More life
Holy Saturday has always been a strange day for me. I do what I can to live in the shadow of Good Friday's cross without flipping the page to Easter a day early. I realize how impossible it is to adequately describe how I try to live on this liminal day.

I sat in the sanctuary last night with my five year old sleeping in my arms and my seven year old sandwiched between his mother and me. Nearly all the candles had been extinguished as the story marched closer and closer toward death. I looked down to meet the eyes of my seven year old who whispered, "but he doesn't stay dead, right? He comes back alive...doesn't he..."

It wasn't that he hadn't heard the Easter story. I would guess that he could tell one or some combination of the four accounts about how God raised Jesus Christ from the dead. I don't know for sure, but I think he was struggling with his own ability to live with the pain of the cross without speeding past it on his way to the empty tomb. "...on Easter...he comes back?" Though I knew I couldn't explain it right then, and I'm not even sure I could with more time, I said, "not yet, not yet."

He furrowed his brow, nodded and turned back toward the darkening story tellers.

Life and death. Death and life. We are dying while we live, yet we can choose to live while we die. We can try to explain it. We can deny one and cling to the other. But I find this life is one paradox after another. After these 40 days, have you found a satisfactory way to explain the nature of a paradox in your life? Do you think a paradox will go away if you can just erase one side of it?

Life and it's paradoxical companion, death, may be complicated and even painful at times, but together they do indeed offer far 'more than any illusion.'

As we prepare to step out of this Lenten wilderness, I'm grateful: for my journey, for Parker's words, for the mysterious nature of paradox and especially for your company.

If this has been a meaningful journey for you, I'd love to hear from you. I'm not planning another daily blog any time soon, but I don't think I can stop cold turkey. If you'd like to keep up with the next blog, you can check back here or send me an email and I'll be sure to let you know the address of the next one. Hopefully, that one will be a little more user friendly and easier to leave comments.

May this poem by Jane Kenyon be a gift to you on this Holy Saturday.

Otherwise

I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.

Day 39

Acceptable levels of death

I never read that the 40-Day Journey was designed as a Lenten devotion. So, I don't know if the editor was aware or perhaps even intended today's reading to occur on Good Friday. If not, the tragic irony of it is not lost on me.

I've spent the last three days, with a dear friend and pastor from Chicago. During the years I worked as an administrator in the seminary there, Martin was our pastor at Irving Park United Methodist Church. Though it was a small struggling church in one of the many urban neighborhoods, we went to Irving Park because the church housed the Reconciling Ministries Network and Pastor Martin lived and preached a life of personal holiness and social justice.

Among stories Martin shared with us this week about his days with Dr. King and his work in the civil rights movement in Chicago, two are keeping me company this Good Friday. The first was something he'd been told by those closest to Dr. King.

On the night before his death, Dr. King was with his 'senior staff' struggling with what his next steps should be for the movement. They'd all been on a long flight, they'd been working hard, things were incredibly stressful. As Dr. King considered the options, including a fast for justice, he found most of them had fallen asleep.

Our friend told us this story after last night's Maundy Thursday service, where we commemorated Jesus' time of prayer in the garden of Gethsemane. "What's must I do next?" Dr. King seemed to wonder the night before he was killed. His friends overwhelmed with the weight of it all and were overcome by sleep. Is this the way with those who are willing to absorb the violence of the world without retaliating?

The second story was one our friend lived with Dr. King. They'd been protesting by singing and marching for housing justice at a park in an all-white neighborhood. They were soon surrounded by crowds of angry homeowners who shouted at them, "calling us all kinds of horrible things."

My children listened earnestly as he said, "then they began throwing rocks and bricks. The police who were not usually on our side surrounded us, making a big circle around us to protect us. They tried to move us out of danger as quickly as they could. Dr. King was hit in the head by a piece of a brick," he said forming a circle with his finger and thumb to show that it was not as large as they might have thought. "He wasn't hurt very badly."

"I got hit in the leg by a piece of concrete. It didn't hurt me too much, but it surprised me when it stung my leg. I picked it up. I kept it for a long time, but eventually got rid of it."

For my children's benefit, I asked him why they didn't fight back. "Why didn't you shout back and throw the rocks back at them?"

Pastor Martin took great care in explaining how they believed like Jesus that the only way to get rid of violence is to take it into your body, to pray for those who are hating you even while they are hurting you. "It wasn't easy, but that's what we believed. And that's what we did. We kept singing and praying for those people even while the police led us out of the park."

Whether the dehumanizing effects of racism, environmental destruction or physical violence inflicted on any individual, what is an "acceptable level of death?" I don't know if we can know that until we are faced with how much of the world's violence we are willing to absorb without retaliating.

On this Good Friday, as we bear witness to the redemptive suffering of Jesus Christ, may God give us the courage and faith to absorb our own share of the world's violence, as we strive to give only love in return.

Day 38

I can see clearly now

I agree with Parker that when it comes to death, "we may become driven by fear, obsessed with protecting and preserving what we have, which is a sure way of losing it." I realize it may sound like he's suggesting that living with the hope of life on the horizon is a way of ignoring or denying the reality of death. However, having read more of Parker's writings, I think he would suggest that we should live fully aware that death lies between us and the horizon that holds the hope of life. As we look toward that horizon of life, we should not deny seeing death, neither should we focus our eyes on it as if it were the horizon.

I believe it is equally dangerous to try to see the horizon without seeing death, as if we could hold up our hand to block death from our sight. Instead, I believe living with death clearly in sight can free us from the illusion that we have all the time in the world: to do something meaningful, to do what we're supposed to do or to do something besides entertain ourselves.

There are many stories in many faith traditions about holy men and women who spoke in loving and familiar terms about death. I recall one such story that I think was about St. Francis who lived with the awareness that 'Sister Death' was always walking at his left side.

Though some think it morbid or depressing to keep death daily in our sights, when I am able to do so, I find I am more aware and grateful for this moment, the people and creatures around me and the very gift of life.

To be sure, we will all come face to face with death, why not befriend it now, that you may not live in fear of it. Death is not the worst thing that can happen to us; far worse, is to let our fear of death keep us from living a full life today. It is one of the saddest tragedies to hear someone at the end of life declare their regrets about not having lived the life they wanted to live.

May death be fully in view today, as you look toward God's horizon of eternal life, and may it free you to live the abundant life God desires for you.

Day 37

A pastor walks into a restaurant carrying a penguine...

Most of my earliest childhood memories involve being with others. In the fond memories, I can picture people laughing and smiling. Growing up with television as one of my constant companions (not something I condone in my own children,) I watched with interest as my parents and others would laugh and get such delight from Lily Tomlin, Rich Little, the Smothers' Brothers, and others. Though most of the humor soared over my head, I would get caught up in the contagious nature of laughter.

It was probably sometime during those early primary grades that I began 'entertaining' those around me. I copied Rich Little's impersonations, which resulted in my impersonation of an impersonation of John Wayne, James Cagney, Kathrine Hepburn or Richard Nixon. Like most copies of a copy, the result was probably a 'grainy and blurred' version of the original, but it seemed to have the desired effect: people laughed.

I have one clear memory 'holding court' while surrounded by my older cousins. Standing on a coffee table (again, I don't condone this,) I danced and sang along with the UK band, The Sweet, as the 45 of "Little Willy, Willy won't go home." Again, I'm sure I didn't understand the lyrics at the time, but I still remember the line 'dancing, glancing Willy drives them silly with his star shoe shimmy shuffle.'

For me the gift is not so much the 'entertainer' in me, as it is the love of people's laughter. Nowadays, I may be just as likely to laugh along with others, but I often find myself paying attention to the uniqueness of somebody's laughter: the sound and tone of it, the occasional abandon seen on their faces, the willingness to lose control to the point of sore facial muscles...

As I wrote yesterday, it's my hope and belief that laughter must be one of God's favorite sounds. Then again, it could just be one of mine.

May you know your gifts and may you master them in a way that delights God and others.

Day 36

Well...I think I'm good at...hmmm...well...

Naming our 'native gifts' out loud is risky as well. Doing so, we risk being humiliated by those who would openly disagree with us; others who might disagree less openly, but privately ridicule us to others; and still others who might dismiss us for as arrogant or at least lacking appropriate humility. Here again, the gift of solitude lets us see our gifts despite all voices to the contrary.

Even as I name those voices, I struggle to ignore them: "Should I take the risk to name my gifts?" "Are those really my gifts or am I just kidding myself?" "It really does sound self-promoting to say that, doesn't it?"

Perhaps even this is one of my gifts: naming my fears publicly, then stepping out into them anyway.

Those niggling voices whisper that humor is just one of the many tools I've developed to cope with life - a result of pathology rather than a gift. Shushing them with a glare, I still claim it as a gift, hoping it's true that laughter and silence are two of God's favorite sounds.

What gifts has God given you? Go ahead. Ignore those voices. Say it out loud.

Day 35 (on the actual day, if you're keeping track)

Ready...Fire...Aim

In seminary, one of my supervised ministry placements (i.e. internship) was at a boys and girls club located in one of Atlanta's public housing complexes. Based on an action/reflection model of learning, students worked ten hours a week in a ministry setting and then shared their self-reflections each week with a group of peers, which was led by a faculty member and a site supervisor.

After several weeks working with some very funny and energetic youth, I wrote a reflection paper in which I shared feelings of confusion and guilt. I was concerned about the feelings I had when I worked with these young people. I had been born into a family, race and class that gave me a privileged status that I had done little to nothing to earn. Driving in to the housing project, I wondered if I was doing this to make myself feel better or if deep down I thought of myself as some Lone Ranger coming to 'help' or 'save' these poor kids. It probably didn't help that the new/used car my parents had picked out and bought for me happened to be white.

Sharing my reflections with my group, I labored over my feelings and speculated about my motives. When I finished, my professor,who happened to be African American looked at me and said, "I don't care why you're doing it or what your motives are. I don't care why you go there, and I'm guessing those kids don't either. What matters right now is that you're going. If you wait around to have pure motives and all the right feelings, you might never do a thing. Just keep going; keep being there with those kids; and keep feeling whatever it is you happen to feel. Maybe the right motives will show up and maybe they won't, but I believe God will use you to make a difference in those kids' lives, and God will use them to make a difference in yours."

Thank God for that professor, and thank God for those kids. I believe God used both to teach me about Christian discipleship.

Have you ever started something for the wrong reasons that God may have used for good?

Day 34 (a day or two late)

Heart Ownership

What do pastors and flight attendants have in common? More than I would have guessed. Both walk down aisles of the people they serve; on occasion both are called up to help people with their 'baggage; both are expected to remain calm and helpful during emergencies; and both stand at the exit and say "goodbye" as people leave. However, none of these were the focus of an article that started me thinking about the similarities.

The article by Barbara Brown Taylor considered how both pastors and flight attendants both work in 'jobs' involving more 'emotional labor' than either physical or mental work, though not completely devoid of them.

Summarizing a book called The Managed Heart by Arlie Russell Hochschild, Taylor explained that:

Hochschild described "emotional labor," as work that requires the production of certain feelings in the worker, whose job entails the production of feelings in others. Focusing on flight attendants and bill collectors, among others, Hochschild interviewed scores of people whose livelihoods depend on the careful management of their feelings. Her particular interest is what happens to people's hearts when they agree to do emotional labor for pay...

The one instruction [flight attendants] receive over and over again is to smile--and beyond that, to smile as if they mean it. Customers can detect strained or forced smiles, their trainers tell them, and this may diminish their enjoyment of the flight...

This emotional labor must not show, however. If the flight attendant feels tired or irritable, this must be disguised. If a passenger turns hostile, the flight attendant is taught to reconceive that person as a fearful flyer or as a little child--anything that will help the attendant overlook the rude behavior and relate sympathetically to the passenger...

Hochschild found that most flight attendants cope by learning a form of "deep acting" that helps them produce the desired feelings in themselves. They learn other strategies for repressing negative feelings so that they do not erupt on the job. After a while, many say they have a hard time recovering their true feelings once their shifts are over. They begin to lose track of when they are acting and when they are not. Eventually they become aware that the hidden cost of managing their emotions for pay is the impoverishment of their emotional lives. They have sold their hearts, and do not know how to buy them back.

Flight attendants are not the only people who do this, of course. Hochschild estimates that one-third of American workers have jobs that demand some form of emotional labor. From the sales associate who is trained to make a good first impression to the physician who is coached on bedside manner, many of us learn how to manage our hearts in the workplace...

Taylor was struck by how similar this 'managing of the heart' is to what's expected of clergy. Few people would ever say they'd rather have their pastor hide their real feelings, but as she pointed out, people don't want an "edgy pastor anymore than they want a surly waiter."

While we may all be asked, expected or even willing to 'manage our hearts,' we should remember that they are indeed ours to manage or not. If we 'overmanage' them, if we teach them to lie so much that we do not recognize their truth, if we let them 'be dictated by other people or an impersonal culture,' then it will take a great deal of solitude to recognize and reclaim them.

In addition to the solitude that Parker suggests in today's reading, Barbara Brown Taylor offers this wisdom to her clergy colleagues (though I think it's appropriate for everyone):

One way to safeguard them, I believe, is to separate the gift of our feelings from our salaries. As a good friend once reminded me, people can pay us to proofread the bulletin, watch the budget, attend committee meetings and deal with denominational bureaucracy, but they cannot pay us to love them.

That, it turns out is something we can choose to do or not. Smiling or not, that's just not something most of us can manage to fake for long, regardless of our job description.

Whether you choose to share your answers on the blog or not, I wonder:
In what currencies do others use to pay you to 'manage your heart?'
In what ways, do you let others 'own your heart?'

Day 33

"You may already be a winner!"
Marketing and magicians have at least one thing in common. They are successful only if they create an illusion that the majority of people can believe.

We are bombarded with new illusions everyday: "buy this and be successful, happy, attractive, secure, healthy..." "There's never been a better time to buy!" "...will save you hours in the kitchen." "If elected, I'll save the planet from certain doom!" (Ok, I made that last one up.)

Dis-illusioned long ago, few of us are willing to fall for outrageous claims, come-ons and 'it's too good to be true.' Still, we are often easy targets for those who can appeal to our baser instincts of fear and greed.

I'm not sure what all those folks would do if our nation's citizenry all became dis-illusioned at the same time. Then again, maybe that's part of what's been happening these past few months. After being sold a truckload of illusions, more and more people seem to be saying, "I'm just not buying it." I'm just hoping it doesn't become the next 'reality' TV show.

May God give us the strength to bear the shattering of our illusions and the courage to live reality instead of watching it.

Day 32

The gift of disillusionment
The most comical illusion I have, the one that can actually make me laugh out loud says, "if you're going to waste your time shattering illusions during times of contemplation, then I'm going to have nothing to do with you!"

Unrelenting, for me is the illusion that says, "Go ahead, you deserve it (it = my latest 'craving'.) Compare yourself to others. They still have more than you." Of course, the key is to always compare 'up,' never 'down.'

One of the most common illusion I've seen at work in churches is "if we don't do _______________ (fill in the blank), we'll shrink and die." The illusion is that we could know what will happen and that it will always end in the worst case scenario. Then there's the notion that keeping the institution alive is the same as being the body of Christ in the world.

If you're willing to share:
What illusions are your greatest struggles?

What illusions (destructive or not) seem to have the most support and power in the church?

By the grace of God, may we all become dis-illusioned and empowered to confront reality face-to-face.

Day 31

For years, I thought the only creative part of my 'paid work' involved writing and preaching sermons. I put so much energy into my efforts to imagine, craft, edit, prepare and deliver the sermon. Thinking that the amount and quality of my work up to, and on Sunday morning would determine the outcome in people's lives.

I was 33% correct (if that.) I had not accounted for the creativity, imagination and effort of the listener on Sunday morning. Neither had I considered what they would do the rest of the week (or the rest of their lives) with what they'd heard.

I now know that the third Person at work in the equation was/is the one whose creativity cannot be measured in hours our words. It is the mysterious work of the Spirit, the breath of God that carries the words of my mouth to the ears of the hearers. This same Spirit is the one who breathes on the embers within our souls until they are an impassioned blaze.

As I reflect on my 'paid work' now, I believe I am one of the partners in the co-creative work of ministry. Preaching is just one of the activities where I am invited to bring my creativity. There are others that have emerged over time: one I refer to as being the spiritual leader of spiritual leaders. A third may seem a less likely place for creativity: the often wordless times of sitting with those in pain, greif or waiting for death.

I know a little more now about the creativity of my work and my vocation. If such knowledge comes with age, I may have it figured out in another 30 years.

May we each trust ourselves enough to share our creativity where we are, and may we have the patience and humility to let the Spirit of God inspire us to even greater creativity in the future.

make that Day 30

Summers of scarcity and abundance
Three words:
BAGS OF ZUCCHINI

Day 29

The muck and mire
Last fall, we finished tearing out the remaining "mature" landscape in the front yard of our new home. We hoped to get grass and a few new plants in before it was too cold. Mission failure! For six months, ours has been the only house on the block with its very own dirt lot.

As unpopular as it must be with our very patient neighbors, the neighborhood children seem to rather fond of it. On their way to and from school, they take their twice daily detours off of the sidewalk and into our 'yard.'

I remember the joy of playing in dirt and mud, but for whatever reason, the older I get the less enjoyment I find in it. Maybe it has to do with the 'work' that has to be done, or the cleanup required when the children come after playing. Then again, it may have something to do with getting closer and closer my return to it with every passing birthday. Like it or not, now that it's warming up, it's time to take up our project again. The dirt lot is frequently a mud bog, which is even more appealing to younger passersby.

Recently, we were blessed with a few weather changes all in one day. Wind turned to rain that gave way to brilliant sunshine, and while cold by the standards of most sensible adults, my five year-old thought 58 degrees was summer weather. Walking out barefoot to where I was working, he stood smiling, his arms outstretched, his toes squishing in the cool mud. This was his posture as he announced, "I love feeling the sun on my face and the mud between my toes." There he stood like an early hyacinth, rooted in the warming wetness of the earth and grinning toward the sun.

I thank God for mud and five-year olds! I even thank God for unfinished yard work that calls me back to my humble beginnings.

Day 28

'If you can't get out of it, get into it.'

Outward Bound is a non-profit educational organization that invite people to experience self-discovery and personal growth through a life-changing wilderness experiences. Whether true or not, I once read a story that indicated the title quote was one of their unofficial 'mottoes.' When I read it, I thought it wouldn't be a bad personal motto.

To think that we might live long life without ever experiencing the 'winters' of failure, betrayal, depression or death is delusional at best. While we need not circumambulate the globe of personal experience in pursuit of these winters, it's equally inadvisable to chase the 'summer' sun.

In one of her spiritual memoirs, When the Heart Waits, Sue Monk Kidd writes about her personal winter experiences. Quoting TS Eliot, she began, "I said to my soul, be still, and let the darkness come upon you. Which shall be the darkness of God."

In a chapter titled, 'Incubating in the darkness,' she continues,

"I feel as if a candle has blown out inside me. Earlier today I read a passage from New Seeds of Contemplation in which (Thomas) Merton said that if the person who has come upon the spiritual dark night is carried away with impatience, ‘he will run away from the darkness and do the best he can to dope himself with the first light that comes along.’ That’s my temptation. This idea of remaining in the darkness is foreign to me. I'm a light-seeking creature and an impatient one at that. But could it be that
seeking light, real light, not the artificial stuff, comes only by dwelling for a time in the dark? Dear Lord I don't think I can stand more paradox!

...The darkness gets excruciating. In fact, the other word that sums up my
darkness is tension. In the dark cave of my own being, I'm brought into sharper
contact with my pain. At night shadows that I cant see in daylight play on the
wall. I see my wounds, my conflicts, my incompetencies, and my longing in
heightened outlines on the walls of my soul.

I'd like to be rid of this darkness. To unwrap the cocoon. Get busy. Do something to take my mind off my ‘suffering,’ latch onto some easy, neon answer that will camouflage the shadows. But I have the sense lurking inside that there’s a mystery unfolding in the darkness that can't come any other way.

Could it be that this is a holy dark?"

Considering the many biblical images of darkness, we might do well to embrace the dark winters and see what emerges: Jonah's three days in the darkness of the great fish; Saul's three days of darkness before his sight regaining conversion; and of course, Jesus' three days in the darkness of the tomb.

As we encounter our own dark days of winter, may we feel the warmth of others nearby, even if we are still unable to see them.

Day 27

On Death and Dying
I am again enjoying the delightful 'divine conspiracy of accidents.' This Sunday morning's scripture is John 12:20-36 from which we hear, "Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life."

As a pastor, our practices around death highlight how our culture acutely seeks to deny death. Though not in my own experience, I know that some in our congregation remember how families used to care directly for those who died. Washing and dressing the body, they would hold wakes or viewings parlors in their homes instead of having professionals do the washing and dressing, and occasionally having viewings in funeral 'parlors.'

My grandmother's funeral was the first I attended. At twelve years old, my aunt walked me from my seat to 'go see Mammaw.' There she was laid out in some dress I'd never seen her in, wearing make-up I'd also never seen on her. "Doesn't she look like herself?" my aunt asked me.
I was pretty sure this was one of those questions I wasn't supposed to answer. So, I didn't.

Then she took my hand and laid it on the hand that had belonged to my grandmother. I don't remember what my aunt said. I just remember thinking how cold and waxy feeling that hand was. I remember thinking, 'that used to be my Mammaw, but it isn't anymore, and it's a good thing, because I don't think she'd like being in that cold body all dressed up wearing makeup.'

I've has the difficult, but sacred privilege of being with families as they witness the death of their loved ones. Sometimes I've been the only one in the room with any similar experience. Occasionally there are questions: "Is it ok if we touch them?" "Should we leave the room?" "Are we supposed to say anything?" "What happens next?"

I've noticed that the people who seem most comfortable at death's arrival fall into two categories: those who have previously seen death come to others and children. I have my theories about both, but they're just theories. Suffice to say, it takes a significant amount of training to learn how to deny death. Until then, it's just part of life.

May we learn the richness of life by letting go of our grip on it, and as poet Mary Oliver writes, may "want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:/what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?"

Day 26

Making Babies - Post Dated

Unable to write yesterday, or sit up for part of the day, I wanted to offer at least a few words reflecting on yesterday's reading. (Keep in mind they are largely off topic.)

When I read the excerpt from Parker's writings about hearing Alan Watts the different way American and Chinese children ask about babies, I remembered questions my own children asked. I also recall a radio interview that dealt primarily with the fear parents have about these questions, thinking that their three-year-olds are asking about sex.

The author suggested that parents listen and ask questions before giving a detailed lesson on human anatomy and animal husbandry. In different ways, with different interests and different levels of understanding, children become curious and ask about their own origins.

"Where did I come?" from is usually the first question. 'Don't panic!' the author said, 'this is only a geography question, an exploration of time and space.' The child wants to know exactly what they are asking, "where, what location, what 'address' did I occupy before I became me." At this early stage, the child is trying to make sense of how everything has a beginning and an end. "So, where and when did I begin?"

Having understood that he or she started somewhere else once upon a time, (before I was in there, and now I am out here), the child now wants to know, "How did I get out of there?" Again, Don't panic! This is not a question about human sexuality. It is instead a question about distance and transportation.

The author explained that a third question shows up even later, but still before the child is really interested in sexuality. Understanding she or he used to be a baby in there, but eventually travelled out here, the child pictures her/himself in the womb. The child eventually understanding general concepts about why things happen they way they do (e.g. things fall because of something called gravity, people die because their heart or something inside them stopped working...) One day, something reminds the child about being in the womb and traveling out, and they are struck by the notion of cause and effect. If everything in the world is caused by something, how was I caused, or more specifically, "How did I get in there in the first place?"

Her explanation of this question is what fell directly under Parker's vis a vis Watt's criticism. "This," she said, "is the question about manufacturing. Knowing that babies have not always existed, the child knows that they must somehow be built."

I wonder if there's another stage somewhere down the line, where we wonder without needing an answer, a stage where creation, mystery, eternity and questions of before I was built and after this machine fails.

I suppose someone even has answers to these questions, but I don't want to hear them. I'm pretty sure I'm not ready for those yet.

May we find the grace to live without answers to some questions, and by the grace of God, may we find delight in the wonder and mystery of them.



(Written 3/26 - Travelling alone
Your blogging pastor has been hit by a stomach virus. I hope to back to 'normal' tomorrow. We'll see.)

Day 25

Mine, yours or ours

Is it surprising to think that the inner work of leadership is deeply "personal, but not necessarily private?" It seems to be the case with most things in our lives.

Prayer is deeply personal, but the prayer Jesus taught was entirely corporate: "Our Father, give us...our bread...forgive us...as we forgive...lead us...deliver us." There was also the mention of "where two or three are gathered." Worship is deeply personal, but according to scripture it is always done in community.

The little I know (which may be enough to get me in trouble) about Judaism, Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism, suggests that faith is always a deeply personal journey, but one that cannot be divorced from community. Like Christianity, no one can walk the spiritual path for you, but neither can you walk it alone. Personal faith and community are inseparably symbiotic.

Reading over the deluge of economic news, we are constantly reminded of our interconnectedness. As individuals, I may choose what to do with my money, but those choices in conjunction with others' will effect the whole.

It may seem appealing to eliminate the idea of personal ownership or to strike any reference to the first person singular, but legislating the Kingdom of God won't make it come any sooner. By all accounts, communism and capitalism are both failed experiments. One may be the lesser of two evils, but neither are what Jesus seemed to have in mind.

Considering Jesus teachings, modeled in his life and self-giving death, I believe each of us are faced with the daily choice of valuing the community over the personal: "Take up your cross daily..."; "There is no greater love than this, that someone lay down his or her life for a friend"; "as you've done it to the least of these..."; and according to the early church as described in the Acts of the Apostles "And they shared all things in common and gave to any as they had need."

May we each experience the deep personal joy that can only be found in giving ourselves to the community of God.

Day 24

Someone's watching
Who are your spiritual leaders? Who are the people you turn to when you are struggling with the big questions in life? Periodically, I ask people these questions. The list is usually comprised of two equally sized groups: people that are highly visible or in leadership positions and people who hold no office, serve on no committees and aren't likely to have stood up to speak in front of the congregation or even a small group. in the church.

Instead of trying to get those 'stealth' leaders to serve or lead a committee, my goal is two-fold. First is to watch and see what I can learn from them about spiritual leadership. The second is to nurture and support them.

When I tell people in this latter group that others see them as spiritual leaders, their responses vary from surprised, embarrassed, self-effacing and disbelief. Most, immediately launch into a list of reasons why they couldn't be someone's spiritual leader. Authentic humility is one true sign of a spiritual leader.

Like it or not, whether you signed up for it or not, you may be the person that someone or several someone's look to when life starts to spin out of control. Knowing that, may be what helps some of us pay attention to what kind of Christian discipleship we're modeling for others.

You don't have to have a degree, an ability to quote scripture or letters after your name to be someone's spiritual leader. Remember Isaiah's description of God's peaceable kingdom? "The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them."

May each of us model our faith for the world today, and may those watching only see us when we are doing it well, by the grace of God.

Day 23

One Day at a Time (strung together they make up a lifetime)

If you're scratching your head thinking you're technologically challenged or wondering if you've confused your days, rest assured neither are true. OK, they might be true, but that would be independent of the fact that I am just now posting this blog at 10:00 p.m.

Needing to wrap up a plumbing project this morning, I skipped right over my devotional time and jumped into the "orders of the day." Finishing just in time for lunch, I ate, showered and headed into the office where I was determined to take time to read, pray and blog.

Once in the office, I was faced with the reality that I'd not taken time to 'clear the deck' the day before. My office was a testimony to my very full Sunday, caused to be 'overfull' by my plumbing project. I always have trouble being centered in a cluttered room. So, I set about putting things in order, which soon led me to checking email....at six o'clock I grabbed my 40-Day's and ran to get something to eat before coming back for Nikki's choir's concert.

The irony of reading about weakness and liability was not lost on me, as I grabbed a cup of coffee and raced back to church with plans to write my blog (being still and taking time to pray will just have to wait.) You've already figured out, I didn't write at 6:30 or shortly thereafter.

I don't share all this as an excuse, but to be humbly honest about the fact that some days, my best intentions end up providing another layer of asphalt with which to pave. Don't misunderstand, I don't believe self-flagellation is required for falling short in a spiritual discipline. Instead, my failings (large or small) are reminders that the spiritual life is a long journey; one that is best to attend to daily, and best to be measured in years or even decades.

I've met people who despite their words to the contrary want their religious leaders to be perfect or at least well above the 'rest of us.' It's not uncommon for me to hear, "I know I shouldn't put my pastor on a pedestal, but..." That's when I try to gently remind that 'pedestals' are those little stands where idols are kept, and idols will always disappoint us.

Spiritual leaders are not immune from divorce, addiction, depression and burnout. It can and does happen with tragic results for families and congregations. "I know it can happen to anyone. I know they're only human, but I just expect my pastor, priest, rabbi..."

When I've been able to explore these expectations with people, I've discovered that the underlying concern for some people goes something like: "but if it can happen to you, then what does that mean for me?"

It means what all of us already know. We are all 'in the soup together' - all of us striving faithfully toward wholeness in God, none of us immune from becoming the one that causes others to stand back and say, "there but for the grace of God..."

Today, my choices only led to a very late time of solitude and devotion. Tomorrow, will be different. My choices could lead to better or worse consequences. "Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much..." but the inverse is equally true, those who bend on small things, will in time bend on much larger ones.

It's good to be human, God even said so. By God's grace, I get to start over again tomorrow, and so do you. May we each be found faithful in small things.

Day 22

The Doors of Dreams

The most obvious and immediate closed door I thought of happened almost two years ago now. In my eight year at Browns Point UMC, I was completely surprised when the district superintendent called and asked me to think about moving to another church.

I talked it over with Whitney, thought and prayed about it, and the next day called to say "no thank you," just as the "door closed." We were scheduled to meet with a committee from the new church. If there were no insurmountable obstacles, we would be leaving our home and community of eight and half years. Someone had closed and locked the door to the familiar and comfortable place we'd known. For the next three months, I worked through my grief and tried to prepare for the move, but periodically, I'd check to see if someone had accidentally left the door unlocked. No one had.

Looking through my journal at the time, I was reminded of a series of dreams that I had during those three months. Though each was different, they shared a common theme - houses with open doors. The dreams also progressed to more and more openness.

In one of the first dreams, I knocked on the door of an unfamiliar house, but no one answered. For whatever reason, I uncharacteristically tried the door and it opened. I went in where I was met by people who were not surprised to see me. Nor were they surprised that I'd opened the door.

In a later dream, I was walking by a house where I saw someone working their front yard. They'd taken the front door off its hinges and laid it across two saw horses. Looking up from their work, they said, "go on in, take a look around." So, I did.

In one of my last 'door dreams' before the actual move, I had walked up a street I'd known in during my childhood. I noticed a house that had never actually been on that street. Wondering in my dream about where this house had come from, I started up the driveway and as if triggered by my presence, the garage door opened. Instead of cars, bicycles and typical garage items, the door opened to the living spaces of the house (living room, dining room, kitchen...)

A door had closed and no amount of pounding would open it, but new doors were opening: doors where people were waiting for me and doors that opened to reveal a whole 'new life.' I couldn't have known who those people were or what that life would look like, but after two years at Lake Washington UMC in Kirkland, I'm grateful for all of the people who have made those dreams come true.

May each closed door in our life cause us to turn around and see a street-full of doorless, God-filled houses, and may we have the courage to cross the street.

Day 21

"I Am," who am I?

The more I say about God's nature, dwelling, activity and/or name, the more I realize the irony of my saying it. Even using those three letters seems absurd, capitalizing the first as if it were the name of the holy and mysterious, wholly other. The Jews seemed closest to the dilemma, explaining that G-d's name was 'unspeakable' (G-d is the proper printed form among many Jews today, not to avoid writing it, but to avoid it being erased or defaced once it's been written.)

Is there a name that can capture or describe G-d? Given the abundance of names, titles, and activities ascribed to the divine in the Hebrew and Christian scriptures, I'd guess the answer is 'no.'

"Where does G-d dwell?" seems an equally absurd question - as if we were going to mail a letter and needed an address. Here again, there are plenty of locales offered in scripture: the heavens, the heart, the Temple, countless locations where G-d marked by a pile of stones (primarily where G-d intervened on behalf of or against the Israelites.

Yet, week after week, I stand up with much to say about G-d: where G-d is, what G-d's been up to, what G-d intends for us or expects from us... . This is the crux of the irony. How can we keep silent? Yet, what can we say?

I recall a story told about a theologian who'd written volumes explaining the nature and activity of God. After completing it, he had a dream where he was pushing a cart piled his pages up the mountain of God. Eager to show his 'offering' to the divine, he passed the angels and attendants around the throne who laughed at the comparatively infinitesimal work.

In his book, God Laughs and Plays, David James Duncan writes, "It is necessary to define words. It is also at times necessary to undefine them. One of my aims as a writer of faith is apophatic. From the Greek word apophasis. An apophasis is an unsaying. Out of all the words I have heard in my time, "G-d" is in my view the one most grievously abused by humans; the one most deserving of a careful unsaying."

"Who is this 'I Am?' " "Where does G-d dwell?" Perhaps they're the wrong questions. If it's not equally absurd, maybe we should be asking, "Who am I in the presence of this 'I Am?' "

May we hear our names and find our place in the family of all that is created.

Day 20

Paradox number ?? (I think I've lost track...)

The greatest fear and greatest freedom are linked to hearing and speaking those things that cause us shame.
"What will people think if they know..."
It's what keeps an alcoholic hiding their problem, the same way it keeps all of us doing the same. Kept in the dark, our demons feed on our imaginations and grow into untamable monsters.

However, if you have ever felt safe enough to name those demons out loud, you may have discovered how quickly they "shrink in the light."

I have a friend who is the pastor of another United Methodist Church. Several years ago, we agreed to ask each one another a series of questions about where we are struggling with boundaries in our lives (whether or not we'd crossed any.) We rely on one another not only to maintain these boundaries, but to be able to speak aloud those times we may cross them; trusting we will love one another enough to listen and speak truth without judging one another.

Whether in small groups or close spiritual friendships, I have always wished that the church could be a place where we could do this with one another. Perhaps you have these places in or beyond the church. If not, I hope you will work with me to find or create these, for you and for others.

Day 19

The Great and Powerful "I"

Like the "Great and Powerful Oz" the ego will do anything it can to protect itself and hold on to its power. Creating the illusion that it is larger than reality, it hides away behind any curtain of the mind, fearful that it will be found out for what it is a little man pulling levers and switches.

Pursuing the Oz metaphor a bit further, the ego doubles as a travelling con artist that claims to know the past, present and future. However, it relies on self-promotion (Acclaimed by the Crown Heads of Europe) and deception (playing on our emotions by rummaging around in our 'baggage.')

Sometimes it's hard to 'listen' to the voice of one's life (vocation) because the ego is shouting its demeaning comments and fearful threats: "You dare to come to me for a heart, do you? You clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous...." "Do not arouse the wrath of the Great and Powerful Oz! I said 'come back tomorrow!'" But if we listen and trust the voice of vocation, we will hear that we have always had everything we needed to "find our way home."

Even though it lies and tries to bully us into believing we are something we are not, it is part of us - part, not all.

May God give us the courage to stand in the face of our egos until they run out of steam. Then in the stillness, may we hear the voice of God who call us to our true vocation - to come home from the far country.

Day 18

"What do you do?"

It's usually one of the first questions we ask of someone we've just met. It's not unthinkable that knowing someone's 'work' will tell us something about them. However, we'd learn a great deal more about them, if we knew whether they found their work fulfilling, meaningful and life-giving or not.


As I talk with different people, it seems very few 'enjoy' chit-chatting or exchanging superficial pleasantries. Yet, everyone realizes how difficult, if not odd, it would be to dive into deep meaningful conversations with strangers. There are those who can somehow ask the right questions in the most relaxed way.


I often think of a dear friend who could engage complete strangers in meaningful conversations in a matter of minutes. A telemarketer would call, but we would never have guessed by the 20 minute conversation: "Do you they pay you by phone call or commission?.... I'm sure you get alot of rejection. Does that make it hard to do your job?... You probably get to talk to some pretty interesting people though, huh?..."

She was famous for playing what we called the "Mennonite Name Game." Introduced to a Graber, a Weins or a Yoder, she would spend 30 minutes trying to find out what Mennonites they were related to, even if they weren't. It was because she was Mennonite, but she happened to go to a Mennonite College.

Checking out at the grocery store, she would take great interest in the cashier's hair. With admiration, if not envy, she'd launch into an atypical conversation: "How do you get your hair to stand up like that? Do you use hairspray or gel? Are you growing it out?"

Instead of odd looks or embarrassment, these strangers often eased into the conversation as if they'd been old friends. It wasn't the questions she chose, but that she was truly interested in who these people were, how they moved through the world and how they felt about their lives.

"What do you do?" isn't such a bad question, but it's a real gift when someone is truly interested in finding out 'who are you?'

In your encounters with strangers today, may you be blessed by one who wants to know who you are, and may you bless others as you move beyond the question, "what do you do?"

Day 17

In the press

The paradox of 'solitude in community' reminds me of the two healing stories at the end of the fifth chapter of Mark's gospel.

Having been approached by Jairus, a leader in the synagogue, Jesus responded to his request by going with Jairus to heal his daughter. On their way, "a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him...She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak...Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease.

Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?” And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, ‘Who touched me?’”...

He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader’s house to say, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?” But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, “Do not fear, only believe.”

Throughout the story, Jesus seems fully aware of himself and his connection to others (we might also say the same of the woman.) Jairus, the hemorrhagic woman and probably many in the crowd knew Jesus had some kind of power. Knowing something of his own 'power,' Jesus could have isolated himself or reserved it for his own benefit. Instead, he put himself in the midst of the crowds, because he knew of their deep need and his deep connection to them.

Solitude makes us aware of the power within us. Community makes us aware of the deep needs of the world. When we are able to hold the two together, God can use us to heal and transform the world.

May you find the courage to know yourself, and the grace to be touched by a community in need.

Day 16

What A Wonderful World

In case you missed it, "the Secret" is out. A few years ago, someone told the secret of the universe (which I think ended up making them alot of money.) Many, many enthusiastic people came encouraging me to watch the video. Some of them were more energized than I'd ever seen them before. I would have described them as evangelical (one who shares good news) if I knew they wouldn't think I was criticising them.

If you've not seen it, the movie opens with testimonials from renowned scientists, religious practitioners and others who espouse the miraculous truth and power of 'the secret.' I have to admit, I didn't get all the way through it, but I watched enough to get the gist of it: "the universe" wants to give you what you want, or at least "what you put out there."

If it sounds vaguely familiar, you may have heard it in some other version:

• "You get out of it what you put into it."
• "Life is what you make it."
• "If you believe you can or if you believe you can't, you're probably right."
• "Be the change you want to see in the world."
• "Judge not, lest ye be judged."
• or as Parker put it, "we cocreate the reality in which we live."

I probably should have watched the whole movie, but I got stuck when someone gave their testimony about how "the Secret" had changed his life for the better. Some years after 'putting out' what he wanted most, he was unpacking in his luxurious new home, when he came across a posterboard collage that he'd made a few years previously. On it was the house and several other images of the possessions and lifestyle he was now living.

What "kind of reality do you do you desire for yourself and others?" This I think is what stopped me short of finishing the movie. It seemed singularly focused on what the universe wants to give me. To focus one what I want without regard for others, it struck me that I'd be putting greed, selfishness or self-centeredness out there in the universe. I'm sure there's enough of that out there already. I'm also sure I don't want to get any of it back from the universe.

When I think about the reality I desire for myself and others, I think less of external things and lifestyles and more about inner states of being: satisfaction, contentment, simplicity, compassion, generosity, hopefulness, joy... Reiterating that it's a lifelong journey, it's my hope that's I am putting those things out in the universe, being those things that I want to see in the world or cocreating such a reality for everyone.

May our desire for the world be the love and peace Christ taught and lived, and may our enthusiasm for it be so contagious that everyone would know our secret.

Day 15

Cancers & Demons
To name a few:

• prejudice
• apathy
• chosen ignorance
• deterministic thinking (e.g. "It's beyond my control...")
• shame
• greed
• lust
• unproductive worry
• hopelessness
• uncontrollable anger
• self-pity

The inner strenghts and external forces of reform:

• humility
• self-reflection
• remembering and being reminded that I am a child of God
• honesty
• the practice of forgiveness
• people who are willing to hold me accountable
• those who model integrity in their lives

May we be forces of reform for one another's soul.

Day 14

Either/or and both

During seminary, I was immersed in a sea of new ideas, concepts and ways to think (methods not ideology.) Sometime during the end of my first year or the beginning of my second, I threw out the proverbial baby with the bathwater. I rejected everything the church, Sunday school and my family had taught me about God.

My family and church community lamented, "we knew that would happen if you went to one of those liberal seminaries." The 'fault', however, couldn't be laid at the feet of my liberal professors. Nor could the church or my family be blamed for my 'chucking it all.'

At fault was my intolerance for paradox. Somewhere along the way, I'd bought into the notion that there was only one answer. You were either right or wrong. Everything was either black or white, true or false, yes or no. If my professors were right (and some of them seemed quite convinced they were,) then all my previous teachers must have been wrong. It was, essentially the same message I continued to hear from my family and church community, "liberal seminaries take away your faith" (i.e. they are wrong, we are right.)

I've since spent a few years walking around under the window, looking for "the baby;" reconciling the truth of my adolescence with the truth of my seminary years. Sometimes those two truths are in tension, standing on opposite sides of my mind. At times I'm tempted to evict one or the other (or both,) I've come to appreciate the tension as part of my "inner teacher."

I don't think the threat to an individual or an "organized community of faith" is an "inner teacher" as much as it is their unwillingness to embrace paradox. "This is what we believe," does not have to mean, if you don't believe the same thing, you are: wrong, a sinner, a heretic, an enemy.... Doctrine, theology, collective belief systems and the like are partners in the journey, not gods to be worshipped.

The tension of paradox cannot survive long in an either/or belief system, which may be why so many mystics were declared heretics. That's how it is when we cannot believe that there are at least three truths: my truth, your truth and the Truth.

May your heart be courageous enough to let your mind be open enough to hold your truth and "my truth," and may the tension of two show you the Truth.

Day 13

One day at a time
The quick fix is surely an epidemic in our culture. A quick online query yielded: lose 18 pounds in 4 days, 12 days to dynamic health, 30 days to a younger you, 30 days to a happy employee, 40 days to success in real estate investing, and 42 days to wealth, health and happiness.
The last option seems to be the package plan. You can be healthy in 12 days, happy in 30 days and wealthy in 40, but if you bundle them, you can do it all for a bargain - 42 days.

I'm not an economist, but if we can believe what some of them are saying about the causes that led to our current situation, getting rich quick seems to be part of the problem. After all, who wants to get rich slowly, if you can get rich quickly?
Likewise, who wants to have an undivided life that takes a lifetime, if there's an option to have it today?

Haven't we learned that diet pills and quick fix fads are at best, an illusion and at worst, dangerous? Isn't it also true of get quick rich schemes and day trading? It's even true of our religious pursuits. I've known people who start praying or meditating but give it up after a couple of weeks because, "I don't think anything's happening."

Like weight gain and weight loss or even the economy, if it took us awhile to get to our current unhealthy condition, it will probalby take as long to get back. And when it comes to a speedy spiritual quest, one look at the lives of saints, mystics and biblical heroes, yields no formulas for a fast fix. If anything, most hint at a trajectory longer than their own lives.

Could there be a quick solution toward an undivided life? Even if we could live an undivided life today, we'd have to choose to do so again tomorrow, and the day after... Maybe if we string enough of those together, we'll end up with an undivided life.

I believe it's equally true of the church. When a congregation has grown unhealthy due to conflict or neglect, it will take an equal amount of time to regain it's previous health. On the surface, it may seem like everything's back to normal, but it will take time to unlearn unhealthy patterns, to heal wounds and grudges that have been nursed over time and to regain trust. Gratefully, I find the church is full of people willing to take the long view toward wholeness for the life of the church and their own lives.

I don't know that it's possible to identify any large faith community as a "circle of trust," but I do find many "circles of trust" within our faith community. The more circles there are, the more solitude in community we may create for the journey.

May our embrace of solitude bring us back to the circles of trust in our community, and may our own journey toward wholeness bring wholeness to our community of faith.


Note: I've been feeling it, but between Day 12's post and today's reading, I feel like I'm writing a day ahead of my reading. It may even seem that way, but I'm not actually reading ahead. I suspect I'm overly familiar with Parker's writing and work. So, I may be anticipating the next day's writings.

Day 12

God's Mirrors

To "tell the truth" is a tricky thing. Whose truth am I asking for? Their truth will not be my truth, and whether I am living a divided life or not, how will they know my truth.

The greatest truth telling I've experienced has been in what Parker Palmer calls, "Circles of Trust." These circles have included 4 or 5 people who have patiently listened to me as I struggled with some question or issue in my life.

They did not correct or advise me. They did not try to fix me or my problem. They didn't try to give me an answer. They simply sat with me, waiting with me, sometimes during long silences. They gave me the space to let my soul speak its own truth, whether either of us recognized it at the time or not.

When we ended the cirlce, having paid close attention, they told me what they heard and what they saw without judgment, without commentary and without interpretation. It may sound like the caricatured parroting we've heard in so many workshops about 'active listening:' "what I hear you saying is...;" "when you said...did you mean..."

This reporting back is usually as detailed as possible, including body posture and voice tone: "when you said...you leaned foward and your voice softened." Again, it is given without such interpretations as, "you raised your voice, as if you were angry."

I've been on the outside and the inside of these circles, and both have been some of the most profoundly sacred times of my life. On the outside, I have been blessed by the trust to hear and witness someone else's journey. On the inside, I have heard the most profound truth about my life, truth I did not hear even as I spoke it.

A few years ago, I participated as the "focus person" of a circle. At the end, someone repeated back to me a phrase that has stuck with me ever since. I had been talking about choices in life, and how we trick ourselves into thinking we don't have choices by saying things like, 'well, I have to go to work,' or 'I have to have a job...' but we do have choices, we don't have to have a job. Sure there will be consequences.

It was then that I said, "I tell myself, I don't have a choice, I have to show up on Sunday mornings, but the truth is, I don't...." and I went on. It wasn't until someone repeated those exact words back to me that I heard my soul speak the truth about my role. "I have a choice. I don't have to show up." I may be there in body, but have I kept my soul and role undivided? Will I choose to show up?

May we all be graced to have someone who will hold us in the silence, people who will listen with open ears and open hearts, people who will hold God's mirror for our souls to see ourselves clearly, and may we all be open to hear the truth and have the courage to "show up" for life.

Day 11

The Preaching Life

One of the most effective ways I know to keep my soul and role intact, is to speak honestly about the struggle and temptations that lead to their separation. Indeed, "confession is good for the soul."

As public as it is, the pulpit can feel like the lonliest place in the church.As strange as it may sound, I have been most tempted in pastoral ministry to "disappear into my role" as "the preacher." It is incredibly seductive to be the kind of preacher that people want, to tell them what they want to hear, and to do it in a way that is 'easy on the ear.'

Compliments and affirmations at the back of the church on Sunday morning can become addictive, and unfortunately, there are no recovery groups for pastors who've become "approval addicts."

Mind you, the congregation can't be blamed for the addiction. They may enable it, but it is the preacher who must choose whether or not to swallow the sweet phrases.

I'm aware how ungrateful this may sound. I am incredibly grateful, and I believe the intent is to convey loving appreciation. The danger for the preacher is the delivery. Fed a diet of "you are the best preacher," "that was a great sermon," "you are so funny..." the preacher may begin to beleive those are the truest words ever spoken. An insatiable craving is likely to develop, and soon the soul gives way to the role most likely to feed the preacher's cravings.

I am not naive or vain enough to believe that preachers are the only people at risk. In fact, I've caught myself saying:

• "You're a great father."
• "That was the best anthem!"
• "You're the most compassionate person I've ever met..."

On the rare occasion that I can think before I speak, or even those times when I've heard the words I didn't intend, I try to say what I really mean:

• "When I watch you with your children, I remember how my Dad could make me feel so safe."
• "While I listened to you sing, I suddenly experienced the presence of God."
• "When I see how you give yourself to others, I can see parts of myself I'd like to change."

Don't worry, if you tell me I'm "a good preacher," I won't hold it against you, but I'll try not to hold on to the words too long either. And if I hear it too much, there are several people within and beyond the congregation, I count on to hold me accountable and give me a space to remember who I am.

I pray that as I preach, I will let my soul be fully present in the role. Should our souls meet in that space between the words, I hope and trust the Spirit will honor our meeting.

Blogging Sabbath

Even blogs need a sabbath. As I mentioned last week, Sundays are not counted among the forty days of Lent. So, there's no 'assigned' reading or post today. If you need to keep up the discipline, you may want to rearead one of the previous days readings.

I've discovered that each day's reading has an abundance of thought provoking material on which to think and pray. May your Sunday dispel any myth of scarcity.

Day 10

Undividing = multiplication

For years, I could not understand what my peers in seminary were so enthralled about in Parker Palmer's writings. I tried several of his books at different points in my life, each time scratching my head in wonder and setting them aside again.

In the fall of my 40th year on this planet, I experienced what I could only describe as a full-blown mid-life crisis. I had been counseling a couple who were wonderful people individually, but together they had begun to destroy one another and their marriage.

In the midst of that, I attended the deaths of two parishioners on one day, followed closely by both memorial services which I 'celebrated' on the following Saturday.

I called my long-time pastoral counselor to refer the husband of the couple. In my message, I casually said, "it's been awhile since we've met, maybe I can stop in."

Thursday following the memorial services, I sat down in my pastoral counselor's office and began, "I just thought we could get together. I wanted to see how you're doing."

"Sure, but first tell me what you've been up to lately," he said.

"I really haven't had much going on," which I really meant at the moment. An hour later, I had described one of the past six months as the most dramatic internal changes in my life. He had not said a word, not asked a single question.

One of the many things Doug invited me to do was to pick up Parker Palmer's book Hidden Wholeness: The Guide to an Undivided Life. I did, and this time, I got it! I was at a point where I was living such a divided life, I couldn't even recognize how much was going on within and around me.

As I began to journey toward an "undivided life," I experienced great resistance from some people around me. At one point, one person came to me and said, "you really shouldn't express your feelings so openly. You should keep some things to yourself."

I'm learning that the journey takes a lifetime, and if you can find a few people who will listen with you, life grows exponentially.

May God lead us to the right people at the right time, that our lives may be whole as God intends.

Day 8 (oops - make then 9)

Deep Listening

For most of my life, I struggled with prayer. How should I pray? What should I pray for? What should I say? How long should I pray? Is one posture better than another?

A few years ago, I began to 'understand' that my questions were getting in the way. In fact, they were focusing on the wrong end of prayer. I was working too hard. Instead of focusing on myself, I 'worked' on letting go of myself, letting go of everything. Ironically, 'work' is exactly the opposite of what was required.

Instead, to be able to move into a space of silence and solitude, requires nothing. There is no work to it. There is nothing involved but letting go.

When Paul talks about praying without ceasing, the word he uses can be translated as 'rest' or 'recline.' To rest in God without ceasing does not require anything of us. But it's so counter intuitive. It seems like there should be some great effort, some movement on our part. Instead, it's as simple as letting go of everything and free falling into the presence of God. That 'simple' act is still the most challenging anti-task of faith for me.

May each of us find the courage to stop, to let go and do nothing. May we simply 'be' in the presence of God, nothing more...nothing less.

Day 8

Satisfied Mind

Parish ministry crosses all class lines. Paradoxically, one of the tragic blessings is that I am invited to be an eye witness of the Gospel truths about wealth and possessions. It is not an absolute, but those with fewer possessions and less wealth are the ones most likely to share with others. And while they are not without there share of problems, they often seem less stressed, less fearful and more satisfied with life.

Inversely, I've watched the some of wealthiest people live such tiny fearful lives, as they try to hold on to and protect what they believe is theirs to possess. When life brings them painful events, they find that the gates and locks and security systems they've installed are working perfectly - no one can get in or they gave up trying long ago. The abundance of possessions and wealth that they've accumulated bring them no comfort.

I've often mused about how many different singers have a version of the Rhodes & Hayes song, Satisfied Mind. Maybe they are trying to remind or convince themselves of that very true refrain: "...it's so hard to find one rich man in ten with a satisfied mind."

Regrettably, I've witnessed the truth of "grasping brings less, and letting go brings more." I suppose we can never receive all the blessings and grace God has to give us if our hands are busy gripping our possessions.

May we learn to open our hands to receive God's abundance, and may we not even notice all the things that fall from them when we do.

Day 7

Who Am I?

I can't say that I define my self only differences or similarities. I'm sure I compare myself to others all day long, sometimes conciously, sometimes not: "He reminds me of me when I was that age." "I just finished reading that book." "I'm glad I don't have to deal with the stress of his job." "I wish we could landscape our yard that way."

Sometimes the things I have in common with others makes it easy and comfortable to be around them. Other times, I'm drawn to others by a sense of wonder and curiousity because we are different in so many ways. Alternately, I sometimes distance myself becasue of the similitaries or differences.

These similarities and differences are typically superficial, external and/or measurable. However, when I am able to slow down, be with people and practice deep listening, I remember some things are common to all of us. I believe we all want to know we are loved and inversely we fear that we are unlovable. I believe we yearn to live a life of purpose and meaning. I believe there is a hole within each of us that cannot be filled by anything other than that unnameable, unknowable, mysterious Other, we happen to call 'God.'

Lacking discipline on my day off

I just realized at noon, that I have not done today's reading or posted to the blog. It will be here, but not immediately...I have a date with my 5 year old at the library.
Stay tuned.

Day 6

One or more

John Wesley instituted his "class meetings" in America in part because he believed it was incredibly difficult to follow Christ faithfully if you did not have the support and accountability found in community. He instructed them to meet weekly and ask the same questions of accountability. The practice seemed so methodical to outsiders, those in attendance became known as "Methodists."

Why so methodical? To paraphrase Wesley, "that we might not make a shipwreck of our faith."

Would it be easier to repudiate the scarcity assumption as an individual or as a member of a like-minded community? For me, the answer is as simple as it is complex.

As an individual, I struggle against my baser instincts on a regular basis. I strive to be decent, good and compassionate, but I fail regulalry. I have been more "successful" at times, specifically when I've been a part of small 'covenant groups' that agree to hold one another accountable for our faith and actions by asking each other weekly, "what acts of compassion, justice, devotion and worship did you do this week?" and "How is it with your soul?"

However, I have been part of like-minded communities (a term I reserve for larger groups) that do not encourage my growth as a disciple of Christ. The difference of course is how the group or community is "like-minded."

I've been part of churches, and "communities" within them, whose like-mindedness has led them further from the gospel. Stories abound about churches that were so fearful, they gradually began sharing less and less in the community: churches who keep their doors locked during 'office hours,' as a safety precaution; churches who made so many rules about how mission money could be spent, they ended up spending it on themselves. Many of those churches are still around, they are trendy restaurants and antique shops.

May our fear never govern our faith, and may we always be blessed to have at least one individual who will not let us become fearfully like-minded.

Day 5

Surprised by joy!

Instead of fun, I think of joy or even playfulness. It may be a result of exactly what Parker is talking about, but 'fun' makes me think of something you have to create or plan or have. Isn't that what we say, "I had fun." "What would you like to do for fun today?"

Joy and playfulness come from within. Maybe fruits of the Spirit grow from seeds that are planted within the human spirit. Joy is often surprising. It pops up in strange places, sometimes when we don't expect it. I've been with people in the midst of grief, and suddenly a joy bubbles up from some hidden spring. Fun doesn't quite capture it. Perhaps fun has become a commodity because we are disconnected from joy. So, we pay someone to make some fun for us, to entertain us, all the while we may still be completely joy-less.

A better question may be, 'how do we nurture those seeds of joy?' Is there some currency in the equation: awareness? attitude? curiosity? tenderness? grace? the speed of life?

There were many moments in both worship services yesterday, when joy bubbled up within me. No one planned them, least of all me. If there was any planning, it was only that I may have been prepared to experience them, that is open, receptive or willing.

One of my those moments came when one of my children shared their own moment of joy. As I tucked him in, I asked him what his favorite part of the Crosswalk service was. Given his 'addiction' to 'screen time' I figured he'd say the video clips. Instead, he answered, "I liked the last song about the river" (a song in which Tracie Broughton plays a lively flute part.) He went on to say, "it made me so happy, I almost started to laugh." (If you attended the service, this was not said by my dancing partner.)

As the credit card company correctly states, the joy I experienced hearing his words were priceless. Unlike their marketing pitch though, I didn't have to slap down my plastic to create the environment for either of us.
May your day be filled with tiny moments of surprising joy!