I took Scout to her second agility class yesterday. There are only three in the class, which my husband says is a good teacher/student ratio. However, one of the three is an over-achieving Jack Russell Terrier, who can do the entire course in about 12 seconds. Scout has issues with the teeter, which scares her, and she doesn't really understand "weaving." It's been a year since her last class, so I suppose I should cut her a little slack. Also, yesterday, she really wanted to play with the other two dogs (and the trainer, I think) much more than she wanted to "study".
Last night we watched the movie, August Rush. Heavily sentimental, and I was surprised that the authors did not give credit to Oliver Twist for large chunks of the plot. However, the music is lovely, and there was one piece of dialogue that stopped me in my tracks:
Wizard (Robin Williams charcter, modelled on Fagin): What do you want to be in the world? I mean the whole world. What do you want to be? Close your eyes and think about that.
August (11 year old orphan who has run away, looking for his parents): FOUND.
Today our outdoor service was held indoors due to rain. We held our annual event to honor veterans between the services. The last three to be honored were World War II vets, but this year's honoree was a young man who had served in Iraq. The person who gave him the award noted that this is a different kind of war than that fought in World War II; no islands or cities to take; the enemy is not before you, but beside or even behind you. He also noted that that we are not hearing stories of heroism from Iraq, and speculated that this might be because the war is unpopular. That may be so, but I also suspect that we don't hear stories for the reason he first mentioned: because this is a different kind of war.
At our second service, we honored high school graduates with a special ceremony, one we designed shortly after I arrived here. We call all the graduates who are present to come forward with their parents. First we have the parents lay their hands on their children, and bless their children. Then we ask the parents to kneel, and have their children lay their hands on their heads, and say a blessing for them. I really love this action, where children bless their parents. And today the graduates who showed up were five young women who were all in the same confirmation small group. They have remained close friends, even though they are from different communities and go to different schools.
They say the weather here right now is "unsettled." We are in an "unsettled" weather system, which means we have been having thunderstorms and rain off and on for several days, with brief periods of sunshine interspersed. It's not awfully warm, but it's been very humid, and the grass is growing faster than weeds. (the weeds are growing pretty fast, too).
By the way, what do you think of my new blog design? I have been thinking about "typepad' lately, but it might be too hard for me.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Sunday Sermon
"A Hospital for Sinners"
Matthew 9:9-13 and following...
A long time ago someone gave me a piece of friendly advice, somewhere along the lines of "how to resist temptation." It went like this: "Don’t go anywhere you’d be ashamed to have Jesus go with you." At first glance, that seemed to be pretty good and practical advice – and destined to keep a conscientious person out of dark taverns, back alleys, and away from bad company. "Don’t go anywhere you’d be ashamed to have Jesus go with you." This is really good advice for a young person, I think – how to be an upstanding Christian, and a good role model for others. But then I started thinking – thinking about all the places that Jesus went, and all of the people Jesus associated with. You know, lepers, prostitutes, tax collectors, thirsty Samaritan women and curious Pharisees. I thought about the story we just heard, the one about Matthew sitting at his tax booth, and how Jesus called him, "follow me." And I thought about how after that it’s reported that Jesus is eating and drinking with "sinners" and tax collectors (perhaps some of Matthew’s friends), and the Pharisees – you know, the ones who are careful about where they go and who they associate with – ask some of his other disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?" It’s the question of people who understand my friend’s advice: "Don’t go anywhere you’d be ashamed to have Jesus go with you." They understand that this is good advice, if you want to be righteous, if you want to lead a good life, if you want to stay out of trouble. It’s the kind of advice we give our children, because we want them to stay out of trouble. But it also got me thinking, is that what it means to be a Christian and a follower of Jesus: that we stay out of trouble?
That’s the perception of the Pharisees, who are concerned with righteousness, with living a righteous life. We like to criticize them now, but for most of us, I think that we are still concerned with living a righteous life, aren’t we? Whether our version of ‘righteousness’ consists of regular church attendance (something I heartily endorse, by the way) and constant prayer, whether it consists in ‘healthy living’ – eat right, don’t drink, don’t smoke, whether it consists in trying to live a balanced life, whether it consists in a deep study of the Bible, whether it consists in a life of service to others, or advocacy for those oppressed, we are all, in one way or another, concerned with living a ‘righteous life.’ And Jesus, overhearing the question of the Pharisees, a legitimate question for people concerned with righteous living, blows them out of the water with his response: "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners."
Someone has said that there are two ways of looking at the church: That it is a gathering of saints, or a hospital for sinners. And of course, there is truth in both views – we who gather here today are God’s saints – we are God’s chosen and holy people, set apart for a particular purpose in the world. That’s what it means to be a saint. But oftentimes, when we think of the church as a gathering of saints, we also think about ourselves as people who are concerned about righteousness – our own and other people’s. We become concerned with ‘holy living’, which translates, in one way or another, into ‘staying out of trouble.’
A while ago I read a survey about health care which was done in Great Britain. You may or may not know that in Great Britain health care is universal -- free for everyone. However, the survey questioned the wisdom of this, and asked whether people who smoke, drink a lot, or eat poorly ought to pay for their own coverage. The title of the article I read was "Should sinners be made to pay?" And a lot of people who took the survey said, "Yes." After all, they reasoned, most people know the consequences of these behaviors, and the costs affect everyone, even those of us who take care of ourselves and stay out of trouble. However, the article’s author argued that this thinking is far too simplistic. It doesn’t take into account genetic factors for certain diseases – how some people can smoke for forty years and never get cancer, and others who have never smoked get smoking-related diseases. And, the author pointed out, what would probably happen is that many people wouldn’t pay – they just wouldn’t seek treatment, and, the author writes, ‘we would end up with a two-tier system such as in the United States where the most needy are excluded from the best care.’
We are all, in one way or another, concerned about righteous living, about holy living, but oftentimes the result is the same in the church as in the world: those who are most needy are excluded from the best care. So, there is another way of looking at the church: rather than a gathering of saints, we can look at the church as a hospital for sinners. This seems to be the way Jesus is looking at it, when he tells the Pharisees, ‘those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.....For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.’
Not the righteous, but sinners. And lest we not realize the radical nature of this statement, consider who is included in ‘sinners’. There’s Matthew the tax collector, working for the Romans and cheating his own people. There’s the Samaritan woman who was married five times. Jesus comes for them, and for others as well, whether street people or corporate executives, addicts and AIDS victims, immigrants and wanderers and workaholics, the judgmental and the lackadaisical. Jesus comes to call sinners, and to call them to get up and follow him. Jesus comes to call sinners, and when we consider the church only as a gathering of saints, we run the risk of excluding the very people who need his care the most. We also run the risk of making the church into a great "self-help" center, where we are expected to heal ourselves by our own pursuit of righteousness. When we call the church a hospital, a hospital for sinners, we can see clearly our own need, and confess that only Christ can say the word, only Christ can heal us, only Christ can raise us from the dead, so that can get up and live, daily returning to the source of our healing and life. When we call the church a hospital, we realize our utter helplessness and the power of God’s love and forgiveness in our lives. As Martin Luther once said, "So we are now under the Physician’s care. The sin, it is true, is wholly forgiven, but it has not been wholly purged.... the Holy Spirit must cleanse the wounds daily."
The church is not a gathering of saints, but a hospital for sinners. You may worry that this seems a passive view, that if this is so, we might run the risk of seeing ourselves only as receiving care, but not as giving care to one another, or to others. And I admit, that this is a risk, when we think that way, until I think of a friend of mine, who has endured several hospitalizations, and so it quite familiar with hospitals. I remember one time when I visited her, that she had been carrying on quite a conversation with the woman in the next bed, and had found out some of her new friend’s concerns and worries and hopes. She invited all of us to pray together on that day, both giving and receiving God’s blessing. She realized that in God’s hospital, we are all both sinners in need of healing, and ministers empowered to share God’s blessings.
There is one more risk involved in seeing the church as primarily a gathering of saints, and that’s the risk of seeing ‘righteousness’ as ‘staying out of trouble.’ It’s the risk of seeing ‘righteousness’ as something we do by eating right, praying and staying away from the wrong people. In truth, righteousness is a free gift given to us in the love and mercy of God, and through the death and resurrection of Jesus. We are made righteous when Jesus looks at us, and calls our names, ‘Follow me.’ "Little girl, get up.’ ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well.’ And the result of Jesus’ call might be just the opposite of staying out of trouble. After all, we follow Jesus, who fed the hungry and ate with sinners, who forgave sins, who befriended the poor, and made the powerful angry. After all, we follow Jesus, who came into this troubled world to live and die as one of us, to heal us and to raise us and to gather us together as his own. You can’t say that he ever stayed out of trouble.
There’s a story about Henry David Thoreau, that at one time he was engaged in some civil disobedience that landed him in jail for the night. His friend Ralph Waldo Emerson came to visit him, and upon seeing him, asked, "Henry! What are you doing in jail?" To which Thoreau replied, "Waldo! What are you doing OUT of jail?"
Perhaps we ought to turn the question of the Pharisees around: instead of asking, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?", we need to ask, "why do we NOT eat with sinners more often? After all, who are we all, but sinners found by God's love? Jesus still comes not for the spiritually fit, but for sinners...for the immigrant and the executive, for the down-and-out and the successful, for the doubting and the certain, for those weary and well. He comes to lift us up, again and again, to remind us that we are his beloved children, and to say to us, ‘Follow me. Follow me into a troubled world, full of people like you: beloved sinners, children of God."
AMEN
Matthew 9:9-13 and following...
A long time ago someone gave me a piece of friendly advice, somewhere along the lines of "how to resist temptation." It went like this: "Don’t go anywhere you’d be ashamed to have Jesus go with you." At first glance, that seemed to be pretty good and practical advice – and destined to keep a conscientious person out of dark taverns, back alleys, and away from bad company. "Don’t go anywhere you’d be ashamed to have Jesus go with you." This is really good advice for a young person, I think – how to be an upstanding Christian, and a good role model for others. But then I started thinking – thinking about all the places that Jesus went, and all of the people Jesus associated with. You know, lepers, prostitutes, tax collectors, thirsty Samaritan women and curious Pharisees. I thought about the story we just heard, the one about Matthew sitting at his tax booth, and how Jesus called him, "follow me." And I thought about how after that it’s reported that Jesus is eating and drinking with "sinners" and tax collectors (perhaps some of Matthew’s friends), and the Pharisees – you know, the ones who are careful about where they go and who they associate with – ask some of his other disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?" It’s the question of people who understand my friend’s advice: "Don’t go anywhere you’d be ashamed to have Jesus go with you." They understand that this is good advice, if you want to be righteous, if you want to lead a good life, if you want to stay out of trouble. It’s the kind of advice we give our children, because we want them to stay out of trouble. But it also got me thinking, is that what it means to be a Christian and a follower of Jesus: that we stay out of trouble?
That’s the perception of the Pharisees, who are concerned with righteousness, with living a righteous life. We like to criticize them now, but for most of us, I think that we are still concerned with living a righteous life, aren’t we? Whether our version of ‘righteousness’ consists of regular church attendance (something I heartily endorse, by the way) and constant prayer, whether it consists in ‘healthy living’ – eat right, don’t drink, don’t smoke, whether it consists in trying to live a balanced life, whether it consists in a deep study of the Bible, whether it consists in a life of service to others, or advocacy for those oppressed, we are all, in one way or another, concerned with living a ‘righteous life.’ And Jesus, overhearing the question of the Pharisees, a legitimate question for people concerned with righteous living, blows them out of the water with his response: "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners."
Someone has said that there are two ways of looking at the church: That it is a gathering of saints, or a hospital for sinners. And of course, there is truth in both views – we who gather here today are God’s saints – we are God’s chosen and holy people, set apart for a particular purpose in the world. That’s what it means to be a saint. But oftentimes, when we think of the church as a gathering of saints, we also think about ourselves as people who are concerned about righteousness – our own and other people’s. We become concerned with ‘holy living’, which translates, in one way or another, into ‘staying out of trouble.’
A while ago I read a survey about health care which was done in Great Britain. You may or may not know that in Great Britain health care is universal -- free for everyone. However, the survey questioned the wisdom of this, and asked whether people who smoke, drink a lot, or eat poorly ought to pay for their own coverage. The title of the article I read was "Should sinners be made to pay?" And a lot of people who took the survey said, "Yes." After all, they reasoned, most people know the consequences of these behaviors, and the costs affect everyone, even those of us who take care of ourselves and stay out of trouble. However, the article’s author argued that this thinking is far too simplistic. It doesn’t take into account genetic factors for certain diseases – how some people can smoke for forty years and never get cancer, and others who have never smoked get smoking-related diseases. And, the author pointed out, what would probably happen is that many people wouldn’t pay – they just wouldn’t seek treatment, and, the author writes, ‘we would end up with a two-tier system such as in the United States where the most needy are excluded from the best care.’
We are all, in one way or another, concerned about righteous living, about holy living, but oftentimes the result is the same in the church as in the world: those who are most needy are excluded from the best care. So, there is another way of looking at the church: rather than a gathering of saints, we can look at the church as a hospital for sinners. This seems to be the way Jesus is looking at it, when he tells the Pharisees, ‘those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.....For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.’
Not the righteous, but sinners. And lest we not realize the radical nature of this statement, consider who is included in ‘sinners’. There’s Matthew the tax collector, working for the Romans and cheating his own people. There’s the Samaritan woman who was married five times. Jesus comes for them, and for others as well, whether street people or corporate executives, addicts and AIDS victims, immigrants and wanderers and workaholics, the judgmental and the lackadaisical. Jesus comes to call sinners, and to call them to get up and follow him. Jesus comes to call sinners, and when we consider the church only as a gathering of saints, we run the risk of excluding the very people who need his care the most. We also run the risk of making the church into a great "self-help" center, where we are expected to heal ourselves by our own pursuit of righteousness. When we call the church a hospital, a hospital for sinners, we can see clearly our own need, and confess that only Christ can say the word, only Christ can heal us, only Christ can raise us from the dead, so that can get up and live, daily returning to the source of our healing and life. When we call the church a hospital, we realize our utter helplessness and the power of God’s love and forgiveness in our lives. As Martin Luther once said, "So we are now under the Physician’s care. The sin, it is true, is wholly forgiven, but it has not been wholly purged.... the Holy Spirit must cleanse the wounds daily."
The church is not a gathering of saints, but a hospital for sinners. You may worry that this seems a passive view, that if this is so, we might run the risk of seeing ourselves only as receiving care, but not as giving care to one another, or to others. And I admit, that this is a risk, when we think that way, until I think of a friend of mine, who has endured several hospitalizations, and so it quite familiar with hospitals. I remember one time when I visited her, that she had been carrying on quite a conversation with the woman in the next bed, and had found out some of her new friend’s concerns and worries and hopes. She invited all of us to pray together on that day, both giving and receiving God’s blessing. She realized that in God’s hospital, we are all both sinners in need of healing, and ministers empowered to share God’s blessings.
There is one more risk involved in seeing the church as primarily a gathering of saints, and that’s the risk of seeing ‘righteousness’ as ‘staying out of trouble.’ It’s the risk of seeing ‘righteousness’ as something we do by eating right, praying and staying away from the wrong people. In truth, righteousness is a free gift given to us in the love and mercy of God, and through the death and resurrection of Jesus. We are made righteous when Jesus looks at us, and calls our names, ‘Follow me.’ "Little girl, get up.’ ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well.’ And the result of Jesus’ call might be just the opposite of staying out of trouble. After all, we follow Jesus, who fed the hungry and ate with sinners, who forgave sins, who befriended the poor, and made the powerful angry. After all, we follow Jesus, who came into this troubled world to live and die as one of us, to heal us and to raise us and to gather us together as his own. You can’t say that he ever stayed out of trouble.
There’s a story about Henry David Thoreau, that at one time he was engaged in some civil disobedience that landed him in jail for the night. His friend Ralph Waldo Emerson came to visit him, and upon seeing him, asked, "Henry! What are you doing in jail?" To which Thoreau replied, "Waldo! What are you doing OUT of jail?"
Perhaps we ought to turn the question of the Pharisees around: instead of asking, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?", we need to ask, "why do we NOT eat with sinners more often? After all, who are we all, but sinners found by God's love? Jesus still comes not for the spiritually fit, but for sinners...for the immigrant and the executive, for the down-and-out and the successful, for the doubting and the certain, for those weary and well. He comes to lift us up, again and again, to remind us that we are his beloved children, and to say to us, ‘Follow me. Follow me into a troubled world, full of people like you: beloved sinners, children of God."
AMEN
Friday, June 6, 2008
O Me of Little Faith
Today I had a funeral at 11:00 a.m. I had a careful checklist of details to remember so that the service would go smoothly: turn on sound and fix up microphones, set lecturn Bible to lessons, make sure that the altar is set for communion, practice sermon and make corrections, put out pall for the casket. All of a sudden at 10:40, I noticed that the organist wasn't here yet! What?! I had just corresponded with him by e-mail, and suddenly I had the thought: yeah, but how do I know that he really did got that information about today? I dialed his cell phone -- and about 2 minutes later he walked in the door.
"Don't doubt me!' he said. "I'm always here!" This is true, but I explained that it wasn't him that I was doubting; it was email; it's a great modern convenience; sometimes I don't know what I would do without it. And yet, there have been a couple of times when someone has said, "What email?"
The truth is, though: it's not just email I doubt. There's a reason that the Youth Easter Sunrise Service caused me the most anxiety of any worship service over the entire year. It's because I did not have absolute and total control over everything that happened, including whether everyone would show up at sunrise. They always did. But still, I didn't sleep well the evening before Easter. O me of little faith.
My work requires me to work in partnership with other staff and with lay leaders on a variety of projects: worship, Bible study, service projects, youth. I know incredibly gifted people who bring gifts I don't possess. I feel privileged to serve with creative people, good organizers, great cooks, compassionate visitors, insightful Bible study participants and co-leaders. And I am also plagued with doubts: what if the communion servers don't show up? What if the microphones don't get turned on? What if the the visitors don't do their calls? What if....? well, you get the picture.
Of course, every once in awhile, something crashes and burns. But more often than not, everyone, including me, rises to the occasion. And I can hear my Lord whispering in my ear, "O ye of little faith, why did you doubt?"
Truth is, trust is one of the most essential components of human community, and also one of the hardest to achieve. A few people trust too much and too indiscriminately, but most of us trust others too little. We need each other's opinions, talents, strengths; we even need each other's failures, weaknesses and hesitations. I do think that's true.
And then there is the ultimate trust: the trust that even when life crashes and burns, even when those we counted on don't show up, even when we don't show up for someone else, God raises us up, heals us and calls us again, saying, "follow me.'
"Don't doubt me!' he said. "I'm always here!" This is true, but I explained that it wasn't him that I was doubting; it was email; it's a great modern convenience; sometimes I don't know what I would do without it. And yet, there have been a couple of times when someone has said, "What email?"
The truth is, though: it's not just email I doubt. There's a reason that the Youth Easter Sunrise Service caused me the most anxiety of any worship service over the entire year. It's because I did not have absolute and total control over everything that happened, including whether everyone would show up at sunrise. They always did. But still, I didn't sleep well the evening before Easter. O me of little faith.
My work requires me to work in partnership with other staff and with lay leaders on a variety of projects: worship, Bible study, service projects, youth. I know incredibly gifted people who bring gifts I don't possess. I feel privileged to serve with creative people, good organizers, great cooks, compassionate visitors, insightful Bible study participants and co-leaders. And I am also plagued with doubts: what if the communion servers don't show up? What if the microphones don't get turned on? What if the the visitors don't do their calls? What if....? well, you get the picture.
Of course, every once in awhile, something crashes and burns. But more often than not, everyone, including me, rises to the occasion. And I can hear my Lord whispering in my ear, "O ye of little faith, why did you doubt?"
Truth is, trust is one of the most essential components of human community, and also one of the hardest to achieve. A few people trust too much and too indiscriminately, but most of us trust others too little. We need each other's opinions, talents, strengths; we even need each other's failures, weaknesses and hesitations. I do think that's true.
And then there is the ultimate trust: the trust that even when life crashes and burns, even when those we counted on don't show up, even when we don't show up for someone else, God raises us up, heals us and calls us again, saying, "follow me.'
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Who wants to start a movement?
The other day my husband and I were having one of our conversations while wandering out of the local Large Chain Bookstore, and he turned to me and said, "Do you think Jesus wanted to start a church?"
I'll admit right now, this kind of question sort of annoys me, what with me being a pastor in a -- you know -- church, and all. My husband is deeply into the Jesus Movement writers, particularly Crossan and Borg; in fact, to tell the truth, he is more of a fan than I am. While at the bookstore, he was checking out a book about Jesus and Paul, and how Paul, not Jesus, started the church. Which, of course, led to the question, "Do you think Jesus wanted to start a church?"
Well, after the first wave of defensiveness passed, this is what I answered: "It depends on what you mean by 'church'". If, by church, you mean the institution, with all its bureaucracy, hierarchy and patriarchy (not to mention a few more "archys"), probably not. But if you mean by 'church' a movement of people committed to gathering together to worship and to serve, to pay attention to and work for the Kingdom of God among them and in the world, yes, I think he did."
I'll bet if the "church" was less an institution and more a movement, some different kinds of people might want to join. Like, tax collectors and sinners. The blind who are made to see, and the lame who now walk. Little kids with crumbly fish and a little bread. A few zealots who want to change the world.
What do you think?
Want to join a movement?
I'll admit right now, this kind of question sort of annoys me, what with me being a pastor in a -- you know -- church, and all. My husband is deeply into the Jesus Movement writers, particularly Crossan and Borg; in fact, to tell the truth, he is more of a fan than I am. While at the bookstore, he was checking out a book about Jesus and Paul, and how Paul, not Jesus, started the church. Which, of course, led to the question, "Do you think Jesus wanted to start a church?"
Well, after the first wave of defensiveness passed, this is what I answered: "It depends on what you mean by 'church'". If, by church, you mean the institution, with all its bureaucracy, hierarchy and patriarchy (not to mention a few more "archys"), probably not. But if you mean by 'church' a movement of people committed to gathering together to worship and to serve, to pay attention to and work for the Kingdom of God among them and in the world, yes, I think he did."
I'll bet if the "church" was less an institution and more a movement, some different kinds of people might want to join. Like, tax collectors and sinners. The blind who are made to see, and the lame who now walk. Little kids with crumbly fish and a little bread. A few zealots who want to change the world.
What do you think?
Want to join a movement?
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Ten Year Anniversary thoughts....
On Sunday, my congregation celebrated my ten year anniversary at this church. Ten years! It's hard for me to imagine. We had coffee and cake between the services, and people shook my hand and said nice things to me. My parents, and husband and step-son came as well.There was a basket for cards on the table, but one man wanted to give me his personally. It was a book, wrapped up, with a white rose attached to it. The rose was in one of those little plastic tubes of water, and he wanted to make sure that the water didn't leak out. As he put it in my hands, he said, "This is from (his wife's name) and me."
His wife died this past winter.
They had been married for over fifty years. She contracted polio in the epidemic after World War II, and had been in a wheelchair ever since. Ever since she was a young woman with two small children, she had lived in that wheelchair. He had had the house re-done so that she could do everything from her wheelchair. He had found more lucrative work, as an engineer rather than as a professor, so that he could afford the care she needed. He had spent most of their married life lifting her into and out of the wheelchair. He walks permanently stooped over from all those years of lifting and carrying her.
At her funeral last winter, I saw a captivating black and white picture of her, standing in the shallow part of a river. She was turning and smiling at the camera, and I thought, "I never really knew her."
On Sunday, as he put the book in my hand, he said, "This is from (his wife's name) and me."
The book was The Four Loves, by C.S. Lewis.
I could tell you about the highlights of my ten years by telling you about the programs I have started, by the worship services I've designed, by the Bible Studies. I could tell you about Faith and Fiction, my book group, and the Bag Lunch Bible Study, and the Contemporary Worship Service, and the Empowering Couples Workshop. I could tell you about my favorite Lenten Series (Practicing our Faith), or the Biblical Monologues I wrote one year. I could point to the Animal Blessing Service last fall, or the Prayer Knitters Group.
Or, I could tell you about the failures: the young adults groups that never got off the ground, the Bible studies with three people in them, the Drama Group that I could never get enough people interested in, the time I invited High School students to Faith and Fiction to discuss the book Holes, and nobody came.
But to me, the ten years are all about people: the stooped-over man who teaches me about love; the young couple who got married and moved to New York; people who argue with me in Bible studies and people I run into at the grocery store; a shy woman who is beginning to become a leader; a young boy who laughed when I washed his feet "because the water was so cold!"; a 10th grade girl who carried the candle at Easter vigil and the boy who said he wanted to be a pastor; the woman who stood in the river long ago, and who lived in a wheelchair for so many years.
And the ten years are all about God's faithfulness in this place, among these people, and to me as well. They are about a God's faithfulness to us in our joy and in our pain, in our failures and in our successes, in the past, and as we lean into the future ... with fear and with faith.
Picture is from ten years ago.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Summer Meme
Barbara tagged me for this fun Summer meme. Suddenly, we have summer here in the northland (just Saturday, actually). We also now have power!
So, without further ado:
1.) What first tells you that summer is here?
First hot day, hot not warm, where you see people at the beach and really in the water (like Sunday).
2.) Name five of your favorite distinctively summer habits or customs.
*Picnics, whether the food is homecooked or just bought and eaten outdoors
*Summer vacation, the three months off from school between June and August. I'll never get over summer vacation
*Going to the lake (Nokomis, Cedar, Lake of the Isles, Harriet, Calhoun, Como. Swimming is fun but optional.)
*Picking berries.
*Reading a book outside, at the beach or other scenic venue
3.) What is your favorite smell of summer?
The smell of the air just after a storm. Clean, and fragrant
4.) What is your favorite taste of summer?
Fresh local strawberries!
runner up: popsicles
5.) Favorite summer memory?
On a hot summer night, my sister and I would go to sleep with just sheets covering us, and with two of those old-fahsioned box fans running in the window. At sometime during the night, my mother would quietly come in and turn the air on the fan around.
6.) Extreme heat or extreme cold? Which would you choose and why?
After this long long cold cold winter, I am going to choose extreme heat. Although I might change my mind later.
7.) What books do you plan to read for the season?
*Our June book club book is Tall Grass, by Sandra Dallas
*Christianity for the Rest of Us, by Diana Butler Bass
*Mudbound, by Hillary Jordan
*The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, by Sherman Alexie
*The Double Bind, by Chris Bohjalian
8.) How does the summer affect your faith? Is it a hindrance?
I think summer, and the long liturgical season of discipleship, is an ally. The summer walks by the lake, and the time for meditation, are good for me spiritually. I like the longer days, too.
1.) What first tells you that summer is here?
First hot day, hot not warm, where you see people at the beach and really in the water (like Sunday).
2.) Name five of your favorite distinctively summer habits or customs.
*Picnics, whether the food is homecooked or just bought and eaten outdoors
*Summer vacation, the three months off from school between June and August. I'll never get over summer vacation
*Going to the lake (Nokomis, Cedar, Lake of the Isles, Harriet, Calhoun, Como. Swimming is fun but optional.)
*Picking berries.
*Reading a book outside, at the beach or other scenic venue
3.) What is your favorite smell of summer?
The smell of the air just after a storm. Clean, and fragrant
4.) What is your favorite taste of summer?
Fresh local strawberries!
runner up: popsicles
5.) Favorite summer memory?
On a hot summer night, my sister and I would go to sleep with just sheets covering us, and with two of those old-fahsioned box fans running in the window. At sometime during the night, my mother would quietly come in and turn the air on the fan around.
6.) Extreme heat or extreme cold? Which would you choose and why?
After this long long cold cold winter, I am going to choose extreme heat. Although I might change my mind later.
7.) What books do you plan to read for the season?
*Our June book club book is Tall Grass, by Sandra Dallas
*Christianity for the Rest of Us, by Diana Butler Bass
*Mudbound, by Hillary Jordan
*The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, by Sherman Alexie
*The Double Bind, by Chris Bohjalian
8.) How does the summer affect your faith? Is it a hindrance?
I think summer, and the long liturgical season of discipleship, is an ally. The summer walks by the lake, and the time for meditation, are good for me spiritually. I like the longer days, too.
Picture is from here
I'll tag:
two dogs
Scout (she'll do the meme later tonight)
Rowan
and three people
Juniper
Linda
Katherine E.
two dogs
Scout (she'll do the meme later tonight)
Rowan
and three people
Juniper
Linda
Katherine E.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Severe weather here
I'm typing this at church right now because we have not had electricity since about 7:00 last night. We had a thunderstorm with wind and hail. Very exciting. For Scout, and for us.
This morning early we saw someone walk through our backyard. He told us there was a great tree down on the next block and they would have to move that before they could restore our power.
So this morning:
No clocks.
No curling iron.
No microwave.
No coffee.
It was my anniversary celebration here at church today. I preached. When we get power restored (and coffee!) I'll tell you more about that. Also, Scout went to agility class yesterday. And she'll have something to say about that too.
This morning early we saw someone walk through our backyard. He told us there was a great tree down on the next block and they would have to move that before they could restore our power.
So this morning:
No clocks.
No curling iron.
No microwave.
No coffee.
It was my anniversary celebration here at church today. I preached. When we get power restored (and coffee!) I'll tell you more about that. Also, Scout went to agility class yesterday. And she'll have something to say about that too.
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