This morning I opened my door expecting a fresh breeze. Instead it felt a little muggier than usual. Still, it was time to walk my dog, so we went for a walk.
It is fall here, so they say. It is hard for me to notice the signs, because where I am from, the leaves are turning and the evenings have become chilly. I am used to these signs, even when I grumble that fall arrives too soon and foretells a deep and dark and long snowy winter.
Here, the signs are subtler. I can still wear my shorts, if I want to, even though it is fall.
I am not sure I want to, some days.
So, this morning, I took my dog out for a walk. It was warm and still and the dog (who is a good sport, even at 10 years old) bounced around and sniffed everything.
And then, we turned around.
It was not my idea, actually, this 'turning around' thing, but I went along with it, and when I did, I felt it right away.
It was a breeze: a lovely cool breeze that I never noticed until we turned, until we changed directions. It was always there, but we needed to change directions to find it, to feel it.
The breeze was a small thing, but that is the way it is sometimes. There are big changes, like turning around, and there are small things, like feeling the breeze, the wind of the Holy Spirit, who has always been with us, although we don't often notice.
I was at a conference most of last week. The geography was so much different than here, and so much different than my home state as well. We were up in the mountains, where the air is thin and you have to take deep gulps and slow down, where you can feel your heart beat and see the beauty all around.
We were talking about worship and faith formation, about the children in our churches, but not just the children. We were talking about how to faithfully minister to all ages in a way that only the church can do: by being together, by using the gifts of all the generations. This does not sound like a big thing, but it represents a change in direction for us. The church has gotten into the habit of segregating people by age much of the time. Even in worship. So we are thinking about how we might really honor the gifts and needs of all generations in worship, use our imaginations and our dreams, our bodies and our souls.
Today, I felt a breeze, a small reminder that the seasons change, that the Holy Spirit is among, and within us, to keep me on my course, changing my direction.
Showing posts with label small. Show all posts
Showing posts with label small. Show all posts
Monday, October 12, 2015
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Learning to See: God-sightings, Part 2
As our informal summer outdoor worship service, "picnic church", winds down, we have added one additional element to our weekly order of service. " God-sightings", it is called. Instead of bird-watching, keeping an eye out for cardinals, or sparrows, or even the occasional catbird, we are to keep our eyes open for God, lurking about in our lives and neighborhoods.
Two weeks ago, we introduced "God-sightings" after our high school students returned from their annual mission trip. We asked two of the young people to share a bit of their experiences, and called them "God-sightings." Easy-peasy.
The next week, after the message and after the scripture reading, we asked again. We began by affirming that God is with us through every aspect of our lives. God is in the world. God is very near, we reminded people. Then we asked the question, "Where have you seen God lately?"
There was an awkward silence. I felt a little disappointed. Hadn't anyone seen God in the last week? God really is all around us.
I realized later that it perhaps was not a fair experiment. We don't have a lot of practice in my faith tradition talking about where we have seen God. Even I didn't realize until an hour after the service that I could have testified that I saw God at two weddings the previous weekend. Four people were brave and foolish enough to pledge lifelong faithfulness to one another, holding hands out on a hot and humid Saturday afternoon. I saw God in those four hands, and heard God's voice in those promises. But it took awhile to remember, even for me.
I also realized a deep truth from my own faith tradition: yes, God is everywhere, God is very near, but God is also hidden. Sometimes God is very hidden, especially in the dark tragedies of so many current events these days, in the personal griefs and fears of our lives. Why should I be surprised when it is not automatically easy to testify about where you have seen God hiding during the past week? God is everywhere, but not obvious. Seeing takes practice. Speaking about what we have seen also takes practice.
With these realizations in mind, here are a few practices that might help us to see God:
1. Begin with prayer. It is as simple as the request of blind Bartimaeus, outside Jericho. What do you want me to do for you?, Jesus asks him. "My teacher, let me see again," he replies. That's all. Just "My teacher, let me see again." And then, let Jesus teach us.
2. Go small. Go for the fleeting glimpses, for the whispers, not the shouts. If God is present (as we say) in water, bread and wine, God is present in other small, and ordinary things. And people. The cardinal may only be in your front yard for a moment, not long enough to take a picture -- and yet, yes, in the cardinal I recognize something. A tongue of flame, perhaps? A moment of glory. I love the beginning of Luke, Chapter 3. While Luke sets the scene and the timing by telling us all about who was emperor of Rome, and who was governor, and who was ruler in Judea, he goes on to say that the word of the Lord came to "John, in the wilderness." Rather than in the seats of power, where everyone expected the action to be, the people saw God out in the wilderness, standing in the river Jordan.
3. Look not for individuals, but relationships. Pay attention to service, acts of mercy, small sacrifices, what we do for love. Imagine what "grace" would look like, if grace were a painting, or a sculpture, or a movie.
Once, long ago, I was at an outdoor concert. I saw a couple not far from me, a man in a wheelchair, along with his wife. At the start of one of a song, I noticed from the corner of my eye, that she began to dance with him, moving the wheelchair gracefully. They turned in circles together, moving to the music, pirouetting back and forth. I saw God then. I saw God in the dance.
4. Pay attention not just to success, but to failure. Pay attention to what is broken. Pay attention to the broken pieces, the shards, the tears, and to joy. Pay attention to what, and who, needs healing. Pay attention to what is bent over.
I see God every week in a man from my congregation. He walks bent over. I know the reason why. I knew his wife, who had contracted polio as a young mother. She recovered, but later on contracted post-polio syndrome. Every week they came to church together, and he had to help her, to carry her. They also often went out to concerts and theatre. For many years he lifted her and carried her. Now he walks bent over. And I see God.
Where have you seen God this week?
Two weeks ago, we introduced "God-sightings" after our high school students returned from their annual mission trip. We asked two of the young people to share a bit of their experiences, and called them "God-sightings." Easy-peasy.
The next week, after the message and after the scripture reading, we asked again. We began by affirming that God is with us through every aspect of our lives. God is in the world. God is very near, we reminded people. Then we asked the question, "Where have you seen God lately?"
There was an awkward silence. I felt a little disappointed. Hadn't anyone seen God in the last week? God really is all around us.
I realized later that it perhaps was not a fair experiment. We don't have a lot of practice in my faith tradition talking about where we have seen God. Even I didn't realize until an hour after the service that I could have testified that I saw God at two weddings the previous weekend. Four people were brave and foolish enough to pledge lifelong faithfulness to one another, holding hands out on a hot and humid Saturday afternoon. I saw God in those four hands, and heard God's voice in those promises. But it took awhile to remember, even for me.
I also realized a deep truth from my own faith tradition: yes, God is everywhere, God is very near, but God is also hidden. Sometimes God is very hidden, especially in the dark tragedies of so many current events these days, in the personal griefs and fears of our lives. Why should I be surprised when it is not automatically easy to testify about where you have seen God hiding during the past week? God is everywhere, but not obvious. Seeing takes practice. Speaking about what we have seen also takes practice.
With these realizations in mind, here are a few practices that might help us to see God:
1. Begin with prayer. It is as simple as the request of blind Bartimaeus, outside Jericho. What do you want me to do for you?, Jesus asks him. "My teacher, let me see again," he replies. That's all. Just "My teacher, let me see again." And then, let Jesus teach us.
2. Go small. Go for the fleeting glimpses, for the whispers, not the shouts. If God is present (as we say) in water, bread and wine, God is present in other small, and ordinary things. And people. The cardinal may only be in your front yard for a moment, not long enough to take a picture -- and yet, yes, in the cardinal I recognize something. A tongue of flame, perhaps? A moment of glory. I love the beginning of Luke, Chapter 3. While Luke sets the scene and the timing by telling us all about who was emperor of Rome, and who was governor, and who was ruler in Judea, he goes on to say that the word of the Lord came to "John, in the wilderness." Rather than in the seats of power, where everyone expected the action to be, the people saw God out in the wilderness, standing in the river Jordan.
3. Look not for individuals, but relationships. Pay attention to service, acts of mercy, small sacrifices, what we do for love. Imagine what "grace" would look like, if grace were a painting, or a sculpture, or a movie.
Once, long ago, I was at an outdoor concert. I saw a couple not far from me, a man in a wheelchair, along with his wife. At the start of one of a song, I noticed from the corner of my eye, that she began to dance with him, moving the wheelchair gracefully. They turned in circles together, moving to the music, pirouetting back and forth. I saw God then. I saw God in the dance.
4. Pay attention not just to success, but to failure. Pay attention to what is broken. Pay attention to the broken pieces, the shards, the tears, and to joy. Pay attention to what, and who, needs healing. Pay attention to what is bent over.
I see God every week in a man from my congregation. He walks bent over. I know the reason why. I knew his wife, who had contracted polio as a young mother. She recovered, but later on contracted post-polio syndrome. Every week they came to church together, and he had to help her, to carry her. They also often went out to concerts and theatre. For many years he lifted her and carried her. Now he walks bent over. And I see God.
Where have you seen God this week?
Friday, December 12, 2008
Big and Small...
Sadly, I didn't get to the Friday Five today, although today's entry did get me thinking (always a dangerous thing, for me at least). Today's Friday Five was all about eyes, and seeing, and it got me thinking about what kind of vision church leaders need to have as they call disciples into God's future.
It seems to me that we need to be able to see both big -- and small.
Sometimes it seems to me that the problem is the church is that we don't dream big enough. We are content with small dreams of a few more children in Sunday School; a few new members every year, a new program implemented every other year or so. But God's hope for us is big: God's hope is that we become more welcoming, more inclusive, that we reflect more and more what God's kingdom really looks like. God sees every person in our community as precious and beautiful and beloved. God sees us respecting each other and forgiving each other and helping each other to live a good life. I want our congregation to reflect that dream.
But sometimes it seems to me that the problem with the church is that we don't see small enough. Sometimes we get discouraged about where we are right now -- some of us don't pray enough, and others of us don't seem to have time to be involved in issues of justice in the community, and few of us have the time to be involved in a formal Bible study. But that's because we don't see the small signs of faith, and the small signs of faithfulness, the small signs of God's movement in the congregation.
They don't see the young woman who is joining the youth mission trip for the first time this year. They don't hear the stories of young families who want to live here because they want their children to live and learn in a diverse, multi-ethnic community. They don't talk to the woman who has cultivated relationships with members of the hispanic congregation that worships here.
There are times I wonder if the church will go on. There are times that I think if it does, it will be totally because of God's grace and love and forgiveness, not because of any special virtuosity of ours. I think of many ways the church is "blowing it" -- we have our fingers in our ears, and we are closing our eyes to the pain of the world, and we are not answering the questions of the world.
There are times I wonder if the church will go on. Will young people in the next generation think that it is important to come to a church, and to sing songs and liturgy and pray together with other people, and see this vision and work for this vision of a holy kingdom of love? It seems so old-fashioned.
But then I see a few pictures in my mind: I see a picture of two young girls, sitting together in the first pew of Small Church, South Dakota. They have the worship book open in front of them, and they are singing at the top of their lungs. I also see a picture of a young couple whose wedding I conducted a few years ago. She was from a church background, but he wasn't. They moved away for graduate school a few years ago. I finally caught up with them and discovered that they now have two small children, and are active members of a city congregation. I also see pictures of the people from India who have started attending our congregation, reminding us of all the places that God is working.
Sometimes I think that the problem with the church is that we don't see big enough. And sometimes I think that the problem is that we don't see small enough -- to see that in the midst of our dreaming, or our lack of dreaming, God is at work in us and among us, to bring peace and grace and love -- finally and forever -- to earth.
It seems to me that we need to be able to see both big -- and small.
Sometimes it seems to me that the problem is the church is that we don't dream big enough. We are content with small dreams of a few more children in Sunday School; a few new members every year, a new program implemented every other year or so. But God's hope for us is big: God's hope is that we become more welcoming, more inclusive, that we reflect more and more what God's kingdom really looks like. God sees every person in our community as precious and beautiful and beloved. God sees us respecting each other and forgiving each other and helping each other to live a good life. I want our congregation to reflect that dream.
But sometimes it seems to me that the problem with the church is that we don't see small enough. Sometimes we get discouraged about where we are right now -- some of us don't pray enough, and others of us don't seem to have time to be involved in issues of justice in the community, and few of us have the time to be involved in a formal Bible study. But that's because we don't see the small signs of faith, and the small signs of faithfulness, the small signs of God's movement in the congregation.
They don't see the young woman who is joining the youth mission trip for the first time this year. They don't hear the stories of young families who want to live here because they want their children to live and learn in a diverse, multi-ethnic community. They don't talk to the woman who has cultivated relationships with members of the hispanic congregation that worships here.
There are times I wonder if the church will go on. There are times that I think if it does, it will be totally because of God's grace and love and forgiveness, not because of any special virtuosity of ours. I think of many ways the church is "blowing it" -- we have our fingers in our ears, and we are closing our eyes to the pain of the world, and we are not answering the questions of the world.
There are times I wonder if the church will go on. Will young people in the next generation think that it is important to come to a church, and to sing songs and liturgy and pray together with other people, and see this vision and work for this vision of a holy kingdom of love? It seems so old-fashioned.
But then I see a few pictures in my mind: I see a picture of two young girls, sitting together in the first pew of Small Church, South Dakota. They have the worship book open in front of them, and they are singing at the top of their lungs. I also see a picture of a young couple whose wedding I conducted a few years ago. She was from a church background, but he wasn't. They moved away for graduate school a few years ago. I finally caught up with them and discovered that they now have two small children, and are active members of a city congregation. I also see pictures of the people from India who have started attending our congregation, reminding us of all the places that God is working.
Sometimes I think that the problem with the church is that we don't see big enough. And sometimes I think that the problem is that we don't see small enough -- to see that in the midst of our dreaming, or our lack of dreaming, God is at work in us and among us, to bring peace and grace and love -- finally and forever -- to earth.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)