Contemplative Prayer

 One of the most consequential experiences of my short sabbatical this summer happened almost at the end of my time away.  I had spent a good deal of necessary time with family, both in Atlanta and in Minnesota.  I had finished my certification in Spiritual Direction course in South Carolina, had hiked in areas along the Blue Ridge Mountains, listened to music, and spent a week on the North Shore of Lake Superior, writing and hiking and just being near the water.  There is something about being near water, isn't there?  

At the back of my mind was something I wanted to do in July:  go to contemplative worship one Saturday night at Lake Nokomis Presbyterian Church, in Minneapolis.  They offer the Saturday night service twice a month, as part of an emphasis on sabbath.  I had first thought about going on the second Saturday in July, but somehow we got distracted by a River Festival in a small town near my brother's place, so we went there instead.

Kara Root is the pastor of Lake Nokomis Presbyterian Church.  Back in 2020, I had read her book "The Deepest Belonging".  Then, this year, she published a follow-up, Receiving This Life, which also tells stories but offers prayers and faith practices as well.  Somewhere along the line I learned that her church offers a contemplative service, and I was genuinely curious.  My time was running out.  I knew I couldn't put it off again.

So we set out for this little church (she often describes it as a "tiny congregation").  Maybe that's one of th reasons I was a little nervous.  I couldn't be anonymous there.  Would they notice us?  How would it feel?

We got to the church a little bit before 5:00 when worship would begin.  I discovered that, due to the heat, they were meeting in their small fellowship hall.  The sanctuary did not have air conditioning.  

And it WAS a small group.  I didn't count, but I think that there may have been twelve people, including us.  We were greeted warmly, and initial awkwardness disappeared during the first few minutes.

I noticed that the small room was filled -- with a couple of floor murals (one was a map of the world, one, I think was a large heart), a stand with candles, a table with notebooks, paper, crayons, playdoh, and some other things.  There were coloring sheets, and there was at least one art display.  There was also an outdoor labyrinth if anyone wanted to go outside in the heat and pray by walking.

The service opened simply, with a few instructions, a prayer, and a little singing without accompaniment.  They were simple songs, and some people sang in harmony (including us!).  The pastor read scripture, someone lead a responsive prayer, and then there were directions about how to use the next half hour for prayer and meditation.  There was one particular station that was new and related to praying for either a current event or based on a sermon theme for the summer (I don't remember which).  

I wondered what to do for a half hour, but my husband settled in quickly with colored pencils and a coloring page with the word "Alleluia" on it.  I walked around for a few minutes, stopping to light a candle at one station, putting a couple of candles on the map for places I wanted to pray for.  I noticed a large heart and then small pieces of paper with names of people and occupations on them -- words like "EMTs", "single parent families", "abuse survivors", "nurses", "teachers","clerks".... and many more.  The large notebooks that I saw earlier had many directions for ways to pray during this free time.  Afterwards, Pastor Kara said that the book had developed organically over time, as they discovered, learned and incorporated prayer practices that worked for them.  There were sheets of papers and pens; one of the options was simply to journal your prayers.  So, for the rest of the time, that is what I did.  I simply wrote my prayers, my worries, my hopes, to God.

Somewhere during this time it occurred to me how odd and wonderful this was:  I wasn't rushing through prayers to get to the next thing.  I was simply allowing myself to sit, and to be, and it didn't feel lazy, it felt full.  I was simply allowing myself to be in the presence of God.  Why don't I do this more often, I thought?   

A bell called us back together for closing prayers and a closing song.  A few people stayed to help clean up the room.  Some people said it was nice to have a couple of Lutherans worshipping with them (possibly because of my husband singing the bass parts).   I introduced myself to Pastor Kara, and told her I had just completed a spiritual direction program.  She said that she was a spiritual director too.

Just one hour.  That's all it was.  But somehow, in just being, in listening, in prayer, God found me.

The Holy Spirit on Sunday Morning

I'll be honest:  I was sort of worried about worship this Sunday.  I have been dealing with some neck and back pain of mysterious origin for the last month or so.  There are times when it doesn't bother me much, but there are times when I feel like the pain is draining all of the energy from me.  I put on a lidocaine patch and took pain medication and prayed for help from the Holy Spirit.

I put on the green stole that a member of my congregation made for me.  I have been wearing it for several weeks, but until this week, I had forgotten to mention anything to the members of the church. Today I boasted in the gift.

During the first song, some of the children came forward and played rhythm instruments, while the congregation sang "Lord, Reign In Me."  After that, a little girl stood in the center aisle and gave the Call to Worship while her grandmother recorded the moment.

For the children's message, I asked the children if they ever had to learn to do something that was hard.  Most of them didn't think that anything was hard for them (well, one little girl learned the meaning of a word that I couldn't even pronounce.)  I asked her what the word meant.  I'm not sure, but I think she said it meant 'thinking about thinking.'  Anyway, they were all scandalized that some of the disciples GAVE UP on following Jesus, because his teaching was too difficult.

"You should never give up," they said.

Then my sermon, and my aching back.  Somehow I thought there should be one more paragraph, but somehow the paragraph did not appear.

Then there was singing, and piano and the drum, and the xylorimba, and then we shared Holy Communion.

And then it happened.

Just as I was getting ready for the benediction, a woman from the congregation raised her hand, and said, "I need to say something. I have a prayer request."  She told us that she had just received a text message from one of her children, and that one of her grandchildren was being taken to the hospital, and that they were afraid.  And they would like us to pray.

So we did.  Before the benediction, we prayed together.  I invited people to come forward and surround her, and a few people came forward to lay hands on her.

And then I noticed something else:  so many of the children were coming forward too.  They came up to be a part of the prayer.  They came up to be ministers of the gospel.

It was a holy moment, and I was in awe.  Why did I worry about worship?  The Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness.  With sighs too deep for words.  With the hands and feet and voices of children.  We are the body of Christ.  We are children of God.  We pray for one another.

Still I wonder:  why did the children come?  What made them able to hear the call?  Was it because it was a child who needed prayer?  Was it because they have been encouraged to participate in other ways?  Was it the Holy Spirit, and they could hear better than we do?  As one person said to me later, "We are raising them better than ourselves."

All I know is this:  the children came.  The Holy Spirit showed up.  This is church.

Faith 5, Part 4: Praying for one another

Philippians 4:4-7

John 15:1-8

            Here’s a secret for you. The choir – up there in the choir loft – doesn’t just sing.  

            On Wednesday when they come, they do practice the songs and they learn the piece they will sing. But, they do something else, too. They pray.  

            Now sometimes they pray by singing – because some of the songs we sing actually ARE prayers…. Songs like “Spirit of God, Descend upon my Heart” or “Open the Eyes of my Heart Lord” --- actually many of our songs are prayers. 

             But that’s not what I mean.  At the end of our rehearsals, we have a devotion, and we ask for prayer requests, and we pray together.  

            We pray for one another. And – here’s another secret – it’s not just me doing the praying.  

            There’s a small group of us who take turns taking the prayer concerns and praying for each other.  

            So – We are on step four of the Faith 5 – PRAYER.   

            First we learned how important it is to share with one another our highs and lows, to share the concerns of our hearts, to build community in our families and in our congregation.  

            Then in step two, we learned to share scripture, share the Word of God with one another.  A verse a day, a story a week.  The word of God grounds us and helps us remember who we are.  

            Then we talk about it – we talk about Scripture and relate it to our lives.  And then finaly – well, almost finally, because there is one more step after this – finally, we pray together.  We pray for one another.  We pray WITH one another.  

            And prayer is so foundational for us – it’s one of the first things we learn, isn’t it?   

            When we baptize a child, as ask the parents and godparents to teach their children, “The Lord’s Prayer, the Creed, and the Ten Commandments.”  

            Prayer is first – not just the Lord’s prayer, but prayer in general.  Prayers at bedtime.  Prayers around the table, before we eat.  And in some ways it’s so easy, and in some ways it’s not.  

            What is prayer? There are all kinds of methods – and all kinds of ways to pray.  There are written-down prayers like we have in our worship book.  

            And there is the “five finger prayer” that I taught the children this morning.  

            Prayers can be beautiful and poetic, or they can be simple.    Author Anne Lamott said once that she really only knows three prayers – Help – Thanks – and Wow.   

            Every prayer can be reduced to one of these words.  Perhaps.

            At the heart of it, though, prayer is a conversation.  

            It is not a method, not a set of rules, but a relationship.   

            Prayer is sharing our worries, our cares, our thanks,  our joy – everything – with God.  

            And I know that many of us here have deep and rich prayer lives, and that we truly do try to take everything to God in prayer.  We pray for one another.  We pray for our children.  

            We pray for our congregation.  Maybe you even – on occasion – pray for your pastor.  

            But when I’m talking about the faith5, and the fourth step, “Prayer,” there’s this added layer, because we aren’t just praying for each other, privately, to ourselves.  It’s not like when someone says to me, after worship, “Pastor, will you pray for me,” and I promise to pray for them, and then I go home and pray.  

            This is when – as families, or with friends – we don’t just pray for each other, but we pray with each other too.     

            In choir, in our families, parents and children, in Bible study – we listen to one another’s joys and one another’s concerns, and then we pray.  And in that way, prayer binds us to God – and it binds us to one another. 

            Just as it takes trust to share with one another – it also takes trust to pray for one another -- 

            So one of the things I used to do with self-conscious students was to invite them just to say a word, or a name 

            – just to name a name of someone they were concerned about, or to say a word that named something they were thinking about – that’s the way we started, so that we could get used to hearing the sound of our own names, and know it was okay to speak.  

            Later on, we’d share more deeply, and pray more deeply as well – sharing secrets about friends we were concerned about, about the causes that gave our lives meaning.  

            So – right now, I’d like to try something – something small. 

             I’d like everyone here to think of a name.  Think of a name of someone you would like to pray for, for whatever reason.  Close your eyes and say that name to yourself.  

            Does everyone have a name?  Now – we are all going to say our names aloud – at the same time -- .  When I give the cue – Let us pray.  Gracious God, today we pray for…. (say the names.)  Hold them all in the palm of your hands.  Keep them and heal them and guide them, and do for them what is wise and compassionate.  AMEN.

            So – it is part of the forming of community to pray – and to share prayer.  

            To share the intercessions as we do on Sunday morning --  to share prayers of thanksgiving and praise – to share our confessions and failings – the hardest things, perhaps.  

            But it’s part of how we become community, Christian community – not just here, but in our homes, and among our friends, and in the world.   

            And praying together, and praying for one another strengthens our faith, helps our children have confidence in their praying, and strengthens our community too.  

            But I do have to add one thing – I don’t want to sweep anything under the carpet, in order to paint a rosy picture of praying.  

            And that’s the subject of prayers which are not answered, or not in the way we want.  

            And sooner or later, especially if we are learning to pray honestly, sooner or later that is going to happen to us.  And we have to be honest – that prayer is a great and intimate conversation, and that God guides us through prayer, and that we can come to God with anything – ANYTHING 

            – but what do we say when God doesn’t give us the answer – or the answer we want?  Especially, what do we say to a child?  

            But not just children… right?  We can come to God with ANYTHING, but sometimes, even though God loves us, the thing we think is best doesn’t happen, and we can’t understand.  

            We just have to keep believing that God loves us and will be with us, no matter what…. 

            And keep praying.  There’s a promise for us in the gospel reading today, that I think has to do with prayer.  

            Jesus says “I am the vine and you are the branches.” That means that always and always, he is holding on to us.  

             He is holding on to us, and because he is the vine, he is giving us his life.  That means that even our prayers, in the end, come from him.       And because he is the vine, and YOU ALL – are the branches, that means that our relationship with God is never just one to one.   

            We’re always praying together, even when we are alone.  

            Prayer bonds us to the one who has given us life – prayer bonds us to Jesus – but it bonds us to one another in the vine too

             – whether we are certain or doubting, whether we are young or old, no matter where we are in the body, we are bound together in Jesus, the vine.

AMEN

            

A Day

It is a beautiful day here.  Everyone says so.  On my local Christian radio station, they are singing the praises of this day, with its mild temperatures, blue skies and low humidity.  It is a day to take long walks with your dog, to take your coffee or your iced tea and sit outside, to revel in it.  Really beautiful days are rare.  This seems to be the case almost everywhere, although I have only lived in a few places.

Meanwhile, across the world, in Syria, a civil war rages.  I don't claim to understand everything about this, except that it is not beautiful.  There is so much horror and pain and people are fleeing but finding nowhere to go.  Just this week there was a chemical attack in Syria, across the world, and last night the United States sent Tomahawk missiles in retaliation.

When I was a teenager, it was popular to predict the imminent demise of the world.  All of the signs pointed to it.  Some people seemed to look forward to it.  But I didn't.  I just didn't understand that desire.  I loved the world.  I looked outside and saw it was a beautiful day.  I wanted a chance to grow up and have children and write books and see the world, or some parts of it, anyway.  I loved Jesus but I did not want him to come back, at least not right now.

Today, though, as I feel the sun on my face, I understand, a little.  I still love the world.  It is a beautiful day.  I love the parts of it that I have seen:  the Canadian Rockies, the streets of Paris, Mount Fuji and Galveston and Minnehaha Falls.  I love the faces of the children in my congregation and our school, and how they all want to pray for their dogs and their cats,  their dads and their moms.  I love the people at the assisted living center, especially the woman who told me that on the song, "Love Lifted Me" I could replace the word Love with God because God is love.  I love the world, but I feel the weight of all of the misery in it, too, and I want Jesus to come back and heal us, because I just don't believe we will ever figure it out.

I still want to make it better.  I think we need to do things to make it better, even if I don't know if they will help much, or at all.  Maybe bombing will help.  Maybe it won't.  I would take in a refugee family tomorrow.

Meanwhile, it is a beautiful day, and I still love the world.  And at the same time, I catch myself in a one-word prayer.

Maranatha.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Save us.

"Hosanna!"  It is the shout of Palm Sunday.

Evangelical

It was Saturday morning.  I was drinking coffee and having a breakfast sandwich in a local spot.  It was mid-morning, not crowded.  I had a beginning, a middle, and an end for the sermon, so I was feeling relatively calm.  I had brought a book and my paper and pencils.  I spent a little time coloring in a prayer icon I had made a few days before, praying again for the names on the paper.

A woman approached me, curious about what I was doing.  I felt a little sheepish.  I wondered, briefly, about the upcoming gospel reading from Matthew 6, and wondered if I was "practicing my piety before others, in order to be praised by them."  Maybe I should not have gotten my pencils out.  Nonetheless, I shared a little about the prayer process with her.  She thought it was a good idea.

She asked a couple more questions, and for some reason, it came up that I was a pastor.  I gave her my card.  She said that she had been studying at another Lutheran church in the area.  She had been Methodist before that, she said.  She read my card carefully, and then said, "What is it about that word 'evangelical'?  Why is everybody 'evangelical' these days?"

My card read that I am a pastor in the "Evangelical Lutheran Church of America."  It is a part of the definition of my denomination that we are "Evangelical," in some way or another.   I was not sure exactly why, but it seemed like the word rankled her.

"It's not a bad word, is it?" I said.  "It's a good word."

"It means good news," she said.

I suppose I understand why the word "Evangelical" could rankle some people.  It's possible that some people share the good news with the subtlety of a bludgeon, making it seem perhaps not like such good news after all.  Maybe the word Evangelical has come to be associated with people giving out tracts with vivid images of the fires of hell, although I am not sure why that is.

It just means good news.

I knew a three year old girl once who used to stand at the front door of the church and shout out, "Welcome to church!"  She shouted it out to everyone who came.  What did she know?  It was just good news to her.  I met a man who shared his testimony with me over hot dogs.  He was lost, but now was found, he said.  It was just good news to him.  He had been a scoundrel and a lout, and he found out he was of value to God.

It may be a word fraught with baggage, but evangelical is what we are.  We are hearing the good news, and sharing the good news, in hot dog joints and at the church door, in hospitals and parks, with colored pencils and songs and stories.  We are supposed to share it without partiality, too.  It is our job.  We are not told to scatter the seeds carefully, but with abandon.   That is what makes the news so good.

Evangelical.  It just means good news.  It is good news for the dying, and good news for the living.  It is good news for the louts, and good news for the pious.  We're all in the same boat.  We all wear the ashes, and the same Heart of Love has room for us all.

A Pause to Notice

Sometimes you just have to stop for a moment and look.

I did that one day this week.  I looked out the window and I saw an eagle soaring, and I just focussed on that eagle for awhile.  I watched how it soared effortlessly, noticed how wide its wingspan was, considered for a moment where it might be going.

And then it came to me how seldom I just stop -- and look -- and consider.  

More often than not I am moving, trying to stay active all the time, checking things off of my list.  There is a lot to do in life, after all.  Life is getting things done.  Or not.  And when I stop, I just stop.  I stop and go straight to bed.  I stop and turn on the television.   I don't look around, I don't notice what's going on, I don't see that beautiful huge eagle, or that child holding out the tiniest flower, or the look on the face of the clerk at the supermarket.

But when I found myself looking at that eagle, I realized how many things I don't notice, how many times I walk right by someone or something without paying any attention.  But it is really essential human activity.  Noticing gave me joy.  I felt human, and not separate, but connected with the world.  Just for a moment.

I believe this is true not only about eagles, but about our relationships with God, and with one another.  It is part of what worship is about.  Worship is not about doing, although we are doing things in worship.  Worship is the pause when we take time to notice, to acknowledge, to praise God.  Worship is the pause when we take time to look into the heart of God.  Worship is the pause.

And then we stop and look into the image of God in one another.  

Sometimes, you just have to stop for a moment and look.  Or maybe for more than a moment.  If you are lucky.

Wednesday Chapel

After a week up north visiting family, I flew back home to Texas on Tuesday.  Up in Minnesota everyone is getting ready for Rally Sunday and children were getting their backpacks blessed for the first day of school.  Down here in Texas we have already sent everyone back to school, including the children from our pre-school.

I missed chapel last week.  I did not want to miss seeing the children for two weeks in a row.  But my flight was delayed because of severe weather, and by the time I got back home, it was late.  I did not know what I would do for chapel the next day.  I couldn't remember what their Bible lesson was.

"Well, maybe we'll just sing and pray,"  I decided.  That is what we did.

I have a very old book about prayer that I like a lot.  I brought it with me, just a few of the pages marked.  I wrote down a few of the songs we like to sing (If you're happy and you know it... hug a friend!).  I will admit, that when Wednesday morning rolled around, I wished for just a moment that I had decided to sleep in.

But then we were all sitting on the chancel steps, and I was asking them, "When do you pray?  Where is a good place to pray?"

They prayed before bedtime, and they prayed in the morning with their friends.  They prayed when they ate, but they also prayed in the car and when they had a sleepover at their friends' house.  They could pray at their grandma's, and they could pray when they were afraid, too.

Right before chapel, I suddenly remembered what their Bible lesson for the week was.  I remembered that I had a mirror in the pulpit (long story), and grabbed it.  One little boy said, "What is that for?"  I said, "for later."

We continued to talk about prayer, and pray.  I showed a few pages of my old prayer book, with things they could pray for, or about:  water and fun and friends.  My favorite page was about sounds.  We gave thanks for sounds!  "What are your favorite sounds?"  I said.  "boing boing!"  "ding dong"  "Honk honk".  "Meow!"  and then..... "our voices."

Yes, I said.  "Our voices.  We are a sweet sweet sound in God's ear."

We said the Lord's prayer and sang again.  And then I took out the mirror, because I remembered that their Bible lesson this week was from Genesis, chapter one.  "Made in the image of God."   I took out the mirror and said that each of them was made in God's image.  And then I stood at the back of the chapel as they went back to their classes, and gave them a peek at the image of God, in their faces.

It was fun to show the mirror, one by one, and watch them look at themselves, and say the words, "You are made in the image of God".

It was almost as good as saying those other words, one by one, to each individually, "the body of Christ, given for you.  The blood of Christ, shed for you."

Made in the image of God.

A sweet sweet sound in God's ear.

I live to tell it.

Why I Go Over To the Pre-School

Because it is summer, I have not had as many chapel services at the pre-school, and I have been missing my regular dates with the children there.  I try to work in some free time visiting the classrooms, but it's hard.  We are working on so many things at the church right now:  getting people ready to visit homebound members with communion, working on a small group program for the fall, welcoming a group of new members to the congregation, planning worship and some new "All Ages Learning" for the fall.

But today, I took a break, and I went over to the pre-school for a little while.

It is in my letter of call, after all.  Right there in black and white, one of my responsibilities is "relating to the pre-school."

But that's not why I go.

It was lunch time when I walked in the door.  A couple of the classrooms were in the middle of their lunch.  As I approached their table, one little boy jumped up and ran to hug my legs.   A little girl came over and tugged on my skirt.  "I got so big!"  she said.  Two or three others said the same thing: "I got so big!"  they told me.  I agreed.   They are growing all the time.

I admired ribbons and new tennis shoes and t shirts with dinosaurs.  Students told me about baby brothers and puppies and everything they were excited about, which was everything.  When one group was done eating, another group arrived.  Their teacher asked if I would say table grace for them.

Some younger children came in as well, following their teacher like ducklings following their mama. When one little girl saw me, she waved as if I were her long-lost cousin.

I don't go over to the school as often as I should.  There are so many lists of things to do, strategies to accomplish, goals to achieve, and I forget that knowing the children is as important as any goal, task or strategy.

But today I remembered.  I remembered that my work is Grace and Grace is my work.  My work is loving the children and the shut ins, saying prayers and bringing bread and wine, and being there.  All of my lists and strategies are worthless if I forget.   I walked into the school and got hugged around the legs, and I remembered the grace of being known and loved for no particular reason, just because you are.

There are mysteries in the universe, and I am called to make them known, as they are made known to me.  It's not a strategy.  It's just love.  It's just the grace of God, which is being loved, just because you are.

What is Church?

Last week we held Vacation Bible School at our church.  We had a morning program, mostly for the children at our pre-school, a few of their older sisters and brothers, and a few of our congregation's children as well.

But this year, we added something new:  we offered two "family" evenings where we ate supper, learned to pray and share together, sang some Bible songs and did some crafts.  The theme of the week was "Jesus is the Light of the World", so some creative church members had created a scary cave that the children could walk through (but they had to do it with their parents).  There were glow-in-the-dark necklaces and candles to carry.  The children made pillowcases with a Bible verse.  They made glow-in-the-dark bracelets.  We sang "This Little Light of Mine" and a jazzed-up version of "I Have Decided to Follow Jesus" and learned some sign language.

Both nights were wildly successful.  The first night we had 83 people.  The second night was not as large, but we had so many opportunities to get to know each other that evening.  Everyone had fun both nights.

We invited them to come to church on Sunday and sing a couple of their Bible songs.

We had no idea what would happen, but we were excited.

On Sunday, only the families that were already members of our congregation came.

I have to admit, I was disappointed.  I wondered what I could have done differently.  I knew that many families are traveling on the weekends in the summer.  But still, I had hoped that one or two could join us for church.

Then, on Monday, I talked to our pre-school director.  She said something to me that made me think about the word "church".  It would have been nice if some of the families had come on Sunday, she said, but "what you did on Tuesday and Thursday night, THAT was church."

I thought about it.  What did we do on Tuesday and Thursday?  We ate. We prayed.  We shared our highs and lows.  We blessed each other.  We prayed.  We had fun.  We sang songs about Jesus.

She was right.  It was church.  We were the church, worshipping together.  What made us think it wasn't?  It wasn't Sunday morning, and we weren't in the sanctuary, but it was church.

What is church?

I think this is one of the hardest things for us to get our brains around these days.  What happens on Sunday in the sanctuary is important, but the sanctuary on Sunday morning is not the only church.  Maybe it's not even the most important church.  These days.

What is church?

Church is a holy gathering of people, and that was what was happening on Tuesday and Thursday evening, with parents and children and teenagers and grandmothers and grandfathers.  We didn't go far, just across the parking lot, but it was church over at the school those nights.

We didn't go far, but it was a start, and I hope we go farther, a holy gathering of people, sharing the light, being the church.

Prayers for Orlando, and for our Hearts

I am remembering the old days when I used to get up at 6:00 every Sunday morning and come downstairs, turn the radio on and write my Sunday prayers.  I would get a cup of coffee and sit on the floor by the coffee table with a sheet of paper folded in half in front of me.  National Public Radio always had a Sunday morning, "Voices in the News", on Sunday morning, and as I listened to that segment, I would consider what to pray for that morning.

It was a good discipline.  It helped me remember what had happened the past week, to be connected with the larger community and world.  Since it was a small congregation, and I was the solo pastor, all of the intercessory prayer responsibility on Sunday fell on me.

I have not listened to the news before church on Sunday morning for awhile.

So I did not know about what happened in Orlando, about the massacre at the nightclub, The Pulse, until after church.  I did not offer a prayer during worship.  I got a text from a friend after church.  That's how I found out.

And I know that we have to do more than prayer.  Prayer is not enough.  But it would have been a start, to have prayed on Sunday morning, if I had known.

So I wish that I had still had that old discipline, that I could sit on the floor and hear the news of the world on Sunday morning.  Because the news of the world needs to come to church, where we can repent, and lament, and ask God to change our hearts, so hard.

O God, heal us.
Is this who we are?  Show us the truth.
Comfort those who mourn.
They are so many, today.
Turn the hearts of those who hate.
Help us to see beauty, again, where we have seen it,
and where we have not noticed it,
because we were blind.
IN the name of your Son, Jesus,
who died, and who lives, for every single one of us.
AMEN

Sunday Morning

I don't know why I was so tired when I came to church on Sunday morning.  It was a beautiful day.  It was the second Sunday in Lent.  We were going to install our new church council at both services.  I had my sermon all ready:  "Animals of the Bible."  I felt good pretty good about it.

It's true, that the day before we had a Council Retreat, which was wonderful, and invigorating and exciting, where we dreamed some dreams for the coming year and maybe even saw a couple of visions too.  It was a wonderful day, and we were well-led, but I was surprised about how exhausted I felt at the end of it all.  Dreams and visions make you tired.

Then again, it might have been that last minute trip to buy some little toy chicks for the children's message.

Sunday morning I woke up and took my dog on an actual walk all around the apartment building.  For the first time in six weeks, I was without the boot.  But it made me a little later than usual for church, where I needed to get ready for the first service, set up for the first session of our new Adult study, and give instructions to the special musician (a pan-flute player who, as it turned out, did not speak English).

At the first service, I remember that I called Lent "Advent" once, during the announcements.  I think I stumbled over a few words of liturgy.  I hope nobody minded.

Everything ran a little late, so I raced over to the fellowship hall to begin the first session of the adult study.  It is on faith practices, and I was a little nervous about whether the series would go over.

The first session was on prayer.  I had a ten minute DVD and a couple of pages of notes and possible questions.  We were starting late, and I was giving an overview of the session.  But as soon as the DVD was over, I decided to ask for their initial reactions.

And you know what?  People started sharing, honestly, about what they heard or thought about prayer, whether they prayed all of the time, and easily, or had problems with prayer, whether they knew what to pray for, or were at a loss for words.  They shared barriers to prayer and what helped them with prayer.

My heart was strangely warmed.

After a little while, I realized that I did not want to cut this conversation off, even though the service ran late.  I asked them if we could take an extra week on prayer so that we could cover more of the lesson.

They all agreed, heartily.

Before I had to leave for the second service, I taught them something I used to use with confirmation classes:  a prayer called a "popcorn prayer."  I said it is a popcorn prayer because it is just one word, and you can pop up with that word anytime, and it is all right if people say their word at the same time, and when the popcorn stops popping, then you are done.  Then I told them they could close with the Lord's prayer.  I started them off, and as I hurried over to the second service, I could hear the popcorn prayers popping.

And my heart was strangely warmed.

Over at the second service, there was a guitarist and drummer, set to go.  A few people were settling in, with more to come, some after the service began.  We are currently "in interim" musically, at this service.  We are in the process for searching for a new music leader.  In the meantime, one of our young members has been a part of the interim team.  He started off the service with "Lord, I lift your name on High."  A little later we sang "Shout to the Lord."   And I could hear the voices of the congregation, singing with joy.

My heart was strangely warmed.

A baby fussed some, during the sermon.  I hope it was okay, but I stopped and said, not to worry -- it happens sometimes.  I didn't want the parents to feel bad.

Afterwards, I got so many compliments and comments about this young man, and how well he did.

I was so tired on Sunday morning.  I don't know exactly why.

But I know this.

My congregation held me up.  Their songs, their prayers, even the sound of the baby crying.

We are partners in the gospel.  Never let me doubt.

Prayer as a Strategy

Last fall, when we had our stewardship emphasis, we had a very strict program that we were supposed to follow.  There were letters that were supposed to go out, and specific sermons to be preached, and temples talks every Sunday.  There was a dinner for leaders and a celebration dinner for the congregation afterwards.  We did all these things.  There was also supposed to be a prayer vigil, which I thought was an awesome idea.

I forgot all about it.

I myself was praying fervently.  I am sure that everyone on the stewardship team was praying fervently.  I am pretty sure many people in the congregation were praying fervently.  And everything did come out all right.  But if I had to do it all again, I would not forget the prayer vigil.

Prayer was part of the stewardship strategy, which sounds like a weird thing to say.  After all, prayer is not magic.  It is not a magic formula for having all of our dreams come true, whether personal, congregational or global.  It's not something we do to get our way.  It's also not for "sounding religious" in front of God or other people.  I think about the prophets, who sometimes told the people that God "hated" their solemn assemblies.

Yet prayer is necessary, but for different reasons.

I have confessed before and I will confess again that I don't feel like I am in the top ten of pastors who pray.  I pray, and I frequently stumble, and I am not known for long prayers either.  I pray in my own words, and sometimes I pray using the words of prayers written long before I was born.  Sometimes the honest prayers of my own heart are just the thing I need to come before God.  Sometimes, when I use those prayers written a long time ago by someone else, I discover that there were things I needed to pray about, but I didn't even know it.

That's the Holy Spirit for you.

Prayer is necessary, and sometimes we do change God's mind.  But more often, prayer is necessary, because, for one thing, it can change our mind.  When we pray, when we ask God for help, when we confess, when we give thanks, we are first of all acknowledging a power and a source and an imagination much greater than our own.

Prayer is a strategy for confessing the reality of our dead ends and black holes.  It is a strategy for when we see that there are no options left, and it is a strategy for when we are sure we have all the answers, because God is sure to let us know (somehow) that we don't.  Prayer is a strategy for opening us up to God's dreams and plans, to God's imagination.  It is a strategy for listening to God, and acknowledging that God is in the world, in our lives, in the room, even and especially when we don't see God.

What to Pray For

For snow, rain or sunshine.

travelers, pilgrims, wanderers.
For the smallest blade of grass,
the widest canyon's chasm
and the river that cuts it.
The spaces between people.
For peace.

For the breath you hold.
For breath.
For the silence when you yearn to hear your name.
Your name.
For the flower, that it not be crushed.
The bruised reed, that it not be broken.

For the song not to end
the last pure note to go on and on
until the last outcast hears it
and arrives for the feast.

"Holding on, Loosely" -- a sermon on Generosity, for All Saints Day

John 11/Psalm 24

            Today is All Saints Day – and I can’t help thinking that every one of us has at least one person we are remembering today 

            -- at least one person for whom we will light a candle, at least one person for whom we give thanks because they were ‘saints'  for us

            – they let the light of God’s love shine through them in some way or another. 

            Today is All Saints Day – a day when it has become our custom to name those who have died in the past year – and also to light candles for others who we remember, who we call saints. 

            Saints.  No matter how many times I say it, it still seems odd, at least I some ways. 

            Because we associate the word ‘saint’ with those extraordinary heroes of the faith.  “I’m not a saint!”  Are you a saint?

             It can be a problem, this word.  What is a saint, anyway?  

            Whatever you think, today is a day to remember people in our lives that have been gifts to us, in one way or another. 

            We call them ‘saints.’ 

            But what is it about them that makes them a saint…. I have been thinking about that this week, and I have been thinking about my dad.             

He is one of my saints, even though he would also be someone who would claim, “I’m not a saint!” 

            He is one of my saints, because his life is a gift for which I give thanks, because he taught me so much:  about faith, about love, about holding on, loosely.   

            He loved to laugh, to tell jokes, and to sing, even though he didn’t know all of the words. 

            His favorite Bible passage, he liked to tell me, was from John 11:  “Jesus wept.”

             He said it with a twinkle in his eye. 

            Not only did this verse say a lot about Jesus – but it also was short and easy to remember.  My dad.

             He used to stand next to me in church, singing with strong baritone, helping me find my place so that I could sing along.  My dad.      He and my mom told us Bible stories, and taught how to pray.        Except that my dad had a special way of teaching us. 

            He would sit down at the edge of our beds, and he would talk to us in this creaky old voice, and say, “I am Methusalah, the world’s oldest man.” 

            He would claim to know Abraham and Moses and David.

             But he was sooo old that he would forget or fall asleep during the Lord’s prayer, so that we had to supply the missing words.  My dad. 

            “I’m not a saint,” he would probably say.  He belonged to God, and the light of God shined through him.

            You might wonder, on this day, why we are reading Psalm 24.        John 11 makes sense.

             It is about the hope we have as Christians, what makes us saints.  But why are we reading from Psalm 24 as well? 

            Probably it is assigned for All Saints Day because of the verse about having clean hands and pure hearts, but I can’t help noticing the verse first verses today. 

            They are good verses for All Saints Day too.

             “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world and those who live in it.” 

            Everything belongs to God – and we belong to God too. 

            We come from God, and we go back from God.

             In the middle – is the gift.  We are gifts to one another. 

            We are gifts to God, too.  Hold your life, loosely.

             My dad did that.  He took Jesus very seriously.  Himself – not so much. 

            When I first learned that we would be in the middle of our stewardship campaign on All Saints Day, I worried. 

            I didn’t’ want something like “Stewardship” to get in the way of remembering the saints and giving thanks for their lives.

             I didn’t want something like money getting in the way of talking about saints as those who trust Jesus and hold their lives loosely. 

            But the more I thought about it, the more I had to wonder why.     What is it about money that makes me want to avoid the subject?            Is it because I have to admit that there are times when I have been good at giving – but there have also been times when I have been bad at giving?

             Is it because I know that money is a touchy subject for all of us, including me?

             I almost have an easier time confessing when I haven’t been so good at prayer – than I do my failures in financial stewardship.

            But you see -- giving – whether money or time or talent – but we are talking about money right now – is a spiritual discipline, like prayer.  We don’t do it so that God will love us more – God couldn’t possibly love us more than God already does. 

            We don’t do it because we have to – but we do it – we give – because God already holds our lives so tightly, because God weeps with us, and rejoices over us, and when we give – we are able to hold our lives a little more loosely. 

             And the two things – that are important in the spiritual discipline called giving are that we give regularly,  and that we give proportionately. 

            We give regularly so that it becomes a habit.  We just get used to it. 

            We get used to it in the same way as we get used to opening our hands and receiving the bread and wine for communion:  Jesus’ life and forgiveness, for us. 

            We get used to it in the same way we get used to folding our hands and bowing  our heads in prayer.   And when we get used to it… it gets down into us, so that, when a young man who grew up in this church got a bonus from his company recently, the first thing he thought of was to share a portion of it with his faith community.

            The second discipline involved in giving is that it be proportional – that is we give according to what we have, not what we don’t have.

             I know a woman who was very intentional about giving more – because she knew her congregation – her church family – well enough – and loved them well enough  -- to know that she could do it while others  – could not. 

            She gave proportionately, according to what she had.

            And the third discipline – did I say there were only two? 

            The third is joy.  Give joyfully. 

            Because your names are written in the book of life. 

            Because God holds your life so tightly.

             Because the whole world, and everything in it, belongs to God.  Because life, in all its terror and all its beauty, is a gift. 

            Because you get to hold babies, to wade in oceans, to break bread, to sing, to hear the stories of your parents, your children, your grandchildren.

            Because this is your church family – because we belong to one another --

             Because the sign of the cross is marked on your forehead.    Because Jesus wept, and rose from the dead. 

            And because God promises – that God will take your life – your whole life – every single part of you, including your finances – and used it to proclaim the glory of God. 

            And the light of Christ will shine through you – through us – as a congregation. 

            Give regularly.  Give proportionately.  Give joyfully.  Joyfully.

            I can’t help thinking today as I am remembering – there was this time I was a young adult, and I was just out of the nest.  And this terrible (I thought it was terrible) thing happened one night.

             It was dark, and I was trying to lock my car out on the street, and the key got stuck in the lock. 

            And I pulled and I pulled and I pulled and the key broke in there.  I went up to my apartment and I called my dad.

             What else could I do?  I explained my dilemma and said I didn’t know if I could afford a locksmith. 

            And he said, ‘Oh, don’t worry.  I’ll give you money.”  And I said, ‘Dad, you don’t have any money.” 

            And he laughed and said, “Oh yeah, that’s right.” 

            I was so depressed.  And I thought it was the end of the world.

            And my dad made me laugh.   

            He was willing to give me what he had – and what he didn’t have.  And he would do it joyfully – -- and sacrificially --because he loved me.     He held his life loosely. 

            But he held mine tightly. 

            Who do you love – that much?

            Hold your life, loosely.

            It’s the only way you can ever hold it, anyway.

            That’s what so many of the saints have taught me -- by the way the lived, by the way they died – by how they gave.

            Their lives belong to God.

            And the light of Christ still shines in them.

            AMEN

           

                            

Kairos

Sunday was Confirmation Day for eleven young people in my congregation.  It is just two weeks before my last Sunday as pastor here.

Because my time here is winding down, and because the pre-confirmation retreat was the same weekend that I had both a funeral and a wedding, I was not able to be with the confirmation students at their retreat.  I missed being a part of their day writing their faith statements, creating their banner, designing their worship service.

But on Sunday morning, I still got to be there, to be with them, to speak some words to them, to say their names, to witness their promises.

I saw them as they processed in together with their parents.  They each stopped in front of the baptismal font, where their parents marked them with the sign of the cross.  I saw tears.  And I felt tears.

Before the service, I was checking over parts with the other pastor, who was preaching.  I asked who was reading the lessons, and discovered that the parts were open.  I asked three of the confirmands if they would read, and they each said yes.

So, that morning, we heard so clearly and so passionately that for everything there is a season.  We heard that we were buried and raised with Christ in baptism, and now walk in newness of life.  We heard that we are light, and that our purpose is to shine.

The message that morning was about Kairos time -- not the same as the time on our watches, not chronological time, but the right time, the acceptable time, the time of opportunity.  "it is your time," he said to the confirmands.  "It is your time to serve, your time to follow Jesus, your time to say yes to the grace and beauty and love of God in your life."  Those aren't the exact words, but that is what I heard.

This is your time -- the right time, the acceptable time.  That's the message that the confirmands heard, but not just those eleven students.  Is it the right time for us as well?  Who is Jesus calling us to be?  How is Jesus calling us to follow?

In two weeks my time here in this congregation will finish.  I will not be their pastor any more.  I will go to be pastor in another place, to other people.  I will help them dream dreams, follow Jesus, grow in grace.  It is the right time.

At the close of the service, the eleven young people processed down the center aisle to the back of the church.  I followed them.  A woman in the back of the church, someone I didn't know, grabbed my arm.  This was her first time in our church, and she asked if I would pray for her, and for her mother, and for their relationship, and for all kinds of healing.  I asked her name, and her mother's name.  She told me.  We took each other's hands.  And there were tears.  She said, I'll be back.

In the meantime, I am here.  Here with the water and the word and the tears, and the names that I know, and the names of strangers.  Here where we pray and heal each other in the power and compassion of Jesus.  It is the right time.