I am on Vacation

....briefly.

Internet connectivity appears to be anecdotal, but I have it right now.

Here's what I've done so far:

1.  Stopped in a number of places on the way up here, including an Antique Store in Duluth, where I bought three inexpensive children's books, and a Yarn Store (Playing with Yarn) where I haven't bought anything (yet).

2. Had a late lunch at a cool place called Tom's trading post.  They have good tuna salad sandwiches, and they really really liked our dog there.

3.  Watched the old movie, "The Mortal Storm."  Sad, scary movie. 

4.  Had breakfast at Betty's Pies.  Scout made "I miss you guys" noises from the car.

5.  Made a couple of pastoral care phone calls (ah, the wonder of the cell phone).  I'm done now, though.  Promise.

6.  Hiked up around Gooseberry Falls, and stopped in at Split Rock Lighthouse.  Hope to go back for more.  It's their anniversary, you know.

7.  Scout was spooked by a couple of people who wanted to meet her, but, for the most part, she has been friendly and obliging to everyone who wants to pet her.  A couple of people have remarked that she is therapy for them as they had to leave their dog at home.  This is the one vacation where we get to bring her, so I know how they feel. 

It's cool up here, but the sun is shining.  The sky is a beautiful pure blue color.  My feet hurt sometimes, but I keep going.

Why Do You Come to Worship?

It’s a serious question. Why do you come to worship? A lot of people don’t these days. Some of them are Christian. Anne Rice, a famous writer who converted to Christianity, has now stated that she has “left the church.” She still believes in Jesus, but she’s given up on his followers.

Why do you come to worship? There are lots of different reasons, as many reasons for coming to worship as there might be for not coming to worship. Perhaps you come to connect with your friends who are also coming to worship. Perhaps you come to sing a song, or to hear a sermon, hoping you will get something to take with you through the week. Sometimes you do, and sometimes you don’t.

Just lately, my heart was warmed when I read an interview with writer Anne Lamott. She was asked how she kept “charged up” in her spiritual life. She replied, “I go to church every Sunday, which is like going to the gas station and really, really filling up.” That made me smile.

Why do you come to worship? Do you come to get something, or do you come to give something?

You might expect me, a pastor, to take the position that you come to worship to give something, rather than get something. Worship in our tradition is called “the work of the people”, the liturgy, and it is an act of corporate devotion given to God, the work of the gathered community. You might also expect me to take issue with the position that we come to worship to “get something.”

However, I don’t see worship as an either/or. I see it as a both/and.

Certainly, I want us to remember that when we are at worship, we are offering our hearts, our lives, to God, in prayer and in praise. We are giving something to God – and when we come to worship, we are also giving something to one another – by showing up and singing and praying together, by kneeling and standing (as we are able) together, by listening to one another’s joys and sorrows.

But of course, as Anne Lamott wrote, we are also getting something – we are getting something from God – bread and wine, Christ’s body and blood and the assurances of Christ’s presence, not just for an hour on Sunday, but in all our lives. We are getting something: hope, peace, love – from God – and from one another. You never know who might need you to be there in worship today, who might need to hear your voice, singing, who might need to see your tears.

As for me, today I needed to see a three-year-old girl, “running the race set before her”, during the children’s message. (Of course, the other children too!) I needed to hear all of your voices during the hymns, and the murmuring of names of your cloud of witnesses.

So, why do you come to worship? It’s a serious question. I hope you’ll take time to tell me.

(in some form or another, this will be my church newsletter column this month.)

Scout Predicts the Weather

Suddenly, this evening, Scout went and sat in one of her safe places.  When my husband tried to get her to come so she could go out for the last time in the evening, she growled at him.

This is not like her.

It rained and rained and rained Thursday evening.  There were flash flood warnings in the morning.  It was supposed to storm a lot on Friday night too, but most of it went around us.

The weekend prediction was that the humidity and the temperature would get lower.  It should be (I hope) a nice morning to have church on the lawn.

Then, suddenly, Scout did her weird "safe place" act.  I was sure that it was not supposed to rain tonight. 

So, we finally got Scout to go outside.

As soon as she came back in, it started raining.

I should listen to her more often, I think.

I think she knows more than I give her credit for.

"My Mom Hates Me"

I heard a young woman I know well say words similar to these recently.  With knee-jerk speed, I shot back, "your mom does NOT hate you."

The thing is, I know why this young woman might say these words.  Her mother recently had to say some difficult words to her, and do something difficult for a parent to do. And yet, I know that her mother doesn't hate her.  In fact, her mother loves her very much.  Her mother, and in fact, many of us, are worried about her.

She's been making some bad choices for a long time:  lying about where she's been, partying with her friends when she says she's studying, not doing the work she needs to do in order to graduate from high school.   She's on a road leading nowhere, and doesn't seem to know it.  She seems to think she's living the high life with "friends", but the people who really love her know it isn't true.

When I think about this young woman I know and worry about, I can't help thinking about the prophets.  Especially Jeremiah.  Jeremiah spoke almost unremitting words of judgment to the people of Israel.  He kept telling them they were heading toward a fall.  He was suspected of being a traitor.  He didn't promise prosperity, rainbows or cheap grace.

It makes me wonder, did the people say, "The Lord hates us"?

I'm told that popular preacher Joel Osteen is fond of saying, "God is not mad at you."  Now I know why he might be saying this; there are a lot of people out there who experience only God's judgment in their lives.  They are sure that God is unhappy with every move they make.  But it's not exactly true that, "God is not mad at you."

Sometimes God is angry with us because God loves us, because God sees us heading down a path to nowhere.  Sometimes God has to speak hard words, give ultimatums, because we don't love our neighbor as ourselves, especially if they're poor, or don't look like us, or are weak and easy to take advantage of.  Sometimes God is angry with us because we think we're living the high life, building bigger barns, but we're really on a collective road to destruction.

I remember talking to a confirmation group a few years ago about the 7th commandment, "You shall not steal."  I had been really moved and angered when I was in high school when I heard that grocery stores in poor neighborhoods charged the people more for groceries, simply because didn't have the mobility to go shop at another store if they didn't like the prices.  (This was the explanation of my high school teacher in the 1970s.)  I shared this with my class, and asked, "is this stealing from the poor?  Is this breaking the 7th commandment?"  And one of the students said, "It's not stealing.  It's GOOD BUSINESS." (Sadly, he also opined that it is their own fault that people are poor.)

Right now, I'm thinking about our inability to create racial equity, our unwillingness to work toward opportunities for all of us.  If we don't work toward a world where everyone has a future, we're on a collective road to destruction, and we don't see it.  We don't see that our futures are connected.  We don't see that the choices we make in our personal lives, and in our collective lives, are leading to death, not life.

And yet, God loves us.  God loves us like I love this young woman, and want her to walk down a different road, a road that leads to life, making choices not just based on what feels good right now, but what will lead to a bright future.

It's always hard to hear words like our gospel for Sunday:  "I come not to bring peace but a sword."  "I come to bring fire."  This is not the same Jesus who has held children on his knee, and cleansed lepers, and fed thousands.  Who is this Jesus? 

But it is the same Jesus.  And it's because he has held children, and cleansed lepers, and fed thousands that he also says these words.  it's because he loves the poor who pay too much and the grocer who charges this much, because he loves the boy who is tempted to join a gang, the girl who is trying hard to learn English, and the congregation who closes their eyes and doesn't see them -- it's because Jesus loves them all that he speaks words like these.  "Can't you see the signs?"  He asks us.  "Can't you see the signs?"

Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace Grace

Nothing about my life is perfect right now.

For example:  recently I've been having trouble doing my most regular form of exercise, walking the dog.  My heel hurts, sometimes terribly, and I end up limping like I'm about 30 years older than my actual age.  I haven't been to the doctor yet, but I think I have something called plantar faschiatis.   

I'm knitting another pair of socks, in the odd moment or two, at the end of long days.  I'm still working the basic pattern, with different colors and weights of yarn.  The first pair came out all right, except the kitchener stitch.  The second pair, with exactly the same pattern, stretched out way too big.  The third pair are not exactly the same length.  They all have the little holes that I haven't learned how to correct, although I've tried a few suggestions.  None of these socks are monstrosities, but, they aren't perfect either.

As everyone knows, my dog is also not perfect (although there are times when I think she is nevertheless, the best part of my life).  She was Possessive as a puppy and, although she's much better now, she still has Issues.

I'm currently serving a church in a first-ring suburb, a church in a changing neighborhood, a community with growing diversity, poverty, a growing immigrant population.  I find many things about this stimulating.  I want to be a part of a church that is diverse in age, ethnic heritage, race.  But, this is easier said than done.  So, my congregation is not perfect.  (I'm not either, so I suppose it's a good fit.)

I'm thinking a lot about social justice, the call to do justice in our community, to stand against racism, to stand for equity, to work on behalf of the little ones.  I believe in this.  I try to do it.  I fail a lot.  Sometimes I feel like quitting.  I especially want all children, no matter who they are, who their parents are, where they are from, to have a chance to thrive.

But deep down, what I'm really passionate about, even more than justice, is grace.

Nothing about my life is perfect.  I'm not going to do all the things I want to do with my life (although I still habor a couple of hopes).  I'm going to keep failing, and I need the courage to get up and keep trying, despite my aching feet, despite my roomy socks, despite my church full of sinners (like me).  And the over-the-top, never-ending, over-flowing grace of God is the only thing I know that gives me enough courage to keep going.  The only thing. 

Grace -- God's love to those who waste their whole lives, to those who try with good intentions, to the clueless and the earnest, to the mean and the lowly and the hopeless and those clinging to false hopes.  God's love to Marcus Borg-loving liberals and tongues-speaking Pentecostals and everyone in between. 

I have to preach grace.  But then, say, "Just do it."  Do justice.  Love kindness.  Fail at it, but do it.

After all, what have you got to lose?

"Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."

Two Favorite Stories, or "things that make you go hmmm"

About Benjamin Disraeli:

A young lady was taken to dinner one evening by Gladstone and the following evening by Disraeli. Asked what impressions these two celebrated men had made upon her, she replied, "When I left the dining room after sitting next to Mr. Gladstone, I thought he was the cleverest man in England. But after sitting next to Mr. Disraeli, I thought I was the cleverest woman in England."

From Aesop's Fables:

The North Wind and the Sun

A dispute arose between the North Wind and the Sun, each claiming that he was stronger than the other.  At last they agreed to try their powers upon a traveller, to see which could soonest strip him of his cloak.  The North Wind had the first try; and, gathering up all his force for the attack, he came whirling furiously down upon the man, and caught up his cloak as though he would wrest it from him by one single effort; but the harder he blew, the more closely the man wrapped it round himself.  Then came the turn of the Sun.  At first he beamed gently upon the traveller, who soon unclasped his cloak and walked on with it hanging loosely about his shoulders:  then he shone forth in his full strength, and the man, before he had gone many steps, was glad to throw his cloak right off and complete his journey more lightly clad.

I am thinking a lot lately about leadership, or, more properly, about leading (an action, not a status).  Somehow these stories say something about leading.

Bonus blessings

We are here in Chicago for the weekend, attending the baptism of my mother-in-law's 6th great-grandchild.  She got to ride along with us this trip.  We left early yesterday (Saturday) morning, took our time driving, and have had one whole day here to feast and celebrate and worship together.

Someone from my church asked me if I did the baptism.  I had to smile. The extended family on my husband's side are Missouri Synod Lutheran, so no, they did not ask me to do the baptism.  I told my sister-in-law about the comment, and she said, "Well, that would have been nice, wouldn't it?" 

This should tell you something about my husband's family.

I'm enjoying the weekend away, although, to be truthful, we are spending a lot of it in the car.  It's not that I don't want to be at my church; I missed them this morning.  However, the fact that I wasn't preparing a sermon for this weekend meant that I could spent some time on a few other parish responsibilities this week.

(On the other hand, in this pre-interim transition time, securing a supply preacher, communicating with them about our services, and preparing everything for them to be here takes a fair amount of time too.)

(I learned something from the supply preacher this weekend.  When I called him, he said that preaching would not be a problem.  However, doing the rest of the service has become more difficult and stressful lately as every church does not use the same worship format any more.  And said something like, "What can we do about that?"  I thought at first he was saying that he couldn't do it if he would have to lead worship, but he was really saying, "how can we make this work?"  And I learned that leadership is not always about simply saying, "Yes", or "No", but about answering the question, "How can we make this work?")

I always enjoy visiting my husband's sister.  She has the gift of hospitality.  She's a great cook,a great reader, and a great conversationalist. She always makes us feel at home. 

There was the bonus this particular weekend of having the baby fall asleep while I was holding him last night.  I was rocking him in one of the rocking chairs, and singing a couple of songs, including "Beautiful Savior."  He was fussing a little, and then he rested his arm on my chest, and his head on his arm as if it was a pillow, and pretty soon he was fast asleep. 

That alone is worth eight hours in the car.