How about a Ministry Friday? No alliteration—I know, I know. But, the past two weeks have been a nightmare
for routine. Not that I love routines,
anyway. Seriously, though, I have slept
in so many different places and driven so many miles on various routes that I
have often forgotten which house I am in… and sometimes even which state, although
I might be able to reasonably claim it is always
a state of confusion.
On Monday, I walked into a new office, in a
new town, and officially began my new job as Director of Family Ministries, at
a new church, in a new denomination.
That’s a lot of ‘new.’ Less than
a month ago, I was blogging about marking time.
Today, I am deep in the throes of transition, and things have been so
busy I have struggled to read the daily office, let alone write about it. If you want me to be real; I actually forgot
to eat one day. True story.
And then I found myself, this afternoon,
with just enough time and space to crack open my Sacred Ordinary Days planner to
consider that God might be trying to tell me something through these daily
office readings that keep coming back.
Let’s begin with this one, used not long ago
on another day, for another post:
Genesis
29:9, “…for she was a shepherd…”
Although the original intent of this piece
of information seems to have been to relay a literal fact, we often use this
kind of language metaphorically in Christian circles. I have come to love these five little words
so deeply in recent days that I think I would have difficulty communicating the
intensity of emotion attached to them.
This is incredibly frustrating for someone who loves to vomit feelings
in print.
What I can
say is that one facet of my affection for this phrase comes simply from the
word, “she.”
I brought my family to work with me on
Tuesday, and we had this moment when I was giving them a tour of the building
and Miah (age 7) marched right up to the center of the platform in the
sanctuary, turned around to face the (non-existent except for the other six of
us) congregation, and shouted, “Teach me how to preach, Mommy!”
The simplicity of this struck me with
awe. I have no idea if she will ever be
called to vocational ministry, but I know for sure, if she is, she will never
doubt the validity of that call because of her gender. Thank you, God, for denominations that
recognize your call to men and women, alike.
The moment was short, as Miah continued on her exploration
adventure. She thinks this building is a
castle. She is rather upset that she
couldn’t find any unicorns. I might have
told her they are of the invisible variety…
So, thank you, also, for granting the necessary grace to raise imaginative,
strong, non-conformist, passionate, compassionate, social action minded,
inclusive kids (my girls and my boys)
who love you and love people (and mythological creatures).
Then, there was Psalm 105 today. I actually had a pretty good laugh over the
selected verses. This Psalm begins with
praise, wonder, and covenant. After
that, we skip over the history of Israel, exile, and plagues. We come back with:
Psalm
105:45b, “Praise the Lord.”
I’m mostly thinking out loud on this, but I
do question whether or not there is something to be said for occasionally
leaving the pain out of the stories we spin.
Not always. Not even often. But maybe today.
The last Scripture that came into play for
the purposes of the title of this post can be found in Acts 7, where Stephen
speaks, introducing the recitation of Old Testament prophecy, by saying, “the Most High does not live in houses made
by human hands.”
And this part is probably intensely
personal in nature, but I’ve been more than a little stressed out about where
we might live here, and it was something of a wake-up call to remember both that the things we sometimes think
we need might only be wants and that
God has never failed us yet, even though God’s provision has often not looked
the way we expected it to.
As if I needed this particular line of
thought underscored (in bold, italicized print), there’s also this quote from
Common Prayer: “Give me neither poverty nor riches, Lord: but bread for today,
hope for tomorrow.” Well, OK then.
Since we’re avoiding the suffering, let’s
not stop to consider the continuing narratives of Jacob,
Rachel, and Leah… of Israel… of Stephen. These will come soon enough.
Six weeks ago, if anyone had told me what today would be like, I never
would have believed it. I’m fairly
confident that’s consistent with my entire life and the history of the world,
even for strategic planners. I wonder
what might happen next…
L.
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