All the New Beginnings

If you want to read about the beginning… and the beginning… and the beginning…  Go ahead and pick up the daily office, today.  I’m going to throw some vaguely related comments into the mix, based on the Psalm on this first #MinistryMonday of a new year.

Psalm 3:3 stood out to me, specifically, as the engine of my vehicle cut out twice on my six minute drive to work, this morning:

“But you, O Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, and the one who lifts up my head” (NRSV). 

It was the part about lifting up my head that really got me…

I’ve spent some time, in the past, writing about the people who have often surrounded me and held up my arms when I couldn’t (and I’m going to return to that a little bit with this post), but there was something significant to me when I also stopped to think about how sometimes God is the only one available to us, and it’s a good thing God is willing to lift our heads… even when we would rather bang them on the steering wheel and give up:

This picture isn’t from today… 

 It’s not even the same vehicle…

But it does give you a look into parts of my life:

So here’s the short story.  I drove the crappy van to work today, because the good van has a broken window.  I kid you not.  You read that right.  The good van is the most broken at this particular moment.  My husband took that one… ya know… to deliver the mail…

I’ve been thinking about how important it is to me to have a reliable form of transportation—and why.  When I was growing up, my dad worked out of town a lot, and my mom didn’t drive much (read this, never over 35mph, so this severely limited the number of roads on which she could safely travel).  Getting places was a real challenge until I secured the coveted driver’s license at age sixteen and a couple of days (I don’t remember how many days, but I was seriously ticked that I didn’t have that license in hand at 12:02am on my birthday)!  I was very blessed to have a new, leased car (Dad worked for Chrysler), and I took off in that Dodge Neon and never looked back.  The freedom to get where you need to go is exhilarating!

I would, however, be remiss if I neglected to mention that there were many people in my life who came alongside me to take me places until I could get there myself.  Parents of my friends would pick me up in all kinds of weird locations (like the Burger King parking lot, since there was a back road through a subdivision that led there) in order to help me (mostly) avoid walking on roads with too much traffic for pedestrians (minus that one time I walked down M-59 to secure my high school course schedule)!  The year when the school district couldn’t afford bus transportation for the first few weeks was a challenge, because I had to depend on neighbors who were older and so much cooler than me, but I survived.  People from church would drive out of their way (by many miles) to get me to worship services and events.  And of course there were grandparents who jumped in whenever they could.  I never forgot any of that and did a fair share of chauffeuring others as something of a “pay it forward,” before that was a thing.

But to this day, transportation issues stress me out!  I want my super reliable vehicle to always work when I need it to.  I do not want to be stalled on the side of the road when it is still dark out.  Is that too much to ask?

Maybe.

Today this has me thinking about what I really need.  Realistically, I got to work with a little bit of patience and engine revving.  I’m safer and more privileged than the majority of the world’s population.  I’ll probably have ‘the good van’ back with a working window before I have to drive a long distance, but if not; I’ll rent something. 

  

John 1:5, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (NRSV).

Even pre-dawn, my headlights worked…

Still, this underscores how deeply our experiences matter, and so do the experiences of others.

I wonder what resources I currently have that could meet a need that someone else has, even if it’s more of a perceived need than a verifiable one (note to self: humanity survived without vehicles for most of history). 

L.

Hit the Ground Crawling

And just like that, “Sacred Days” are over (well, sort of… we still have a couple of days until Epiphany, but some of us have to go back to work), and I found myself flailing wildly, searching for my cell phone in a near panic when my previously mentioned legitimate alarm clock went off at 5am, and I neglected to remember my new plan to turn off electronic devices and pack them away until after the daily office, every morning…

I never do anything halfway, and a phrase I have come to embrace in recent years is, “hit the ground running.” 

However, I feel like, “hit the ground crawling,” might better describe me as of late.

It’s day four of a new year, and… decidedly… I still don’t have it all together.  You would think I’d wake up one of these days finding that this had changed, right?  Here’s a new favorite quote:

“Courage doesn’t always roar, sometimes it’s the quiet voice at the end of the day whispering, ‘I will try again tomorrow.’” –Mary Anne Radmacher

Just a few weeks ago, during the short Advent season which seemed longer than ever, I read about, wrote about, and spoke about peace.  And here we are again:

Psalm 85:8, “Let me hear what God the Lord will speak, for he will speak peace to his people…” (NRSV).

If you’re sitting on the floor, today, wondering how to win the race when you can’t even get out of the blocks; you might pause to remember… It’s not a sprint.  It’s not even a marathon.  Peace is better than chaos, and it begins with us.  Peace is not about being the best but about being who you were meant to be, which most often includes sacrificing everything you thought you wanted for the sake of others.

Did you ever notice how the priests who carried the ark of the covenant across the Jordan river, “stood in the middle of the Jordan, until the entire nation finished crossing over…” (Joshua 3:17) or how we’re called to, “live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us…” (Ephesians 5:2) or how even Jesus did some really weird stuff, seemingly not the kind of things you would expect from Messiah, like spitting on the ground and granting sight through the use of a mud mask (see John 9)? 

Just in case we’re still unclear (and by we, I almost always mean me); it’s not a glamorous life, this following—literally following—to the point of being last… this servanthood that sometimes requires spitting and getting our hands dirty… this crawling around on the floor, knowing that running would be faster but would not incite peace… this sitting in silence, listening to the voice of God…

L.

Week 3: The Joy of Advent

“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy.”
-St. Francis

First one candle… then another… then a third… Soon we find ourselves realizing that light breaks into darkness with the same kind of intensity that joy breaks into suffering—slowly, steadily, increasing in measure as time passes.  Certainly, we are well aware of the contrast between the two.  Light even serves as a means for producing the shadows that can sometimes overwhelm.  And yet, we are also strangely warmed and comforted.

I am not of the opinion that pain must precede joy, but I know that all too often, it does.

Psalm 63:1, “You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water” (NIV).

The holiday season is often consumed by stress, conflict, and depression.  If you happen to be among the luckiest people in the world, this may come mildly in the form of Great Uncle Arthur who won’t share the remote control or turn down the volume when carolers arrive at the doorstep or Grandma Kay who kisses everyone who walks into the room, even first time family guests.  But that’s not really what I mean.  All around the globe, and even in our backyards, there are people who suffer endlessly, because Christmas is coming and the waiting through Advent that should give way to joy isn’t going to end that way for them.  Of course, this is not what we want.  We do not want to live without water.  We do not want our neighbors to live without water.  None of us can live without water!

I’d like to take a moment to use some creative license with the word parched.  Let’s define it as burnt, gasping, or desperate…

I feel relatively confident that Zechariah and Elizabeth were parched. 

I think the general consensus among many Christian traditions is to look at their story and exclaim that God will eventually give us everything we ever hoped for if we will just be faithful.  I think we assume that Zechariah and Elizabeth endured infertility into their old age, just waiting for God to come through, as if this kind of pain was God’s plan all along.  Somehow, though, I don’t think we account for the very real possibility that Elizabeth cried month after month through her late teenage years… 20s… 30s… 40s…  (Gosh, I don’t know, how old were they?) and that Zechariah felt the pain just as deeply.  So when an angel appears to him to tell him about the coming baby, it’s really no wonder he is so stunned he utters words he will later regret and has to shut his mouth for months!  But that’s joy, right?  I mean, we don’t even have to get into the rest of the story where their only child is beheaded, do we?  Is this what they were waiting for?  Could we get a glass of water for Zechariah and Elizabeth, please?

I feel relatively confident that Joseph was parched.

Being ‘betrothed’ in biblical times was not quite the same thing as being in a somewhat monogamous relationship in the 21^st century.  Joseph was essentially married to this very young girl, and although they had not consummated that marriage, breaking up was going to require a divorce!  But she’s pregnant?  This is probably pretty close to the greatest scandal ever, and even though Joseph was kind enough to keep it quiet in public, I would venture to guess he hit the nails just a little bit harder in the workshop that night.  Is this what he was waiting for?  Could we get a glass of water for Joseph, please?

The stories of the righteous old man, Simeon, and the lonely and elderly widow, Anna, always baffle me just a bit.  They essentially held on to witness the coming of Jesus, just so they could die!

Joy is peculiar.

At no point do I look at the advent story and think to myself, “God brought all of this pain into the lives of people in order to bring great joy.”  I legitimately do not believe this is the way it works.  I think God mourned with Zechariah and Elizabeth, and I think God was able to absorb every punch Joseph threw.  I think God held Simeon and Anna in God’s very own arms, decade after decade, as they continued to hope. 

God does not cause suffering, God does not desire suffering.  God does not need suffering in order to create joy.  But because we live in the world, in the way in which it exists, suffering is a very real and present occurrence.

These words might best be our prayer:               

Isaiah 35: 3-4, 6, 10, “Strengthen the feeble hands, steady the knees that give way; say to those with fearful hearts, ‘Be strong, do not fear; your God will come…’  Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert… everlasting joy will crown their heads.  Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away” (NIV).

This is what God does.  God comes.  And God also uses us to bring comfort and joy to the hurting community around us. 

Because it’s just like God to do things this way.  God calls to God’s people, “Who will participate in the redemption of the world?  Who will join me in bringing the fulfillment of the covenant?”

We can provide water to those who are parched. 

Do this.  Say yes.  Light another flame and then stand between the shadows and the suffering.  Draw them near.  In his short life, I think John really ‘got it’ when it came to joy: 

John 3:29-30, “That joy is mine, and it is now complete. He must become greater; I must become less”(NIV).

Jesus was greater.

Be less.

Jesus is joy.

Be joy.

As God’s people, we can create safe places.  It’s not hard to find people who need joy.  Another candle will increase our ability to envelop the sorrow and hold the suffering close.  Sometimes being present is the most important thing we can do.

L.

God Who Tastes

There’s a reason I saved this one for last.  I have never, ever heard anyone preach, teach, or even speak about the God who tastes.  In some way, I think it’s too difficult around which to wrap our minds.  We can wax metaphorical about sight, sound, and touch.  Admittedly, smell was a little more difficult.  But taste is so completely human.  It’s hard to create a sense of spirituality around something so common…

Interestingly, though, if we’re going to embrace the trinity, where Jesus is certainly one of the three; we might have more evidence of a tasting God than any other sense.  How often do we find Jesus around the table?  A lot…

Jesus eats with tax collectors and sinners (see Mark 2).

Jesus presumably eats with his good friends: Martha, Mary, and Lazarus (see Luke 10) and a random guy he finds in a tree (see Luke 19).

Jesus feeds hoards of people with almost nothing… twice… (see Matthew 14 and 15).

The last thing Jesus does with his twelve disciples is to share the first Eucharistic meal (see Matthew 26), and then he becomes the Eucharistic meal… which is fascinating, since he also teaches that we are something of a food additive… salt of the earth (see Matthew 5).

Peter writes that we can actually taste the goodness of the Lord (see I Peter 2).

Jeremiah suggests that we can eat God’s words (see Jeremiah 15), and the author of Hebrews backs it up (see Hebrews 6).  Ezekiel takes it literally (see Ezekiel 3).

Why don’t we ever speak plainly about the God who tastes and… related… the God we can eat?  I’m not sure.  Maybe it’s because we’re afraid of the same repercussions that Jesus faced in John 6 or that the Catholic Church faced in light of a misunderstanding regarding cannibalism!  Seriously… I have no idea!

But clearly, in this search for holistic spirituality that encompasses physical sense as well as mind and spirit, taste is not to be excluded.

Gathering to eat together is one of the most vulnerable, intimate things we can do.  This past week, I learned that there has been a recent study regarding the impact that eating the same foods, with others, has on our relationship and interactions.  One observation from this study was, “Food is about bringing something into the body. And to eat the same food suggests that we are both willing to bring the same thing into our bodies. People just feel closer to people who are eating the same food as they do. And then trust, cooperation, these are just consequences of feeling close to someone” (read the whole article, here).  It’s incredible!  I wonder how we might cooperate more quickly, efficiently, and effectively if we were all eating Jesus!

L.

Holy Tuesday, Year A

I almost feel as if Scripture is throwing punches, this morning.  How ridiculous is that?  But really…

I Corinthians 1:18-20, 25: “For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.  For it is written: ‘I will destroy the wisdom of the wise; the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate.’ Where is the wise person? Where is the teacher of the law? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world…? For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength.”

I’m a pretty smart person, but I’m not claiming this kind of wisdom or intelligence, just to be clear.  I am frustrated, though.  Even my intelligence is frustrated.  And there are multiple reasons for that (most of which I do not have time to delve into, right now).  Over the past few weeks, for example, I have been completely perplexed regarding resurrection and the number of people whose resurrection accounts are recorded in the gospels.  It’s not as if I haven’t read these accounts over and over again.  It’s just that we don’t really talk about them in the same way we talk about Jesus’ resurrection.  But I digress a little bit, because I’m not going to write about that now, either.  In fact, the only reason I’m mentioning it, at all, is because I don’t want all of my readers to get through this post and assume I have lost my mind.  I’m still thinking about important stuff.  But I’m just going to throw it out there; I can’t stop thinking about the Easter Bunny!

Stay with me… Please… Stay with me…

I really don’t like the Easter Bunny.  Now, before anybody starts to imagine my children having a miserable childhood that lacks imagination, let’s get a few things straight.  We have pictures with Santa Claus.  Unicorns are real.  I still get excited when Tinkerbell flies across The Magic Kingdom at night, and I will challenge any teenager who doesn’t believe in pixie dust.  But the Easter Bunny makes me a little bit sick to my stomach (and it’s not all the Reese’s PB eggs… truly…)

I want to write something eloquent to express the importance of this Holy Tuesday, a day that is sometimes forgotten in the preceding and upcoming ‘big ticket events’ of Holy Week, but I keep seeing the Easter Bunny who was waving at me… wildly… from the corner of a church lawn on Palm Sunday.  Are we, perhaps, distracted?

I get fairly bent out of shape when others jump ahead in the Holy Week narrative, because I need to sit with Holy Saturday when it arrives.  (You know… that day when many churches have their Easter egg hunts, but Jesus is dead, so it doesn’t make sense—as a side note, I legitimately appreciate the many churches that have moved their bunnies and eggs to an earlier time, this season, because Holy Saturday is certainly not the time for celebration!)  And yet here I find myself, jumping ahead.  It’s Tuesday, but Saturday’s coming…

I’m going to give myself just a touch of grace, because Jesus jumps ahead on Tuesday, too.

He says, “You are going to have the light just a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, before darkness overtakes you. Whoever walks in the dark does not know where they are going” (John 12:35).

Saturday is dark.  Really, really dark.  Please, get ready to sit with that.  Stop Walking!

What a terrible post for Holy Tuesday.

L.