Mourning 2016 and Hope for 2017

This year has been tough. We have lost a lot and in that grief we mourn.

I mourn the passing of too many from wars and violence.
I mourn the death of old and young from addiction and illness.
I mourn that too many have been lost to racism and classism.
I mourn that we cannot see ourselves in immigrants and refugees.
I mourn the death of way too many from terrorism and hate.
I mourn that too many families spent these holidays without those they love.
I mourn that misogyny continues to be so prevalent.
I mourn the passing of democracy from foreign tampering.
I mourn the lack of safe water for families in Flint.
I mourn that too many have been denied their basic human rights.

I mourn that common decency and compassion seem lost.
I mourn that we never seemed to care for Aleppo's children.
I mourn that the end of racism hasn't happened yet.
I mourn that too many have been left behind.

But I also have hope ...

That we will care for each other more than our own needs.
That we will honor all families and their wonderful diversity.
That we will support one another in our different faiths.
That we will show kindness to all persons we meet.
That we will bring about the kindom of God through love.
That we will find the light every day and share it.
That we will reach out in grace to those different from us.
That we will refuse to normalize misogyny and racism.
That we will work together to bring about justice.
That we will spend our energy on mercy and not hate.
That we will include refugees and immigrants more fully into our world.
That we will share our faith boldly with others on the journey.

That we will welcome the stranger into our families and lives.
That we will love and love and love each other.
That we will find more hope in each other than hate.
That we will live out Micah 6:8 to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly.

I have hope. We're in this together. And together we can bring hope to others.

Robben Island - South Africa Trip

The boat ride to Robben Island took 40 minutes. We saw a couple of whale fins and lots of birds. The view of Table Mountain on the boat over was obscured by dense fog. Seabirds dipped and frolicked on the waves. Kids chatted excitedly with their parents and siblings along the way.

We had talked about what we would see, read about the apartheid era, and learned about the prison itself in preparation for our trip. But nothing prepares you for your arrival on the island, walking through the front gates, and being led through the story of political imprisonment by a former prisoner of Robben Island. Our guide was named Sparks. But during his seven years of confinement, he was only called by his prisoner number, 5683.

Nelson Mandela was prisoner 46664. He was the 466th prisoner to be imprisoned in 1964. For 27 years his name was not spoken by the prison authorities. His cell was 2x3 meters. He had no socks, shoes, or coat. He had a T-shirt and shorts. Summer, winter, rain, wind - did not matter - black prisoners were given nothing more.

I sat under the grape arbor where Mandela wrote and hid his manuscript for The Long Walk to Freedom. It was such a surreal moment. I am still processing it.

We went through the prison and heard the stories of apartheid era political prisoners from an insider’s perspective. Beatings, solitary confinement, and 30-day porridge rations were the punishments of choice. Hearing Sparks tell this story was even more than I can describe.

Walking by and photographing Nelson Mandela’s cell was one of the most profoundly moving experiences of my life. I cannot imagine surviving 27 years in that place, with those restrictions, and with that kind of resiliency.

We stopped at the limestone quarry where Mandela and others worked. We saw the stack of stones placed in remembrance of the 38 men who lost their lives in that quarry and saw the cave where he wrote and talked about his manuscript during his lunch breaks.

Coming home was one of the roughest boat rides I have ever been on. The boat tossed and turned, crested and dipped. But being on the rough water was still a sign that I was able to leave the island when I chose. I have never lived in the kind of fear, terror, isolation, and oppression that Mandela and many others lived with in South Africa and that many continue to live with today in the US and elsewhere. This is due to my privilege. as a well educated, white, American woman. Today was a stark reminder of that privilege and the work we still have to do.

It is indeed a Long Walk to Freedom.

Finding Me Again

 

Busy, busy, busy. It's our religion almost. We kneel at the altar of busyness. We pray to the calendar gods.

We sing the songs of schedule. We sit in the anxiety of too much to do and too little time to do it.

Because of this reality, there are so many things that get in the way of taking care of ourselves – work, spouse, family, house/home, TV watching, paying bills, social media, laziness, busyness, paperwork, denial, etc. With all of this to do -- we too often put our own needs in last place. We take care of others, we take care of our loved ones, we take care of our homes, we take care of our work, and we take care of our financial obligations – but we leave ourselves and our personal needs out of the equation.

It’s a problem for many in our culture today. We have placed the needs of everyone and everything else above our own.

It happens to people in every profession and life circumstance. It happens in the lives of clergy and religious leaders, a group I am part of and work with, way too often.

And it especially happens in the lives of women. We are expected by outside forces to always put others before ourselves. It affects us emotionally, spiritually, and physically.

I allowed it to happen to myself. Even though I teach about self-care – especially for women and clergy – I allowed my own life to spiral into one that did not focus on my own health, body, spirit, and emotions.

For decades I have dealt with a weight issue. I started putting on weight after high school. I had seriously injured my knee and my ability to be more active dried up. I went to college and put on the freshman 15 like almost everyone else.

Then I got into a bad cycle. My knee hurt so I did not exercise. I did not exercise so I put on weight. Putting on weight had an adverse effect on my knees. Because of the pain and inactivity I was in a negative spiral that I felt helpless to control or to change.

When I turned 50 I came to realize that I was over 100 pounds overweight, had two bad knees, was on several prescription meds, and was living a very inactive lifestyle. However, I was – by all accounts – a happy and highly productive person. I had a great job, fabulous friends, and an amazing family. If anyone asked if I was happy – my answer was emphatic, “Of course, I am. I have everything I need to give me joy.”

But deep down I now know that I was suffering. I got looks from others insinuating that I must be “fat because I’m lazy.” I endured the glances when I entered the aisle of a plane for travel that told me what they were thinking, “I hope she’s not sitting beside me.” And I heard the soft whispers when I went into stores that did not accommodate my size when I was purchasing a gift for someone else.

It was hard – but I pretended it wasn’t happening. I refused to hear the voices of others and the ones in my head telling me that this was not a good way to live. I ignored the cry of my body to be honorable to it. And I continued to claim that I was happy. I guess that I was convinced that I was "happy enough" and that was all I deserved.

Then I had an experience that brought me to my knees. I was too big to ride an amusement park ride with my son and I sat there weeping while he rode it without me. It was too much. I could not bear to miss another moment with my family due to my inactivity, weight, and lack of mobility. I deserved better.

So I asked for help. I went to my doctor, got a nutritionist, and hired a personal trainer. I created a team of encouragers, supporters, experts, and guides for the journey. And I changed my life. Over the past year I have lost 100+ pounds, I have changed how and what I eat, and I have embraced the reality that I deserve a fuller life. I have begun exercising regularly and I have done everything I can to turn my life around. I have utilized every avenue available for me to use to change my life.

And in the process I found me again.

I found the me that has energy to live life to the fullest. I found the me that wakes up excited about the day. I found the me that honors the gift of life God has blessed me with as a healthier, happier person. I found the me that could do things again and not be limited by my knees or my weight.

I had ignored the symptoms and the signs. I did not see it. But as I lost weight and began to live more fully – I discovered that part of me had actually gone missing as I put on the weight.

Miraculously and thankfully, I have found me again.

I find that my connection to my work is deeper and more fulfilling. I find that I am closer to my family and able to do more things with them. I find that I am more confident than ever before. I find that my faith is deeper as I live into a life that honors more faithfully who God calls me to be. And I have found a level of joy that makes me feel so blessed and happy.

So why am I telling you this? I'm not telling you this to make anyone feel badly about their own journey with weight or self-care or anything else. I’m not telling you this to judge your life or say that you need to do what I have done. I’m not telling you to in any way make you feel less than a precious child of God that you are.

I'm telling you this because it has been an amazing journey and I feel compelled to share it. I’m telling you this because I refuse to get into this place of denial again. I’m telling you because I want you to live into your best self – whatever that means for you. And I’m telling you this because I care about your journey as well.

My journey to fully find me and be all that God intends for me continues. But right now I can truly and absolutely say, with no reservations or denial, that I am really happy. And I can say that I am living a life that gives me abundant joy.

I celebrate with you if you have found this and are living a life of happiness and joy where you are right now.

And for those of you still struggling to find you or to find that happiness and joy - I pray for you to find it for today and always.

God bless.

Being Set Adrift for God

(I have taken a break from blogging for a while but several events lately led me to post this and get back into the task of blogging.)

I am not afraid to admit that I like control. I don’t like other people controlling me or telling me what to do. I never have liked it (just ask my Mom or Dad).  Despite life requiring that I allow others to lead in many situations, I enjoy having elements of control over my own life. In the midst of chaos I like to exert as much control over the situation as I can - so that the chaos begins to ease as much as possible. I don’t think that I am alone in this. Most of us like control. It’s human to want things to be fixed and static but life often does not work that way.

Trying to exert control in times of discernment and reflection can be even harder. Following where God leads us in our lives can be a scary and intimidating process. Exerting control in those circumstances is often problematic. Giving up control to God is hard for many of us, but we feel like it should be done and should be easier. It’s often not.

I work with seminary students (folks preparing for pastoral ministry in some form) and often meet with them to talk about their ministry and life discernment process. I also have the opportunity to talk with quite a few prospective students who are still trying to determine what God is calling them to do and be in their lives and any potential ministry. I have come across a number of persons who denied their call for decades because they did not or could not give in to the discernment process and acknowledge their call into pastoral ministry or some other discernment issue in their lives. Giving up control and allowing God to lead is indeed hard – despite how faithful one is.

Recently, a guest lecturer was preaching in our chapel. She shared an ancient Celtic tradition of setting sail in a rudderless boat, relying on the wind of the Holy Spirit to guide you as you discerned who God was leading you to be and where God was sending you to share that state of being. As she explained the process, I came to understand that one who is discerning their life direction embarks on a journey to see where God is directing them by being set adrift to catch the winds of the Spirit – with no way to pilot the boat themselves.

Canoe set Adrift by Poucher

The image was both refreshing and terrifying at the same time. It was a refreshing image to contemplate. Being set adrift to go where God directs us is powerful. Giving into the will of God is a profound thing that can set a person free from the bonds that are keeping them from fully being who they are called to be. Giving into the breath of God and go where the wind takes you opens up potential ministry and life experiences that no one could ever imagine on their own. Being able to launch yourself on that kind of adventure would take a lot of fortitude and guts.

That’s where the scary part comes in – letting go of your own need for control and to actually stop trying to control the boat is important. The very fact that the boat is rudderless means there is no directing the boat on your own. Of course, left to my own devices, I could probably use my hands or feet to push/pull/navigate the boat. And I would likely want to do just that. But that’s not what we are called to do in discernment.

The task is to stop trying to control things. We are called to let the Spirit lead and to go where God directs us.

And that’s tricky. The easy thing is to say to ourselves or others, “Just have faith.” But the reality is that letting go is against our human nature. That means even having faith is not all that we need to get us to let go. We have to “own up” to our reluctance to give up control and allow God to blow us where God will. And we need to acknowledge that it is not the easiest thing for us to do. We should not beat ourselves up about this when we fail and try to steer some of the way.

Discernment is tough. So is living into the will of God. But we are called to live into this anyway – to find a way. Being honest and working through the discernment process patiently is paramount. Give yourself some grace when it’s not easy. And try paddling as little as possible when you are in that rudderless boat.

It’s ok. God loves us anyway – even when we fail. And the Spirit will continue to blow to guide us even when it is harder to let it guide us.

Let’s make this promise to each other and to God – we’ll keep our hands and feet inside the rudderless vehicle as much as we can and enjoy the ride.

Faith in Baseball? Tougher with A-Rod and PEDs

I believe in God. I am a follower of Jesus. I am a Christian whose faith is a big part of her life. I have had moments when I felt so close to God in my faith journey. And I have felt very far away. In those situations, it was me who moved away from God. I know God has never left me alone and is a consistent source of comfort and strength for me. That consistency has been important for me. And I learned about faith and consistency in an odd way.

I am a longtime fan of baseball. I love watching little kids playing t-ball in the park. I love watching multiple types of players – strong hitters, defensive players, and powerful pitchers. I love sitting in the stands and hearing the roar of the crowd, watching the hotdogs and peanuts being sold by creative vendors, smelling the grass, and listening to the sound of the bat hitting a ball and the crowd responding.

I love the statistics and the day in and day out expectancy of the lineup cards and rotation of the pitchers. The first time I walked in a Major League Baseball stadium, I knew God was a baseball fan – the consistency of numbers, the green of the grass, the crystal blue sky, and the love of the game from the players – it felt like home for me. And it made me feel closer to God during a time in my life when I was really feeling lost and was experiencing a crisis of faith.

I was unsure of my life and the direction it was taking. I had moved away from God in many ways and needed some kind of assurance. And I found baseball again. One of the things I love about baseball is that there are so many known quantities in baseball. The diamond is the exact same size in every major league ballpark. The bases are 90 feet apart from one another around the diamond. The pitcher’s mound is 60 feet and 6 inches from home plate. There are 137 feet from first base to third plate – and the same from home plate to second base. It is consistent.

Baseball is a yearlong passion with numbers for me. I have a countdown clock every winter for the beginning of Spring Training. I watch the box scores daily and catch games as often as I can. I sweat out the April and May hitting slumps and the dog days of summer when my team has tons of injuries to deal with. I live for October and the playoffs. Numbers make all the difference. I have faith in them.

Batting averages and pitch counts are determined by facts, formulas and math. Statistics for on base percentage and earned run averages help the fan know how a player is doing. The way numbers are created is basically the same as it always has been. You can compare – to some extent – the batting average of Miguel Cabrera or Chris “Crash” Davis with Cal Ripken or Hank Aaron. You can compare fielding percentages of a current player with a Hall of Famer. You can trust it. You can have faith in the numbers, I thought.

I took a pilgrimage to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY a few years ago and felt as if I was in heaven. I saw some of the displays of the great players of all time and nearly melted in their presence. It was stunning to be in that place. But it also made me wonder about the men and women in that place. They are all human and all did everything they could to make it in the game. Some made mistakes and some presumably took short cuts.

I am a faithful person and I want to pass on my faith to my son. I want to transmit what is important to me to my son as well. He played baseball when he was younger but did not get bit by the bug. He does love to go to baseball games and had a huge Derek Jeter fathead poster in his room for years. He has favorite players and so do I.

Faith in God - despite being rocky at times - is an important part of my journey. I was raised in the church and in a home that was clearly faith-based. I had tough times, but I still have faith. Faith in baseball, however, is getting harder and harder. Faith is defined in Dictionary.com as a system of faith, belief that is not based on proof, and confidence and trust in a person or thing.

That last one touched me lately as I hear more and more about the continued issue in baseball with performance-enhancing drugs. PEDs are a huge issue in sports. Basically every professional sport in the nation, colleges and universities engaged in the NCAA, Olympic sports, and even some high school teams utilize drug testing on a regular basis to ferret out the abuses of PEDs.

The effect of PEDs on players and fans is that we cannot trust them anymore. I don’t have faith in many of the numbers anymore. I watched with others during the homerun onslaught between Mark McGuire and Sammy Sosa and knew it was due to juicing and was so disappointed and disgusted.

I watched as Ryan Braun,  the 2011 National League MVP from the Milwaukee Brewers, accepted his punishment for PED usage and was suspended 65 games – effectively ending his season. Again, my faith in baseball was strained.

And now we are faced with the suspensions and possible bans coming down on some big name players. Multiple names have been linked to a PED distributor called Biogenesis. Alex Rodriquez, A-Rod, a polarizing player to say the least, is facing a possible ban from baseball or a multi-year suspension according to many sources. Other players will probably have their seasons ended due to punishments to be handed down from Major League Baseball. And they all deserve it. They broke the rules and broke the fan’s trust.

So my faith in baseball is rocked.  My trust and confidence in the humans who play this game – and make millions of dollars for hitting, catching, throwing and pitching a baseball – has lessened.

But my faith in people has kind of always been an issue. I have what I call a high doctrine of humanity. That means I expect the best out of people. I expect people to do the right things. I expect them to carry out what they say they will do. Having a high doctrine of humanity means I often get disappointed. But I still expect the best.

Baseball has often been a redeeming thing in my life. But no one is perfect and humans are humans. They make mistakes. I expect better but they sometimes do bad things. The stakes are high in major league sports. Players have a limited life span for making money and getting endorsements to set them up for life financially. Making short cuts happens all the time.

I don’t want that to be part of the legacy that I pass on to my son. I want him to have my high doctrine of humanity. I want him to have my love of baseball. And I want him to have faith in the world. But I also want him to know that having faith in people will sometimes let him down.

I will keep on watching baseball. And I will keep on having faith in things bigger than I am – including my faith and trust in God. I will keep on going to the cathedrals of baseball and sit in awe because it was baseball that brought me back to faith. But I also will not completely trust the numbers when they are out of the norm. And that makes me sad – for my son and for baseball.

Resistance is Futile ... A Commentary on Luke 9: 51-62

This is the commentary I did for Odyssey Network and Huffington Post: Religion today:

In the Methodist tradition in which I was I raised, there is a concept of perfection. We “strive for perfection” in loving each other and loving God. It is not about avoiding all mistakes. It is about growing in love for neighbor and being hospitable to all we come in contact with. This is the point of our theology: as we grow in faith and love, we become closer to God. In the end, resisting God’s call to love others is pretty hard to do.

And yet we know not everyone we meet is irresistible. We all have moments when some folks are harder to love than others. Sometimes those we find difficult to love are members of our own families. Other times they are friends we’ve had a conflict with. And for some of us, they are hard to love simply because of whom the other person loves.

A highly anticipated and significant moment in US cultural history has occurred this week. The Supreme Court ruled on two pivotal same sex marriage cases. The Defense of Marriage Act (known as DOMA) was struck down as being unconstitutional. Moments later, California’s Proposition 8 was dismissed as well. The Supreme Court ruled that in the Prop 8 case, there was no standing for the court to decide the case so the lower court ruling, that it was unconstitutional, stands.

Many have been eagerly anticipating these decisions.  Some were hoping against hope that the Court would make history and allow all couples to be treated equally in the eyes of the law regardless of their sexual orientation.  But others have been hoping and praying that the court would maintain the status quo because they are concerned that a change in this definition will prove damaging to society. Despite surging acceptance of marriage quality over the past ten years, the divide on this issue remains significant. The pull in either direction is far from irresistible to the opposing side.

History clearly seems to be moving in the direction of social justice. And for many it is about time. Equality is one of the planks on which this nation was founded. Justice is a central orientation of most faith traditions.

And so I have always loved the Gospel of Luke because of its focus on social justice.  With its many depictions of Jesus in ministry with the marginalized, Luke is the most socially aware of the Gospel accounts.  The counter-cultural Messiah that Luke proclaims is one who moves me into action. This gospel is about ministry to the last, the least, the lost, and the left-behind. And there is resistance in that.

In Luke 9:51-62, we seem to have a call story of sorts, but actually this is a story of resistance to the call to discipleship. In the first part of this passage, Jesus’ message is resisted by the Samaritans. And in the second part, Jesus’ own disciples continue to find his turn toward Jerusalem and his death hard to accept.

Even with Jesus’ time on earth growing short and his message becoming more urgent, the disciples nonetheless resisted his call for love and acceptance. Resistance wasn’t new then, and it isn’t now. We still resist change, resist persons who are different from ourselves, resist new ideas, resist difficult concepts or options, and even resist the message from Jesus to be the loving disciples he calls us to be.

This week’s rulings on DOMA and Prop 8 will of course find resistance – some of it extreme. For me, the court deciding anything but full equality would have been a massive blow.  I celebrate equality and wept for joy when the news of the rulings came. Many others like me, whose faith is oriented around a social-justice that yearns for full equality, will join me in that celebration.

For others with different theological and political perspectives, these decisions will be a difficult test, and they will struggle to accept them. I pray for their comfort and consolation.

So what does the text say to us that might be helpful in the midst of so many contrary positions?

For me, this Gospel reading speaks volumes about hospitality, resistance, and moving forward. Resistance happens. But so does the call of justice. And for me, that call is irresistible, irreversible, and always moving forward.

In the passage, Jesus calls for us to keep our eyes forward while our hands are on the plow. Jesus is moving toward the fulfillment of his mission (that is, his death and resurrection), and he does not look anywhere but forward toward his mission on earth.

Today, this forward movement continues with the decisions of the court. And in our culture, resistance should be expected. Even if justice is delayed or denied by the court, resistance and continued movement toward justice will advance. As Martin Luther King said not so long ago, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

Those in our number who search for full equality for all persons – regardless of one’s sexual orientation, race, gender, economic status, or other factors - will keep their hands on the plow and keep moving forward. For others, they will do as they feel led. Do I agree with them? No. Do I understand their motivations? Yes, to some degree. I fully expect that folks of differing opinions will continue to struggle with each other. There may be no other way to reach an equal and just treatment of all people.

And yet in the midst of all this dissension, I support the freedom to marry and full equality for all. I support marriage equality because of my faith not in spite of it. And in that call to justice and in everything I have come to know about faith, I trust that resistance indeed is futile.

This piece is available on Odyssey Networks at http://odysseynetworks.org/news/2013/06/26/marriage-equality-and-the-us-supreme-court and Huffington Post: Religion at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/karyn-l-wiseman-phd/gospel-of-luke-gay-marriage_b_3505326.html

A Prayer for Oklahoma

When the winds come ...

Gracious God,

We pray for our brothers and sisters in Oklahoma
recovering from the damaging tornado that touched down in their midst.

We pray for the Mothers and Fathers, Brothers and Sisters, Families and Friends
dealing with the loss of life, loss of property, loss of livelihood and loss of peace of mind.

We pray for children and adults lost and persons injured from the debris
whirling all around them and causing even more pain than we can comprehend.

We pray for small miracles and teachers who shield the children in their care.
We pray for pets found and family treasures located in the rubble.

We pray for first responders and hospital staff treating the injured.
We pray for recovery teams on the way to help in the aftermath of such destruction.
We pray for pastors and churches as they minister to their congregations and communities in pain.

We pray for God's comfort and peace in the midst of choas.
We pray for God's guidance and grace in the midst of trials.
We pray for God's love to be felt by all in Oklahoma coming from around the globe.

We are there in spirit, holding you in prayer, and sending you our best wishes and resources for recovery.

Feel us with you. Feel God enfolding you in love. Feel the energy and support we are sending your way.

In Christ's name we pray.

Amen.

Wounded Faith

 This morning I was checking out my Facebook feed and saw the above photo that intrigued me greatly.  It was on the status of a clergy friend who often posts funny photos of himself photoshopped into some absurd situation or onto someone else’s body. So I was intrigued by the seriousness of the image – which I thought was a bit uncharacteristic.

When I really looked at it, I was reminded of the many times my Grandmother or Mom would tell me that I could survive anything through faith and that Jesus was bigger than any of my problems or issues. But there were definitely times in my life when my issues, problems, concerns, or drama seemed much bigger than my faith, bigger than Jesus, and definitely bigger than my understanding of God.

But I distinctly remember being told the opposite as I was growing up. “God doesn't give us more than we can handle,” I was told. Well, if that’s true, then evidently God has a higher opinion of what I can handle than I do.

Now I have to be honest about my life. I am a white, middle-class, highly educated, well employed, fairly healthy American woman. I am a Protestant in a vibrant community of faith and work in a vocation that I love and enjoy immensely. I have good health care and options for where I go to receive treatment when I am sick. I have a home that is warm and comfortable. My son is in a great school and had the ability to apply to multiple magnet schools for high school next year. I have an amazing family – my family of origin and my family of choice— and I know that I am richly blessed.

So how bad could my problems be? Right?

We all have secret pain. We all have brokenness. We all have wounds that do not fully heal despite all the salve we put on them. The truth is that no matter our circumstances in life – there is still heartache, pain and wounds.

Sometimes the pain comes from wounds that we are too frightened to talk about to others. Sometimes it comes from things we had no control over. Sometimes it comes from bad decisions we made in our past. Sometimes it comes from the evil some people do to others. Sometimes it comes from how society treats people that are deemed “others.” And sometimes it is what we do to ourselves.

No matter how we get these wounds - they are real. The pain is real. The feelings that the wounds and pain are bigger than Jesus – bigger than God—are real.  And no easy answers and pithy slogans on photos makes that pain go away. I know that.

But I believe that God helps to heal our wounds if we open our lives to that. I believe that our faith can and does help us survive difficult situations in our lives. I do believe that God is big enough to take our pain, to take our anger, to take our frustrations, and to take our brokenness and help us begin to heal.

For me that healing comes from my faith, from my church community, from my understanding of God’s desire for the best for me, and from the love with which I am surrounded every day.  For me healing comes in the Eucharistic meal I participate in every week with my seminary community and monthly with my community of faith. For me healing comes from a faith life that includes prayer, reading the scriptures, spending time in spiritual practices, and honoring my personal faith needs.

But even those powerful parts of my life do not automatically heal all of my wounds. Some wounds are even deeper than I want to admit. I am trying to be open to healing and wholeness. But I still have the wounds. They have shrunken over the years but I still have the scars. There has been healing and renewal, but that does not make me immune from new pain. There have been moments of complete clarity about my life and other times when everything was foggy. And I know that in all of those situations, God was with me. God was bigger than my pain, but I had to open myself to the possibility of healing. I had to stop focusing on the wounds so that I could feel the power of the healing.

The healing was sometimes as painful as the wounding—because it often involved forgiving the person(s) who injured me. And the healing was not always complete because I often held onto the pain since it was so personal to me.  And it had been such a part of my journey.

Healing comes if we open ourselves to the possibilities. It can be slow and difficult.

Wounds are not bigger than we are. Pain is not bigger than we are. Even though they feel like that sometimes – they are not bigger than God.

I have to remember that – I think that we all do. 

Bent But Not Broken

This has been an impossible week of tragedy and triumph, brokenness and bravery, gory injuries and graciousness, terror and tenacity, angry words and awakenings, betrayal and blessing.

We started the week with the horror of the bombings at the Boston Marathon. The tragedy unfolded to reveal the deaths of three beautiful souls and the maiming of so many others. The losses will affect these victims, survivors, and their families for the rest of their lives. But out of it we also witnessed the triumph of the human spirit as first responders and regular citizens rushed toward the blasts to help others in need. The number of injuries and the gruesomeness of the injuries was devastating. The reality that humans did this to others was alarming and disheartening.

We moved quickly into learning that our elected officials refused to vote the will of 90% of the American people to extend the reach of background checks for gun purchases. It was a devastating loss for sensible legislation to curb gun violence. It was a crushing blow to many who have worked tirelessly for this goal. The refusal by the Senate to say NO to the NRA was painful.

This week was also marred by the mailing of ricin filled letters to a US Senator and to the President of the United States by an angry, bitter man bent on hurting others. The depth of hatred and destruction some will stoop to saddened us.

We entered into a wave of destruction once again as a fertilizer plant in West, Texas caught fire and the very firefighters who answered the call were trapped in the blaze. The explosion filled the earth with fire and fear. Fourteen persons were killed – ten of them first responders – and hundreds were injured. The loss of life and the destruction of homes and businesses will reshape and affect that community for decades to come.

The manhunt for the bombing suspects continued in the city of Boston and the surrounding communities as we moved into the later part of the week.  Word of gunfights, a carjacking, and tossed IEDs and grenades sent a wave of fear once again racing through those in the area. When word came that the first suspect was dead and later that the second had been arrested - cries of relief and gratitude poured forth from the people of Boston and around the country.

In the midst of this we learned of a massive earthquake that struck China. Hundreds are likely dead and thousands injured. The loss is tremendous and gut-wrenching. We are left to watch rescue workers rush into collapsed building debris to find survivors and everyday heroes are lending a hand. Once again we cried out in anguish.

And we are left to wonder ... Did this week suck or what?

Yes. It did. There was destruction, brutality, tragedy, terror, and betrayal. And it saddened us beyond words.

But there was also amazing heroism, bravery, tenacity, unity, and love. Bostonians opened their homes to people needing a place to stay. People in Texas rushed to help and supported the families of the firefighters killed and injured and helped persons who lost their homes. Citizens in Boston and China with no medical training came to the aid of their brothers and sisters in need and made us proud. Law Enforcement officers did their jobs with amazing tenacity and professionalism that made a city want to collectively hug them all. And a determined and brave former congresswoman, Gabby Giffords, vowed to not give up the fight on guns and tens of thousands of new folks joined her in the quest.

This week bent us - but it did not break us. It did not break us because in all of these situations people of good will banded together to react positively and to respond together. It did not break us because we joined forces regardless of gender or sexuality or age or faith or other differences.

But we did bend folks - some used the actions of a few to lump an entire religion’s followers into the role of "bad guy." Some used coded language about "brown skinned people” and "not being American enough." Some blamed gays or the government or conspiracies or each other for the danger and fear. Some assumed evil intent too quickly. Some made statements on social media that all "foreigners should be kicked out now." Some in the news media failed on so many levels.  And so did some of our leaders.

We bent. But we did not break - we are a strong people. And we are stronger together. We are better when we reach out to help and when we hold each other accountable. We are better when we understand that we are all children of God.

Our brothers and sisters in China, Boston, Texas, and around the world deserve our prayers. The victims, survivors, first responders, and those affected by these events are due our respect.

The circumstances of this week needed quiet respect and honor instead of politics, protests, and positioning. The events of this week were worthy of our best and in so many ways we rose to the occasion. But we need to be better. We need to work harder at keeping the hate, distrust, and anger at bay. We need to be more willing to wait for the right answer and not the quick one.

We bent this week folks – and we need to learn from that. But we did not break – and we need to celebrate that.