Sunday, December 25, 2016

Dear Congregation...

(Pastor's Annual Report for Lake Nokomis Presbyterian Church)

Sunlight streaming in the glass wall between us and the lake, we were sitting in the library of St. John’s Abbey, pondering, What describes our life together right now? We had all just shared what characterized our own personal lives, the themes we were seeing unfold this year for each of us, and now our attention had turned to LNPC.
What is God doing in and through us in this chapter? 
How is God leading us to respond? we wondered.



Every year the leadership team of LNPC goes on a retreat to discern and plan for the next year.  This year the stories that came out were about new babies and new visitors, about Marty’s illness and our longing to care for him well, about some of our older members moving out of their homes.  We began to envision ourselves as a circle, like a donut, the community forming a loving and protective ring, with our most vulnerable members in the middle as our center, our guides in ministry.  And some of those who used to be in the center, we noted, like our younger members, were now moving to the outside. They were able to help care for others and take on expanding roles and leadership, while some who had been strong for others now shifted into the center where they could be held by the rest of us with attention and compassion.  This flowing shape of movement, change, strength, vulnerability, care and hope was a vision we all shared, and what we felt described who we were called to be this year as a congregation.

I love looking back on that day, and seeing that indeed, we’ve lived into that calling this year.  Caring for one another in our vulnerability, belonging to one another and to God – being the people who define ourselves that way and practicing it with each other- has been the focus of our life this year, the shape of our hospitality.

So, now to the question I asked each of you to answer...

How have I experienced God this year?

I personally experienced God profoundly in the care of the congregation when I was laid up for two weeks after foot surgery: prayers, cards, visits, food…  It’s excruciating for me to feel helpless; I am much more comfortable giving than receiving. This was a beautiful learning and growing experience for me, and a chance to glimpse church from another angle. Thank you.

When we gathered around Marty on Palm Sunday and laid our hands on him (a ring of children touching Marty and the rest of us surrounding them), and commissioned him to a Ministry of Dying, I felt God’s presence.  I continue to experience God in Marty’s ongoing courage to share honestly with us his journey of dying, and his willingness to allow us to be in it alongside him as it unfolds.  He is teaching us how to live even as he is facing death.  I am so grateful for Marty, his strong and gentle spirit, and his desire to live fully and wholly.
Marty on election day,
showing off his collection of
campaign pins from the past

I experienced God in Lee Widga’s funeral – which felt in some ways like the end of an era, a generation that has shaped this congregation with love and tenderness, handing it on to those who are to come.  The patterned dishes his beloved Agnes helped pick out decades ago and the silver tea set were used to host his funeral, the way Agnes had hosted for so many others, for so many years.  God’s faithfulness glimpsed through the light of Lee’s life.  It was a holy day.

I experienced God in the vibrant life and wiggly newness of this year – Helen's and Robby’s baptisms, Baby Louisa’s birth, Jonathan, Brittney and Laurel Anne’s joining, the cohort of tinies and their parents that have made us their community of worship: Helen, Ava, Laurel, Ben, Robby, Svea, Louisa: This is your church, little ones, and we are so blessed to be your people of hope and faith!


I experienced God in our Saturday services, worship designed to give space and rest for prayer and connecting with God.  As a pastor, I am trained to help shape people’s beliefs and thinking about God, (and I do love preaching)! But in these services, it’s my job to hold the space and get out of the way, letting God encounter each person however they need to be met.  That takes courage, and trust that the Holy Spirit is the one who mediates our encounter with God (not the pastor!), which I believe, but it makes me practice and renew that belief on a regular basis.  Every time, I am humbled and grateful, and reminded that when we stop, God will meet us. This is true.

I experienced God this year in the “milestones” times in Sunday worship, sharing the ordinary, notable moments of our lives with each other, and in the prayers, being able to hold each other’s grief and joy, and lift up our prayer for the world in a way that feels shared and powerful.  We are not alone.  And again, God is right here.


I experienced God in Sunday school with our kids, who, in case you didn’t know, are paying attention to life and God and questions.  And I get to sit in that with them, and we wonder together, and explore together, and think about how we are going to teach you grown ups the things we are wondering about and exploring each week.  That is a gift.

            I experienced God in the way the community has supported and empowered me to share our life and learnings with others.  I led a marriage seminar with Andy in Michigan in February, led worship for a Pastor Sabbath event in Kansas City in April, and was the keynote speaker for another Sabbath event in October.  In November I served as a Spiritual Director at an annual youth ministry conference, doing one-on-one what I see my role in ministry as with our whole congregation, that is, noticing together what God is up to in our lives and in the world, and seeking to join in.  Every year when I do this, I feel regrounded in my calling and strengthened for my work with you.  I also led a Sabbath workshop there that was attended by forty-some tired pastors and youth leaders, who left feeling hopeful and inspired by the stories of our life together.  I wish so much that you all could see the ways God is using you in the larger church to bring a message of restoration to so many other congregations and individuals.  Our life together is more unique than you may realize, and people are hungry for experiences of rest, belonging, and trusting in the Way of God instead of the Way of Fear. 


Our story was shared by the Duke Journal of Leadership, Word and World Journal, and Horizon’s Magazine, including visits from a reporter and photographer for a few weeks.  I coached two other pastors through beginning their own Sabbath pattern in their congregations, and gave ongoing advice and direction to a pastor and D.Min. student designing a Sabbath retreat component to congregational ministry with parents and children in his large congregation.  Session recognized these things as an extension of LNPC’s ministry and my own calling, and shifted my job description in October to begin formally including 10 hours a week on “special projects,” with the front and center goal for now being to write a book.  I want to tell you I have begun this, and it is really hard, and I am really grateful for the encouragement and accountability the elders are giving me.

 I experienced God in the many ways other people and communities intersected with us this year.  We joined with six other South Minneapolis congregations to host a racism workshop by Penumbra Theatre company, (a follow-up to our series in Lent on racism), and hosted a half-day grief workshop for the community with Beth Slevcove, author of Broken Hallelujahs.  Iris Logan’s mosaic
Westminster's Day Camp!
pieces and Anne Tiller’s quilts provided the backdrop for so much joy and life within the walls we share.  Westminster’s children flooded our space with songs, games, and stories for their weeklong summer camp (And even though Westminster’s building construction will be finished then, they want to come back next year!).  The young people from St. Joe’s came over for Movie Camp for the 6th delightful year, finding themselves and their world within the parables of Jesus.  Did you know a whole class of spiritual directors from Sacred Ground were trained in our space this year?  And that classes for women coming out of prostitution were held here too? Did you know that La Leche League has been gathering in our building for years and years, and every Tuesday I get to see new little babies come through our doors?  Did you know that a spiritual director meets with clients upstairs, actors practice in the basement, Girl Scouts gather here, and there are so many other people we never see, who think of our space as their own place of sanctuary, learning, support and hospitality?  Speaking of this, I am so thankful for Central Fellowship and for Iglesia Fuego Pentecostes, for whom we get to provide space to gather as church, and with whom we share trust in God’s love and a calling to love others with unrelenting faithfulness.  Gorgeous.

Of course, one amazing way I experienced God this year was through Lisa’s own journey of discernment and eventually ordination to Minister of Word and Sacrament, where another one of our crazy “what if…?”s became a reality.  Not daunted in the least by a financial barrier, session moved forward in trust with what they knew God to be calling us to, and the money followed.  And we got to hold this enormous party, welcoming friends from around the country to celebrate with us what we experienced all along but now made official: Lisa is a pastor to this community.  I say it every year, but I am grateful beyond words for her collaboration, creativity, and depth of care for this community. 

When Dee had to move to assisted living, the community rallied, visited, brought housewarming gifts and treats.  Dick hung pictures and Sue drove over some furniture.  Lisa supported Dee’s niece, Kathy, as she did the hard work of getting Dee to accept a new home, and even though it wasn’t easy, it was a good thing. 
Visits with those who can’t come to worship have been lovely.  Remember when we tried to sneak a visit in on Lee, but he was such an avid internet guy at 95 that he’d read the announcements and knew ahead of time that we were coming, and told us when we got there that we were an hour early?  And not just visiting, but all those who drive with others, picking folks up for worship and special events! I experience God in all the ways this community is in it together – meals, prayers, cards, calls, chomping at the bit for a turn to pay for housekeeping for Marty – you all love each other so well and it is beautiful to behold.

I experienced God in our garden blessing for St. Joseph’s Home for Children at the end of May and our neighborhood prayer walk service in July, moments of recognizing God’s presence and sharing God’s blessing in the world around us.  

And what great conversations we have!  From our chatty Coffee and Donuts with the Pastor, to PW’s theological digging around the women of the Bible over yummy cakes, to Adult Ed discussions, Connections monthly gatherings at Fireroast CafĂ©, and our summer Home Church services, we find solidarity, learning and support with each other in conversation. We are lively talkers.

I experience God in the generosity and faithfulness with which LNPC handles money.  Did you know that, between our monthly tithes and our monthly food shelf giving, (which alone totaled $4000) when the year is out this little congregation (with a 2016 budget of $160,000) will have given over $20,000 to other small, shoestring ministries, organizations and congregations this year?  The thank you notes we get back tell stories of God’s ministry unfolding all over our city and country, and we get to be part of that! At the same time, others are part of what God is doing in and through us – Westminster, in particular, continues to be a huge cheerleader and financial supporter of us.  We all belong to each other, and it’s all God’s ministry; we are the grateful, joyful participants.  

And did I mention yet the wisdom and thoughtfulness of your session? Discerning and intentional, we had some deeply memorable experiences together this year – particularly I am grateful for our meetings with Brittney and Jonathan, and Chris and Jen.  Bearing each other’s joy and pain, your leaders are leading with integrity, insight and compassion.

I experience God through those who sneak in and do things around the building to make it more hospitable for others – Gary repairs things regularly and Kathy keeps things clean. Folks from Fuego Pentecostes come in early Sunday mornings and scrub down the basement, then go home and change into church clothes and come back in the afternoon.  Remember on Palm Sunday, when we arrived and the glass front door had been smashed? The police with their dog checked out the building, then, during Sunday school a few people swept up glass, a few more built a temporary wooden replacement, another person called a glass repair shop and by that afternoon the door was good as new.  Every week Linnea and Jose change the sign, and they serve as hosts to parties that rent the basement on weekend evenings.   Linda D. has slipped in countless times and sorted and organized choral music. The water cooler gets magically filled, the coffee cups in the gathering room get washed from time to time, the sanctuary gets decorated, the communion bread gets baked, the front walk gets shoveled, and it’s not always the same person!  What an impact those with quiet gifts and hidden blessings have on our community.  “We all share responsibility for the ministry of the church” is one of our guiding convictions, and I witness this in action all the time.

I experience God in the unexpected moments that spring up out of nowhere.  On our family vacation to the Black Hills, I found myself on a side journey to visit Dick’s son’s grave, outside the former sanatorium where he lived as a child.  It was so moving, and a deep honor to pay respects there.  
A couple of weeks ago Jeanne and I found ourselves sharing conversation, soup and coffee with a homeless couple who had stopped by the church building.  They ended up keeping one of the crosses from our collection – a cross Barb Day had donated some time ago that said, “rooted in love,” that brought the woman great comfort to imagine carrying with her. When I emailed Barb in Florida and told her about this, she wept at the thought of that gift being a passed-along blessing to someone else.  I am telling you, we DO belong to God and we DO belong to each other, we humans, and that is not a shallow or simple thing.  It calls us to be deeply present, willing to suffer with each other and see each other, and willing to allow ourselves to be seen and known as well.  We meet Jesus, who is with and for us, when we are with and for each other.

In more ways than I could describe or count, I experienced God this year in our life together. We are not trying to be perfect, but to be present, to remember that we are free to be for one another and God.  And we learn from our missteps and keep adapting as we go, seeking always to keep asking, What is God doing now? And now? And what about now?

I am so grateful to be your pastor and co-journeyer in this messy and exquisite life of noticing God, following Jesus, and being with and for each other.

Here’s to another great year!


Kara

The Lord is Come! (Aka, God's non-compliance)


To use this as a take-home service for Christmas Day, follow the red.



I have a stupid tree this year. It looked so great at the lot, the guy held it up and it was glorious and full, the perfect tree. We debated between two, and finally chose this one for being even more perfect than the other one.
But we got it home, and it turns out it doesn’t sit right in the tree stand. It has this thick branch too low down but hacking it off would leave a huge bald spot on the bottom so we left it on. And it was too tall, so we had to saw off the tip of the top with a meat knife and jam the star on the sticky, prickly nubs.  The lights just didn’t go on well; they are clumped in some parts and missing in others, and a few days after its arrival it became the setting of an epic stuffed animal battle so there are bent branches and still the occasional stuffed dog or hamster forgotten deep in the branches. But even if all these things were fixed, it turns out that the trunk itself has a weird bend in it, so it leans dramatically to the side no matter how much time we spend rearranging it, and we’ve spent far too much time rearranging it.

Usually this time of year I love getting up in the early morning and turning on the tree. I will sit by the fireplace, the room lit by the tree’s soft glow, and feel peaceful and hopeful.  This year I wake up and sit with my coffee glaring at this belligerent mess, brazenly slouching against my wall like it’s trying to pick a fight. I wanted to love this tree, even ironically, but I can’t muster anything but irritation for it.  It is not cooperating with my plans.

Apparently I expect Christmas to make me feel cozy, sentimental and serene. But to be honest, I’m not sure Christmas can take the pressure this year. And my tree leans defiantly in my constant sightline as an irksome reminder that things are not quite right.

Today people are going to sit around not quite perfect trees, eating not quite perfect food, opening not quite perfect gifts, having not quite perfect conversations.  And between the joyful moments of laughter and connection, for lots of reasons, lots of people will also be feeling mixed up, anxious, and sad, and then they’ll chide themselves for not being in “the Christmas spirit,” even though the weather isn’t really in the Christmas spirit either.
Christmas is not cooperating with our plans for it.
But guess what? Neither does the first Christmas, actually. 
And neither does God, almost never, in fact.

So let’s step out of a shallow dependence on holiday cheer, and into a different story, one that has very little to do with a jolly version of Christmas contentment -  God’s story of deep darkness pierced by unquenchable light, of expectations thwarted and salvation glimpsed, of love born into in a tense and weary world.

Read Isaiah 9:2-7 
Write on a bit of paper, Where do I want God to come in?  Collect and set aside.


(Read Luke 1:26-38)
We all belong to God, and we all belong to each other. This isn’t trite and shallow: a plea to “just be nice,” or a campaign slogan lying in a muddy puddle under people’s departing feet.
It is the very lifeblood of it all. 

And it looks like this: Mary, Don’t be afraid; You belong to God.  So does the whole world and everyone in it.  Because this is so, God is coming to share life with us, to set us free from everything that tells us otherwise.  And you, Mary, are going to be part of this.  Don’t worry about how it will happen; it will break every rule, because God loves to do impossible things. And because belonging to God means we belong to each other, you wont be alone  - even now, in fact, your impossibly old and undeniably pregnant relative is part of this too.

And then there is Regular Joseph with his regular life, comfortably stretched out before him, predictable and planned, now suddenly shattered.  She is not mine after all, and I am not to be hers. Dear, brokenhearted Joseph, resolving to quietly, in the least harmful way, sever ties, pick up the pieces and start over. 
Don’t be afraid, Joseph. Don’t be afraid to belong to her. God is coming share life with us, to set us free from everything that divides us from God and each other. And you, Joseph, are going to be part of this. God will come as a helpless baby in need of belonging, and you are to love him as your own son.

(Read Luke 2:1-7)
A hugely pregnant Mary and a stressed out, worried Joseph make the trek to Bethlehem, one little, inconsequential family among the masses, traveling under orders of a powerful empire that dominates the people’s lives.  But when God’s celestial army assembles, instead of wiping out the oppressive enemy in the blink of an eye, it forms a giant choir, and belts out God’s persistent, undermining promise of peace on the whole earth to all who belong to God and each other, into the stunned and terrified faces of simple shepherds in a nowhere place. Don’t be afraid, the angels will joyfully holler. You are going to be part of this too! Go and see!

God doesn’t play by the same rules as you and I do. The world wants strength; God comes in weakness. The world values status and power, God chooses the ordinary and unnoticed.  The world praises shiny and slick, God prefers broken and real.  God chose to come in scandal and shame instead of honor and admiration.

Nobody in the Christmas story got to keep their armor. Their illusions about where their strength or purpose or value or identity come from have to die, because really belonging to each other means that all that separates me from God and from others has to die in me. It means all that buries my true self and yours, all that makes me feel like I have to earn my esteem or defend my worth, and all my reliance on things in the world to guarantee me security and stability, that dies.  It all gets taken away to make way for the real. Zechariah, Elizabeth, Mary, Joseph, Shepherds, Magi, all of them get reduced to their simple humanity before they are brought into the Kingdom of God with the words, Now Don’t be afraid!

(Read Luke 2:8-20)
A different story is unfolding, even now, within and through your life, this life, this world. In this reality, everything seems upside down; shepherds become preachers and virgins are mothers, and in a dark and smelly stable, with no doctor or place for them in the inn, the God of the universe lays aside invincibility to be born as a defenseless human baby.
  
The Kingdom of God is here, grown up Jesus will later say, It’s right here. Among us, within us, between us. Hidden and backwards, it comes in weakness, asking us to let go of all that we use to protect ourselves from our most basic humanity and divide us from each other. God’s Kingdom is seen when we step out of our strength and stand with someone else in their brokenness. When we name our own brokenness and need and let someone stand with us. That’s where Jesus already is, already has been, always will be. That’s where we can feel that primal and permanent belonging, to God and to each other, that we were made for and are returning to.
Sometimes we call it love.  And nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Darkness is real, but Love is the deepest reality and the final word.

(Take out the papers you wrote at the beginning. Read them one at a time, For each one, say, "God is with us in this."  Or, "Into ______ God has come.  Response: God is with us.")

Right into the very mess of it, God comes. 
Into a tense and weary world braced for worse, God comes, thwarting expectations and upsetting plans, threatening power with undermining peace, and piercing the darkness with unquenchable light. 


This is the story you belong to. 
Now, don’t be afraid.

Amen.

Sunday, December 11, 2016

Premembering




Last week we met with Zechariah, who, in his forced silence, held on behalf of the whole world, reverence, awe and honor for this thing that was unfolding.
This week we are hanging out with Elizabeth.

At the moment Mary was meeting with the angel, hearing this thing that she would be part of, Elizabeth was at home, pregnant, already five months into this thing, perhaps having a quiet cup of tea and knitting some tiny outfit, with silent Zechariah by her side. 

Five months of hiding quietly at home. God has taken away my disgrace! she’d said, but it’s not clear exactly what it’s been replaced with. How in the world would she explain this to the neighbors? Walk her pregnant self into the shops? Send the silent Zechariah instead, raises fewer questions. It’s simpler to stay home and share the quiet wonder of all of this with the one other person on the planet who can understand it – to the extent that anyone can understand such a thing –  her mute husband.

When Mary asks the angel ‘How can this be, since I am a virgin?’
The angel answers, “God will do this! Even now your super old relative is pregnant! See! Nothing is impossible with God!” Perhaps what Mary heard, what she'd needed to hear, was, Elizabeth is in this too, Mary. Someone else knows what you are going through; someone else will understand. Say Yes and you wont be in it alone.
Mary answers Yes. Here am I. Let it be. And then immediately sets out for Elizabeth, a week’s journey away.  While Elizabeth and Zechariah hunker down at home and wait, Mary's first move is to go to those who understand, to share this astonishing reality with others.

This is the week of Advent dedicated to joy.  Last week we said “peace” means wholeness and fullness – life as God meant for it to be. Joy is when the deep wholeness, that absolute connection to God and each other, is felt with a jolt.  A sudden recognizing life as it was meant to be.  It causes laughter and euphoria, deep contentment, pleasure and delight. Joy happens when our whole being, body and soul, directly responds, Yes! Oh my God, Yes! Anne Lamott “Peace is joy at rest. Joy is peace on its feet.” 
Joy is a deep, delicious, knowing, in the core of you, what we’ve called “pre-membering,” which is tasting for a moment the future that is to come as though it is here in its fullness already.

We are talking a lot this Advent about how God comes – in outrageous impossibility, with the unexpected and unsuspecting people taking center stage.  And here that comes again - no human knowledge or insight directs this next scene.  No words are needed to bring the unborn prophet, his startled mother, his mute father, and the young mother to be of God-with-us together.  Joy alone is the language, when the Fetus John, already inhabiting his prophetic role of recognizing and pointing to the Messiah, flails and kicks inside Elizabeth at the approach of the Embryonic Jesus inside of Mary.  Joy! Oh my God, YES! It is real; it is coming! God is here! Aaah!

And joy is nothing if not contagious. 
John’s joy sets off Elizabeth, who is suddenly filled with the Holy Spirit and knows what is happening, which is to say, she is filled with joy, and she blurts out loudly, “Oh! ‘Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!” And the joy spreads, and then Mary knows too; joy opens up Mary’s heart and she sings out the great hymn of premembering, the Magnificat:

‘My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,
 for he has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant.
   Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
 for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
   and holy is his name.
 His mercy is for those who fear him
   from generation to generation.
 He has shown strength with his arm;
   he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
 He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
   and lifted up the lowly;
 he has filled the hungry with good things,
   and sent the rich away empty.
 He has helped his servant Israel,
   in remembrance of his mercy,
 according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
   to Abraham and to his descendants for ever.’

And for the next three months the two women share life side by side, growing within and between them the promise for all the world. 

God is about to enter in to share it all with us.  So when this most precious and astounding of things about to happen, it must also be shared. Joy is not a solo act – because it is the electricity of our belonging to God and belonging to each other.  Whatever other questions, and worries, and wondering they bore, they did not bear them alone, and so neither did they taste eternity alone.  This pregnant elderly woman, her old, mute husband, and the unwed teenage mother who showed up on their doorstep, in the midst of what looked for all the world like an impossible situation, knew JOY. God is here, God is coming, and we get to be part of it!

*       *      *       *       *      *       *       *        *        *

Advent Evening Prayer: 
Tonight we join Elizabeth and her posse in the waiting.  
Tonight we bring whatever is on our hearts - whether heavy or light, we bring it to God. Our own places of impossibility and the world’s, our own darkness and the world’s, our own sadness or tiredness, wondering or worry, and that of the world.  And we let God who is here, and who is coming, meet us now.

Prayers for Joy you can do at home:

1- Contemplative Joy Walking Prayer: 

Get outside! 
Before you begin walking, pause and breathe, begin in rest.


Recall a time you felt joy with abandon.
As you walk, let yourself go back there in your mind. 
What was going on around you?
What were the sounds? Smells? Sights?
Where do you feel it in your body? 
Let yourself feel it as you walk.

Let this feeling and memory guide you.  

When you feel full of joy, begin noticing all around you, what are the sounds? Smells, sights? How does your body feel right now? 
Imagine walking each step inside God’s own joy.

When your walk is complete. Give Thanks.


2- Advent Joy World Prayer:

The world belongs to God.  
At every given moment, in every given place, there is at least one person who is feeling deeply connected with God’s reality – being guided by love, in touch with what God is doing, willing to feel it and celebrate it. 
 The Kingdom of God is here, and one day will fill all in all.  
As an Advent form of prayer, we wait for the fullness of God, and often we pray in sorrow and longing.  This prayer is a way to wait for that fullness by giving thanks for the fullness of God that already meets us, even in the most difficult of circumstances.

Directions:

Pull up an image of a map of the world - either on the computer, or use a globe or paper map.

Where would you normally pray for God to come, ‘Come, Lord Jesus!’ with sorrow and longing?

Pray for that place, but this time, picture God already there, already doing something, in and through the people in that place, holding them in love, bringing healing and comfort. 


Whether you feel a sense of peace and trust, or you simply wish you could, Place your finger on that place and say aloud: Someone here is feeling joy right now.

Keep doing this until you feel your stomach unclench, and a sense of trust arise. Or when you feel ready to put it down.

3- Reflection/Action Joy Prayer:

In a journal or on a piece of paper, consider, What gives me joy?  
Brainstorm and write a list.

Do not read the next direction until you've completed your list.

(seriously, don't read the next part until you've written a list...)

When you are finished – read on.

These things you've just listed point directly to your particular calling in the world.

We feel Joy when we are connected to our true purpose –
living the way God has made us to share in
God’s love in the world.


Which one of these things will you do this week?

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