Dust

 

Then the Lord God formed (hu)man from the dust of the ground and breathed into the nostrils the breath of life, and the (hu)man became a living being.  Genesis 2:7 (NRSV)

 

So YHWH fashioned an earth creature out of the clay of the earth and blew into its nostrils the breath of life.  Genesis 2:7 (Inclusive Bible)

 

One day the Eternal God scooped dirt out of the ground, sculpted it into the shape we call human, breathed the breath that gives life into the nostrils of the human, and the human became a living soul. Genesis 2:7 (The Voice Translation)

 

God formed Human out of dirt from the ground and blew into its nostrils the breath of life. The Human came alive—a living soul! (The Message).

 

Yesterday, we began a series called Love Makes a Family.  In Genesis 2, after God forms, fashions, breathes, and loves the first dust being into life (Dusty), God observes that it isn’t good for a human to be alone.  This isn’t about dating or marriage.  This is about connection.  If you rewind just a bit to the first creation narrative in Genesis 1:1-2:3, at the very end, God says, “Let us make humans in our image” Genesis 1:26.  God is in relationship (with both the Spirit and Chaos) before the sky/seas/manatees/Creation responds to God’s voice.  God is in collaboration and cooperation with the Spirit, sloshing chaos, and Christ from the beginning.  God loves committees and group projects.  I asked you in the sermon to ponder some of the people who have left fingerprints upon your heart in your life.  In Genesis 2, God seeks a partner, helper, or companion for the first human.  While the dogs were great, while the birds sang songs, while the armadillos had a great sense of humor, it wasn’t until the first human gazed into the eyes of another featherless biped that the soul felt full.  We are meant/built for relationships because that is a central and core characteristic of our Creator.  Who are your partners who make your heart sing?  In fact, rewind and remember.  Who were your pals in elementary school, high school, when you started work, and right now?  This isn’t meant to be an exhaustive assignment.  Scroll through the photo album that lives in your memory.  Are you still in contact with any of them?  Which friend have you known the longest?  This isn’t a competition.  Sometimes we meet a soul friend late in life.  Further, it isn’t the length of the list that matters.  As a matter of fact, Dunbar’s number suggests we can maybe only have three to five intimate friendships and that we can only really “know” up to 150 people ~ after that, they become acquaintances.  Or as Arthur Brooks says, you can have deal friends (where the relationship is transactional) or real friends (where no one keeps a spreadsheet over how many times you ask for a favor).  Ponder your list.  What are your thoughts?  Can you have more than five close friends?  Do you feel like you really know more than 150 people?  Or do you find that several people are more deal friends than real?  If Love Makes a Family, then how can our church encourage caring and belonging (two of our values) that is real for each person?  May God expand and improvise our living out of these questions each day.  

Prayer

 

Soft Subtle Spirit

 

Last Sunday, I invited you to think of the multitude of ways the Spirit can be found.  The Spirit may not always be splashy or specular; may not show up with noisy gongs or clanging cymbals or beating drums.  The Spirit can be soft as butterfly wings fluttering against the wind.  The Spirit can be as subtle as a word spoken by someone that initially you breezed past, but in reflection left more than a trace on your life.  When have you felt the Spirit this week?  I usually think of this in those goosebump moments or when a truth lands in my gut or when I feel the “more-than-ness” of the holy hovering/humming in my life.  When I am beyond words.  I think of times I am walking in the woods or standing beneath a tree.  I think of hymns that stir my soul.  I think of hugs that have held me when I felt unlovable.  I think of peace that interrupted my anger.  I think of tears that released my pain I was trying to contain.  How do you feel the Spirit?  May that question sit and stir and sing to you this day and throughout the rest of this year.  Amen.

Let Go, Let Be, Let Come Part 3

 

Let go, let be, and let come has been our practice this week.  I wonder, what your experience of this has been so far?  Maybe you didn’t realize all you were carrying ~ no wonder you were gasping and your muscles aching.  Or I often realize that I am trying to hold grains of sand while all of life feels like it is slipping away.  Or maybe you’ve found this practice too simplistic.  We all dance to the blues of “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen/felt/held”.  You are right.  No one has seen or felt or lived your life.  No one knows exactly how you feel, and no one can walk a mile in your shoes.  At the same time, all people experience pain.  To be sure, we love to be the judge and jury, telling someone that their pain isn’t as bad as our pain.  That day, they stubbed their toe?  Well, I broke my tooth, got yelled at by my boss, and my pet goat ran away.  One feature of being human is suffering, but we often do so in isolation.  We often think that Jesus suffered alone.  But in John’s gospel, we are told that the beloved disciple and the courageous/fiercely faithful women stood at the foot of the cross, unwilling to let Jesus die alone.  Today, I want to invite you to share a pain you are carrying with others.  I know this is vulnerable because it will open you to that well-meaning, loving person telling you what to do or sharing their own pain as if it were some competition.  We need to be careful.  You can come talk to me, and I promise not to do that.  To share pain is to share your life.  To speak aloud what we tightly grasp is to open space for the Spirit to move.  I pray that in sharing, speaking aloud that which you have been holding in the cramped, confining space of your fist might help you let go, let be, and let come a Spirit that longs to work in your life and mine.  Amen.

Let Go, Let Be, Let Come Part 2

 

Yesterday, we prayerfully played with the idea of letting go, letting be, and letting come.  This cuts against the grain of the gospels of the world, where we are to be in charge and control.  During Holy Week, I introduced you to Hartmut Rosa, who says that we cannot manifest everything in our lives.  Yes, you can plot, plan, and put together a vision board, but in the boat of your life, the wind will blow without your permission.  We are continually told that we have great power.  That is true, I can decide what to eat, wear, live, write in these morning meditations, when to speak up, and when to stay silent, when to show up, and when to binge-watch something on the internet.  I have a choice.  But I don’t control the weather or whether people respond positively or negatively to this post.  Jesus, God incarnate and in the flesh, followed God’s self-emptying pattern by letting go, letting be, and letting come.  Jesus didn’t exploit his God-given image for his own profit and privilege.  Some today in our culture would think, “What a waste!  He could have been famous and had millions of followers.”  Only Jesus still does compel our hearts, not with force but with faith.  Jesus still “gospels” my life by showing me that the ways of this world will not fill me with the Spirit, but empty me and my wallet in service to the bottom line.  Let go, let be, and let come prayer practice reminds me that I am not the only author of my life.  God co-authors my story and seeks to re-author what I tell myself each day. 

 

Form a fist again.  What did you write down yesterday that annoys you or that you are arguing with?  Is there something new today?  What do you resist (because that will persist in your life) when it comes to the fact that you don’t make the wind blow in the sail of life?

 

Now release your fists to let go, knowing and trusting that whatever the ache or annoyance is, it is still there. Sometimes, when we let go of the grasshopper or cricket, it doesn’t immediately flee or leave but lingers.  When we release, we make space for being curious.  I wonder why I resist that person or situation?  I wonder why I cling to that ache?  I wonder why…fill in the blank with what you are carrying today.  When we let go, that doesn’t mean we give up or throw up our hands, but that we hold lightly and let the light of God’s love into the darkness of our fists.

 

As you open your hand, what else wants space to be there?  Sometimes we think we are clinging to one thing, only to open our hands to discover there were many things we didn’t know were there.  When you open your hand, are you willing to consider the exact opposite thought you’ve been clinging to and carrying around?  That is, if I am holding onto the hurt of some jerk who said something to me, when I release my fist, could it be that this fellow featherless biped might also be angry and lashing out at me because of his own pain?  Remember that great phrase, “Hurting people hurt people.”  When someone else has a fist, of course, they are going to cause pain when they come at you.  What else wants room in your open hand? Could it be the exact opposite of what you assumed was true?

 

Finally, let come.  Just as no word, image, idea, or thought can ever contain or confine God, nor can I tell you what will happen next year, next week, or even later today.  I might have a good idea, but there is an uncontrollability to life that our modern-day gospels resist, reject, and refute continually while trying to sell you something.  Keep prayerfully practicing this letting go, letting be, letting come with your hands and your souls opening to the Spirit.

Let go, let be, let come

 

You don’t achieve liberation through control; you achieve liberation through acceptance. (Note: acceptance doesn’t mean approval or “it’s all good”.  Acceptance is a recognition of reality, pain, our limitations and abilities, the ongoing-ness of God)  Katherine Morgan Shcafler.

 

Brian McLaren writes about how life in the Spirit is a process of letting go, letting be, and letting come.  This is never one and done, but a continual and constant invitation.  This week, I want to encourage you to engage in a prayer practice that invites the Spirit to intercede and interrupt our thinking.  After all, it was my thinking that got me here and may not get me there where God wants me to go.  Sometimes I cannot grow or go because I am carrying too much “stuff” that the Spirit wants me to set down. 

 

What is a situation, person, pain, problem, ache, hurt, frustration, anger, fear, or dis-ease that you are carrying around?  Picture it ~ this might be easier with a person than it is with a general malaise that afflicts and affects many today.  Or maybe your fear is like that monster under your bed of your soul that disappears the moment you flick on the lights to try to see it.  Even when words are inadequate and insufficient, try anyway.  Or draw what you are carrying. 

 

The truth is, we cling to our brokenness, believing that we can, nay, we must, solve it.  And when we cling, we hold tightly to a thousand sharp shards of broken glass; we can be cut again and again. 

 

Imagine holding that thing you just described or drew on the piece of paper.  Make tense, tight fists with both your hands, squeezing that situation, person, or pain.  Maybe squeeze the way that thing is squeezing you. 

 

Let it go: I want you to open your hands.  Feel the blood release and flow freely back through.  Feel the relief of not trying to control and contain.  What would it mean to let go of that which you are holding?  Do you feel irresponsible?  Sometimes I let the gospel of thinking I must save the world be the voice that controls my calendar.  Or I think I can’t let go of that; who would I be if I didn’t have that anger or hurt…I might get hurt again.  Do you hear honest fear in that statement?  Open your hands, knowing that if the pain hops away like a cricket you’ve been holding, you can pick up the pain again if you wish. 

 

Let it be: Hold your hands in the form of a cup, letting that pain be in your hands.  Ponder prayerfully how that ache, problem, dis-ease has been defining you and draining your energy.  Ponder prayerfully and gracefully what you would say to a friend who would be going through something like this.  Would you verbally beat that person up, telling them they are weak or silly?  Probably not!  But my inner critic loves to do this to me.  Hold the heaviness, feel the weightiness in your hands of what you've been grappling with, how many calories you’ve been burning because of that.  Be with your ache, curiously listening to it. 

 

Let it come: Is there something else that wants space and place in your hands, too?  Just as there is only so much I can carry, there is only so much room in my soul.  There is that great ancient wisdom that within our souls there is a wolf and sheep…and the one that wins is the one you feed.  What are you feeding by how you are clinging?  We do not have endless energy, so when we give our breath, life, and attention to that which is draining, what leftovers do we offer to other parts that are more life-giving?  May this prayer practice help you today notice what you are carrying and that you are being carried by the Creator who holds you every moment.  Amen.

Prayers

 

God, thank you for this body that carries me around.  Thank you for the places I’ve been, the people I’ve connected with, the ways You show up in sights, sounds, smells, and the ordinariness of life.  Thank you, even, for people who are like south stars and tell me how I don’t want to be.  Thank you to the people who push buttons because they teach me to be careful with my words.  Thank you to people who are bullies and convict me to keep my core value of letting loose Your love even when others don’t notice.  Thank you for the truth that just as my body keeps making new skin cells and blood flowing and thoughts growing, You are not finished with me or anyone I meet or this world.  Help me participate and part-take in sharing in what You are up to in the world, especially here and now.  In the name of the One who knits us together with grace and love, Jesus the Christ.  Amen.