Deep and wide

Daily Devotion - March 31

I will send a brief message each day while we are pausing gathering in person.
- Kara

I'm thinking today about the Body of Christ - that community that transcends all human boundaries- including time and space- connecting us with those gone before and those all over the world.  I'm thinking about how we are planted and tended to by God, how we care for each other, how vast and unending this connection is. We are all in this life with and for each other. 

The photo above is of the space we use for prayers in our zoom worship services. Instead of our prayer candles in sand, we're repurposing an Advent (with Lent extension!) "wreath." Next to it is our church Peace Plant.  
This plant was given to me as an ordination and goodbye gift by First Presbyterian Church in South St. Paul in 2006.  When I joined up with LNPC to be your pastor in 2008, this plant was a sad small, half-dead version of itself that had long since stopped blooming. I myself was tired and tapped out and needing inspiration, and LNPC was, at the moment, a tamped-down and withdrawn version of itself.  
As we began to envision what God might want to do with us as a congregation, the session (board of elders) and I, repotted the plant together. We removed it from its small container, and found it was terribly root bound. We gently pulled apart the roots, and decorated this large pot, (much too large for it at the time!). We placed stones in the bottom, gave it fresh soil full of nutrients, and watered it generously.
We let the process be a metaphor for tending the life the congregation, finding a new container for what God might want to do in and through us. 
In the 12 years since then, this thing has grown like gangbusters. Every time someone moves away to another state, leaves us for another congregation, goes off to college, or moves into assisted living, we dig up a piece of the plant and send it along with them.  I believe there are over 16 pieces of this plant now in various homes around the country. We are in this life with and for each other.

A couple of years ago, the plant was moved out of the office into the Gathering Room in our church building, so the job of watering it fell not just to a few of us, but to all of us, and to anyone else who shares that space, and so many groups now do.
And now, the plant is sitting in my family room, along with our prayer candles, and the communion chalice on my mantle, and it's being watered and tended to at home, as are all of us.

Last year before Lent, I reached out to my friend Malcolm Gordon, a musician in New Zealand who helped lead a conference Andy and I had spoken at a couple years before, to see if he had a good song we could use for Lent. I told him our theme was "grace" and the grace of God that meets us in all things, especially, we were talking about in Lent, in absence.  Malcolm sent us the perfect song, "Attend to the Ground," which we sang throughout Lent. We've turned to that song again this Lent, and during this time of unknown, this song has been sustaining us each week.
When Erin reached out today to give a donation to Malcolm to thank him again for the song, she discovered on his blog that he wrote that song when we requested it.  
The song goes like this:

Receive what cannot be claimed
Fall into what cannot be scaled
Breathe in what cannot be seen
Awake to what cannot be dreamed

Attend to the ground beneath your feet
Attend to the colors underneath
For God is here and now in love
My friend, trust that will be enough

The idea for the song came from a Lenten practice he had done a few years previously, where he went without shoes for the 40 days of Lent (which can be done in New Zealand, not Minnesota!), and how it helped him pay attention to God in new ways.  Our request prompted this song as his response, and this song from then is again feeding us now.  

We are all in this life with and for each other.

In a few minutes I will get on a zoom call with your elders. Our monthly session meeting has become a weekly meeting while we are all physically apart.  We will pray for the congregation, and check in about how all of you are doing.  But also, this time, we will "examine for membership" three new members: Rachel, Bill, and Erica.  These folks are wanting to put down roots in this little community, with you specific people, to seek God together and help one another participate in the life of God.  We are all in this life with and for each other.

The Church goes way beyond any boundaries we can invent or perceive.  Everywhere are people who've lives are coopted by love, directed by love, guided by love.  We get to belong to each other, because we all belong to God.  In Christ, our roots run deep and our branches reach wide. By the Spirit, even though we are apart, we are One. And we are all in this life with and for each other.
May you rest in that reality today.

CONNECTING RITUAL:

This week, we are reading through the Gospel of John.  In my house, it is at the dinner table. Maybe for you, it will be when you wake up, or before bed, or over lunch.  It can be read in about 20 minutes a day, or by reading three chapters each day.  If this is your approach, today, we are reading Chapters 7-9.

Perhaps tonight before we go to bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we might pray this prayer together, and so join our hearts:

O God of life, all of life and of each life,
we lay our lives before you.
We give our lives to you,
from whom nothing is hidden.
You are before us, God, you are behind,
you are around us, God, you are within.

O God of life,
you know the secret thoughts of every year.
We bring the faith that is in us, and the doubt.
We bring the joy that is in us, and the sorrow.

O God of life, you are in the light and in the darkness.
We bring the knowledge that is in us, and the ignorance.
We bring the hope that is in us, and the despair.

O God of life, O generous Spirit,
Renew us with your life,
tonight, tomorrow, and always.
Amen.

(From Iona Prayerbook)

How it begins and ends

Daily Devotion - March 29

I will send a brief message each day (except Mondays) while we are pausing gathering in person.
- Kara
 

John 11:17-45

Lazarus

This week, when our MN lockdown began, Governor Walz explained how we are too late to flatten the curve. Now we are hoping to buy some time to get enough hospital beds in place  - even if they are in stadiums and hotels.  We are too late to keep the worst from happening, now we are just trying to extend its hit so we can be more prepared when it does. 

When Jesus finally gets to the home of his dying friend, he’s not even a little too late; he’s four days too late.  There’s no extending or preparing; it’s over, not even close.  There’s no turning back. He was supposed to be there, and he wasn’t, and Lazarus died.

Jesus, you’re too late. If you had only been here. 
These are the closest people to Jesus.  He loves them, they are the ones that scripture says Jesus loves.  Other than the unnamed “disciple whom Jesus loves” who races Peter to the tomb, Jesus loves the Father, he loves his own, and he loves Martha, Mary and Lazarus.

And still, he was not was there when Lazarus died.
There are more and more people in the world, in our nation, in our own communities, who will not be there when their loved one dies. This is terrible and tragic.
And most of us would give anything to be there.

But Jesus had no pandemic lockdown.
He could have been there, and Martha and Mary aren’t afraid to say he should have been there.  Lord, if only you had been here, this terrible thing would not have happened. 

This is part of having a relationship of love, a real relationship.
We express our hurt, our confusion, our disappointment.
We don’t make excuses for the other, even if the other is God incarnate. Perhaps especially then.

We learned last summer: there are times for the Psalms of orientation and times for Psalms of disorientation (and times for Psalms of new orientation too). And we learned that we don’t tiptoe around God when we’re upset, You’re a good God and I will praise you.  I know you are with me, even if I can’t feel it.  
All that might be true, but like King David, we are supposed to say it right to God, just like it is- if you had been here instead of absent, this would not have happened. Hear the trust, the faith in that? You could have fixed this and you didn’t. 
We are supposed to ask why.  We are allowed to yell and scream and argue and accuse. That’s part of the deal.  All told, Mary and Martha held it together better than I would have.

But that isn’t to push Jesus away. That kind of honesty exists within a relationship of love.  Because what they say then is, Come and see where we have laid him.
The same words Jesus said to the first disciples in the very first chapter of John, the words Jesus says to us, inviting us into the Kingdom of God way of being, Come and see.
These are the words we say back to him, in our loss, and in our grief, come and see. 
Come and see what we have lost. Come and see the destruction. Come and witness the horror. Come, Lord, and see what we are facing.

And Jesus shows up to wail and rage at the injustice and awfulness of it. He joins the mourners in their grief.

Death is ruling over our lives right now, the threat of physical death and the death of our lives and life as we have known it, it’s looming.  Even as we hide away to try to prevent it from taking more lives, it creeps over the mountains, through the streets of our cities, across our arbitrary borders and alleged divisions, and we are all pinned down in place by it’s threat.

And we feel like we’ve lost our lives – so much of what defined our lives a month ago is paused, or ended forever.  So we are stir-crazy and stressed out and bored and afraid.  And everything feels more exhausting, somehow, but how can that be? Because most of us are not even going anywhere or doing anything!  But that’s part of the deal too. We’re dialed down, our capacities are diminished, we’re withdrawn, in shock, and we’re tired.

We’d like to avoid this suffering, oh, how we’d like to prevent it!  We want Jesus to sweep in right on time and prevent it.  But as frustrating as it is for us, we don’t have a God who rushes to stop the bad thing from happening. We have one who comes into it.
Being in relationship with God-with-us means we face death and grief with Jesus. We say, “Come and see” and expect that he will.  And Jesus comes to mourn with those who mourn.

And then we learn that into the finality of death, the “unprecedented,” “things will never be the same” circumstances, Jesus comes into the midst of the death and brings new life right out of it.

I am the resurrection and the life. Jesus says. Jesus is the embodiment of life, resurrection comes in him, through him. Right in the midst of death, life shows up. Right in the midst of death, resurrection happens.  This is not a future hope – it is that, certainly, but it is always now.  Abundant life is now, here. Christ is here.
We don’t get resurrection, or life, as idealized beliefs, or future goals.  We get them right now; in the moments we need them, through the very person of Jesus Christ coming near to us.

One writer puts it, “This is a story that begins in lament and ends in resurrection and life.”
Lent, this season of preparation for Easter, is a human paradigm, to get us into the place of openness to receive the life God brings by turning our gaze toward the death that precedes it.
But this year we don’t need this structure- we are, right now, living in Lent.  We are living in a story that begins in lament and ends in resurrection and life.

Jesus didn’t come on time to temporarily delay his own friend’s death. Jesus enters in and suffers death with all of us, and overcomes death permanently for all of us.

Those who witness this, like the ones who unbound Lazarus’s grave bandages and draped a cloak around him, who held his arms and walked his creaky joints back to the house, drew him a bath, fed him a meal, welcomed him back into the community, they trusted. They believed, because they were part of what God was doing bringing life.

The One who is the resurrection and the life, said come and see what I will do, and drew them into ministry for one another.  This One brought life out of death right in front of them and summoned them to participate.  

All around us, at every moment, this is happening, in big and little ways.  God is bringing newness, life, hope, connection, joy, a future that we could not have envisioned or dared imagine, right out of the impossibility and destruction around us and within us.
Because every time death meets us – in big and little ways, it is a story that ends in new life.
Come and see.
Amen.
 
(This year, we are asking, "Who is this God and what is God up to?" And "What is a good life and how do we live it?" along with some of our biblical ancestors.  The sermons related to this series are here: Hannah, Mary, Anna & Simeon, John the Baptist, Samuel, David (we had a theater performance, here's an older sermon about David), The Samaritan Woman, Mary of Bethany (preached by Pastor Lisa), Martha, Lazarus, Mary Magdalene, Thomas (preached by Pastor Lisa, follow up devotion here)

CONNECTING RITUALS:

This week, our congregation is reading through the Gospel of John.  In my house, it is at the dinner table. Maybe for you, it will be when you wake up, or before bed, or over lunch.  It can be read in about 20 minutes a day, or by reading three chapters each day.  If this is your approach, today, we are reading Chapters 1-3.

We are also setting aside Sundays for Sabbath rest. After we log off of our worship service, we are staying off of TV, phones and other sources of news and distraction. This is time to continue remembering that we belong to God and each other, to rest in some gentleness and let that truth soak in deeper.  Instead of more news, we might:

Get out in the fresh air. Take a nap. Read poetry or scripture. Cook with someone. Do yoga.  Relax in the tub. Play a board game. Build legos.  Write a letter. Look through photo albums.
Be human in a non-plugged-in way for whole day (or for three hours minimum), at least once a week. 

We believe that taking Sabbath time will help us return to the situation that being human right now is with more grace, perspective and courage.

Perhaps when you are ready to move back out of set-aside time whatever time that is in each of our homes, we might use this liturgy for leaving sabbath time, and so join our hearts:
Liturgy for Leaving Sabbath Time
(To be used at the end of the Day)

This ritual may be done with a group or alone.

• Light the Sabbath candle. (Or gather around candle that has been lit through the day).
• Moment of silence.
• Share with one another, or reflect to yourself: 

What was the best part of this Sabbath time for you?

• Share or reflect: 

What do you look forward to in the week ahead?

• Pass the spice packet, (bowl of spices, cinnamon stick, etc) and inhale its fragrance deeply.  

Let the smell linger and remind you of the sweet depth of Sabbath rest, to carry the sense of Sabbath with you as you enter your week.

• End with a simple prayer like, “Thank you God for the blessing of Sabbath time. Thank you for the gift of life, and for sharing all of life with us.  Amen.”
• Extinguish the candle.

Rain instead

Daily Devotion - March 28

I will try to send a brief message each day (except Mondays) while we are pausing gathering in person.
- Kara

my neighbor's tulips

Have you stepped outside yet today, Minnesota friends?
Do it.
Then breathe in deeply.
Again.

It rained last night.
And it is supposed to rain all weekend.
We've been annoyed about that in my house -  we had big weekend plans to be outside. We cleaned the yard and "opened the deck" last night-  which is to say, we scrubbed it down and put out the deck furniture, moved the grill into place, ready for our first big outdoor meal this weekend.

But we got rain instead.
So much rain. All weekend long.

This morning, though, first thing out of bed, I stepped outside and I breathed.

My friend called it "fresh scrubbed air," and that's what it is.  That's what the unexpected feel of the cool, heavy, humid air on my skin and the deep earth smell did to me; it made me feel like this is a fresh scrubbed day, and I am a fresh scrubbed person.

A few days ago, someone said to me, "Let's share some things that haven't been canceled...."  

And so here is one: Spring.

The snow pile in the shady spot in the back corner of our yard is almost gone. The wet leaves from last Fall tucked around the edges of the house are begging to be raked. The tulips are poking up through the dirt next to the neighbor's stretch of sidewalk.  The thaw is almost over, the life is percolating underneath waiting to burst out. Birds are louder and squirrels more brazen. We are stir crazy and so is the earth - it's ready for new life to emerge.

But nature is not in a hurry.  She has her own steady pace. She takes her time.  And the rain is part of that.  Even the slushy half-snow rain that is coming on Sunday can't cancel Spring, and indeed, is helping it along.

I read this morning somewhere some version of, "There's hope, maybe not the hope we hoped for, but hope nonetheless."

So, welcome, rain. Welcome, Spring.
Let's breathe it in and watch what it brings.

CONNECTING RITUAL:

Here's a blessing from David Steindl-Rast's 99 Blessings:

Blessing 79
Source of all blessings,
You bless us with summer rain -- starting with a smell all its own when drizzle settled the dust, turning into a calm flow, then becoming a steady stream, sleepy and unhurried, that falls all day

(and the next and the next), till time stands still: making the earth soft and rich and the grass green.
May I let its voice so quiet my mind that I become for all around me like mild rain.

Perhaps today at some point of pause, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we might follow this pattern and write/pray our own blessing:

Source of all blessings...
You bless us with:
May I:

If you do write one, please email it to me. I'll share them on Tuesday.

Held

Daily Devotion - March 27

I will try to send a brief message each day (except Mondays) while we are pausing gathering in person.
- Kara

Yesterday a friend shared this poem, and we ended our online Adult Confirmation class with it last night.
I love this poem so much. It is what we are talking about when we talk about The Way of God and The Way of Fear. This is what we mean when we talk about Sabbath Wisdom.

God is near to you today, beloved.  Right here, close.

MARY OLIVER for CORONA TIMES
(Thoughts after the poem WILD GEESE)
By: Adrie Kusserow

You do not have to become totally zen,
You do not have to use this isolation to make your marriage better,
your body slimmer, your children more creative.

You do not have to “maximize its benefits”
By using this time to work even more,
write the bestselling Corona Diaries,
Or preach the gospel of ZOOM.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body unlearn
everything capitalism has taught you,
(That you are nothing if not productive,
That consumption equals happiness,
That the most important unit is the single self.

That you are at your best when you resemble an efficient machine).

Tell me about your fictions, the ones you’ve been sold,
the ones you sheepishly sell others,
and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world as we know it is crumbling.

Meanwhile the virus is moving over the hills,
suburbs, cities, farms and trailer parks.

Meanwhile The News barks at you, harsh and addicting,
Until the push of the remote leaves a dead quiet behind,
a loneliness that hums as the heart anchors.

Meanwhile a new paradigm is composing itself in our minds,
Could birth at any moment if we clear some space
From the same tired hegemonies.

Remember, you are allowed to be still as the white birch,
Stunned by what you see,
Uselessly shedding your coils of paper skins
Because it gives you something to do.

Meanwhile, on top of everything else you are facing,
Do not let capitalism coopt this moment,
laying its whistles and train tracks across your weary heart.

Even if your life looks nothing like the Sabbath,
Your stress boa-constricting your chest.

Know that your antsy kids, your terror, your shifting moods,
Your need for a drink have every right to be here,
And are no less sacred than a yoga class.
Whoever you are, no matter how broken,
the world still has a place for you, calls to you over and over
announcing your place as legit, as forgiven,
even if you fail and fail and fail again,
remind yourself over and over,
all the swells and storms that run through your long tired body
all have their place here, now in this world.

It is your birthright to be held
deeply, warmly in the family of things,
not one cell left in the cold.

CONNECTING RITUAL:

Perhaps today at lunch time, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we might all pray this "World Peace Prayer" - either sung or spoken, which is prayed at noon in every time zone around the world, as an unbroken prayer, and so join our souls with each other and the people of the whole earth:

WORLD PEACE PRAYER
by Marty Haugen

Lead us from death to life
from falsehood to truth
from despair to hope
from fear to trust.
Lead us from hate to love
from war to peace
let peace fill our hearts
let peace fill our world
let peace fill our universe.

(Listen here)

Anxiety - a reasonable response

Daily Devotion - March 26

I will try to send a brief message each day while we are pausing gathering in person.
- Kara

I like to tell this a lot, so you've probably heard it from me, but here I go again.

A couple of years ago, on a road trip, I listened to a wonderful On Being podcast in which Krista Tippett interviewed Benedictine Monk David Steindl-Rast, who talks about the power of gratitude to reconnect us to God and each other, to ground us again in what is real.

But what stuck out to me most in this interview is how he answered her when she asked him about his perspective of living in a time where things seem so precarious and terrible.

She couldn't have known what was coming in 2020.  Nevertheless, his words made such an impact on me then, that I kept stopping and rewinding the podcast to hear them again, (while my kids groaned behind me in the car and told me to quit it).

This is what he said:

We must acknowledge our anxiety... We must acknowledge our anxiety, but we must not fear.  

There is a great difference. 

…Anxiety, or being anxious, this word comes from a root that means “narrowness,” and choking, and the original anxiety is our birth anxiety. 

We all come into this world through this very uncomfortable process of being born…. It’s really a life-and-death struggle for both the mother and the child. And that is the original, the prototype, of anxiety. 

At that time, we do it fearlessly, because fear is the resistance against this anxiety. See? If you go with it, it brings you into birth. If you resist it, you die in the womb. Or your mother dies.

So, anxiety is a reasonable response to a lot of human experience.

and we are to acknowledge it and affirm it, because to deny our anxiety is another form of resistance. 
But the fear is life destroying.

Anxiety is not optional in life, he says. It’s part of life.
 
But we can look back at our lives, at times we were in really tight spots, times of anxiety, and say to ourselves, we made it! We got through it! … In fact, the worst anxieties and the worst tight spots in our life, often, years later, when you look back at them, reveal themselves as the beginning of something completely new, a completely new life.

And that can teach us, and that can give us courage, also, now, that we think about it, in looking forward and saying, yes, this is a tight spot. …But, if we go with it,…it will be a new birth. And that is trust in life.

I have been thinking about his words today.
The grocery store was an anxious place. I felt anxious there.
But in the midst of the anxiety, and the care we took not to get too close to one another, we still saw each other, maybe more so.
We smiled, we nodded hello, we were careful to leave enough for others. When I thanked my check-out person, I choked up.  I am really thankful for her.

This is an anxious time.  Yes, this is a tight spot.  We are being squeezed.
What new life will come from this, we've yet to even speculate.
But the way God works is to bring us through death to life,
through fear to hope,
through anxiety to newness.

CONNECTING RITUAL:

Perhaps tonight before bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we might all receive this blessing, and so join our souls:

Lord, open unto me

Open unto me—light for my darkness.
Open unto me—courage for my fear.
Open unto me—hope for my despair.
Open unto me—peace for my turmoil.
Open unto me—joy for my sorrow.
Open unto me—strength for my weakness.
Open unto me—wisdom for my confusion.
Open unto me—forgiveness for my sins.
Open unto me—love for my hates.
Open unto me—thy Self for my self.
Lord, Lord, open unto me!

Amen.

• Howard Thurman (1900-1981)

Blessed are those who Mourn

Daily Devotion - March 25

I will try to send a brief message to my congregation each day (except Mondays) while we are pausing gathering in person.
- Kara

This morning I awoke to a message from a friend, about her 14 year old. "He won’t do school work. Won’t leave his room. Won’t shower. Won’t take a walk because what’s the point. I don’t know what to do. And I don’t have anything to motivate him. Or anything to take away when he won’t do schoolwork. This sucks."

I knew what she was talking about.  This was my daughter, briefly the other day. I laid her in front of an episode of Nova and we counted that as school.  It was me briefly, (a different day, thankfully than her) and I closed the door and watched 6 straight episodes of "Good Girls."  But today I had some perspective.
Her son is meeting a need.

In NVC, we talk about how needs are qualities that contribute to the flourishing of life, shared by all human beings.  One of those is the need to mourn.

The life we were in, the plans we had made, the future we were shaping, the rhythms we enjoyed or endured, they're gone. It's all paused, halted, with no end in sight to the strangeness.
Grieving is a shared human need.

My friend's son reminded me of a widower, In a kind of shock and loss. Shuffling around in a bathrobe. Not wanting to eat or get dressed. Not able to engage in life, or see what's worth living for.  Those were the actual words from my own 12 year old daughter who is usually vibrant with life, "There's nothing to live for." That is the sound of grief.
And mourning is a need that can be met.

I answered her,
He needs to grieve.
Maybe give him some really concrete way to grieve. What he’s doing is what people do when a loved one dies. Tell him to dress in black. Tell him mourning is an important way to pray, to grieve for the things that are lost- for him and for the whole world.

Give him a time frame, make it his job instead of schoolwork. "You  seem to have a calling right now to grieve. This is your job till Friday. Like monks who pray for the world on behalf of all of us. Cry if you can. Write about how bad this feels. Pray for those who are sick. Tell God. And when you’re finished you will know." So maybe not a time frame.  He will be done when the need is met."

Then a few minutes later, I added,
But maybe also say,  You have to shower and get dressed to show up to your job of mourning. (!)

Feelings & Needs
This pulled-out-of-our-lives time is a good time to pay attention to our feelings and needs.

Feelings are indicators of needs that are met or unmet.  There are not "good" feelings and "bad" feelings - they're merely signs, to show us what's going on in us.

We have a pretty limited vocabulary around feelings: happy, sad, angry, tired... but there are so many feeling words available to us.  There is satisfaction and relief in being able to name what we are really feeling.

These feeling words help us get at what our needs are, so that we can name them, and even find new strategies in this time to meet them.

FOR ADULTS -
Here is a feelings list (2 pages) and a needs list. I encourage you to print them out and refer to them throughout the day, especially when you feel stuck, or are having a strong emotion you can't identify (or someone else in your house is).

• What am I feeling? What am I needing? 
• What are they feeling? What might they be needing?

There is also an App - called "iGrok" that has the feelings and needs on your phone. (I use it frequently).

(You can watch clips of Marshall Rosenberg doing, or teaching, NVC here).

FOR KIDS & PARENTS -
We have mailed each family a set of kids Grok cards- which are feelings and needs.
They come with a booklet of games. Play some games together to get familiar with the cards and comfortable using the words.

Then - and I say this from experience - they come in really handy when someone is having a meltdown, or a shutdown, to take some guesses at feelings and needs.  Lay out cards, take guesses - Are you feeling frustrated? Annoyed?  Angry? Are you needing space?  Choice?  To see and be seen? 
And let the child - or adult! - say yes and no to different cards until they can identify and own the feelings and need.

It feels so good when you can get to the need and have it acknowledged and valued.

And if your need today is to mourn, embrace it.
Don't try to make yourself cheer up or feel something different.
Meet the need.

Here's the promise: When it is met, it will subside, and another need will arise, like gratitude, play, connection, or rest.
You can trust that this is true.

(FYI - Andy's Podcast: New Time Religion, has an episode about the virus called, "The Virus took our Future." You can listen here).

CONNECTING RITUAL:

Perhaps tonight before bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we might all receive this blessing, and so join our souls:

THE LORD’S PRAYER - NEW ZEALAND PRAYER BOOK

Eternal Spirit
Earth-Maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver,
source of all that is and that shall be,
Father and Mother of us all,
Loving God, in whom is heaven.

The hallowing of your name echoes through
the universe!

The way of your justice be followed
by the peoples of the earth!

Your heavenly will be done by all created beings!

Your commonwealth of peace and freedom
sustain our hope and come on earth.

With the bread we need for today, feed us.

In the hurts we absorb from one another, forgive us.

In times of temptation and test, spare us.

From the grip of all that is evil, free us.

For you reign in the glory of the power that is love,
now and forever.

Amen.

Keep Walking...

Daily Devotion - March 24 I will try to send a brief message to my congregation each day (except Mondays) while we are pausing gathering in person.  - Kara On Sunday afternoon - when we were all in our Sabbath time, I went on a walk in my neighborhood with Andy.  Some neighbor had placed these near the sidewalk, so you read the whole message by walking by. It was so beautiful - imagining someone sitting down and creating this, one word at a time, paint and wood, time and love, caring enough about the rest of us to set them out to be a blessing to us all. The Kingdom of God is like this. CONNECTING RITUAL: Perhaps tomorrow when we wake up, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we might all receive this blessing, and so join our souls: Peace Within May today there be peace within. May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you May you be confident knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us. - attributed to St. Thérèse of Lisieux and St. Theresa of Avila Confidentiality respected. Our mailing address is: Lake Nokomis Presbyterian Church 1620 E 46th Street Minneapolis, Mn  55407 Add us to your address book  unsubscribe from this list | update subscription preferences | view email in browser

This email was sent to kara@lakenokomispc.org why did I get this?    unsubscribe from this list    update subscription preferences Lake Nokomis Presbyterian Church · 1620 E 46th Street · Minneapolis, Mn 55407 · USA

Be Here Now

Daily Devotion - March 22

I will try to send a brief message  to my congregation each day while we are pausing gathering in person. Today's is the sermon from our online church gathering.
- Kara

 Luke 10:38-42
Martha

I was having an anxiety moment this week on the phone with my sister. This is a surreal reality we are living in, where there is no end in sight, where the threat looms, the numbers climb, the scenarios unfold, and none of them rosy. The losses pile up, big ones and little ones, the pressures build up, big ones and little ones.
And life as we’ve known it has ground to a screeching halt.  An unfathomable stop.

And the questions loom: What happens with school? With the economy? When we start getting sick or losing those we love? What happens to the vacations we had been saving for? To the job we had just gotten? To the comfortable, familiar rhythms of life?  Haircuts, and dentist appointments, and movie theaters, and coffee shops?  What are we going to do?  How are we going to get through all of this? What will this do to us?

If I want to go there, I can go there, quickly. I can elevate my heart rate and feel the adrenaline course through me.  I can get sleepless, and restless, and worried, and anxious, distracted by many things.

So as we were ramping up, pulling each other into anxiety, my sister paused, and as I have shared a couple times this week – she said something that I have been repeating to myself over and over.

From outside the urgency, she spoke truth that brought me back to the present.

She said, “There is grace for what actually happening. Never for what might happen.”
Last week Lisa introduced us to Lazarus- the resurrected man, when she preached about his sister, Mary.  He lived in his sister Martha’s house in Bethany, along with their sister Mary. These three were very close friends of Jesus, and, not having a home of his own, their house was where he went when he wanted to come home.  Since most of us are stuck in our houses, we are going to spend the next few weeks in theirs.

In this scene, we see Martha doing what women were supposed to do when they welcomed people into their home. They were supposed to be preparing – the home, the meal, the table.  Men were supposed to sit with their guests and carry on the conversation; they were allowed to live in the present. But women were supposed to be organizing and planning, and doing the work to be ready for what was next.

 Mary should be preparing too, but she decides she is going to go sit with Jesus instead, and Martha gets stuck with the work alone.
But Martha doesn’t stick with what she should be doing either, because she brings her concerns right to Jesus.  She shows us what to do with our own anxiety.

Lord, don’t you even care? She asks. Don’t you even care that she’s left me to do all the work alone?  Tell her to help me!

There is another time in scripture where Jesus’ friends said, “Lord, don’t you even care…? It was when the disciples were caught in the middle of a terrible storm, and the boat was going under, and Jesus was asleep ASLEEP in the stern.  And they shook him awake in terrified panic and said these very same words, Lord, don’t you even care… that we are dying?  Don’t you even care that we are going to drown?

And for as much as that is NOT actually where Martha is, it is where she feels like she is. I am drowning here! Tell her to help me!  I am alone! Do something!  Jesus, don’t you even care?

Don’t you care that there are not enough hospital beds or ventilators?
Don’t you even care that my retirement is dwindling away?
Don’t you even care that I lost my job?
Don't you even care that my kid is stocking groceries during a lockdown?
Don't you even care about the people stuck in refugee camps?
Don’t you even care that I can’t handle work and kids in the same space a single second longer?
It’s bad, so bad, can’t you see how bad it is? Don’t you care?

It’s the “What if?” of fear that projects the future. We are used to preparing for the worst, or the best, or any possibility that might arise.
This future-oriented, preparation kind of life is how we’ve shaped our whole society, it’s how we operate. We work for what is coming. We look toward what is coming. We live for what is coming. We make calendars, and lists, and reservations, and investments. We know how to be organizing and planning, and doing the work to be ready for what is next.

But this? This being stuck in the perpetual present?  We have no idea how to do this.
We’re stuck at home and not even living, as we’ve come to define living.
Or we’re out there where somehow the hospital and grocery store have become the front lines of something even our high tech models can’t completely predict, and we are not prepared.  We have no choice but to simply face it when it comes.

And what we want, desperately, is grace for what might be.
We want grace for the possibilities, and the dangers, and the contingencies.
We want some way to be organizing and planning, and doing the work to be ready for what is next. We want God to join us in the urgency!  To rally others to take it seriously! To get us all pointed on the solution!

But what we need is God from outside our urgency to speak truth to us.
We need the voice of “Even if…” to bring us back into the present.
Martha, Martha, Jesus says, you are worried and distracted by many things.  There is need of only one thing.  Mary has chosen the good, and it will not be taken away from her.

Just like the disciples, tossed about in the little boat in the big storm, Martha has lost sight of who is sitting in her midst.  Jesus invites her to be in the moment.  Be where Jesus is.

Jesus is inviting us to live in the truth that in life or in death we are held in the love of God. To take a deep breath, and set it all down and come back to that truth.
That nothing can separate us from the love of God.
There is never grace for what might be, only for what is.

The good life is only ever the life we are in, not the life that may be.
God’s grace is for the now.
God is making something TRULY new, right in the middle of what actually is.  Always.
We can’t stop this from happening. It’s what God does.
It is not dependent on the work that we do.
We can’t bring it about, but we can join it when it happens, right now.

Beloved one, you are you are worried and distracted by many things.  There is need of only one thing.  To be in our lives where God already is. To be here now.

God is in our living rooms.  And also in the hospital rooms, and the strategy rooms, and grocery store stock rooms, and the great wide empty streets, and resting rivers and quiet skies of the whole world; God is right here in this with us.
God is seeing us through, right now.
There is grace for what is actually happening.
Each day, right now. Right here.
God is with us.
Amen.

(This year, we are asking, "Who is this God and what is God up to?" And "What is a good life and how do we live it?" along with some of our biblical ancestors.  The sermons related to this series are here: Hannah, Mary, Anna & Simeon, John the Baptist, Samuel, David (we had a theater performance, here's an older sermon about David), The Samaritan Woman, Mary of Bethany (preached by Pastor Lisa), Martha, Lazarus, Mary Magdalene, Thomas (preached by Pastor Lisa, follow up devotion here)

Welcoming ourselves

Daily Devotion - March 20

I will try to send a brief message to my congregation each day while we are pausing gathering in person.
- Kara

 I have been repeating my sister's words to myself all day today:

"We have grace for what is actually happening. Never for what might be."

I felt that grace today.  

I realized in some ways, I have been blocking myself from receiving that grace. I have been using productivity as armor - if I keep busy I don't have to feel my disappointment, my fear, my anxiety, my cabin fever.  

If I keep busy I don't have to feel the discomfort of being.  

Today I unclenched a little bit. I tried to let the feelings come in a little more. And I tried to slow down and practice the gentleness I encouraged you all to give yourselves yesterday.

What if we gently welcomed the upheaval of emotions? 
This is an unprecedented situation. Feelings will come without warning, and they will likely surprise you. 

Here are some I've heard:

"It sounds terrible but I'm glad my mom died last year and isn't here for this."

"My family sucks.  I'm lonely and they wont hang out with me."

"I've been alone all day but I'm in the house with everyone else and I desperately need space."

"I had to run an errand and found myself wanting to drive around aimlessly and not go back home."

"I'm terrified imagining who I love will be sick and maybe die."

"I'm furious that mother in law in the hospital (for an aneurism) can't have anyone visit her and she's scared."  

Feelings are indicators of needs that are being met or unmet. They are not dangerous or threatening. They're just signals. We can listen to our feelings for what they have to tell us. We can welcome them.

I love Rumi's poem, The Guest House.

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.

meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

When the feelings come, how about practicing some self-empathy? 

My friend Jamie taught me a short-cut to self-empathy.

It goes like this: Place your hand on your own cheek and gently say, "Oh honey..."  This works for me.  I immediately feel a tenderness open up, a willingness to receive myself with care.

Or, do as she does: place your hand on your heart, and pat your chest softly, and say, "There, there..."

Treat yourself as a precious human being.  Treat yourself with the kindness you would a child, a friend, another precious human being.   May we welcome ourselves as God welcomes us.

And then, may we let God welcome us too.  
There is nothing we bear that God doesn't see and carry with us.  We can name all the feelings we have to God.  Because unless we can say what is actually happening, we can't receive the grace that God has for us right here in the real.  Grace doesn't run out, and it can't be saved up. God gives us all the we need, only when we need it.  

Let your heart speak these words:

PSALM 139:1-12

O Lord, you have searched me and known me. 

You know when I sit down and when I rise up;

   you discern my thoughts from far away. 

You search out my path and my lying down,

   and are acquainted with all my ways. 

Even before a word is on my tongue,

   O Lord, you know it completely. 

You hem me in, behind and before,

   and lay your hand upon me. 

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;

   it is so high that I cannot attain it. 

Where can I go from your spirit?

   Or where can I flee from your presence? 

If I ascend to heaven, you are there;

   if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. 

If I take the wings of the morning

   and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, 

even there your hand shall lead me,

   and your right hand shall hold me fast. 

If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me,

   and the light around me become night’, 

even the darkness is not dark to you;

   the night is as bright as the day,

   for darkness is as light to you.

May we rest ourselves in God's limitless care.

CONNECTING RITUAL:

Perhaps in the morning, when we wake up tomorrow, 

whatever time that is in each of our homes, 

we might all say this prayer, and so join our souls:

The Prayer of St. Patrick

I arise today

Through the strength of heaven;

Light of the sun,

Splendor of fire,

Speed of lightning,

Swiftness of the wind,

Depth of the sea,

Stability of the earth,

Firmness of the rock.

I arise today

Through God's strength to pilot me;

God's might to uphold me,

God's wisdom to guide me,

God's eye to look before me,

God's ear to hear me,

God's word to speak for me,

God's hand to guard me,

God's way to lie before me,

God's shield to protect me,

God's hosts to save me

Afar and anear,

Alone or in a mulitude.

Christ shield me today

Against wounding

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,

Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,

Christ on my right, Christ on my left,

Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,

Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,

Christ in the eye that sees me,

Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today

Through the mighty strength

Of the Lord of creation.