I remember watching civil rights workers being hosed down by police on the national news. I remember the march on Washington to which hundreds of thousands of people traveled on a hot summer day to hear that "I Have a Dream" speech. I remember President Johnson signing into law the Voting Rights Act. I remember the days, forty years ago this past April and June, when Dr. King and Senator Kennedy were gunned down. I remember wondering if we would ever overcome these losses as a country.
Now I have new memories, and these are realized hope. Last night I watched as the United States of America elected Senator Barack Obama as our next president.
As a person of faith, as an ordained minister, I have never separated what I believe about God from what I practice in my politics. I do not believe that God is a member of the Democratic party, but I do cherish the theological understanding that God always stands with the poor, the downtrodden, those who cannot defend themselves, those who must rely on those who seek justice to pave the way for something better to emerge in the lives of all people. This is, quite simply, what Jesus did with his life.
This is the hope I see for our country once more after eight very long years of leadership from people who by all accounts appear not to share my perspective, theological or political.
I believe we now have a chance to transform ourselves into a country that cares more about people than about controlling the world through aggression. I believe that shared power strengthens people, just as informed faith expands our vision of who and what God is and can be. I believe that allowing ourselves to be instruments of God's faith, hope and love can and does change the world in ways of which we can never conceive or possibly dream. I believe that God With Us is the most powerful force on the planet.
Many people shook their heads, amazed at what they were watching as the electoral map unfolded. "I never thought I would see this in my lifetime," became a mantra. Tear-streamed faces reflected the truth that, indeed, we have overcome something significant and having come this far we can never go back. We can no longer pretend that change isn't possible, that hope is not an active verb, that we cannot create a larger reality of peace and justice that is inclusive of all people. We can no longer ignore the contributions of all Americans as the will of the few without calling those few to accountability for their actions. As people of faith this election and its results have called us to a new beginning of hope that can no longer be denied or passed off as an impossible dream.
The Letter to the Hebrews speaks of these things called hope and faith in two, concise sentences that remind us of what we can do when we hope, when we believe that God gave each of us the opportunity to be here and to make a difference in the world: Let us hold fast our confession of hope without wavering, for God who has promised is faithful (Hebrews 10:23); Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen(Hebrews 11:1). We didn't think we would see this day in our lifetimes, but we have. Our faith has brought us here and it will lead us into the future if we allow ourselves to be led by God, a God that seeks truth and justice for all people, through all people.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Friday, October 31, 2008
Recognition
On a recent trip to Wisconsin I fully realized just how much things change while staying the same.
Where once there was one bridge to link the Door Peninsula to the mainland there were now three, the last completed only the week before I arrived. But its original predecessor stood patiently waiting for the state to roll in and begin repairs that would bring it back to full use.
Where Peterson Builders, Inc., once stood was now virtually open ground with a bay view for the cluster of condos that had sprung up. No more ships were going to be constructed at a company that once employed hundreds of people. Even the Fred J. Peterson Memorial Pool right next door was in the middle of demolition the day I arrived. Mr. Peterson had donated the indoor facility to the city at least forty years ago and many of us had learned to swim there.
Where Draeb's Jewelers, the Bank of Sturgeon Bay, Woerley's Bookstore and Boehn's Pharmacy once resided now found another jewelry store, Harmann's Photo Studio, Book World, Inc. and the Inn at Cedar Crossing, the last a beautiful combination restaurant/bed and breakfast. Online pictures I had seen hadn't done it justice.
Where other shops, restaurants and local businesses had been new ones had taken their place as if they had been there all along. Despite the enormity of turnover the transition still felt seamless, a convincing portrayal of small town life from then to now. Enough was still left to make me feel I had been a part of things, but enough had changed and improved to keep up with the times, such that they were. The town was still recognizable.
But some of the people weren't. And I wasn't to them.
Take. for example, the three people who approached me while I was sitting outside the Kick Cafe, sipping my fresh, strong coffee on a gloriously sunny Saturday afternoon. Their question: Are you a tourist or a native? Of all the questions I anticipated on this trip that was not on the list. And it was a tough one to answer, especially when the people asking it were looking for answers to touristy questions like where the nearest bathroom was located and how to get back to the highway out of town. I was dumfounded. All I had was a garbled version of, "I'm from here, but I don't live here anymore, blah, blah, blah.
Then there was church, a place that hadn't moved in the shuffle and still contained a whole lot of people that I knew and who would know me. Or so I thought. Although I don't look much different than I have for the last thirty-five years, many people haven't experienced that sort of luxury or are simply further along in their lives and have still weathered the time with grace and just a few more wrinkles. Not having daily or consistent contact with people over the course of time and all kinds of confusing moments can arise. It wasn't easy, searching faces for a spark of former knowing, only to realize I was looking at people I never knew in the first place. There were, however, some wonderful reunions with people I had known literally forever. They had aged, but didn't seem to look any different to me. This is the simple grace of heart connections that never fade. As I wandered around the church that had been a second home to me growing up old stories and memories walked up to me to say hello too. These were instantly familiar because we had stayed acquainted even in my absence.
The whole experience reminded me that we all expect to recognize each other, no matter what the circumstances. Of course, anyone who has attended high school reunions in the double digits knows better. After a certain point our lives become too divergent and our waistlines too expansive to pretend that life doesn't change us as we engage its joys and demands.
Jesus' own disciples didn't recognize him after the resurrection. Mark tells us in his gospel that Jesus first appeared to Mary Magdalene and then to two of the remaining eleven disciples. They all went back to the larger group, sharing their wonderful story of Jesus' raising from the dead, but were not believed. "Afterward he appeared to the eleven themselves as they sat at table; and he upbraided them for their unbelief and hardness of heart, because they had not believed those who saw him after he had risen (Mark 16: 14)."
Perhaps seeing is believing, but I also suspect having an open heart, mind and soul clarifies some of life's deepest mysteries. Some people recognize God's spirit more easily, more readily than others, not because God doesn't choose to be revealed to those who struggle more with seeing, but because they don't make the choice to see look with faith instead of sight. Our whole lives can be shaped by these individual choices of perceived reality over faith, placing emphasis on what people tell us instead of what our hearts know from believing in a God whose promises are always kept, no matter what.
It would make sense, then, that if we look to our surroundings or the people who once occupied them with more than our eyes we would see them as we remember them, and hopefully also see who they have become along the way. Equally wonderful is being seen in the same light through their eyes, both physical and spiritual.
Where once there was one bridge to link the Door Peninsula to the mainland there were now three, the last completed only the week before I arrived. But its original predecessor stood patiently waiting for the state to roll in and begin repairs that would bring it back to full use.
Where Peterson Builders, Inc., once stood was now virtually open ground with a bay view for the cluster of condos that had sprung up. No more ships were going to be constructed at a company that once employed hundreds of people. Even the Fred J. Peterson Memorial Pool right next door was in the middle of demolition the day I arrived. Mr. Peterson had donated the indoor facility to the city at least forty years ago and many of us had learned to swim there.
Where Draeb's Jewelers, the Bank of Sturgeon Bay, Woerley's Bookstore and Boehn's Pharmacy once resided now found another jewelry store, Harmann's Photo Studio, Book World, Inc. and the Inn at Cedar Crossing, the last a beautiful combination restaurant/bed and breakfast. Online pictures I had seen hadn't done it justice.
Where other shops, restaurants and local businesses had been new ones had taken their place as if they had been there all along. Despite the enormity of turnover the transition still felt seamless, a convincing portrayal of small town life from then to now. Enough was still left to make me feel I had been a part of things, but enough had changed and improved to keep up with the times, such that they were. The town was still recognizable.
But some of the people weren't. And I wasn't to them.
Take. for example, the three people who approached me while I was sitting outside the Kick Cafe, sipping my fresh, strong coffee on a gloriously sunny Saturday afternoon. Their question: Are you a tourist or a native? Of all the questions I anticipated on this trip that was not on the list. And it was a tough one to answer, especially when the people asking it were looking for answers to touristy questions like where the nearest bathroom was located and how to get back to the highway out of town. I was dumfounded. All I had was a garbled version of, "I'm from here, but I don't live here anymore, blah, blah, blah.
Then there was church, a place that hadn't moved in the shuffle and still contained a whole lot of people that I knew and who would know me. Or so I thought. Although I don't look much different than I have for the last thirty-five years, many people haven't experienced that sort of luxury or are simply further along in their lives and have still weathered the time with grace and just a few more wrinkles. Not having daily or consistent contact with people over the course of time and all kinds of confusing moments can arise. It wasn't easy, searching faces for a spark of former knowing, only to realize I was looking at people I never knew in the first place. There were, however, some wonderful reunions with people I had known literally forever. They had aged, but didn't seem to look any different to me. This is the simple grace of heart connections that never fade. As I wandered around the church that had been a second home to me growing up old stories and memories walked up to me to say hello too. These were instantly familiar because we had stayed acquainted even in my absence.
The whole experience reminded me that we all expect to recognize each other, no matter what the circumstances. Of course, anyone who has attended high school reunions in the double digits knows better. After a certain point our lives become too divergent and our waistlines too expansive to pretend that life doesn't change us as we engage its joys and demands.
Jesus' own disciples didn't recognize him after the resurrection. Mark tells us in his gospel that Jesus first appeared to Mary Magdalene and then to two of the remaining eleven disciples. They all went back to the larger group, sharing their wonderful story of Jesus' raising from the dead, but were not believed. "Afterward he appeared to the eleven themselves as they sat at table; and he upbraided them for their unbelief and hardness of heart, because they had not believed those who saw him after he had risen (Mark 16: 14)."
Perhaps seeing is believing, but I also suspect having an open heart, mind and soul clarifies some of life's deepest mysteries. Some people recognize God's spirit more easily, more readily than others, not because God doesn't choose to be revealed to those who struggle more with seeing, but because they don't make the choice to see look with faith instead of sight. Our whole lives can be shaped by these individual choices of perceived reality over faith, placing emphasis on what people tell us instead of what our hearts know from believing in a God whose promises are always kept, no matter what.
It would make sense, then, that if we look to our surroundings or the people who once occupied them with more than our eyes we would see them as we remember them, and hopefully also see who they have become along the way. Equally wonderful is being seen in the same light through their eyes, both physical and spiritual.
Friday, October 10, 2008
What Brings Us Joy
Joy.
It's a simple word that somehow defies description on a broad scale because it is so specific to each person's life and spirit. Happiness is a little easier to grasp, at least as a concept. Happiness lights up a room, has long term effects and many sources over the course of time.
But Joy, that is something unique, special and more deeply felt, way down in our souls. I believe joy, like wisdom, takes time for us to understand before we can savor just how much it changes both our perspective and our very being. My best understanding is that joy can be described as a tremble of intense delight and hope that never wavers, but keeps resonating.
How do you describe joy? Joy can be a feeling of elation over an accomplishment, our own or that of a loved one. Joy can also be a moment of deep satisfaction or peace. For others, joy is a sense of relief at having survived the unimaginable.
But, perhaps, there is an even more important question. How do you live joy?
Joy isn't one of those things we can fake, especially to ourselves. Putting on a good show for the people around us doesn't equal living a joyful life, although many have given a pretty good effort toward that effect. The Bible often speaks of God not being easily deceived either. When we claim a faith based in God as central to our daily living joy takes on another whole meaning, that of truth and grace as we seek to live according to our purpose. And there is joy built into that promise of God's love and faithfulness. The Bible shares many moments of rejoicing at a deep soul level. Biblical images of this very thing are abundant: David dancing with his people; Mary and Elizabeth sharing the news of their children's impending arrivals; Paul's letters to the emerging churches expressing his joy in their love of Christ.
When we consider joy as inherent in our spiritual practice, it becomes much more tangible, something solid we can hold onto fiercely. At other times we must let joy be without clinging to it for dear life. It is this duality that makes joy almost poignant as it weaves itself through human dreams and lives. The prophet Isaiah said, "For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth in singing. and all the tees of the fields shall clap their hands. Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress; instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle; and it shall be to the Lord for a memorial, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off (Isaiah 55: 12-13)."
What brings us joy may very well be the belief that joy itself is already in us, that exercising its power makes it alive in the world around us as an act of faith.
It's a simple word that somehow defies description on a broad scale because it is so specific to each person's life and spirit. Happiness is a little easier to grasp, at least as a concept. Happiness lights up a room, has long term effects and many sources over the course of time.
But Joy, that is something unique, special and more deeply felt, way down in our souls. I believe joy, like wisdom, takes time for us to understand before we can savor just how much it changes both our perspective and our very being. My best understanding is that joy can be described as a tremble of intense delight and hope that never wavers, but keeps resonating.
How do you describe joy? Joy can be a feeling of elation over an accomplishment, our own or that of a loved one. Joy can also be a moment of deep satisfaction or peace. For others, joy is a sense of relief at having survived the unimaginable.
But, perhaps, there is an even more important question. How do you live joy?
Joy isn't one of those things we can fake, especially to ourselves. Putting on a good show for the people around us doesn't equal living a joyful life, although many have given a pretty good effort toward that effect. The Bible often speaks of God not being easily deceived either. When we claim a faith based in God as central to our daily living joy takes on another whole meaning, that of truth and grace as we seek to live according to our purpose. And there is joy built into that promise of God's love and faithfulness. The Bible shares many moments of rejoicing at a deep soul level. Biblical images of this very thing are abundant: David dancing with his people; Mary and Elizabeth sharing the news of their children's impending arrivals; Paul's letters to the emerging churches expressing his joy in their love of Christ.
When we consider joy as inherent in our spiritual practice, it becomes much more tangible, something solid we can hold onto fiercely. At other times we must let joy be without clinging to it for dear life. It is this duality that makes joy almost poignant as it weaves itself through human dreams and lives. The prophet Isaiah said, "For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth in singing. and all the tees of the fields shall clap their hands. Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress; instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle; and it shall be to the Lord for a memorial, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off (Isaiah 55: 12-13)."
What brings us joy may very well be the belief that joy itself is already in us, that exercising its power makes it alive in the world around us as an act of faith.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Kindness
Have you ever watched Rogers and Hammerstein's Cinderella?
The Broadway musical became a television special in the 1960's and a cherished memory from my childhood ever since. The story itself is timeless: boy meets girl; boy loses girl; boy finds girl once again to live happily ever after. The addition of a fairy godmother, magic pumpkins and glass slippers that had to be impossible to walk in brought drama and suspense to a tale whose ending was known to us all along. We didn't watch Cinderella to discover the ending, but to become a part of the story itself. For just when we think the Prince will not have a chance to try the glass slipper on his true love's foot, Cinderella's fairy godmother urges her to offer the Prince a cool dipper of water to refresh himself on his arduous travels. Against the protests of her stepmother and stepsisters, Cinderella offers the Prince a drink. He recognizes her, and they know they belong together.
Moral of the story: kindness extended can welcome miracles into our lives in the most unexpected of ways.
Have you ever heard the story of the traveler who was attacked and the man who helped him?
Jesus told the parable of the Good Samaritan. "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jerico, and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was; and when he saw him he had compassion, and went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine; then, he set him on his own beast and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, 'Take care of him; and whatever more you spend I will repay you when I come back.' Which of these do you think proved neighbor to the man who fell among thieves? He said, 'The one who showed mercy on him.' And Jesus said to him, 'Go and do the same (Luke 10: 29-37)."
Moral of the story: kindness extended becomes an example of mercy for others to follow and through which they may experience newness of life.
Some would say that fairy tales and scripture readings do not mix well as theological underpinnings on which to base our lives. I believe that God welcomes each of us to search out divine activity and reason wherever we may find it. In wise observations we also understand ourselves to be instruments of God's compassionate, loving action in the world. Kindness is perhaps one of the most important acts of faith we can perform in service to our fellow human beings.
Kindness is simple: friendly, gentle, benevolent, generous behavior toward another person. Think about that for a moment. Consider some of the opportunities through the day that you have to be friendly, gentle, benevolent or generous with another person in how you think about them, speak with them and act toward them. I'm not only asking you to ponder the nice people who cross your path, but also those with whom you don't feel completely comfortable and those whose response to you may not be anticipated as positive.
How difficult is it for you to offer a friendly, thoughtful attitude to a co-worker who rubs you the wrong way?
Is it possible for you to be gentle and considerate with a family member or an acquaintance who doesn't listen very well?
Can you generously share your pocket change with a street beggar?
Are you able to set aside your own agenda to benevolently direct or lead a visitor to your city to their destination?
Kindness is always an act of faith, an assurance of a hoped for outcome that will benefit someone else and increase our own belief in God's friendliness, generosity, benevolence and gentleness for us. Kindness extended stretches our faith, makes it bigger, more inclusive, whatever the response we get from the person to whom we have reached out. Being kind doesn't guarantee a fairy tale ending to the story, but simply includes us in God's story.
Reconsider our storybook heroine.
Cinderella should have been, by all rights, a miserable young woman. Her parents were dead and she was stranded in this household serving her rather selfish, rude stepfamily. At best she was taken for granted in all her efforts at cleaning and caring for these ungrateful people. At worst she faced a life of uncertainty and abuse at the hands of those who thought nothing of her. But somewhere in her heart she still found it possible to remain friendly, gentle, generous and benevolent as a way of life. That way led her to her future in one simple gesture of kindness.
Reconsider the parable of the Good Samaritan.
Jesus distinguished this man's behavior between that of the Jewish priest and the Levite because there was no love lost between Samaritans and Jews in Jesus' time. But still the Samaritan extended friendliness, gentleness, generosity and benevolence to a man he didn't know who would potentially never repay him. The Good Samaritan crossed cultural, religious, financial and personal security boundaries to help a stranger in a time of deeply-felt need.
Moral of the story: kindness moves us outside our usual ways of thinking and behaving to become one with God's story of love.
The Broadway musical became a television special in the 1960's and a cherished memory from my childhood ever since. The story itself is timeless: boy meets girl; boy loses girl; boy finds girl once again to live happily ever after. The addition of a fairy godmother, magic pumpkins and glass slippers that had to be impossible to walk in brought drama and suspense to a tale whose ending was known to us all along. We didn't watch Cinderella to discover the ending, but to become a part of the story itself. For just when we think the Prince will not have a chance to try the glass slipper on his true love's foot, Cinderella's fairy godmother urges her to offer the Prince a cool dipper of water to refresh himself on his arduous travels. Against the protests of her stepmother and stepsisters, Cinderella offers the Prince a drink. He recognizes her, and they know they belong together.
Moral of the story: kindness extended can welcome miracles into our lives in the most unexpected of ways.
Have you ever heard the story of the traveler who was attacked and the man who helped him?
Jesus told the parable of the Good Samaritan. "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jerico, and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was; and when he saw him he had compassion, and went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine; then, he set him on his own beast and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, 'Take care of him; and whatever more you spend I will repay you when I come back.' Which of these do you think proved neighbor to the man who fell among thieves? He said, 'The one who showed mercy on him.' And Jesus said to him, 'Go and do the same (Luke 10: 29-37)."
Moral of the story: kindness extended becomes an example of mercy for others to follow and through which they may experience newness of life.
Some would say that fairy tales and scripture readings do not mix well as theological underpinnings on which to base our lives. I believe that God welcomes each of us to search out divine activity and reason wherever we may find it. In wise observations we also understand ourselves to be instruments of God's compassionate, loving action in the world. Kindness is perhaps one of the most important acts of faith we can perform in service to our fellow human beings.
Kindness is simple: friendly, gentle, benevolent, generous behavior toward another person. Think about that for a moment. Consider some of the opportunities through the day that you have to be friendly, gentle, benevolent or generous with another person in how you think about them, speak with them and act toward them. I'm not only asking you to ponder the nice people who cross your path, but also those with whom you don't feel completely comfortable and those whose response to you may not be anticipated as positive.
How difficult is it for you to offer a friendly, thoughtful attitude to a co-worker who rubs you the wrong way?
Is it possible for you to be gentle and considerate with a family member or an acquaintance who doesn't listen very well?
Can you generously share your pocket change with a street beggar?
Are you able to set aside your own agenda to benevolently direct or lead a visitor to your city to their destination?
Kindness is always an act of faith, an assurance of a hoped for outcome that will benefit someone else and increase our own belief in God's friendliness, generosity, benevolence and gentleness for us. Kindness extended stretches our faith, makes it bigger, more inclusive, whatever the response we get from the person to whom we have reached out. Being kind doesn't guarantee a fairy tale ending to the story, but simply includes us in God's story.
Reconsider our storybook heroine.
Cinderella should have been, by all rights, a miserable young woman. Her parents were dead and she was stranded in this household serving her rather selfish, rude stepfamily. At best she was taken for granted in all her efforts at cleaning and caring for these ungrateful people. At worst she faced a life of uncertainty and abuse at the hands of those who thought nothing of her. But somewhere in her heart she still found it possible to remain friendly, gentle, generous and benevolent as a way of life. That way led her to her future in one simple gesture of kindness.
Reconsider the parable of the Good Samaritan.
Jesus distinguished this man's behavior between that of the Jewish priest and the Levite because there was no love lost between Samaritans and Jews in Jesus' time. But still the Samaritan extended friendliness, gentleness, generosity and benevolence to a man he didn't know who would potentially never repay him. The Good Samaritan crossed cultural, religious, financial and personal security boundaries to help a stranger in a time of deeply-felt need.
Moral of the story: kindness moves us outside our usual ways of thinking and behaving to become one with God's story of love.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Practical Beauty
Decorating has always been a part of my life. My mother's subscription to Better Homes and Gardens rarely made it to her hands before mine. Especially during the summer months, when school didn't impede my camping out on our front steps until the mail carrier arrived, I relished each issue and all the magical ways it offered to imagine and manifest lovely, comfortable spaces. Even then, decorating for me was synonymous with inspired living. Creating a beautiful environment equaled shaping a room or a house into my own world, even if that world existed only in my own mind.
Today is no different, except that the subscription to BH and G is now in my name.
Memories of pouring over pages and pages of rooms filled with pretty fabrics, finely-crafted furniture and fresh flowers positioned just so on a fireplace mantle motivated me to rearrange my bedroom this past weekend. Ever since I moved in last summer I had pondered the next steps of how I would translate the room into its most wonderful state of being. Standing back and surveying part of my kingdom satisfies me immensely. Watching it unfold as I drag the furniture around the room, reposition prints and mirrors to align with the new arrangement and shift the accessories to new locations, dusting and vacuuming as I go, is about bringing out the best that each piece has to offer in relationship to all the others with which it is associated. Sometimes that means moving an object to another room or giving it away so someone else can enjoy it. While I am still about creating my own world it no longer exists only in my head, and I am very clear that I am about achieving harmony, balance and peace with whatever resources I have at my disposal.
I tend not to look at objects as only being beautiful unto themselves, but also in how they can be utilized in everyday living. My favorite things are those that create beauty in their practicality. Baskets that hang on the wall in my living room transform themselves into serving trays and Christmas ornament displays. Teapots on bookshelves can be plucked from their perches and placed on the table ready for brewing. Pillows resting on chairs and sofas provide visual texture and interest, but also feel really good against a tired back or under a weary, nap-ready head.
So it isn't about the dollar value of what I possess, but about the extravagant application of my creativity that means much more to me. I feel wealthy after I complete such an adventure, standing back to again survey my kingdom, knowing that inspiration is truly a God-given gift that can be applied anywhere we see fit to make the world a better place.
My next door neighbor knows inspiration is a gift in her work as an occupational therapist. Her job is to help people reclaim their bodies after such devastating occurrences as strokes and accidents. Even being able to help someone relearn how to move a finger makes her day. To achieve these goals she employs all the tools available to her: her education, training, dedication and most importantly, her faith. She talks about how her soul resonates with the souls of the people with whom she works. That resonance, God's spirit communicating between them, is what guides her to help her patients draw on their own strength to heal. Although not in her job description, she styled a patient's hair last week, giving the woman a whole new outlook on herself and the world. Three extra minutes of my neighbor's time made her patient feel beautiful again. From that moment of delight came a movement forward in her therapy on which she continues to build each day.
My guess is that home decor and occupational therapy are not linked in your mind as equal avenues to creating a better world. Perhaps you had an inkling that I had waded into the shallow end of the theological pool talking about decorating as a spiritual experience. Maybe you are not aware that whenever God's spirit is made tangible there is beauty to behold if you are willing to see it.
Jesus was certainly not above enjoying the beauty surrounding him or using beauty as a tool to expand people's understanding of where and how God resided in their world. He encouraged those willing to hear to let go of their anxiety and to, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow'; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these (Matthew 28-29)." From that observation I can only surmise that Jesus used beauty as a practical teaching tool and also saw beauty in people's souls. It is poetic to look beyond what others see and feel the depth of truth that lies within living beings, whether they be flowers, animals or women, children and men.
Have you ever wondered who you would have chosen as your disciples if you were in Jesus' place? It's endlessly fascinating to me how clearly Jesus could see through to the core of who he selected as his closest allies. He didn't choose these people based on standard hiring guidelines but on how their characters and gifts resonated with the work that needed to be done in that time and place. He chose them for the truth, the beauty of who they were and how they would apply themselves to the simple and complex practicalities of what was and what was to come. Whatever mistakes they made along the way, their one decision to follow Jesus set them on a path that would bring forth everything they had to offer.
We are no different, called as we are to give the best, the most beautiful parts of ourselves to whatever purpose we are here to serve. Beauty is often pushed aside in favor of the harsh realities of living that overwhelm us, even on our best days. But God did not separate out the beautiful from the practical in the process of creation, and God never told us to separate out the beautiful from the practical in our own process of creation. If either were true the sky would not provide such endless supplies of clouds and stars, and there would surely be no graceful variety in architecture or food. Homes could all look the same and food could be food. We would be housed and fed just the same.
Making the world a better place, a more beautiful place, is about perspective and action. There is great beauty in the truth of living because everything we create comes from God from whom all blessings flow. How that is made real, welcomed into the vast creation in which we live, is as individual as we are. How all that energy and abundance works together is how God continues to work among us engendering harmony, balance and peace as both simple and ample grace. We dance together as God's people, each giving to and receiving from one another all the gifts God has given us. Beautiful and practical, just like God.
Today is no different, except that the subscription to BH and G is now in my name.
Memories of pouring over pages and pages of rooms filled with pretty fabrics, finely-crafted furniture and fresh flowers positioned just so on a fireplace mantle motivated me to rearrange my bedroom this past weekend. Ever since I moved in last summer I had pondered the next steps of how I would translate the room into its most wonderful state of being. Standing back and surveying part of my kingdom satisfies me immensely. Watching it unfold as I drag the furniture around the room, reposition prints and mirrors to align with the new arrangement and shift the accessories to new locations, dusting and vacuuming as I go, is about bringing out the best that each piece has to offer in relationship to all the others with which it is associated. Sometimes that means moving an object to another room or giving it away so someone else can enjoy it. While I am still about creating my own world it no longer exists only in my head, and I am very clear that I am about achieving harmony, balance and peace with whatever resources I have at my disposal.
I tend not to look at objects as only being beautiful unto themselves, but also in how they can be utilized in everyday living. My favorite things are those that create beauty in their practicality. Baskets that hang on the wall in my living room transform themselves into serving trays and Christmas ornament displays. Teapots on bookshelves can be plucked from their perches and placed on the table ready for brewing. Pillows resting on chairs and sofas provide visual texture and interest, but also feel really good against a tired back or under a weary, nap-ready head.
So it isn't about the dollar value of what I possess, but about the extravagant application of my creativity that means much more to me. I feel wealthy after I complete such an adventure, standing back to again survey my kingdom, knowing that inspiration is truly a God-given gift that can be applied anywhere we see fit to make the world a better place.
My next door neighbor knows inspiration is a gift in her work as an occupational therapist. Her job is to help people reclaim their bodies after such devastating occurrences as strokes and accidents. Even being able to help someone relearn how to move a finger makes her day. To achieve these goals she employs all the tools available to her: her education, training, dedication and most importantly, her faith. She talks about how her soul resonates with the souls of the people with whom she works. That resonance, God's spirit communicating between them, is what guides her to help her patients draw on their own strength to heal. Although not in her job description, she styled a patient's hair last week, giving the woman a whole new outlook on herself and the world. Three extra minutes of my neighbor's time made her patient feel beautiful again. From that moment of delight came a movement forward in her therapy on which she continues to build each day.
My guess is that home decor and occupational therapy are not linked in your mind as equal avenues to creating a better world. Perhaps you had an inkling that I had waded into the shallow end of the theological pool talking about decorating as a spiritual experience. Maybe you are not aware that whenever God's spirit is made tangible there is beauty to behold if you are willing to see it.
Jesus was certainly not above enjoying the beauty surrounding him or using beauty as a tool to expand people's understanding of where and how God resided in their world. He encouraged those willing to hear to let go of their anxiety and to, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow'; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these (Matthew 28-29)." From that observation I can only surmise that Jesus used beauty as a practical teaching tool and also saw beauty in people's souls. It is poetic to look beyond what others see and feel the depth of truth that lies within living beings, whether they be flowers, animals or women, children and men.
Have you ever wondered who you would have chosen as your disciples if you were in Jesus' place? It's endlessly fascinating to me how clearly Jesus could see through to the core of who he selected as his closest allies. He didn't choose these people based on standard hiring guidelines but on how their characters and gifts resonated with the work that needed to be done in that time and place. He chose them for the truth, the beauty of who they were and how they would apply themselves to the simple and complex practicalities of what was and what was to come. Whatever mistakes they made along the way, their one decision to follow Jesus set them on a path that would bring forth everything they had to offer.
We are no different, called as we are to give the best, the most beautiful parts of ourselves to whatever purpose we are here to serve. Beauty is often pushed aside in favor of the harsh realities of living that overwhelm us, even on our best days. But God did not separate out the beautiful from the practical in the process of creation, and God never told us to separate out the beautiful from the practical in our own process of creation. If either were true the sky would not provide such endless supplies of clouds and stars, and there would surely be no graceful variety in architecture or food. Homes could all look the same and food could be food. We would be housed and fed just the same.
Making the world a better place, a more beautiful place, is about perspective and action. There is great beauty in the truth of living because everything we create comes from God from whom all blessings flow. How that is made real, welcomed into the vast creation in which we live, is as individual as we are. How all that energy and abundance works together is how God continues to work among us engendering harmony, balance and peace as both simple and ample grace. We dance together as God's people, each giving to and receiving from one another all the gifts God has given us. Beautiful and practical, just like God.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Wanting To Grow
Strolling up to the deli at my local grocery I didn't expect a conversation about the recession with the kind man plopping my tofu burger into its plastic take-out container. But that is what I got, an informed opinion about how the store was no longer carrying some items that hadn't been great sellers. Some of the clientele weren't pleased about these cost-cutting measures. According to my guy the store was maintaining, and that was about it. I mentioned that maintaining didn't seem like such a bad thing to me, but he only shot me a confused look, as if I didn't understand how dire the circumstances about which he spoke really were.
Checking my emails an hour or so later I bumped up against the bold statement that the Southern states are suffering the most impact from rising gas prices. Honestly, I didn't look further to discover the reason why. Reading more about these sorts of things doesn't make much sense when I can't control other people's car choices or driving habits. But I have heard rumblings from many folks that echo the deli counter attendant's belief that people feel they can't get ahead anymore, that they are treading water, maintaining, and don't see much hope of that changing any time soon. For the first time in our history we in the United States are looking at the real possibility that the next generation may not be economically better off than its predecessor.
It may be a good time to remind ourselves that money isn't everything, particularly since we live a very privileged life compared to most of the rest of the world. Economic increase, personally and nationally, has become our heritage, but also our obsession. Focusing so heavily on our needs for more does not bode well, no matter what spin we want to put on it.
But even in the midst of our recession-based angst there are a few things that remain stable and clear. One of those things is potty training.
I am not presently teaching, nor have I ever taught someone else how to manage toilet use, but I did speak with a woman at my local bookstore who was about to begin the process with her own child. She was looking for resources because he had shown signs of being ready to go for it. I stood in amazement before this serene, obviously capable woman, wondering aloud how one knew these mysterious things, let alone how to transfer such knowledge on to another human being. She said, simply, that children want to grow.
That's all there is too it, really. It isn't about profit margins, dividends, economic swings and debt management. Kids have it all figured out, something we adults have lost somewhere in the shuffle, that it's all about wanting to grow.
Scripture tells us that Jesus welcomed children to sit with him and learn, despite the best efforts of the adults around him to keep the children at bay, lest the master's patience be tested or his attention be drawn away from really important matters affecting the rest of the world. Luke's gospel recounts the story. "Now they were bringing even infants to see him that he might teach them: and when the disciples saw it they rebuked them. But Jesus called them to him, saying, 'Let the children come to me and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it (Luke 18:15-17)." Children aren't always the best behaved creatures on the planet, but most often they do their best to pay attention, listen and follow what the grown ups are saying. Children are also usually excited about life, eager to know more, build on what they already have stored up in their brains and create glorious adventures to carry them forward. How could Jesus not want to be around that kind of energy and joy? Enthusiasm is contagious, brightening each life it touches and envelopes.
Scripture also tells us of Jesus' best moments of clarity and purpose regarding the stories he told the adults when their turn came to hear what Jesus had to say. Parables, confrontations over points of religious law, sermons expounding on familiar teachings, healings performed among crowds of people and individual encounters with fellow travelers, called those who paid attention, listened, to grow beyond what they already knew and into something more. But unlike children, who seem to have a natural inclination to reach out and stretch themselves into new shapes and sizes, not all the adults who were privy to Jesus' offerings wanted to grow.
The rich young ruler is a good example. In the verses just after Jesus welcomed the children, Luke's gospel recounts this interchange between Jesus and a would-be follower. " And a ruler asked him, 'Good Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?' And Jesus said to him, 'Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: Do not commit adultery. Do not kill. Do not steal. Do not bear false witness. Honor your father and mother. ' And he said, 'All these I have observed from my youth.' And when Jesus heard it, he said to him, 'One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.' But when he heard this he became sad, for he was very rich. Jesus looking at him said, 'How hard it is for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God (Luke 18:24)!" This fellow clearly was eager to please, but only to a certain point. His beliefs had limits that were quite obvious, even to him as he waked away, very sad at not being able to have the life he wanted. He was unwilling to let go of his need to be wealthy, sacrificing his entire life to hold onto his possessions. His faith apparently receded into the background as he walked away from the man he hoped to follow.
Perhaps the recession, real or imaginary, isn't the most horrible thing that could happen to us. Our financial well-being continues to attract our attention, as well it should. We live in a world in which we need to manage our material wealth with care and consideration. But what we make, have and store up for future use may not need to be our central concern. Reattaching ourselves to that remembrance of wanting more, visioning our future and stretching to bring ourselves to those hopes with pure joy, that is the stuff of which Jesus spoke This is faith, this wanting to grow, and faith is recession-proof.
Checking my emails an hour or so later I bumped up against the bold statement that the Southern states are suffering the most impact from rising gas prices. Honestly, I didn't look further to discover the reason why. Reading more about these sorts of things doesn't make much sense when I can't control other people's car choices or driving habits. But I have heard rumblings from many folks that echo the deli counter attendant's belief that people feel they can't get ahead anymore, that they are treading water, maintaining, and don't see much hope of that changing any time soon. For the first time in our history we in the United States are looking at the real possibility that the next generation may not be economically better off than its predecessor.
It may be a good time to remind ourselves that money isn't everything, particularly since we live a very privileged life compared to most of the rest of the world. Economic increase, personally and nationally, has become our heritage, but also our obsession. Focusing so heavily on our needs for more does not bode well, no matter what spin we want to put on it.
But even in the midst of our recession-based angst there are a few things that remain stable and clear. One of those things is potty training.
I am not presently teaching, nor have I ever taught someone else how to manage toilet use, but I did speak with a woman at my local bookstore who was about to begin the process with her own child. She was looking for resources because he had shown signs of being ready to go for it. I stood in amazement before this serene, obviously capable woman, wondering aloud how one knew these mysterious things, let alone how to transfer such knowledge on to another human being. She said, simply, that children want to grow.
That's all there is too it, really. It isn't about profit margins, dividends, economic swings and debt management. Kids have it all figured out, something we adults have lost somewhere in the shuffle, that it's all about wanting to grow.
Scripture tells us that Jesus welcomed children to sit with him and learn, despite the best efforts of the adults around him to keep the children at bay, lest the master's patience be tested or his attention be drawn away from really important matters affecting the rest of the world. Luke's gospel recounts the story. "Now they were bringing even infants to see him that he might teach them: and when the disciples saw it they rebuked them. But Jesus called them to him, saying, 'Let the children come to me and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it (Luke 18:15-17)." Children aren't always the best behaved creatures on the planet, but most often they do their best to pay attention, listen and follow what the grown ups are saying. Children are also usually excited about life, eager to know more, build on what they already have stored up in their brains and create glorious adventures to carry them forward. How could Jesus not want to be around that kind of energy and joy? Enthusiasm is contagious, brightening each life it touches and envelopes.
Scripture also tells us of Jesus' best moments of clarity and purpose regarding the stories he told the adults when their turn came to hear what Jesus had to say. Parables, confrontations over points of religious law, sermons expounding on familiar teachings, healings performed among crowds of people and individual encounters with fellow travelers, called those who paid attention, listened, to grow beyond what they already knew and into something more. But unlike children, who seem to have a natural inclination to reach out and stretch themselves into new shapes and sizes, not all the adults who were privy to Jesus' offerings wanted to grow.
The rich young ruler is a good example. In the verses just after Jesus welcomed the children, Luke's gospel recounts this interchange between Jesus and a would-be follower. " And a ruler asked him, 'Good Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?' And Jesus said to him, 'Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: Do not commit adultery. Do not kill. Do not steal. Do not bear false witness. Honor your father and mother. ' And he said, 'All these I have observed from my youth.' And when Jesus heard it, he said to him, 'One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.' But when he heard this he became sad, for he was very rich. Jesus looking at him said, 'How hard it is for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God (Luke 18:24)!" This fellow clearly was eager to please, but only to a certain point. His beliefs had limits that were quite obvious, even to him as he waked away, very sad at not being able to have the life he wanted. He was unwilling to let go of his need to be wealthy, sacrificing his entire life to hold onto his possessions. His faith apparently receded into the background as he walked away from the man he hoped to follow.
Perhaps the recession, real or imaginary, isn't the most horrible thing that could happen to us. Our financial well-being continues to attract our attention, as well it should. We live in a world in which we need to manage our material wealth with care and consideration. But what we make, have and store up for future use may not need to be our central concern. Reattaching ourselves to that remembrance of wanting more, visioning our future and stretching to bring ourselves to those hopes with pure joy, that is the stuff of which Jesus spoke This is faith, this wanting to grow, and faith is recession-proof.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Hope Quest
Remember the old days?
So many answers for one simple question. In this case, I am reflecting on how far we have come in securing directions from here to there, wherever here and there may be. Used to be that maps were needed, sometimes several maps, all spread out on the kitchen table or the living room floor. Travelers-in-waiting, we would find our location, pinpoint our destination and start connecting the roads in between. Eventually the American Automobile Association (AAA) enhanced that process with small, flip chart specimens known as TripTiks, eliminating the constant "open the whole map, refold the whole map, uncrumple the whole map" process that frustrated the most gifted map reader. Make no mistake: map reading is a gift. For those of us not blessed with the ability to glance at a paper full of multicolored, squiggly lines and be able to determine our immediate destiny, map reading is torture in a foreign language. Maps mock us.
Enter MapQuest.
Whoever thought of MapQuest deserves a metal, a large page in the great annuls of history and a big ice cream cone for getting this one crucial thing right.
All MapQuest requires of us is to type in where we are, where we want to go and hit enter.
Then, a miracle happens.
All the directions, from backing out of your driveway to pulling into the driveway at the end of your journey is right there in front of you. Granted, all of this needs to be printed out, kept in order and followed to the letter to arrive at one's destination. And, admittedly, sometimes there are glitches and errors. But overall, what a great system!
Hope is a lot like trying to figure out our journey with a map, whether it be a paper one or the computerized version. We need to understand where here is, where there is and what roads we will need to use in between to get from here to there. For hope is not an ethereal concept, a false belief couched in sentimentality and shattered dreams. Hope is tangible, realistic and necessary for we human beings to fully live our lives and our faith.
Where does hope begin? Hope is the belief or understanding that something we can's see, touch, smell, taste or hear already exists or can be created. Hope begins, makes its debut, when we acknowledge something as possible that we don't yet have in our grasp. Finding hope means looking in the right places, searching with an open heart and mind for that which can be made real by our thoughts, words, actions, even our faith.
Jesus spoke openly, boldly and frequently about hope. Each time he asked a damaged human being what they wanted, he invited them to step into the grand arena of hope. Whenever Jesus preached and asked questions about where the kingdom of heaven could be found, he beckoned his listeners to follow him to a place called hope. While Jesus ate with reviled tax collectors, told parables about the hated Samaritans and welcomed the least obvious souls as his cherished followers, he extended a hand to everybody around him to join him in the promised land of hope. Jesus embodied hope, the belief, the understanding that something unseen, untouchable, unfathomable already exited and could be created in the present moment in the lives of the people around him. These became the people of whom the author of Hebrews spoke: "Let us hold fast our confession of hope without wavering, for God who has promised is faithful (Hebrews 10:23.)." Ordinary people choosing to believe the extraordinary was not only possible, but immediately available.
That immediacy of Jesus' presence in that ancient world is enviable. Many of us ultimately use historical distance as a buffer against living our own faith. But centuries of wars, human strife, births, marriages, deaths and taxes don't provide us with any excuses not to hope. In fact, they only serve as a collectively solid reason to keep hoping, keep embracing the truth that hope prevails despite the human condition.
While pondering the idea of hope today I did what many of us do each day: I browsed through the newspaper and perused the breaking headlines on the internet. Most of what I read could not be said to inspire hope. I didn't see much overtly good news. Floods, cyclones, fires and tornados led the natural disaster category. A number of beloved public figures have passed on in the last several weeks leaving grieving families, friends and fans behind. The economy is dismal at best. Gasoline prices are soaring. Many people are losing their homes to foreclosure.
So in all these circumstances, where does hope begin?
Hope begins as the belief, the understanding that something unseen, untouchable, unfathomable already exits and can be created in the present moment in our lives and the lives of the people around us. Hope begins with ordinary people choosing to believe the extraordinary is not only possible, but immediately available. The author of Hebrews also wrote that, "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1)." When we hope we are bridged to faith as the assurance that what we believe is real and getting ready to be welcomed into our lives.
Hope begins as the belief that something unseen already exists and can be created in the present. There are floods, cyclones, fires and tornados in abundance. Hope continues as faithful action when ordinary people willing to help those who have suffered through these disasters come forward to relieve that suffering in extraordinary ways. People die everyday, known and unknown to the public community. Hope continues as these lives move from our daily interaction to become our cherished memories. The economy is dismal, gasoline prices soar and many people are losing their homes to foreclosure. Hope lives on in the creativity of those seeking to empower each other with realistic ways to live well in a changing world.
I continue to believe that hope is a lot like trying to figure out our journey with a map, whether it be a paper one or the computerized version. We need to understand where here is, where there is and what roads we will need to use in between to get from here to there. Where we are may not look very hopeful, but it is where we are. Where we are headed is our choice. For hope is not an ethereal concept, a false belief couched in sentimentality and shattered dreams. Hope is tangible, realistic and necessary for we human beings to fully live our lives and our faith. If we are headed for hope as the promised land to which Jesus invited, beckoned and led his followers, that place of making real that which we are not quite able to touch, we will understand hope from its inception and recognize each sign along the way. We will then be living the journey of hope itself.
So many answers for one simple question. In this case, I am reflecting on how far we have come in securing directions from here to there, wherever here and there may be. Used to be that maps were needed, sometimes several maps, all spread out on the kitchen table or the living room floor. Travelers-in-waiting, we would find our location, pinpoint our destination and start connecting the roads in between. Eventually the American Automobile Association (AAA) enhanced that process with small, flip chart specimens known as TripTiks, eliminating the constant "open the whole map, refold the whole map, uncrumple the whole map" process that frustrated the most gifted map reader. Make no mistake: map reading is a gift. For those of us not blessed with the ability to glance at a paper full of multicolored, squiggly lines and be able to determine our immediate destiny, map reading is torture in a foreign language. Maps mock us.
Enter MapQuest.
Whoever thought of MapQuest deserves a metal, a large page in the great annuls of history and a big ice cream cone for getting this one crucial thing right.
All MapQuest requires of us is to type in where we are, where we want to go and hit enter.
Then, a miracle happens.
All the directions, from backing out of your driveway to pulling into the driveway at the end of your journey is right there in front of you. Granted, all of this needs to be printed out, kept in order and followed to the letter to arrive at one's destination. And, admittedly, sometimes there are glitches and errors. But overall, what a great system!
Hope is a lot like trying to figure out our journey with a map, whether it be a paper one or the computerized version. We need to understand where here is, where there is and what roads we will need to use in between to get from here to there. For hope is not an ethereal concept, a false belief couched in sentimentality and shattered dreams. Hope is tangible, realistic and necessary for we human beings to fully live our lives and our faith.
Where does hope begin? Hope is the belief or understanding that something we can's see, touch, smell, taste or hear already exists or can be created. Hope begins, makes its debut, when we acknowledge something as possible that we don't yet have in our grasp. Finding hope means looking in the right places, searching with an open heart and mind for that which can be made real by our thoughts, words, actions, even our faith.
Jesus spoke openly, boldly and frequently about hope. Each time he asked a damaged human being what they wanted, he invited them to step into the grand arena of hope. Whenever Jesus preached and asked questions about where the kingdom of heaven could be found, he beckoned his listeners to follow him to a place called hope. While Jesus ate with reviled tax collectors, told parables about the hated Samaritans and welcomed the least obvious souls as his cherished followers, he extended a hand to everybody around him to join him in the promised land of hope. Jesus embodied hope, the belief, the understanding that something unseen, untouchable, unfathomable already exited and could be created in the present moment in the lives of the people around him. These became the people of whom the author of Hebrews spoke: "Let us hold fast our confession of hope without wavering, for God who has promised is faithful (Hebrews 10:23.)." Ordinary people choosing to believe the extraordinary was not only possible, but immediately available.
That immediacy of Jesus' presence in that ancient world is enviable. Many of us ultimately use historical distance as a buffer against living our own faith. But centuries of wars, human strife, births, marriages, deaths and taxes don't provide us with any excuses not to hope. In fact, they only serve as a collectively solid reason to keep hoping, keep embracing the truth that hope prevails despite the human condition.
While pondering the idea of hope today I did what many of us do each day: I browsed through the newspaper and perused the breaking headlines on the internet. Most of what I read could not be said to inspire hope. I didn't see much overtly good news. Floods, cyclones, fires and tornados led the natural disaster category. A number of beloved public figures have passed on in the last several weeks leaving grieving families, friends and fans behind. The economy is dismal at best. Gasoline prices are soaring. Many people are losing their homes to foreclosure.
So in all these circumstances, where does hope begin?
Hope begins as the belief, the understanding that something unseen, untouchable, unfathomable already exits and can be created in the present moment in our lives and the lives of the people around us. Hope begins with ordinary people choosing to believe the extraordinary is not only possible, but immediately available. The author of Hebrews also wrote that, "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1)." When we hope we are bridged to faith as the assurance that what we believe is real and getting ready to be welcomed into our lives.
Hope begins as the belief that something unseen already exists and can be created in the present. There are floods, cyclones, fires and tornados in abundance. Hope continues as faithful action when ordinary people willing to help those who have suffered through these disasters come forward to relieve that suffering in extraordinary ways. People die everyday, known and unknown to the public community. Hope continues as these lives move from our daily interaction to become our cherished memories. The economy is dismal, gasoline prices soar and many people are losing their homes to foreclosure. Hope lives on in the creativity of those seeking to empower each other with realistic ways to live well in a changing world.
I continue to believe that hope is a lot like trying to figure out our journey with a map, whether it be a paper one or the computerized version. We need to understand where here is, where there is and what roads we will need to use in between to get from here to there. Where we are may not look very hopeful, but it is where we are. Where we are headed is our choice. For hope is not an ethereal concept, a false belief couched in sentimentality and shattered dreams. Hope is tangible, realistic and necessary for we human beings to fully live our lives and our faith. If we are headed for hope as the promised land to which Jesus invited, beckoned and led his followers, that place of making real that which we are not quite able to touch, we will understand hope from its inception and recognize each sign along the way. We will then be living the journey of hope itself.
Friday, June 6, 2008
God's Paper Cups
My mom sold our family home last year, the one in which I grew up, so when I make my visit this fall I will only be doing a drive-by visitation of the old homestead. Fortunately, the people who bought the house rehabbed it and had it posted on the web with a local realtor for a few months. That satisfied my curiosity about how the place looked, and it was pleasing to note how they had cared for it. Hopefully, whoever now lives there will love it. My hope, too, is that they will keep the lovely birch tree that has stood proudly in the front yard for over thirty-five years.
The property on which the house stands, while small, is standard for the neighborhood. What made it special for our family was the bounty my parents created, bringing in pear, apple and plum trees, as well as asparagus, raspberries, rhubarb and Concord grapes, all of which we enjoyed, each in their seasons of plenty. A summer garden grew green beans, onions, tomatoes, carrots and cucumbers. What we didn't eat fresh or share with friends was canned by my mother, something a lot of moms did then, even though the process has fallen out of fashion with my generation. I appreciated the plums and raspberries most.. I have also retrofitted my honor for the richness of the past with respect for what asparagus and rhubarb cost at my local market.
While I remember the whole of the backyard bounty with fondness, the trees did more than feed our bodies. They also fed our souls. What is better on a warm Wisconsin summer afternoon than to welcome a tree's imagination into your own, establishing a whole world within the boundaries of its shade and strong branches? Perhaps they were simpler times and often I think that is a good thing, at least for me. I'm glad I still have the memories because the trees and the gardens are now gone.
Which brings me back to the birch tree out front.
I remember the day the it came home to us. A new Walgreens had opened downtown. As a promotion the store was giving away seedling birch trees in large paper cups. Our cup turned out to contain three trees, but only one was sturdy enough to withstand the traffic outside our front door. Once it took root it grew quickly and beautifully. It never was quite tall enough for me to sit under and dream, as I had done so often with the fruit trees out back, but it was graceful, peaceful in the way that only birches can be. Their cream-colored bark, interspersed with deeply brown knots, lend themselves to an especially romantic nature. Our birch became my birch as it grew tall outside my bedroom window. As it reached for the sky, so did I, and soon I left home for the rest of my life.
We all have these stories. Growing up and moving on is the stuff of which life is made. What caught my heart's attention at this time in my life isn't only the anticipated trip home and all the changes that have occurred in my absence. It is to recognize, again, that containers, boundaries, are good for us, but only for certain periods of time. If we stay stuck in them past their intended function we risk stunting our own growth and potentially our future lives. The birch tree would never have been if we had needed to keep it cloistered in its original holder, but by the same token the tree would never have made it to our door if not for the same cup. Nature gives us some clear-cut, obvious lessons, but they are usually a bit challenging to apply to human lives that usually have more gray areas, doubts and questions than seedling trees. Perhaps this idea is somehow related to human beings needing both roots and wings to flourish. Considering all these things my mind also wanders over to the inherent faith lessons.
First and foremost, I firmly believe that God didn't create me or anyone else to stay stuck romanticizing our childhood if we were fortunate enough to have one with some positive attributes. Starting life with a connection to creation unites us in a tangible fashion to our Creator. A whole lot of love from my parents went into that backyard too. They both remembered growing up during the Great Depression and wanted us to always feel we had good things in our lives that would not be taken away from us by economic downturns. God does provide in many and various ways.
Second, God urges us on to the rest of our lives in ways that only God can. Think you can find a nice, safe hole to crawl into, one in which God will never find you? Maybe for some length of time, but not usually forever. Crawling into a hole means you have seen the light of day long enough to realize a step forward is indicated. Hiding, pretending we are not ready for what God has in store for us, only takes time away from what can be, from what we were created to be.
Occasionally, I've heard grown ups, people who have been blessed to have a faith perspective their whole lives, say they attend a particular church because it's a place that "gets back to the basics." To say that attitude confuses me is an understatement. I have asked one or two of these dear souls how their faith informs their lives, only to be met by a confused stare. My understanding is that their beliefs have not kept up with their ability to quote scripture, and they have numbed themselves to hearing God's voice and feeling God's nudging, loving spirit. Of course they are not lost forever, but they have dug themselves a very deep home, one that may take some time and experience out of which to pull themselves.
Third, God is patent as we dig ourselves out of the holes we all inevitably dig for ourselves, always hoping more for us than we ever hope for ourselves. God has a whole lot of paper cups available for us, some to grow out of and some to grow into. The fitting rooms for trying them on are quite spacious, too, and have very forgiving mirrors.
The property on which the house stands, while small, is standard for the neighborhood. What made it special for our family was the bounty my parents created, bringing in pear, apple and plum trees, as well as asparagus, raspberries, rhubarb and Concord grapes, all of which we enjoyed, each in their seasons of plenty. A summer garden grew green beans, onions, tomatoes, carrots and cucumbers. What we didn't eat fresh or share with friends was canned by my mother, something a lot of moms did then, even though the process has fallen out of fashion with my generation. I appreciated the plums and raspberries most.. I have also retrofitted my honor for the richness of the past with respect for what asparagus and rhubarb cost at my local market.
While I remember the whole of the backyard bounty with fondness, the trees did more than feed our bodies. They also fed our souls. What is better on a warm Wisconsin summer afternoon than to welcome a tree's imagination into your own, establishing a whole world within the boundaries of its shade and strong branches? Perhaps they were simpler times and often I think that is a good thing, at least for me. I'm glad I still have the memories because the trees and the gardens are now gone.
Which brings me back to the birch tree out front.
I remember the day the it came home to us. A new Walgreens had opened downtown. As a promotion the store was giving away seedling birch trees in large paper cups. Our cup turned out to contain three trees, but only one was sturdy enough to withstand the traffic outside our front door. Once it took root it grew quickly and beautifully. It never was quite tall enough for me to sit under and dream, as I had done so often with the fruit trees out back, but it was graceful, peaceful in the way that only birches can be. Their cream-colored bark, interspersed with deeply brown knots, lend themselves to an especially romantic nature. Our birch became my birch as it grew tall outside my bedroom window. As it reached for the sky, so did I, and soon I left home for the rest of my life.
We all have these stories. Growing up and moving on is the stuff of which life is made. What caught my heart's attention at this time in my life isn't only the anticipated trip home and all the changes that have occurred in my absence. It is to recognize, again, that containers, boundaries, are good for us, but only for certain periods of time. If we stay stuck in them past their intended function we risk stunting our own growth and potentially our future lives. The birch tree would never have been if we had needed to keep it cloistered in its original holder, but by the same token the tree would never have made it to our door if not for the same cup. Nature gives us some clear-cut, obvious lessons, but they are usually a bit challenging to apply to human lives that usually have more gray areas, doubts and questions than seedling trees. Perhaps this idea is somehow related to human beings needing both roots and wings to flourish. Considering all these things my mind also wanders over to the inherent faith lessons.
First and foremost, I firmly believe that God didn't create me or anyone else to stay stuck romanticizing our childhood if we were fortunate enough to have one with some positive attributes. Starting life with a connection to creation unites us in a tangible fashion to our Creator. A whole lot of love from my parents went into that backyard too. They both remembered growing up during the Great Depression and wanted us to always feel we had good things in our lives that would not be taken away from us by economic downturns. God does provide in many and various ways.
Second, God urges us on to the rest of our lives in ways that only God can. Think you can find a nice, safe hole to crawl into, one in which God will never find you? Maybe for some length of time, but not usually forever. Crawling into a hole means you have seen the light of day long enough to realize a step forward is indicated. Hiding, pretending we are not ready for what God has in store for us, only takes time away from what can be, from what we were created to be.
Occasionally, I've heard grown ups, people who have been blessed to have a faith perspective their whole lives, say they attend a particular church because it's a place that "gets back to the basics." To say that attitude confuses me is an understatement. I have asked one or two of these dear souls how their faith informs their lives, only to be met by a confused stare. My understanding is that their beliefs have not kept up with their ability to quote scripture, and they have numbed themselves to hearing God's voice and feeling God's nudging, loving spirit. Of course they are not lost forever, but they have dug themselves a very deep home, one that may take some time and experience out of which to pull themselves.
Third, God is patent as we dig ourselves out of the holes we all inevitably dig for ourselves, always hoping more for us than we ever hope for ourselves. God has a whole lot of paper cups available for us, some to grow out of and some to grow into. The fitting rooms for trying them on are quite spacious, too, and have very forgiving mirrors.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Coming Home
Travelocity.com and I are becoming intimately acquainted on my diligent quest for flights home sometime in the next few months. Many other state tourism bureaus clam the title "God's Country" for their neck of the woods, but Wisconsin's Door Peninsula, where I grew up, is surely the place God rested on the seventh day. What better place to enjoy the land, water, fresh air, sunshine and homemade ice cream after six long days of constant creative activity? I once told a friend that I thought the whole world would be as beautiful as this place. She laughed, saying I must have been quite disappointed on discovering that wasn't the case.
Perhaps.
Something else to consider is whether or not we can ever go home, at least to whatever imagination holds, together with our heart, soul and memory, as being that perfect place in which we believe we feel most comfortable, most ourselves. That definition could easily describe an entirely different place than the physical boundaries our of which we found our way to adulthood. It's a fair question to ask ourselves: How do we think about home? All the implications contained in the answer each of us comes to inform the rest of our lives.
Having just celebrated my fiftieth last week, I am also living my jubilee year, something the Biblical book of Leviticus tells us is hallowed, a special time of reflection, reorganization and renewal. Another part of the jubilee story is that this is the time in our lives in which we find ourselves going to the land that God is giving us. Jubilee is not only a time to kick back, smell the roses and drink very old, very good Scotch. There is also some deeply felt movement in our souls that requires paying attention in new ways so as not to miss the next steps of the journey. For myself, I am not sure where the land is that God is giving me, anymore than I feel fully comfortable calling where I grew up home.
Is this uncertainty about home also a Biblical tradition, a sacred trust handed down to us through the named and nameless faithful ones preceding us? How did Adam and Eve feel after they were booted from Eden? What was their next address? Did they long for the only home they had ever known? I think of them, and I think of the Israelites wandering the desert for forty years, feeling a sense of kinship, an understanding of that confused, rootless state in which I have found myself each time I have moved. Excitement only carries me so far, and then I must find new places to grocery shop, get my hair cut and my teeth cleaned.
And what of Jesus' life? The Gospels don't mention his desire to find a good chiropractor while he was on the road working those three years, but they do mention that he stayed wherever he was welcomed. My guess is that translated into some pretty interesting accommodations, some of which he probably never mentioned to his mother. But he appears to have appreciated the hospitality of friends and strangers alike, those who had permanent pillows on which to lay their heads each night and who understood the needs of those who did not enjoy the same luxury. Sometimes home is carried for us by compassionate souls until we can find our way back there for ourselves.
Perhaps home isn't so much a physical place as much as it is how we find our way though life. If that is so, we are always coming home and God welcomes us, not as a treasured guest, but as family. Knowing that one basic truth is what carries us.
Perhaps.
Something else to consider is whether or not we can ever go home, at least to whatever imagination holds, together with our heart, soul and memory, as being that perfect place in which we believe we feel most comfortable, most ourselves. That definition could easily describe an entirely different place than the physical boundaries our of which we found our way to adulthood. It's a fair question to ask ourselves: How do we think about home? All the implications contained in the answer each of us comes to inform the rest of our lives.
Having just celebrated my fiftieth last week, I am also living my jubilee year, something the Biblical book of Leviticus tells us is hallowed, a special time of reflection, reorganization and renewal. Another part of the jubilee story is that this is the time in our lives in which we find ourselves going to the land that God is giving us. Jubilee is not only a time to kick back, smell the roses and drink very old, very good Scotch. There is also some deeply felt movement in our souls that requires paying attention in new ways so as not to miss the next steps of the journey. For myself, I am not sure where the land is that God is giving me, anymore than I feel fully comfortable calling where I grew up home.
Is this uncertainty about home also a Biblical tradition, a sacred trust handed down to us through the named and nameless faithful ones preceding us? How did Adam and Eve feel after they were booted from Eden? What was their next address? Did they long for the only home they had ever known? I think of them, and I think of the Israelites wandering the desert for forty years, feeling a sense of kinship, an understanding of that confused, rootless state in which I have found myself each time I have moved. Excitement only carries me so far, and then I must find new places to grocery shop, get my hair cut and my teeth cleaned.
And what of Jesus' life? The Gospels don't mention his desire to find a good chiropractor while he was on the road working those three years, but they do mention that he stayed wherever he was welcomed. My guess is that translated into some pretty interesting accommodations, some of which he probably never mentioned to his mother. But he appears to have appreciated the hospitality of friends and strangers alike, those who had permanent pillows on which to lay their heads each night and who understood the needs of those who did not enjoy the same luxury. Sometimes home is carried for us by compassionate souls until we can find our way back there for ourselves.
Perhaps home isn't so much a physical place as much as it is how we find our way though life. If that is so, we are always coming home and God welcomes us, not as a treasured guest, but as family. Knowing that one basic truth is what carries us.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Graduations
Pomp and Circumstance, the traditional graduation processional, echoed outside my door a few days ago. A local high school presides over the entire block across the street, so I shouldn't have been as surprised as I was hearing their rehearsal for this year's big day
But graduation already? Didn't we just celebrate Christmas?
This whole sense of time moving faster as we get older carries a good sized chunk of truth. I'm celebrating my fiftieth birthday this year and it was an equally surprising event the day that the first piece of literature arrived in my mail box from the American Association of Retired Persons (AARP). How did they find me so fast? Turning fifty isn't particularly traumatic to me and, in fact, it feels quite nice to consider how many years I have managed to enjoy so far, but it seems a more private matter, an important piece of my journey that I want to preserve and shape for myself with no interference from outside sources. Perhaps the good folks at AARP were simply not aware of my wishes, and if they were, I am sure they would have held back a little until I was ready to receive their grand offers of value-priced health insurance, travel discounts and spa treatments that will keep me looking younger than they already know I am.
So here I am, reflecting back on some remembered high points: my high school, college and seminary graduations, first meetings with friends who are still a part of my life ten, twenty and thirty years later, great loves gained and lost. Quite frankly, though, I don't remember many of the details of any of these moments that have impacted my life in profound ways. I do have a few cherished stories, but even those don't make up the bulk of what has transpired to be a rich and happily-lived life. What I do know is that appreciating how my education, relationships and accomplishments inform my life now matters more to me and keeps me stepping in rhythm with God on what I believe to be spiritual journey.
Biblical references to life and cultural graduations and transitions are abundant. The Israelites headed out for the Promised Land and kept on going. Moses snagged the Ten Commandments, led his people out of Egypt and they still kept going. Forty years in the wilderness, learning what it meant to live as God's people outside the framework of slavery was a daunting task, but they did it. The New Testament continues the saga of God's people facing issues of relational quality, how to balance faith with government rules and regulations and translating what is into what can be according to their understanding of Jesus' definition of the Kingdom of Heaven. And they, just as we, encountered life issues that are as beautiful and ordinary as God's grace woven among us. People kept being born and dying, marrying and giving in marriage, working and paying taxes. Daily life may look different than ours in its details, but the basic human quotient remains the same today as it did then.
A simple thread of human understanding of how life works at its best binds us to our spiritual ancestors as surely as our hearts and souls remember all the gifts they have given us in how they lived their lives with faith and hope. The decisions to move forward always expand our lives, but the ones that shrink us into less than we are are the ones that look to the past as a safe place to escape the living that is left to do and enjoy. Remembering all the places from which we have grown is quite wonderful, but expecting to be preserved in history before our time on earth is completed only serves to assure that we will not be remembered at all, but left for dead long before our time.
These life transitions serve a solid purpose for our souls and our hearts, teaching us to pay attention, live with intentionality in our moments, so as these moments stretch into seasons and years we are able to recognize the miraculous intent of God With Us over the course of our lives.
T.S. Eliot once wrote that, "We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started, and know the place for the first time." I take great pleasure in these words, approaching the second half of my life with hope, joy and peace in the journey. I feel a new sense of graduation, a step into a whole new adventure filled with possibilities and wonder. Starting out in one's twenties holds a certain level of panic that I don't often feel anymore. I have frequently said that forgiveness and forbearance are the great gifts of middle age: some days you give and some days you get. But I also believe that a confident soul is a treasure worth celebrating, along with taking nothing fro granted.
But graduation already? Didn't we just celebrate Christmas?
This whole sense of time moving faster as we get older carries a good sized chunk of truth. I'm celebrating my fiftieth birthday this year and it was an equally surprising event the day that the first piece of literature arrived in my mail box from the American Association of Retired Persons (AARP). How did they find me so fast? Turning fifty isn't particularly traumatic to me and, in fact, it feels quite nice to consider how many years I have managed to enjoy so far, but it seems a more private matter, an important piece of my journey that I want to preserve and shape for myself with no interference from outside sources. Perhaps the good folks at AARP were simply not aware of my wishes, and if they were, I am sure they would have held back a little until I was ready to receive their grand offers of value-priced health insurance, travel discounts and spa treatments that will keep me looking younger than they already know I am.
So here I am, reflecting back on some remembered high points: my high school, college and seminary graduations, first meetings with friends who are still a part of my life ten, twenty and thirty years later, great loves gained and lost. Quite frankly, though, I don't remember many of the details of any of these moments that have impacted my life in profound ways. I do have a few cherished stories, but even those don't make up the bulk of what has transpired to be a rich and happily-lived life. What I do know is that appreciating how my education, relationships and accomplishments inform my life now matters more to me and keeps me stepping in rhythm with God on what I believe to be spiritual journey.
Biblical references to life and cultural graduations and transitions are abundant. The Israelites headed out for the Promised Land and kept on going. Moses snagged the Ten Commandments, led his people out of Egypt and they still kept going. Forty years in the wilderness, learning what it meant to live as God's people outside the framework of slavery was a daunting task, but they did it. The New Testament continues the saga of God's people facing issues of relational quality, how to balance faith with government rules and regulations and translating what is into what can be according to their understanding of Jesus' definition of the Kingdom of Heaven. And they, just as we, encountered life issues that are as beautiful and ordinary as God's grace woven among us. People kept being born and dying, marrying and giving in marriage, working and paying taxes. Daily life may look different than ours in its details, but the basic human quotient remains the same today as it did then.
A simple thread of human understanding of how life works at its best binds us to our spiritual ancestors as surely as our hearts and souls remember all the gifts they have given us in how they lived their lives with faith and hope. The decisions to move forward always expand our lives, but the ones that shrink us into less than we are are the ones that look to the past as a safe place to escape the living that is left to do and enjoy. Remembering all the places from which we have grown is quite wonderful, but expecting to be preserved in history before our time on earth is completed only serves to assure that we will not be remembered at all, but left for dead long before our time.
These life transitions serve a solid purpose for our souls and our hearts, teaching us to pay attention, live with intentionality in our moments, so as these moments stretch into seasons and years we are able to recognize the miraculous intent of God With Us over the course of our lives.
T.S. Eliot once wrote that, "We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started, and know the place for the first time." I take great pleasure in these words, approaching the second half of my life with hope, joy and peace in the journey. I feel a new sense of graduation, a step into a whole new adventure filled with possibilities and wonder. Starting out in one's twenties holds a certain level of panic that I don't often feel anymore. I have frequently said that forgiveness and forbearance are the great gifts of middle age: some days you give and some days you get. But I also believe that a confident soul is a treasure worth celebrating, along with taking nothing fro granted.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Wedding Meditation
My great good fortune has been to know Allison since just before she was born.
I was returning home to Connecticut from performing another wedding. Allison's parents, Tracy and Brian, were in charge of transporting me from Milwaukee to Chicago's O'Hare International Airport. But it wasn't to be because Allison decided this was her time to arrive.
However, I missed her actual coming into the world. Having delayed my breakfast that morning, I decided to take a trip down to the cafeteria for a hearty repast of cheese curls and quick read of People magazine.
Suffice it to say I also learned an important theological life lesson that day: always eat a good breakfast in a timely fashion so as not to miss out on God's finest moments of love and grace.
From the beginning God has been about the creative process of these fine moments, miracles really, of simply being among us. In Genesis we are told how God formed the world, then continued on by bringing us into being to care for it. Then, through Paul's first letter to the church at Corinth we discover how to care for one another.
How we are to go about this is with patience, kindness, humility and gentleness. Caring for one another means letting go of our need to be right, our need to be offended, our need to be cranky and our need to be resentful. Caring for one another, loving one another, means rejoicing in what is true, bearing and believing all things, hoping in and enduring all things, and doing this together. No exclusions.
It is not uncommon to hear these words at occasions such as we celebrate today. Romantic as our human notions of love can and should be, so should our understanding be of what love means as it grows and deepens through experience and time.
Marriage is one of the relationships in which love can show itself between people, but it does not stand alone. We hold out our hearts and souls each day and welcome others to do the same with us. God has blessed us with many kinds of relationships in which we can express the love about which Paul spoke. Parents, children, siblings and friends can all share this love with one another, the same love that God used to create the world. We were all created for community and we are all in this life, on this journey as one people.
T.S. Eliot, in a similar fashion, once likened our lives to a great exploration. He wrote that,
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time
Today we celebrate the love that Allison and Francis have chosen in each other. In their love, they bring together two families, two countries and all of us here today. We celebrate that love as their people, their community, their family. We shall not cease from loving, and the end of all our loving will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.
And, so as not to miss out on another of God's finest moments of love and grace, I assure you that I ate a very good and timely breakfast this morning. I hope you did too. Amen.
I was returning home to Connecticut from performing another wedding. Allison's parents, Tracy and Brian, were in charge of transporting me from Milwaukee to Chicago's O'Hare International Airport. But it wasn't to be because Allison decided this was her time to arrive.
However, I missed her actual coming into the world. Having delayed my breakfast that morning, I decided to take a trip down to the cafeteria for a hearty repast of cheese curls and quick read of People magazine.
Suffice it to say I also learned an important theological life lesson that day: always eat a good breakfast in a timely fashion so as not to miss out on God's finest moments of love and grace.
From the beginning God has been about the creative process of these fine moments, miracles really, of simply being among us. In Genesis we are told how God formed the world, then continued on by bringing us into being to care for it. Then, through Paul's first letter to the church at Corinth we discover how to care for one another.
How we are to go about this is with patience, kindness, humility and gentleness. Caring for one another means letting go of our need to be right, our need to be offended, our need to be cranky and our need to be resentful. Caring for one another, loving one another, means rejoicing in what is true, bearing and believing all things, hoping in and enduring all things, and doing this together. No exclusions.
It is not uncommon to hear these words at occasions such as we celebrate today. Romantic as our human notions of love can and should be, so should our understanding be of what love means as it grows and deepens through experience and time.
Marriage is one of the relationships in which love can show itself between people, but it does not stand alone. We hold out our hearts and souls each day and welcome others to do the same with us. God has blessed us with many kinds of relationships in which we can express the love about which Paul spoke. Parents, children, siblings and friends can all share this love with one another, the same love that God used to create the world. We were all created for community and we are all in this life, on this journey as one people.
T.S. Eliot, in a similar fashion, once likened our lives to a great exploration. He wrote that,
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time
Today we celebrate the love that Allison and Francis have chosen in each other. In their love, they bring together two families, two countries and all of us here today. We celebrate that love as their people, their community, their family. We shall not cease from loving, and the end of all our loving will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.
And, so as not to miss out on another of God's finest moments of love and grace, I assure you that I ate a very good and timely breakfast this morning. I hope you did too. Amen.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Traveling Lightly
Sad news greeted me a few weeks ago through a friend who works for the airline industry. The days of unlimited baggage are coming to a close. From now on we get one checked bag and one carry-on bag per person. If you can't contain yourself in that amount of space you will have the option to pay for additional bags.
Perhaps you have already been put in your place regarding your packing practices by the fifty pound weight restriction I first encountered preparing for my last flight. While surprised air travel had come to this, I really couldn't complain too much: I'd once recovered a suitcase at baggage claim wrapped in bright yellow caution tape announcing, "HEAVY LOAD - LIFTING ASSISTANCE RECOMMENDED." So, it's fair to say I helped put that policy in place and may have even been the poster child for the corporate discussions that cemented the deal.
Despite my past as an over-packer, someone who created and lived by the creed, "If you think you may need it, bring it; if you don't have room, bring another suitcase," I was ready to turn over a new leaf even before I heard the airlines had beat me to the punch. After all, it makes sense that less weight in the plane reduces the fuel draw and therefore supports caring for the environment. From an economic standpoint it also makes sense that the people who feel a need to bring extra should pay extra instead of all of us bearing the burden for a few.
There is also a theological notion to this idea of traveling lightly. Luke's gospel tells us that, "Jesus said to the disciples, 'When I sent you out without a purse, bag or sandals, did you lack anything?' They said, 'No, not a thing (Luke 22:35)."
I could learn some serious packing skills from these folks.
What to wear, what shoes will look best with what outfit and be comfortable for anticipated activities all figure into my choices about what I will bring because I like to have choices when I arrive. If I forget a few things or don't plan ahead properly I feel as though I won't be comfortable the whole time I am away. But reading those few words exchanged between Jesus and his disciples has already relieved me of some deeply-felt need to make sure I have what I need when I arrive at my destination. Because if the disciples were sent out with everything they needed to do their work and live their lives, why would I be treated any differently?
Attracting and manifesting abundance continues to be a hot topic. I believe many people still equate abundance with material wealth and all its perceived pleasure and security. Abundance as a spiritual concept is so much more than things and striving for more things. Security is a larger concept than financial accumulations that we feel will give us freedom and protect us from the world's catastrophes. Jesus' words to his disciples implore us to remember that we are whole, just as we were created, and that we lack nothing when we go into the world in service to God and our community. We already have everything we need.
Equally so, I am humbled by this exchange between teacher and students. My guess is the field trip on which Jesus sent his followers was designed to empower them, to reveal to them just how much God had invested in them as they were out and about assisting people they met in the most miraculous of ways. The disciples weren't able to preach, teach, inspire, or heal people because they traveled with the right clothing, shoes, accessories or hair care products. They weren't successful in helping those they met on their journey because they carried large sums of money to ease people's financial burdens.
The disciples were successful in doing these practical aspects of ministry Jesus had taught them by example and instruction because, consciously or unconsciously, because they relied on their wholeness in God. Any good coach will tell you that they are only passing on the tools they have used for themselves to those who already have the answers to their own questions inside of themselves. Jesus was a very good coach who then reminded these people closest to him on their return that they had relied very well on themselves and their faith. It was traveling lightly, not bringing excess, unnecessary religious baggage along that allowed Jesus to touch so many lives in such a short time. The same could be said for the disciples as they learned what they would need to know in order to continue Jesus' work after he had left them.
And so, we need to ask ourselves what it means for us to travel lightly as we live our lives each day. What can we let go of that hinders our personal growth or perhaps denies us our hope and faith in the future? What old patterns limit us from being our truly whole selves? Are we carrying so much extra, unnecessary stuff along that we are paying too heavy a price from which we could release ourselves?
My new packing creed is, "Think twice, pack once." Much shorter and easier, and I think my back will appreciate the lighter load.
Perhaps you have already been put in your place regarding your packing practices by the fifty pound weight restriction I first encountered preparing for my last flight. While surprised air travel had come to this, I really couldn't complain too much: I'd once recovered a suitcase at baggage claim wrapped in bright yellow caution tape announcing, "HEAVY LOAD - LIFTING ASSISTANCE RECOMMENDED." So, it's fair to say I helped put that policy in place and may have even been the poster child for the corporate discussions that cemented the deal.
Despite my past as an over-packer, someone who created and lived by the creed, "If you think you may need it, bring it; if you don't have room, bring another suitcase," I was ready to turn over a new leaf even before I heard the airlines had beat me to the punch. After all, it makes sense that less weight in the plane reduces the fuel draw and therefore supports caring for the environment. From an economic standpoint it also makes sense that the people who feel a need to bring extra should pay extra instead of all of us bearing the burden for a few.
There is also a theological notion to this idea of traveling lightly. Luke's gospel tells us that, "Jesus said to the disciples, 'When I sent you out without a purse, bag or sandals, did you lack anything?' They said, 'No, not a thing (Luke 22:35)."
I could learn some serious packing skills from these folks.
What to wear, what shoes will look best with what outfit and be comfortable for anticipated activities all figure into my choices about what I will bring because I like to have choices when I arrive. If I forget a few things or don't plan ahead properly I feel as though I won't be comfortable the whole time I am away. But reading those few words exchanged between Jesus and his disciples has already relieved me of some deeply-felt need to make sure I have what I need when I arrive at my destination. Because if the disciples were sent out with everything they needed to do their work and live their lives, why would I be treated any differently?
Attracting and manifesting abundance continues to be a hot topic. I believe many people still equate abundance with material wealth and all its perceived pleasure and security. Abundance as a spiritual concept is so much more than things and striving for more things. Security is a larger concept than financial accumulations that we feel will give us freedom and protect us from the world's catastrophes. Jesus' words to his disciples implore us to remember that we are whole, just as we were created, and that we lack nothing when we go into the world in service to God and our community. We already have everything we need.
Equally so, I am humbled by this exchange between teacher and students. My guess is the field trip on which Jesus sent his followers was designed to empower them, to reveal to them just how much God had invested in them as they were out and about assisting people they met in the most miraculous of ways. The disciples weren't able to preach, teach, inspire, or heal people because they traveled with the right clothing, shoes, accessories or hair care products. They weren't successful in helping those they met on their journey because they carried large sums of money to ease people's financial burdens.
The disciples were successful in doing these practical aspects of ministry Jesus had taught them by example and instruction because, consciously or unconsciously, because they relied on their wholeness in God. Any good coach will tell you that they are only passing on the tools they have used for themselves to those who already have the answers to their own questions inside of themselves. Jesus was a very good coach who then reminded these people closest to him on their return that they had relied very well on themselves and their faith. It was traveling lightly, not bringing excess, unnecessary religious baggage along that allowed Jesus to touch so many lives in such a short time. The same could be said for the disciples as they learned what they would need to know in order to continue Jesus' work after he had left them.
And so, we need to ask ourselves what it means for us to travel lightly as we live our lives each day. What can we let go of that hinders our personal growth or perhaps denies us our hope and faith in the future? What old patterns limit us from being our truly whole selves? Are we carrying so much extra, unnecessary stuff along that we are paying too heavy a price from which we could release ourselves?
My new packing creed is, "Think twice, pack once." Much shorter and easier, and I think my back will appreciate the lighter load.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Mercy for All
Election coverage continues here in the United States.
John McCain has been the decided Republican presidential candidate for what seems like a good long while. Democratic hopefuls Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama are still wooing potential voters with their ideas and plans to make our country a better place. All three are members of the U.S. Senate and each believes they can lead us forward into prosperity and a stronger position as a world leader.
I hold my own thoughts on who may be the best person for the job, but what I find most interesting in this race for the White House is the conversation around leadership itself. Leading other people means knowing what to do and simultaneously being able to convey to others what they must do . Pulling double-duty, so to speak. Some thrive under these circumstances. Many do not, no matter what their best intentions may be because leadership also requires, demands, the ability to look ahead and share the vision for those following behind so they may continue to act with faith and hope. How a leader views their followers indicates how they share the vision.
This is the position Jesus found himself in as recalled in Mark;s gospel. "Jesus saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things (Mark 6: 34)."
Mark's insights into Jesus' vision of those who were becoming his followers succinctly sum up the whole of Jesus' ministry. Jesus saw people where they were at in their lives and cared for them. Recognizing that they needed what he had, he offered it to them in abundance.
How many leaders have you known like this in your life?
Perhaps Jesus just had a unique style of working with people that is not able to be replicated, but I'm not ready to concede that point yet. Traditionally business folks are taught to keep their personal feelings and professional actions separate. "It's nothing personal, it's just business," is a phrase I've heard more than once as the precursor to downsizing, layoffs, and assorted other business practices that disassociate upper management actions from the humanity of their co-workers. What kind of vision do these kinds of leaders have for the continued development of their companies, and how do they really think the remaining workers will respond to them in the future? How much trust is denied and destroyed in the process?
Somehow, understanding that he could connect with a wide range of people simply by caring about them worked for Jesus. Also, Jesus knew his own strengths, knew that he could teach these people many things. He extravagantly shared his wisdom, knowledge, love, compassion, forgiveness, hope and his vision for the kingdom of heaven in as many ways as he could. He continued that work even as he was dying on the cross. That is some serious investment in his followers. Jesus didn't see the multitudes as people he could manipulate into who he wanted them to be to support his own need for power. Jesus stood in his own authority and welcomed people to him who wanted to claim their own authority as God's daughters and sons. He saw people with eyes filled with mercy and taught them with lovingkindness. Jesus saw his followers as already belonging to and living in the kingdom of heaven he helped them envision.
As I mentioned, I hold my own thoughts on who may make the best president for where our country is at in its history. I admit my bias is based on this leadership image that Jesus embodied. Mainly, Jesus was inclusive, valuing who people were and what they brought to the table. I want a president who looks at the citizens of this country in like fashion. And not just U.S. citizens, but people who live around the world, especially those in the poorest countries. My prayer is that we never have the luxury of excluding humanity from U.S. domestic or foreign policy based on our need to disassociate ourselves from other people's suffering to justify the means to our collectively-held end. My hope is that whoever becomes our next president has merciful eyes to see and wisdom to share what is ahead if we care for one another as our first objective.
John McCain has been the decided Republican presidential candidate for what seems like a good long while. Democratic hopefuls Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama are still wooing potential voters with their ideas and plans to make our country a better place. All three are members of the U.S. Senate and each believes they can lead us forward into prosperity and a stronger position as a world leader.
I hold my own thoughts on who may be the best person for the job, but what I find most interesting in this race for the White House is the conversation around leadership itself. Leading other people means knowing what to do and simultaneously being able to convey to others what they must do . Pulling double-duty, so to speak. Some thrive under these circumstances. Many do not, no matter what their best intentions may be because leadership also requires, demands, the ability to look ahead and share the vision for those following behind so they may continue to act with faith and hope. How a leader views their followers indicates how they share the vision.
This is the position Jesus found himself in as recalled in Mark;s gospel. "Jesus saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things (Mark 6: 34)."
Mark's insights into Jesus' vision of those who were becoming his followers succinctly sum up the whole of Jesus' ministry. Jesus saw people where they were at in their lives and cared for them. Recognizing that they needed what he had, he offered it to them in abundance.
How many leaders have you known like this in your life?
Perhaps Jesus just had a unique style of working with people that is not able to be replicated, but I'm not ready to concede that point yet. Traditionally business folks are taught to keep their personal feelings and professional actions separate. "It's nothing personal, it's just business," is a phrase I've heard more than once as the precursor to downsizing, layoffs, and assorted other business practices that disassociate upper management actions from the humanity of their co-workers. What kind of vision do these kinds of leaders have for the continued development of their companies, and how do they really think the remaining workers will respond to them in the future? How much trust is denied and destroyed in the process?
Somehow, understanding that he could connect with a wide range of people simply by caring about them worked for Jesus. Also, Jesus knew his own strengths, knew that he could teach these people many things. He extravagantly shared his wisdom, knowledge, love, compassion, forgiveness, hope and his vision for the kingdom of heaven in as many ways as he could. He continued that work even as he was dying on the cross. That is some serious investment in his followers. Jesus didn't see the multitudes as people he could manipulate into who he wanted them to be to support his own need for power. Jesus stood in his own authority and welcomed people to him who wanted to claim their own authority as God's daughters and sons. He saw people with eyes filled with mercy and taught them with lovingkindness. Jesus saw his followers as already belonging to and living in the kingdom of heaven he helped them envision.
As I mentioned, I hold my own thoughts on who may make the best president for where our country is at in its history. I admit my bias is based on this leadership image that Jesus embodied. Mainly, Jesus was inclusive, valuing who people were and what they brought to the table. I want a president who looks at the citizens of this country in like fashion. And not just U.S. citizens, but people who live around the world, especially those in the poorest countries. My prayer is that we never have the luxury of excluding humanity from U.S. domestic or foreign policy based on our need to disassociate ourselves from other people's suffering to justify the means to our collectively-held end. My hope is that whoever becomes our next president has merciful eyes to see and wisdom to share what is ahead if we care for one another as our first objective.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Wednesday Evening
Scripture tells us that Jesus and his disciples worked in and around Jerusalem from Palm Sunday through the early part of that week.
Much of their work remained as it had been for all the years they had shared their journey. Preaching, teaching and healing those who came to hear Jesus, to experience his authority and power, filled their days and continued on into their nights. Perhaps there was a greater sense of urgency on Jesus' part. But between the increased numbers of people in town for the Passover and the tensions brewing among the Temple authorities which added to their own ever-present exhaustion, the disciples could easily have brushed aside any concerns they had that something felt different, not quite right, even ominous. Jesus' messages focused on servanthood, the kingdom of God and watching for the trials and tribulations to come, all of which were well-received, Chief Priests and Pharisees excepted, of course. Jerusalem was their territory. Confrontations between them and Jesus were inevitable and had been expected. Having faced violence here before it had been a risk to come at all. But Jesus had insisted, here they were and any potential threats seemed to be at bay. It was unlikely any troubles would erupt with so many followers of Jesus close at hand.
Then something unexpected happened.
Unlike so many times before, as the daylight neared its end, Jesus rounded up the disciples and led them to Bethany, just outside the city, to rest privately for the evening. No crowds, no fitting themselves into a gathering of strangers filled with tax collectors, laborers, shepherds and tradespeople, sitting around a table eager for refreshment, both physical and spiritual, after another long, grueling day of life. They would have time together to eat, rest and pray with Jesus by themselves. None of them could remember the last time this had happened. It felt good to be away from all the noise and excitement, all the people jammed into the narrow streets of the city. Many of the twelve had families with whom they would not be spending this sacred time. To be able to pull back from their work, if only for an evening, was a luxury they didn't think they would be afforded, especially tonight. They would savor it, cherish it, for a long time. Who knew when they would have this chance again?
As Jesus and his disciples walked along, several of the twelve began to feel the shift. They glanced back at Jerusalem, then looked to Jesus, and a new awareness took hold of them. But only for a moment. In an instant, it was gone. Jerusalem was loud and bustling and Jesus was simply as worn out as they themselves were.
Tomorrow evening the Passover would begin. Who knew what miracles Jesus would perform? Perhaps this would be the night Jesus claimed his full power. Maybe they would witness the Messiah of God coming into his glory and see God's kingdom established on earth before their very eyes. What would that be like? What would the Chief Priests and Pharisees say to that? What would Rome do in the face of God's almighty reign? Time would tell.
But for tonight, they would rest.
Much of their work remained as it had been for all the years they had shared their journey. Preaching, teaching and healing those who came to hear Jesus, to experience his authority and power, filled their days and continued on into their nights. Perhaps there was a greater sense of urgency on Jesus' part. But between the increased numbers of people in town for the Passover and the tensions brewing among the Temple authorities which added to their own ever-present exhaustion, the disciples could easily have brushed aside any concerns they had that something felt different, not quite right, even ominous. Jesus' messages focused on servanthood, the kingdom of God and watching for the trials and tribulations to come, all of which were well-received, Chief Priests and Pharisees excepted, of course. Jerusalem was their territory. Confrontations between them and Jesus were inevitable and had been expected. Having faced violence here before it had been a risk to come at all. But Jesus had insisted, here they were and any potential threats seemed to be at bay. It was unlikely any troubles would erupt with so many followers of Jesus close at hand.
Then something unexpected happened.
Unlike so many times before, as the daylight neared its end, Jesus rounded up the disciples and led them to Bethany, just outside the city, to rest privately for the evening. No crowds, no fitting themselves into a gathering of strangers filled with tax collectors, laborers, shepherds and tradespeople, sitting around a table eager for refreshment, both physical and spiritual, after another long, grueling day of life. They would have time together to eat, rest and pray with Jesus by themselves. None of them could remember the last time this had happened. It felt good to be away from all the noise and excitement, all the people jammed into the narrow streets of the city. Many of the twelve had families with whom they would not be spending this sacred time. To be able to pull back from their work, if only for an evening, was a luxury they didn't think they would be afforded, especially tonight. They would savor it, cherish it, for a long time. Who knew when they would have this chance again?
As Jesus and his disciples walked along, several of the twelve began to feel the shift. They glanced back at Jerusalem, then looked to Jesus, and a new awareness took hold of them. But only for a moment. In an instant, it was gone. Jerusalem was loud and bustling and Jesus was simply as worn out as they themselves were.
Tomorrow evening the Passover would begin. Who knew what miracles Jesus would perform? Perhaps this would be the night Jesus claimed his full power. Maybe they would witness the Messiah of God coming into his glory and see God's kingdom established on earth before their very eyes. What would that be like? What would the Chief Priests and Pharisees say to that? What would Rome do in the face of God's almighty reign? Time would tell.
But for tonight, they would rest.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
To Jerusalem
What do you do when you are the Savior of the World, have a little over a week left to impart your message to your disciples and still have to make the journey to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover?
If you are Jesus of Nazareth, an itinerant rabbi and preacher, it appears you keep going about your business, even as you know you are about to face your own death.
On our calendar Palm Sunday arrives this Sunday. For Jesus and his disciples their journey to Jerusalem marked returning to a city that had attempted to stone Jesus earlier in his ministry. The twelve closest to Jesus had strong memories for that time. This place frightened the disciples even to the point of questioning Jesus' intention to return to Bethany, outside the city, to visit Lazarus, Mary and Martha to raise Lazarus from the dead. They had all survived that visit, Lazarus was brought back to life, his sisters were grateful to Jesus for saving their brother, but more ill will had been stirred up among the religious leadership. Jerusalem held great religious significance, but also intense political rivalries and fear that each Passover would only remind the Jewish people of a freedom from bondage that would never come again.
They were not alone on the road Thousands of Jewish pilgrims would be making their way to the city for the holiday. The road would have been hot and dusty, a grueling trip at best. Jesus' work with the twelve was almost completed as they traveled toward the City of Jerusalem, but His sense of urgency in letting His disciples know what they were about to walk into was clear to Him, if not to them. "And they were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them; and they were amazed, and those who followed were afraid. And taking the twelve again he began to tell them what was to happen to him, saying, 'Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem; and the Son of man will be delivered to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death, and deliver him to the Gentiles; and they will mock him and spit upon him, and scourge him, and kill him, and after three days he will rise (Mark 10:32-34)."
As they all continue walking, only James and John, the sons of Zebedee, come to Jesus to ask him for leadership positions as his closest allies when he comes into his glory. "But Jesus said to them, 'You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or to be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized (Mark 10: 38)?" The two men assure Jesus that they can fulfill these obligations, but Jesus tells them that he cannot promise them any kind of permanent positions next to him because those places are prepared by someone else.
Next on their journey Jesus stops to help blind Bartimaeus, a fellow traveler on the side of the road looking for a handout who instead receives healing and a new way of life as a follower of Jesus.
The ordinary and the extraordinary seemed to have merged for the disciples. Was it so commonplace to be a part of Jesus' life that they no longer heard His words or their implications? Had healings become so usual that the disciples just assumed a few would happen every day? Perhaps those closest to Jesus were simply used to his language, aware of the danger they were always in, but also caught up in the mystery and power of this fist century celebrity with whom they had aligned themselves. Perhaps they were also weary and fearful that if they listened more closely to what Jesus was saying they would be too frightened to forge ahead. Ironic, then, that the only two who spoke to Jesus after hearing His profoundly prophetic words of what the days ahead would hold, chose to discuss their place with Jesus after all the messiness was done. The bickering among the twelve for position in Jesus' kingdom would eventually catch up with them at the Seder table later in the week.
I often wonder what Jesus thought as he laid his head down to rest that night. Would the disciples understand what he was saying to them in time to become the leaders Jesus needed them to be? How many more times did he need to tell them that he was about to be arrested and put to death? How would he get through any of this without knowing they were still with him? Perhaps prayer was his only answer, the one that gave him the comfort to fall asleep, rise the next day and continue on to Jerusalem.
If you are Jesus of Nazareth, an itinerant rabbi and preacher, it appears you keep going about your business, even as you know you are about to face your own death.
On our calendar Palm Sunday arrives this Sunday. For Jesus and his disciples their journey to Jerusalem marked returning to a city that had attempted to stone Jesus earlier in his ministry. The twelve closest to Jesus had strong memories for that time. This place frightened the disciples even to the point of questioning Jesus' intention to return to Bethany, outside the city, to visit Lazarus, Mary and Martha to raise Lazarus from the dead. They had all survived that visit, Lazarus was brought back to life, his sisters were grateful to Jesus for saving their brother, but more ill will had been stirred up among the religious leadership. Jerusalem held great religious significance, but also intense political rivalries and fear that each Passover would only remind the Jewish people of a freedom from bondage that would never come again.
They were not alone on the road Thousands of Jewish pilgrims would be making their way to the city for the holiday. The road would have been hot and dusty, a grueling trip at best. Jesus' work with the twelve was almost completed as they traveled toward the City of Jerusalem, but His sense of urgency in letting His disciples know what they were about to walk into was clear to Him, if not to them. "And they were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them; and they were amazed, and those who followed were afraid. And taking the twelve again he began to tell them what was to happen to him, saying, 'Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem; and the Son of man will be delivered to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death, and deliver him to the Gentiles; and they will mock him and spit upon him, and scourge him, and kill him, and after three days he will rise (Mark 10:32-34)."
As they all continue walking, only James and John, the sons of Zebedee, come to Jesus to ask him for leadership positions as his closest allies when he comes into his glory. "But Jesus said to them, 'You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or to be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized (Mark 10: 38)?" The two men assure Jesus that they can fulfill these obligations, but Jesus tells them that he cannot promise them any kind of permanent positions next to him because those places are prepared by someone else.
Next on their journey Jesus stops to help blind Bartimaeus, a fellow traveler on the side of the road looking for a handout who instead receives healing and a new way of life as a follower of Jesus.
The ordinary and the extraordinary seemed to have merged for the disciples. Was it so commonplace to be a part of Jesus' life that they no longer heard His words or their implications? Had healings become so usual that the disciples just assumed a few would happen every day? Perhaps those closest to Jesus were simply used to his language, aware of the danger they were always in, but also caught up in the mystery and power of this fist century celebrity with whom they had aligned themselves. Perhaps they were also weary and fearful that if they listened more closely to what Jesus was saying they would be too frightened to forge ahead. Ironic, then, that the only two who spoke to Jesus after hearing His profoundly prophetic words of what the days ahead would hold, chose to discuss their place with Jesus after all the messiness was done. The bickering among the twelve for position in Jesus' kingdom would eventually catch up with them at the Seder table later in the week.
I often wonder what Jesus thought as he laid his head down to rest that night. Would the disciples understand what he was saying to them in time to become the leaders Jesus needed them to be? How many more times did he need to tell them that he was about to be arrested and put to death? How would he get through any of this without knowing they were still with him? Perhaps prayer was his only answer, the one that gave him the comfort to fall asleep, rise the next day and continue on to Jerusalem.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Grace To Be Ourselves
Brett Favre, quarterback for the Green Bay Packers, announced his retirement this week. At a news conference yesterday his simple explanation for the move was that he was tired. At thirty-eight and possessing graying hair, Favre and his family have been through multiple tragedies and upheavals in the last few years, but he kept on playing, even the day after his father died.
Having given more to the game than most and played the game with more joy than anyone, Favre had a right to his reasons and wanted his loyal fans to hear those reasons from him, not filtered through the media, which has been known to have quite vivid imaginations regarding the facts at times. Favre was emotional during the hour broadcast from Lambeau Field, home of the Packers and all they have accomplished. It seemed he embodied every uphill battle and triumph the team had delivered to the people of Wisconsin during his sixteen seasons.
What was quite wonderful, and rather poignant, was that of all the records that Favre holds - most yards passing, most starts, most passes completed among them - he claimed none solely for himself. He believes everything he did was a team effort and the whole team deserved credit for what are labeled publicly as his achievements. And what matters most to him is that he is leaving at the top of his game by his own standards, not anyone else's.
That said, Brett Favre is the first to tell you his is not perfect. His battles with prescription drug dependency and alcohol abuse are well-known and almost cost him his marriage and family.
But between the public hero and the private man who struggled to work through his issues to reemerge in wholeness and health lies grace. In this respect Brett Favre, Jesus and the rest of us have grace in common.
Grace is one of those words that gets tossed around like a Frisbee at a church social, so for the record, my dictionary and I are defining grace as, " unmerited favor or generous courtesy granted." Take your pick. Either way, grace is something we cherish when we are the recipients and something we have a lot to learn about offering up more often. So I think it is important to take the time to say that we may not be as familiar with how grace functions as we may pride ourselves.
With that settled, please know that I am not calling Brett Favre a messiah in any way, shape or form, nor do I believe he had a messiah complex. I don't think Jesus did either. Jesus lived His life with humility, kindness, faith and a complete boldness that was unheard of in His time and unmatched in our own. His public ministry, marked by frequent run-ins with religious authorities and filled with conflict, also contained instances of insightful teaching, miraculous healings and speaking events that drew crowds simply by word of mouth. The level of warmth and acceptance He felt for the marginalized people of His culture - women, children, tax collectors, prostitutes - drew controversy, but didn't distract Him from His work and did little to damage His image with the general population. People loved Him for who He was and what He brought to their lives: hope.
Meanwhile, scripture tells us that Jesus did struggle with this work He was called to do, and even more so, the brutal end he foresaw for His own life. Frustration with the disciples is evident. They can't be blamed for not quite getting the full depth of Jesus' thoughts and ideas. We have barely scratched the surface of that ourselves and we possess two thousand years of hindsight. I am fairly sure Jesus didn't blame them either. Having grown up in the Temple, Jesus also never left his faith behind to pursue or create a new religion. He understood, better than most, the power religious institutions can have over people. So even in his verbal scuffles with Scribes, Pharisees and Sadducees He knew they were trying to preserve a history and a people which had known more slavery than freedom, while He was pointing the way to a newly-defined freedom in God's love. Crowds followed Him day and night, hardly giving Him any opportunity for sleep, let alone personal reflection and prayer, but for these and the many people who were never able to grasp what Jesus was offering them, Jesus only had mercy and compassion.
And yet, in all that he thought, said and did, He didn't take credit for His knowledge, insight, teaching or preaching abilities, but always pointed back to God as His Sources of being. It may have been easier to smile and say, "Thank you," but He didn't. We remember Him today as One with authority, but also great humility. We remember Him as a man of grace, a man who gave unmerited favor and generous courtesy to those least deserving and those most in need of its transformative power.
And so, we are back to Brett Favre, expressing humility in the face of great opportunity to take all the credit, smile and say, "Thank you." Instead he chose the grace of shared experience, shared victory and shared credit with the people who helped him make it all possible. He chose grace, giving favor to those who had not asked him for it. He offered generous courtesy when no one would have faulted him for doing otherwise. He chose grace.
We too have the opportunity to express humility in the face of opportunities to take all the credit, smile and say, "Thank you." But instead, we can choose to extend grace to others at times when unmerited, unearned favor or generous courtesy may take some effort on our part. The effort is worth it, particularly when we may be blessed with grace we have not merited or earned, or have generous courtesy extended at a time when someone else makes the effort for us.
Having given more to the game than most and played the game with more joy than anyone, Favre had a right to his reasons and wanted his loyal fans to hear those reasons from him, not filtered through the media, which has been known to have quite vivid imaginations regarding the facts at times. Favre was emotional during the hour broadcast from Lambeau Field, home of the Packers and all they have accomplished. It seemed he embodied every uphill battle and triumph the team had delivered to the people of Wisconsin during his sixteen seasons.
What was quite wonderful, and rather poignant, was that of all the records that Favre holds - most yards passing, most starts, most passes completed among them - he claimed none solely for himself. He believes everything he did was a team effort and the whole team deserved credit for what are labeled publicly as his achievements. And what matters most to him is that he is leaving at the top of his game by his own standards, not anyone else's.
That said, Brett Favre is the first to tell you his is not perfect. His battles with prescription drug dependency and alcohol abuse are well-known and almost cost him his marriage and family.
But between the public hero and the private man who struggled to work through his issues to reemerge in wholeness and health lies grace. In this respect Brett Favre, Jesus and the rest of us have grace in common.
Grace is one of those words that gets tossed around like a Frisbee at a church social, so for the record, my dictionary and I are defining grace as, " unmerited favor or generous courtesy granted." Take your pick. Either way, grace is something we cherish when we are the recipients and something we have a lot to learn about offering up more often. So I think it is important to take the time to say that we may not be as familiar with how grace functions as we may pride ourselves.
With that settled, please know that I am not calling Brett Favre a messiah in any way, shape or form, nor do I believe he had a messiah complex. I don't think Jesus did either. Jesus lived His life with humility, kindness, faith and a complete boldness that was unheard of in His time and unmatched in our own. His public ministry, marked by frequent run-ins with religious authorities and filled with conflict, also contained instances of insightful teaching, miraculous healings and speaking events that drew crowds simply by word of mouth. The level of warmth and acceptance He felt for the marginalized people of His culture - women, children, tax collectors, prostitutes - drew controversy, but didn't distract Him from His work and did little to damage His image with the general population. People loved Him for who He was and what He brought to their lives: hope.
Meanwhile, scripture tells us that Jesus did struggle with this work He was called to do, and even more so, the brutal end he foresaw for His own life. Frustration with the disciples is evident. They can't be blamed for not quite getting the full depth of Jesus' thoughts and ideas. We have barely scratched the surface of that ourselves and we possess two thousand years of hindsight. I am fairly sure Jesus didn't blame them either. Having grown up in the Temple, Jesus also never left his faith behind to pursue or create a new religion. He understood, better than most, the power religious institutions can have over people. So even in his verbal scuffles with Scribes, Pharisees and Sadducees He knew they were trying to preserve a history and a people which had known more slavery than freedom, while He was pointing the way to a newly-defined freedom in God's love. Crowds followed Him day and night, hardly giving Him any opportunity for sleep, let alone personal reflection and prayer, but for these and the many people who were never able to grasp what Jesus was offering them, Jesus only had mercy and compassion.
And yet, in all that he thought, said and did, He didn't take credit for His knowledge, insight, teaching or preaching abilities, but always pointed back to God as His Sources of being. It may have been easier to smile and say, "Thank you," but He didn't. We remember Him today as One with authority, but also great humility. We remember Him as a man of grace, a man who gave unmerited favor and generous courtesy to those least deserving and those most in need of its transformative power.
And so, we are back to Brett Favre, expressing humility in the face of great opportunity to take all the credit, smile and say, "Thank you." Instead he chose the grace of shared experience, shared victory and shared credit with the people who helped him make it all possible. He chose grace, giving favor to those who had not asked him for it. He offered generous courtesy when no one would have faulted him for doing otherwise. He chose grace.
We too have the opportunity to express humility in the face of opportunities to take all the credit, smile and say, "Thank you." But instead, we can choose to extend grace to others at times when unmerited, unearned favor or generous courtesy may take some effort on our part. The effort is worth it, particularly when we may be blessed with grace we have not merited or earned, or have generous courtesy extended at a time when someone else makes the effort for us.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Primary Moments
Tuesday was a big day in United States politics.
In case you haven't heard we here in the US are in the process of figuring out who our next president will be. Final elections won't be held until November, but state primaries proceed through early summer, determining how many delegate votes each candidate will bring to their party's convention.
Senator John McCain earned the Republican party nomination last night, winning enough votes for Mike Huckabee, also running for the nomination, to concede defeat. Democrats, many of whom believed they would awake this morning to Senator Barack Obama defeating Senator Hillary Clinton for the party''s top spot, were met instead by Senator Clinton's three primary wins in Ohio, Rhode Island and Texas. Her hopes live and the Democrats still have a choice to make before the final leg of the campaign trail commences.
Presidential politics are usually more cut and dried, but this year is different. We have no incumbent president or vice president running for the job of leading the country. Many of us are discouraged over our involvement in the Iraq war, our own sagging economy and the general downward turn the country has taken during the last seven years of the Bush presidency. We want change, and people seem to be waking up to the fact that this is a democracy and we all have to participate to make it function like one.
Because this year is different, we have choices and we appear to be exercising them. More people are actually discussing politics again, stating their opinions, saying who they like and why. Some people are also listening to each other, considering what points they may have missed about a particular candidate. It's been a long time since we Americans cared enough to carry on a conversation about the future of our own country. We are desperately in need of this thing called hope.
We are also desperately in need of this thing we call faith.
Although it is said that religion and politics don't mix, I would contend that faith and politics cannot be separated on an individual, a more personal level. I don't so much care about large scale religious battles over land, communicant members or Best Church Band of 2008. My interest settles on those simple conversations we have when our guard is down and we feel we can trust another human being with a small part of our souls. These moments of personal exposure can be fleeting, but hold deep wells of hope for what we can mean to each other as God's people.
Consider how you may express your faith in a study group at your church. Would you be ready to quote scripture or a memorized passage from a prominent author familiar to most people sitting in the circle around you? Is the level of intimacy you feel with your fellow worshippers strong enough to withstand differences of opinion between political candidates or scriptural interpretations? Would you be willing to tell the person next to you that a mistake you made in your personal life may cost you your home or your family? Yet every day these kinds of truths are told and intimacies are shared among perfect strangers on commuter trains, in grocery store lines and at public restroom sinks. We find it easier to be ourselves, speak of our beliefs and our lives with people who know nothing about us and who likely will never see us again.
We keep certain boundaries around ourselves when we believe we are around good church people who expect us to be a certain way, sound like them or believe the same things they do because we believe in God, just like they do. We don't want to admit that famous author makes no sense to us, or that the political candidate another is supporting does not speak to our values. We don't want to fully admit who we are because we are afraid of being judged, even if we may be equally judgmental of someone else.
My point is that even though we like the idea of religious freedom in our country, the same we we value democracy as a whole, we don't much like to have discussions that embody that freedom because then we would have to actually think about what we believe. Agreeing with the group at church functions or sharing what we really feel and believe with total strangers in public places brings about the same result: we stay hidden, our faith stays stagnant, never integrating with our actions and allowing us to live fully as God's people.
I have heard mentioned that our faith, though personal, is not private. But living a public faith takes courage, resilience and the willingness to listen. Not everyone shares the same religious beliefs, even people sitting in the same pew with us on Sunday morning. Faith, like democracy, is not a spectator sport. Challenging each other, through discussion, education, open-mindedness and faithful observance to grow what we believe beyond a childhood memory of "Jesus Loves Me" is part of who we are called to be for and with one another.
In case you haven't heard we here in the US are in the process of figuring out who our next president will be. Final elections won't be held until November, but state primaries proceed through early summer, determining how many delegate votes each candidate will bring to their party's convention.
Senator John McCain earned the Republican party nomination last night, winning enough votes for Mike Huckabee, also running for the nomination, to concede defeat. Democrats, many of whom believed they would awake this morning to Senator Barack Obama defeating Senator Hillary Clinton for the party''s top spot, were met instead by Senator Clinton's three primary wins in Ohio, Rhode Island and Texas. Her hopes live and the Democrats still have a choice to make before the final leg of the campaign trail commences.
Presidential politics are usually more cut and dried, but this year is different. We have no incumbent president or vice president running for the job of leading the country. Many of us are discouraged over our involvement in the Iraq war, our own sagging economy and the general downward turn the country has taken during the last seven years of the Bush presidency. We want change, and people seem to be waking up to the fact that this is a democracy and we all have to participate to make it function like one.
Because this year is different, we have choices and we appear to be exercising them. More people are actually discussing politics again, stating their opinions, saying who they like and why. Some people are also listening to each other, considering what points they may have missed about a particular candidate. It's been a long time since we Americans cared enough to carry on a conversation about the future of our own country. We are desperately in need of this thing called hope.
We are also desperately in need of this thing we call faith.
Although it is said that religion and politics don't mix, I would contend that faith and politics cannot be separated on an individual, a more personal level. I don't so much care about large scale religious battles over land, communicant members or Best Church Band of 2008. My interest settles on those simple conversations we have when our guard is down and we feel we can trust another human being with a small part of our souls. These moments of personal exposure can be fleeting, but hold deep wells of hope for what we can mean to each other as God's people.
Consider how you may express your faith in a study group at your church. Would you be ready to quote scripture or a memorized passage from a prominent author familiar to most people sitting in the circle around you? Is the level of intimacy you feel with your fellow worshippers strong enough to withstand differences of opinion between political candidates or scriptural interpretations? Would you be willing to tell the person next to you that a mistake you made in your personal life may cost you your home or your family? Yet every day these kinds of truths are told and intimacies are shared among perfect strangers on commuter trains, in grocery store lines and at public restroom sinks. We find it easier to be ourselves, speak of our beliefs and our lives with people who know nothing about us and who likely will never see us again.
We keep certain boundaries around ourselves when we believe we are around good church people who expect us to be a certain way, sound like them or believe the same things they do because we believe in God, just like they do. We don't want to admit that famous author makes no sense to us, or that the political candidate another is supporting does not speak to our values. We don't want to fully admit who we are because we are afraid of being judged, even if we may be equally judgmental of someone else.
My point is that even though we like the idea of religious freedom in our country, the same we we value democracy as a whole, we don't much like to have discussions that embody that freedom because then we would have to actually think about what we believe. Agreeing with the group at church functions or sharing what we really feel and believe with total strangers in public places brings about the same result: we stay hidden, our faith stays stagnant, never integrating with our actions and allowing us to live fully as God's people.
I have heard mentioned that our faith, though personal, is not private. But living a public faith takes courage, resilience and the willingness to listen. Not everyone shares the same religious beliefs, even people sitting in the same pew with us on Sunday morning. Faith, like democracy, is not a spectator sport. Challenging each other, through discussion, education, open-mindedness and faithful observance to grow what we believe beyond a childhood memory of "Jesus Loves Me" is part of who we are called to be for and with one another.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Love in These Times
Valentines Day here, but I must admit that I miss the way love used to be. We don't think or talk about love with that old fashioned charm that once warmed our hearts. Love used to be about romance, flowers, candy, sweet notes secretly passed between lovers as private, delightful gestures. Love was a treasured commodity at one time, something sought after, cherished and protected. Love, longed for, and then, finally claimed, was honored with constant care and affection.
But talk of love is different now. Conversation about love seems to be stuck somewhere between intensely practical and completely unrealistic. So much of life boils down to the everyday details that hold our lives together and love has become just one more of those practical applications that bind us to each other like crazy glue. The other way love is often considered is as a magical adventure between soul mates who never misunderstand or hurt one another and live happily ever after like characters in a children's fairy tale.
Personally, I find the former rather stifling and the latter more pressure than I could ever live with. While my head tells me there are a hundred and one things that truly need to be done every day, my heart is quite clear in expressing its needs as well, and those needs have a good bit invested in being attended to with warmth, kindness and generosity of spirit. Would that love might be a place to be extravagant, whimsical, delighted in all that we can do and be for the people we love best.
There is Biblical precedent for this rich display of God's greatest gift to humanity. I Corinthians 13, often quoted at weddings, offers a stunning portrait of what Paul's interpretation of how God's love looks, what it clearly does not resemble and how we make it visible. Deceptively simple, each verse offers a mirror to the reader to help them determine how well they are giving what they so dearly wish to receive for themselves.
For starters, love is second to nothing in its importance in our lives, including vast language skills, prophetic pronouncements, faith and martyrdom. Next, what love looks like is described in detail. Love is patient, kind, not jealous or boastful. Love is not arrogant or rude. Love doesn't push its own agenda, nor is it irritable or resentful. Love is happy when things go right, not when they go wrong. Love is very strong, bearing all things, believing all things, hoping all things, enduring all things. Love doesn't end.
Then Paul points out the things that aren't quite as important as love, telling us that while love endures, these other things eventually fall away. Things like prophecies, languages, knowledge don't last the way love does. Paul finally draws us to understand that love, while enduring, is also perfected in allowing ourselves to know and be known by God, and by extension, each other. It is in this rhythm, this dance of life to which we are called to be with each other, that we come to fully grasp what it means to love each other. While faith and hope are valid companions, love is the greatest, most abiding force in our world.
The question then, each to ourselves, is to figure out how much we are helping or hindering our own process in knowing and being known in the world's most extravagant of all adventures. Rather than wondering what our beloved is going to present us with this Valentines Day, perhaps we can set aside some time to think about our own ideas of love and how they inform our daily lives with the people we love. We are constantly being reminded that our thoughts influence our lives as nothing else can. I believe this is true, and because of this truth we have a grand opportunity to reclaim some territory for that old fashioned, charming way of talking about love. You remember, that kind of love that endures, that inspires love songs and love letters. The kind of love that bears all things, believes in what can be and hopes with a full heart that all good things will come to pass.
But talk of love is different now. Conversation about love seems to be stuck somewhere between intensely practical and completely unrealistic. So much of life boils down to the everyday details that hold our lives together and love has become just one more of those practical applications that bind us to each other like crazy glue. The other way love is often considered is as a magical adventure between soul mates who never misunderstand or hurt one another and live happily ever after like characters in a children's fairy tale.
Personally, I find the former rather stifling and the latter more pressure than I could ever live with. While my head tells me there are a hundred and one things that truly need to be done every day, my heart is quite clear in expressing its needs as well, and those needs have a good bit invested in being attended to with warmth, kindness and generosity of spirit. Would that love might be a place to be extravagant, whimsical, delighted in all that we can do and be for the people we love best.
There is Biblical precedent for this rich display of God's greatest gift to humanity. I Corinthians 13, often quoted at weddings, offers a stunning portrait of what Paul's interpretation of how God's love looks, what it clearly does not resemble and how we make it visible. Deceptively simple, each verse offers a mirror to the reader to help them determine how well they are giving what they so dearly wish to receive for themselves.
For starters, love is second to nothing in its importance in our lives, including vast language skills, prophetic pronouncements, faith and martyrdom. Next, what love looks like is described in detail. Love is patient, kind, not jealous or boastful. Love is not arrogant or rude. Love doesn't push its own agenda, nor is it irritable or resentful. Love is happy when things go right, not when they go wrong. Love is very strong, bearing all things, believing all things, hoping all things, enduring all things. Love doesn't end.
Then Paul points out the things that aren't quite as important as love, telling us that while love endures, these other things eventually fall away. Things like prophecies, languages, knowledge don't last the way love does. Paul finally draws us to understand that love, while enduring, is also perfected in allowing ourselves to know and be known by God, and by extension, each other. It is in this rhythm, this dance of life to which we are called to be with each other, that we come to fully grasp what it means to love each other. While faith and hope are valid companions, love is the greatest, most abiding force in our world.
The question then, each to ourselves, is to figure out how much we are helping or hindering our own process in knowing and being known in the world's most extravagant of all adventures. Rather than wondering what our beloved is going to present us with this Valentines Day, perhaps we can set aside some time to think about our own ideas of love and how they inform our daily lives with the people we love. We are constantly being reminded that our thoughts influence our lives as nothing else can. I believe this is true, and because of this truth we have a grand opportunity to reclaim some territory for that old fashioned, charming way of talking about love. You remember, that kind of love that endures, that inspires love songs and love letters. The kind of love that bears all things, believes in what can be and hopes with a full heart that all good things will come to pass.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
New Year Confession
Welcome to the Year of Our Lord 2008.
If you are following tradition and doing your homework, you have sent last year out with all its triumphs, celebrations, regrets and mistakes. You are ready to move smoothly into this bright, shiny new year with a clean slate, a light heart and a positive outlook on what is to come.
If you haven't quite gotten around to handling these year end closeouts, let me offer you the opportunity to enter into a personal confession. I have a confession to make. Perhaps you do to.
Confession? Yes, confession, but not solely in the way most of us consider the practice. Confession isn't just about listing all one's faults to a priest or to God, although that is part of what I am proposing here. Confession is also about declaring what we believe, saying out loud what principles we hold to in our defining moments. Confession could be summed up as understanding what we believe, but also understanding how we have fallen short of living by what we believe.
Start this process of personal reconciliation by asking yourself what matters to you most in life. On what do you place value? Family? Friends? Hard work? Justice? Mercy? Integrity? We all have specific ideas of what is important to us. We bring these values into our lives by how we choose our behaviors. If we value family we find ways to make time to include our relatives in our lives. If we consider justice to be a moral commitment we find ways to act justly and create justice in the world. If we value mercy we extend mercy to those around us.
Confess to yourself now what principles guide your existence on this planet. Then take a few moments to identify how you are living our these principles.
Confession also, in the more well-known usage, offers us the chance to let bygones be bygones with ourselves, giving us the freedom to move forward in our lives without the burdens of what has already passed and over which we no control. Looking with honesty and humility at actions we have taken or words we have spoken that have not matched up with what we value is the process of confession. In other words, to confess our sins is to identify where we have separated ourselves from what we would have done or said if we had lived by what we believe. Take a few moments to see what you would have done differently and where you feel separation from who and what you want to be.
How we confess those missteps, those separations within ourselves is quite personal. Some people prefer the privacy of prayer, speaking directly with God. Others prefer the support of another person, be they minister, priest, rabbi, counselor or friend, a human being by whom they will not feel judged or criticized. Others write letters to themselves or keep a journal intended only for themselves. The how of confession is important only insofar as we each must choose what method is appropriate for us. No one can or should direct another to examine and revitalize their life.
And this brings us to the most important aspect of confession, particularly in our present world: confession isn't about inflicting guilt or shame or blame on ourselves or each other. Confession is the process by which we redeem our true selves, the person God delighted in creating, thereby bringing us back to a closer union with our Source of Being. In confession we remind ourselves to Whom we belong. Confessing what we no longer want to repeat from the past allows us the grace to look to the future with a renewed spirit of faith.
If you are following tradition and doing your homework, you have sent last year out with all its triumphs, celebrations, regrets and mistakes. You are ready to move smoothly into this bright, shiny new year with a clean slate, a light heart and a positive outlook on what is to come.
If you haven't quite gotten around to handling these year end closeouts, let me offer you the opportunity to enter into a personal confession. I have a confession to make. Perhaps you do to.
Confession? Yes, confession, but not solely in the way most of us consider the practice. Confession isn't just about listing all one's faults to a priest or to God, although that is part of what I am proposing here. Confession is also about declaring what we believe, saying out loud what principles we hold to in our defining moments. Confession could be summed up as understanding what we believe, but also understanding how we have fallen short of living by what we believe.
Start this process of personal reconciliation by asking yourself what matters to you most in life. On what do you place value? Family? Friends? Hard work? Justice? Mercy? Integrity? We all have specific ideas of what is important to us. We bring these values into our lives by how we choose our behaviors. If we value family we find ways to make time to include our relatives in our lives. If we consider justice to be a moral commitment we find ways to act justly and create justice in the world. If we value mercy we extend mercy to those around us.
Confess to yourself now what principles guide your existence on this planet. Then take a few moments to identify how you are living our these principles.
Confession also, in the more well-known usage, offers us the chance to let bygones be bygones with ourselves, giving us the freedom to move forward in our lives without the burdens of what has already passed and over which we no control. Looking with honesty and humility at actions we have taken or words we have spoken that have not matched up with what we value is the process of confession. In other words, to confess our sins is to identify where we have separated ourselves from what we would have done or said if we had lived by what we believe. Take a few moments to see what you would have done differently and where you feel separation from who and what you want to be.
How we confess those missteps, those separations within ourselves is quite personal. Some people prefer the privacy of prayer, speaking directly with God. Others prefer the support of another person, be they minister, priest, rabbi, counselor or friend, a human being by whom they will not feel judged or criticized. Others write letters to themselves or keep a journal intended only for themselves. The how of confession is important only insofar as we each must choose what method is appropriate for us. No one can or should direct another to examine and revitalize their life.
And this brings us to the most important aspect of confession, particularly in our present world: confession isn't about inflicting guilt or shame or blame on ourselves or each other. Confession is the process by which we redeem our true selves, the person God delighted in creating, thereby bringing us back to a closer union with our Source of Being. In confession we remind ourselves to Whom we belong. Confessing what we no longer want to repeat from the past allows us the grace to look to the future with a renewed spirit of faith.
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