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.

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. 

Stained-glass Ceilings and Silencing Women

I teach in a seminary in Philadelphia and every semester I am teaching different classes with a changing group of students. This semester, I’m teaching two courses that I am seriously enjoying. One is an exciting class called Gender, Sexuality and Leadership. We are looking at how our gender and sexuality (and other elements of their personhood – education, race, ethnicity, socio-economic status, political beliefs, religious tradition, etc.) determine not only how we lead but also how our leadership is perceived by others. The course is a senior seminar so all of my students are about to graduate and enter into ministry – as pastors, as leaders in other ministry settings, and as public theologians.

As the course has explored the issue of how our gender is seen in leadership – especially in the church and religious institutions – we have had some intriguing moments of discovery. We have had guest speakers who have shared some startling stories of women being silenced and marginalized in their leadership. We have heard stories of women not being listened to in meetings and their leadership being defined as “less than” their male counterparts in a number of ways. And we have heard stories of women being denied in ministry and leadership by other women as well as by men.

When I hear our guests talk about their pastoral experiences I am reminded of my own. As a woman in pastoral leadership I have had some tough moments. One such situation happened in my first congregation. It was a small rural community in eastern Kansas. The town had a population of about 350 and the little church had 95 members. We were lucky to have 45-50 in weekly worship and to hit 65-70 on high holy days.

When I arrived I was told about Martha (not her real name). Martha was a very wealthy widow who had always had a significant amount of power in the congregation. Her financial gifts made up a large part of the annual giving of the congregation and therefore she had high expectations of pastoral attention.

Within the first few weeks of moving to the community I attempted to make an appointment to go see her in her home.  I was doing the same with many members – some who had not yet been in church since my arrival, some who might be in need of care, and others who I was simply told I needed to contact. Martha kept making appointments with me and then would cancel. I tried but was not sure how to proceed. Finally I decided to just drop by to see her one afternoon.

She invited me in but made it clear after an initial conversation, that I was not her pastor and never would be. I politely asked her why and she stated, quite emphatically, “No woman will ever be my pastor.” I tried to discuss the topic with her but there was no budging her. I asked if there were any possible ways that I could minister to her and if she would continue to come to church. She said she would come back to the church the Sunday after I left and would hold her financial support until that time as well. I pastored there for three years and she never darkened the doors of the church and never sent in her pledge.

I never could get Martha to explain to me why she was so opposed to women in ministry. She was not willing to talk about it to me. So I was left to wonder.

About a year into being appointed there, I heard that she was in the hospital in the next town over. I was told that her condition was serious. She was scheduled to undergo heart surgery to correct the problem she was experiencing. So I showed up to visit and offer pastoral care the day prior to the surgery. I knocked before entering her room and was told I could enter. So I cautiously entered her room to check on her, to let her know I cared, and to pray if she wanted. As I came in I said “Hello, Martha. I just wanted to come by to see how you are and to bring this get well card from the congregation.” She looked at me and asked if I would leave the card on the bedside table. I walked over to the bed and laid the card down. I asked her if I could pray for her and she responded “No, thank you.”

That was it. She turned in the bed away from me and I knew she was done with me.

I did ask a colleague from the UM Church in the town where the hospital was located to go by and offer her care before and after the surgery. And he did. Since he was a man, she welcomed him in and allowed him to provide her with care. That was all I could think of to do.

This experience is not rare and it’s not new. Women in ministry have come a long way but they experience these kinds of ministry denials often. Women are silenced and ignored. Women are limited in their ministry by stained-glass ceilings and sexist feelings.

It can be very painful and women can be left to feel helpless. I don’t pretend to have all of the answers, but want to offer a few suggestions. So how do we counter all of this?

First, we can continue to be the best pastors we possibly can be and be who God made us to be. We can continue to speak up and challenge those persons and systems that keep women from being in ministry or from sharing their gifts.

Second, we can enlist our brothers in ministry to be our advocates and allies so that they can help those closed to our voices finally hear us. They do not become our saviors – they become our partners.

Third, we can enlist and encourage our denominational leaders to be our advocates and allies as well and challenge them when they won’t be. We can hold them accountable.

Fourth, we can share our stories and help support other women in ministry by creating spaces where they can share theirs. We can be people of grace and peace in the midst of denial and silencing. We don’t have to hold all of the pain or feel like we have to solve it all but we can be someone who listens, learns and heals with others who have been hurt.

Fifth, we can strive to pray and keep our spiritual center so that even in times when our ministry and gifts are challenged we are able to keep on pastoring to those who will receive our gifts and graces. And this will allow us to keep on being a pastoral presence even for those less open to our ministry.

Lastly, we can have to hold fast to our call, lead with integrity and know that God called us – no matter what anyone else says.

Thin Places of Faith

I was introduced to a Celtic idea called “thin places” recently by a student of mine. I have had these kinds of experiences before but never had this particular language to describe them. The Celtic phrase, “thin places,” describes situations where heaven and earth come together so profoundly that the distance between them is almost erased – a moment of connection to the Divine that is close and profoundly intimate.

In the Celtic tradition, heaven and earth are about 3 feet apart. But in “thin places” the distance is significantly reduced. I’m not certain about the 3 feet estimation of this tradition, but I’ve definitely had “thin place” experiences.

When I was in high school I went on a two week backpacking trip into the high Rocky Mountains of Colorado. We packed in our food and water for a wonderful experience in the mountains. I was stunned and amazed every day and night at all that I was seeing.

We had some remarkable opportunities. We saw herds of elk passing through grassy valleys, majestic eagles flying overhead, and dug out snow-packed areas for tent sites. I saw and experienced things that I never had before as a teen from the plains of West Texas. I had a tremendous time.

And I learned the most important rule of camping and hiking – never go anywhere alone. We were paired up and had a buddy for most of the trip. On occasion we had a different buddy but mine for the majority of the trip was Beth.

One night – way into the wee hours – nature called. I tried very hard to wake Beth up but she was out cold. I tried a few others in our camp and no one was budging. So I decided I could head out on my own as long as I stayed close to the camp (I know, it was dumb but I was young and fearless). I grabbed my trusty flashlight and headed out.

After completing my task, I thought I saw some deer moving by me and followed a bit to get a closer look at them. It did not take long for me to get turned around and lost.

Then something bad happened. The batteries in my flashlight burned out and I was in the dark. It wasn’t just dark – it was pitch dark. It was the darkest kind of dark that I had ever experienced. I could not even see my hand in front of my face. And I began to get a bit scared.

Then I started to panic. I was lost, I had no light, and I did not know what to do. So I sat down to figure out what to do next. I wondered who would find me and tell my parents I loved them if I did not make it back home (I know, it’s dramatic but again – I was young).

As I sat there, my eyes started to adjust to the dark. And as they did, I discovered that it was not as dark as I had thought it was. There was actually light shining from the amazing array of stars up in the sky. But I was in the high Rockies and they appeared so close that I literally thought I could reach out and touch some of them. There were millions of them – bright, shiny, translucent, and flickering.

In that moment I knew heaven and earth were so close together and that I was experiencing that. There was a razor’s edge between the two. And it was astonishing. I hope you have had “thin moments,” as well. But some of you may never have felt this kind of closeness to the Divine or heaven or God or whatever your call this presence. But in that moment I believe that I did.

I felt calmer, I began to make out familiar tree lines and ridges, and I could see the outlines of the area where I was pretty sure our campsite was. I began to walk on a trail I found – lit by the abundant heavenly stars – and found the campsite in just a short hike.

It was definitely a “thin place.” And I was grateful heaven and earth were so close together in that moment.

But I’ve also had the reverse – I guess we could call them “think places.” I had moments when I did not feel connected to God and times when I felt a great distance between heaven and earth.  It felt much wider than 3 feet. Most of you have felt the same way.

Now as I look back on the moments when I felt the distance between heaven and earth was wider or felt somewhat alone, I know it was not God who moved away. The Divine was still very close – maybe I did not feel it as close as I felt it on that mountaintop, but God was close nonetheless. The distance between heaven and earth is so often erased.

What’s the difference? Sometimes I’m just not sure. Was it me being open and needy on the mountaintop that led me to feel that connection? Or was it simply the circumstances? I can’t say I really have an answer but I am trying to be open to the “thin places” every day. Some days I am better than others – but I pray to be open enough to experience them. And I pray for you to experience them too.

Blog … Resolutions For a Better 2013 - Cynicism be Damned

After this year of mass shootings, economic hi-jinks in Congress, hateful political rhetoric leading up to the election, one absurd celebrity incident after another, discord and division in every realm of our society, and failed attempts at being a better people - I am tempted to be cynical about 2013. But somewhere deep inside me there is still that kid who gathered with her family around a table on New Year’s Day to eat black-eyed peas for good luck and share the resolutions we made for the new year.

I have not really made personal resolutions the last few years because I typically fail at keeping them within the first few months of the year. But this year I want to try something new – I want to make some for our society. And yes, we may fail in the first few months of the new year but I want to put them out there anyway … and will continue to pray that we try to make them come true.

First, let’s resolve to end the culture of obscene violence in our society. Let’s end the sale of assault and assault-style weapons outside of the police and military. Let’s end the production of and sale of high volume ammunition clips. Let’s set an example as a culture that has been intimately damaged by the slaughter of the innocents and chooses to do and be better as a result. Let’s be a society that values life more than the 2^nd amendment. This does not preclude hunters from being able to hunt or cops and military personnel from having the weapons they need to protect us but regular citizens do not need assault weapons or high volume clips. Our society will be better for it.

Second, let’s resolve to be more loving of one another. Let us take care of those around us who are weak, mentally and physically impaired, destitute, sick, and/or living in poverty. Let’s resolve to do the right thing for our neighbors so that they feel love in their lives in ways that are profound and personal. Let’s be willing to show mercy to those in need and not require some means-test from them to be considered worthy of that help. Let’s be our best selves and help others to be their best selves as well. Our society will be better for it.

Third, let’s be more tolerant and accepting of those with whom we disagree or with whom we have profound theological, political, or cultural differences. Let’s look for our similarities instead of always focusing on the differences first. Let’s be kinder to one another – in our real lives and in the digital world. Let’s have civil conversations and listen to the opinions of the others in our lives. And let’s show this to our children as the way to honor each other’s uniqueness so that the next generation learns from us. Our society will be better for it.

Fourth, let’s be a people of faith who trust each other again despite our diverse faith traditions. Let us be a people who honor the faith of others in profound and important ways while still being true to our own beliefs. Let’s be people of faith who welcome the stranger, visit the imprisoned, help the sick, bring the wounded stranger from the side of the road into a place of care, and accept that we can make a difference in the lives of others by being true to the God who love us all. Our society will be better for it.

Lastly, let’s be a people who are open to affirming the rights of others. Let us see persons of color and work to right the injustices inflicted upon them. Let us listen to the stories of injustice of the LGBT community and honor them with acceptance and greater moves toward full inclusion. Let us hear the desperation of kids in failing school systems and work to make things more just for all kids needing to be educated. Let’s see the elderly and little kids as the gifts they are and cherish them in ways that protect their safety and care for their needs. And let us make the effort to be connected to each other – not just on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or Pinterest – but in real life. Let us reach out and make a difference in our world. Our society will be better for it.

Maybe we will fail at these … but isn't it worth the effort to try? And to keep on trying no matter what?

Our society will be better for it.

Not the Happiest Time of Year for Everyone …

 Growing up, I was sick a lot. And when I say a lot ... I really mean it. Epilepsy, allergies, lots of infections, double viral pneumonia, etc. I spent a lot of time with doctors and with my mom and dad waiting for doctors. It was just part of my life growing up. I got used to it.

Some of the time we were certain of what was going to go on when we walked into the office ... like the regular neurological visits when they would do an EEG to test for seizure activity (I was lucky to have outgrown my epilepsy). Some of the time I was hoping for a quick in and out ... but it was a long wait and I got a shot when I was sick. Some of the time it was for tests ... and they would stick my back and arms for allergies and I would react to just about all of them.

One of the sickest times of the year was always around Christmas. I would be ill from late in the month of November to early January (the same time we had a tree in our home). We began to suspect that it was my allergies. When they tested me for about 500 items, I was allergic to over 400 of them. And I was allergic to just about every type of evergreen there is. So we got rid of our live tree and evergreens and have had artificial trees ever since.

That solved the issue for the most part but it does not solve it completely. I still have to be in places with live trees and greens and they are not easy places for me to be. I visit homes that have pets and evergreens and come home sick. It is kind of hard to avoid at times – especially around Christmas.

I take meds and precautions - sometimes even taking too much just to survive. But still it is a miserable time of the year allergy wise.

Today I was at my church - a church I dearly love - and found that their method of hanging the greens this year meant no safe space for those of us with allergies. It was beautiful and miserable all at the same time.

As I sat there feeling sorry for myself and others who were suffering, I was reminded of all of the people for whom the holidays are especially difficult. Some due to illness, some due to the loss of a loved one, and some due to a dislike of the consumerism and greed that seems to have infected the season. There are many reasons why this time of year is hard for folks. Some of those reasons are very personal and private.

But there reasons are very real. We hear songs about this being the happiest time of the year, but for many it is a time of torment and suffering - depression and anguish. For some it is painful, dreadfully lonely, and a reminder of just how blue they feel. For some it is a constant drumming of joyful songs all around them in the midst of feeling very little joy themselves.

I love Christmas - especially with artificial trees and greens - and live trees from a distance.  When I was a pastor, my churches all switched to artificial greens and trees while I was there which was very kind and caring of them. My family loves their artificial tree now and we never miss the "real thing." Adaptations helped me a lot.

So I pray for folks for whom this time of year is tough. You don't have to fake happy for us. You don't have to say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays to us. Many of us will try to be sensitive to your needs and not push our love of Christmas off on you - though unfortunately not everyone will be aware of your feelings.

You don't have to love the lights and carols. You don't have to explain that going to the Mall this time of year is just too much for you. You have the right to feel and experience the holidays as you need to.

Just know that we see you. We know you are there and we acknowledge that this time of the year is tough for you. We feel it too at times. Know that you are loved.

Whether your Christmas is decidedly red and green or some shade of the blues - you are special and God's beloveds.

Feel that, if you can, and know you're not alone.

Whiny Thanks and All ...

I have just finished, I hope, one of the busiest periods of my professional career.  And I am exhausted. I have finished my first book, been on the curriculum revision committee at the seminary where I teach, created a brand new course and taught it this semester, had a lot going on in my church and personal life, presented at the meeting of my professional guild, and have taken on too many writing obligations than I should have. So I am beat.

But I am also so amazingly aware of how blessed I am. I have a family I love, a job I adore, students who inspire me, writing jobs that challenge and engage my mind, and I love to teach new and old courses alike. So I am blessed.

I watch friends and even family members struggling without jobs or suffering in jobs they do not enjoy or are not fed by. I watch colleagues struggling with job searches and reduced teaching loads. So I am thankful.

I have not blogged in a while because my writing was focused on my book. I have not felt good about it and have complained because I missed it terribly. But I hear friends and colleagues struggling to get what they want to say on paper and I am aware again how lucky I am to have these projects and contracts to write. So I am appreciative.

Many times, however, when I am busy and tired - I whine. Many times when I over schedule - I whine. Seldom do I stop - and just sit in gratitude and bask in the blessing.

So this past month I took on the Gratitude Challenge on Facebook. I wrote every day of the month of November about things I was grateful for. Some were silly ... like being thankful for ice-cream. Some were situationally based ... like being grateful for a fantastic sermon preached in class by one of my students.  Some were family focused ... like being grateful for the heritage passed on to me from previous generations and the chance to pass them on to my son.

Some were about vocational and personal happiness ... like being grateful for a job I love and the terrific house that is part of my compensation and the chance to live in our wonderful community. And some were deeply personal ... like being thankful for the safety of my son when some friends of my niece were in a terrible auto accident. And some were intensely spiritual ... like being grateful for being part of my faith community in its inclusive, progressive, challenging, incarnational, and prophetic reality.

I am writing this after Thanksgiving week and at the end of the Gratitude Challenge on Facebook - a natural time to stop and give thanks. And I am immensely thankful for all of these things, people, situations, communities, etc. But today I also want to say thanks for keeping me busy, for making me crazy with deadlines, for my family and community, and for obligations that bless me and my vocation.

I may still whine and complain when I allow too much on my plate, but even in those times I want to stop and say thank you. I am grateful for my life - and all that is part of this fantastic existence that God has blessed me with.

Thank you, God for my life - in the craziness and in the calm.

Thank you, God for my family - in their lovely absurdity and in their caring.

Thank you, God for my faith - in the times of doubt and in the moments of certainty.

Thank you, God for my job - in the crush of papers and in the moments of grace.

Thank you, God for my church - in the challenges and in the growth.

Thank you, God for my parents - in their aging issues and in their spry youthful joy.

Thank you, God for my writing - in the moments it rocks and in the ones when it sucks.

Thank you, God for your presence - in all times and in all places.

Thank you, God, again, for my life - in the blessings and in the pain.

Thank you, God.

When Will It End?

Today I awoke like everyone else to hear about another school shooting.  This one was in Chardon, Ohio where one student died and four others were shot by a classmate who opened fire in the school cafeteria.  It has been an all too common thread in our society – mass shootings at school, in church, at home, and in the workplace.  Mass shootings taking place to supposedly right some wrong – perceived or real – are happening far too often.

On Tuesday, April 20, 1999, at Columbine High School in Columbine, Colorado, 12 students and one teacher were killed by two of their classmates.  Another 21 students were injured.  Watching the chaos was disturbing and haunting.  Today brought back memories of that day in 1999.

It was a horror to watch then and many talked about ways to combat the violent responses by teens who are outcasts, from broken homes, depressed, bullied, into violent gaming, etc.  Yet here we stand again in the midst of another mass shooting.  We don’t yet know all the details but early reports suggest this young man was angry, bullied, and an outcast.  Whatever his reasons for shooting his fellow classmates – it was not the answer.

The obvious questions will continue to be asked – where did he get the gun?  Was it a legal purchase?  Was it an unsecured gun?  What had happened in his life to bring him to this point?  Where was his family?  What role could teachers and counselors in the school have played in preventing this horror?  What could other students have done to reach out to this young man?  What made him target those particular students?

But there are no easy or fast answers.  

Right now I pray for the family of the student killed, for those who were injured and their families, for the alleged shooter and his family, for those students who escaped injury, for the community of Chardon, for the teachers and staff of the school, for the parents who worried about their children, and for God presence in all of this.

I wish I could snap my fingers and end bullying.  I wish there was not a way these troubled and bullied people could get their hands on firearms.  I wish these situations would become a tragic memory of the past never to occur again.  I wish bullying would never end forever.  I wish violence was not seen as an answer to slights and pain.  I wish all gun violence would end.  I wish for peace in the midst of this chaos and pain. 

Until then – we pray for all of those involved and for our hurting world.  We pray for a faith that sets us free from violence and pain.  We pray.  Lord, in your mercy.

I Am NOT Old!

I went to get my eyes checked this week and had to list my age, allergies, and current prescriptions on the patient information page.  (Five meds I take daily.)  I had to list my allergies to medications.  (I had a couple. Namely, penicillin)  And I had to do a glaucoma and cataracts test.  (Good for now.)

Then I started the actual eye exam.  And the 20 something Doctor said to me, "At your age ... needing to go up in the power of the reading level of your no line trifocals is normal."

"At my age ...". Seriously?  I am not even 50 yet.  How old does the young man think I am?

Was that a slap at my age or just a simple statement by the guy?  It could be taken as either but I took it as a little bit of a slap ... even though I laughed with him.  I do have very salt and pepper colored hair (although more salt than pepper these days), but I am not even eligible for AARP yet.  I do have arthritis and high blood pressure (but I blame sports injuries and my family genetics for those).  I am one of the older parents of kids in my son's class but not the oldest.  And I guess I do have friends from high school who are posting pictures of their grandkids on Facebook. 

But I am NOT old.

Then I started thinking about age.  Was it really a slap?  My parents are in their mid-70s and are the youngest 70+ people I know.  And despite the periodic colds, sinus infections, and aches from arthritis - I am in good health.  Yes, I need to lose weight, exercise more, and eat better - all 2012 goals - but overall I am in good health.

Age is something we joke about as a culture.  Some folks hide or deny their age.  Some folks get plastic surgery to not look their age.  Some even try unconventional remedies to stave off aging.

Me ... not so much.  I will be 50 this year and I relish it.  I am enjoying my Jubilee year.  I have pretty grey hair and I earned every single one of them.  I have creaks and groans but I am still moving.  I have laugh lines by my eyes and I am glad I took the journey that gave them to me.

I have a son who keeps me young (he has also aged me but I like the other fact better). I have friends who keep me laughing and enjoying life.  I have a family that loves me and inspires me.  I have a vocation that lets me share who I am and my gifts in ways that make me light up constantly.

I have grown in faith over the years, become more confident with who I am, and lived through some tough times that helped me to be who I am now.  I have deepened my relationships with my family and know my place in the world.  God has blessed me in numerous ways. And I am thankful for it all.

So, aging ... bring it on.  My life has only gotten better with age.   Just don’t call me old.  I’m just gently used … experienced … perfected with time.  

Whatever you call it … bring it on.

Ok, maybe I’d like to have a few less creaks and groans, but still ... bring it on.

Sharing Something worth Sharing

One of my friends posted John Wesley’s Holy Club Questions today on Facebook.  I had not read them recently and they instantly brought me right back to my UM Polity and Doctrine course in seminary at Saint Paul School of Theology in Kansas City, Missouri.  It was an amazing moment of memory and connection.

If you are not familiar with them, here they are:

• Am I consciously or unconsciously creating the impression that I am better than I really am? In other words, am I a hypocrite?
• Am I honest in all my acts and words, or do I exaggerate?
• Do I confidentially pass on to another what was told to me in confidence?
• Can I be trusted?
• Am I a slave to dress, friends, work, or habits?
• Am I self-conscious, self-pitying, or self-justifying?
• Did the Bible live in me today?
• Do I give it time to speak to me every day?
• Am I enjoying prayer?
• When did I last speak to someone else about my faith?
• Do I pray about the money I spend?
• Do I get to bed on time and get up on time?
• Do I disobey God in anything?
• Do I insist upon doing something about which my conscience is uneasy?
• Am I defeated in any part of my life?
• Am I jealous, impure, critical, irritable, touchy, or distrustful?
• How do I spend my spare time?
• Am I proud?
• Do I thank God that I am not as other people, especially as the Pharisees who despised the publican?
• Is there anyone whom I fear, dislike, disown, criticize, hold resentment toward or disregard? If so, what am I doing about it?
• Do I grumble or complain constantly?
• Is Christ real to me?

Several of these jumped out at me, but the one that constantly brings me up short asks, “When did I last speak to someone else about my faith?” 

Sharing something “important” in our lives takes place hundreds, if not hundreds of thousands of times, on Twitter and Facebook every minute of the day.  People tweet what they are doing in 140 characters or less even if it seems trivial or pointless to others.  People update their status on Facebook whether it is about an awesome cup of coffee, a gripe about their job, or a life changing event.  We sit around dinner tables at home and in restaurants telling others about things that we did during that particular day.  Sharing daily events happens all the time.

But faith is something we could be sharing more often than most of us currently are.  The question asks, simply, are your talking about your faith with others?  And more pointedly, when was the last time you did so?

My faith is vital to who I am.  Living my faith is a daily activity.  Walking with God is essential to my life.  Being part of a community of faith is my lifeblood.  Taking time to pray is a daily ritual.  Being a servant for justice makes my faith walk and talk in the world.  Following the example of Jesus is something I strive to do always.

But again, Wesley asks, “When did I last speak to someone else about my faith?”  For me it’s easy.  I had a talk about my faith on the plane coming back from Texas earlier this month after my seatmate asked what I do for a living and got curious.  But before that - and outside of the classroom or pulpit - it has been a while. And I need to be better about that.

Sharing our faith is an important part of our lives as Christians.  But we often fail to do so.

Why?  Fear, lack of experience, discomfort sharing personal faith stories, lack of relationships with those who we could share with, anxiety about sharing too much, tensions in our own faith lives, and many others keep us from sharing our faith.

Sharing our faith starts with creating relationships – in our work places, in our communities, in our families, in our social networks, etc.  Being ourselves and sharing who we are as people of faith can be as simple as sharing a prayer on Twitter or Facebook, as personal as talking about our church or faith community with friends, or as profound as bringing another person to faith through our words and witness.

We have to start somewhere.  So this week … share your faith with others.  Do it in subtle, simple ways to gain confidence … then you will feel even more comfortable sharing your faith story with others down the line.

Sharing has to start sometime.  What better time than now?

Winter at the Beach!?

Going to the beach in the winter is not something I had ever thought much about.  In the best of circumstances I am not really a beach person.  I do not like the feel of sand in my clothes or between my toes.  I do not drink tropical drinks with little umbrellas in them.  I am not a super strong swimmer and the rough surf beats my knees up.  And I do not like to be in the sun too much.  I have, however, been on a number of beach vacations with family and friends.  Mainly I go to the beach because of my son and my friends.  They like the beach – in fact, they love the beach.  My son loves the water, making sand castles, riding a boogie board on the waves, and flying kites at the beach.  Me ... not so much.

I like being comfortable. I like TV, the Internet, my comfortable chair, and good leisure times.  But roughing it is not something I do.  And my definition of roughing it is pretty narrow.  I always say roughing it is staying in a hotel without room service.  So beach going is not really my "thang."

So when I found out the second leg of my Wabash Pre-Tenure Seminary Faculty group was meeting at Mustang Island in Texas – in the winter - I was less than thrilled, but open to going to a place 60 degrees above where it was at home when I left. So I thought I would give winter beach going a try (plus we are required to attend as part of our fellowship).

So off I went to the beach ... in the winter ... in Texas.

The first afternoon I walked the beach with one of my Wabash colleagues and caught up on job and family stuff.  It was a great visit.  I took pictures of birds, waves, and sand dunes.  I listened to the surf and watched the sunset.

The next morning I woke up to the sounds of waves and birds from my room.  It was amazing.  We had been told that if we wanted to get in the water there were two things to remember:  1) the water is VERY cold and 2) you have to do the "stingray shuffle" to avoid getting stung by the stingrays in the water.  The cold water was enough to keep me away.  Then they warned us about stingrays in the water and rattlesnakes in the brush.  So now I was completely ok with staying out of the water, on the boardwalk, and in the safe places.

But this place was growing on me.  How could it not?

God is in the rhythm of the waves, the beat of the birds' heart and wings, the gentle touch of the breeze, and the laughter/conversation with my friends.  I am taking the slow approach to being at the beach in winter.  There are no children needing to be entertained, no sand castles to be judged, and no bogie boards to go retrieve from the waves – which is the usual pattern of my family time at the beach.  It's just me and my thoughts (and sometimes my friends with me).

One night I took pictures of the sunset and we had a bonfire on the beach.  It is still not my favorite thing – cold, sand and wind.  But it was a blessed time with God.  We looked at the constellations and told stories.  I did not stay long but it was fun.

The last full day we did a group “5K Run, Walk, Crawl, Drag” on the beach.  Everyone participated in some way and everyone was so supportive of each other.  What a joy to be on the beach all together in God’s amazing creation.  That last night we sat around playing games and laughed until we almost could not stand it anymore.  We had a blast.

Honestly, this weekend did not sell me on time at the beach – especially in the winter.  But it once again gave me time with nature and with the Creator God who made it all possible.  It was a time of renewal and rest, a time of recreation and rejuvenation.  And all of us need that. 

So offer me time away with God and opportunities to be in the midst of nature, being with good friends, eating amazing food, having sights to see, and getting time for rest – and then tell me it is in the Winter at the Beach – and my response will now be, “Ok, sign me up!”

The Power of Prayer

I had a very interesting discussion at lunch today about prayer.  I was eating with a group of Interfaith Clergywomen and the subject came up in connection to a family health crisis that one of our group members recently experienced.  The subject of prayer was discussed from several different faith traditions and it was interesting how we all viewed prayer as essential but also from very different perspectives, in some ways.

I have been on the receiving end of prayer on numerous occasions in my life.  I have had people praying for my health, for my job situation, for my family, for my ministry, and for many other reasons and occasions.  I felt those prayers each and every time.  I felt them profoundly and personally.  There were times when I felt totally enveloped by those prayers.   The power of those prayers cannot be understated. 

And I have prayed for others.  I have prayed with families before surgery on a loved one, I have prayed at death beds of church members, I have prayed with several youths about a crisis going on in their lives, I have prayed at civic events and public memorials, and I have prayed at many family meals in gratitude for all of the blessings we have received in our lives.  I have prayed for so many people in so many different circumstances that it boggles the mind.  I have prayed for God’s presence in their lives, for them to feel God’s embrace, and for God’s will to be done.  But I try not to ask for specifics.  I have never prayed for a specific job, a specific outcome, or for a new pony, but I know others do and I respect their understanding of prayer.  It’s just not mine.

The questions come when one asks – what became of those prayers?   Did someone who prayed for me to find a job actually make that happen?  Did someone who prayed for my son during his surgery last year make it easier for his recovery to happen?  Did my prayer affect the outcome of someone’s medical tests?  Or did those prayers simply affect how we felt during those times?  Did they cause us to feel more connected to a community of faith and support, thereby feeling less isolated and alone?  Did those prayers cause the events to change as they were uttered? 

I once heard a friend’s young child pray to God for a baby brother.  Her mother asked her, “Do you really think God is going to send you a baby brother? That’s not actually how it works, honey.”  The child looked at her and said, “I know, but it can’t hurt to have God on my side.”

I agree.  I always want God on my side – and believe God is.  But I also believe nothing we say or do in prayer changes how God is with us.  God is present with me always -- just as God is always present with others.  I pray to feel closer to God, to feel more connected to my community, to release my cares into God’s hands, and to remind myself of how I need to be present for others.

I am not diminishing the power of prayer – I believe it is enormously powerful.  But I also do not think prayer is a magic bullet to make things change course simply by our words. I pray because the power of prayer is real.   

I pray – often.  I pray because I believe it is important.  I pray because I believe the power of God in our lives is phenomenal.  I pray ... because prayer is part of me.  I pray because I believe it makes a difference. 

So … I pray.

I Do Not Resolve ...

 This weekend is full of traditions.  We will ring in the New Year at home watching favorite movies and will eat black eyed peas on New Year's Day so we will have good luck.  We will call our family and wish them a great year.  We will stay off the roads and away from drunken revelers. 

And we will skip the New Year's Resolution thing.  I have given up on this tradition.  Too many folks make meaningless promises, break them too quickly and then feel guilty.  So I will skip the meaningless resolutions.  I will not resolve to stop something or start something new.

However, there are some things I will continue this year. 

I will continue to love God, follow Jesus, live my faith and share it with others.  I will continue to love my family beyond words.  I will continue to parent my child and hold him accountable for his mistakes, while also letting him know how much I am proud of him. 

I will continue to teach my students with all that I have in me.  I will continue to support the causes that are important to me - progressive politics, gun control, ending domestic violence, supporting women's causes, and others.

I will continue to spend time working to end economic injustice and hunger.  I will continue to work to end straw gun purchases in Philadelphia.  I will continue to be proud of my church and the advocacy we are involved in.

I will continue to love action movies and mystery novels.  I will continue to enjoy the TV shows I love to watch.  I will keep on blogging and studying social media and preaching.  I will continue to support my family and friends in their dreams.  I will continue to be a fan of the Dallas Cowboys and the New York Yankees (even though it causes me grief in Philly). 

I will continue to be obsessed with Dr. Who and Torchwood.  I will continue to be upset when stores put out Christmas stuff before Halloween.   I will continue to be silly with my son.  I will continue to tell jokes badly and to laugh as often as possible.  I will continue to be happy with who I am.  I will continue to pray for those in need and believe in the power of those prayers.

So I am not resolving to do anything new next year.  I will continue to be me and all that that implies.  God made me … God loves me … and God will continue to guide me.

May you continue being who you are and who God made you to be.   May God guide you into the new opportunities this coming year allows.  May you continue to love God and share that with others.  May you know peace and may your faith continue to give you strength.

Happy New Year.