Part of the Story

Daily Devotion - May 28

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

(photo of 12 inch chunk of ash from the Lake Street fires 

on parishioner's grass, several blocks away).

Today the riots in Minneapolis have spread around the Twin Cities. Things are unfolding quickly.  The Cities are is in anguish.  

Some of us feel paralyzed by sorrow.  

Yesterday I found a way forward in in "lament" and "repent." Today added "pray."

This morning a congregant texted me. (I share this with her permission).  "I woke up to the smell of smoke from my open windows. At first I didn’t know if someone had a bonfire or if it was coming from Lake Street. The more I read, the more likely it seems to be from Lake Street."  

I couldn't respond. I was just then taking in the news from last night - the widespread destruction, the death, the unquenchable anger and sorrow, holding up Martin Luther King Jr.'s words, "Riots are the language of the unheard." We are watching the city wail. I felt unmoored by it.  I tried to gather my thoughts to respond to her, but before I could type anything, she texted again,

"This is not the whole story. This is part of the story. The world belongs to God."

These are the words we printed out on cards and mailed out to each other when the pandemic began. These are the words hanging on my fridge.  

When I read them, I felt myself land.  Physically, I actually felt a ka-thunk in my body.  YES.  Her words brought me back.  I felt myself breathe again.  I know this. I trust this.

We can look right at it all--and we should--and say, "This is part of the story."

Oh Lord, hear our prayer! God, have mercy!

But we also say, "This is not the whole story."  

Because it isn't.

For the next few minutes, we found ourselves supporting each other, she and I. With humor, reminders of God's presence, dipping in and out of our morning routines, and with the deepest truth and last word: "The World Belongs to God."

She said, "I keep looking at my backyard. It’s so green. There are flowers everywhere and the peonies are starting to bud."  

"And yet there is stench."

"The discord between the stillness and beauty and the faint but persistent smoke smell."

"The kids toys are sort of strewn about the yard, which adds promise of movement."

"And then I smell smoke again."

I took it in. I breathed. It felt holy.  

"God, in your mercy."  I responded.

Gratitude welled up in me. The moment felt sacred.

I had been seeking solutions, the right words, a place to stand, something to do, answers, a place for the confusing mix of emotions.  And she gave me back the deep reminder, and the holy work.

"This is prayer." I replied. "What you are doing right now. Noticing. Taking it in. You are praying."

And so, that is our holy work today.  

We pray.

We pray. We don't have to have answers, theories, conclusions, clarity, or even words. We don't have to solve, or understand, or know how to process what's happening, or know what to ask God for.

We just have to notice.

To hold in our gaze all the things and let them in.

The joy and pain, side by side. That life is filled with horror and beauty, both. 

We notice, we hold it up and see it.

And we trust that the world is loved by God. 

We trust that God is here. This part of the story is  honored, shared, joined, held.

And then we trust that there is more to the story than this.  That we allbelong to God. We all belong to each other. As broken or lost as that sometimes feels, it cannot be broken and will not be lost.  And even in the brokenness, healing happens. This is an important and painful part of the story.  This is not the story's end. 

All day I have felt myself saying, "God, in your mercy..."

I've been lamenting, repenting, and praying.

That means also receiving the gifts of this day - the beauty, the way life renews itself all around us at every moment. I've stopped by houses and seen faces I haven't seen in three months. That filled me with joy. I planted new green things into the rich, black earth, under blue sky.  These things are part of the story too. And they are not the whole story.  

Both-And.  

But no matter what, now, and always, the world belongs to God.  And the end of the story is love.  It's the love we are longing to see right now.  

So we watch and we pray.

_____________

Can I help in some way? 

If you are looking for somewhere to donate, something to do to help in some way, Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, a block from the center of yesterday's riots, is serving as a medical site and response team. For more, and a link to donate, see this facebook post today from my colleague, Rev. Ingrid Rasmussen, pastor at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church.

______________________________

CONNECTING RITUAL:

Perhaps tonight before bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we and so join our souls with each other:

Tonight, perhaps we can practice both lamenting and repenting, through speaking or singing these words, until we've felt ourselves emptied out and filled up.

Prayer of Noticing:
What can you notice today?
What feelings, longings, moments, events rise up?
 Let whatever arises come.
Respond to each noticing with, "God in your mercy..." or "Oh, Lord, hear my prayer" or "Thanks be to God."