractical, to merciful.
But he’s our cornerstone and our lives our built around his life.
And so we are chosen and precious, and we are called, called, called to a different kind of life

And you are... you are not alone

Anna Quindlan was asked to speak at a commencement, to give some advice to those who were graduating. Here’s a little about what she said:

“ here's what I wanted to tell you today: Get a life.

Get a real life, not a manic pursuit of the next promotion, the bigger paycheck, the larger house.

Do you think you'd care so very much about those things if you blew an aneurysm one afternoon, or found a lump in your breast?

Get a life in which you notice the smell of salt water pushing itself on a breeze over Seaside Heights,
a life in which you stop and watch how a red-tailed hawk circles over the water gap or the way a baby scowls with concentration when she tries to pick up a Cheerio with her thumb and first finger.

Get a life in which you are not alone. Find people you love, and who love you.”
(Source: Commencement address at Villanova University (February 8 1999)

Get a life in which you are not alone. Find people you love, and who love you.

You know what this reminds me of?
It reminds me of the young woman from our congregation who told me she would rather go on a mission trip to South Dakota than play summer basketball.
It reminds me of the people from this congregation who decided to sponsor refugees, from many different countries;
it reminds me of the people who come out for the funerals of friends, it reminds me of people who have taken time out of their schedules to teach immigrants to read.
It reminds me of people who stick their necks out for people who don’t have a voice.
It reminds me of you, the body of Christ.

Get a life in which you are not alone. Find people you love who love you.
Brothers and sisters in Christ, that is exactly the life we are given in Jesus, our cornerstone.
We are given a life in which we are chosen and precious, in which we are called to life differently, in which we are not alone.
We are the house of God, and surely God is in this place, and we didn’t even know it.
We are the signs of God’s presence in the wilderness, God’s faithfulness in the wildness, on the way to the promised land.

You are.... you are... stones in the rock tumbler, you are the place where God dwells, built around the cornerstone, the one who died, the one who lives.
AMEN

Riding the Bus

2011-05-19T21:23:00.000-05:00

This week I've been (mostly) away at a week of Feasting for preachers called "Festival of Homiletics." Well, okay, I'm not really "away." The Festival came to my town this year, which meant that I could afford to go. I've been spending every day in one of the big gothic churches in our downtown area, listening to eloquent and truthful sermons and lectures, words that uplift and break your heart, alternating between taking furious notes and just sitting and letting the words wash over me.

There has been some pretty incredible music too.

I don't live far from downtown, so every day I've been taking the bus downtown. I haven't taken a bus for a few years, but long ago, before I was a pastor, I took the bus to work every day. When I was in high school, I took the bus downtown for piano lessons at MacPhail Center for the Performing Arts (I know, sounds impressive, but I'm really not that good.) And when I was a little girl, my grandmother used to take me on the bus downtown with her to go shopping, and to the public library. So, the bus and I go WAY back.

But like I said, it's been several years since I have taken a bus. I don't know the schedules, and had to google the bus company to find out what the fares are now (2.25 one way). I started out taking the 18 bus on Tuesday morning. It's a route I knew a little bit about, since I got on an 18 bus once by mistake long ago and ended up lost. But from that experience I learned basically where the 18 went.

It's a bus route that takes a basically straight route from where I live to our downtown area, stopping every block to pick people up. On the 18 you will find mothers with small children, the Somali woman with her head covered, the woman who rides with her carry-on luggage, boys with ipods in their ears. It's a pretty diverse crowd.

By the next day I had figured out that there was a bus stop less than 1/2 from my house, an express bus that stopped on a freeway exit, picked up people going to work, and got right back on the freeway. As you might imagine, this bus carries a somewhat different crowd. (I even ran into someone from my church!).

A few things about taking the bus after a long hiatus: You really have to pay attention to where the stops are. Some of the rules (I discovered) have changed about which buses stopped here. I also remembered that it's good to bring some reading material for the journey. You are riding together, but generally speaking, people don't talk to each other.

Taking the bus every day has taken me back, in a way, back to a time and place before I was a pastor. Taking the bus every day has taken me back to a time when I was a little girl, holding my grandmother's hand, and wandering through the aisles at the big public library downtown. Or back to a time when I sat at a desk every day, typing and answering phones and wondering what was the purpose of my life. Or back to a time when I didn't have a car.

So, I'm going to this preaching conference every day, and I'm remembering what it was like to be something other than a preacher: a kid, a student, a clerical worker, someone struggling to make ends meet, someone trying to figure out where God was at in the world, or in her life, someone going home exhausted every day.

And I think, that after hearing all of the eloquent words and wise advise of the week, maybe just taking the bus every day will do something to make me a better preacher.

What do you think?

What I Need

2011-05-16T22:23:00.001-05:00

Yesterday was Confirmation Day. I had the Saturday evening service, three services on Sunday. The third was a special service for the confirmands. Afterwards I was invited over to the home of one of the confirmands. I'm glad I went; we got a chance to talk about the transition at our church. They asked some questions about the process of getting a new senior pastor, what kinds of things we need to do and to know.

Today I had a funeral. Four women from my congregation were standing together afterwards. All of them Stephen Ministers. When I saw them, I called them "The Dream Team." I also did a little housekeeping, to make sure I was ready to go to my Continuing Education classes. I got a call on another funeral, which someone else will be handling.

Then I went to the Festival of Homiletics.

I registered and walked around the big downtown church for awhile.

I sat outside in the sun (it is finally sunny here!) and read a little bit of a novel called Loving Frank.

I bought a book in the bookstore.

I ran into a couple of old friends, made some plans for lunches.

I listened to wonderful music by a local group called Cantus.

I sang along with all the many many voices on the song, "Holy God, we Praise Your Name."

I soaked up a wonderful sermon by Barbara Brown Taylor, "Learning to Fall", and a Lecture by Thomas Long.

I stopped at the store on the way home, bought fancy olives (among other things).

I gave my dog Scout a tummy rub.

And I thought, this is what I need.

So simple, really.

Some Good Words for my Friend, Who I Didn't Know was a Gardener

2011-05-14T14:16:00.000-05:00

(I presided, but did not preach, at a recent funeral. The other pastor preached. Instead, I said these words.)

In this world where there is so much loneliness, one of the best gifts God has given us is one another.

What I want to do today, mostly, is tell you a story. It's a story I didn't know about H and G and this church, until we met with one another on Friday. But it's story that some of you may know, already. It's a story about roses, community, and hope.

I will tell you, I thought I knew H pretty well. After all, I've been your pastor for a few years now. I knew H and G as a devoted couple, devoted to one another. When I see H, I often picture him in the church office, eating lunch with his wife, whenever she was working. Or, I think of him with a stack of bulletins in his hands, sometimes, standing at the back of the church. Of, I think of him as a man who loved worship, and especially the liturgy. I knew that he loved his congregation, and had been a leader in many efforts throughout the year, but I didn't know all of the things he had done. I also knew that he was attentive to the wider church, the work of the church colleges and the synod. But I didn't know that he was a gardener, and how much he loved roses. I didn't know that he had such a green thumb.

So, on to the story: Several years ago, in the fall, H was out in his garden, covering his roses, getting them ready for the winter. He was working hard when he had a heart attack, what would be his first heart attack, and was taken to the hospital. But, the work was not finished. Not all of the roses were covered.

That's where some of you came in, some of his brothers and sisters in Christ from this congregations. A whole host of you came over and went to work, completing the work that H had started. You worked side by side, getting the garden ready for the winter, a community of friends on a common mission. But, I imagine that it was also fun.

In this world where there is so much loneliness, one of the best gifts God has given us is one another.

Brothers and sisters in Christ, we grieve together, we rejoice together, we step up for one another.

One of the things I knew about H was that he was hoping and expecting to get back to the work of the congregation, and that he was disappointed when his energy did not return. I also knew how much he was blessed and honored by the support and presence of his friends in his life. This congregation was a gift to him -- really both to him and to G.

When you called and left the message in the church office, G, I was expecting to hear you say, "H is in the hospital." I wasn't expecting to hear you say that he had died. I always thought that I would a chance to have one more conversation with you both.

The promises of Easter, the promises of eternal life, comfort us today. But God has given us many gifts today, including the gift of one another, the gift of community. When Jesus rose, he rose to give us life, and he rose to give us one another --

We are bound together, united by a common hope, by a common mission, by our songs and by our prayers.

And by roses.

We share our mutual woes, our mutual burdens bear,
and often for each other flows the sympathizing tear.

From sorrow, toil, and pain, and sin we shall be free;
and perfect love and friendship reign through all eternity. (Blest be the Tie that Binds)

P.S. at the funeral were several refugees who had been sponsored by this couple throughout the years. I didn't know about them, either.

The First Thunderstorm of the Season

2011-05-10T18:46:00.001-05:00

Yesterday we woke up to rumblings in the sky. It was a dark morning, thunder and lightning, the first spring storm. Scout was sitting on the rug at the end of the bed -- not too bad yet, although when I asked her to come, she wouldn't. My side of the bed is near the window, a dangerous place.

Through the early hours of the morning, as the sounds got louder and scarier, our dog got more and more worried. She paced, she panted, but what she did most of all, what she always does during thunderstorms, is try to find a safe place to hide. At one point she ended up in our small bathroom (who told her this is really the safest place in the house?), at another time she wedged herself between my husband's easy chair and the end table. She is also partial to the basement. There is a bed downstairs she can crawl under.

I try to comfort Scout. I keep telling her that we won't let the bad storm get her, but she doesn't respond to reason. Fear is often like that. You can't reason with it. You can only be there.

Inevitably, as I watched Scout and as I heard the sky, I considered the disciples, the Easter disciples hiding in their locked room after the resurrection. They were afraid, the story says, and so they tried to find a safe place to hide. And why is it that I imagine that room as small and cozy, with not much room for another person, not even a resurrected Savior?

Despite the resurrection of Jesus, it seems we are often afraid. The sky rumbles, the world changes, the signs and portents we do not understand. There are many things going on in our culture that don't seem so friendly. The things we used to do (at least in church) don't always work any more. Some people don't come. Others mock believers. Some just ignore us. We can keep saying and saying, "God is in charge. This is Christ's church," and even know it's true, but still, we're afraid.

It's tempting, at times like these, to try to find a safe place to hide: the basement, perhaps? Any small space, where there is not much extra room, will do. It's tempting, at times like these, to make our expectations as small as the space we are hiding: to forget that Jesus rose from the dead and is still risen. It's tempting to find that small space and stay there, with the people we know, doing the things we know how to do. It's dark and cramped, but it's safe. Right?

So Jesus walks into that small locked room, and you know what? he doesn't say, "I'm in charge." He doesn't say, "I won't let the big bad thunder get you." All he says is, "Peace." Peace be with you.

And then he sends us out, not to do our puny little tasks, but to proclaim and enact his great mission. He sends us out in the thunder and the lightning, to that dangerous world. He sends us out to the world not to reason with people, not to tell people facts about God, but to love them. To be there.

Consumers or Producers

2011-05-07T19:34:00.000-05:00

My husband, a musician, likes to talk about different ways people love music. Most people love music of some sort or another, but they love it mostly as consumers. In other words, they are listeners. They turn on a radio, or pop in a CD or love sorting the tunes on their ipods by genre, or creating a nice "mix" of music to listen to.

There's another way to love music, though, and that is as someone who makes music. You can write songs, or you can play music, but in either case you are choosing not just to consume but to produce. You can use your voice or piano keys or a rhythm instrument, you can play a flute or a kazoo, you can be a professional or a rank amateur, but if you play, you are producing something rather than just consuming it.

Both consuming and producing are normal activities. We do both of them in our lives, although it seems to me that we are beginning to skew more and more toward the consuming side. If you buy, cook and eat your supper, you're both a producer and a consumer -- producing a nice meal and then eating it. If you put something in the microwave or go out to eat (and we do this more often than I care to admit) you're just a consumer.

My mom sewed a lot of our clothes. Now I mostly go shopping, reserving my limited sewing skills and patience for hems and mending. I do find a strange attraction to knitting, partly because, I think, I can produce something for someone else (or me!) to wear. We used to get most of our books out of the public library, reading the book being the most important thing at the time. I wrote reams and reams of short stories and poems and one acts plays on lined notebook paper. A friend and I would read our work to one another. Now for some reason it seems important to own the book, whether I get around to actually reading it or not.

Then I turn to worship. It seems to me that the idea has developed that the clergy and other professionals are the producers of worship, and that the congregation are consumers of worship. Some people critique congregation members for this, but I think that clergy and other worship leaders can be as much to blame. If it is true that we are all worshipping, with our voices, with our hearts, with our lips, we are all producers of worship, and we're all consumers as well. If we "get a lot out of worship," it may be just because we put our hearts, souls and minds into worship.

It's true that we consume the Word which is given to us, something we did not produce ourselves. But as we chew and swallow and ponder what we freely receive, we do go out to produce, to create, to produce fruit, to create community, to do justice and to love kindness. We are not simply collectors or appreciators of fine Bible verses, putting them in order by genre.

Rank amateurs we may be, but somehow we start playing those verses with ours lives, producing melodies and harmonies based on "Love one another as I haved loved you," or "The Lord is my shepherd", or "The Lord has risen."

Tomorrow the bread is broken, the songs are sung, the word comes into our ears, into our hearts. We take and eat. We go and live.

What I Want Our Church to Look Like

2011-05-05T22:11:00.000-05:00

1) A deeper spirituality that shows in our love for worship, prayer and one another.

2) A deeper commitment to our community, caring about the needs, concerns, gifts of our neighbors

3) To be committed to both personal and social transformation, realizing that personal transformation is a gift of the Holy Spirit, something Christ works in us as we trust his love and forgiveness

4) To be committed to create a congregation that looks more like our neighborhood and God's kingdom,

5) To look like people who really believe that we have a God bigger than we are, and a mission bigger than we are

6) To give ourselves away for the sake of Jesus, and the love of the world.

I want us to worship with heart and soul, to welcome and nurture the children, and to be deeply invested in sharing Jesus with our community through acts of love and justice.

Low Sunday: Before I Forget

2011-05-03T21:31:00.000-05:00

So, again I preached on what is known as "low Sunday" in some circles (although never in ours). To be fair, I did get the opportunity to preach on Easter twice here, for the large crowds that come on Easter Sunday. This is not an opportunity that your average Senior Pastor shares lightly.

We do not call the 2nd Sunday in Easter "low Sunday" although we do give the choir the Sunday off, and some of the people also seem to take the Sunday off as well. So, the congregation was not quite as full on Sunday.

It wasn't so low for me, though.

There was no choir, but there was a wonderful soloist at our first service, singing Handel's "I Know That My Redeemer Liveth." At the second service we recognized the Sunday School teachers, and all of their students gave them flowers. Also, the cherubs sang, and jumped around, and they made us jump around too.

We had our first annual Mother/Daughter Brunch after church (four kinds of quiche, salad, fruit, rosemary potatoes...). I invited my mom to come to worship and to the brunch with me. When I saw her sitting in the church, I approached her. She said to me, mysteriously, I thought, "Someone from your past is here today."

I raced back out to the narthex, looking for the mysterious visitor. No one. I raced back into the sanctuary (thirty seconds after the worship service should have started) and whispered to my mom, "I didn't see anyone." She said, "They said they were staying for the church service."

So I had the congregation stand and we began to sing the opening songs.

Then I spotted them: two old friends from college. They had gotten married and moved to Idaho, then to Washington State. I hadn't seen them for I don't know how many years. I had roomed with her in college, and, since we both lived in the Twin Cities, we ended up getting together during the summers as well. We went to prayer meetings together. We sang together (special music) at my church.

I did my heart good to see them.

I now have their email address.

Oh, and another thing, before I forget: the day before 'low Sunday', I was at the 9th grade confirmation retreat. I was going through the promises that the confirmands make, helping them to know what promises they are making. I remember backing up a bit when they promise to 'proclaim the gospel,' to ask them, 'what is the gospel, anyway? What are we proclaiming?

And I told them that they were part of the body of Christ, and that they had gifts to share, and that we needed their gifts in our congregation, we needed their voices, their ideas, their thoughts. One of the girls turned to me and said, "Thank you."

That's the other thing that made my day.

I Came Home From the Confirmation Retreat to Preach on Thomas

2011-04-30T21:11:00.000-05:00

Those two things seem to be related to one another.

Our 9th graders are preparing for their confirmation this weekend. I was with them last night and this morning as they did some serious work, completing Spiritual Gifts Inventories, reading stories out of the Gospel of Matthew, doing some initial thinking about the Faith Statements they will be writing.

Our evening devotions last night was called "Stations of the Resurrection." It's based on a now-out-of-print book for teens with scriptures, prayers and reflections for different of the resurrection stories. They move around to different stations and read the stories and think about the experiences the apostles had.

Their favorite story? Thomas.

This morning one of the confirmands was looking for a scripture verse about doubt, or even questions. She has faith, but she has questions, and she wanted to choose a confirmation verse that told her it was okay to have questions. I told her questions are definitely ok, even courageous, sometimes.

Later on, we were talking about confirmation day, and the promises they will be making. I told them that when they were baptized God chose them to be one of God's people, and that they had gifts to share with the church. I told them that now they had the opportunity to publicly say that they wanted to be part of the people of God, part of God's mission in the world, and that they promise to "live among God's faithful people, to hear God's word, and share the Lord's supper...." (among other things.)

We talked about faith.... and doubt. How some days when one of us is doubting, another one of us feels strong in faith, and how, when we gather, we help each other to keep going, keep following Jesus, even when we have questions.

Tomorrow, when I preach, one thing I will say is that we come to church to hear the Word, but I don't think that's all we come to church to do. I think we also come to church to see Jesus. We come to church to see Jesus, if not in our own lives, in one another's lives. We come to church because we want to know, again and again, "is it really true?" Is forgiveness possible? Can enemies really be reconciled? Is Love really stronger than death?

I think that is what our confirmation students want to see, too. They are looking at church leaders, their parents, the people they see at church, and they are not asking for perfection, but they are looking for Jesus in our lives. Do we sing like we mean it? Do we know mercy and do mercy? Are we honest about our own questions, and our own failures, because we know that there is someone greater than our failures?

Tonight, I imagine those 9th graders sitting around the campfire, eating s'mores and telling stories and seeing each other's faces reflected in the glow. I imagine that tonight they feel strong and committed to follow Jesus, even though they have questions, and even though they still (after three years) don't have any idea of all the places where Jesus might lead them.

Tonight, I believe that it is still Easter, and that Jesus is alive. Forgiveness is possible. Love is stronger than death.

Even if you doubt, join us tomorrow.

Especially if you doubt.

Detail Oriented

2011-04-28T18:32:00.000-05:00

I've been asked before, "Are you detail oriented?" I think I know what the questioners mean. I've been in business before, and I think they mean, "do you attend to the administrative details? And, how do you do this?"

For example, if I am planning a funeral, do I remember to call the servers, the organist, the person doing the bulletins, the custodian? Do I remember to ask the right questions about music, numbers of people coming, whether they want to have communion or not? do I remember to have a worship assistant or an usher? Do I remember to ask for a room for the luncheon after the service?

Ministry is filled with details like these.

If I am planning a program, do I know all the things I need to do in order to pull it off successfully? Do I remember that there is advertising and promotions, there are people to recruit and materials to find, and a suitable space to procure? Perhaps there is training for volunteers as well. How do you make sure to remember all these details?

There's another way to look at the phrase, "detail oriented," though, and I wish someone would ask questions about this way of being detail oriented.

Do you notice the two women sitting in the back of the church, crying? Or how that girl in confirmation sits apart from everyone else? When you meet with the young couple who want to get married, do you notice when they look at each other, and when one of them looks down? Can you read between the lines when you ask a man who just had to put his wife in a nursing home how he is, and he answers, "Fine"? Or when you hear a young man read the lesson for the first time, do you notice how he walks back to his seat with just a little swagger in his step?

Do you know the young girl in your congregation who is just itching to take her first communion, but it's a year away? Or the couple who are looking for a way to make a difference in their community? Do you know that people are not just the sum total of their needs, but the sum of their needs, and their hopes, and their gifts, and the Holy Spirit working in them, God knows how?

Are you detail oriented?