Pastor Sabbath Retreat

In a few weeks, I will be offering a thing. Spots are limited, and registration closes July 12.  

Step away from the busy.
Come receive the gift of rest.

Please join me at the beautiful and serene
Christ’s Peace House of Prayer in Easton, Kansas July 29-31.
You will be surrounded by woods, trails and fields, with delicious food, peace and quiet, and the time marked by sunrise, sunset, simple meals and optional prayer practices and journaling prompts. 

Two day silent retreat.

It's been adapted for COVID: We will have a short gathering via zoom beforehand to prepare, and afterwards to debrief, with a two day respite from the world in between. Chapel and grounds will be available for individual meditation. Social distancing precautions will be taken.

Stay in a cabin by yourself, or a private room with bathroom in the lodge.

As of now, there are 4 solo cabins remaining, and 4 rooms in the lodge.

To find out more and register, go to rootcreative.org and select the tab for Pastor Sabbath Retreat, or go here.

True Freedom

Devotion for Being Apart -
June 28

This summer, I will share new devotions from time to time,
and invite you to browse through previous devotions that have been shared on this blog.

Romans 6:15-23
What then? Should we act disconnected from God and each other because we are not under the law but under grace?  Absolutely not! Don’t you know that you are either ruled over by division and brokenness that leads to death, or by living the way you were made to live, which leads to connection to God and each other?
Thanks be to God, we who were once ruled over by division have become obedient from the heart to the message of true freedom that is now ours to share.  Having been set free from isolation and disconnection we are now ruled by our true connection with God and each other.
Where once we found ourselves trapped in cycles of hostility, and greater and greater division and contempt, now we can be ruled by belonging to God and each other, for greater and greater connection and wholeness.
When we were slaves of destruction and division, we didn’t have to worry about being in right relationship to anyone.  So what did that gain us other than shame and regret?  Those actions lead only to deadness.  But now that we’ve been freed from division and brought under the power and leadership of God, what we gain is deeper and deeper belonging.  The end result is lasting connection, freedom and life.  What we pay for division and contempt is death, but God freely gives us life filled with belonging and wholeness in Christ Jesus.
(paraphrased by Kara Root)

Last week I took my son to the barber.  The sign on the door said masks were required.  Inside with us were two barbers, and one other client, all wearing masks. Then there was one barber without a client and without a mask. In this small space, he talked and talked and talked, loudly, and I imagined his aerosols billowing through the air surrounding us all.  I sat rigid; rage roiling inside me.  How could he be breaking the rule posted on the door?  Didn’t he care about anyone else?  What arrogance! What selfishness!

For a half hour, I wrestled with my anger, and tried to get to through my fierce judgment to some empathy for myself and for him.  I stoked my courage and practiced my words, and when Owen’s haircut was finished I told him to wait in the car.  Heart pounding, I was about to say something when the man stood, put on a mask, and welcomed in his next masked client.

I was shaking when I paid our barber, and I weakly told him I had been really uncomfortable that the other barber had not been wearing a mask.

Oh friends. This is just one of my many mighty Mask Moments.  I almost never say something in real life to the actual person, but I have spent more hours than I care to acknowledge having those conversations in my head– even going so far as to mentally design a card I might keep a stack of in my purse to somehow pass to the offending person while staying six feet away from them informing them of the importance of mask wearing. I don’t have a lot of energy for much else in life right now, but wow, can I find energy for this.

There are two views of freedom.  Philosopher Isaiah Berlin calls them “negative liberty” and “positive liberty.” Negative liberty says freedom comes when we take away constraints. “It’s a free country; I can do what I want.”  Positive liberty says freedom is when everyone has what they need to live full lives. By this definition, this has never been a free country.

In our scripture today, Paul says, You can live in your negative liberty, not bound by anything or anyone. But all that gets you is more isolation and deadness.  To pretend we are not connected violates our very being, and dehumanizes others.

To be free, then, as Paul describes it, is to let our lives be ruled by being children of God who belong to each other.  By that token, wearing a mask is a simple way to live in positive liberty and real freedom.  We don’t wear it for ourselves; we wear it to protect each other. We wear it to contribute to well-being for each other, for all.

Luther and Bonhoeffer talk about it as false freedom that is free from, and true freedom that is free for.  We are free for each other, free for God, free for life.

Except here’s the thing. In the moment when I am dutifully wearing my mask and someone near me is not, I do not feel free. I feel trapped in anger and despair. And I don't even want to be for them! I want to be free from them!  Free from their selfishness, from the risk they are creating, free from the consequences of their actions in our society – the extension of this virus.  In fact, I want so badly to be free from this pandemic, that anyone working against that goal feels like an enemy.

And besides, if I wear a mask, I get to show that I am on the right side of things. I get to show that I care about others, where, clearly, they do not.

And suddenly this action that should be about belonging to each other becomes about judgment and self-justification, and it contributes to greater division and contempt.  And now Paul would lump me right into his definition of sin, and say I am living under the law and not under grace.

So what would it look like to actually be free?

In the first century something happened to the Christian church that exploded its numbers, and took it from a small obscure sect, to something big enough to eventually be noticed by Constantine and made into the official religion of the Roman Empire.  That something was an epidemic.
When a plague came to Rome, everyone with any means fled-  even the doctors left the city – and went to the Italian countryside to protect themselves and keep themselves alive. They exercised their liberty, their freedom, and got themselves out of harm’s way.
Except the poor and the sick could not leave; they were forced to stay.  So the Christians stayed too, and cared for them.  Christian women, in particular, nursed the sick.  Two things resulted – the first is that compassion was revealed as central to the message of this new religion. Compassion became a calling, nursing the sick a mark of the Christian church – which, in part, is why Christianity is responsible for the creation of more hospitals than any other institution.
But second, mysteriously, many of these Christians didn’t die.  It seemed to the rest of the society that they were mysteriously and supernaturally protected from death.  That may be. It’s also likely that they developed immunity, which allowed them to keep nursing the weak.  And these women could trust that if they were to fall ill, they too would be nursed.

They did not care for the vulnerable because they thought the plague was fake, or that God would protect them and not others, or because they wanted to prove they were better than other people. They put themselves at risk to care for the vulnerable because the only way we are truly alive, truly free, is to live free for our neighbor, free for the most vulnerable and weakest among us. Plague or no plague - we belong to God and each other.  And they were so intriguing to the greater populace because they seemed to be without fear.  Weren’t they afraid of dying?

This is the deepest mark of the Christian.  According to Paul, we have already died with Christ, and been risen to new life.  In life and in death, we belong to God.  No matter what, our true life is found in connection to God and each other, and we are free to live it without fear – even of death.

True freedom extends deep and wide. Whatever the behavior of others or the circumstances around us, we can still be free.
We are free to love, and serve, and care for one another.
We are free to face our complicity in racism and look at our history with unflinching gaze and grief that could open us up to a new way.
We are free to receive criticism from others without dread that it will destroy us.
We are free to speak out when we see harm being done to another person, and free to repent and ask forgiveness when our words or actions have harmed another person.
We are free to honor our limitations as human beings, free to rest when we are tired, free to say so when we need help and free to receive support from others.
We are free to have our prejudices dismantled and to be surprised by each other’s and humanity. There are no sides in the Kingdom of God.  There is just broken and beloved humanity, all of us, belonging always to a steadfast and faithful God.

When we try to live free from God and others, we end up ruled over by the need to earn or prove something, or bound to act out of obligation and duty, or dominated by anger or contempt.  But when we surrender to our weakness and stuckness, and let what we thought was liberty be exposed as chains, we find our true freedom not in what we do for ourselves or in what others do or don’t do, but in what Christ has done for us all. We die to sin and are made alive to our true humanity in Christ, set free to live toward each other and toward God.

A half hour after leaving the barber shop, I got a text from an unknown number.  “Hi, is this Kara? This is Chris, the owner of the barber shop. I want to apologize for not wearing my mask after my appointment today when you were in the shop. I completely understand and sincerely apologize. I had gotten into the habit of pulling my mask down between appointments and feel awful if I made you uncomfortable while you were in today. I hope you can accept my apology and know that I do sincerely apologize.” 

I was surprised and flooded with gratitude.  I could have been free from him–In negative liberty, I was “free” to leave there and never go back. Good riddance!  But I had struggled so hard to find my humanity and his in the midst of that, and saying something to our barber was the closest I could get. I mostly still felt trapped in anger, stuck in judgment and anxiety.

Barbershop Chris had his negative liberty too; he could have been free from me. He could have written me off and never given me a second thought.  But instead he was free for me. He acted from our belonging to each other, and when he was free for me he helped me be free too.

I texted back my gratitude and we wished each other well. And I took a deep breath and thanked God for way Christ had met me in Chris.

Life is messy and being human is hard.
May we continue to be ruled by freedom, to be with and for each other, and there find our life.  Amen.

---

CONNECTING RITUAL:

Perhaps tonight before bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we can pray in this way, and so join our souls with each other and the people of the whole earth:

O Lord, release me from false freedom this night,
and bring me to wholeness and life in the new day.

Release me from judgment and fear,
make me free for curiosity and compassion.

Release me from anger and despair,
make me free for mourning and trust.

Release me from comparison and striving,
make me free for generosity and ease.

Release me from isolation and self-preservation,
make me free for connection and belonging.

May I seek your face in the faces of others.
May I find my place here among all others.
Lead me through death to new life again, O God.

Rest me in you this night.
Awaken me in you in the new day.
Amen.

Our Sabbath of Discomfort

Devotion for Being Apart -
June 25

This summer, I will share new devotions from time to time,
and invite you to browse through the many devotions that have been posted on this blog 

since March 16.
 

Matthew 6:33-34 says, "But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. ‘So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today."

Every pastor and church I know is doing the hard work of shifting mindsets right now, out of the pull-out-all-the-stops, short-term, full-throttled approach we took when we thought this thing would go on for a few weeks, to a settle-in-and-find-sustainable-ways-to-continue mentality.

One thing our session (church board) decided in May was to not even to discuss in-person gatherings in the church building until September 1. After thinking we should get a jumpstart on figuring some things out, we've decided that decision will remain.  

This is a long season.  We will know more then than we know now.  We don't have the energy to put to hypothetical scenarios--the concrete ones in front of us are where our energy is needed - "today's trouble is enough for today." 

It's tempting to begin making plans, but there is nothing to plan for yet.  In fact, this time of year, we usually begin planning for Fall. Our worship planning team takes a retreat to plot out the next year. We talk through Advent and Christmas, and sometimes we even get through Lent and Easter in our dreaming. Not this year.  Our ordinary church life is at a forced rest - we didn't choose it; it just came.  What we had has stopped, and we are living in what we have now.

We bought a VBS curriculum a couple weeks ago designed to use online, so that we could create our own all-ages VBS together in this time. But friends, I can't lead that. And nobody on session feels called to lead it. So unless someone in the congregation steps up and says, “I really want to lead this!” - it should not happen right now. (The VBS curriculum won't expire. It can be used ANY time, in a variety of ways, even completely in-person!).  It seems perhaps don’t have energy for more than what we are doing right now. Pulling back and slowing down seems to be what people are needing. And it's what we're getting too, if we can let ourselves receive it.

 

Our congregation talks about sabbath, and learns about sabbath, and have practiced sabbath in some specific, defined ways.  But sometimes we are given a sabbath.  And perhaps right now we are meeting a need for sabbath. 

There will be a chapter after this one.  But we don’t know what it will look like or what new calling and energy will come for that.  It’s ok to live in this chapter fully, which is a week-to-week kind of existence for us all.

This is a time of sitting in discomfort. Discomfort is so uncomfortable. 

Who wants to be uncomfortable? We want to avoid or escape it.  We want to plan ahead, and to fix what's broken with everything around us right now.  Or we want to numb and tune out the discomfort with alcohol, drugs, television, video games, food, or obsessing about the people who refuse to wear masks.

But what if we didn't try to avoid or escape our sabbath of discomfort? What if we stayed right here?  What if we accepted that this is a season for sitting in discomfort.  The discomfort of limitations in where we can go and what we can do. The discomfort of facing our history and our own complicity in systemic dehumanization. The discomfort of not being able to live like the ever-future-oriented modern people we are.  The discomfort of living these awkward pandemic routines we didn't choose, for far longer than we thought we would be.  This is a season for staying here.

There is richness in allowing ourselves to be uncomfortable.  We let things germinate and heal and grow.  Even in the discomfort, this pulled-back and slowed-down pace is doing deep sabbath work in us.  It helps us to rest from what has been, and it prepares us for what will be. This is a time to stay attentive to the moment, and reflective as we do so.

I have written something like 100 devotions since pandemic life began. I first committed to writing one every day, and did that for months, then 4-5 times a week. I am pulling back from that. I will write when I have something new to say.  And I will share some of what I've already written, or point you to where they are stored on my blog, because I am finding it helpful to circle back and reread some of the work we've done earlier in this season of covid - things like learning to listen to our needs  and how it's ok to not be happy, and how every day we are making really hard choices about things that used to be simple and require no decisions at all, and how there is always grace enough for what is, not for what might be.

Sabbath is rarely comfortable. (We already knew that).  But it's good. (We know that too). Staying in the discomfort of the moment is our sabbath task right now. "God is doing something here and now that incorporates the past and will lead us into the future," remember? Let's live the season we are in.

We can do this.
 

---

CONNECTING RITUAL:

 

Perhaps tonight before bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we can pray in this way, and so join our souls with each other and the people of the whole earth:

Matthew 6:33-34 says, "But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. ‘So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today."

Seek ye first the Kingdom of God
and God's righteousness
and all these things will be added unto you
Allelu, Alleluia.
Ask and it shall be given unto you
Seek and ye shall find
Knock and the door shall be opened unto you
Allelu, Alleluia.

God, help me live today.
Help me trust today.
Help me be present today.
Help me seek you today.
Help me live this day - the one I have, right now.
Amen.

Context

Devotion for Being Apart -
June 18

We will share a devotion Sundays, Mondays, and Wednesdays through Fridays.
- Kara

Today the confirmation class and I met to talk about what we're reading in our Action Bibles.  These are funny pandemic-era gatherings, facetiming from wherever we are: in bedrooms, on porches, buckled into back seats of cars.  We talk about something that we thought was strange, or confusing, or interesting from the bible reading.

We've made it into the wilderness with the Hebrews, and today one of them commented how over, and over, and over again, the Israelite people forgot that God takes care of them.  God keeps getting them out of impossible circumstances, and they say, "You're our God and we will always worship you!" Then the next page they've boiled down their jewelry and made an idol because it took Moses too long to get back from the mountain and they got impatient and anxious without a leader.

But God stays faithful. And once in what we read, God was ready to give up on them and Moses reminded God of God's promise to be faithful, and wondered aloud what the neighboring people would think of God if it turns out the God of the Israelites doesn't keep promises.  (Those biblical folks were so brazen in their conversations with the Divine!)

There are all sorts of things in the bible I forgot were there.  And we are stumbling onto them in graphic novel form.  Today we read Aaron's blessing over the freed slaves, "The Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you, the Lord lift his countenance upon you, and give you peace."  This is the blessing that my husband has prayed over our kids at bedtime since their birth.  And here is its origin: a disoriented, exhausted people, freed from slavery but stuck in the wilderness, learning how to trust God and messing up a lot.  And here is God, faithful, again, and again, and again, meeting them in impossible situations and reminding them they belong to God and God will continue to take care of them.

We are part of a long and ancient story, filled with confused, impatient and anxious people, messing up and learning to trust, and centered on an eternally steadfast and faithful God.
Thanks be to God.

---

CONNECTING RITUAL:

Perhaps tonight before bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we can pray in this way, and so join our souls with each other and the people of the whole earth:

Maybe tonight we can pray that blessing on ourselves, on each other. Placing a hand on a head (partner, child, dog, your own) say these words,

The Lord bless you and keep you,
The Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you,
The Lord lift his countenance upon you and give you peace.

or

God loves you and holds you.
May God smile on you and meet you with all the grace you need.
May God look you full in the face, and fill you with peace.

or, if you're alone:

God loves me and holds me.
God smiles on me and meets me with all the grace I need.
God looks me full in the face, and fills me with peace.

It's ok to not be happy

Devotion for Being Apart -
June 17

We will share a devotion Sundays, Mondays, and Wednesdays through Fridays.
- Kara

I saw a fleeting headline today that Americans' happiness measure is the lowest it's been in over 50 years. I am not surprised. I feel it in myself. I had a burst of rally at the beginning of the pandemic - kicked it into productivity mode and met the challenge head on. Then it went on, and on, and on, and still there is no conceivable end in sight.

Then the collective trauma swept in from another angle, as our city cried out about the death of George Floyd, and the issues of systemic racism and police brutality that we've circled around for decades were thrown into the open and are now being talked about with more honesty and clarity possibly than ever before.  It's feeling like an open wound we're really eager (and perhaps a bit impatient) to heal.  But this too has gone on a long time, centuries, and the pain of it will continue, even as the healing happens. Healing is a painful and slow process, and this thing is deeper and more pervasive than we've often let ourselves acknowledge. There's going to need to to be prodding and poking, and exposing infection and cutting out death, and cleansing and tending to this, for a very long time. Truthfully, there is no end in sight.

And the future continues to be on hold.  Things continue to get canceled.  The economy continues to teeter.  Stability continues to feel like a shaky prospect.  And making even little plans is getting more complicated instead of less - because it feels like we're in it on our own to figure out how to navigate things without cohesive guidance or mutual agreement about what that should look like. And the virus rages on - it's not done, even though we are so done with it.

So unknown remains the biggest factor of life right now.  We just keep living, day after day, in the unknown.  With no end in sight.  Kind of hard to feel "happy."  Thank God for the moments we do, but much of the time we're too busy feeling all sorts of other muddled things.  And rightfully so.

It's ok to not be happy.
That's not a very modern American thing to say.  We think being happy is the highest goal in life. But it's not.
Other goals might be: to be real. To be connected. To be awake to this life. To share in it.  To contribute. To take it in with gratitude. To leave it having helped somewhat. To know God and each other and ourselves.  To uphold each other as human beings.

I feel generally kind of rotten. It feels important to say that.  There's no shame in being tired, worn out, discouraged, or depressed, depleted or weary or anxious. It's an anxious time. I am trying to recognize and have compassion for myself in the anxiety, (the "squeezing" - we said back in March that anxiety was a reasonable response. It still is.).
I'm reminding myself that I can trust that new life comes out of these times, and it's not because we put on a happy face and power through.

I am not pretending things are fine.  I am not throwing myself into the fray, ignoring my sadness or fatigue. And bonus: I am exposing the idol of happiness in my life. That allows me to refocus my aim on being present and true.

How are you today?  What are you feeling and needing today?  
I hate coming back to this again and again, but I think again my need is for mourning.  At least, it eases my tension and anxiety when I realize that's a need I can meet.  And I am meeting it anyway - whether it's by being short and irritable with my family and pretending it's their fault, or letting myself sit down and have a good cry.  I can choose how I want to meet the need to mourn.  And I can let others in my home meet the need for mourning too, without trying to make them be "happy," when happiness doesn't make a ton of sense right now.

One gift of trying hard to stay honest in this time and not hide it, is that we get to receive care.  I'm not super good at this - I would way rather give care than receive it. But to be human is to do both.  We are all ministers, after all, made in the image of the Divine Minister.  We are created to give and receive care with each other. I do believe that's the whole purpose of this life - we're here to care for one another and receive each other's care. It's how we experience what's real: that we belong to God and we belong to each other - with no end in sight.

Today my friend Lilly Lewin sent me a text:
"Sending you a bit of beauty in the midst of all the messiness of life!"
She attached this photo, and the following prayer and scripture.
It was just what my soul needed; she brought me back to my belonging to God and others by showing me care.
Perhaps it is what your soul needs today too?
(It's ok if it's not.  If it's not - what does your soul need today? How can you be honest with yourself about that need, and maybe even share that need with another?)



O Holy Spirit, give me stillness of soul in you.
Calm the turmoil within, with the gentleness of your peace.
Quiet the anxiety within, with a deep trust in you.
Heal the wounds of sin within, with the joy of your forgiveness.
Strengthen the faith within, with the awareness of your presence.
Confirm the hope within, with the knowledge of your strength.
Give fullness to the love within, with an outpouring of your love.
O Holy Spirit, be to me a source of light, strength and courage
so that I may hear your call ever more clearly
and follow you more generously.

- William Browning, CP, "An Anxious Person's Prayer"

Come to me all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls."

- Matthew 11:28-29

---

CONNECTING RITUAL:

Perhaps tonight before bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we can pray in this way, and so join our souls with each other and the people of the whole earth:

God, another day is ended, another day begins.
Still me in your rest.
Quiet me in your strength.
Sustain me through the unknown.
May I surrender now to sleep,
entrusting myself to you,
just as I am.

When I awaken to a new day,
give me courage to feel what I am feeling,
to be right where I am.
Give me opportunities to care for others,
chances to receive care from others,
and grace to care for myself.

Thank you for this day that is ending,
for the healing happening,
and the hope taking root,
for the disorientation of the unknown,
that drives me to seek you,
and for the ways our shared pain
connects us more deeply
to you and each other.

Thank you for your presence with me
still
always,
right now, and
in the day I will wake up to tomorrow,

Your love holds me,

and holds this world,

with no end in sight.
Amen.

While we are weak

Devotion for Being Apart -

June 14

We will share a devotion Sundays, Mondays, and Wednesdays through Fridays.

- Kara

 

Romans 5:1-8

Very often, we let fear tell us who we are instead of faith.  But, while we were weak, Paul says, while we were helpless to earn a thing, unable on our own to choose anything but our own demise, Christ died for us.  

 While we were enemies, God reconciled us to each other. God didn’t say Get it a little more together first, and get back to me. God didn't say, You're on your own with this one.  

God said, Now, you, just as you are, in the farthest from me and each other that you can be, and the most against me and each other that you can get, I choose you. I love you. I claim and forgive and welcome you.

Christ took on our division from God, and our violence against each other, into God’s own self.  In his own human body, it was put to death, and with Christ we were raised to life, so that our relationship to God is Christ’s relationship to God – we are inside the love of the Father to the Son and that cannot be broken.

 

Let's be clear: suffering is not good. Suffering is terrible. It is suffering.  But that doesn’t stop God for a second. Nothing can stop God’s love and redemption.  Not worry or fear or apathy or depression, not systemic evil or our own cruelty or ignorance, not even the most terrible thing we can dream up, or do, or experience, has the power to stop God’s love.

 

What Paul is saying here is not prescriptive, it’s descriptive; he’s not telling us what to think or feel or believe about suffering, he’s showing us something true. Nothing can stop the mighty love of God.  It’s love so powerful that that it can make hope out of suffering.  It’s love that shapes us for life that belongs to God and each other, by forming in us endurance and character, and bringing us to hope, which David Steindl-Rast calls, “passion for the possible.” Hope is “the future of God that doesn’t come later.”  He says, “hope happens when the bottom drops out of pessimism.  We have nowhere to fall but into the ultimate reality of God's motherly caring.”

 

Sometimes we are going to feel peace. Sometimes we will feel strong and sure and steady. We will trust and know that God is at work, and we will confidently join in. Thank God for those times.

Other times - maybe more often right now - we will feel weak. We will slip into believing lies, trusting fear, letting worry or despair tell us what is real, and either knowingly or unknowingly participating in destruction. But it is not our faithfulness that saves us, it’s God’s.  It’s not our great attitude, or good work, or consistent trust, or tireless efforts that change the world, it's God’s love, God’s grace, God’s redemption.  May we fall into the motherly care of God, to receive that grace for ourselves and offer it to each other. 

---

CONNECTING RITUAL:

 

Perhaps tonight before bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we can pray in this way, and so join our souls with each other and the people of the whole earth:

Lord, I am weak. 
I am incapable of trusting, unable to live in freedom, 
and I keep on choosing bondage instead of life.  
But I see the power of your love. 
I see what forgiveness can do, and what hope opens up; 
I have experienced your grace 
and I want to be part of it with my whole being. 
I want faith to tell me what is real instead of fear. 

So God, I lift up to you now those places of fear, where I long to see your presence and activity in my life and in the world....

And I lift up those places of hope, where I have seen your love and tasted your joy....

Help me trust in your faithfulness. 
Help me believe that you always bring life out of death,
 and trust that you will bring life from the places of death 
within and around me right now. 
I want my life to participate – to grieve, and forgive ,and set free, and heal, and welcome, and repent, and witness your redemption every single day; Lord, use me.
Connect my being again to your own,
and to all others,
that I may know you love us, 
and that my living may flow from that truth. 

Amen.

Tend Life

Devotion for Being Apart -
June 12

I will share a devotion Sundays, and Wednesdays through Fridays.
- Kara

I repotted the church peace plant yesterday.
It had outgrown its pot - the one session planted it in nearly twelve years ago.
You can read more about that plant here.

It made me think about how we are changing and growing during this, in ways we don't yet understand and maybe can't yet see. It made me wonder about what kinds of containers will support our life together in the chapters after this one.

And it made me come back to the moment - it was also a tactile thing to do that used my body (it's heavy!) and needed my attention, and it wasn't crisis or worry or fatigue.  It was simple.  Instead of being consumed with the unknown, I was consciously tending life.

I saw my hairdresser today for the first time since January (!) She had taken six weeks off for surgery just before the pandemic hit.  I texted her when she left telling her to go easy on herself, that my experience with any surgery has been that your body takes longer to recover than you think it will.
Today she thanked me for that text, and said it helped her, because even though they told her six weeks, it's been four months and she only this week feels like she is recovered.  We talked about how hard it is to let your body do what it needs to, but also how amazing it is that your body does get there.  Healing is really hard work. It takes exactly the amount of time that it needs to take.

I am finding that a lot these days. I have an agenda for my body. It is night - I will sleep now and wake up rested.  I am taking the day off - I will get the rest and energy I need and come back ready.  Or for my mind -  I have this thing to accomplish and will focus and get it done in the amount of time I have set aside for it.  Or my children - you can cry and get over it and move on in a logical amount of time, right?  We have that with our society  - it would be nice to be done fighting about things. It would be lovely to recognize the problem of racism and then get it fixed and done with, whether out there or inside our own selves.  But it doesn't work that way.  Change is slow, deep work, that takes remembering again and again, noticing again and again, coming back to what's actually here and letting things heal and unfold because we are tending the life. 

And in the midst of all this - we are still sick and getting each other sick - with an actual virus, which we can't see and can't just fix.  This is exhausting. We wish it were over. Shouldn't it be over by now? Maybe if we act like it's over, that will make it over? Alas, it isn't so.  We must live the moment we are in right now.  It's the only way.

So, tend life. Within you, around you. Instead of being consumed with the unknown, be in this moment, and right here, tend life. Put your hands in the dirt. Take naps. Notice hunger and eat. Let tears come when they want to, for as long as they want to.  Laughter too. See the invitations in front of you and respond - there is life popping up all around us, calling to us to join in.  Be gentle with those around you. Be gentle with yourself. We are changing and growing during this, in ways we don't yet understand and maybe can't yet see.  That's really hard work. Let it happen in the way it needs to.  

---

CONNECTING RITUAL:

Perhaps tonight before bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, weight pray on this way and so join our souls with each other and the people of the whole earth:

Lord God,
you have called your servants to ventures
of which we cannot see the ending,
by paths yet untrodden,
through perils unknown.
Give us faith to go out with good courage,
not knowing where we go,
but only that your hand is leading us
and your love supporting us;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
AMEN

(From the Lutherans - I am not sure what book but I hear them use this prayer a lot!)

Passion for What is Possible

Devotion for Being Apart - June 11

I will share a devotion Sundays, and Wednesdays through Fridays.

- Kara

David Steindl-Rast, in Gratefulness, the Heart of Prayer, calls hope, "opennesss for a future that does not come later."

He says,

Some people imagine that hope is the highest degree of optimism, a kind of super-optimism.... A far more accurate picture would be the hope happens when the bottom drops out of pessimism.  We have nowhere to fall but into the ultimate reality of God's motherly caring.

He goes on to say:

On Easter morning the angel announces the resurrection of Jesus, not by saying, "Here he is; he has come back to life!" No. Looking for him in that way would mean looking for the living one among the dead. He is not here. Nor is he alive with our aliveness that is closer to death than to life. "He is risen" runs the good news, and "He is not here." All we can experience from the perspective of our deathbound living is that the tomb is open and empty, a fitting image for wide open hope.

Hope shares the ambiguity of Jesus' cross. Hope is a passion for what is possible... And since patience is as contagious as impatience, it will also be our way of strengthening each other's hope.

I love the idea that hope is openness for a future that does not come later.  And that we're closer to getting there through pessimism than optimism.  And that we get there when the bottom drops out and we end up in God's motherly care.  The aliveness God brings is not the aliveness that is closer to death than to life, it's something new and different, and we sit gaping open longing for it.

I also love the idea that patience is as contagious as impatience.  (Because wow, impatience is contagious).  It invites imagining what contagious patience might look like, how we might embody that, how it might impact those around us.  And it's something we can do to strengthen each other; it's how we can go toward hope.  We don't placate ourselves or others with optimism. We let the bottom drop out of our pessimism.  We approach the empty tomb with perplexed patience, in the midst of our deathbound living, and let a wide open hope take hold in us.

 

---

CONNECTING RITUAL: 

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

God of all times and outside all time,
cultivate in me openness for your future that doesn't come later.
Give me honesty, even unto pessimism.
Hold me in your motherly care.
Bring us through death to real aliveness. 

Teach me to recognize real aliveness,

let me be seized by passion for what is possible.

Give me contagious patience,
to wait for hope.

May a wide open hope meet me,

O Lord, I wait.

Amen.
 

Hope, right now

Devotion for Being Apart - June 7

I will be sharing a devotion Sundays, and Wednesdays through Fridays.
- Kara

Psalm 27

These are intense times, when it feels like so much is falling apart – and probably it needed to fall apart – the climate is at a breaking point, the deep disease of racism has been festering at our nation’s core since its founding, the inequity in healthcare and our economic structures, the vitriol in our politics, they all continued to plug along in devastating dysfunction.  But now it feels like everything has burst open and is a leaking mess.  After three months sitting in our time-out corners, we can see how badly broken and destructive it all really is.  

But we are people of hope. We are people who trust what we cannot see.  So what is our hope?  And how do we live in hope, especially when things feel devastating and hopeless.

One answer has been, our hope is that one day this mortal life will be over and we will be with God. That is hopeful.  And we will be. But that’s not the hope this scripture give us when it says, “I believe I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.”  That is hope for later on, this is hope for right now.  I will see God’s goodness in this place, for these people, while we are living this life. 

Another way hope has been framed defines God’s goodness by human ideas of goodness.  Our culture values upward mobility, endless accumulation, and measurable results. We worship security, independence and happiness. We might think it’s God job to give us those things.  Is the goodness of the Lord the promise of financial security? Guaranteed good health? Assurance that bad things wont happen to you?

My uncle believed he’d beat cancer through prayer and faith in God.  Last week, the pastor at his funeral said, “We are shocked. We all thought he would be healed.”  Why? Because we modern people see goodness as the absence of suffering, the stability of health, the achievement of the goals and future we had planned for ourselves. We think a good life is security, independence and happiness, and put our hope in God to provide that.  What if God doesn’t?  Where is our hope then?  Near the end, my uncle’s hope shifted, and he began to find hope in being with God when his life was over, and in that he had peace. But the horror of leaving this life, and leaving behind his family, never left him.  

A third way Christians have seen hope has been to treat Jesus as a model for how we are to live and act as though the work of God is now entirely in our hands. Not so different from interpreting God’s goodness as permanent health or stability, we equate God’s goodness with communal health or stability.  

We put ambitious, noble goals in front of us, like the end of poverty our lifetime, guaranteed equality for all, reversing climate destruction – and then every moment we are not working toward that goal feels like wasted time, and every action - purposeful or unintentional - that counters that goal feels like lost ground or personal shame, and everyone working on other goals feels like a competitor. 

A few years ago, someone crept through my neighborhood in the night and stapled big, cardboard, painted flowers at the base of the telephone poles, to look like they were growing up out of the sidewalk, two feet tall and brightly colored.  On one pole, above the flower at eye level, a painted calligraphy sign was attached, that said, “Live like the world should be to show the world what it can be.”  It’s a beautiful sentiment, but In this view, hope is something we must provide for others.

Hear this: our hope is not just for after this life. Christianity is not a religion of escape; it’s trust in the God who joins us here. 

Our hope is not for our own security, independence or happiness.  Christianity is not a religion to soothe our fears or avoid suffering; it’s trust in the God who joins us here. 
And our hope is not that enough of us striving and working can bring God’s vision to fruition.  Christianity is not a religion of positive progress, or a blueprint for social change; it’s trust in the God who joins us here.

We have talked before about eschatological imagination.  But it might help to define again what these words mean.

Imagination is the forming of new ideas, images or concepts of outside things not present to the senses.  And eschatology, or what my kids used to call “the very, very end,” is that part of theology – or thinking about God - that is concerned with the final destiny of humankind.

So to have ‘eschatological imagination’ is to live into God’s final destiny for humanity, right now.  It’s letting our understanding of a good life be shaped by God’s trajectory, and live now where the story will arrive in the very, very end.  

So instead of ““Live like the world should be to show the world what it can be,” the sign above the cardboard flowers of eschatological imagination would say, “Live like the world will be to show the world what really is.”

“I believe I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living,” means I trust I will see God doing something here and now, in visible, tangible, joinable ways.  I’ll see God’s goodness, not ours.  We don’t pine for it someday far away or bring it into being with our human efforts.  We trust God to bring it. “Wait for the Lord. Have courage and watch for God.” the scripture goes on to say. 

And we will see God’s goodness not when everything is all better, but now, in the brokenness, in the cries for justice and the suffering of injustice, in the midst of an earth in crisis, in the grips of a worldwide illness, the corruption of governments and the selfishness of commerce notwithstanding, not apart from but right within the frailty of the human body and the vulnerability of human bonds.

A big word of eschatological imagination is nevertheless.  Nevertheless, we will see the goodness of God, anyway.  Here. now. 

We become people who are always asking, “What is God up to?” in every circumstance, especially the godforsaken ones. Not just because God is present and working in all circumstances, but because Jesus comes especially into godforsakenness, when, by own his unjust, politicized, and brutal death, and raising us to newness of life, he spoke the final and authoritative nevertheless.

The Lord is my light and my salvation;
   whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life;
   of whom shall I be afraid? 

God is trustworthy.  This is our hope.  To trust God is to live by imagination shaped by the final destiny of humankind. The very, very end will be love, wholeness, joy, peace, belonging for all.  So we live love now, we seek wholeness now, we take pleasure in life’s joy now.  We join in peace, and practice belonging because they are more real and more permanent than the discord and division we see in front of us.  

We want to see the world as God sees it, to trust our lives to the story God is telling, and let our lives be shaped by the ending to the story, right now and nevertheless.  When we live like the world will be we will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

So be strong and let your heart take courage. Wait for the Lord.

CONNECTING RITUAL:

 

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

Today we sang this together. Perhaps before bed, you might sing or recite this a few times.

The Lord is my light,
my light and salvation,
in God I trust, in God I trust.
The Lord is my light,
my light and salvation,
in God I trust, in God I trust.

I will see your goodness in the land of the land of the living.
I will wait with courage for the Lord will come.
 I will see your goodness in the land of the land of the living.
I will wait with courage for the Lord will come.
 

The Lord is my light,
my light and salvation,
in God I trust, in God I trust.
The Lord is my light,
my light and salvation,
in God I trust, in God I trust.

Boundaries & Choices

Daily Devotion - June 5

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

my view of my uncle's funeral

On Wednesday we drove 2 1/2 hours into Wisconsin for small, family funeral for my uncle. We were told it would not be made public.  They would provide seating outdoors and play the sound through speakers for those who didn't want to come inside.  Masks would be worn.  I imagined my grandma, and my uncle's wife and kids inside, and the rest of us outdoors.

When we pulled in the parking lot was full. The tiny church building was packed to the gills with nearly 150 unmasked people. My sisters' families and my own sat outside in our masks.  My aunt and grandma were swarmed and hugged by nearly everyone there. We could hear them all singing side by side, inside, while we joined from the parking lot.

Then the entire crowd flooded out and made its way up to the cemetery, where they lingered closely around my uncle's family.  I gave a long distance wave to my aunt, but didn't get any nearer. Then we got back in the car and drove 2 1/2 hours home.

I wanted so badly to grieve my uncle along with my family. I feel like I didn't get that chance.  Instead of the pastor upholding safe boundaries for the rest of us, each person had to decide what they would do for themselves.  And in rural Wisconsin, other than drive-through workers following their corporate policy and wearing masks, everyone from that town had already decided they'd just do life as usual as though there were no pandemic.  That meant we looked like were making some kind of political statement in our masks, sitting in the parking lot like we were boycotting the funeral.  It meant we felt rude, unkind, and uncaring for not hugging.

Today Maisy and I stopped at a beach on a lake with giant CLOSED signs. We stepped our feet in the water up to the ankle and watched people swimming all around us.  "Why are we the only ones who have to follow the rules?" she asked. Then we got back in the car and drove home.

We are in a hard phase of this virus. While nothing has changed about the virus, except that there are more hospital beds available, things are also opening back up. We each have to make our way through, and assess what risks we are willing to take.

How do we let up the strict lockdown we've been under and start easing back into society, juggling all the variables every single choice carries?
Do I get my hair cut, finally?  
Do I wait in the waiting room while they're changing my car's oil?

Everywhere we go, some people have different boundaries and are making different choices than we are.  And everywhere we go, we are all judging each other for our boundaries and choices.

This, of course, accomplishes nothing. But we are wired to know how to respond to our environment by trying to match our behaviors to others of our species. So even while we are trying to make good decisions against a dangerous virus, we are still trying to gauge how we should act by the actions of those around us.

But all of a sudden it is a societal free-for-all.  Each family and person is making hard choices every moment, having to consider each decision, resisting our innate instincts to match behaviors.

So. Here's another gift of this time. If you were ever good at shaping what other people think of you, that option is off the table. No matter what you do, someone will disagree with that action.  So, instead, how can you act with integrity? How can you choose on purpose what to do and not do, consistent with your values?
This time could be a great untraining - our unthought actions and behaviors are pulled from the deep into the light of our thinking and reflection.  We are aware of each other, aware of ourselves, conscious about consequences, careful about choices. I'm curious how this will shape us in the long term.  We're being tilled up and turned over.  This is the kind of soil God plants seeds in.

But also, this way of living is utterly exhausting. It is going to get more exhausting as more things re-open and more behaviors become options, and we are faced with more choices.  

So - grace. Grace for ourselves. Grace for one another.  
Most of the time, most people are doing the best they can with what they have.
Sometimes what we have is no fight left in us.  
Always, no matter what, we belong to God.

And always we belong to each other.  

I made a choice not to hug my grieving grandmother. I did this because I belong to her and she to me. It was a sacrifice I could make - the one thing in my power to protect her however I could from the virus. My not hugging her was to express my love.  Even if others didn't understand or agree with my choice. 
At the same time, others chose to hug her for the very same reasons - because they love her and wanted to express that belonging and love.  Even if I didn't understand or agree with their choice.

This time is hard to live in.
This is a hard time.
We are tired.
We are loved.
Amen.

(PS - Here is my commitment to you as your pastor: Your session and I will not put you in a situation like I faced at that funeral. Because we believe we belong to each other, we take seriously our responsibility for setting and upholding boundaries that guard the most vulnerable among us. To the best of our ability, we will continue to make choices that support the health and well-being of all).

---

CONNECTING RITUAL:

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

God, for the ways I have forgotten my belonging to you this day, forgive me.
For the ways I've tried to justify myself,
earn my place,
hide my brokenness,
avoid my vulnerability,
and ignore your voice,
forgive me.
Restore me to my true self
as your beloved child.

God, for the ways I have forgotten my belonging to others this day, forgive me.
For the ways I have judged others,
for things I said that I regret,
for things I did not say but should have,
for the ways I disregarded my own and others' humanity
by ignoring boundaries,
or acting as though I was not theirs to care about,
or they were not mine to care about,
forgive me.
Restore me to my true self
among your beloved children.

And for all the ways I lived into my belonging
to you and others this day,
thank you.
For the moments of connection,
of sacrifice,
of seeing and being seen,
for kindness,
and shared sorrow,
and laughter,
and release,
thank you.

Help me rest this night.
Give me rest.
Amen.

Imperfect Together

Daily Devotion - June 4

I will send a brief message each day (except Mondays)

while we are pausing gathering in person.

- Kara

This morning I read this article: “Paternalistic Racism of Nice White People.”  

  

I recognized myself, both because I had this messaging in my own upbringing, and also because I contributed to groceries that day at Sanford Middle School.

Here’s the gift of this time. Discomfort. Confession. Recognition of the sin (another word for division from God and each other) that has a hold on us, sin we join in without realizing it.  

Also, I do not regret sharing groceries.  The call came from the community and it was something I could respond to.  

A risk of this time is that we try so hard not to do it wrong that it could paralyze us.  We live in a time when we tell each other what to do, what to think, how to act, what to say, and then we are terrified we’ll do, think, act, say the wrong thing and get called out. 

When I get caught up in this, it helps me to return to some things I know are true: 

• God made us to be with and for each other. God intentionally created us diverse and different from each other, each single person unique. We ALL belong to God and we ALL belong to each other.  
• Sin / the Way of Fear / systemic evil tells us we have to earn our way, some lives are of higher value than others, we are in competition, there is only so much  - voice, justice, respect, resources – to go around, so we have to decide who gets it and who goes without.  These are lies.  
• We believe the lies most of the time. Even when we are trying to do right in the world, even right in the middle of it, we are often believing the lies.  The response is not to judge ourselves for not getting it right – that’s part of the lies too.
• We will never get it right.  It’s not about getting it right. It’s about being a human being alongside other human beings. 
• Being human is vulnerable. It feels uncomfortable a lot of the time because it feels risky, scary, weak.  
• The greatest strength we have is when we are in our most honest place of weakness, when we can receive each other and allow ourselves to be received. We can actually live our shared belonging.

Sin would have us do the wrong things, or the right things for the wrong reasons, or nothing at all because we are so afraid of doing the wrong thing.  It’s a game with no winning.  But the game is false.

As the above article so beautifully said, 

Part of the trouble with the Paternalistic Racism of Nice White People that has been a part of my own experience, is that white people assumed we were to serve as saviors. A quick mistake all of us often make when attempting to change this is to reverse it. And quickly we look to the first black person we're in relationship with to be our savior, to imagine that now instead, it's their turn to save us. 

Part of being a Christian, for those of us who are, is knowing that there's only one Savior, and that's Jesus. We shouldn't make gods of others just as we can't make gods of ourselves. So in working to build relationships, to create a more equitable community, we have to remember our shared humanity first. White people don't need to save black people, and black people also don't need to save white people. Jesus promises to save us all.

And, 

My vessel is imperfect. I was born in a culture that taught me to sin, and into a family that also taught me to love. In this imperfect jar I can lament my imperfections or I can whitewash them and cover them up with good deeds and nice words and passive aggressive utterances of racism. 

Or I can stand, blemished and unblemished, at the foot of the Cross. I can try to tell the truth. I can try to work harder for justice. I can hand off the microphone. I can build authentic, honest relationships with white people and black people alike. I can confess my sin, I can be forgiven, and I can forgive others.

I’d add to this – and so we can forgive ourselves.   

There is never a pure motive or a completely perfect approach, and we are actually not called to that. We are called to know ourselves to be sinners in need of saving. (Remember what salvation is? Wholeness.). And we are called to see each other as children of God.  

We are in need of being restored to our wholeness – to live consistent to our belonging to God and each other. We can’t do this for ourselves, and we can’t do it for each other. But we can come alongside one another in our brokenness and confess, and listen, and offer care to, and be willing to receive care from, each other. When we do that, God restores us to wholeness.

As for the Sanford food drive that requested 85 bags of food for their impacted families, the school called in The Sheridan Story, who took over distribution of the food to the whole impacted community.  Because while Paternalistic Racism certainly plays a huge role in our lives as Minnesotans, and is undoubtedly woven into what’s happening when white Minnesotans from outside the most impacted areas respond, the other thing that is happening is whole communities coming together, across perceived boundaries of culture, race, city lines, income, and religion, and trying to support each other, drawing on the strong networks and organizations who have already been bringing us together and know how to do this to help guide us.

Here’s the update from The Sheridan Story:

We have distributed most of the food from the food drive at Sanford Middle School on Sunday out in the community.

This was one of the biggest food drives we've ever seen… and perhaps one of the largest-ever in Minnesota. In less than a day, we estimate that over 2,000 families were served. Our amazing community came together, some waiting in line approximately 14 blocks long, to provide a total of about 18 semi-trucks of food. Of these:

•  3 semi-trucks of food were distributed to families the day of the food drive
•  4 semi-trucks of perishable food went to our friends at Loaves and Fishes and Minneapolis Public Schools Culinary and Wellness Services
•  4 semi-trucks of non-perishable food went to us
•  7 semi-trucks have been re-routed to additional collection and distribution points throughout Minneapolis

God uses whatever we give.   

Even while seeking to make us more real – to remove hypocrisy and sin from within our hearts – God calls us to join in our belonging to each other right now. 

To believe we have to earn the right to live in this belonging by making sure we’ve rooted out all sin, or racism, or brokenness from ourselves first is also sin / the way of fear / the lie.  

(By the way, this is the gift of seeking to be “anti-racist” as opposed to the false notion of  “not racist.”  Racism has infected us all; it’s in our un-thought thoughts, and we all operate inside its strictures.  But we can acknowledge its hold on us and also act deliberately against it.  This is a great resource to learn more about anti-racism).  

We can help each other. We can seek to see and hear each other. We belong to each other. Each of us can participate in whatever ways we can, in what God is doing in our communities, city, state, nation and world, to bring wholeness and healing into all our brokenness and division.  We can be imperfect together.

One more message from The Sheridan Story:

POP-UP FOOD DRIVE

As we continue to distribute this extraordinary show of support for those most in need, we hear both the need for food and the desire to help. The calls are loud and clear!

We are collecting donations of food and other essential items at our warehouse.

• Where: 2723 Patton Road, Roseville
• When: Monday - Friday from 10 am - 2pm
• What: Non-perishable canned food, rice, pasta, diapers, wipes, feminine hygiene items, and baby formula
• How: Follow the food donation signs and you'll be able to drop off items in tents we've set up in our parking lot. 

All of the donations we receive will be re-distributed to our community partners in neighborhoods across the metro as quickly as possible!

THANK YOU for showing the positive power of what our community can do together!

---

CONNECTING RITUAL:

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

I seek your presence, O God,
not  because I have managed to see clearly
or been true in all things this day,
not because I have succeeded in loving
or in reverencing those around me,
but because I want to see with clarity,
because I long to be true
and desire to love as I have been loved.
Renew my inner sight,
make fresh my longings to be true
and grant me the grace of loving this night
that I may end the day as I had hoped to live it,
that I may end this day restored to my deepest yearnings,
that I may end this day as I intend to live tomorrow,
and I intend to live tomorrow.
Amen.

- J Philip Newell, Sounds of the Eternal