A Tiny Bit on Postmodern Christians

I write this evening a headier sort of post. One of the things I am doing on my break is reading books which I have accumulated over the last few months that I have shelved neatly on the ledge of my bedside table. I am reading, right now, What Would Jesus Deconstruct? by John Caputo. More on the title, and the origins of the "what would Jesus do " do perhaps later in the week. "Deconstruction" is one of the words used in describing postmodern philosophy. All that we thought we could count on in the world is questioned and contradicted. The Enlightenment, with its scientific formulas, and reverence for logic and the mechanical, is passing away, those philosophers will tell us. We are all creatures of our own social context--what is true for us clearly is not always true everywhere. No one religion has the right to claim authority. This is what many postmodernists believe.

But there is a group of us, who strongly believe in the truth of Christ, who would still claim to be postmodern thinkers. In this book, Caputo makes the case that Jesus himself was a deconstructionist---with his coming and his life and words, he "deconstructed" religious practices and what constituted religious authority at his time. Since I have just started this book, I am not exactly sure where we are being taken with this.

When I first came into contact with the tenets of postmodern philosophy, through the eyes of Christian writers who did not reject all of it out of hand, but were trying to thoughtfully see how this phase of our social environment we call postmodernism calls the church to a different kind of life, I was fascinated. And captivated. So much I have read continues to call to a deep place within myself that speaks to me when I think about our denomination's structure and history. I would make a case that John Wesley was a deconstructionist. In fact I have.

Our faith expressions today, especially of those of my kids' generation, are much more open to mystery (and being comfortable with that); much more experiential; and much less based on what dogma is taught in what church, and much more interested in whether there is authenticity of relationship and a place for expression through the arts.

Somehow, I still feel as if I am supposed to be a voice for this---to be a person with one foot in one age and one foot in another---but not in a confused way, but in a bridge way. Okay, the metaphor got mixed up here, but I hope you postmoderns, especially, know what I mean...

Blessings

I hope you have had a wonderful Christmas Eve. It is snowing here on the Plaza, and I managed to get to one Christmas Eve service when I had hoped earlier in the week to go to at least three.

All the presents are wrapped, the breakfast casserole is being refrigerated overnight, we managed to get the tree to stand up using an upside down clay flower pot, and I am glad that I am a believer in the baby born tonight. Blessings on you and yours. I hope you find some peace in the midst of all the busyness of tomorrow.

I am taking two and a half weeks off for vacation--I will be off until Jan 12. I will read, organize and ...I have a third thing I am doing but can't remember it...so to sleep I go.

Just a painting

The time is so close when words are inadequate and will not be necessary to describe the Incarnation of God--the baby will be here very very soon. I give you just a picture tonight and I think that is enough.

A Great Night

I don't know if a nightingale sang in Barkley Square tonight, but my Christmas tree DID fall on Amanda Ross.

I invited the student pastors in the Heartland North District to my house for chili tonight, just to gab and let me know anything I should know. Five women showed up and the picture of them is above. On the couch from left to right: Martha Truax (Dearborn) and Karen Tutak (Malta Bend/Grand pass) Standing: Judy Frost (Turney); Me (DS); Emily Carroll (Orrick); Amanda Ross (Polo)

I thought we would have a good time, but we had a GREAT time. We were loud; there was no lag in conversation (instead several times they were all talking at the same time); laughter was abundant and even some tears. And I finally threw out (well, I told them it was my bedtime--sorry Emily and Amanda) at about 10:45. I heard about classes and professors and worship and family and friends and what Christmas will be like, and I heard a lot of love for these churches. And I heard such joy and excitement from Amanda as she contemplates her first full time appointment in July. She said, "I can't wait!" So watch out Missouri, here she comes.

My tree fell on Amanda during one of those very loud talking and laughing moments. We tried to figure out if it was a sign from God, but were having trouble figuring out what the sign meant. Probably it meant that I need to figure out some way to secure the bottom of the tree better.

Hark!

This has been a good day, but I found it difficult to come up with any metaphors or stories to share here from this day's experience. Or if I could think of something, the metaphor would have to be stretched to such an extent that it would not make much sense but silliness to me and you. So, instead, here is another Annie Moses Band Christmas song, this one called "Hark".

A Ditty for 4 Advent

The musical setting for this would be the tune for the verse of "Bring Back My Bonnie to Me":

I'm tired of big Christmas sweaters
With angels and snowmen and such
Come back blue and brown and paisley
The snowmen can turn all to slush!

I'm sick of the slick advertisements
The "Star"'s become heavy as lead
These fliers keep trying to sell us

"Green" presents amidst five page spreads.

But, "ah" there's still beautiful music
That can make this cynic weep tears.
The strains of old Christmas carols
And new ones our children will hear.

Sweet Mary's hard labor grows closer.
The donkey nears Joseph's home town.
Where shepherds will sing with the angels.
Our hope, our salvation is found!

On Kisses

This weekend, I splurged on some artificial mistletoe at Dollar Tree and hung it above the doorway leading from the foyer and the living room. It has been a few years since I have hung mistletoe---I used to have a mistletoe ball, which disappeared during an open house at the old parsonage at Broadway. It embarrassed Cana so she took it. And I never saw it again.

I will tell one story: in my first appointment, the first Christmas (this was about five years before I got married), a friend from college showed up the first Sunday afterward Christmas as a surprise. We had been good friends, but not romantic friends. He came to the parsonage as we were heading out for lunch. We were standing between the living room and kitchen as I showed him around, and lo and behold, he kissed me. It was unexpected but quite pleasant. I had forgotten about the mistletoe I had placed above the doorway, but I am very glad Wally hadn't. It was the beginning of a short but lovely romance.

Enough True Confessions.

Kissing is a lovely thing if the kisser and the kissee are both willing. It is a beautiful thing to kiss the cheek of one of my children---Cana's cheek is so soft, Caleb's so whiskery. Kisses can say, I love you; or I want to comfort you; I am so glad to see you. To give or receive a kiss is an intimate thing in our culture...here you reserve it for special people, whereas in many cultures you can around kissing practically anyone on the cheek and there is no stigma even men kissing men on the cheek . It's what is expected.

The psalm appointed for this week in the guide I use for my devotions is Psalm 85. The psalmist tells us that the day of the Lord is near. It is a hopeful song and a song of thanksgiving. the last four verses read:

Steadfast love and righteousness will meet;

righteousness and peace will kiss each other.

Faithfulness will spring up from the ground,

and righteousness will look down from the sky.

The Lord will give what is good,

and our land will yield its increase,

Righteousness will go before him,

and will make a path for his steps.

Righteousness and peace will kiss each other. That which makes for a right relationship with God and that which makes for shalom will be in an intimate relationship. They will kiss. No more division between personal piety and social witness. Our relationship with God and our ways of following Jesus will merge with the needs of the world into a beautiful whole somehow.

Christmas is really God kissing the world. He loved it and each of us enough that through the Holy Spirit, a young woman bore Hope. We do not know who Jesus kissed--his mother, probably, his earthly father, the people he greeted each day in his life, since in that culture kissing was the normal mode of greeting. He most probably kissed the children as they were brought to him---we don't really know. We do know that he was betrayed with a kiss--which shows how terribly wrong it all was, that a sign of love was turned into the prelude of an execution.

We may be doing our share of kissing this week--our great aunt who smells like Lily of the Valley eau du toilette; if we are bold, w2e may attempt to kiss our teenage nephew wearing all black this Christmas with a nose stud and a frown; our mother with tired eyes but an genuine smile; our father who slips us a fifty dollar bill even though we're 49. But we will certainly be getting more than our share of kisses this week too--God Kisses, if you will allow me that, full of mystery and beauty and most of all Perfect Love that will not let us be or let us go. I hope you get a kiss or two under the mistletoe, too!

Things and the One thing

A week from today is Christmas.

Most all my gifts are bought.

My house is mostly clean because I had a dinner party here tonight. The student pastors will be coming next Tuesday night.

I have been to the Plaza Lighting, four Christmas parties.

Cana and I will attend The Nutcracker tomorrow night at the Music Hall.

I will probably attend at least two Christmas Eve Services.

My family is gathering money to give to the Baby Grace programs across the district.

I will have time tomorrow to clean my bedroom, where much accumulated today (actually we hid today) because of the dinner party. A toaster oven in is my closet and the vacuum cleaner is next to my bed.

I have blogged every day of Advent so far.

And has there been joy in all these things? Well, yes, there has been. Somehow this Advent, I have had, with a few major exceptions, good days of glad joy. I am afraid I have not always stopped long enough, though, to intentionally pray thanksgiving to God for all of the gifts I have received.

Yesterday, I received some potentially great news about my finances. I called a friend of mine to tell the good news, and that friend said (actually I don't remember exactly what he said) but he did say something about this being a gift from God. Of course, this is all sort of tentative. But even the possibility of it is a gift from God. That somehow really wasn't my first thought. My first thought was unbelief, then next to tell myself not to get my hopes up. My friend immediately thought as I should have thought.

I would just invite you to think with me about how you have prepared till now for the Good News of Christmas. We church-types get mighty busy about those many things, while, in all of the stuff going on, it is easy to lose sight of the Giver of it all. Thank God that our remembering is not what makes Christmas happen--it has already happened and God will not take that gift away. I want to take some more time these few days before the 25th to simply and quietly get my priorities right. The things I have done and will do are for the most part wonderful and filled with opportunity to watch for the coming of Christ. I just want to keep my eyes not on how well someone sung, or what pretty the able decorations were at that last party, or or even what a neat sermon that was last week. I want to spend time with the One who makes all of this possible. And to walk in his light.

It is late. I have been thinking on many things I might blog about: what joy feels like; the growth of the Baby Grace program at Turney church; how wonderful Barbara Webb is; the Cards pressing for Matt Holliday; the vacation time I am taking from Dec 23 to Jan 12; a lovely phone conversation with Hal Knight tonight.

Instead, I tell you something. I LOVE to entertain, at least I used to. I haven't entertained much in the last couple of years. When I was in the local church, I would almost always throw a big open house for the church during Advent; I would have the staff over for Christmas brunch sometime in December; I would have the clergywomen of my district over for a clergywomen's Christmas party, something that happened in the Missouri East conference for all the conference clergywomen for years. But this time of the district year tends to be an extra tiring time for me. Last year I planned to social gathering at my house; had to cancel one because I just couldn't get it done, and the other one was canceled because of the weather.

This year, it's a dinner party tomorrow night with seven guests. I am really enjoying getting ready for it which is mostly what I have been doing this evening. I seem to be doing things differently in entertaining...I don't worry quite as much about whether I get every spot off the floor or all the flour from behind the canisters....although I do try to hit all the visible areas! I really like to cook. And I really like to decorate. And I really like the people who are coming over tomorrow night. In the end, it is always about the relationships. So even though I have quite a bit to do tomorrow, I am going to sing along with my Ipod "Christmas Sacred" playlist. I am going to sit down when I get tired. I am going to let Caleb and Rose do the serving as we have agreed (and hope they stay in their happy places) and clean up as we agreed (ditto). And I will try to remember to pull this page up first thing in the morning, read it then, and then several times during the day, to remind me what I said I was going to do. I really want not to be so busy about many things that I forget the essential and sit at the feet of our Lord's good gift of friends.

Guess that's really all I have to say.

Making it work...or not

You may or may not know what this doo hickee is that is attached to my IPod which was, at the moment of this picture, playing a selection from my Norman Riddle Christmas album. It is an FM Transmitter that supposedly allows you to turn its receiver to a station from 88.1 to 88.9 on your car stereo and you can plug in your IPod or CD player or whatever and play it through your car stereo system.

I bought this doo hickee about four years ago, after trying two other doo hickees that were supposed to do the same thing but did not. But hope springs eternal and so I tried this one. It didn't work either. So I resigned myself to listening to my IPod in my car with headphones sort of half way on my ears and half way off so I can hear what was going on around me.. Not a good way either to listen to an IPod or to hear what is going on around you. My 2005 Prius does not have a USB port like many newer cars do so that I can play the IPod that way. So I either have been doing the earphones-half-way-on thing or listening to CDs which limits me to musical selection. I will not bore you with how many songs I have on ITunes but on my Christmas Sacred playlist, there are 125 songs. (That does not include my Advent Sacred playlist or my Christmas Secular playlist)

I really wanted to listen to these songs through my car stereo which my not compete with Kendall Waller's, but was top of the line when I bought it. So, being a person in whom hope tends to spring eternal most of the time, I tried the doo hickee again this afternoon. For once I had the IPod with me when I also had not lost the doo hickee, and I had batteries in the doo hickee and I located one of those stations on the radio that did not have a much of a signal, and guess what!? IT WORKED...there was some static, and it plays at its best when I hold on to its teeny little antennae but it works!!! Better at night I found out this evening.

Wow, though, you have to get everything lined up just right.. and it's like the thingy is working only by a hair, you know what I mean? Tonight the IPod suddenly went off because the back of the thingy (I've gone to slang shorthand) fell off and a battery fell out...and a couple times, when I was trying to get the thingy attached to the IPod in the right place in the car to pick up the signal best, I turned it off and couldn't figure out what it wasn't working any more. And woe to me if I somehow hit the button accidentally on the steering wheel where you can change radio stations...all is again lost.

My life from time to time feels to me like it feels to get this thingy to work---having batteries that work and aren't turned upside down (you can read that as taking care of myself physically or use your own metaphored meaning), intentionally working at getting my spirit aligned with God's so the music can play; making sure that I don't get distracted and somehow in my wandering of mind accidentally wander onto another wavelength than where I cannot sing the Lord's song.

But, to be honest, as much as I thought this metaphor might work some, it doesn't as far as our relationship with God goes. Because getting the FM transmitter to work right is all on me. I am the one who bought the darn thing; I am the one who had to buy the batteries and make sure they were AAA not AA; I am the one whose gotta work the tuning of the radio and the transmitter; I am the one who makes sure my IPod is powered up; I am the one who should have made sure that the back was securely on so the batteries did not fall out.

But praise Jesus, friends, it is NOT all about me or you. We don't have to "make it work" with God and his son our Savior; yes, it is good to put ourselves in a receptive place spiritually, but it is through God's mighty love and his desire to cradle us and to remind us and to pick us up and carry us and to prod us out of our spiritual complacency. These things our God knew that we could not do for ourselves and so God gave us Christmas, the nativity of our Lord, doing for us that which we cannot do, loving us into salvation, and never letting us get so far away from him that he does not beckon us home. That to me is VERY good news!

Some Children See Him ...

Tonight I was blessed to attend The Kansas City Chorale concert at Asbury UMC in Prairie Village Kansas. I knew that this is considered the finest ensemble in Kansas City. Now I know it. It was an "all Christmas" concert, Brittan's Ceremony of Carols as well as some new settings of traditional texts. One Albert Dart carol was sung near the beginning of the concert, the one entitled Some Children See Him. It was written in 1951 by Mr. Dart and a friend of his who wrote many of his texts. I wonder today if there would be some who take his description of ethnic diversity as offensive---I do not know. But the message in it rings so very true for me, and the tune is so lovely, the first verse or more tonight sung by Bryan Taylor, Director of Music at Liberty UMC and member of this group (and thanks, Bryan for the free ticket!)

I couldn't find Bryan singing this on a youtube video but I did fine the Annie Moses band singing and playing it, and it is a lovely substitute:

A short meditation

Yolanda, the Heartland South ds, gave me this magnet for my birthday:

I like it, I like it a lot.

The Human Face at the Manger

This morning I attended worship at Faith UMC in Grain Valley. It was a lovely service; Dave Hackett preached on the difference between happiness, which is a good thing, and joy an eternal thing. I had a moment of joy when my eye wondered from Dave to the altar, beautifully arrayed in poinsettias. You can see in the picture how pretty the altar area is. When I glanced at it during the sermon, what I saw was slightly different than what you see here. There was something else Do you see that spot above the poinsettia that is behind Joseph's head? In that blank spot there, when I looked, there was a human, real face. The face of Riley, the drummer who was sitting on the floor by his drum set, which you can not see in the picture. (I talked to Riley after the service to ask if I might talk about this experience in the blog this evening by the way :-} Riley is a high schooler who has been playing drums at the church about a year. I have heard him play several times before and his playing enhances both the praise songs and the hymns.

However, it was a bit startling to see his face there, overlooking the manger scene. It made me so aware again that even though these are white statues, the persons depicted here were human beings, not icons or otherworldly creatures who knelt there at the baby. It always amazes me that those who manufacture these nativity scenes always have Mary up and kneeling and folding her hands and looking so sweet, when she just delivered a baby maybe a few hours, if that, before this scene. I'll let you in on a little secret---she probably wasn't kneeling like this---or if she tried it, she probably groaned for a minute and laid back down. Riley's face there brought to light in a most wondrous way, that even though our manger scenes are so beautiful, as this one is, it was really human beings that were there---Mary, perhaps not much younger than Riley, and Joseph, who we know had some questions about all this, but who gave in to the power of the Holy Spirit to lead him to Bethlehem and to celebration with Mary at the birth of the Emmanuel.

This week I want to follow the trip of Mary and Joseph from Nazareth to Bethlehem. And to think some here about what the trip might have been like, and to perhaps, if I can be so bold, to really put a human face on these two who loved each other, and who were entrusted with this baby boy who became the Savior of the world. I hope to be made more human myself for the journey.

The Half Finished Box

I have been thinking about a certain Christmas tradition the Coxes had while I was growing up. My mother Lucille was quite a seamstress--as I have said before I literally did not have a store-bought piece of clothing until I was late in high school. She made all of my clothes...and I looked pretty hip.

One of our Christmas traditions which lasted up until just a few years before her death, was the "almost finished box." You would unwrap a present from my parents and inside would be mostly made dress with pins still in it, a spool of thread and assorted other sewing paraphernalia that were needed to finish up the dress and there would always be a note: "I ran out of time. I will finish it next week." When I was a child, I thought all mothers gave their children such things. But I found out later that this wasn't so (or sew). Mother would stay up very late the last few nights before Christmas, her knee up against the feed, her mouth full of pins, running that Singer or Pfaff or Bernina just as fast as she could, and yet, there simply were not enough hours to get the last thing done. Woe be to her if one of those last days before Christmas fell on a Sunday, because the sewing machine was NEVER run on Sundays. And she was so very tired by the time Christmas Day rolled around and tried to hide it. If you were the one who received the box with the with the partially made item in it, you didn't say anything except "Oh. Mother this is beautiful!" Like most of us, when Lucille got tired, she also got a bit touchy.

I think this reminds me of someone else I know. I often do give a "lick and a promise" but unlike my mother, I DON'T get it finished the next week, which she always would do. Advent is so very crazy for so many of us---I know I have had things I have wanted to do this Christmas that I am not going to get done---those soft little scarves I was going to make for all the women in the office; that Messiah Sing-In that I had intended to go to this afternoon; carolling with one of the churches---those things are not going to get done (well, okay, maybe the carolling will happen if I am intentional about it).

I don't think that "preparing our hearts for Christmas" really means having too many expectations of ourselves, and then feeling guilty because we do not live up to them. Maybe for those of us who try to cram it all in, preparing means giving ourselves some slack. The line between "giving yourself some slack" and "giving into your own laziness" is a hard one for me to discern. I have decided to err on the side of "slack" a bit more, in terms of resting when I could be organizing my house (I AM hoping to do that after Christmas though, just so you don't think I am lazy :-} and crocheting when I could be cleaning.

Does this resonate with you? I know a lot of folks that seem to have this same struggle. I wish you peace, I wish you rest, I wish you joy.

I Came Home By A Slower Way

I've looked back over the years I have been blogging, and I always blog on our district's Christmas party. Because of Barbara Webb's preparatory work and the beautiful setting of Richmond UMC and the dinner they prepared, through the good preaching of Kendall Waller, and the young sweet voices of the Richmond High School Chamber Choir, we had a joyful evening of fellowship and worship.

However, that all does not erase my memory of the DRIVE TO RICHMOND NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN which happened tonight as I went over for the party. For some odd reason, I decided to take I-70 as far as I could before I turned north to Richmond. A brain freeze as the car and I stood still two different times in traffic due to an accident, made me forget that YOU HAVE TO CROSS THE RIVER north of I-70 before you can get to RICHMOND WHICH IS NORTH OF THE RIVER. Additionally I had forgotten to remember that there are only a few places to CROSS THE RIVER. You can cross at one of the Kansas City downtown bridges, or at 291 or at....Lexington. Since I had passed 291 when I realized this, I crossed at Lexington and got later by the minute. The later I got, the faster I went. Until someone else, namely A STATE TROOPER between Lexington and Richmond noticed how fast I was going and as I passed him (now under the speed limit because I noticed him too, but too late) and as I got in front of him, he put on his pretty RED AND BLUE LIGHTS and I pulled over quick. I decided to tell him THE TRUTH including that I thought I had my speed down by the time he saw me. He said, yes but I was going 78 when I pulled out in back of him. And in the end, he did not give me a ticket and had me on my way in good, sort of, time.

What did Susan learn from this?

1) Start earlier. Sometimes it is good to go the way that is tried and true.

2) Plan before you get on the road. Think about the traffic. Know where to turn, even if you have been there at least a dozen times before.

3) Tell the truth.

4) The people I thought I was disappointing (the pastors and the Richmond cooks) were not disappointed in me and it was really my own anxiety that was causing my own anxiety.

Lessons for Advent:

1)Follow the way this year that is tried and true--read the scripture accounts; realize this time of the year is a journey--like Mary and Joseph traveling to Bethlehem, you need to know where you are going. There will be some inevitable bumps along the way

2) Tell God the truth in your daily prayer times--you probably are not carrying through on all of the Advent disciplines you hoped to keep. You may have already overspent and overeaten. You may be remembering the family argument from Thanksgiving and are dreading a similar scene on Christmas day. Yours may not be a Norman Rockwell family. Tell God the truth. Let him guide you through it. Accept his gifts.

3) Give yourself a break from pushing yourself too hard. Life is not about stressing yourself out. You are probably the one with the highest expectations of yourself, which, quite frankly for many of us pastor types, puts us on the defensive when we mess up, leads to gloominess about our own self worth, and generally does not make us very nice people to be around. Lighten up.

Amen

A Tiny Conversation

First, thanks to all who wished me a happy birthday! I loved hearing from so many Facebook friends! It has been a good day.

This morning I was in a department store, about to check out, when I noticed that one of the saleswomen had a name tag on that read "Wesli". This was not a young woman, probably 40 or older. It took me a moment to figure out it would be pronounced "Wesley." Ah! I said to myself. someone to engage with!!! (Just to let you know, I really don't need much of a reason to engage with strangers.)

I said to her, "I noticed your name--is it pronounced Wesley?"

Wesli said, "Yes. It is."

Me: "Huh...that reminds me of, like, John Wesley."

She: "That's right. There's been four generations of Wesleys in the family. It was my dad's idea to spell it with an "i".

Me: "Are you United Methodist?"

She: "Oh yes. I go to First Light in Gardner"(a fairly new new church start). "And sometimes to Nevada" (long "a" in the middle..must to Missouri? Not sure is there is one in Kansas)

Me: "Well, I'm a United Methodist clergywoman, the d.s. up here, actually."

She: "Oh really??? My mother's been the district lay leader for a long time" (I think her mom is in Gardner)... and then she paused, "Do you know you are the first one in seven years to get it about my name?"

Me: "Well, how about that. I'm glad I got it!"

And that was the end. Nothing really very profound about this encounter. You may have had a much deeper experience today. But it was a bit of light that shown for a moment for me, to have a sister in the faith name Wesli who knew what her name was and we both left smiling after our tiny chat.

So, no long involved ponderings on being 55; no really huge revelations today or new visions for my life to share, but just a tiny conversation. I liked it that way this year.

Thanks to our Student Appointments!

This here post is a shout out to the churches in my district who are what we call "student appointments." Not all of them are served right now by students, simply because I did not find enough students to supply them this year, not because they didn't want students. There are about a dozen in my district. I often hear people talk about the small rural churches finding it hard to accept anything new and not able to change. However, my experience is often the opposite in what I find in the student appointment churches. These churches are usually served by Saint Paul School of Theology students, some never having preached a sermon in a congregation before much less presiding over a funeral or making a hospital call. And often these students come with new ideas for worship that are untried, and the churches most of the time are willing to give it a try.

An example of this is the Turney UMC who was receiving a new student pastor a couple of years ago. She very much wanted to celebrate Holy Communion every week. I was not sure how that would go over with the congregation. The PPR said at the first meeting with her "That would be great! How do you want it served? We can do it all sorts of ways!" meaning, I found out after I asked, that they could receive by little cups or wafers or pieces of bread or intinction. I was amazed because I know of large churches where the pastors would have real difficulty introducing a new mode of communion.

This same church now is saying goodbye to this same pastor, Judy Frost. Judy is wanting to finish school by May, and will need to immerse herself in study in order to do that. I was to put in a pastor (i.e. introduce the new pastor to the PPR committee) tonight. However that new pastor had had a change of heart about taking the appointment for understandable reasons, as I heard this morning. I, quite frankly, was shaken a bit because I thought this was pretty well set. I was very sad for the congregation because the folks were expectant. I was a bit worried about how the PPR chair, Betty, would take the news. When I called and told her what had happened, she really took it in stride...yes, they would be disappointed, but they could get by as long as needed. I told her I already had a couple of ideas about others who might serve there until annual conference. She said she was confident we would find the right person. In short, I felt affirmed, understood, and knew that I would be prayed for in the process.

I love these student charges! I love my student pastors from Saint Paul! And I love that the churches see their roles as a teaching one for these fresh pastors. I am uniquely blessed to have so many in the Heartland North district. I remember what one man said at Napolean UMC when I brought their new pastor for the first time this June, "we've had some awesome ones, we've had some dooseys and we've had some duds" quickly followed by: "we're here to make you a pastor and we are here to help you."

Thank you Napolean, Wellington, Turney, Corder and Alma, Malta Bend and Grand Pass, Dearborn, Camden, Polo and Cowgill, Hardin and Henrietta, Oakland, Orrick and Holt and Buckner until this year, Millville and New Hope until last year and all the others that sometimes have part time local pastors and sometimes either retired pastors and part time local pastors. We couldn't do it without you!

On Prayer

I prayed out loud nine times today---at breakfast, and before and after each of the four evaluations I had. One thing I noticed right after coming on the cabinet was how much I was praying aloud and how many different people I pray with every day. That first year, and at times for the next three years, I found myself too often praying rote prayers, or at least using rote phrases in prayers I prayed.

But especially of the last several months, as I have been working on deepening my own life of prayer, I have been trying my best to be attentive to the person for whom I will pray, and really focusing on the particularities of that person and their situation. And I find that words sometimes come from my mouth or images come into my head that I did not intentionally think about---it just comes. This does not happen all of the time, because I can't seem to focus all of the time, but when it does, I can feel the spirit working. Focusing on the need right in front of you is the key. I recently had an interesting conversation with a woman sitting next to me on a plane. We talked with each other about our lives a bit and somehow we managed to get on the subject of prayer, and this same issue of focus. She is a massage therapist who works with disabled children through a program in the state of Texas. She said that each time before she enters the home of one of these clients, she sits a bit in her car and imagines an altar in her mind. She imagines that she is kneeling before that altar and she has brought, either led or carried, that child with her there. And that she offers up her work in the home in front of which she is sitting, to be a fragrant offering of love for God.

Last week I received the best compliment that I have ever been given--I was called a prayer warrior. I used to shrink from that phrase, not wanting to think that something as tender and caring as intercessory prayer should be offered by a "warrior." I tell you this not to brag, but to say I think she had me confused with someone els who really IS a prayer warrior. That other person is someone who can point readily to those prayer requests she prayed that were answered according to her petition. That other person who knows always just the right words to say instead of bobbling through, and mid prayer saying, "God, I don't know what to say here." Or that prayer warrior who is courageous enough to offer prayer for someone, right then and there, who she feels led to pray for. Or who keeps to a schedule both day and night for reflection and prayer, and never misses and whose life is always a quiet reflection of her "intouchness" with God.

I know I am not a person who can always say how her prayer is answered, at least not for years maybe, or who always has the right words at the right time to say in prayer; I do not always stop and pray with someone even though I a sense that I should; and even though I am pretty faithful to daily prayer, there are times when I don't do it, and regret it later.

The prayer that I would offer for all of this tonight is this: Lord, help me to see as you see, not as mortals see, but to look on the heart. When I worry about what words to use, focus my attention away from me and on to the person before me, and especially on you. Continue to remind me that is not really in the pretty words I say that you take joy, It is in the earnestness of my heart. Amen

Mary Did You Know?

This morning as I was driving up to Wilderness Retreat Center for our district pastors' Advent Day Apart, I had on the radio station 102.1 which along with at least 98.1 plays Christmas music all day. The song that was on the radio as I passed over the Paseo Bridge was Mary Did You Know? The first time I heard this song was on Christmas Eve 2000 at the evening service at Broadway UMC in Kansas City. It was my first Christmas at Broadway, and Penny Ellwood and I were working on the service. She told me that she and Bill would be glad to sing this song. I said sure but did not tell her that I did not know the song. When they sang it at that service, I was swept away to another dimension of time and space, and realized I was hearing the most wonderful description of Christmas, and received the reminder of the man Jesus who was the Christ. I can never hear this song when I am not swept away to that place. So tonight, I just wanted you to have a bit of respite from the fray of the season, or perhaps for those who may be in a place of sadness, grief, or emptiness, a moment to transcend those difficult burdens and rest beside the weary road and listen:

Nehemiah

'Tis the evening of St. Nicholas saint's day whom I could REALLY blog on (I bet I know more than you do about this good man who lived in Myra in Turkey in the fourth century) and there were at least two things in the KC Star newspaper this morning that I could blog on tonight.

But I just wanted to do a gentle piece on a young man I met this evening. Nehemiah is his name and he is a bagger at Price Chopper on 103rd down south. Those who read this fairly regularly know that grocery store is where I go most of the time. This is about Nehemiah

I had gobs of groceries tonight, piled high on the cart, with stuff not only for the family, but snacks and items for communion for our district's Advent Day Apart for Pastors tomorrow. Although my hand is on the mend, I was not looking forward to loading all of these groceries in the back of the Prius. I really did not want to spend the money to tip the bagger to load them for me. That was going on in my mind. When I approached the check out lanes, all had people with carts two deep so I pulled up behind what looked to be the most promising line. But as I did, the security guard motioned me over to the next lane which was just opening. Ah, a blessing! As I pushed my cart over, and started putting my groceries on the belt, a bagger appeared. I know several of the baggers there, but this guy was new. I noticed his spikey, but not too much so, jet black, his great smile which was genuine, and then how polite he was at the 16 9r 17 years of age that I guessed him to be (being "m'aamed" is a rare thing, and now that I am nearly 55, I think I like it). Something that I always ask the bagger, since even at wonderful Price Chopper my experience with this is spotty, is to put the cold stuff together. Each time I do this I try to by easy about how I say it as to not offend the bagger by inferring he/she is stupid or something, so I said to this young man, as he began to bag, "Please put the cold stuff in bags together" his wonderful smile,not a sarcastic smile but a real one came on his face, and I quickly said "not that you wouldn't do it anyway" him still sweetly smiling and saying with no sarcasm, "Yes, maam." Then the clerk asked about my hand, and nearing the end of the her task with me, said "You want drive up, don't you?" and to be honest I did want drive up and out I went to get the car and bring it around to the pick up door. The same bagger came out to put the groceries in the car, and as he was putting the last two bags of groceries in the passenger side of the car, since we'd run out of room in the back, I started to give him a tip--and when he saw it in my hand he said, "oh, no maam, I don't need a tip", "oh," I said, "but I want to give you a tip" and by this time I really did, and again he refused. At this point, I asked him what his name was. "Nehemiah" maam." And I said, "that sounds like you might go to church somewhere." "Oh, yes maam," he said, And then he named his church without a blink, a church with the word "revival" in its name, and I did not get the other words. I said "I want you to have this tip. I'm a United Methodist clergywoman." I am not sure why I said that...maybe that I wanted him to know that I knew his kindness came not just from being kind, but from his faith? Or did I feel like I needed to justify why I wanted to tip him? I think somewhere when I said that his name sounded like he went to church, if he had said no, I would have asked him if he knew what the man was like in the Bible who originally had that name. Who knows?

He took the tip after I pushed him on it and I think he wished by a blessed week.

This was a little moment, probably all told I spoke to him less than 2 minutes. But the brightness of his smile, his refusal until I insisted to take the tip (which has NEVER happened to me at any other time in my life that I can remember), and his sweet spirit was probably the neatest thing that happened to me today. He warmed my soul; he made me think; and his willingness to give me a little special help without price gave me a brief moment of grace, glorious grace, and I am grateful.

It is true that is in these little grace-filled moments, we sense Christ's coming.

Pinball and Riding the Waves

I am tired. I would imagine that in the previous 420 posts to this blog I have I said this same thing a lot of times. How many times have I written that this week? Ah, I'm just too tired to look.

I am tired because of this burn business, the burn itself and the medication I am taking for it. I am tired today because I did not get home much before midnight last night coming back from the cabinet Christmas party in Columbia and then blogging. I am also tired because over the last two weeks I have often resembled a pinball---in the morning, pull that level and away I go to the office(eventually)--PING time to look at messages and talk to Barbara when I make HER feel like a pinball by giving her gobs of tasks; PING listen to my phone messages and sometimes scan my email before the first pastor comes for evaluation; look at his paperwork, pray before he comes in for him: PING do that again plus the actual interview four times, all of which have been rich with meaning and the leading of the Holy Spirit: PING-talk to Barbara about things she had not been able to ask because I was unavailable; PING answer message PING message PING message. Go home and the pings continue there.

This is really not unlike most folks' life, especially at this time of the year. My image of myself is like I am propelled into the game for that day, hit one bell, hit another, and another, finding Jesus in many of those bell places, but reacting to circumstances that I have been bounced to by another circumstance. And sometimes we just have to live like that for a time, but hopefully never too long.

About twelve years ago, when I was going through a very difficult time in my life, sitting and looking at those "redeemed trees" I wrote about a few weeks ago which were across the driveway from the corner window in my office at Community UMC in Columbia, an image emerged in my head as to how I believed God was holding me up in those days. And it's one that for some reason I remembered this evening. In that image, I am in the ocean, not very far, but past my waist facing the shore. Another person was with me, who was teaching me how to "ride the waves" which was very hard for me. To ride the wave, you have to allow the wave to buoy you up and let it carry you up, trusting it to do so. You should not fight the wave--because if you do, you will end up soaked and under water. With your back to the ocean, you have to trust that you will feel the moment when you need to let the wave carry you, and not anticipate too very much lest you jump at the wrong time instead of letting the wave come to you.

We do a lot of jumping at the wrong time, I think, at least I do. I jump wanting to make my life happen, I let my desire to control, and mostly my inability to trust my life completely to God jump too soon. And so the waves get me sometimes. The pin ball flippers are sending me flying to another one and I react only

Part of Advent is learning to trust God and his timing--He may not come when you want him to but he's right on time, the gospel song sings. Susan, and anyone out there in the blogosphere who may be reading, stop trying to save yourself from the wave--allow it to do the work and trust yourself to it. Erase that pinball game mentality. God gives you direction as you grow closer to him, you'll learn that you are not arbitrarily being bounced from circumstance to circumstance, but being guided in your way of discipleship. You are not powerless because you trust--you are more powerful when you trust that Jesus is walking the way with you, that God asks you only to rely on him, and to lose you fear and fatigue of trying to make it all right by you own power instead of trusting your life to him.

Lord, as I wait, let me not wait for my own longings to be fulfills, but for your will to be done. Let me grow in trust of your loving hand in my life, and help me to let go just a little more, Lord, so I might feel the thrill of trusting you and feeling you on the crest of the wave. Amen

John the Baptist

It is late---we had cabinet in Columbia plus the cabinet Christmas party and I did not get home until well after 11. So I offer tonight the last few paragraphs from a manuscript of a sermon for the second Sunday in Advent--on John the Baptist. I read in a commentary the year I put together this sermon about the scripture where John is in prison and sends some of his disciples to ask Jesus if he indeed was the long awaited Messiah. Jesus tells them to go and tell John what they see, the blind can see, the lame can walk. I would seem from this scripture that John had questions as to whether Jesus was the long awaited One. Does this mean that all of his ministry was a time of waiting? That he really was not sure that Jesus was the one he had fortold would come? In that case, John's life was a testimony to his waiting faith, and his trust in God. Here is the last of the sermon---I think some of this may be from Barbara Brown Taylor:

People tend to be shaped by whatever it is they are waiting for. Have you noticed that? When you want something really really badly, your whole life tends to rearrange itself around that goal. For one person that which is wanted might be a baby, for someone else it might be a certain job, or an academic degree. Many of us wait for our vocation to be madeclear to us, others of us wait for a relationship that will last. Most all of us are still waiting for maturity, for enlightenment, for a bridled tongue, and for a contrite heard.

How about you? What are waiting for, and how is it shaping your life? Are you waiting for certainly, for healing, for love? Are you waiting for recognition, for retirement, for enough money to pay the bills? How about peace and justice on earth? How about the dawning of a new age, in which the wolf and the lamb shall feed together and the lion eat straw like an ox?
Whatever it is that our hearts yearn for, chances are that it has something to do with our vision of what it would mean for us to made whole, to be transformed into people who are not afraid anymore, whose basic needs are met and whose wounds are healed and who are more nearly the people God created us to be.

John the Baptist, the odd one who knew the truth, lived a life of waiting, a life that he lived with integrity, for he never turned the spotlight on himself, he always pointed ahead to the one who was coming. John knew the essential truth that all faithful people must know--that although God seems to delay in his coming; God always comes in the time that is right. Not so in haste, my heart, the hymn says, Have faith in God and wait; although he lingers long, he never comes too late. John knew this, even to his earthly death, which came too early for him to see the vindication of God’s love and power over the darkness of death itself.

During this Advent, perhaps God is trying to teach each of us to be people who learn how to be odd in that same way. That we are to be people who know the truth of God, that God is in charge of this universe, and of our lives, and we need not burden ourselves by impatience; we need not make things happen that end up birthing decisions that have not had time to mature; we need not push and push, do and do. Maybe this Advent, we need to learn to be, and in learning to be, we will learn to trust God with our lives, to approach him instead of with grabby fists, but with open hands that allow him the time and space to fill them will all good gifts.

Let us wait on our Lord, with the oddity of Christians who now what it is to trust God with our lives, even, as with John the Baptist. The Advent truth of waiting on God’s time is truth that is real, that can be trusted and that will make us free. Amen

Today I was speaking with Bob Howard about his trip this summer with others in our conference to Mozambique. He said that wherever you go there, if folks know you are a preacher, you are asked to preach. He preached several times in the bush, but he also preached in a church of 500 in Maputo. He told me about the choir sang that day and he remembered them singing "Ezekiel Saw the Wheel" and how well it was sung. So, I said, let me get this right: You heard a choir in Maputo United Methodist Church on the coast of Mozambique sing a slave spiritual, right? Yes, he said. I knew I needed to think a bit more about this and in fact did some research on the song and its meaning.

I gleaned from several internet sources that it is believed that this particular spiritual was often used as a code for slaves who were fleeing to freedom to illustrate the Underground Railroad. A wheel within a wheel was a good way to talk about the circuit of the Railroad and perhaps even to illustrate to one another what was known about that circuit.

I also learned that there are folks who believe that what Ezekiel saw was not really a vision from God but something else altogether as this t-shirt says:

And then there are those who think Ezekiel was on some hallucinogenic drug and that's why he saw this fantastic vision.

It's really easier to go with one of these more bizarre explanation for Ezekiel's vision than to take it as the vision that it was. I am not going to give my interpretation here, but I have been thinking that between the slaves who originated this song, and those in Maputo who sang it the Sunday that Bob was there may have had some real resonance between them. The American slaves sang the song as a song of hope, of freedom, for a different life that could exist. Despite their slavery, they knew they were made for freedom. The Maputo choir, many members who could remember the terrible war that killed so many, most all having been effected by drought and other natural disasters, could sing this hope of freedom, and of moving forward, because they know they were made for freedom too.

I am not sure I can ever experience that same sense that the American slaves and the choir in Mozambique had/have, but on occasion, I wish I could have a vision, so fantastic, so wild, that people would still be talking about it 2500 years later. More importantly, I yearn for a vision that has so much the stamp of God on it, so full of a transcendent spirit that I cannot grasp its meaning. I want to live like another wild one, John the Baptist who wore strange clothes and ate strange food and faithfully preached a message of what was to come, allowing God to use him as the forerunner of Someone who yes, calls us to repent, but fulfills John's message not with sheer judgement but with unending grace.

However, the vision that I am called to live out right now is the work of resourcing churches who want to blossom, but who need help both believing the fact that they can and need the tools that will give them courage to blossom in the right direction; I am called to listen to pastors, most of them who really believe that they are not doing a very good job at the ministry, and who need someone to point out their gifts, yes, but who will help them name what is holding them back, and to bless their attempts, and to always let them know that, yes, there are areas where intentional work needs to happen and that they are already blessed and beloved by God and by me. I don't get those wild dreams like Ezekiel about wheels and moving parts and fantastic creatures; I don't get to go into the desert and wear camel hair and eat locusts, but I do get to pray, and grow in my own faith, and to speak the truth to pastors and congregations. That in itself often gives be wild days and wild nights. It also lets me experience hope for our church and to sense the freedom God gives us to be courageous in the midst of a nay-saying world. I guess I do know a thing or two about being bound in guilt and shame, too, and thank God I not only hope for redemption but it that it has come to be.

The WDYDTY question

A bit of a cry for sympathy this entry. Sorry.

Whose beautiful but bandaged hand is this, you ask?? 'Tis mine I am forced to admit. But please don't ask me "What did you DO to yourself?" You may ask me "What happened to your hand?" or "Oh, Susan, I'm sorry that your hand is hurt" or "How did your hand get hurt?"but I reiterate, do not ask me "What did you DO to yourself?"

I have tried my best not to ask that "what did you do to yourself" (from now on referred to in this entry as the "wdydty" question) when I noticed a bandage or a cast. It sounds like the asking one is blaming the injured one for having done something to herself...and that it was the injured person's own fault that the injury or accident, usually, occurred.

There was a lot of room in the scriptures leading up to Christmas for that question to be asked. "Mary, what did you do going and getting yourself pregnant?" and "Joseph, what did you do to yourself asking that girl Mary who now is pregnant to marry you...see, she's
gone off and slept with somebody else...your judgement is terrible" or "John, for Pete's sale, why don't you lighten up a little, guy? What are doing to yourself out hear in the desert acting like a fool...you deserve any criticism you get!" and you can probably think of more.

I know there is an ongoing campaign to stamp out complaining. Maybe we should have one to stamp our blaming. It's been my experience that when people do get injured, or didn't think and did something that hurt, or when people get into situations where we wished they had better judgement, those people who are hurt are already feeling pretty guilty and stupid for what happened, and they have enough pain already without folks around them asking them what they did to cause this hurt to occur. People ask the wdydty question not really meaning to place blame I guess. And I may have let that phrase slip out of my own mouth sometime.

We never know what is going on with another person fully. When somebody gets herself into a situation where she has ended up hurt, either of body or spirit, the best approach is to always be generous in our sympathy and careful in our question asking. Or better, we can just listen and make those little "ohhh" or "that must of hurt" or "how can I help" replies, the last being the best sound really, and an "I love you" thrown in there somewhere too.

So, you ask me "What happened to your hand?" I burnt it Thanksgiving on a rack in the oven. It did not hurt for two days even though there were these interesting white bubbles (some might call blisters) that had immediately appeared after the burn. It started hurting Sunday and has not gotten any better and it is gross to look at and there definitely is some swelling. When both Barbara, my assistant and Cana, my daughter told me today to call my doc, I did, and her nurse said "GET THEE TO OUR URGENTCARE CENTER AND DON'T WAIT" (that was a paraphrase) I did, found out that it was indeed a second degree burn that was becoming infected, was all bandaged up and was taught how to show someone else how to bandage it (see picture) given a prescription burn cream and another for a heavy antibiotic. I get to wear this bandage thing for at least a week, maybe more re dressing it twice a day. It hurts. I have been unusually fatigued and teary this week and this may be part of the culprit. So there, you asked, I told, and yes, I am garnering sympathy.

And thanks for not asking "What did you do to yourself?" But if you do, I will tell you anyway.

Delight and desires

Some thoughts I have and wonder if any one reading this might have too:

I purchased this same bracelet a few weeks ago while I was in Indianapolis and I have been wearing it just about every day. I wear it because it is pretty, with its two-tone look. But I mostly wear it because I am under conviction about what it says: "Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart." Psalm 37:4

I guess some who would read this verse would have it mean that if you delight in the Lord (take delight in the Lord) that means he will give you anything and everything you want.

Hmmm...

I wear it for what this verse means to me each time my eyes rest on it around my wrist. Take delight in the Lord --meaning, I believe, feast on his word, by giving plenty of time to being in God's presence in prayer and meditation each day; partake of his love which for me is boundless; take time to luxuriously bask in the joy of his presence being amazed and thankful that he loves me, even me.

And when I begin to do these things, then the desires of my heart change. I no longer desire those "things" of life or for my future to be as I imagine that I want it to be. When I am in his presence, and do it faithfully and intentionally, what my heart desires becomes quite different. My heart begins to desire what God desires for me, and I pray for a vision of what that is and most of all I submit my heart to God's own, and my greatest desire is to seek what is pleasing in God's sight, not simply what I would like my life to be like. If I spend time delighting myself in simply being loved by God and brought close to him through Christ, the desires of my heart become simple really--to live so closely to him so that my heart beats with his and indeed I will one will with God. And through it all, I become more and more aware in my spirit that love is growing, satisfaction is growing and that God indeed can do far more with who I am and what my future holds than I could ask or imagine.

These are the thoughts that I feel as if I need to keep closest to me. And so each morning, I put on my bracelet. And when I look and see and feel it it there, God is reminding me that I have not fully reached the place of willing one will with him yet but God walks with me on my way to perfection.

Lord Jesus, this Advent as we live with anticipation and yearn for the time yet to come, keep us yearning toward you. Amen

Zechariah and His Silence

In the assigned scripture this morning in my devotional guide was the story of Zechariah the priest being told by the angel Gabriel that, in their old age, and in spite of Elizabeth being barren, there were to have a child. Zechariah expresses his doubt about the situation, and in response, Zechariah was struck dumb. He did not speak again until after John's birth, on John's circumcision day. When everyone thought the baby would be named after his father. Elizabeth spoke up and told them that he was to be named John and Zechariah confirms it by writing it out...and Zechariah finds his voice. He was not able to speak for 9 months, the whole time while Elizabeth was pregnant. I was reminded of that Progressive Insurance commercial where Flo is talking with the monks:




I identify with with Flo the Progressive girl here. It is very hard for me not to talk when there are people around to talk to. Very hard. And when I thought about this this morning, it seemed to me to be too harsh a punishment for Zechariah. This will be the only child he ever has and he won't be able to speak about it. He can't sing praises in the temple; he won't be able to say out loud to Elizabeth how much he loves her; he won't be able to say words of comfort to her when she has morning sickness (which was probably okay with Elizabeth); he can't tell the vendor it's a PICKLE that he wants, not just a cucumber; he didn't get to speak all of the words he had in his heart for young cousin Mary when she came to visit; he couldn't sat "coochy-coochy-coo" to John on the day of his birth.


What did he think about all that time when he was unable to speak, and only use sign language or his slate to give the barest of his thoughts? I guess one thought he might of had was when Elizabeth told him that she was pregnant "why did I doubt that Gabriel guy?" But he was able to communicate in other ways, I am sure. His eyes spoke his love for his dear Elizabeth; he chuckled, perhaps with her when they went to their Lamaze classes and realized that they could have been the grandparents of any of the to-be parents there; he sat by Elizabeth's side as she knitted booties; and he made a happy sound, not really a word, when the neighbors came with their gifts.

Leaning to communicate without talking all the time can be a challenge for lots of preachers, I've noticed when they are not preaching. It is hard to practice Listening, really listening, not just waiting for the next time you can say your next elucidating if not clever thought. Waiting in silence when someone stops by the church to tell you something so important that it is hard for them to say it. That can be very hard. Letting someone else set the agenda and plan a new ministry with a only bit of verbal shaping on your point, but mostly again, listening is a challenge too.

Zechariah heard many things during those months. And heard them without getting to make or having to make a statement about it. A bane and a blessing. I think I'll try it a little more this Advent.

Advent in a Minor Key

It's Advent! I have resolved not to bah humbug when I hear a Christmas hymn the first Sunday of Advent in worship , instead of sticking to only Advent hymns at least for the first two weeks. Our children will never learn those Christmas carols unless they hear them in church since in many schools these songs are no longer sung. I also just go ahead and put up the Christmas decorations right after Thanksgiving as I have done in my home this weekend. I have two Christmas parties this week, and I get to wear my cheery sweaters and jackets and put on my ornament earrings with the little clappers in them that make sound every time I move my head. Yippee!!

But oops. Try as I might to celebrate Christmas with everybody else, in my heart I still know it is Advent. It is the season of the Christian year that I feel like I need to most. Waiting is not my best thing. I too often buy into the instant gratification (literally) and read the last few pages of a book just as I start, which ruins everything. So my waiting is too often marred by my doing those things which I really don't want to do in order to get what I thought I wanted which really is not what I wanted at all. Maybe you do not resonate with this sullied sort of waiting. Maybe you do. Knowing this about us, still God gives us a chance to wait with integrity again, not jumping to the end, even though and especially though, we already know what the end of the Advent wait will be.

I really don't think the point of Advent is about the fact we already know what will happen at Christmas. I think it is about learning how to wait, examining our own messing up that waiting by putting our emPHASis on the wrong sylLAble. Which makes Advent not always happy clappy time. Advent has its moments of facing the fact we who like to be in control of the timing of our lives even though we really aren't. That's not fun. And we so often remember our times of forced waiting in the past. Waiting for that phone call after the job interview, waiting to see that car come down the street that carries our children and their families as they arrive for the holiday, waiting in the hospital waiting room after surgery on our loved one, wanting the doctor to come out and talk, but so worried what he might say.

This morning, I was at North Spring UMC to preach. The first thing that happened in the service, with no introduction or words spoken, was that a young boy, probably ten or eleven, came up to the music stand on the chancel with his violin and played I Have Decided to Follow Jesus. He did a fine job, and I thought this song really appropriate for the first Sunday of a new Christian year which starts us on another cycle of Christ's birth, teaching, death, resurrection and the celebration of the Holy Spirit. And yes, we must decide to follow Jesus, once again. But when Trent, our young man, got to the chorus and the last two lines, "no turning back, no turning back," I was a bit startled to hear that last "turning back" to be played in the ominous minor key, not the bouncy major key that you always hear. I thought at first that he had just accidentally played it that way, but over and over again, when he came to that last "turning back" he went to the minor key.

Waiting we are, and there is no turning back. In that waiting, we again come smack up against ourselves and our imperfections, our need to rush things, our need to be at the helm of everything we do, our need to control ours and others lives around us. It is a bit of a minor key season, yes. And no amount of almond bark or tinsel can turn the minor key into a major one.

In the end, though, we do not merely wait. We really anticipate. We look forward to. We yearn. We asked the watchman to tell us when the night will be over; we ask Emmanuel, God with us to come. We see a rose blooming in the desert. We hear the Baptist cry, and we know there will be an end to our waiting, an end to our anxiety about the ruts of sin we have lived in, and in fact, Love will come down at Christmas, Paradise will be opened, and through the bounty of God's grace, He comes again.

Rushing the season...

Today I rushed the season...the season of Advent that is. From the picture you can see me wearing all purple (I know, I know, I might be more up to date if it were cerulean blue) and you can't see it but I am also wearing the beautiful pendant that Nancye Dunlap gave me a few years ago, with the outline of Bethlehem on it. It was fun. Wearing purple and the necklace, I mean. Okay, and I also put up the Christmas tree....so I guess I was rushing another season, too.

I also started today Robert Webber's book Ancient-Future Time: Forming Spirituality through the Christian Year. How I came into possession of this book is itself a bit of a story. About four years I was sitting in Hal Knight's office at Saint Paul. Hal has more books than anybody I know. He has them categorized. When you take any class of his, be prepared to bring a tote sack for the large bibliographies he is known to give you. On this particular day, I was there (for a reason I have forgotten) and I gazed up and saw Webber's Ancient Future Faith with which I was then and am now very familiar, and right next to it was Ancient Future Time. I believe I must have said a time or two that I really wish I had that book, when after I had said it the third time, Hal simply got up, went to his bookcase, and gave me the book. Anyway, I have never read it. It is, to say the least, my kind of book. This picture was just me acting silly so I could get a blog pic (Cana took it)...most of my reading today took place in the snack bar at Target in Ward Parkway, where Cana felt called to go this afternoon (not the snack bar, the sale clothing area in juniors)

The focus of the book isn't just to teach about the Christian year, but it is to help the reader to focus her life in the life of Christ, which the Christian year celebrates and to live in the events of Christ's life, so that all time is ordered by it. The Christian year is not a rote order to use, that soon becomes only repetitious each year, and deadens our senses to the spirit. Instead, Webber states, and I certainly agree, that to hold to the celebrations and seasons of the liturgical year, means that we can live WITH Christ in a way that we cannot without it.

My belief is that Advent invites us to wait. To wait in hope. And to wait already fully aware that what we are waiting for has already come. It is the time, early in the season when we face the grandly mysterious promises that Christ will come again. It is the time when days grow shorter and we yearn for light. It is the time when winter comes and holds us in its grip, and the pink candle among the purple winks at us and says, yes, wait, but with anticipation and joy. It is the time of asking Christ, the long expected one to come, and to dress the house and to wait, and to not hurry to the end, for its in the yearning forward that our spirit lives are lit with passion and hope.

Have a blessed Advent, friends.

Tribulation Christmas!

I am currently reading a very interesting and helpful book Following Jesus in a Culture of Fear by Scott Bader-Saye. Early in the book, he discusses how our current social climate, spurred on by marketing and media creates a culture of fear. He talks about the fear that some churches create, encouraging the members to be fearful of the world, opting only to engage with Christian believers, Bader-Saye writies "some people would rather retreat to a Christian subculture (labelling anything outside that as unsafe) than live in a complex gray-shaded world." I was reminded of my son complaining about the music at a church where he recently worshiped with his girlfriend, where current rock songs tunes were put to "Christianish" words. It kind of weakens both....I understand what he was talking about, not sure I described it here well. I was reminded of what my son said when I read this in the book, "We pretend to risk engagement with the world by mimicking the culture's trends in music, fashion and technology, when all we are really doing is covering the rough edges of real life with a smooth coat of Jesus>" (p. 21).

I have been seeing advertisement for the Sheffield Family Life Center's presentation of Tribulation Christmas. I thought I knew what it must be about, and unfortunately I was right when I checked out the website. I found a blog by a member of the cast which states:

This is the 25th year for Tribulation Christmas.Experience the Christmas story in a way that you have never before seen. This is one of the most powerful dramas you will ever see. It depicts the last days with the Christmas story actually woven thru it. The production is on par with a professional Las Vegas show. Experience the rapture, angels flying above the audience, the pits of hell, those who have been left behind, and Jesus Christ arriving as King of Kings and Lord of Lords. Busloads come from as far away as Nebraska and Arkansas to see this annual event.

Where have I been all these years not to know about this? Now, I believe with all my soul that Jesus will come again in a glory that we cannot even imagine. I do not know what that will look like, which Biblical account is closer to what will actually happen. I also know that when I go making fun of things like Tribulation Christmas I feel really creepy because the truth is, who really knows what will happen? But I do know that on Christmas Day the Prince of Peace, the very Lamb of God came to life and to each of us. I know that "Peace be with you" was one of Jesus's favorite things to say. I don't think I will be going to see Tribulation Christmas this year, or any year. My God who brought to life Jesus his son in a stable who later invited us to take up our crosses, and told us that the last will be first, who did not fight back when the soldiers came to arrest him, who listened to outsiders and cuddled children is the one I will see this Christmas, not in a conflict and war, but in a God come to earth to save and serve. Not a mamby pamby Jesus though, but a man of strength and certain of his mission. Someone who inspired fishermen to become disciples and a tax collector his profits. My Jesus is triumphant, but only through a dark and excruciating death. My Jesus has risen, his spirit surrounds me now, and I really don't have to go to see a play that tries to scare religion into me. I believe, not cheap grace, but grace born of pain, grace that finds its deepest resonance in us when we realize how much we need it, how sinful we can be. That's my Jesus and I am stickin' to him.

Trusting the Hoop

Today was another day of pastoral evaluations. One of those with whom I met was Kathleen Schmidtke, our new senior pastor at First UMC in Marshall. At each evaluation, I check in with the pastor about the method by which he or she is practicing the spiritual disciplines. I really like talking about this with Kathleen, since she has a real interest in new and evolving prayer practices. Today she told me about the wonderful experience she and her husband Scott had last summer at the SoulFeast gathering at Lake Junaluska. One of the workshops she attended there was on hooping--hula, not cough---there is no prayer practice that I am aware of that involves whooping cough, except that of parents praying that the steam of the shower will work.

Kathleen shared with me that when she went into the workshop, she had thought she would learn about hooping, not actually do it. She did not believe that she could still hula hoop, believing that her limberness for such a thing had fallen away as she aged (she is not really that old...;-)) The teacher of the workshop, though, convinced her that she should try it. And what her teacher said was that when hooping, always let the hoop come to you. Don't try to make it go around....it won't work that way. You cannot do it that way. What you have to do is to let the hoop come to you and go with it. Let the hoop come to you. Don't make it stay up and go around by your own coordination or lack thereof. Let the hoop come to you. Hooping, with its rhythm and repetitiveness, reminds us that God is in the rhythm of our lives, that even when the hoop does not touch you for that teeny nanosecond as it revolves around your waist, it will come back again....let the hoop come to you.

I am a person who too often has not let that hoop come to me. I have wanted something to happen so very much in my life that I try like heck, sometimes to my own detriment that I try to MAKE it happen. I have a feeling those reading this may have had the same experience. I imagine that I know what is best for my life and that it is up to me to make "it" work, whatever the "it" is. What is happening then is that I fail to let the hoop come to me---I do not trust enough, I fail to be obedient and my hoop-hope falls down to the ground ---kerrplatt.

It's about trust, all of this faith thing---about trusting our God to come to us and realizing that while we can practice being open to his coming, it's up to God to enclose us with his grace. As we think this Sunday about Christ the King and two weeks from now as Advent dawns, God calls us again to trust in the promises he has made us---he will not leave us orphans; he will give us others with whom to walk the way of faith, and at Golgotha, we are promised that all the sin, the hurt, the places of lostness that we feel, God came to us in his Son, and through him, we know that truly God is always moving toward us. He moves toward us even as we are trying so very hard to make our lives work by ourselves. Soon his walk to us becomes a dance, and as God leads, we follow, one with him, trusting that as he encircles us with his arms, our trust in him will free us to move with grace and freedom as he holds us near forever.