Take Heart!

I had the honor and privilege of leading worship and preaching at North Decatur Presbyterian Church today, and thought I'd post my sermon text. I'd love any comments that readers feel inclined to leave!

"Take heart. Do not be afraid!"

Preached at N. Decatur Presbyterian Church on August 10, 2008

I spent a great deal of time at our neighborhood pool this summer. We’ve always been fortunate enough to have a place to swim in the summers, from the time our boys were tiny until now. And one of my favorite things to watch is the dance that parents do with toddlers as they try to get the comfortable in the water.

Some of them are like Adam, our oldest was. Eager to get in, but cautious. Cautious, but very trusting of Joel or me. He would stand on the edge of the water and we would hold our hands out and he would jump. Just like that. He knew he couldn’t do it alone, but he was confident that we wouldn’t let anything happen to him. He trusted us.

Some of the toddlers that I’ve watched over the years are more like our middle child, Daniel. Daniel is much more of a land creature than a water creature. As a toddler, he was always happier playing around the water, or at most, in the baby pool, than he was in the overwhelming expanse of the big pool.

He needed to feel the pool bottom under his feet while his head was still above water. Daniel was less confident in his own ability to stay afloat, and less trusting that we would keep him from going underwater when we were with him in the “big pool.” His trust in us was, I suspect, overshadowed by his own insecurity in the water.

And then there are those kids who are more like Michael, our youngest. Michael is, I am quite certain, part fish. From the time he could walk, I could not keep him away from the water. The summer before he turned two, he was forever wandering away to the big pool, leaving me frantically chasing after him, abandoning his brothers, then 3 and 5, who were happily playing in the kiddie pool.

We finally had to get one of those bathing suits with the floaties built IN so that I could manage them all around the water by myself on those hot summer days at our neighborhood pool in Greenville, SC. I realized he could swim one summer at the beach when he jumped into the water before we had a chance to get his suit on. Splash…brief moment of parental panic…wait & see.....Hey! He’s doing it!

He was so comfortable in the water that he didn’t even need to trust us. He just reveled in the refreshing freedom of being in the water.

We all have our own different comfort levels with the water, don’t we? It’s an amazing thing. Too much of water can lead to fear, uncertainty, even tragedy. Not enough water can lead to thirst, desperation, even death.

Todays’ text takes us to the water…to the rough water of the Sea of Galilee.

Matthew 14:22-33
22Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. 23And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, 24but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. 25And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. 26But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, "It is a ghost!" And they cried out in fear. 27But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, "Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid."

28Peter answered him, "Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water." 29He said, "Come." So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. 30But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, "Lord, save me!" 31Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, " You of little faith, why did you doubt?" 32When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. 33And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God."

The story of Jesus calming a storm is a familiar gospel story, found in some form in all four gospels. And if you follow the larger denominational news, you are aware that this “boat” analogy has been used several times over the past few years as various people attempt to speak to those of us in the pews.

Former moderator Rick Ufford-Chase told us, in 2004: "We are invited to get in the (water) with Jesus, like those disciples.” He continued by adding, "I want to be part of a church that says 'Yes' and gets into that (water) with Jesus."

In a recent open letter to congregations after the actions of the 218th General Assembly, stated clerk Gradye Parsons told us: “Get into the boat. Go across the lake. There will be a storm. You will not die."

For many, the story IS a familiar one. Perhaps even a bit overused. But Jesus calming a storm is in all four of the gospels in some form, so there must be something to it!

Three of the versions of this story—John’s, Mark’s, and here in Matthew-- acknowledge the power of Jesus to transcend the physical by walking on the water. And all four gospels tell of Jesus’ ability to direct the forces of nature by calming the storm. Likewise, all four storm accounts place Jesus in the water with his disciples, reminding us that Christ, the ultimate storm-calmer, is indeed in our midst—in the water with US.

But the account of Peter stepping out into the water found in today’s narrative is characteristic only of Matthew. So that’s what I was drawn to look at today. What is it that we can glean from Matthew’s version of this story for our lives in this time and place?

Peter and the disciples find themselves adrift in a boat, amidst rough waters.
It is nighttime.
There are waves crashing around them.
They have drifted away from the shore.
They had gotten in the boat as Jesus had commanded them in v. 22, and then he had left them.
Left them alone to go pray, of all things.

The disciples see a figure walking toward them, seemingly on the water. Jesus senses their fear and says to them, “Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.”

Now, Peter, uncertain that the ghost-like figure walking toward them on the water is, in fact, Jesus, speaks up: “Lord, IF it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”

IF it is you. IF. If suggests disbelief, uncertainty. Peter’s not sure that it’s really Jesus out there. But he’s willing to consider that it might be.

Peter has enough faith to know, at least initially, that if Jesus commands him to, he can walk on water.

Jesus commands him, “Come!” So Peter steps out in faith and begins to walk toward him.

But, like all disciple, Peter got distracted. He got distracted by the rough water around him, and doubt crept in.

As the doubt overcame him, he began to sink. And as sank, he called out in faith to Jesus, who caught him and got into the boat with him.

Now…we know that Peter has been marked as one of Jesus’ disciples. Peter has devoted his life to following Jesus.

Peter got INTO the boat because Jesus told him to. Peter stepped OUT on the water because Jesus told him to. In so doing, Peter is simultaneously reminded of both his own weakness, as well as God’s almighty power.

For me, at least, Peter “becomes a mirror in which (we) disciples, ancient and modern, are able to see (our)selves and take heart.” Faith requires stepping out, taking risks, yes.

But we will, from time to time, get distracted by the storm, become frightened, and begin to sink. Matthew reminds us that when that happens, God in Christ is there to catch us and remind us. To remind us who we are—doubters of little faith—and to remind us who HE is--truly the Son of God.

Matthew’s inclusion of Peter in this story provides an understanding for us of what it means to be a disciple of Christ, caught in the gap between faith and doubt. Matthew reassures us that the cycle of faith and doubt is part of what it means to be in the waters with Jesus.

Like Peter, we, too, have been marked as disciples of Christ.
We, too, have been called into the water with Jesus.
We, too, have been marked as God’s own in the waters of baptism.

In this water, we are reminded that Christ is in the midst of us. In this water, we are called to keep our sights, our focus, on Jesus Christ, the Living Word, amidst the storm of life.

In this water of baptism, we are called to trust. We are equipped with all we need to take the risks that come with stepping out in faith.

But like Peter, we doubt. We may take a few tentative steps out of the boat, in faith, but life overwhelms us. Doubt creeps in, and our faith wavers. We call out to Christ for help. And he does. He catches us and calms the storm.

And we profess our faith and our belief once again…until the storm rages again.
And we step out in faith…again.
And we doubt…again.
And we call out…again.
And Christ comes…again.
And we profess…again.

But just how comfortable are we, really, with this cycle of faith and doubt? How comfortable are we, really, with this water—the water of our baptism?

Just as toddlers do with water at the pool in the summertime, so we too react differently to this water—the water of our baptism.

Some of us are cautious but trusting. Some of us are more comfortable relying on our own devices rather than placing our trust elsewhere. And some of us revel in the refreshing freedom that we find in our baptism.

Just how comfortable are we being in the water with Jesus? How comfortable are we stepping OUT in faith, trusting that Christ is in our midst? How comfortable are we in the midst of the storm with our focus honed on Jesus the Christ?

Wherever you find yourself this morning, remember that Christ is present.

Christ is present here in this denomination as we struggle with living into who God is calling us to be, and how God might make us One in Christ.

Christ is present here in this church family amidst the storms of transition and uncertainty.

Christ is present with each of us as we weather the various storms of life—transitions, disappointments, worries, fears, joys, sorrows, losses, illnesses… Christ is here, in the boat with us.

Jesus Christ, Immanuel, God WITH us is here in the water with us.

Christ is with us in the water, and promises to deliver us safely to our destination.

We are in water with Jesus.
We will reach our destination.
There will be a storm.
We will not die.

And he says to us, “Take heart. Do not be afraid!”

Thanks be to GOD for the waters of our baptism that mark us as belonging to God and call us to faith in God and God alone.

As we move forward from this place today, we go knowing that storms may come. But we also go knowing that our confidence and trust is in the one who both calms the storms and leads us into God’s future with hope.

July 11, 1996

No, that’s not a typo. Twelve years ago today, the world lost (in bodily form, anyway) one if its most quirky, witty, and caring members. I’m thinking of you today, Hunter, and need you to know that.

Although your death was imminent that hot summer day in 1996, it still felt like the ground had been knocked out from underneath me when the nurse told me over the phone. Mom and Dad had gone home for an overnight to get haircuts and some fresh clothes—preparing for the influx of Atlanta Olympic athletes and fans soon to hit the city. The nurse’s station had to call Ellen for the name of another family member, but wouldn’t tell her what was going on. In retrospect, I’m sure she knew, but she called me at home to tell me that I needed to call the nurse’s station. “Mr. Patterson expired in his sleep last night.”

Deep breath. Not enough air. Another deep breath. I can’t breathe. God help me.

I called Joel for strength, then called Tom and Calli to let them know they should check in with Mom and Dad soon. And then I called and told my parents that you were gone--probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my 42 years.

But you aren’t gone, and you never will be. Even now, twelve years later, I know you are “with” us. Soaring by on the wings of the neighborhood hawk at times when we need it most, or even just to say hello on an ordinary day—reminding us to stop and enjoy the life that is now. You gave much to us when you were with us, and continue to give to us even now, entering into our daily conversations and our family gatherings, your absence louder than your presence, if that’s possible.

The only lingering, overwhelming sadness that I have now, twelve years later, is that our children—your nieces and nephews—don’t have you in their lives like we wish they did. I know in my heart of hearts that you can see them, and that you know them. But as hard as I have tried to keep you alive for them, I cannot. On the rare occasions they do speak of you, it’s as if you were some oversized, historic figure, not the uncle that I know you wish you could be. There are many reasons why your death seemed unfair, but that one hurts the most.

I wish I could hear you tell me what life is like on the other side. I’m sure it’s far bigger than we can possibly imagine. I wish I knew for sure that we’ll be together again—that our children will have the chance to really know you. But I don’t. While I do know and trust that all is well, and that all WILL be well, I don’t dare imagine death in my mind, lest I limit it to worldly knowledge. But I think I do know, deep within me, that you are still with us. You live on in us—in our memories, in our hearts, and in our lives. Not only through Mom and Dad and Tom and Calli and me, but through the countless number of people whose lives you touched.

You live on in and through and around us. But I sure do wish you were still here. I miss you, brother. See you on the flip side.

Love,
Your Baby Sister

A Postscript to "Parental Failure"

For what it's worth, Daniel seemed to be very excited that Obama has clinched the nomination. I'm not sure who he'll eventually support, but I must say that I am rather glad he is only 11 and will therefore not be able to vote. At least we have a few more years to educate him on how to make the best choice...!

Be Still and Know...

Today I was honored to preach and lead worship at Midway Presbyterian Church. http://www.midwaychurch.net/ It was a wonderful experience, and allowed me to realize how far I have come, how much I have grown, in my pastoral life these past few years, thanks in large part to my role as pastor's wife, not pastor.

The congregation was made up of 31 older white congregants, probably only slightly more women than men. The youngest person there, aside from myself, was probably early to mid-50's. Most of the men wore American flag lapel pens, and those who had served in the armed forces wore their appropriate pins as well. The pew Bible was the NIV, and the hymnbook was not the PCUSA one. The assurance of pardon made some reference to "all who confess their sins will be saved," rather than forgiven. And the comments after my sermon were about 50/50. Half of the folks (men and women) thanked me for the wonderful message. The other half told me just how cute I was. A few people combined those two comments. I was thrilled to hear them all, not because I particularly like to be called "cute" after I preach the Good News, but because each of the comments, whether about my sermon or my looks, were genuine and sincere. I felt very warmly received, and everyone there showed me the love of Christ in the way he or she best knew how.

Had I preached there three years ago, prior to Rehoboth, prior to living with and walking alongside my husband, who has taught me much, these past three years, I would have cringed. Cringed at the overt patriotism in a house of worship, cringed at the choices of worship resources (translation and hymnbook), cringed at the men who called me cute, and been equally offended and put off with the women who did. I would not have hung around and mingled with folks after worship, nor would I have been excited at the prospect of returning, as many encouraged me to do. But thankfully, over the past three years, God has shown me a love for her people that is more open and accepting. She has shown me a love that is less judgmental and more eager to share the love that I have come to know in her with those whom I encounter.

For all of these things, I am grateful. My prayer is that all of God's people will come closer and closer to a love for others that more closely resembles the love Christ has for us. Not just for those that are like we are, but for all of his beloved.

The Sermon: "Be Still and Know"

Psalm 46:1-11

1God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
2Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;
3though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult.
4There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High.
5God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved; God will help it when the morning dawns.
6The nations are in an uproar, the kingdoms totter; he utters his voice, the earth melts.
7The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.
8Come, behold the works of the LORD; see what desolations he has brought on the earth.
9He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire.
10"Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth."
11The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.


Date: September 11, 2001:

A hijacked passenger jet out of Boston crashed into the north tower of the World Trade Center, tearing a gaping hole in the building and setting it afire.

Minutes later, a second hijacked airliner from Boston, crashed into the south tower of the World Trade Center and exploded.

An hour later, yet another airliner crashed into the Pentagon, sending up a huge plume of smoke. Evacuation began immediately.

Less than three hours after the first attack, a fourth hijacked jet crashed in Somerset County, Pennsylvania, southeast of Pittsburgh.

“Be STILL, and know that I am God.”

Date: March 19, 2003, quoting George W. Bush:

“My fellow citizens, at this hour American and coalition forces are in the early stages of military operations to disarm Iraq, to free its people and to defend the world from grave danger. On my orders, coalition forces have begun striking selected targets of military importance to undermine Saddam Hussein's ability to wage war. These are opening stages of what will be a broad and concerted campaign.”

“Be still, and know that I am God!”

Date: January 15, 2004

They had recently picked up and moved from their home to a new job for him. It was a hard time to move—the boys were 1 and 3, and she was just beginning to feel like she had her body back after giving birth. And then one day, seemingly out of nowhere, and tells her that he is leaving them. Apparently he “no longer wants to be married.” So she finds herself in a new city, among new friends--away from home and family, with no way to pay rent or buy food. It’s as if the earth changed right under her feet, and it was terrifying. What was she going to do?

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

Date: July 11, 2005

The storm was already beginning to move in, so she wasn’t surprised when their children wanted her to sleep downstairs with them. She let John know that she would join him as soon as they were asleep, and she crawled in bed with their daughter. It had been a long day, and she fell asleep, but was soon awoken by the loudest noise and most jarring feeling of her life. The rafters shook and she trembled as the debris continued to fall. Then all was quiet. Deathly quiet. She ran upstairs and found that the old tree—the one that they had been meaning to cut—had fallen right on their house, right onto their bed where her husband lay. The reality of what had happened hit her like a ton of bricks, and she knew that her life and the lives of their children were forever changed. Her foundation had been shaken to its core. Would she…could she recover?

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

Date: December 8, 2007

Her dad was doing better after the surgery to clear the arterial blockages. It was really scary for a while there. Aneurysm on top of emphysema made for a very delicate health situation. But then her brother Bill was diagnosed with prostate cancer, and the prognosis was not good. It seemed that avoiding the doctor all of these years might have caught up with him. And on top of all that, another brother has been diagnosed with yet another form of cancer. Amidst already difficult family relationships, health issues compound the delicate balance. The waters seem to just continue to roar and foam around her…

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

Date: January 8, 2008

She didn’t mind hiking alone, and perhaps her green belt in judo gave her parents a bit of peace when she struck out with only her beloved dog at her side. But when she didn’t return that day, and there was no word from her for the next few days, we all began to suspect the worst. Investigators concluded that hiker Meredith Emerson was abducted by Gary Michael Hilton while hiking with her dog in the mountains of North Georgia. Her body was found less than a week later, and Hilton has been sentenced to life in prison for her death. Later findings revealed he was connected to several other murders in the southeast.

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

Date: March 15, 2008

A tornado hit downtown Atlanta at approximately 9:40 PM, while basketball fans gathered in the Georgia Dome watching the Alabama / Mississippi State playoff game. Thousands were out and about downtown on this Friday night.

Waves of severe thunderstorms streaked through hours after the tornado left a trail of destruction through the heart of the city. Yet in the midst of the city, thousands felt God’s presence. As the morning dawned, we began to realize that while there were many injuries, there were no reported fatalities in downtown Atlanta.

“Be still, and know that I am God!”

Date: May 2nd, 2008

A cyclone tore through Myanmar (Burma) with unexpected fury, causing a tidal surge that swept inland and devastated Myanmar's most populated regions, leaving homes and businesses flattened and families forever changed.

Knocked over by a six-metre wave, a young Burmese woman climbed a tree backwards to protect her eight-month fetus. She held onto a branch for 12 hours, praying to God, until the sunrise shed light on her dead husband, 1-year old child, and dozens of relatives.[1]

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

Date: May 13, 2008

A powerful earthquake toppled buildings, schools and chemical plants today in central China, killing about 10,000 people and trapping untold numbers in mounds of concrete, steel and earth in the country's worst quake in three decades.

Five days after the earthquake, a group of rescue workers found the body of a young woman inside rubble. She was in the kneeling position. Her back hunched over supporting the crumbled ceiling, her arms stretched forward, her hands thrust firmly into the muddy earth. There was no life in her. [2]

“Be still, and know that I am God. “

Cancerous tumors, failed marriages, falling trees, and human pain. Raining bullets, lost lives, nations in uproar, and human loss. Tidal surges, flattened structures, toppled buildings, and human loss. Nations in uproar, kingdoms that totter, a melting earth, and abounding wars.

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

It’s often far too easy to remove ourselves from the natural disasters, the human atrocities, and the individual pain that many have endured and are enduring. And so…while we understand the need for the lesson found in these particular verses, we might even experience a twinge of guilt because maybe we have been UNaffected by such tragedies.

Or maybe we understand all too well the need for the lesson found in these verses, and we don’t want to hear it because its message hits too close to home. There may be, right now, foundation-shaking things that are happening within the lives of some of us. Perhaps you feel as if you are being overpowered by roaring, foaming waters. Maybe someone you love feels like the rug has just been pulled out from under her.

If your life is smooth sailing right now, or if your life waters are tossing you to and fro, there is a word for us to be found in today’s psalm.

The response of many, when bad things happen, is to question God. Why is God doing this to me, to her, to us? And that’s a question with which I continue to struggle. But I have found comfort in the words of the late Shirley Guthrie, theologian and professor at Columbia Seminary. He tells us in his book Christian Doctrine that God does not cause bad things to happen. Rather, when bad things do happen, “we look for and expect God’s presence (to) work indirectly in and through—and sometimes despite—the natural processes that affect our lives.”

There are times when it does seem that our world is falling apart all around us. Maybe we’re not touched directly by the chaos, but each of us is, in some way, affected. Much may fall apart around us, but we are not finally in jeopardy. The Lord God is sovereign. God is faithful. God is with us. God will not fail us.

God is, indeed, our refuge and strength, our help in times of trouble. This does not mean that bad things will NOT happen to us—they likely will if we live long enough. But it does mean that God will be with us during those difficult times, working in and through those moments of crisis and pain, to somehow bring good out of chaos. As the scholar writes, this text is “a profound assurance when life becomes unglued!”[3]

Let’s go back to China. Remember the body of the young woman found kneeling and hunched over? I’d like to share with you the rest of the story.

“As the rescue workers walked away (from her body), suddenly, the team leader seemed to understand something. He hurried back to the woman’s side and reached underneath her body. There, in the tiny shelter that the young woman created by using her body as protective shield, was a baby, about 3 months old, alive, unhurt and sleeping soundly still. Inside baby’s clothing, he found also a cell phone. On it was a message. “My dear baby: if you’re alive, remember, I love you.” People soon gathered about them and there was not a dry eye in the crowd.[4]

The closest thing to understanding God’s love of and care for us is the love of parent for child. It has been said that “the unconditional love of a parent is the greatest thing a child ever receives.” Sadly, many children never experience such love from their parents. Even for those that are fortunate enough to experience it, the unconditional love of God is greater still.

“In a time, when the world (seems to) crumble(s) all around (us), when the earth (seems to) swallow everything in sight, when all the hope seems to fade, God holds up the falling sky and says to us. ‘Be still, and know that I am God. I am here. Everything will be all right.’” [5]

To God be all the glory, and honor, and power. Now & forevermore. Amen.


[1] http://www.thestar.com/News/World/article/439073 (Toronto, Canada)
[2] http://www.useless-knowledge.com/1234/08june/article004.html
[3] Brueggemann, Walter in Text for Preaching, Year A, p. 348-9.
[4] http://www.useless-knowledge.com/1234/08june/article004.html
[5] http://www.useless-knowledge.com/1234/08june/article004.html

A Momentary Distraction

So we're having a neighborhood yard sale this Saturday, which has gotten me in a major cleaning-out mode. I've had a huge pile of castaway items stacking up in our basement for almost a year now, and am making one final swoop through the house before the Big Day. In the process, I happened upon some articles, etc. that I had photocopied or torn out and set aside as "important" to me at some point in the past 8 or 10 years.

Here's one that I distinctly remember copying because it seemed so very accurate to my life at the time. As I ran across it again, at least seven years later, as much as I resist being pigeon-hold into gender stereotypes or worse yet, excusing my behavior because of hormones (okay, well maybe I don't really resist that...!), it still resonates with me. I didn't write down any information about the book from which I copied it, but I am assuming it was from some type of daily devotional for women. The title of the book is "Joy for the Journey," but when I google that title, I can't find any information about the actual book. (I am, however, directed to a website of a young evangelist who looks to be about sixteen...!) So I find myself wondering if it does with any other women out there who very clearly ride that monthly "hormonal roller coaster" as I do. I'd love to hear feedback!

"Understanding Your Emotions" by Kathy Babbitt, Habits of the Heart, as found in "Joy for the Journey," p. 19.

"The difference in estrogen levels in a woman's body during various times of the month correlates to a predictable pattern of behaviors and emotions. In general, during the first week of her cycle she is outgoing, ambitious, optimistic, and self-confident. (FYI, this is where I am now...) During the second week she is hopeful, easygoing, creative,...and has inner strength and a sense of well-being.... The third week she lacks coordination, longs for peace,...is impatient,...and gloomy. The fourth week she is very irritable, touchy, withdrawn,...and lacks self-confidence.

(still quoting) "Whew! Is it any wonder that interpersonal conflicts sometimes seem to come from nowhere? Naturally, these characteristics are not true for all women, and some women struggle with them more than others. Maybe you need to tell yourself, 'Tomorrow or next week will be better' or 'It will soon pass, just hang in there!'" (end quote)

I sometimes walk a fine line between wanting to scream to those around me--especially those who seem to have "issues" with me--"This is me, love me or leave me!" and looking in the mirror and thinking "I don't like you so much today, and it's no wonder others don't either! Let's see what we can do about that, shall we?" And sometimes, I really feel like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. But when I really pay attention to my life, my moods, and my hormonal cycle, this truly seems to make sense to me. Speaking for my husband (albeit without his consent), I think he really loves being married to me during weeks one and two, and could live without me during that third week, and would just as soon leave me during that fourth week. (Feel free to weigh in on this, honey...!)

So anyone, for those of you reading this, what do you think? Am I just crazy, or trying to figure out something for which there is no predictable pattern? Is unpredictability really a GOOD thing, one to be embraced? Or is there something to learning who we are as women, and how we operate physically, chemically, and emotionally that will help us live a richer, fuller, more God-centered life?

Parental Failure??

I'm not quite sure where our middle child is getting his political influence, but it seems he is supporting McCain. His homeroom teacher is former military, so that could be it. I know it's not coming from his dad because he has yet to declare an allegiance to anyone, plus he doesn't talk politics with them very much. At any rate, I wasn't too disturbed by it at first, although I did give my dear son a few of my own reasons for supporting Obama over McCain, namely immigration, gay rights, and women's issues. However, when I was going thru his weekly papers this morning, I discovered this. Perhaps I will need some help in the future putting him on a different track.

The assignment was to "draw an editorial cartoon featuring a candidate on a view or an issue," and to "write an editorial to go with your cartoon." Here is what he wrote:

"Vote McCain '08 for a kind of Bush again. Are you bummed that Bush can't run? Well don't be! McCain's following in his footsteps. This presidential election has McCain all over it. With your help, he'll get there. So vote McCain for a kind of Bush again."

Big, heavy sigh. Have I failed as a parent??!! Am I raising a Republican? Worse yet, am I raising a Bush supporter? Dear God, please no!!

Seriously, the problem is that with Daniel, once he commits to something, he has a really hard time changing his mind because it's so important to him to be RIGHT. (No snide comments here about apples falling from treese or anything, people...!) Perhaps when Obama wins in November, Daniel will see the proverbial light and straighten himself up. :-) In the meantime, your prayers are appreciated!

How to Beat the Winter Doldrums

Two adjoining rooms in a NC hotel for two nights - $230

Gas to and from above NC hotel - $100

Two days of skiing / snowboarding, one day in the rain, one day in the springlike weather - $340

Food for two days for five people - $150

Piles of cold, wet clothes and a 4-hour drive home after a full day on the slopes – N/C

Two days away from it ALL, for amazing fun together as a family – Priceless

Those of you who know us know that our family often leads a crazy, mixed-up life. It’s true. Joel is essentially “on call” 24/7, and rare is the 24 hour period when he doesn’t think or do church at all. Granted, my job as a campus minister is not anywhere close to being as demanding as his job as a solo pastor is, but my hours are odd and often prevent us from doing things together as a family that we relied on heavily prior to my graduation—namely worshipping together and eating lunch together afterwards. And in between Tuesday night Bible studies and Sunday morning chaos, I try to find time to sit at my wheel, read to Michael’s 3rd grade class, let the boys have occasional sleepovers, and help Adam with his algebra homework. So our days are full—very full. And our lives are busy—very busy. But one of the very smartest things we, as parents and partners, have done for the last four years is to take the family on a “winter doldrums” getaway trip. It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve held onto it like a terrier, refusing to let it go. We save for a few months, chinking away here and there, and put any money we receive at Christmas in our vacation budget. Then we pick a long weekend in late January or early February, avoiding typical holiday weekends, and just let the boys skip school so we can enjoy our time together with little or no crowds. This was a real stretch our first year, back in 2005. We were both in seminary, and our savings had dwindled to very little. But something told me that it would be an important thing to do. And I wanted to let the boys experience snow skiing while they were all still young enough to remain undaunted by the challenge of it. So I looked into our nearby options and settled on Cataloochee ski resort, just outside of Maggie Valley, NC. It was less than four hours from Atlanta, and appeared to have relatively inexpensive weekday rates, with a “kids ski free” option if you stayed at certain hotels. So we booked it.

That January night in 2005, we arrived to temperatures well below freezing, and snow was falling the next day as we skiied. It was a huge success, and was great for our family. Our first ski experience was so successful that we made a return trip to Cataloochee the next year, in 2006. The weather was not quite as cooperative that year, but we still had a great time. The year 2007 had long been set aside as a year for our third trip to Disney World, so we took a break from skiing and headed south for a few days in late January. (NB: We made it a “budget trip” by agreeing to listen to a spiel on Marriott timeshares, which was not as annoying as it might sound.) Again, it was just the thing we needed after Joel’s first full year in solo parish ministry, and I was nearing the home stretch of my time in seminary, eyeing graduation in May.
This year, however, we were all eager to return to the slopes. I had hoped it would be feasible to step it up a bit and ski Snowshoe, WV, but alas, our finances dictated that we should simply return to Cataloochee, and the boys were totally fine with that. So off we went this past Sunday, immediately after Rehoboth’s annual congregational meeting where Joel’s terms of call were reviewed and approved.

We arrived at our hotel Sunday night just in time for the Super Bowl kickoff, so Joel got to watch it in peace & quiet while I took the boys to the indoor pool and hot tub. At the half, we headed up for pj’s , pizza, and tucking in so we would be ready for our first day on the slopes. The weather called for rain, but after a lazy morning, we decided we’d head up the mountain anyway. After all, we’d made the trip so that we could ski, and we decided a bit of rain wasn’t going to stop us. (I must admit, though, that I was a bit sick to my stomach when it began to rain almost immediately after we charged $170 to the credit card, with the big “NO REFUND” sign staring at me.) Joel & Adam were determined to snow board, so they headed off on their own, while Daniel, Michael, & I hit the easy slope to remind our bodies how to ski.

After a few runs together, the boys were doing well enough for me to retreat inside for a cup of coffee. They didn’t seem to mind skiing in the rain. However, had it not been for their sheer happiness, I would have been miserable. (Interesting sidenote: I quickly learned that the Mardi Gras tradition for many N’Awlins Cajuns is to head north for skiing. While the resort was far from crowded, there were definitely more people there this time than either of our other two previous times, and I would say well over half of the folks on the slopes were from the New Orleans area. I loved their Cajun drawl and their genuine friendliness.) I wandered in & out for a couple of hours, depending on how fat the rain drops were, either skiing or taking videos / pictures. Michael gave out around 3PM, so I took him back to the hotel for a warm bath, then went back to pick the others up at 4:30.

After another lazy night of swimming and hot tubbing, we were at it again today. The weather was beautiful--hardly ski weather, though. By the end of the day I had shed everything but my ski pants and my David Lamotte “Change” t-shirt. The good thing about only ever experiencing North Carolina skiing is that the standards for “good skiing” conditions are not terribly high. I, for one, was just glad to be dry! It was a great day, and we stayed on the slopes as long as we could before piling in the car and heading home. Our dinner at Huddle House in Dillsboro, NC was a perfect finish to a great family mini-vacation.

We’re headed south on 441 as I type, listening to music together and just reveling in being together for these last few hours. The madness, the chaos, the busy-ness will start back up tomorrow as Joel & I both prepare for our own Ash Wednesday services, the boys head back to school, and we resume “normal” life once again. And soccer x 3 starts up full force this coming Monday. Ay-yi-yi! But this time…these precious few days with each other, with our only task being to have fun—this time will last us a good, long while. Hopefully until this time next year, when we head to Costa Rica for our biggest family vacation EVER, and one for which we’ve already been planning and saving for more than a year. Joel will turn 40 while we’re there, and I wanted it to be a special celebration for him as well as for us. We’ve been graciously given gratis accommodations at Hacienda Pinilla, and look forward to horseback riding, experiencing the Pacific coast, meeting Costa Rican families, hopefully touring a school or two, and just enjoying the beauty of another country. Until then, we will continue to steal pockets of treasured together time when we can get them. And when we don’t think we can make it another day, we will let our minds take us ahead, on to Costa Rica, and dream of what it will be like to spend not just a few days, but a whole week together, laughing & playing & relaxing, with our only task being to have fun.

The “winter doldrums getaway.” I highly recommend it for every family—but especially for families who are in ministry together. Make it a priority. You will find a million reasons why you can’t do it. “There’s not enough money.” “There’s too much to do!” “The timing just isn’t right!” “The kids have school.” “It’s too hard to plan.” But don’t let the excuses win. Find a way to do it. Make a way to do it. It doesn’t have to be an expensive getaway and trust me…those things to do will still be there when you get back. Also, YOU are the parents, not the school. Those of us in ministry don’t get the luxury of “family weekends” that many folks get. And planning? It doesn’t take much, and it can be part of the fun. Don’t let the excuses win. I know it does amazing things for our family’s health and wellbeing, and I imagine it would be wonderful for yours as well. And by the way, if / when you do it, I’d love for you to write me and tell me all about it.

PS - Pictures and videos will soon follow, I hope!

My Own Brief Statement of Faith

Seminary has been an amazing journey for me, and while I am still, in many ways, the same person I was six years ago, I have also learned much about my faith and the God we worship & serve. While I do believe that the path of Christianity down which I am wandering is the right path for me, I am not arrogant enough to believe that God's plan can be limited by the ways of this world. God loves each and every one of us, and has a desire to be with each of us for eternity--whatever that may look like. I do believe that God can and will accomplish this as only God can. I continue to believe that God's church is for all, and that ordination should be open to all persons whom God calls and who have the support of their local governing body--church or presbytery. I believe that faith is, first and foremost, a gift, and that all of our lives should be lived in gratitude for all that God has done for us. I believe in a loving, merciful God who is pained by the injustices in the world, rejoices with each of us as we rejoice, and weeps with each of us as we weep. It is in service to this God that I am to be ordained, it is this God to whom I give thanks for the many blessings in my life, and it is this God whom I strive to love and worship every day.

Heaven on Earth

Do you ever just have one of those days? Not one of those days where you wish you'd never gotten up, but one of those days that you're so very GLAD to be up and alive? That's what yesterday was for me. It was pure bliss! What made it so great, you ask? Well, let me tell you...

First, I woke up and lay in bed reading some more of my new favorite book, Eat, Pray, Love. http://www.elizabethgilbert.com/eatpraylove.htm. I drank coffee and read the paper as I listened to the rain turn to sleet. I piled the boys in the car to pick Adam up from a sleepover. Traffic was very light, and the snow started to fall on our way over. I visited with the sleepover mom and enjoyed chatting with someone new.

We ate lunch with my parents, then came home and I spent two hours at my wheel, crafting six new mugs, a vase, and a bowl as the Indigo Girls serenaded me from their 1200 Curfews CD. http://www.indigogirls.com/discographyandlyrics/1200curfews.html. Joel made it home just in time for dinner--Chinese delivery--at my folks' house. They'd never had anything delivered to their house except pizza, and were quite taken with the notion. I love sharing the little joys of sub/urban living with them. :-) We packed up some leftovers and headed home, enjoying the cold crisp air and the snowmen and women we met along the way. I tucked the boys in, then tucked myself in with more reading. I fell asleep with a book in my hands, and a heart full of gratitude.

Yesterday will carry me for quite a long time, I think.

Sermon: Hope Has a Voice

A sermon preached today, January 13th 2007, at the church of my childhood, Henry Memorial Presbyterian, in Dublin, GA. Comments and feedback are welcomed and appreciated!

Isaiah 42:1-9
1Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. 2He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; 3a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice. 4He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth; and the coastlands wait for his teaching.
5Thus says God, the LORD, who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it, who gives breath to the people upon it and spirit to those who walk in it: 6I am the LORD, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, 7to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness. 8I am the LORD, that is my name; my glory I give to no other, nor my praise to idols. 9See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare; before they spring forth, I tell you of them.

Matthew 3:13-4:1
13Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 14John would have prevented him, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?" 15But Jesus answered him, "Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness." Then he consented. 16And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased." Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.

It’s good to be back here, as always. Since my graduation from seminary, I have enjoyed a luxurious summer being “just a mom,” and in August, began my job as the Presbyterian campus minister at Emory University. We have a small, but faithful group of students who gather for worship each Sunday at Emory Presbyterian Church, and for Bible study and fellowship every Tuesday night.

Our ministry strives to be one that is inclusive, faithful, challenging, and comforting. Together, we seek to discover what God is saying to us and might be doing through us in the here & now. I love it.

My call to campus ministry took me to heaven’s gate last weekend…to Montreat, NC where more than 800 college students gathered together for the annual collegiate conference. I must admit—being there as a campus minister was wonderful. I had the best of both worlds—the energy and passion of youth, without the responsibilities of knowing their whereabouts at every given moment.

We stayed at the mountain home of a dear friend, and enjoyed our time together –preparing and sharing meals and playing games, as well as our time in small groups and larger sessions. The conference theme was Hope Has a Voice, and building on today’s text as well as my experience in Montreat, I have also chosen that as the title of my sermon today.

The lectionary has us at the baptism of Jesus. It’s a puzzling text for many, just as it was a puzzling event for John. Imagine it. John is preaching, doing his thing, by the Jordan River.
We’ve just heard, at the beginning of chapter 3, about John’s unusual wardrobe and diet…camel’s hair and locusts. I can just picture him, can’t you? Lumbering around, his mumblings increasing in volume as he proclaims, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near!”

Preaching a gospel of social consciousness, he urges those listening to bear fruit worthy of repentance, cautioning that those trees which do not bear good fruit will be cut down and burned. “I baptize you with water…but the one coming after me is greater. I am not worthy to carry his sandals. HE will baptize you with the Holy Spirit, and with fire!”

And then…and then…the greater one comes. The greater one comes and asks that John baptize him. John objects. “I’m the one who needs to be baptized, not you!” [1]
And we get that. We get John’s objection. Because here is this man Jesus, the SON OF GOD, for pete’s sake. We would daresay that this man, this Savior, would not even NEED baptism, much less by someone like John.

Jesus insists. “Do it. God’s work, putting things right all these centuries, is coming together right now in this baptism.” So John did it. And the heavens opened up, and the dove-like spirit came down, and God spoke. “This is my Son, chosen and marked by my love, delight of my life.”

Then Jesus went into the wilderness to be tempted.

Going into the wilderness to be tempted. That phrase has new meaning for me as I minister with and among college students, away from home and the hawk-like parental supervision that most of their parents have doled out.

For you see, as someone who was IN college at one time—for all of the good things that college is—the chance to spread ones wings, the chance to make ones own decisions about many things, the chance to live with and among friends 24/7—for all the good things that it is, it is very much like going into the wilderness to be tempted.

But I’m getting ahead of myself…and ahead of the text.

Baptism. In our tradition, we typically administer the sacrament of baptism in infancy—signifying that we believe God’s call on our lives happens long before we can say yes to God. The “decision” for God, if you can call it that, is typically made by one’s parents. But its not really a “decision” for God as much as it is an awareness of God’s grace and an acknowledgement of what God has already done for us.

And so we baptize infants.

We baptize infants before they are old enough to understand, vowing to nurture them along the way as a community of believers.

We baptize infants and bring them to church as often as we can. We teach them in VBS, we chair committees that oversee their activities, and we marvel as they grow right before our very eyes in the weeks between each children’s moment.

We baptize infants and then send them off to church camp or Montreat when they are in middle and high school, and they have mountaintop experiences.

We baptize infants and then ask them to assume positions of church leadership…youth elder, or serving as a representative on the nominating committee.

We baptize infants, and then send them off to college…to the wilderness to be tempted…where our campus ministries, if they are even present, are suffering—underfunded and all but ignored.

Whether you are consciously aware of it or not, when we take part in a baptism, we are vowing to nurture that child in his or her faith life for years to come. I daresay that when ANY church baptizes an infant, that church is taking a vow on behalf of the whole body of Christ to nurture that child into a life of faith.

And yet…and yet…when they graduate high school and leave the safety and comfort of their back-home family of faith, we provide little or nothing for them.

There’s just something wrong with that.

Now I know that now is not the time for a soapbox rant, but I can’t pass up the chance to put in a plug for our forgotten college students. Because last weekend, as I sat in the middle of Anderson Auditorium in Montreat, surround by 18 to 22 year olds, feeling simultaneously very old and very young, I was amazed at what I was a part of.

We were all captivated by a student group from Virginia Tech as they shared with us some of their memories and experiences from last April when a lone gunman went on a shooting rampage on their campus.

We heard from Heidi, a young woman who had been shot three times in the leg. She shared with us her journey of pain and recovery. Every day, she wore a t-shirt emblazoned with the word “hope.” She became the embodiment of hope for many of us.

We heard from Shane Claiborne, a young adult who has ventured into a way of life that is beyond alternative in today’s culture. Ten years ago, at the age of 21, he and several of his friends founded an alternative community in inner city Philadelphia known as The Simple Way.
Here, he lives communally with others, working side by side to embody the gospel for those whom many people would just as soon forget. The students at the conference loved him.

We heard from Ishmael Beah, author of the NY Times bestseller A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier. In his book, Beah, now twenty-seven years old, tells his story. “At the age of twelve, he fled attacking rebels and wandered his homeland, rendered unrecognizable by violence. By thirteen, he’d been picked up by the government army. Beah, at heart a gentle boy, found that he was capable of truly terrible acts. Eventually released by the army and sent to a UNICEF rehabilitation center, he struggled to regain his humanity and to reenter the world of civilians, who viewed him with fear and suspicion. His story is an amazing one of redemption and hope.” [2]

The students listened in awe and amazement as he closed his address to them with these words. “We are all capable of becoming monsters if the circumstances are there. Likewise, we are all capable of doing good. When the good in a person is nurtured, we can do amazing things.”

Part of what we promise to do each and every time we baptize an infant—or an adult, for that matter-- is to nurture that person. To love, support, and nurture that which is good in that person. It is our job as the body of Christ to do that for one another.

Jesus was baptized, then went into the wilderness to be tempted. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never worried too much about Jesus giving in to temptation. I mean, sure, hindsight is 20/20, but even if I didn’t know how the temptation story ended, I wouldn’t worry too much. After all, he is the God with Us, our Creator God incarnate. Stronger than any temptor’s snare.

We’ve been baptized, just like Jesus was. And just like Jesus, we are tempted in the wilderness. We leave the quiet, calm of our places of our baptisms each Sunday and enter the wilderness that is our violent, hopeless, power-hungry, mixed-up world to be tempted.

We are tempted to lust for power.
We are tempted to desire what others have.
We are tempted by hopelessness and apathy.
We are tempted to respond to injustice in violent ways.
We are tempted to live by society’s values rather than God’s values.
We are tempted to shun those who are different from us.
We are tempted to believe that the problems “out there” are not “our” problems.

But we forget. We forget that we have been baptized into a community of believers. We have been marked as God’s own. We forget that at our baptism, God looked on and said, “This is my child, chosen and marked by my love, the delight of my life.”

Isaiah reminds us what God said and continues to say to God’s chosen & beloved:
6I am the LORD, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, 7to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness.

We are baptized and we are tempted, yes. But we have been called in righteousness. God has taken our hand, and has promised to keep us.

What I saw in the eyes and hearts of those 800 college students was the desire to live as if that made a DIFFERENCE in their lives. I saw a renewed passion to live a life of hope, to be a voice of hope. The conversations I heard as I wandered around towards the end of our weekend were things like, “I thought I knew what I wanted to do with my life, but now I’m having to rethink it all.” “I still want to be a (fill in the blank), but I want to find a way for what I do to make a difference in the world.”

Those students left that mountaintop gathering eager to be a light to all the nations. They left desiring to open the eyes of the blind. They left committed to bring the prisoners out from the dungeon. They left with the firm and certain knowledge that hope DOES have a voice, and that the voice of hope is them. The voice of hope is us.

We have been baptized.

We have been and will be tempted.

We have been called in righteousness.

God has taken us by the hand, and has promised to keep us.

We are the voice of hope in this broken and fearful world in which we live.

We are God’s people, Christ’s body, here on earth.

We are God’s children, chosen and marked by God. We—you & I—are the ones in whom God delights.

We are.

The question is…What difference does it make?

Does it make any difference at all?

I pray that it does.

Amen.







[1] The Message
[2] www.alongwaygone.com

Where the sacred meets the secular...a rambling.

For the past few weeks in our weekly PCM Bible study (Break@8), we've been sharing song lyrics that have significance to us--particularly theological significance. I brought one in first, just to sort of set the tone and expectations. Yes, it was an Indigo Girls song...The Wood Song. Oddly, it's my favorite song, and I have yet to hear it live. Sad. Anyway, it's been fun to share the songs together, to delve deeply into the lyrics with each other and see where the secular might intersect with the sacred. We've had Coldplay, Jars of Clay, U2, and Switchfoot. It's an exercise that has reminded me of the uncertainty of youth, and the search for answers that, when you are a young adult, you think will eventually come. But they don't. What happens, I think, is that if you're lucky, you get comfortable with the fact that there are very few, if any, real answers to the questions that matter most. I don't think life is about finding "the answer." Life is about the conversations that we have along the way as we search for it, knowing that we'll never really find "it." And being okay with that.

I heard a preacher (I think it was Vic Pentz) criticize the ancient fable about the blind men and the elephant. You know the one. It is the story of six blind men who visit the palace of the Rajah and encounter an elephant for the first time.

The first blind man put out his hand and touched the side of the elephant. "How smooth! An elephant is like a wall." The second blind man put out his hand and touched the trunk of the elephant. "How round! An elephant is like a snake." The third blind man put out his hand and touched the tusk of the elephant. "How sharp! An elephant is like a spear." The fourth blind man put out his hand and touched the leg of the elephant. "How tall! An elephant is like a tree." The fifth blind man reached out his hand and touched the ear of the elephant. "How wide! An elephant is like a fan." The sixth blind man put out his hand and touched the tail of the elephant. "How thin! An elephant is like a rope."

An argument ensued, each blind man thinking his own perception of the elephant was correct. The Rajah, awakened by the commotion, called out from the balcony. "The elephant is big," he said. "Each man touched only one part. You must put all parts together to find out what an elephant is like."


This pastor made a formidable argument against using that analogy for God. Likewise, "serious problems" with the elephant argument can be found here as well: http://www.ptm.org/98PT/SepOct/Elephant.htm But I still like to think of God's Truth as an elephant. We are each holding on for dear life to the part of God that we've been given, the part that is more proximal to us, or just the part that someone else showed us a long time ago. And the part that we're holding onto is comfortable, and we feel as if we know it. But that's not all there is to the beast. I don't know about you, but I'm glad that I don't know all there is to know about God. The God I worship is living and dynamic. Stable yet fluid. Incomprehensible yet personal. Mysterious yet certain. The ultimate paradox.

I fear that many young adults today see religion, and Christianity in particular, as a way of life that limits one's intellectual self, as if one must choose between being an intellectual and being a person of faith. And truthfully, for too many years, Christians were guilty of believing they possessed the truth, that they fully knew God, and even owned God. But thanks to brilliant minds who asked and addressed really tough questions, our view of God is wider and bigger than it was a century ago. And thanks to brilliant minds who continue to ask and address really tough questions, our view of God GETS wider and bigger with each passing day.

Our challenge is not an easy one. We Christians have dug quite a hole for ourselves. But I've got my shovel and I'm going to work, one scoop at a time, until the hole is filled. I pray that one day, we will ALL be able to look around us and see the fullness of the world that God created, and all the many gifts of wonder and diversity that it has to offer.

And so as I work among these college students, I hope to share with them ways that I see God at work in places where we might least expect it. I hope to share with them how they can see God at work in the simple moments of each day if we but keep our eyes open and our minds willing. I hope to share with them how God can use people even when they are not believers, or even when their personal intent is somehow different. I hope I can impress upon them that God really is bigger than any labels or any faith tradition. And I hope, most of all, that can help them be at peace with the fact that there really aren't any always-reliable, always-right answers to life's greatest questions. God just IS, and that's okay.

Conundrum

I truly love the concept of blogging. It helps me to keep my eyes open to those "glimpses of grace" (http://glimpses-of-grace.blogspot.com/ is my friend Whitney's blog...it's one of my favorites) in my day to day life. The problem is that while I see these glimpses of grace everywhere, my life is not conducive to writing them down as often as I would like.

For instance, yesterday as I was leaving Java Monkey from a wonderful lunch / break with my friend Wendy (http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=713636122&ref=ts), I encountered a young man who was apparently blind, learning how to use his cane. He was maybe 10 or 12, lean, with chocolate brown skin. There was a thirty or forty-something year old gentleman, obvioulsy sighted, giving the young man instruction. It was a beautiful sight. As I watched I couldn't help but think about the way we help each other navigate our faith life. There are people in my life, as I'm sure there are in yours as well, who watch me flounder around with my cane, learning my way, correcting me gently when I make a misstep. As is said in seminary, "That will preach." One day.

However, it's not always glimpses of grace that strike me, but sometimes it's "periods of panic." Like seeing the back of my son's Georgia History teacher's truck.

I knew early on that we would have "issues" with him. It's inevitable that you will have issues with at least one teacher when you have a 13-year-old son who can be both adorable and a real jerk simultaneously. I love Adam, but...well...he's thirteen. Very Thirteen. Anyway, those who know me well know that I love bumper sticker theology. You can pretty much tell which way I lean just by examining the back of my van..."God bless the people of every nation," "COEXIST," and the HRC flag adorn my back window, along with a Rehoboth / PCUSA sticker, a "Life is good" sticker and a sticker of a coffee cup. So I pay attention to people's bumper stickers. Here is what I discovered on the back of Mr. Chambers truck.

"George Bush is saving your ass whether you like it or not."
"I'd rather hunt with Dick Cheney than drive with Ted Kennedy."
"Cats--the other white meat"
"National Rifle Association"
"University of Georgia" (Okay, so I have no problem with that one...)

Now, what I really want to do is make my own sticker and sneak it onto the back of his car. It would say "Dear Friend, Jesus Christ saved my ass two thousand years ago. George Bush is not saving asses--he's making an ass of himself."

But then, I went to his teacher website and realized that I'd be fighting a losing battle. http://fc.dekalb.k12.ga.us/~CHRISTOPHER_S_CHAMBERS/. Sigh. I guess we'll just have to endure. He's just such a far cry from his last year's social studies teacher, Thomas Bodnar. (He is Diane Thorne's son, for those of you in the CTS community. http://fc.dekalb.k12.ga.us/~THOMAS_R_BODNAR/ All last year, Adam was excited about religion, politics, and all things related. It was a wonderful year. Sigh. I miss Mr. Bodnar.

And while I'm on the topic of bumper stickers, another one I saw in the middle school parking lot said: "Directions to heaven--Turn right and stay together." Does "turn right" mean "repent?" Does it mean "right" as in right-left / conservative-liberal? And what's with "stay together?" I'm not so sure I like the theology of that--as if we should just be a huddled mass as we travel the road to heaven. Whatever. There was another sticker on that car, but I wasn't able to read it. I'm dying to know what it said. Maybe I can find the car again and report on it.

So anyway, glimpses of grace...periods of panic. I don't know about you, but I suppose I am grateful for them both, for each one, I believe, makes me a better person. Each one encourages me to reflect on my life and the lives of those around me. And that's always a good thing. Just ask my new friend, the Dalai Lama.

Resolution

If he were a garbage collector or a construction worker, then he wouldn't be the same Joel that I've known and loved for all these years. With that said, I'm glad he does what he does. It's even better that God has called him to a place where he works amidst many loving, supportive, encouraging, grateful folks who appreciate who he is and the work God is doing through them at the church they serve. It's time for me to focus HARD on the positive and not let the negative get me down. I'm letting go of it, because I've realized that I just can't carry it around with me anymore. It's just too self-destructive.

Here's to a better day!

Lamentation

So I'm beginning to wish I were married to a garbage collector...or a contstruction worker...or someone who did something rather mundane that could be a 9 to 5 job. I'll bet the hourly pay would be much better, and I wouldn't be surprised if the overall salary were better either. And I can't imagine that talk of garbage or construction would dominate our lives, or that people would come up with such a variety of creative excuses for missing work (and if they did, well...who cares?!), or that the system in place would bow to the whims and wishes of one half-crazy employee, just because he or she has "always been like that." A garbage collector's Thursday work probably wouldn't be interrupted, forcing him to go back on Saturday afternoon--his day off--to finish the job that the garbage wouldn't let him finish on Thursday. A construction worker's day off on Friday wouldn't have to be traded for working on Saturday, but would really and truly be a day off--or if it did, he'd at least make overtime pay for the work. And his vacation days that were "left over" at the end of the year wouldn't just disappear, but might be bought back, or possibly carry over. After all, what's the point of taking vacation at all when you're always on call anyway? If I were married to a garbage collector or a construction worker, I'll bet we could even sleep in on Sunday mornings if we really needed or wanted to, or have an occasional weekend getaway like a "normal" family. We could enjoy lazy Sunday afternoons at home, and have Sunday supper together before the week begins again. If only he were a garbage collector or a construction worker.

Then again, I guess the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. I probably would be miserable as the wife of a garbage collector or construction worker. I doubt life would be any easier, and probably even harder. I'm just really caught up on how incredibly stuck I feel on THIS side of the fence today, that's all.

I hope it's okay to curse God, to be really angry at God, because right now I am. Damn this call.

My new friend

Today I went up to the boys' elementary school to help corral the kids for school pictures. I was not looking forward to it, but have been wanting to help out more at school this year, and the timing was right for my schedule. So I agreed to do it.

It was a rather mundane task, for the most part except for one student. He's my newest friend. His name is Reggie, and he is visually impaired. I'm guessing he's probably 11 or 12 years old, and is the most amazing kid. All smiles, great personality, and handsome to boot. He uses his cane with such proficiency, and has a great attitude towards others and was a wonderful friend. We chatted as we walked down the hall together, and I told him how impressed I was with the way he could get around.

"I've been here a long time!" he told me. "But I'm going to a new school on the 16th."

"Oh really?" I asked. "Where?"

"In Macon," he replied.

"Wow! Are you excited?"

"Yeah, but I can only come home on the weekends, so I'll miss my friends."

We continued to make our way down the hall, then got to the picture room. His hand grazed my travel mug as he made his way to the waiting chairs. "Someone has coffee," he said.

I was amazed. I guess he could smell it. "Yep, that's my coffee," I told him.

"Can I have some?" he asked, grinning beautifully.

"Oooooh, Reggie--I'm pretty selfish with my coffee." He laughed.

A few minutes later, I needed to go get another class, so I bid Reggie farewell. "Smile big for your picture now, Reggie. I'm leaving my coffee here--don't you go drinking it!"

My new friend laughed. "I'm gonna eat it all up!" he said with a big grin.

What a cool kid. What a wonderful morning.

My success for the day

Today was the day I taught the Jonah lesson at DPC. It went really well, and it further convinces me that we really do need to work harder at our adult Christian Education. The paper I wrote for the Abdullah award at graduation was all about making the church school hour more interesting. (It was actually supposed to be titled "How to Make the Sunday School Hour the Most Interesting Hour of the Week," although I altered it to be the "Adult Sunday School Hour." And honest to God, it was the ONLY award whose title drew snickers from those attending graduation as it was read aloud. Now on one hand, that didn't bother me one bit because it was a 500 cash prize, therefore making it worth a few snickers. But on a higher level it did, because what does that say about the seriousness with which we take Christian education? Anyway...)

Anyway, today I went out on a limb with this lesson and taught in a way that included learning styles other than the typical verbal and auditory to which most adults are accustomed. There were about 60 women there, mostly age 60+. After going thru the five main learning styles very briefly, I made my case for doing more than just talking at them. I handed out a coloring picture of Jonah, and as expected, they looked at me like I was crazy. "You want us to color??" one of them asked. I smiled and replied, "If you'd like to." I had left a few crayons on each table, then went about the business of "interpreting the lesson," which is what they call it. We talked about much of what I wrote in the previous Jonah post, then I closed with having them cut out pre-made heart chains (think old-fashioned paper dolls) that I had tucked into construction paper whales. The four heart of the chain bore the words "God's love and grace," to hopefully remind them that the story of Jonah is about more than a fish and a man. It's about God's amazing love and grace that reaches far beyond where we might expect. The women loved the cut-out activity. They loved the lesson and many of them asked questions or made comments to me afterwards. It was great! But the best part was that the fact that when the lesson was over, there were quite a few pictures of Jonah scattered among the tables, colored by grandmothers who had probably not colored in years. And I'll bet...I'll just bet...that it's a lesson and a story they won't soon forget. I'd call it a success.

A stupid little thing...

Okay, this is a really stupid thing to write in a blog about, but I decided I needed a "lighter" post tonight. Besides, if Adam Walker Cleveland (http://www.pomomusings.com/) can get away with some of the stuff he writes in his blog, then surely I can write about this. The reference to the Mexican restaurant in the previous post made me crave a trip to Los Bravos, so Joel and I went there for lunch today. They have very nice bathrooms. Today, I noticed that they had a new paper towel dispenser. It's a cool little contraption, not at all annoying like those stupid motion sensor things which I can never get to work. (I understand they are "more sanitary," and that they "consume less," but the darn things just don't work very well.) Anyway, the (apparently new) one in the ladies room at Los Bravos is by a company called Tork. I tried to find it on their website, but it's not listed, so maybe it's a new product. At any rate, if you are a woman in the Decatur area, check it out the next time you're in there. It gets two thumbs up from me! And if you, by some odd chance, are in need of an institutional paper towel dispenser, I highly recommend this one for ease of use and customer satisfaction.

Just another fish story?

So I'm the "Bible interpreter" for the October circle meetings for the Presbyterian Women of Decatur Pres this coming Tuesday. I went last month to hear Todd Speed "introduce" the year's study on Jonah and Ruth, and I did a loose "textual study" with the Emory PCM students for our weekly Bible study, Break@8, one Tuesday night a couple of weeks ago. And as I do when I preach, I've spent pockets of time here & there giving thought to the whole Jonah story in preparation for this lesson next week. Finally, this morning I sat down to study the actual lesson and begin my final preparation.

The writer of the lesson suggests that the story of Jonah in / was intended to be parody--that there is great humor lace throughout that, while it might not be obvious today, would be glaring in the time of its origin. For instance--Jonah does not meet his "call" to prophecy in the "expected" way. He does not humbly and quietly respond "Who me, Lord? Who am I but a small boy / girl, and of what use can I be to you?" As a matter of fact, Jonah doesn't SAY anything at all. he just merely walks away--heading in the other direction as fast as he can. Now, I guess I can see where this might be humorous. But as a second career seminarian, married to a second career seminarian, I guess this might just hit too close to home to be humorous...this response that is decidedly closed-mouth that sends Jonah running in the OTHER direction. Been there, done that. And yes, I did eventually go to Ninevah, kicking and screaming and dragging my heels all th way. But perhaps I'm just not far enough into my story to see the humor yet. Whatever...

Then there's the matter of the sailors, the supposedly "pious" sailors. Surely you have heard the phrase "curse like a sailor?" Well, sailors in Jonah's day were of the same reptuation. One did not typically use the adjective "pious" to describe sailors. So that's the other humorous bit, according to the writer of this lesson--the enounter Jonah has with the pious sailors is something that would obviously NOT happen in Jonah's day. And the fact that the write talks of pious sailors would have been hilarious to early readers. Well, okay...

But what struck me as most humorous is not the irony that might be found in the story itself, but the fact that, in more recent days, MUCH effort has gone into attempting to prove that a fish large enough to swallow a man could have actually existed. Seriously. If you doubt, here are just a couple of references to check out.
^ The Scientific Monthly, March, 1940, p. 227
^ "Essays of an Atheist," Woolsey Teller. Copyright 1945, The Truth Seeker Company, Inc.,

Surely others find that humorous, yes? Much like the quest for the historical Jesus, this grasping for scientific proof of the plausibility of a story found in the Bible is so far off the mark, in my opinion. I find myself time and time again returning to Barth's "I couldn't care less if snakes could talk. What I'm interested in is what the snake said" anecdote which I first heard in Brueggemann's OT Survey class in the Fall of 2002. But then I'm reminded of what Rodger used to tell us in CE classes when we studied developmental theory with him--that most people NEVER reach Piaget's formal operational stage of development. Hmmmm...

So where does that leave us? Are those of us who are willing to wrestle and struggle with the text on a less literal level destined to forever be at odds with those who consider the Bible to be THE Word of God, giving it even more authority than the Living, Walking, Breathing Word of God that we see in Christ himself? What do we do with the person who holds up the Bible and claims that "This is the only one I answer to!" as if the words alone on those pages hold any contextual relevance for us today all by themselves? Not that they are insignficant, mind you. But the words alone--apart from the God we continue to come to know on a daily basis, both through studying about the life of Jesus Christ and through faithful conversations about those "insignificant" words found on the pages of the Bible with fellow believers--have little or no meaning or relevancy to most folks today.

So those literalists can go on about their business of trying to prove that one could actually be swallowed by a whale, survive for 72 hours in his belly, then be vomited out. But as for me, I am far more concerned about what went on in Jonah's head while he was in that fish's belly. I am far more curious about what God said to Jonah while he languished amongst that whale's entrails. And finally, I am far more amazed at how God can, will, and does use a variety of nasty, dirty, smelly, disgusting, yucky "fish bellies" today to give us thick-headed humans time to reflect on God's call to us, and dare I say, interact with God's very self.

So okay, yes, I understand that time in the bellies of fish can be a good thing...an experience that strengthens one's faith and bolsters one's witness. But please, God, if I promise that I can reflect on and interact with you in a Mexican restaurant just as well, couldn't you send me there for spell instead? I'm growing a bit weary of fish bellies.

Centering

I was angry this morning. Surely you could tell by reading that last post. After stewing around and huffing and puffing and ranting and raving, I was still angry after lunch. I headed down to my "studio," which is actually our garage that houses my wheel, kiln, clay, etc. and busied myself by making a few coffee mugs. (I'm making them to sell at a friend's coffee shop.) I made three fairly quickly, and sat staring at another lump of clay.

For anyone who has never thrown on a wheel, or hasn't heard me talk about the therapeutic benefits of it, just know that it can be a healing process. When I sit at a wheel, time seems to stop. I am immersed in the act of creating--of readying, centering, opening, raising, and shaping a lump of clay into a beautiful vessel. It is a wonderful thing for me.

So anyway, the lump of clay and I just sat there, looking at one another. "What do you want to be?" I asked it. With anger still welling up in my heart, the word "healing" popped into my mind, and the clay and I decided it should be a chalice. I'm not great at making communion plates, but I've gotten pretty good at making chalices. So I quickly whipped up a chalice top--the part the wine / juice goes into. Then I began to craft the bottom, or the stem. This is really only slightly harder to do, mainly because the natural inclination, for me anyway, is to pull the clay outward so that it begins to resemble a bowl. But with the stem of a chalice, it must be bigger at the bottom, and go inward as it rises. There are tricks to make it do that, and since I'm not yet good enough to do it easily, I rely on those tricks. Usually they work for me. But today I bombed. I can usually salvage my mistakes, but today I gave up on not one, but two chalice bottoms. See, the key is that when you make a chalice, you have to make the bottom and top in one sitting, or else it's a hassle to make sure they dry at the same rate and are ready to assemble at the same time. So NOT making one is not an option I usually give myself. Finally, on my third attempt, I got the message the clay (?) was sending me. I made a stem for this chalice that was / is far from perfect. It twists grotesquely from bottom to top, and looks as if it was forced into its shape rather than gradually and carefully coerced and cajoled into its shape. Hmmmm...

I don't know what this experience means for me and my anger right now--I'm still pondering it. But I do know that I look forward to assembling the chalice, with its beautiful top and grotesque-looking stem. Perhaps I will glaze it and keep it nearby as a reminder. There's something there about the power of a heavy hand and the way that it can hinder creation, reconciliation, growth, healing, and wholeness. I'm still pondering...

Classes for Wives

Okay, so recently when the AJC had an article about the "classes" for pastors' wives at a denominational seminary which shall remain nameless, I scoffed...as did I'm sure most of you. And I was angry. Livid. Then I got on with my life. But as I've lived through my husband's first two years of ministry, I have decided that there are some classes from which I would have benefitted. Here are some examples:

* How to be Carrie Underwood / Tammy Wynette and Still Maintain Your Independence (you know...Stand by Your Man!)
* The Pastor's (or in our case Pastors') Night Out (I've discovered what works best often reminds me of a Jimmy Buffet song, which I cannot name here because, well, I am the pastor's wife...)
* How to Teach your Children to Respect their Elders when the Elders (as in older people, not church leaders) Don't Always Show Respect to Others
* How To Love In Spite Of...
* How to Flick Someone Off Without Being Noticed
* How to Make a Casserole in Under Ten Minutes
* How to Look Like All is Well Even When It's So Very Far From It
* How to Make the Fat Lady Sing (you know, so it will be over, already!)
* How to State Your Mind without Opening Your Mouth (bumper stickers work for me...)
* How to Make Sure Church Remains Safe and Fun for your Kids In Spite of the Evil Within(this is a serious one...)
* What to Say When People Think Your Spouse Does it for the Money

So that's it for now. I'm sure I will think of more as the days go by, and will add them as I am able. Until then, your suggestions for teachers or teaching tips are much appreciated!