Friday, November 29, 2013

Preparing for the Preparation - On Entering Advent


Advent begins Sunday.  Until last night, I was all hyped up on Thanksgiving and shopping, watching Facebook friends share their Christmas decorating and Hanukkah photos, and, to be honest, not really looking forward to entering into a season of waiting.  In my struggle to get into the spirit, I came across an article I wrote a couple years back for Working Preacher:  "Advent's Absurdity ", which helped me remember why we celebrate Advent.  And that it meets us wherever we happen to be when it comes.


Today I feel myself slowing down a bit, and easing in. So I thought I would share some ways to enter into Advent. 

Advent Wreath - In my house we light a candle in our Advent wreath each Sunday.
week 1 - Hope
week 2 - Peace
week 3 - Joy
week 4 - Love
We talk at dinner about what those things mean, where we see them, how we need them in the world. What it feels like when we experience them. Mostly it's a chance for conversation, and the candles remind us each week.


Advent Calendars - My kids have advent calendars- I put candy in little doors/drawers and little figures of the nativity scattered throughout, so they make a nativity scene gradually in the coming weeks.  


Advent Books - A friend wraps children's books (from the library?) and numbers them, one for each day of Advent, and her family opens and reads one daily in a countdown to Christmas.

There are books that have a little part to be read each day - or find a good storybook you like and read a little bit each night. We've found a big book with tiny book ornaments telling the Christmas story, one for each day, and we (mostly remember to) read and hang them on our tree.


Chains / crafts / projects - Making a paper countdown chain is another idea - ripping off a link each day and using it as an opportunity to say something we're thankful for, or sad about and want God to help with, or anything you want them to be. You could write a question on each one and have a conversation for each link. Or put on each one a person's name, or a place, or something else to hold in prayer together.


Pausing - Our church will be giving out 2 minute sand timers, to help people take two minutes a day to just stop and pay attention. To sit quietly in the presence of God with no agenda but simply to be.


What works for you this year? - There are SO MANY ways to celebrate, and what works for each family or person will be different.  

It comes down to this: Christmas celebrates that God came to share life with us - all of it, the good and the bad, and we are not alone. Anything we can do to remember that, or notice that we need that, or give thanks for that, or whatever else, is a good Advent practice. Anything that gets us more deeply connected with life and each other, is a chance to notice and celebrate God With Us.Take the pressure off yourself.  Enter in as much as you are able in any way you are able. 

Here are some more great resources for entering into Advent:  


ADVENT RESOURCES - (mostly adult, some whole family)

 Following the Star - daily online Advent devotional
Advent Music Project - song a day with reflection
Advent Photo-a-Day - join in and post photos on themes throughout Advent
Advent Conspiracy - help focusing on Advent
Alt Advent - wonderful daily mini-films from artist Jon Birch (purchase)
Coming Home to Advent - Godspace blog's daily Advent devotional
Taking Advent Home - pdf Advent booklet with scripture readings, reflections and activities
Advent in Art - Mark Pierson's daily advent reflections in art
Illuminated - online retreat with Jan Richardson daily through Advent (subscription)
Inconsolable Longings - reflections on Advent (using O Antifons) from Malcolm Guite
Advent Quiet Wednesdays - (In Minneapolis) at Lake Nokomis Pres, a place of peace and rest
God's Light in the Darkness - online, lectionary-based Advent reflections (More will be added as they come to my attention - feel free to check back.  Also, try following #advent on twitter and Facebook and see what comes up)!

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Gratitude (not politeness training)



Some of the most authentic and important stuff of relationships, like apologies or confessions or thanks, can come deeply truly from the heart, or they can be manipulation, or forced or coerced, from a sense of decorum or obligation.
In our house it often goes like this.
Me: “Here’s your toast honey.”
Long pause while they walk away with the plate in one hand, nibbling pieces off the edge with the other.
Me, with high voice: “Wow! Great looking piece of toast! Thank you, Mom!” 
Them, monotone: "thank you mom."
And then it's a lesson in politeness that doesn’t really allow for real gratitude to emerge.

But gratitude is core to being human, which is to say, being spiritual as well, because it pulls us out of ourselves to see and recognize others, to pay attention to our lives with wonder and reverence. It connects us to the God who made us.  When we give thanks we acknowledge our interdependence, and we seek to live fully in the lives we have been given.  
It stills and quiets us to receive what we already have.
Gratitude is important in every religion, and at the basis of every virtue.

Our text today is the law of Moses to the people of Israel who’ve been slaves in Egypt for generations, now learning what life is to look like and function like in the Promised Land. And gratitude, giving Thanks to God, is central to this life, together.  So essential that it needs tending.  It doesn’t seem to just happen spontaneously all the time.  It takes some practice, some learning. It sometimes needs structure.  So this part of the law sets up opportunities and structures, reminding the people that this is part of the deal, giving thanks, that it is part of life to notice and acknowledge what God has done, and to recognize how our lives are part of the story that started way before us and continues on after us.

But it’s tricky.  Because often our religion is like parent politeness training. 
Apologize for hitting your brother. 
Tell your sister you forgive her.  
Say Thank you to Grandma for the present.  
Give praise to God.

Tonight we are going to spend some time with gratitude.  Some time in gratitude.  
But I don’t want to talk to you tonight about gratitude. I don’t want to prompt you to say thank you or tell you why it’s important or give you pressure about how thankful we should all be.  We already know it’s important, and we already know we should be thankful.  Gratitude should not become another thing we feel guilty about not doing well enough.  That defeats the purpose altogether.

The goal of our time in worship tonight is NOT to be polite to God, or have a dress rehearsal for the “What are you thankful for?” conversations around the table on Thursday.

The truth is, while we need reminders sometimes, and structure too, we don’t have to work that hard at it, actually.  Because we’re hardwired for this. 
Gratitude is a basic human need, a natural human and deeply spiritual response that arises, unprompted, when we pay attention.
So, tonight, we are simply going to pay attention.

Tonight instead of discussing gratitude, we are going to experience it.  
I want you to let yourself feel, to notice what arises in you. 
Let yourself be surprised. Let emotions come. 
Notice what happens in your body as we proceed – a warming of the chest and an openness in the belly and heart.
Pay attention even to what happens when we pay attention.

For the next ten minutes I want you to simply be present here, be willing to notice. I am going to say a word or phrase and I invite you to write down the first things that come to mind. Don’t edit or force or direct – just let whatever bubbles up spill out in words on paper.

And dear reader, if you are coming across this online, instead of gathered with us this night in the sanctuary, please find some notebook paper and a pencil or pen.  Turn off your phone and find a quiet spot. This isn't something to read about, it's something to do.  Read each statement and spend one minute - no more - on each of one.  This won't take all day, just ten minutes, but you will be so glad you did this.

We will start with a moment of silence.

  • For my faith community, I am thankful for…
  • For my spouse, partner, or the person closest to me, I am thankful for… 
  • For my children or grandchildren, nieces or nephews, (or if you are a kid, for my parents), I am thankful for… 
  • For God, I am thankful for…
  • For my home, I am thankful for…
  • For my body, I am thankful for…
  • For the last year of my life, I am thankful for… 
  • For experiences of challenge, struggle or growth, I am thankful for…
  • For this world, I am thankful for…
  • Is there a category you wished would’ve been mentioned? Something that you felt gratitude for during this time? Take a moment now to jot down anything else you would like to express thanks for…

….

Now I want to take a minute and give you a chance to read back over your list.  Let yourself pay attention to the beauty, the wonder, the gratitude. Let yourself feel what you’ve written down.

….

Prayer- Gracious and loving God, we hold these gifts of life together with your Spirit.  We acknowledge your presence in everything.  We thank you God, that there is so much to be thankful for. Amen.

I want to invite you to take a pile of stars, and looking over what you’ve written, choose a few things you’d like to publicly acknowledge in gratitude, and write a word or phrase on a star to represent each of those.  For our prayer time, we are going to come to the table with our thanks, and these will become part of our Advent Wondering.
As the instructions in Deuteronomy say, (paraphrased),
God has brought us through great struggles, and has blessed us with great joys, all of this is part of God’s wonder.  So now, in response, we bring our gratitude and thanks to you, O God. 
And you shall set it down, and bow before the Lord your God.
And so, that is what we will do.


(Shared with gratitude for my colleague, Rev. Phil GebbenGreen, from whom this exercise was adopted and adapted.  Thanks, Phil!)



Sunday, November 17, 2013

Sabbatical Reflections: The Questions and the Bread




Two weeks ago, I got to hear some of what sabbatical was for you. Today I want to share with you some of what sabbatical was for me.

Sabbath and sabbatical, is time stepping outside of working for the “food that perishes,” and instead deliberately seeking the “food that endures for eternal life.” - which is tricky since this food you can’t work for; this food can only be received.  

Receiving this eternal food, this life-giving, thirst-quenching, hunger-satisfying food is not something we can work at; it’s not something we can do.  The most we can do is pay attention.  And maybe stop long enough to notice that the God who came down from heaven and gives life to the world is right here in life alongside us.  
I am the bread of life, Jesus said. 
How can we receive you, Jesus?

You all lived in questions this season.  Questions that guided your reflection and gave you a lens to watch your life for signs of God’s presence.

As it so happens, two questions turned out to be significant for me over this sabbatical.  They had been important for my children, first. 
Last year, when Maisy started kindergarten she was understandably nervous and afraid.  I told her before she went to school the first day that God would have a surprise for her, and she needed to watch for it.  At the end of the day I would ask her what that surprise was.  And then I prayed, Please God, give her a surprise today.  (Don’t leave me hanging here!)

That first day she came home with a paper frog on her head and a huge smile on her face and she said, Mommy you were right! I did have a surprise! And she proceeded to regale me with tales of some new friend, a special art project, a moment of bravery, an unexpected treat. 

Each day after that, as she came home with an answer to the question, How did God surprise you today? I began to grow more confident asking the question, and she never doubted she’d have an answer. 
God really would meet her each day. 
Could she and I practice noticing it? 
The question became a staple for Maisy, and she began bringing it up unprompted, so that by the middle of the schoolyear it was her practice to bounce up to me after school with her backpack on and say, Mommy, guess what my surprise was today?

So this year, when school started a third of the way into my sabbatical, we revived the question for both kids.
And it was not always easy. Some days we’d really have to search for the surprise, hearing events of the day laid out in excruciating detail before one of us would eventually say, Aha! There it is!, Other days there were so many moments of unexpected grace it was not possible to name just one or two.

After a few days, adjusting to new classrooms, missing friends, remembering times when we saw someone lonely or teased, feeling lonely or worried ourselves, another question joined the first, and it was, “Who did God bring across your path that needed kindness today?” 

And so every school day ended with, How did God surprise you today? And who did God show you needed kindness today?

Asking these two questions assumes that God is living and active in our lives already, and our job is to pay attention.   It also assumes that God is inviting us to be part of what God is doing in the world, and our job is to pay attention. 

This second question, we found, is a little harder to answer.  Who today needed kindness and love?  This kind of paying attention means looking beyond yourself, and it’s sometimes uncomfortable.
Sometimes we’d look back and we did in fact show kindness – we recognized the person in the moment and we responded – listened to God’s prompting and in courage, reached out somehow beyond ourselves to meet them right then. 
Other times, more often, perhaps, we’d see them after the fact and realize we didn’t notice them at the time, or didn’t let it sink in, or held back from responding for whatever reason. 

Sometimes we’d realize later that someone we had already shared a conversation with, laughed with, sat with, or walked home next to may have been that person, and without even trying to, we had shared kindness or love and been part of what God was doing. 
And once or twice, we saw ways that one of us was that person and someone saw us and shared our place, and showed us kindness and love.

I was sharing these experiences with my spiritual director- whom I saw every other week throughout my sabbatical.  I told her how meaningful it was to help my kids think through their days, to watch them pay attention. To see them see Jesus.
I had also just spent a half hour joyfully sharing experiences of spontaneous conversations, moments of giving, how available I felt to people and how open I felt to my life’s bumping up against others. 
She smiled at me and said, “I wonder what it would be like for you if you asked yourself the same questions you ask your children each day?”

When she said that my mind was flooded with images of how those two questions had lived in me over the past several weeks, and nearly every day – even without deliberately asking them – I had standout experiences of being surprised by God in little ways, and coming face to face with people to whom I could show kindness and love, (which were often the same moments).
Rejoice, again I say rejoice!
The Lord is near.

You are the bread of life, Jesus.
You are there, feeding us in all times and places. 
Do we notice?

Here’s the thing about Sabbath and sabbatical – it’s not a long term plan, a permanent state.  It’s a step outside the regular pattern on purpose.  What I mean is, we don’t live in Sabbath time in order to always live in Sabbath time.  We live in Sabbath time so that we might notice.  So that we have had some practice tasting, hearing, seeing, noticing, undistracted by work and all the things we do that give us value and make us feel good about ourselves and fill our minutes with stuff and our space with busyness and our minds with worry.
We try it out in stripped-down mode, a low tech, acoustic version of life for a short time so that we can get familiar with the tune, familiar enough that in the long haul we can pick it up and hear it still, underneath the layers of relentless noise and constant feedback. 

Sabbath and sabbatical remind us that God is with us.  They remind us that life is a gift.  By saying a great big strong NO to lots of things for one day, or three months, or two intentional hours, we begin to see that we can say no to more things and still be ok, maybe be more ok. 
Sabbath and sabbatical teach us to rejoice because they help us recognize how much there is to rejoice about when we’re not rushing past it all.  They teach us to bring everything, in both pleading and gratitude, to God, because they show us that God is already there in it with us.  The bread of life, giving life to the world.

How did God surprise you today?  Who today needs kindness and love?
So here are some of my answers.  On my sabbatical, here are just a few of the times I felt God surprise me – which is to say, times I noticed:

  • -       Sitting across from third graders, one at a time, once a week, on a short chair with my knees in the air, in the school library, listening to them tell me in their own words all about a book they’d just finished reading. 
  • -       Walking home from dropping my kids off at school and chatting with a mom I know a little bit, in a conversation that turned real and bumped up against grief and loss, and being able to say, Do you want to get a cup of coffee? and spending the next two hours listening and sharing and crying and talking without anywhere else to be but completely and fully there.
  • -       Moving clay beneath my hands silently, my body focused and mind relaxed, listening to others talk around me like water washing over me, feeling hidden and incognito and lost in the rhythm of the work with no agenda for mastery or completion.
  • -       Inviting some tired and busy moms over for lunch, setting a beautiful table in the sunshine with nice dishes and a tea and cookie pairing for dessert, and watching them settle in and laugh till their sides ached and stay two and a half hours longer than they had meant to.
  • -       Walking out on sand flats where the tide receded from the rocky shores of an island in the Puget sound, hunting for shells with a plastic bucket in one hand and my daughter’s hand in the other, sprayed by clams and smelling saltwater and eventually being nudged back to shore by the returning water creeping up around us and filling in our footprints
  • -       coming home from a day of site seeing to a night of good food and good wine with friends who normally live a continent away but for this one week are right here under our own roof
  • -       holding my baby nephew and watching his eyes droop closed and his body relax as he falls asleep in my arms
  • -       Starting a time warp of a day wandering the house with a cup of coffee and pulling out our old, falling apart wedding album from its box onto the floor next to the replacement album never filled, and hours later standing, stiff and achy, and throwing on a sweatshirt and hat for a joy-filled dog walk that came upon the children leaving school, and ended with all of us strolling home together to sit down and see the story of mom and dad’s wedding day  – maybe for the first time – all without ever really officially changing out of my pajamas 
  • -       Creeping up on a napping buffalo on a hillside in Yellowstone Park 
  • -       Peering down from a snowy mountain peak off the Beartooth highway at a shimmering winding river far below, 
  • -       Looking over at my husband’s face as he sings along with the radio and we’ve got nothing but road ahead and road behind and vast emptiness all around. 
  • -       reading with my son
  • -       drawing with my daughter
  • -       crying with my sister
  • -       laughing with my mother
  • -       Listening to music – on purpose, not just in the background. 
  • -       Falling asleep with a soft, snoring puppy nuzzled against me.

It’s not that these things are out of the ordinary, though I suppose in one way many of them become out of the ordinary for many of us, because these kinds of things require surrendering to time, instead of fighting with it.  They are sabbatical/Sabbath gifts – received when we’re willing to slow down and accept them.

But it’s not that the surprises from God in my sabbatical days were anything extraordinary.  It’s simply that I noticed them.  
I looked at them and gratitude caught in my throat.  I felt the grace of them.

One of my favorite things Frederick Buechner ever said is, “Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is.  In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace." 
(From Now and Then: A Memoir of Vocation)

He’s talking about filling up on the bread of life. 
Sitting down to the banquet of it all and unabashedly eating, unselfconscious and unconcerned with whether you belong there, or where else you need to be at the moment, or if it’s ok to ask for seconds.  Just enjoying.  Tasting each bite.  Feeling the thank you well up in your eyes.  Bumping shoulders with the person next to you and sensing yourself a part of it all.

Thank you for my sabbatical. 
Thank you for the chance to practice living in the questions. 
Thank you for the extended time to tune back in to the grace so I can better listen for it every day. 
Thank you for sharing Sabbath and sabbatical with each other, so that together we can continue to ask,
When this week did you taste the bread of life? 
Where did you see Jesus?
How will God surprise you today?
And who today needs kindness and love?
May we pay attention. May we notice and receive.


Amen.

Friday, November 15, 2013

Compassionate Communication



My dear friend Theresa Latini, has co-authored a book called, Transforming Church Conflict: Compassionate Leadership in Action, about compassionate communication (also called Non-Violent Communication) - a practice that has significantly impacted me, my family, and the church community in which I minister.

The folks over at ecclesio.com have been running a series of articles about her book this week, and today's article is a bit of how compassionate communication is shaping me as a pastor, and shaping our ministry together at Lake Nokomis Presbyterian Church.

You can read the article here:
Rooted and Grounded in Love: When a Church Embodies Compassionate Communication

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Questions that hurt





A few years ago I came across something online called “Eternal Earthbound Pets;” pet insurance for the rapture. For $135 for the first pet (and $20 each additional at the same address), a group of well-meaning and well-organized, animal-loving atheists will care for your pet for the duration of its life, if you are raptured up to heaven in the end times. 

The frequently asked questions page considered such things as,
“How long will it take someone to get to my pet, after the rapture happens?” 

“Since we assume chaos will reign immediately after the rapture, we can make no precise predictions as to response time, but have committed certified atheist pet rescuers in a certain mile radius from our clients.  Your animal will be rescued in as timely a manner as possible and after no more than 12 hours.”

“What if it turns out a relative of mine is left behind and wants to care for my pet?”
“Unless otherwise specified, unraptured relatives will have the right to claim and care for your pet, but if they choose not to, we guarantee to fulfill the contract and provide quality care for your earthbound pet.”

This arrangement struck me as a delicious win-win for all involved.
For Christians planning to be raptured, what a great service this is!
And sure, it’s a bit of a gamble, because while the end times certainly could come in our lifetime, there is no guarantee – so you may be out $135.  But isn’t it worth $135 for the peace of mind that you have knowing you’re a prepared and responsible pet owner?  Because really, who wants to come into glory worrying about poor Fido starving to death back home in a post-apocalyptic nightmare?
How much better that all the doomed humans fighting it out against the anti-Christ and his evil minions have something good to occupy themselves with besides their own too-late and terrifying circumstances? 

(Although, if we’re completely honest, it’s a bit of a double bind, because of course, you’d like everyone to be saved, and you’d may even make some effort in this life to share the gospel with as many people as possible, but secretly, you hope that if anyone is stubborn and unfortunate enough to hold out on God it will be your pet-rescuer.  What a disaster it would be if, when gathered in the golden streets at the throne of our Lord and Savior, you were to turn your head and see your certified atheist pet rescuer standing right there next to you among the saved?  God-forbid!)

Thankfully, because the atheists involved sign a contract guaranteeing they do not believe in Jesus Christ as Lord, and are in fact committed avowed atheists, mutual trust joins mutual stereotyping to create this almost foolproof system and you, and Fido, will probably be all right.

But let us not forget that is a win for the Atheists as well!  Those who volunteer to care for the pets of raptured Christians, of course, have nothing to lose and everything to gain, since in their mind they will never be called to fulfill this extreme and, let’s face it, kind of big commitment, as they do not believe such an occasion will ever actually arise!  It’s a small gamble for them too, because of course, they could be wrong, but they’re preparing for that, so all in all, pretty risk-free, if you think about it.[1] We’re all just anonymously benefiting from each other’s faulty belief systems.

That is what the Sadducees question to Jesus today reminds me of. Supposedly high stakes, but utterly risk free questioning.

Sadducees were in charge of the temple. They were educated and devout- united with Pharisees in their hatred of Jesus, but divided from them over many other things, including belief in resurrection. The Sadducees saw authority only in the Pentateuch, the first 5 books of Scripture, believed to be written by Moses. And since the Pentetuch doesn’t mention anything about it, resurrection after death must not be real.

The stage is set.

And now the Sadducees approach Jesus with a riddle of sorts, a real stumper.  And the catch is, they’ve got nothing at all invested in the answer. They don’t even believe in resurrection to begin with! It’s a nothing to lose question for them.

So here goes the question.

Woman’s husband dies.  Law of Moses says the brother should marry to continue the family line for the husband. Brother marries. Brother dies childless. Second brother marries.  Dies childless.  This goes on seven times, (one bride for seven brothers). Now in the “resurrection,” they say, whose wife will she be?
You can imagine, when they’re finished setting up the scenario, that the listeners and onlookers are silent and grinning, watching the hot ticket rabble-rousing Rabbi Jesus as he is confronted with this resurrection-busting question, “Oooh! What’s he gonna he say?!” 

But something goes awry.
Jesus doesn’t take the bait.
Instead he goes underneath their whole argument to the very foundation of what’s real, what’s at stake for us all.

Those who belong to “this age” Jesus says, deal with this marriage thing.  But in the age to come there will be no need of it.
In other words, this thing we call marriage? This social contract to protect widows, this mechanism to continue the family line, this law to preserve and protect people? That’s completely irrelevant and unnecessary in the resurrection.  In fact, Life itself will not be recognizable. 

With our limited imaginations, and locked inside time and space, and our own human constructions, we can’t even begin to fathom that life means anything other than what life means to us right now.
The Sadducees assumed life eternal just means this, only longer.  This, forever and ever.  More eating and sleeping and working and raising kids and paying parking tickets and planning anniversary parties and feeding pets and seeing chiropractors and asking for raises.

Once, as I was planning a difficult visit that dearly I wanted to go well, a wise friend reminded me not to keep adding days on in attempt to make it go better, “Kara, remember, it’s not about quantity, it’s about quality.”

Resurrection makes that shift, taking us out of quantity and into quality. It alters substance completely, it changes all the rules, not merely a never-ending quantity of the same lurching efforts, it is qualitatively different than life as we know it.

The resurrection is, to the Sadducees, just an idea, something to argue over, something to debate, something that separates them from the people around them, the fools, who believe in this silly notion, and something which others, who do believe in it, can use to judge them. It’s hypothetical and risk-free, and ultimately requires nothing from them.

And there is so much irony in this moment, not least of which is that when Luke reports this story, the temple itself, meant to last forever, is gone, and along with it, the role of its caretakers, the Sadducees; there is no more need for them. They have fallen out of collective consciousness enough that Luke has to remind his readers who they were and what they believed.  And yet, here they stand in their time-groundedness, throwing around their hypothetical arguments as though they’ve got no skin in the game of life and death.

No way is resurrection real and dangerous; they’re confident of that.
What’s real is this business of people dying – that’s indisputable. Marrying and being childless are real. Having mouths to feed, a legacy to leave behind, a widow to care for.  Dying young with nothing to show for it, being forgotten generations later, that’s frighteningly real.
What’s real is that each of them is making their way in the world in their own connections and isolation, loss and fears, relationships and obligations, duties and dreams, and the cold hard truth it all comes down to that ultimately, every one of them, like every one of us, will one day die.  And the truth is not a single one of us knows what happens after that.
And instead of bringing questions from those real and vulnerably places, they stand there with their clever riddle, and it is inconceivable to them that resurrection would have anything to do with you and me right here and now. 

But Resurrection, it turns out, is the realest thing there is.
And he is standing in front of them.
The most gripping irony of all in this conversation is that the one whom they question about hypothetical resurrection, is in fact the real embodiment of it. The love of God alive and in the flesh. They can’t imagine or accept that there is anything beyond the life we see and know here and now, even though right here and now, God eternal is in their midst.

And then he says this startling and wondrous thing: God is the God of the living, not the dead. God is the God who comes in and shares life.  God brings life out of death, is always creating anew, takes what is dead and shaping new life. The God of the living is with us, even now, as God is with all those who’ve gone before, whose lives are taken into the living one as well.

Our faith, our trust, our hope, is not in something that we guess or argue may or may not happen after we die.  It’s not in our own strength of belief or lack of doubt, our foolproof arguments or racked up good deeds, our hope is not in any other form of insurance we’ve got for our own souls, or for those we love, to make sure we’re not overlooked now or left behind one day.  Our faith, our trust, our hope, is in the living God, the God of the living, who is deeply invested in life with us, who’s got skin in this game.

And one day, when time is no more, these broken and patched together systems we’ve set up in this life to try to ensure people’s security, protect people’s humanity, offer a chance at something like wholeness, will cease to be. They will not need to be. The barriers to wholeness will be torn down, and with them our meager human attempts to create, uphold, or mirror it. 

So, whose wife will this hypothetical (and may I add, unfortunate) woman be when all is said and done? They ask Jesus.
In other words, Whose property? Whose responsibility?  Questions of status quo. Questions of the dead. Questions of theory and making do, and life going on forever just exactly like it is now.
Not whom will she love? Who will she share her deepest self with, who will accept and know her, who will she embrace and uphold? What might life be like when all the dying is past? Who is with me in my losses and when I think I can’t go on? Not questions that face their own humanity and hers, not questions of the living.

My friends, he answers, you misunderstand, completely. 
Marriage, he says, is part of this side of things. 
In its very best manifestations, it is a sacred covenant between us and God that tries to surround and protect here in the temporary realm, something of the eternal. It creates a vessel that can hold and tend the eternal core of it all, which is love. 
But love itself is what abides.  Love, wholeness, life, each person fully known and completely cared for, each person joyfully contributing, and the harmony and balance of all things once again in sync, as we live side by side and face to face with our Creator.  Life - completely, qualitatively different.

So instead of the risk-free questions that require nothing from us, the ones that that separate us out from each other and let us walk away unscathed and unaffected and unseen, let’s ask the real questions, the ones that shake us to the core, that fill us with hope and dread, that bring us face to face with ourselves and each other, and the anxiety of not knowing.  
 The God of the living is with us in life. 
And Resurrection happens. 
So we might as well raise the life and death issues, the things that make and break us, the places of death that cry out for life.  Let's ask the questions that hurt.
Because whether we realize it or not, friends, we’ve got it all invested. Everything.
Like it or not, we’re all in. 
 And so is God.




[1] The owner of the site was recently forced to publically declare it as a joke, admitting that it began as a kind of social experiment and was not real, when the New Hampshire Department of Insurance subpoenaed him to come in discuss complying with insurance policy law and register the product. Since then the site has, unfortunately in my eyes, closed down business.  But it tapped into a market, and now there are several altruistic, all-volunteer versions of the service available to fill in the need if and when it should arise.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Sabbatical Reunion

My sabbatical has ended, and today I returned to worship with my community.  

When we arrived at the church building, the first thing we noticed was a brand new bike rack and trash can on a new mini patio, paid for by a grant and installed with the ingenuity and sweat equity of congregants.


The second thing we noticed was our littlest friends - babies who had been "in arms" when we left for sabbatical at the end of July were walking - all over the place.  Their gleeful faces and lurching Frankenstein jogging about filled the halls and sanctuary with life. It was a real marking of time passed - three months is long when it's a quarter of your life!

Worship was a lovely easing in - I began the service simply receiving and participating, sitting in the congregation with my family while others led. I then came forward to lead prayers and communion, and ended with the benediction.  It felt so good to bless my people again!

The sermon time was a reflection on sabbatical, by two members of our Sabbatical Task Force, Lisa Larges and Ben Masters.  The congregation has been intentionally in this sabbatical as well, living in questions together around the themes of sabbath, renewal and rest.  Their journey is manifested in an ongoing art installation on the wall.





In their message below, Lisa and Ben drew from Habakkuk 2:1-3  and especially Ephesians 1:1-23.
What a gift it was to hear some of the thoughtful and honest reflections people have shared with each other over the past three months.
Here is what they shared:

Dear Lake Nokomis Presbyterian Church and Pastor Kara,

We have noticed that Paul wrote letters to churches. 
People don’t do this anymore. 
So we thought we’d bring back the trend.
For the past 3 months and a little more, we have been a part of the Sabbatical Task Force. 
Three months prior to our Sabbatical adventure in August we planned and plotted for our pastor to take a break and for our church to go on its own form of Sabbatical.

Maybe you remember from back then that some ways of thinking about Sabbatical were: as a time to pause, a time to listen, a time to renew. Like a long Sabbath Sunday, stretched over thirteen weeks.

In his letters to churches, Paul showed the church to itself. 
He held up a mirror and said what he loved about them and what about them drove him crazy. In his own way he tried to do what God asked of the prophet Habakkuk: to write down the vision of what God has done and will yet do, and to write in letters large enough so that even the person going to and fro delivering messages can read it while running.

On this Sunday, at the hinge of Sabbatical and what comes after sabbatical, we wanted to write you this letter and hold up a mirror to reflect the beauty of Lake Nokomis Presbyterian Church and the traces of God’s presence among us. 
This is a letter about our journey through Sabbatical. 
We hope you hear in it both the echoes of where we have been together, but also hints of where we might be going and growing together.  
This is a letter full of your words as much as ours, garnered from the emerging art exhibit of responses to Sabbatical questions each week. If you haven’t already, go read them after the service.

To save us the trouble of coming up with a totally original piece, we also borrowed from Paul a bit.

So, dearest folks,
From the time we first heard of your faith in Christ Jesus, Lake Nokomis, and your love for all the saints, we have never stopped thanking God for you and remembering you in our prayers. 
We pray that the God of our Savior Jesus Christ, the God of glory, will give you a spirit of wisdom and of revelation, to bring you to a rich knowledge of the Creator.

In your Sabbatical answers we traced the lines of thanksgiving:

  •      What was the best rest you got this week? Watching my wife spend quality time with her aunts and uncles last weekend. This was obviously special to her, and precious to me.
  •      What ordinary act became sacred for you this week? My granddaughters have been visiting; I see and feel god’s blessing through their love.
  •      What was the best rest you got this week? Sitting on an open porch watching a humming bird a foot away, going from flower to flower in a window box until all are drained.
  •      When have you felt held in God’s abundance? Today, my Grandson Nick was with us. The day began early with the chance to make and share breakfast; time in the garden, harvesting and getting ready for winter; time to preserve and make and enjoy.
  •      What was the best rest you got this week? Lying on the grass taking 10 minutes to rest before going to the next thing.
  •      Where have you felt God’s grace? God’s embrace was embodied in three generation hug. Contemplating family.


Before the world began, God chose you in Christ to be holy and blameless and to be full of love.  Chosen in love, love was everywhere in the responses you gave:

  •      When have you been held in God’s abundance? Through the birth of our children and the continued celebration of all they do and all they are.
  •      What distracts you from God? Being tired, getting frustrated with kids.
  •      What ordinary act became sacred for you this week? A nice long visit with Lee before he leaves.
  •      What was the best rest you got this week? Right now in silence with people I love having done good physical work.
  •      Where in your life do you need renewal? In my children, to receive the gift of human fullness they offer me daily.


You, we, the church—we are Christ’s body: we are "the fullness of the One who fills all creation."  In your words we were reminded again and again of the fullness of life in community:

  •      When have you felt God’s healing peace? In good friends holding me accountable to self care.
  •      What does being humble mean to you? I’m not the best at my job; in fact, no one is. There is no one right way.
  •      When have you felt God’s healing peace? When Ani came to pick me up in the rain, and brought me in to a warm house with laughter around the table.
  •      What ordinary act became sacred for you this week? Reading the daily casualty report from Afghanistan.
  •      When has someone lightened your burden? By bringing me out of myself. Those who encounter me in random walks around town: The musician, the greeter, the complimenter, the smiler, the playing child, or laughing parent.


Lake Nokomis, "We pray that God will enlighten your hearts to recognize the hope this call holds for you."
For we found hope bursting forth in the words you wrote:
  •      Where have you felt God’s grace? Hearing my daughter’s voice, free of stress and anxiety, and full of joy!
  •      Where in your life do you need renewal? I want my eyes to be opened to the gift of my children, to my marriage as a gift
  •      What ordinary act became sacred for you this week? Watching and caring for grandchildren
  •      Where have you felt God’s grace? Worshipping with Familia de Fe, despite not understanding Spanish, God’s presence was through rhythms of worship and God’s people.
  •      What ordinary act became sacred for you this week? Shopping I encountered a woman whose daughter was entering cancer treatment; pray for Karen
We pray also that you recognize the great power that God exercises for us who believe. Dear LNPC, you can know this from the strength of God’s power at work in Jesus.
These are some of the ways you named and noted God’s power alive and at work:

  •      Where do you go to spend time with God? I close my eyes, I read the gospels. I picture Jesus smiling at me.
  •      What ordinary act became sacred for you this week? Saying goodbye and godspeed to people we love.
  •      Where do you go to spend time with God? Silent space
  •      Where have you felt God’s grace? On Saturday, feeling very lonely, a friend called, and we talked for an hour, and I was good the rest of the day.
  •      Where in your life have you experienced God’s healing peace? In the death of my only biological sibling.
  •      Where do you go to spend time with God? Within, although, it’s more a making space and being open to the presence of God.
It is in Christ and through the blood of Christ that all of us have been redeemed and our sins forgiven, so immeasurably generous is God’s favor.  This Sabbatical time gave us opportunity to remember what it means to be a forgiven people:

  •      What is something you’d like to let go of? Anxiety—the need for information and control.
  •      Where did God surprise you this week? I learned that I often let my own agendas get between me and connection with other people.
  •      What distracts you from God? People I am unhappy with, work, petty differences, fatigue
  •      When have you felt held in God’s abundance? Today, my own plans to be active were superseded by God’s plans that I nurse and tend a hurting child.
  •      When has someone lightened your burden? So simple, so random, so nice, walking the dog, two people stopped to adore the dog, and one complimented my clothes. The burden lifted? Aloneness.
  •      Where did God surprise you this week? A coworker who trusted me in an unexpected way.
 When you heard the Good News of salvation, the word of truth, and believed in it, Lake Nokomis Presbyterian, you were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit.  Through the pathways of colored paper, in the winding reflections of the answers that shaped our Sabbatical time, the Spirit was in all of it:

  •      When did God surprise you? During the hail storm, right after I prayed the sun came out. I was surprised. I also felt I was in a bunch of comfort.
  •      When has someone lightened your burden? I remember being picked up in the wilderness at negative 40 degrees by a very poor family
  •      Where do you go to spend time with God? In nature, but I more often find God when I am in transit, or in transition.
  •      When has someone lightened your burden? When I was sitting in my car out of gas on 35W and a man gave me a ride for gas, and insisted on bringing my dog too, so she would not be alone.
  •      What ordinary act became sacred? When I got my haircut this week, my hairdresser talked about her home in Syria. And she called me the next day to tell me how much she loves me and would miss me
  •      When has someone lightened your burden? Outside South High School a 72 year old woman struck up a conversation with me as she waited for the bus. She told me about raising her kids and working fulltime and how she had always played the flute in community band. “Always keep something for yourself,” she said, as she got on the bus.
God has taken pleasure in revealing the mystery of the plan through Christ, to be carried out in the fullness of time; namely, to bring all things—you, us, all things in heaven and on earth—together in Christ.
When we hold up a mirror, you see yourself. 
But you are more than just yourself: Christ fills you, is working through you. 
And what’s more, Christ is filling you and the person sitting next to you—Christ is joining all of us together. 
So too in our Sabbatical tapestry of questions and answers, what is revealed is a community striving to love and to serve, remembering whose we are in order to learn how to live.
Today there will be one more question. 
What have you learned from Sabbatical? 
Take a moment to think about that, and then when the time comes we hope you respond. 
The mystery of God’s plan is unfolding among us, and there still visions that have yet be written. 
May God so enlighten our hearts. 
Amen.


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