Ninth Day of Advent: Commit

I figured there would be lots of wedding pictures for the word "commit" so I wanted something different. White water rafting. When you get into a raft and you head down a river, you are committed. This is not an amusement park ride (although once one is rolling on an amusement park ride, it's best to stay committed there as well).

There's a great deal of joy in white water rafting...if you're not petrified with fear, but if your guide slips down into the raft (as ours did -- the big guy is not our guide; the petite woman behind me is) or falls out (as the male guide did in another raft) or if you hit the rocks the wrong way (thankfully, we did not) then someone or everyone goes into the water.

It helps to pull together, but there are times when everything churns and splashes.

I look at these pictures now and think, "Wow! Maybe this was a bit above my skill level!" But, I also look back with gladness that I committed to that trip. I need to remember this when a commitment to kindness, courage, gentleness, beauty, goodness, love, faith, and hope look like something above my skill level. I also remember my Guide does not leave me, nor forsake me. Incarnated Jesus may sleep in the boat, but he does not accidentally fall into the boat or out of the boat. He knows how my life's rafting trip ends, and it ends well, safely in his kingdom. He is committed in love to each one of us. 

Eighth Day of Advent: Touch

Today begins the eighth day and the second week of Advent, the lighting of the candle that most often represents love. The word given for the #AdventWord pages is #touch. At first glance, I have a strange picture to show for "touch," that of the conception of a poem I wrote probably twelve years ago. The finished poem is typed up below the image.

To the Muse

You who taught Herbert to sing
      and Donne to love,
Who am I that You should visit me?

You who touched Mary and the Salvation
     of the world was conceived,
Dare I believe You would bring forth ,

Living words? Breathing Words?
     In me?

This is the first "public" sharing of this poem, and I feel quite vulnerable. To touch another is vulnerable, whether that touch is physical, emotional, or spiritual. We give something away of ourselves and hope that it will not be crushed.

A popular Christian song lyrics start off, "Love came down and rescued me; Love came down and set me free..." Love also came down as a vulnerable baby (but did not stay a baby) and is willing to meet us where we are the most vulnerable -- not to crush us, but to touch us with life and breath, with love and joy.

Seventh Day of Advent: Play

Play prepares our hearts for worship. Play, not as entertainment or competition, but a joyous movement of body and mind, prepares us to adore, to love in the highest degree, our Triune God.

True play is sheer gratefulness and joy in being alive. Our spirits release our grip on the world or fly free of the world's grip on us.

As adults we sometimes have to relearn how to play. We find it difficult to let go of the tensions of the day; we find it difficult not to compare or compete.

Thus, when we play, we practice those movements and thoughts that lead us deeper into worship. Here I am to worship you, Lord Jesus, knowing I can trust you with my life.

Photo credit: Melissa Jean Photography

True play brings joy in being alive with others and enables us to practice the joy that happens in communal worship. Then, having practiced and received joy, we are better able to give joy.

I have not given all the dictionary definitions and research I have on the value of play (dictionary on my left hand side; research on my right -- "Prone to research, Lord, I feel it..."), but, when the tensions of celebrating the perfect Christmas season weigh us down, I hope we will stop to play in joyful abandonment and worship of the One who brings us faith, hope, and love. 

Sixth Day of Advent: Light and Hope

No eyes were harmed in the taking of the picture above. Whether pointing my phone directly at the sun to take a picture of light will harm my phone and/or the camera within it, I don't know. What I do know is the reason why God wouldn't let Moses see the our Almighty Creator in full glory. Even looking at this picture, the brilliance is amazing, and this is a created light. What I am also thankful for is that God wants relationship with me, with us. Jesus does not hold us at sun's length.

I know so many have already used Madeleine L'Engle's poem in their blogs, but it bears repeating since it is that good.


He did not wait til the world was ready,
till men and nations were at peace.

He came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.

He did not wait for the perfect time.

He came when the need was deep and great.

He dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine.

He did not wait till hearts were pure.

In joy he came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.

To a world like ours, of anguished shame
he came, and his Light would not go out.

He came to a world which did not mesh,
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.

In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.

We cannot wait till the world is sane
to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,
He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!

-- Madeleine L'Engle "First Coming"

(With gratitude to a friend who got this from her friend and sent it to me!)

You don't see the word "hope" in this poem, yet I titled this piece "Light and Hope." Here is why:

This, too, is light. It is the light of my flashlight, or "torch" as I believe they say in the UK. It is human created light, and it is not perfect. Its light will go out. Batteries will need to be replaced as will the bulb. Still, it does shine and, given the proper care and maintenance, it can shine even if it is not the equivalent of the sun.

I see hope when I connect the picture above with the poem for two reasons: imperfect as it is, it is still light and we cannot wait until the world is sane to shine; and, the Lord came with Love, not waiting until we are perfect.

I am loved, and so are you.

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom is no fickleness, neither shadow of turning"
(James 1:17).

Fifth Day of Advent: Proclaim

Pastors, preachers, priests, must have a difficult time every year between Thanksgiving and New Year's. How does one teach a lesson that they've already taught before to the same crowd? I was a teacher, but at least I had a new crowd each year. However, I have written Advent posts before, and it was tempting today to just leave proclaiming to the picture below and resurrect an old post. 

What impelled me to write was Facebook. Yes, there's lots to dislike about social media, but, thus far, the Facebook organization allows the pages of deceased people to stay in circulation. (Stick with me here.) As I write this, I'm not deceased obviously. Yet a time will come when I am not here and it could be that my post will touch someone's life, just as saints of old made a difference in my life from an early age. 

Through stories of St. Teresa and St. Therese, the stories of St. Augustine and St. Francis, and many more, I learned how to have a relationship with God. I suppose some people cast off the relationship with God of their younger years as some friendship with an imaginary friend. I did not. The relationship was too real. And, I wasn't the only one who knew God existed. 

I did, however, like young Goodman Brown of Nathaniel Hawthorne short story fame, want to check out the wild side. I've learned that the wild side of God is quite an adventure, but back then, the world's wild side killed some of my friends and usually found me throwing up in a toilet bowl. Frankly, it just was not enjoyable. 

I cast my lot with the Christians. Now there are Christians, and there are Christians. One group follows rules and one group follows Christ. I'm trying to keep this proclaiming short, so let me just say that I know now what it is like to be in a community of those who follow Christ and his commandments: Love God; love others. 

When I ask myself, "Would you ever not believe in God?" I end up asking myself: "What do I do with situations that just can not be explained? One example: I had a dream, a detailed dream. The heart and soul of the dream was about an acquaintance (I didn't even know where he lived anymore) who I later found out was despondent, despairing, desperate, hopeless. God wanted him to know that he was loved by God and that he was not a failure.  I thought this is crazy: I can't contact this person. I don't even know if this email address is correct. Still, what if I wasn't crazy? I wrote out the entire dream (along with "please, please, please don't think I'm insane"). I received a long email back telling me the devastating failure that the young man had faced, a failure in his work that if it had not been caught by another could have led to tragedy. He was at the lowest point ever in his life. I can take no credit for reaching out to this person. Some of my teachers have rightly said that sometimes the only way God can get through to us is through dreams. If I were stronger in my hearing of God, perhaps God could have just flat out told me and I would have known what to do. Nonetheless, this was a situation that I can not explain away, and there have been others like it. 

My belief is also more than something I just proclaim or speak out. I trust Jesus not as my "get out of hell free" card, but as my friend and God whose salvation is for me daily. I was never one to think about a "life verse" but I guess I ended up with one anyway through a rather odd story that I won't tell here. 

"Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ; by whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God" Romans 5:1-2.  

Fourth Day of Advent: Listen

Not only did I struggle to find an image for today's AdventWord "listen", I also struggled to write an upbeat encouraging Christmas-y ("Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?") blog. Then, the picture I took (the second one below) when posted shows mostly the wall in the post! So, for purposes of posting, I am adding the picture directly below: Grandpa listening to his granddaughter while the youngest one listens to both.

We struggle to listen and be plugged in -- to God, to each other. Perhaps there are too many voices and too many noises for us to hear the Lord God's still, small (small in sound, quiet) voice, a powerful voice gentle and meek. Not like a baby's voice, as precious as the Christmas image of Jesus as a baby is. Yet when we quiet ourselves, we can hear Him, and in hearing Him, we can then hear the lonely, the lost, the hurting. We can hear Him say:

"But I say unto you which hear, Love your enemies, do good to them which hate you, Bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you....Love ye your enemies, and do good, and lend, hoping for nothing again; and your reward shall be great, and you shall be the children of the Highest: for he is kind unto the unthankful and to the evil. Be ye merciful, as your Father also is merciful" (portions from Luke 6:27-36 -- the whole passage is Jesus' amazing argument as to why we are called to love).

My friend in the picture above listened not only to this dear man play the piano in a shopping mall, but also listened as he told us his story. She brought a moment of joy to his lonely life. Her presence was a gift which said to him, "You are loved."

As we go about shopping during this Advent season, might we consider that the gift of listening is truly one that says, "You are loved." 

Third Day of Advent: Renewal and Hope in Christ's Name

Renew? Made fresh; the old made new? What sort of photo could I take this day to show "renew"? I didn't know anyone who was renewing their wedding vows today. Then, I glanced over at my Christmas Cactus.

This cactus is seventeen years old. It was given to me by a student when I taught fourth grade. It's a miracle that it is still alive (I'm not the best gardener.) The plant was surviving but not thriving as shown by the inner leaves on the lower left. Then, a cousin posted a picture of her Christmas cactus in full bloom. When I asked her how she encouraged the plant to bloom, she didn't do much to it except place it in a window with morning light. I changed my plant to the other side of the house (as shown in the lower righthand picture) and my plant was renewed!

I realized I have experienced that renewal in relationship with Christ and in relationship with Christ's people. This picture below is where I met with my classmates from Renovaré -- a French form of the word "renew".

I learned anew to place my hope in Christ's name and friendship, of Whom was written:

" But when Jesus knew [that the Pharisees held a council against him, how they might destroy him], he withdrew himself from thence: and great multitudes followed him, and he healed them all; And charged them that they should not make him known: That it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Esaias the prophet, saying,  Behold my servant, whom I have chosen; my beloved, in whom my soul is well pleased: I will put my spirit upon him, and he shall show judgment to the Gentiles. He shall not strive, nor cry; neither shall any man hear his voice in the streets. A bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax shall he not quench, till he send forth judgment unto victory. And in his name shall the Gentiles trust" (Matthew 12: 14-21). 

During this season of Advent (and indeed every season) I need to place myself in the Light of the One in Whom I trust, hope in His name, and be renewed.

#adventword #renew

2nd Day of Advent: Love and Waiting in Hope

In this four generation picture, love abides. My father has Alzheimer's. He doesn't remember my name but still remembers some of the time that I am family. He gets up in the middle of the night and doesn't know how to get back to his room. He doesn't like to take showers or baths. He is like a little boy, but he is a little boy who still knows what love looks like. 

My dad is "waiting in hope", another phrase for this advent day. 

"Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord...I wait for the Lord, my soul does wait, and in his word do I hope...My soul waits for for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning...for with the Lord there is mercy, and with him is plenteous redemption..." (from Psalm 130). 

And, when my dad does not remember to wait in hope, we stand in the gap and do the waiting for him. That's what love looks like. Love is a choice. We choose each day to love, to will the good of others. What is the good of others? Can't get much better than really looking at how Jesus treated people: patiently, kindly, courteously, humbly, wisely, gently, lovingly. Nothing can separate us from this love. 

"...neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (from Romans 8: 38-39). 

Yesterday's #adventword" "shine" was a struggle when the day was cloudy and "flexibility" was a more important word than "shine." Yet, this morning, the sun broke through! 

The sun doesn't always "come up tomorrow", because life's griefs are great, but I wait in hope knowing that God's love abides.

"And now abides faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love." 

The One who shows this perfectly is Jesus. This Advent season, I prepare not for the coming of a baby (wonderful as that advent is), but rather for the coming of Jesus who chooses me and chooses to be in relationship with me, with nothing separating me from His love. While I can not show this love completely, it does not stop me from following like a child after Him: loving God and loving others, waiting in hope. 

Shine

Last night, I carried my husband's computer out of the bedroom and sat it in the kitchen. In the kitchen, it could shine off and on to its megabyte hearts' content. As for me, I need the dark at night so I can sleep well; otherwise, this woman is not going to shine during the day.

Yet, the shine of humanity is seen best, like faraway stars, in the midst of darkness. What kind of darkness? To color a dark night sky, one chooses the deepest blacks and blues. But no crayon can literally illustrate the world where we need to shine. A gifted photographer can capture hate, anger, despair, discourtesy, ungratefulness, greed, malice, loneliness, poverty, injustice, hunger -- but he or she will do so by capturing looks, body positions, the story itself. The colors and use of or absence of light will be a part of that composition, but other clues are needed. Is that dark forest tranquil or menacing? Is this a dark night of my soul or the peaceful rest I need?

The man who grumbled at me in line at the grocery store might be going home to sit in deep depression; the woman smiling as she chatters away might be intensely lonely. Sometimes where I need to shine is easily identifiable and sometimes it is not. Most often I have found out that I have been a shining light in someone's life only after the fact.

Perhaps, if a candle could think, it would actually struggle to shine if it worried about whether it was shining, how far, how often, and how bright. Truly that candle is only shining because something greater than the candle set it aflame. So, too with me, Someone greater than I, sets me aflame. However, I'm not a candle and I do have control over my wick. I don't have time to let the man go ahead of me in line. (It is the Christmas season, after all, and I have so much to do!) That woman is fine: don't worry about listening or being present to her. After all, I'm only a little candle. Let the big candles do the shining.

I experimented with candle shine and I tried to research whether a big candle lights up a room more than a small candle. It didn't seem a discernible difference to me, but before I could track down all the research, life happened. I planned out some lovely "shine" pictures as I contemplated the word shine and embark on an Advent Adventure with #adventword : morning sunrise and a first day of Advent candle lit by my youngest grandson and his great grandfather. None of that happened. We woke up to rain; I could only find a dried up wreath in the Christmas storage and then I lost the special Advent prayer we were going to pray. Isn't that what life often is like? I seek the Hallmark moments (or now the Pinterest experience) and instead we are called to shine or look for shine in the midst of rain, during days of watching a father fall further into his Alzheimer's world, with dried up wreaths and lost plans.

It's dawning on me that the shine of God, like the sun (but greater than), can be seen even in the day unless clouds (of doubt?) hide it, and the Almighty I AM shines on believer and non-believer. I also see the shine of God in the midst of community. Today is not only the first day of Advent but also my birthday. My little church prayed a blessing specifically over me during service and while I have no picture of this special time, it will be a moment that shines out in my memories. The lack of traditional ways to represent "shine" also caused me to look for other ways to show shine.

I imagine that humanity looks to many sources for shine and even though I know this is a bit humorous using a pot of coffee to show shine, basically I was looking all over the house for reflected shine. Maybe it will remind me to not fall into the ways of worldliness (consumerism, materialism, egoism) to look for shine, but to look for how God shines in places and people where and who I think might not represent shine. And, often our everyday blessings do shine if we only look for them.

I am encouraged when I read one Advent printout that lists this first day of Advent as representing "unseen hope". To the one who is searching for the shine of this day, this season, this year, I pray for you glances of shine that remind you of hope that is not fully seen yet. Just in case you can see my husband's knee, he has had surgery and full recovery is not seen yet, but we have hope, and we have this precious shiny face in our lives as well as other people and moments for which I am so thankful (and can not possibly write of without making this blog yet longer).
#adventword #shine

At Least I Remembered to Take a Picture This Time

At least this time it's only hash browns which exploded all across the counter and floor, and it's not shattered glass. This time I was trying to break apart the hash browns that were frozen in a solid mass. Again, my first attempts did not result in disaster so I kept whacking the bag against the counter to break up the last solid pieces. Then, the bag exploded. 

I write this because, really, aren't most of our days (at least for those of us in countries with frozen hash browns easily bought at the grocery store) filled with mundane tasks, some of which go astray? Maybe you don't have as many kitchen mishaps as I do, but it gives you something to chuckle about. Or, the stories resonate with you: "I've had days like that." 

I write to lead me into deeper ways of thinking: I've realized that I multi-task when I cook. I like food. I somewhat like to cook. But, it's not a priority enough for me to focus on it. This, in turn, led me to think what my passions truly are, what do I focus on. 

I write to encourage others. In my last blog (see "shattered glass" in the first paragraph), I wrote about the opposite of loneliness: friendship. Friendship, whether with God or with others, involves "(1) spending time together, (2) learning about the other, (3) being honest and transparent, (4) learning to be a good listener, (5) allowing for changing and maturing views of the other, and (6) learning how to enjoy being silent together" (Gary Moon's forward in Trevor Hudson's book Beyond Loneliness as Moon quotes *James Martin's insights from **William A. Barry).  

Social media can not replace the face-to-face time, but it can be, when used in encouraging ways, be a moment in time where we can feel that we have been seen and heard and loved. I so appreciated the give and take when my own daughter posted her "When Days Seem Hard" It was just what one mom needed to hear so that she could pick herself up and begin again. 

Loneliness can't be cured by social media, blogs, etc., but I hope I can use technology positively to invite myself and others into a friendship with God (the great thing is God is available during poopy diapers, academic meetings, traffic jams...in other words all the time), and into exploring ways of friendship with three-dimensional people (did I choose the right term...lol...geometry was never a focus of mine). For me, it takes intentionality. To not give up when lives seem so busy. To look at my schedule and see where I can give up something simply time-consuming and replace it with friendship. I'm interested in the creativity used by others to build friendships (so feel free to comment), and, if you're interested in an online Beyond Loneliness online community (not as a substitute, but as a starting point), here is the link to the book club. 

*The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything: A Spirituality for Real Life by James Martin, SJ
** God and You: Prayer as Personal Relationship by William A. Barry, SJ

The Opposite of Loneliness

Lately I've been exploring loneliness. Some experiences come unbidden, but this one came by way of a book club...or so I thought as I read the opening pages: loneliness of leadership responsibility, loneliness of superficial relationships, loneliness of depression, loneliness of loss, loneliness without a face. Check and double check. Ready to take a quiz. 

All academic until I rode home after spending four days with my daughter, son-in-law, and grandson who live seven hours away from me. 

What a beautiful picture this is of community, fellowship, friendship IF it goes beyond the picture taking moments, right? Two days after this picture was taken, I had all those traveling hours to realize the loneliness of the loss I was experiencing. To be away from this family meant being with sons and granddaughters; to be with this family meant loss of time with the other family members. 

I've been learning lately how to ask questions of God rather than telling God how to run my world (imagine that!). So, I asked. And, I received: Be grateful. Yes, gratefulness did lighten my heart. Yet, what about the loss that can not be lightened by a visit: death of a loved one, death of a situation. So many thoughts came flooding in. And, God said, "Sit with me in it." 

Sit? Do nothing? It's not "doing nothing." To sit with God is to sit in friendship. To sit being heard, being seen, being understood. That, I think is the opposite of Loneliness. Not as an Internet search gave: "popular", "sociable" as the opposite for "lonely" (several sites had no antonyms for "loneliness"). One site "got it": "companionship" is the opposite of loneliness. 

I realize now how my world opened up when I sat with these thoughts. I see the value of the closing words of encouragement from my teacher, Trevor: "Admitting our loneliness, whether it has a face or not, can be liberating, hopeful, and life-giving. That's why I encourage others to face their loneliness and to be honest with themselves. At the beginning of this chapter, we imagined Jesus walking the streets where we live and saying, "Come to me, all you who are lonely, and I will give you friendship" (30-31). 

The Parable of the Shattered Baking Dish

This is all I have left of my baking dish -- one small shard that I found a week after I broke it. Actually, I shattered it into thousands of tiny pieces. Originally, it looked a lot like the baking dish pictured below. 

If I had a photographer's mind, I would have taken a picture of the aftermath of the dish's destruction: glass all across the stove, the counters, the floor. However, I was barely able to control my dismay let alone the dog who wanted to see what the explosion was all about. Instead I have a teacher's mind, and I thought: God, there must be a lesson in this. 

Of course, there was an obvious scientific lesson: Don't pour water into a hot dish. I actually knew that lesson, but I had poured a little bit of water and nothing disastrous happened. I had finished baking some squash, taken it out of the pan, and wanted the remains to come up easily. I poured a little water in and all was well. I poured a little more. Everything was lovely. Until it was not. I poured one smidgen of water too much and the dish exploded. I've broken dishes before. This was not just a broken dish. Teeny shards of glass flew everywhere. 

A second obvious lesson was the one where I got away with a little something I knew was wrong so I kept doing it until that awful moment when it caught up with me. However, that wasn't the life changing lesson. 

As I looked at the thousands of broken pieces, I realized no artist no matter how gifted could put my dish together. 

The caption for this artwork reads: "the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken." 

There are times in my life when this caption fits and it's a beautiful reminder. Yet, my heart went to thoughts of time and people where their "dish", their lives, seemed shattered beyond all repair. It made me weep until a series of "random" occurrences caused me to think about how God transforms. He is able to gather thousands upon thousands of broken pieces and make us new. We are still us. If I had gathered up all those pieces and instead of throwing them in the trash, I had melted them all together, all the particles of that dish would still be there. In like fashion, each of our unique DNA is still there. My pieces of shard still had some squash juice on them, and I wonder "Does God clean up every little shard?" That's a lovely thought. Or, does some of that become a part of us so that we in turn can love, comfort, and help others who are broken? 

These latter lessons carry me past weeping into hope. 

This song also came to mind, and I close with "Broken Vessels" by Hillsong.

Just For My London Cohort

Journeys, Pilgrimages, Paths

I first published this post privately on Facebook and a friend asked me if it was on my blog. It was not, so here it is for my friend and anyone else.

I felt like writing today, but it's funny how the finished piece turns out differently than first written in my head. I had to change the pictures I had first chosen as I thought about how on earth does one live her life the way Jesus would live it. My London cohort actually received this type of question during our first semester. We're stuck in an elevator with someone who asks us how to "put on Christ." Here is a portion of a fellow cohort's response: 

"Stranger: Hi...
Nick, nods.
Stranger: So anyway...I was just thinking, what does it mean to 'put on Jesus?' Is that actually possible?
He stares at Nick encouragingly. Nick says nothing.
Stranger: Well?
Nick: I'm sorry, I just find that incredibly difficult to talk about.
Stranger: Why?
Nick: Because I'm English. We never talk to strangers.
Stranger: Oh. I see.
Nick: I'm sorry. It's a genetic thing.
Stranger: Would it help if I told you that I'm not a real person? That I am, actually, an artificial construct created by a man called Gary in order to pose a question?
Nick: (Relieved and suddenly much more relaxed) Oh, in that case, fire away." 

I'm telling you my British genes grow stronger every day. I answered the question...in my own fashion...I pasted in my latest blog post at the time, a piece about "Expectantly Waiting Gone Wrong -- Day 11 of Advent." Made complete sense to me, but then it also made sense to me in elementary school to write about Santa, Greek mythology style. Have. always. marched. to. a. different. beat. 

My journey started prior to my two years of study. I read the article "Sleep Therapy" by Lauren Winner in 2006. No one had ever told me that I could stop working at a decent hour and go to sleep for 8-10 hours. Darn Puritan work ethic. Jesus wept, but Jesus also slept. Even in a storm. 

On that slippery slope to Christ-likeness, I also slowed down. Okay, so maybe freeway driving is still a work in progress, but I no longer run around as if I'm my dog chasing a squirrel. And, it is a life change that others notice because it has led to patience. I sat peacefully at the bank while they figured out how to wire pounds to a bank in England so that I could pay for my reunion stay. The bank folks kept thanking me and marveling at my patience. My response came out of several years of intentionally slowing down my pace because I trusted in Jesus that all would be well. 

The greatest change has come in the area of fear. All my life, fear has driven me. My children gifted me one year with a paranoia book. I never read it because there would be all those new things to fear! While fear can still occasionally grip me, I recognize it now. Fear no longer drives my life. I have now taken over 20 airplane flights! Fear of losing my job? Been there, done that. God sustained me. Yes, there are situations where the pool of tears are beyond my ability to cope, but God sits beside me and sends others to sit beside me. Here are three statements made in one of the final sessions at the reunion I just attended: 1) Over 1,500 x God says, "My people don't listen" 2) People are not finding listeners among Christians because we/they are too busy talking 3) In spiritual formation, we dare not forget: Listen. 

From my teacher: On this journey, "Remember, every person sits next to a pool of tears."

Sometimes we have beautiful sunny path days filled with green and flowers such as in the picture at the beginning of this post, but often days are filled with mud -- how deep and slippery it is differs for each of us.

The path with the elevation gain...ugh.

The path filled with logs: sometimes the logs are in the way; sometimes the logs are something to play on!

The path with seating in the midst of tears. 

"Will You Give Me a Drink?"

I realize what my title might imply, so I'm posting a picture of a well right here at the beginning. Not the best picture, and it's from Italy not Jerusalem. Here is another view.

During Lent, I'm following Jesus' life, and today I read His first words to the Samaritan woman at the well which are "Will you give me a drink?" Not "For God so loved the world that He gave His only Begotten Son," but, basically, "I'm thirsty. I have nothing with which to draw up the water. Will you give me a drink?"

To keep this blog real, I'm going to confess to any dear soul reading that my first thought of what to write next is rather snarky. Snarky -- "critical, cutting, snide, cranky, irritable." I know writing is all about not putting our first thoughts down, but you will have a picture of me that is not true if I edit to make myself look good. So, my unedited words read: "Gosh. Imagine that. Jesus, THE JESUS, God who created the universe, God who can change water into wine, takes the time and effort to ask the woman for a drink of water before accosting her with 'Hey, woman, you'd better believe in Me or else you're going to hell.'"

Jesus did indeed say in conversation with someone else, "For God so loved the world..." It was with Nicodemus, a man of the Pharisees, a member of the Jewish ruling counsel. Isn't it interesting that Jesus said it to a person who is the equivalent of our religious leaders? But, even with Nicodemus, Jesus did not start off with those words. Nicodemus initiated the whole conversation acknowledging Jesus as a teacher from God who did miraculous signs, and Jesus willingly stepped into the conversation with Nicodemus just as He did with the Samaritan woman.

This same woman has trudged to the well by herself, and she's taken aback that He's talking with her. He's obviously Jewish; she's obviously Samaritan, and the Jewish people do not associate with "those" Samaritans. Some translations even read: "Jews do not use dishes Samaritans have used."There are no paper cups by the well. Jesus is going to drink from the same container the woman would use.

I don't even drink out of a family member's cup so it takes much trust in God for me to drink out of a common communion cup! Years ago, in a small group of people, I heard Dr. Anthony Campolo tell how a homeless friend offered him a sip of coffee out of the same cup from which the homeless man had been drinking. Campolo drank from the cup. Who is a "Samaritan" to you and me, and would we drink from that person's cup? 

Jesus' answer, "If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water" is not chiding her. He's leading her thinking away from the lies she has been told about the inferiority of Samaritans, away from any thought of her unworthiness. He is introducing her to God who loves her so much, He is willing to give her living water just for the asking!

When our minds are baffled and boggled, our brains go back to a place of connection, something practical such as "Sir, you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water?" And, then basically, "Who in the world are you?!"

Jesus takes her to a deeper level. She's worth the conversation just as much as the religious leader Nicodemus was. And, she, the Samaritan woman does ask. Granted, she asks for practical reasons, but she does ask. Jesus then enters into her life, "Go, call your husband and come back."

To which she responds that she has no husband. With no condemnation, Jesus reveals how true she has spoken for she has had five husbands and the man she is now with is not her husband. Just as Jesus did with Nathanael ("I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you" which means He also heard what Nathanael had to say about people from Nazareth), Jesus gently reveals that He knows her life.

The Samaritan woman takes a different tack, perhaps to turn the conversation off of her life (understandable) or maybe she really is still confused and stuck: My people say this; your people say that.

Many pastors treat Jesus' response as if she tried to divert His attention and He brought her up short. BUT, Jesus not only answers her question, He also entrusts her with precious knowledge of what is coming: "Neither this mountain nor Jerusalem" and through His conversation with her, He reveals that true worshippers worship in spirit and truth, not on a certain mountain, nor in a certain city. Might there be wisdom here for us: true worshippers do not worship in our country alone (insert the name of your country), but they worship in spirit and truth.

I can't leave this story without saying to anyone who is feeling worthless today, Jesus loved the true Israelite Nathanael and the Pharisee Nicodemus, but He also loved the Samaritan woman, and it was she whose testimony led people to listen to Jesus -- "And because of his [Jesus'] words many more became believers [beyond the ones that believed due to the Samaritan woman's testimony]."

You are not worthless. You are loved. 

Follow the Leader or Simon Says

Did you ever play "Follow the Leader" when you were a child? I did. It was fun to see if I could copy exactly the actions of the child leading. "Follow the Leader" was different from the game "Simon Says." I have a few friends in other countries so let me explain "Simon Says." One person stands in front of the group and calls out an action to be taken. If this leader says, "Simon says," then we must all do the action (e.g. stand on one foot, put our right hand into the air, hop up and down), and we must continue to do the action until the leader calls out: "Simon says, 'Stop standing on one foot' " (or "Simon says to stop doing whatever he or she has told us to do). Woe to the child who does an action or stops an action without the words "Simon says" attached. To obey, "Stand on one foot" or to stop if he or she says, "Stop standing on one foot" will result in being cast out of the group...well, "cast out" is harsh phrasing. It is a game, after all. One has to sit out until there is only one person left playing, and that person wins the game. He or she has obeyed every "Simon says" direction and has not taken action or stopped taking action without the leader's "Simon says" command. 

One game is about following; the other game is about obeying what the leader says, no matter what the leader does. I never thought about the difference in the two games until two situations came into my life. 

In the first situation, I listened to a teacher stress obedience without touching on relationship with Jesus. Everything in me wanted to cry out: Oh wait until you are a mom! A child can obey with a horrible heart attitude. In a relationship between a parent and child, one really hopes for obedience; however, obedience does not build a relationship. A child fresh out of the womb can not obey. Yet, obedience does seem to be a favored topic of religious teachers. 

So let me bring up the second situation: On my second day of Lent in my journey with Jesus, I read of Jesus drawing to Himself His first disciples. The words out of His mouth are not, "Obey me!" Rather the words are "Follow me!" 

I wish I had thought of this when I was raising my children. If my child was about to run into the street or do something dangerous, I did want him or her to obey. However, doing something dangerous didn't happen daily. Yet, I used the word "obey" more often than I used the word "follow." Just as in the games mentioned in the first paragraph, obedience can be demanded no matter what the leader is doing while following requires the leader to do the action first. I realize history shows that people will follow and obey a leader straight into horrific actions against himself or his neighbor. Therefore, I'm glad Jesus walks the walk first. In fact, in His angriest moment, His anger falls on those taking advantage of the poor who are trying to obey the Jewish law of sacrifice. 

Jesus Himself says, "Follow me." We can go to weddings. We can talk with a religious intellectual. We can talk with a woman who no one else will befriend. And, in all of these situations we can offer love, kind wisdom, tranquillity, peace, serenity. 

Yesterday and the day before I wrote of a slave mentality. A slave has to obey. A person in relationship longs to follow. I chose today's picture of a time when my granddaughter was quite young because it pictures for me the joy she had in having me follow her, and the joy that I had in following.  

Building Bricks or Building Relationships? (Evensong by Kate Southwood)

Have you ever read a book that was depressing yet you knew it had elements of a classic? (No, not all classics are depressing.) I picked up this book in the new book section of the library because of the title Evensong. Evensong services in the churches I visited in the UK are beautiful. They are evening services filled with song of psalms, prayers, and canticles. I was looking for some lighter reading and I thought that this book would fulfill that need.

Alas, I'm in the same camp as reviewers who are conflicted about this book. However, let me start first with the classic elements of the book. Fans of Virginia Woolf and streams of consciousness will appreciate the spirit of Woolf and her style of writing in Southwood's novel. The evensong in Evensong is the song of her life which Maggie sings after a heart attack as she looks at the interplay of her present with her past. The prose is beautiful and may be the main reason I continued reading. When Maggie thinks upon her brother Porter (pages 12-13), Southwood's lyrical prose is so eloquent, I wanted to keep reading even though I already had the feeling that this story was going to be depressing. Indeed the character of Porter carries the main light notes in this story which throbs with the dark notes of Maggie's choices and the choices she feels are forced upon her.

I have not read Woolf since I was much younger, and now I'm wondering if I would find her novels depressing if I were to read them now. Therefore, I'm also wondering if this story would be best suited for a mid-aged reader (or even younger although my guess is that a college-aged student would have to be assigned the novel -- as many classics are -- just as I was assigned to read Woolf in college). The hope in reading the novel at that age would be to come up with better choices in one's own life than Maggie did in hers, and to make amends better than Maggie or perhaps sooner than Maggie does. Maggie's relational issues are as much caused by her as by her husband.

I must add the story carries lots of situations that could stir up emotions in those who have been through challenging childhoods and/or marriages.

I'm rating this at 2 stars. I noticed a comment from one reviewer to another asking whether the reviewer with 2 stars was doing so because of emotions or the writing. It was the feelings brought on by the book. While the book did not cause emotional problems for me, I still found it a sad book in spite of it's fairly happy ending, and my two stars are simply for "I didn't like it." The writing is excellent and I would be fine with it as a book discussion group choice (but I wouldn't be reading it again).

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I am placing the book review above on top of a Lenten post I had written two and a half years ago. I must have hit publish but never posted it on any public media. As I scrolled through my blog posts, I thought this review connected with this old post as Maggie's issues are clearly relational. So much of her life she built bricks rather than relationships. Her husband was sure in his knowledge and his being right. Maggie, on the other hand, was going along like the Israelites staying in a situation because she thought she did not have any other choice, and in some ways, Maggie does like her version of "leeks and onions". She has certain benefits to being married to her husband. With this introduction, instead of my usual 💕 (heart and family) section and spiritual formation section, I end with a discussion on building bricks or building relationships (and a great picture at the end of the blog post). It's not a perfect connection because it is about patience but I don't think Maggie's choices were about patience and tranquillity. Her choices felt as dysfunctional as her husband's choices. (Can you tell that I was mad at Maggie a lot?) Maggie does not come through for her daughters and she does not end up treasuring much in her heart until her granddaughter. Thank God for grandchildren!

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When in the land of Egypt the Israelites had to increase their brick production numbers, I imagine they tried to run through every piece of knowledge in their brains about making bricks. As a teacher, I endorse knowledge; there's no question about that. However, as I started my Lenten journey through the life of Jesus, I found myself reading and remembering what I've learned or felt in the past about the passages, rather than immersing myself in the story of Christ's life.

From the early chapters of the gospels of Matthew and Luke, I recalled how encouraging it was to read that Jesus "grew in wisdom and stature." Oh, I know He's fully human and fully God, yet it was lovely to see that He chose to grow as a human would grow.

Add in the early chapters of Mark and John, and I remember learning that Jesus fulfilled Jewish law in having two or more witnesses to his claim. I may not remember fully, but I believe it was the witness of John the Baptist, the witness of the I AM, the witness of the Holy Spirit. Later His miracles and works will testify to His claims.

Jesus also faced temptation, and my brain lets me down a bit. I recall the three temptations matching up to something. At the moment, I'm seeing that Jesus fasted 40 days and 40 nights. I feel like I should be making something of that 40 days and 40 nights, but my emphasis on getting the knowledge is beginning to feel more like the mentality of a slave -- learn the information so that I can pass the test of the Egyptian slave masters. Where is the joy, the tranquillity, the peace that God created us to have during times of Shabbat, during times of ceasing, during times of margin as in this season of Lent?

Interestingly, as I stumbled about trying to fit these thoughts down into some kind of coherent post, I momentarily gave up and picked up a devotional I have started reading this year (Hearing God Through the Year based on Dallas Willard's book and compiled by Jan Johnson). This is the Wednesday passage:

"When we do not understand the experience of biblical characters in terms of our own experience, we may stop reading the Bible. Or we take it in regular doses, choking it down like medicine, because someone told us that it would be good for us -- through we really do not find it to be so.

"The open secret of many 'Bible-believing' churches is that only a small percentage of their members study the Bible with the degree of interest, intelligence or joy that they bring to reading their favorite newspaper or magazine. Based upon considerable experience, I believe this is primarily because they do not know and are not taught how to understand the experience of biblical characters in terms of their own experience" (41).

I actually did enjoy what I read, but it was not relational. I was not making space for a relationship with Jesus. More or less, I was thinking like a teacher: how could this be taught...not caught...by me.

When I relaxed and brought all these thoughts before the Lord, what stood out to me was Jesus' mother Mary. Jesus astonished Mary and Joseph -- He confused them; He baffled them -- when He stayed behind in Jerusalem and they thought He was lost. Jesus knew what He was doing, but they did not. And, Mary "treasured all these things in her heart."

As a first step, to "treasure all these things" in my heart when I'm astonished, confused, or baffled with God or with others seems like a tranquil, loving, freeing practice. Times will come when action needs to be taken, but just as margin and active space makes a logo or picture stand out more, so too a margin of love blesses both a time of waiting and patience and a time of questions and discussion.

I did look for an image of bricks. This is much better, don't you think? And, the open pathway highlights the beauty of the community cottages. Enjoy.