Known Part 2

 

This week you are laying down your summer homework alongside Psalm 139.  Please remember, this is not for a grade!  Please remember, even if your rectangles of places are half-drawn and your circles of people incomplete, and you haven’t even started on the starlit moments of life, God is there.  This is what the Psalmist is singing to your shy soul.  Hear the opening words of Psalm 139 again, this time from the Message paraphrase.  Read these words aloud so you can hear as if God is saying/singing/blessing you with these words:

 

God, investigate my life;
    get all the facts firsthand.
I’m an open book to you;
    even from a distance, you know what I’m thinking.
You know when I leave and when I get back;
    I’m never out of your sight.
You know everything I’m going to say
    before I start the first sentence.
I look behind me and you’re there,
    then up ahead and you’re there, too—
    your reassuring presence, coming and going.
This is too much, too wonderful—
    I can’t take it all in!

 

I am struck by that last sentence ~ I can’t take it all in!  Even after examining and exploring the various components of my life, even after having new insights into my life, there are so many mysteries.  I sometimes feel like, rather than a masterpiece of art, my life is like Legos scattered across the carpet by a toddler.  Even though we curate and carefully construct our lives in scrapbooks or Instagram posts, behind the scenes and screenshots, there are so many emotions.  Because our minds protest and insist that everything be neat and tidy, we tend to fill in the uncertainties of life ~ our own and others' lives ~ with a false sense of confidence.  We say, “Oh I know exactly what you are feeling,” to someone who is grieving.  But everyone’s grief is different, unique as their fingerprint.  On the one hand, when you say you know how the other feels, you are trying to connect.  On the other hand, not everyone has the right to hear your opinion/thoughts.  This is holy for us to remember.  Recall from last week that powerfully challenging line from Ecclesiastes: “A time to keep silent.”  The advocates among us think, “Wait, you can’t stay silent/quiet now.  We have to say something!!  Do something!!  Get your cape because we are off to save the day.”  Notice the wisdom writer of Ecclesiastes doesn’t say that you should always, forever and forever, stay quiet or silent.  The writer didn’t say, “Just stand on the sideline and don’t speak until spoken to.”  Rather, quiet can be God’s first language.  As the mystics say, there is a reason that the words silent and listen share the same letters!!  When we are quiet, we can listen to what others are really saying, let God get a word in edgewise, maybe hear our own shy soul, and possibly enjoy the stillness without our addiction to perpetual motion.  Let the psalm above wrap around you, hold you, and remind you that God loves all of you.  Full stop.  Period.  Amen.

Known Part 1

 

For the past month, you have listened to your one wild and precious life.  You have charted people, places, experiences, and encounters.  You have been time traveling as you realized your parents preached a gospel of what was expected of you.  Your family of origin served up a story alongside the mashed potatoes at meals every night.  Your teachers, friends, and culture have taken the red editorial pen to mark up your life.  Then culture told you that you were responsible/accountable for authoring your one story ~ never mind the fact that some conditions were set in stone ~ like where you were born and who you were born to. 

 

There is no new assignment to add to your chart/artwork of your life this week.  Rather, I invite you to breathe and be.  Take a deep breath and slowly exhale.  Take in the oxygen of God’s love, letting it warm your heart and tickle your pinkie toes.  Now exhale all the toxins of carbon dioxide that have been collected within you.  Exhale that comment from that person who has been living rent-free in your mind.  Exhale that expectation that you must be perfect, know all the answers, and come up with the best joke for your sermon.  Exhale the waiting for the doctor’s appointment and the frustration that others are not who you want them to be (because we are not who we want to be either).  Exhale pain.  Exhale the unfinishedness of this life. 

 

Breathe and be.

 

Slowly read, pray, these words ~ say them aloud so that your shy soul can hear them. 

 

O Eternal One, You have explored my heart and know exactly who I am;
² You even know the small details like when I take a seat and when I stand up again.
    Even when I am far away, You know what I’m thinking.
³ You observe my wanderings and my sleeping, my waking and my dreaming,
    and You know everything I do in more detail than even I know.
⁴ You know what I’m going to say long before I say it.
    It is true, Eternal One, that You know everything and everyone.
⁵ You have surrounded me on every side, behind me and before me,
    and You have placed Your hand gently on my shoulder.
⁶ It is the most amazing feeling to know how deeply You know me, inside and out;
    the realization of it is so great that I cannot comprehend it.

⁷ Can I go anywhere apart from Your Spirit?
    Is there anywhere I can go to escape Your watchful presence? (Psalm 139)

 

Which word/verse/idea leapt off the screen and landed (maybe with a thud) in your mind or heart or soul?  I know for me, it is, “You (God) even know the small details (of my life)”.  My first response is, “Eek…that means God know what I said to that driver who cut me off in traffic.”  My second response is, “Can God really love all my warts/wants/wounds, the ones I keep hidden from others (and myself)?”  And my third response is, “Maybe this is what is so amazing about grace!”.  Hold this passage and let it hold you, listen to how the psalmist, centuries ago invited people to let God hold our whole lives.  Amen.  

Seasonality of God ~ Prayer

 

Wisdom-writing, song-singing, silence-tending, presence-sharing God, meet us here and now in this messy moment where breaking down and building up are happening in us and around us.  Meet us here as we try to tend to the rips in the fabric of life, even as stress creates another hole for us to mend.  In a moment when hate is too loud, and love is too easily missed or dismissed.  God, meet us with Your presence.  Let us sit in the mystery and marvel of life in ways that open us to You.  Continue to offer us grace, peace, hope, mercy, justice, and love that makes our wounded spirits whole.  Even in our blessed brokenness and uncertainty, help us reach out in very human ways to others.  Be with us at this moment and every day this month.  Amen.  

The Seasonality of God ~ Soundtracks of Faith

 

For those of a certain vintage, you cannot hear Ecclesiastes 3 without hearing The Byrds’ song, Turn! Turn! Turn! I think this is good.  Because your life has a soundtrack.  Your life has a melody and music that has been playing, maybe in the background or being blasted from your stereo right now.  As you look over your life, what music connects to a place or people?  For example, I can think of the connection between “Let There Be Peace on Earth” and the place summer camp, even still seeing some of my friends’ faces around the campfire as we sung that hymn.  Or I think of 80s rock bands that connect with my move to Des Moines and listening to those songs with my friends.  Or I still hear the song that my wife and I danced to at our wedding.  Music teaches and tells us truths that ordinary words (like mine) just can’t do.  So today, to your chart, list songs ~ doesn’t have to be from the hymnal ~ that defined or described the seasons.  Or what song/songs today are helping to soothe your soul?  Do you hear other songs, besides The Byrds, in the words of Ecclesiastes?  Play with music today.  Listen to music today.  Let the notes reverberate and resonate in your soul.  Amen.

The Seasonality of God

 

Teacher: For everything that happens in life—there is a season, a right time for everything under heaven:

    A time to be born, a time to die;
        a time to plant, a time to collect the harvest;
    A time to kill, a time to heal;
        a time to tear down, a time to build up;
    A time to cry, a time to laugh;
        a time to mourn, a time to dance;
    A time to scatter stones, a time to pile them up;
        a time for a warm embrace, a time for keeping your distance;
    A time to search, a time to give up as lost;
        a time to keep, a time to throw out;
    A time to tear apart, a time to bind together;
        a time to be quiet, a time to speak up;
    A time to love, a time to hate;
        a time to go to war, a time to make peace. (The Voice Translation)

 

How are these words stirring and singing to you as we continue to lean in and listen to the wisdom of this passage?  Are there insights that you’ve discerned and discovered by returning to these words over the last few days?  Are there lingering frustrations because you are trying to figure out when there is ever a time for war or hate or killing?  I know those 3 or 28 on the list certainly cause my mind to whirl and soul to swirl, and eventually I conclude I can’t rationally and reasonably explain everything!  One of the lines I love is about mourning and dancing.  This makes me wonder if maybe this list isn’t about separate, segregated, segmented times, but about how the two times on each line above might influence the other.  Is there a connection between keeping and throwing out?  Are some of the times inextricably in tension with each other?  Because at funerals, I have seen tears that no box of Kleenex can stop and laughter that heals the soul.  I have witnessed people share honestly raw emotions and find healing from the ache.  How have love and hate always been counterweights to each other and at the same time coexisting?  How have war and peace always been not distant and disconnected, but so close that we barely know where one begins and the other ends?  I pray today, you might see these 28 ingredients as part of the recipe of each of our lives, that when they get mixed and mingled together, they each contribute to the stew we serve others in our stories.  Hold this.  Hear how these words have been part of your life and continue to be part of the song we are all singing, both individually and collectively these days.  Amen.

The Seasonality of God

 

There’s an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth:

A right time for birth and another for death,
A right time to plant and another to reap,
A right time to kill and another to heal,
A right time to destroy and another to construct,
A right time to cry and another to laugh,
A right time to lament and another to cheer,
A right time to make love and another to abstain,
A right time to embrace and another to part,
A right time to search and another to count your losses,
A right time to hold on and another to let go,
A right time to rip out and another to mend,
A right time to shut up and another to speak up,
A right time to love and another to hate,
A right time to wage war and another to make peace. (The Message Translation)

 

One of the truths hidden in plain sight in this poem is how close to creation these words are.  We live in a world of air conditioning, electricity, 24-hour shopping, with delivery right to our doorstep.  To the writer of Ecclesiastes, you might as well have been describing an alien planet!  In the days when these words were written, people were either farmers or herders.  Sure, there were a few merchants, soldiers, officials, priests, and rulers, too.  But most people had soil in their souls and under their fingernails.  Living intimately with the land and around creation means a different experience compared to our world where we are sheltered from the elements and have a supermarket on every street corner.  Look at the second line about planting and harvesting.  This isn’t just poetic prose; this was the profession of many who first heard these words.  Farmers know that there is one time to plant and another time to pluck up.  Juxtapose this with the truth that we live in a world where we expect to get fruit and veggies, even out of season.  In a world of convenience, we forget that an apple in the middle of July doesn’t taste the same as one plucked from the tree in October up north.  Same with the words about killing and healing.  Too often, my mind wants to go to extremes, partly because that is what we hear too much around us.  Partly because this poem keeps swinging us from one extreme to another like a giant swing.  The word “kill” can make me think of images of war, refugees, mass shootings, and arguments over sensible gun laws.  Yet, the context here, in an agrarian culture, is more about killing a chicken for dinner or offering a dove as a sacrifice at the temple.  We might also think of chomping on a carrot that is giving us energy.  This brightly orange and beautiful vegetable absorbed from the soil, sun, and soaking rain to grow.  I mentioned on Sunday that because we live in a world that loves to push and pull us to political/economic/religious edges, we might be tempted to classify, categorize, prioritize, and idolize some of the 28 times named above as either good or bad.  But it doesn’t have to be so.  Has there been a time when you needed to cast away a stone that was too heavy?  Has there been a time you ended a relationship for your own well-being?  Which of the 28 times in this list leap off the screen for you?  Which of the 28 times sit uncomfortably in your stomach, causing indigestion?  Which ones connect to the timeline you worked on in July?  Sit quietly, listening for God’s wisdom in these words intersecting, interrupting, and interpreting our lives right now.  Amen.

The Seasonality of God

For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die;
a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill and a time to heal;
a time to break down and a time to build up;
a time to weep and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn and a time to dance;
a time to throw away stones and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek and a time to lose;
a time to keep and a time to throw away;
a time to tear and a time to sew;
a time to keep silent and a time to speak;
a time to love and a time to hate;
a time for war and a time for peace. (The NRSV)

 

What are your responses as you reflect on the words above?  I know I have lots of feelings when I hear/read these words.  I feel both comforted and challenged.  This passage takes you on a rollercoaster of emotions, each line a pendulum swing from one extreme to another.  The wisdom writer in Ecclesiastes starts with the mystery of birth, life, and death.  I don’t remember my birth, and I don’t know when I will draw my last breath.  In some ways our lives are mysteries from beginning to end.  I think of the beautiful Psalm 90 that says, “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”  It is tempting to see that word, “number,” as a mathematical equation to solve or a calendar event to control.  We don’t know how many days we have.  The author, Oliver Burkeman, estimates that each of us has about 4000 weeks of life.  In a world obsessed, addicted, and stressed out by trying to get everything done and be the best version of yourself, we feel/carry the weight of time on our shoulders, pushing us down into the ground.  Perhaps it isn’t only gravity that keeps us connected to the earth?  Centuries before Burkeman encouraged us to be thoughtful, prayerful, curious, open, and loving in how we live, both the Psalmist and Ecclesiastes combined theology and philosophy into a recipe for us to taste.  This connects to charting the art of your life.  You started with people and places, mixed in experiences and encounters, thought about God’s presence, experimented with the words: faith/hope/and love, and yesterday we spoke about the seasonality of the Sacred. This is a foundation for you to lay beside the words above.

 

This week, I invite you to lay this passage alongside your timeline/art project of life.  The words above are not only about the individual.  As a pastor, I do many funerals.  I am confronted, confounded, and challenged by the fact that life is finite and how much of life is beyond my control.  As you look at your timeline, are there significant births and deaths you might note?  When did your parents, spouse, child, loved one, soul friend, pets who are like family, or others die?  How did you process that pain and grief?  I don’t think you get over grief like a common cold.  Rather, you find ways to pick up the pieces, some of which are sharper than a shard of glass and some of the broken pieces shine with new light through the jagged edges.  Each day we gather experiences as one way God is co-authoring your story.  You might consider how each move you’ve made to a new home involves new beginnings and endings.  Or each person you’ve met is like encountering a new story, or each rupture in a relationship that can’t be repaired no matter how much duct tape you try to apply causes ache that might still be persisting.  Let this opening line of Ecclesiastes create a spaciousness in you to explore the mysterious ways of life/death/resurrection that is a thread/theme in each of our stories.  Amen.