Statements of Faith

 

“Words are bricks, which, depending on how you use them, can pave pathways or build walls.”  ― Jeff Chu

 

If someone asked you to describe or define your faith, what would you say?  You might start by talking about the God you don’t believe in.  For example, a Divine being who is judgy and “shoulds” on your life or throws lightning bolts or smites people.  You might start by talking about where you show up and speak up in the world.  After all, the United Church of Christ is a branch of the Protestant tree that grew out of protest.  When Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door in Wittenberg against the sale of indulgences, he was offering a protest and proposing a conversation.   Or, when asked about God, you might change the subject to who will win the World Series or your feelings about Pumpkin Spice lattes.

 

Faith can be slippery and subversive, difficult to define or describe.  Faith won’t always stay confined in containers we create.  There are parts of faith that are always mysterious and elusive.  Throughout human history, people of faith have tried to put words on paper about what we believe.  This week, we will dive and dwell in the United Church of Christ’s Statement of Faith.  In the coming weeks, I will introduce you to other statements of faith, because each can bring beautiful ideas to life.  Today, slowly read the words below.  Where do you discover a path being paved to your soul in the words below?  Where do you shake your head, “No,” emphatically because you just don’t agree with the words you read?  Where do you feel confused and want to raise your hand for clarification?  Hold these words, noticing and naming where they land in you:

 

We believe in God, the Eternal Spirit, who is made known to us in Jesus our brother, and to whose deeds we testify:

God calls the worlds into being, creates humankind in the divine image, and sets before us the ways of life and death.

God seeks in holy love to save all people from aimlessness and sin.

God judges all humanity and all nations by that will of righteousness declared through prophets and apostles.

In Jesus Christ, the man of Nazareth, our crucified and risen Lord, God has come to us and shared our common lot, conquering sin and death and reconciling the whole creation to its Creator.

God bestows upon us the Holy Spirit, creating and renewing the church of Jesus Christ, binding in covenant faithful people of all ages, tongues, and races.

God calls us into the church to accept the cost and joy of discipleship, to be servants in the service of the whole human family, to proclaim the gospel to all the world and resist the powers of evil, to share in Christ’s baptism and eat at his table, to join him in his passion and victory.

God promises to all who trust in the gospel forgiveness of sins and fullness of grace, courage in the struggle for justice and peace, the presence of the Holy Spirit in trial and rejoicing, and eternal life in that kingdom which has no end.

Blessing and honor, glory and power be unto God.

Amen.

 

What stirs in you from the above, what feels like sandpaper, and where do you shake your head in confusion?  Let’s sit together in the holy attempts to give expression to how, where, and when we encounter the Eternal in our lives.  Amen.

Prayer with Francis

 

Do few things but do them well, simple joys are holy.  St. Francis of Assisi

Creator of all that was, is, and will be.  For birds that soar, help me listen.  For trees that slowly grow, sinking roots deep while stretching limbs above, help me listen.  For other humans, some who warm my heart and others who are like sandpaper to my soul, help me listen.  Thank you for Francis.  For his love of Your creation.  For his words and wisdom, light and love, for truths that meet us here 800 years later.  Let us continue to be people who strengthen our web of mutuality with all Your living beings.  Let us speak Your peace to those people in wolf clothing, who gnash their teeth.  Let us continue to pause, listen for You before we speak.  And remind us that if we think You are constantly agreeing with us, perhaps we need to clean out the earwax of our soul.  Guide us, connect us, challenge and grow us, shaping us more and more into Your holy image.  In the name of the One who lived as an instrument of Your peace and whom we follow, Jesus the Christ.  Amen.  

Sitting with St. Francis

The deeds you do may be the only sermon some people will hear today.  St. Francis of Assisi

 

What sermon is your life preaching this week?  Ouch, that is a tough question.  In some ways, I am not sure.  Life can be so busy it becomes a blur.  We race and rush from one thing to another, so we don’t pay attention to ourselves or others.  What sermon is your life preaching?  Not just with words, but Francis is clear that how you show up matters.  Do you sigh and roll your eyes at meetings?  I do.  Do you wait on the edge of your seat when someone is talking so you can quickly jump in with your story?  I do.  Do you have your plan for today and ask God to keep up with you?  I do.  Connect the quote from today to the prayer from yesterday.  St. Francis gave us a sermon in his prayer.  Am I preaching peace, love, and hope?   And am I listening to others who do the same, and am I willing to listen to others who are different?  We spend much of our one wild and precious life paying attention to the voices that feel like fingernails on a chalkboard.  Yes, it is important to listen to people we disagree with, but we can also pay attention to people who are living St. Francis’ prayer.  When are we listening to the trees or birds or wind?  St. Francis is the patron saint of animals and ecology.  He is said to have preached to birds.  St. Bonaventure records that sermon as Francis saying, “Oh birds, my brothers and sisters, you have a great obligation to praise your Creator, who clothed you in feathers and gave you wings to fly with, provided you with pure air and cares for you without any worry on your part.”  I love this.  

There is also the story of St. Francis making the sign of the cross on a wolf that had been terrorizing the town of Gubbio.  Here Francis says, “Come here, Brother Wolf.  I command you on behalf of Christ that you do no harm to me or anyone.”  The wolf closed his mouth and became meek as a lamb nestling at Francis’ feet.  In that story, I hear Isaiah’s vision of the peaceable kin-dom (Isaiah 11).  Our sermons need not only preach to people, but also live in harmony with all creation.  What sermon is your life preaching today?  Are you listening to your own life?  I pray today for God to open your heart, ears, eyes, and whole presence for the movement of the Holy.  Amen.

 

Sitting with St. Francis

 

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love,
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
To be loved, as to love. St. Francis of Assisi

 

This is one of St. Francis’ most famous quote/prayers.  I am struck by that first line: am I really an instrument of God’s peace, or am I a loud, crashing cymbal just trying to get more likes on social media?  Do I sow love or hate?  Do I practice forgiveness or lug grudges around in the backpack of life?  Do I give in to criticism and cynicism and pointing out where everything is wrong, or do I also notice and name the goodness and God-ness of the world?  Do I join the arguing and bullying, or do I offer light, love, curiosity, and care to a broken world?  To be sure, St. Francis’ prayer can lead us to dualism, where we think it is either/or.  That we must always be pardoning, faithful, loving, joyful, shiny happy people holding hands all the time.  This would be difficult and might lead us to think it is only up to us.  The point of a prayer isn’t that this prayer is a to-do for us to check off, but an invitation for God to infuse and inspire our living.  Prayer is about setting our intention for the direction our energy will flow.  Prayer is opening my ears/heart/life to God’s vision of what could be in this world.  I don’t think I will ever cross off and accomplish living this way.  I don’t think I will ever cross the finish line of always and forever embodying this prayer.  Yet, this prayer gives me a different way to live.  St. Francis isn’t interested in our beliefs or how well we know the Bible; St. Francis wants us to live our faith in the world.  From how we offer our time/talent/treasure to how we let God guide our energy to embody the words above.  I love that St. Francis’ prayer allows room for diversity within unity.  The way you share and show faith can be different from me, but together (with God’s grace) there is harmony.  You could pray these words every day and never exhaust what they mean, because life is constantly changing and offering us new ways of sowing God’s love where we are and with the people we meet.  So may you and I find ways to let this prayer awaken our minds and energize our souls in such a time as this.  Amen. 

Sitting with St. Francis

 

Lord, help me to live this day, quietly, easily. To lean upon Thy great strength, trustfully, restfully. To wait for the unfolding of Thy will, patiently, serenely. To meet others, peacefully, joyously. To face tomorrow, confidently, courageously. St. Francis of Assisi

 

I invite you to re-read this quote several times.  Which word(s) do you emphasize above?  Read the quote aloud: where do the words strangely warm your heart, and which words are like sandpaper to your soul?  For example, I love the idea of a day that is quiet and easy.  That sounds good.  I delight in the image of relying on God for strength and rest.  And then, that third sentence lands with a thud in my soul.  To wait on God’s will, wait…what?  Does that mean God isn’t on my timetable and in line with my agenda?  Does that mean that I may not know what is best all the time?  This rubs against the gospel of the world that says you deserve to have it your way, and not only when you are at Burger King.  You deserve to have your needs met right now with a 100 percent money-back guarantee. 

 

Recently I saw a Peanuts cartoon that is sticking with me.  Charlie Brown walks up to Snoopy, who is typing on a typewriter (so quaint to remember a typewriter).  Charlie asks Snoopy what he is writing, and Snoopy replies, a book of theology.  For me, this makes perfect sense; dog is God spelled backwards.  But Charlie is aghast: what could a dog know about theology!  And Charlie asks what the title is, and Snoopy replies, “Has it ever occurred to you that you might be wrong?”  That is a good theology title and a good reminder of faith.  I don’t know what I don’t know, but that often doesn’t stop me from quickly forming and sharing an opinion.  To wait on God for God’s wisdom.  And to seek out God’s wisdom. 

 

What would it mean to not just lean on God’s great strength (as if God were there to give you motivation to do your will), but to trust in God for God’s will?  What if our strength, then, was to show up in the world as God’s peace, joy, hope, and love each day? 

 

Ponder this quote as a doorway to our still-speaking God at work in our lives each day.  Amen.

Sitting Down with St. Francis

 

Remember that when you leave this earth, you can take with you nothing that you have received ~ only what you have given: a full heart, enriched by honest service, love, sacrifice, and courage.  St. Francis of Assisi

 

Francis of Assisi was born in Italy to a wealthy family.  His father was a silk merchant, and his mother was a French noblewoman.  By most accounts, he was an affluent young adult who loved bright clothing and the pleasures of life.  The story goes that Francis’ world was turned upside down when, sitting at his father’s booth in the marketplace selling cloth, he saw a beggar asking for alms.  Francis is said to have abandoned his station at the shop and ran after the beggar, giving away all his money.  His friends mocked him, and his father was outraged by leaving valuable merchandise to thieves.  During a year of military service, he was taken prisoner and held captive.  In captivity, he fell ill, which caused him to think about his life.  Often our mortality reminds us of our vulnerability, opening us to God.  Francis continued to have spiritual experiences that led him to loosen his grip on wealth as material items lost their allure.  As the mystics say, all that glimmers is not gold.   This year, 2026, marks 800 years since St. Francis’ death.  This week, I will share a few of my favorite quotes from St. Francis, inviting you to let his wisdom sink and sing to your soul.

 

Like Francis, we all have a money autobiography.  Maybe you, like Francis, came from a family that was well-off, or maybe you came from a working-class family that barely had two dimes to rub together.  I came from a family where money was tight, hand-me-downs were normal, and going out to eat was a special occasion.  My material grandmother, a daughter of the Depression, would wash out bread bags to reuse (for what I don’t remember), and we had a collection of twist ties.  Why?  I don’t know.  Iowa frugality is an art form that has left an impression on my soul.  Moreover, being a pastor is not exactly the way to be featured on lifestyles of the rich and famous (there is a throwback to an old television show!).  Each of us has a story about money written in our hearts, and that guides our lives.  In our diverse church, those stories can sometimes come into conflict with each other, because we only know what we know.  If you have always had things work out financially, that leads you to one perspective.  If you have had to scratch and claw your way through life and worry about running out of money, that leads you to another.  Even more interesting is that two people can come from similar financial status, but land in differing, even conflicting, perspectives.  For some, not having money leads to clinging, or others to generosity.  Money contributes to the story we tell about ourselves to the world.

 

Yet, St. Francis is right, as the cliché goes, “You never see a hearse with a U-Haul trailer behind it.”  Life is not what we take with us, but what we can offer/share while we are here.  As someone who presides at a lot of funerals, I can tell you that the balance of someone’s bank account is rarely mentioned in the eulogy.  Yet, culture wants you to keep building your resume even after retirement.  Today, I invite you to think about the ways money has left an impression on your soul.  How do you see money?  Do you see it as a “necessary evil”?  As a tool?  As a fire that you need to tend but can burn you if not careful?  Where did that view come from?  Who else has contributed/edited the story you tell about money – could be your parents or a boss you had, or a class you took in college?  How does our current economic tension- where inflation, increasing cost of war, national debt, and the rollercoaster stock market all mix into an intoxicating drink we all sip from?  Listen to St. Francis’ wisdom to ponder what is in the cardboard boxes of your soul marked, “My Story with Money”.  Amen.

Prayer

 

Creator of all that is, of trees that tower, birds that soar, clouds that sail, and waves that rhythmically wash on the shore, connect me to the symphony of this world.  Open my ears to hear the wisdom You have woven into the beauty of earth.  Open my mind to explore and discuss the truths from brother sun and sister moon.  Open my heart to the waves and grass that laughingly tickle my toes with delight.  God of all seasons, even in Florida, where the changes are subtle and slight, where humidity still hangs in the air, as other parts of the country start to cool off, let me be open to You.  Help me connect to this plot and place I call home.  Help me be a good and loving partner to this land.  For the goodness of a carrot and apple, for the beauty of a sunset, for the reminder of storms that I am not in control of or in charge of, and for Your creation that reorders, refreshes, renews, and reminds me morning by morning of Your mercy, love, care, and presence.  God of all, to You we sing with creation our hymn of praise.  Alleluia and Amen. 

Creation is Preaching

 

Today, pray with me, slowly savoring each syllable of the beautiful Psalm 19 ~ a hymn of creation and our holy connection to all that is ~

 

The heavens are telling the glory of God,
    and the firmament proclaims God’s handiwork.
² Day to day pours forth speech,
    and night to night declares knowledge.
³ There is no speech, nor are there words;
    their voice is not heard;
⁴ yet their voice goes out through all the earth
    and their words to the end of the world.

In the heavens he has set a tent for the sun,
⁵ which comes out like a bridegroom from his wedding canopy,
    and like a strong man runs its course with joy.
⁶ Its rising is from the end of the heavens
    and its circuit to the end of them,
    and nothing is hid from its heat.

⁷ The law of the Lord is perfect,
    reviving the soul;
the decrees of the Lord are sure,
    making wise the simple;
⁸ the precepts of the Lord are right,
    rejoicing the heart;
the commandment of the Lord is clear,
    enlightening the eyes;
⁹ the awe of the Lord is pure,
    enduring forever;
the ordinances of the Lord are true
    and righteous altogether.
¹⁰ More to be desired are they than gold,
    even much fine gold;
sweeter also than honey
    and drippings of the honeycomb.

¹¹ Moreover, by them is your servant warned;
    in keeping them there is great reward.
¹² But who can detect one’s own errors?
    Clear me from hidden faults.
¹³ Keep back your servant also from the insolent;
    do not let them have dominion over me.
Then I shall be blameless
    and innocent of great transgression.

¹⁴ Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
    be acceptable to you,
    O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

 

Which word/phrase above leapt off the screen for you?  Is there a word/phrase above that confused or confounded you?  Was there a word/phrase that felt like sandpaper/fig leaf to your skin and soul?  What is the sunlight trying to teach you?  How might night be telling you something you need to hear?  How does creation reveal God’s wisdom?  I pray that as you ponder this psalm, you might sense God’s love enfolding and holding you.  May the words of your mouth and the meditations/thoughts/encounters of your heart this day be aligned and alive to God’s presence in/through/with all things ~ including your one wild and precious life.  Amen.

Creation is Preaching

 

Coming alive means that we are showing up.  We are awake to our own bodies and desires, to other people, to beauty, to grief, to joy, and to the ordinary altar of encountering God now. We are not numb and amused and only able to talk about shows or TikToks and settling for (ChatGPT’s) answers to our deepest questions.  Sarah Bessey

 

One of the many reasons we step outside the air-conditioned homes is to let all our senses come awake and alive.  Outside the walls of our homes, there are sights, sounds, smells, feels, textures, and tastes that our controlled environments mute or entirely block out.  Creation enlivens us because it awakens us.  We don’t need to climb Mount Everest to feel awake and alive.  We do need to be intentional.  When you stroll to your mailbox today, what is in the air you inhale?? What do you hear, see, sense?  A simple trip outside to collect what usually goes right in the recycle bin can be a spiritual practice.  A simple walk around the block can be a pilgrimage to another world if we notice the new color on our neighbors' plants or how the cloud above our heads looks like a sailboat.  We notice not only what is outside of us, but also what is inside.  How our body responds to the warmth of the sun, how a cool/cold cup of water after being outdoors is essential, how we feel more at home in ourselves when we soak in the symphony of the world around us ~ a symphony in which we are at once an audience member and active participant at the same time.  We both listen to and sing with creation, God’s music of the spheres.  We absorb and respond.  How might we encounter the altar of God’s world, the church/cathedral of creation, as one way to worship the Creator?  May you and I discover new ways to connect with birds, grass, soil, trees, and life that is evolving around and within today.  Amen.

Creation is Preaching

 

Creation is one giant symphony of mutual sympathy ~ John Duns Scotus

 

Creation is continually singing and serenading us, but when do we slow down to pay attention?  Creation is continually ministering to us, but when do we receive the offering openly?  And, before this starts to sound like I am waxing poetically, let’s admit that nature is messy, scary, uncontrollable ~ even as we pave over paradise or see creation only as a backdrop/scenery for our social media post.  Creation, like humans, is a mixture of beauty and brokenness.  To be in relationship with creation is to be connected to our Creator.  Genesis 3 tells us our initial home was in a garden where our ancestors were called/given the job to tend and till, be stewards of the soil as the way to steward their souls.  And because at the heart of any relationship is mutuality and free will, God gives us the power to decide how or if we will connect with creation.  Our ancestors chose to eat the fruit from the very tree God instructed to avoid.  This is less about “original sin” and more about our very human nature.  When left to our own agendas, we often select the option which promises us power, fame, or fortune rather than relationships.  Genesis didn’t have to literally happen to be true, because we keep plucking from the earth to feed our own agendas rather than live in relationship with the goodness of God.  We keep gathering more manna than we need, even though it spoils our very souls not to share with those who have not.  I love how our ancestors in Genesis 3, after they eat the fruit, put on fig leaves, which is like wearing sandpaper!  Ouch!  Yet, this is what we keep doing to ourselves.  We keep clothing ourselves with that which we think will protect or provide, even as it scratches our very souls.  And when God comes strolling in the garden, our ancestors hid. Hid from God, which I still do.  I hide from God through busyness and work and running around.  I am like a squirrel that drank 10 cups of coffee (there is an image for you).  And God asks, not with judgment or wagging an angry finger, but with genuine curiosity, “Where are you?”  Where are you today?  You can answer that literally/physically: where are you?  You can answer emotionally: where are you?  You can respond spiritually: where are you?  Where are you hiding, and where have you put on the metaphorical fig leaf that you think will shelter and shield you from the slings and arrows of this harsh/hard world?  Where are you?  Go outside under the shade of a tree, and ponder where you are…and how God, our Creator, meets you right there in that moment.  Amen.

 

Creation is Preaching

 

Here is the vast, savage, hovering mother of ours, Nature, lying all around, with such beauty, and such affection for her children, as the leopard, and yet we are so early weaned from her breast to society, to that culture which is exclusively an interaction of (hu)man to (hu)man.  Henry David Thoreau, 1862.

 

September is Creation Justice Month, when we honor that the etymology of the word human is from humus ~ or earthling/earth being.  Genesis 2 tells of how God forms, fashions a mud being and breathes the breath of life into the soil ~ this is our first ancestor.  Creation itself was God’s first act/testimony/witness of goodness and creativity.  Creation is central in scripture.  Think of God’s guidance in Psalm 23 ~ God leading us beside the still/refreshing/renew waters to the deepest valleys to the lush green fields where a picnic has been set up.  Or Psalm 8 that says, “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established, what are humans (mud/dust beings) that you are mindful of them (us), mortals that you care for them (us)?”  Creation is central to Elijah on Mount Horeb (1 Kings 19), where God comes in the stillness/whisper of a breeze after the fire and windstorms.  Creation was woven into Jesus’ ministry when he pointed to lilies of the field.  Jesus preached in the open-air cathedral of creation.  Jesus was transfigured on a mountain.  I don’t think it is a coincidence that Jesus appeared to Mary in a garden on Easter morning, echoing the Garden of Eden.

 

And yet, as Thoreau says, we have become disconnected (weaned) from our relationship with the earth.  We hover/huddle in our homes with electric lights buzzing.  We are glued to our devices, trying to get one more level in whatever game we are playing.  To go outside is an act of resistance and reconnection to the source of life and to the One who creates all that was/is/will be.  Today, I invite you to go outside.  You don’t have to do this for hours; you don’t have to go for a hike on a mountain (which is hard to do in Florida).  You don’t have to stay outside all day.  A few minutes of standing alongside creation as the sun rises or sets today.  Two minutes of closing your eyes and listening to the birds’ squawking and singing.  One minute to reach out and touch a tree or leaf, which reminds us of our own slow ripening of our soul.  Photosynthesis happens in our bodies, like plants, when we absorb vitamin D.  Even if you go to the window and gaze out, this is a holy/prayerful moment.  Disconnecting from our devices and from other humans for a while reminds us that humans are not at the center of the world; there is a whole creation that is spinning, scurrying, and surviving without you.  Mysteriously, when we gaze/absorb creation, we realize deep in our bones/souls/with every breath that we are connected.  What we do impacts the wildlife around us.  Connect with creation today and, in doing so, connect back to who and whose you are.  Amen.

Prayer for Today

 O God, our help in ages past and our hope for this day and countless days to come.  We sing with the ancestors that we’ve come this far by faith.  We know that the road can be rough, rugged, and dangerous.  We’ve twisted ankles and souls; we've encountered hurting people in the ditches of life like the Good Samaritan, and we are constantly questioning, “What are you up to, God, and what would You have me do?”  Thank you that the call to ministry is not just for those with framed pieces of paper; we are all called, blessed, and sent into the world through baptism.  We are all partners, co-laborers, and singers in the choir of Your composition.  Yet, God, honestly, we like the spotlight and want to be picked for the solo.  We want to be needed and necessary.  We hold in our hearts today all who were impacted on this day, especially those in the Twin Towers, Pentagon, fields of PA, and on planes.  Those in New York City, DC, and across our country, for the sting of pain is real today.  Too often, remembering can be conflated with not forgetting, rather than an active way to see how the past shapes the present.  How violence begets violence, even among us who claim Your love as central.  How we stand divided by politics in addition to economics, gender, race, identity, sexual orientation, where we live, and how we show up.  God, we are not the “we” You call/craft/create us to be.  Help us, God not just claim our faith, but live the light of Your presence each day.  Surround, support, sustain, and send us into our neighbors and communities to be Your people here and now.  Amen. 

25 Years in the Making

 

Yesterday, I shared a hymn we sang at my ordination 25-years ago.  Today, I want to share another hymn, more recent, that has captured my imagination.  The Summons was written by John Bell as part of the Iona Community in Scotland.  Please join me in praying these words today:

 

Will you come and follow me if I but call your name?

Will you go where you don’t know and never be the same?

Will you let my love be shown, will you let my name be known,

Will you let my life be grown in you and you in me?

 

Will you leave yourself behind if I but call your name?

Will you care for cruel and kind and never be the same?

Will you risk the hostile stare should your life attract or scare?

Will you let me answer prayer in you and you in me?

 

Will you let the blinded see if I but call your name?

Will you set the prisoners free and never be the same?

Will you kiss the leper clean and do such as this unseen,

And admit to what I mean in you and you in me?

 

Will you love the “you” you hide if I but call your name?

Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same?

Will you use the faith you’ve found to reshape the world around

Through my sight and touch and sound in you and you in me?

 

Lord, your summons echoes true when I but call your name!

Let me turn and follow you and never be the same.

In your company I’ll go where your love and footsteps show.

Thus I’ll move and live and grow in you and you in me.

 

I love the invitational nature of this hymn.  It starts with a series of questions about letting Christ guide our lives, lead us to places beyond our comfort/complacency, and to interact with people who challenge us.  This reminds us that faith is not about coercion or convincing someone else to join our club.  Faith continually expands, evolves, and embraces.  Is there one of the invitational questions above that set your soul soaring?  Which of the questions did your soul say, “Um, that’s a hard pass and an emphatic, “No” on that one.  Thanks, but no thanks, Jesus.”  Which question landed with a thud in your heart, soul, and life?  I know for me it is the question, “Will you love the “you” you hide if I but call your name?  Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same?”  Something about those two lines stops me short.  Will I let Christ’s love do something in me, through me, with me, and despite me?  Or is my Iowa stubbornness too thick, my to-do list too consuming?  Do I tell God to take a break, because I’ve got it from here?   Hold this hymn, for I am holding and praying these words with you today.  With God’s love. Amen.

25 Years in the Making

 

One of the moments from my ordination service that hums in my soul, hovers in my heart, and guides my ministry each day is the hymn, “Won’t You Let Me Be Your Servant”.  Slowly pray these words with me:

 

Won’t you let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you?  Pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant, too.

 

We are pilgrims on a journey; we are travelers on the road; we are here to help each other go the mile and bear the load.

 

I will hold the Christ-light for you in the shadow of your fear; I will hold my hand out to you, speak the peace you long to hear.

 

I will weep when you are weeping; when you laugh, I’ll laugh with you.  I will share your joy and sorrow till we’ve seen this journey through.

 

When we sing to God in heaven, we shall find such harmony, born of all we’ve known together of Christ’s love and agony.

 

25-years later, these words still sing and swirl, awakening my sacred imagination.  The first verse reminds me of the relational/reciprocal nature of ministry.  We seek to serve each other ~ not out of obligation or oppression, but because we follow One who washed the feet of his disciples.  The second verse reminds us that the journey of faith is not undertaken as isolated individuals but as a community. The third and fourth verses seek to explore and explain what it means to be community ~ meeting each person where s/he/they are, not as we want them to be.  A few years ago, our church claimed and celebrated that “Faithfulness” is a core value.  Faithfulness, like discipleship, is growing in the image of Christ for the sake of the other.  I grow in God’s love not for myself, although being grounded and guided by God is a blessing.  Rather, God’s love longs to escape through me in ways I cannot control or even comprehend.  The fifth verse invites us back to a Christ-infused and inspired life ~ Christ who knew the fullness of humanness ~ from birth, life, death, and new life.  The more we engage Christ's wisdom, the more we are called to participate in the Way of Jesus.  Often the hymn repeats verse 1 at the end, circling back to the truth of our call to service with others for the sake of the world God loves.  Hold this hymn with me, for I hold and pray these words with you today.  With God’s love.  Amen.

25 Years in the Making

 

We live our lives in the meantime, the in-between time, the luminous liminal time of things ending and beginning.  On the day after my ordination, on the day before September 11^th, on September 10^th, I remember we had dinner with friends from the church.  We laughed; we shared stories about the past and excitement for the future.  Gina and I were moving out to New Hampshire to serve my first congregation.  I was excited and scared.  Excited to share all this knowledge I had, but scared because there was so much I didn’t know how to do on my own.  Sure, I had led worship, but not every week!  Sure, I had helped with funerals and weddings at my internship, but never by myself!  Sure, I had visited people and prayed with them, but now I had this title, “Reverend” (and don’t forget about that piece of paper in a frame I could hang on my wall to show the world I was legit).  It felt like I was 16 and given the keys to my parents’ car.   

 

After 25 years, there are quite a few dents, scratches, and accidents my car of ministry has been through.  My ministry car has a bumper with so much duct tape that it is hanging on for dear life; the mileage in my car of ministry increases every day, the tires are worn and have been replaced, and the engine doesn’t vroom or zoom the way it once did.  Yet, the scenery is never the same.  Each day holds new adventures that are not on my agenda.  Ministry is lived neither here nor there.  In the meantime, the in-between time, the liminal time of grieving what was and trying to anticipate what will be, is at once both the greatest joy and deepest demand of ministry. 

 

Where in your life are you living in the meantime, the in-between time ~ something new that has begun and something from the past that you still carry?  Where do you feel like something is not what it once was but not quite what it could be?  That question covers a lot of my life, not just the last 25-years.  I am not the same person who was ordained in Iowa 25-years ago.  I am not the same person who shoveled snow in Wisconsin.  I am not the same person who preached his first sermon out in New Hampshire.  As you ponder the past this week approaching Friday, 9-11, consider the moves you’ve made, the leaps of faith you’ve taken, and the slow, steady, turtle-like progress you’ve embarked upon over the last 25 years.  What has shifted, what is shifting, what do you pray to God never shifts or changes?  Hold these questions and the mystery that is your one wild and precious life.

25 Years in the Making

 

On September 9, 2001, I was ordained as a minister at Urbandale United Church of Christ in Iowa.  I still have a photo of Gina and me at the front of the church after the worship service.  After 25 years of ministry, I still remember the messy mixture of confidence and confusion stirring within me on that day.  Confidence because I now had a piece of paper conferring on me the degree, “A Master of Divinity.” Looking back now, I laugh at the absurdity of that document.  How in the world do you ever “master” Divinity?  You don’t!  I can’t.  No matter how many books I read, papers I write, sermons I preach, pastoral care visits I do, hands I hold, or vigils for justice I attend, I don’t master anything.  Isaiah was right, “For my thoughts are not Your thoughts, O God, neither are my ways Your ways” (Isaiah 55:8-9).  There is an honest confession there that is echoed in the Lord’s Prayer when Jesus says, “Thy/God’s will be done”.  As Richard Rohr says when Jesus prays, “Thy Kin-dom/realm/reality come ~ that means my kin-dom/realm/ and reality has to go!”  The Psalmist echoes and amplifies this by praying, “When I look to the macro-skies, dark and enormous, your handmade sky-jewelry, moon and stars mounted in their settings.  Then I look at my micro-self and wonder, why do You, God, bother with us?  Why take a second look our way?”  The more I’ve learned over the last 25 years of ministry, the less I know.  The more I want to hand back that piece of paper and sheepishly say, “Um, there has been some mistake here.”  There are days I wonder if I will ever complete the class called, “Ministry,” because the church is always changing, even though we sit in the same pew and try to frost over the shifting sands of the world with the same format of worship each Sunday.  The church is always changing, but like shedding skin cells, which we do each day, we don’t notice the new things God is doing.  The church is always changing, and too often we miss this amid “Robert’s Rules of Order” and voting on motions to help us feel in control.  God offers us the Wayless Way that doesn’t neatly fit into what our structured, stability-craving selves believe we want/need to thrive.

 

Two days after my ordination, our country experienced the violence, heartbreak, and deaths of 9-11.  The wars in Afghanistan and Iraq followed, alongside encouragement from our government to get out and spend money ~ because consumerism is the altar we are constantly called to worship at.  The financial crash of 2008, the politics of division and dismissing the “other” as dangerous to our country, declining membership of the mainline church, the COVID pandemic (which seminary really didn’t teach me how to lead!), and now we wrestle with faithfulness in a world that disorients us at a dizzying and disheartening pace. 

 

One of the earliest images of the church was a boat.  In fact, if you look at the ceiling of our church, with its peaked roof, it looks like a boat turned upside down.  The church was to be a safe space, not to disconnect from or deny the storms roaring outside, but to dry off, sing, support, and practice God’s love with each other.  You will hear a lot this week about 25-years since 9-11.  We will remember when and where we were when we heard the news and witnessed the heartbreaking images of the gray smoke billowing against the blue sky.  We will hear stories of family and friends who are still grieving loved ones who died in the planes, towers, and acts of terrorism ~ as well as the war that was started in the aftermath.  When we look back, it is always an invitation to look around ~ the past is always part of the present.  So ponder where you were living in 2001.  What were you doing on September 11^th?  How have the last twenty-five years left an impression on your soul that you are still trying to sort through prayerfully and with God’s love?  May this week offer us fresh insights and true experiences of God’s love we need in these days.  Amen.  

The Beauty of the Ordinary Prayer

 

Guide me, O my great Redeemer, who holds my loves, longings, and losses.  Guide me, O my great Sustainer, who gives me strength each second of each day.  Guide me, O my great Creator, who isn’t finished with me yet.  Guide us, O God, for I am not some isolated individual on an island.  The “me” who stares from the mirror is a combination and conglomeration of places, people, events, and experiences.  I create stories, sometimes wildly creative fiction, about who You are, God, who others are and why they are such meanies, and who I am.  Sometimes I am the hero, sometimes I feel like a zero, and sometimes I just want to nap on a pillow.  I confess that I get frustrated when others won’t be who I want them to be, even as I notice that I am not the me I want to be either.  God, I get so confused by You.  Your ways are not my ways.  You are not some puppy I train, but the One whose presence makes all the difference.  I offer this prayer with equal parts exhaustion, exhilaration, and exasperation for the beauty of this ordinary life.  Take today like a lump of Play-Doh that I let You guide me- heart, hands, and head in collaborating with You to create something beautiful for the world through me.  Amen. 

The Beauty of Ordinary

 

Please pray with me…slowly, savoring each syllable…Psalm 139 from the Message:

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!

 

(Pause, breathe, and ponder which word/phrase/image captures your heart.)

 

Is there anyplace I can go to avoid your Spirit?
    to be out of your sight?
If I climb to the sky, you’re there!
    If I go underground, you’re there!
If I flew on morning’s wings
    to the far western horizon,
You’d find me in a minute—
    you’re already there waiting!
Then I said to myself, “Oh, he even sees me in the dark!
    At night I’m immersed in the light!”
It’s a fact: darkness isn’t dark to you;
    night and day, darkness and light, they’re all the same to you.

 

(Pause, breathe, and ponder which word/phrase/image captures your heart.)

 

Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
    you formed me in my mother’s womb.
I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking!
    Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
    I worship in adoration—what a creation!
You know me inside and out,
    you know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
    how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
    all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
    before I’d even lived one day.

(Pause, breathe, and ponder which word/phrase/image captures your heart.)

 

Your thoughts—how rare, how beautiful!
    God, I’ll never comprehend them!
I couldn’t even begin to count them—
    any more than I could count the sand of the sea.
Oh, let me rise in the morning and live always with you!
    And please, God, do away with wickedness for good!
And you murderers—out of here!—
    all the men and women who belittle you, God,
    infatuated with cheap god-imitations.
See how I hate those who hate you, God,
    see how I loathe all this godless arrogance;
I hate it with pure, unadulterated hatred.
    Your enemies are my enemies!

 

(Pause, breathe, and ponder which word/phrase/image captures your heart.)

 

Investigate my life, O God,
    find out everything about me;
Cross-examine and test me,
    get a clear picture of what I’m about;
See for yourself whether I’ve done anything wrong—
    then guide me on the road to eternal life.

 

How might God guide you lovingly this day?  Amen.

The Beauty of Ordinary

 

Gordon MacDonald once wrote about how churches should have X-ray machines for your soul when you walk in for worship.  But unlike the TSA, we are not searching for weapons or what is dangerous, but rather we want to know what is in our soul.  Church as a space to go into those cobwebbed corners in our lives that most of us don’t dare to step into most of the time.  Unfortunately, the church, with our love of words, doesn’t give you much space or a place to pray your high, low, and just so-so of life.  We fill every second of worship with some sound or song, lest you become bored.  We jam more content in and then offer you a Morning Meditation each day so that we can point to being productive (eek! that hits close to home!).  The X-ray machine MacDonald imagined wasn’t for judgment or to rain down guilt, but to open space for grace to do its work.  God is not the audience receiving our prayers and praise at worship.  God already knows us fully.  The psalmist says, “Search and know me, God.”  (Psalm 139) because we need God to hold up the mirror to our lives. 

 

What is in your soul today?  There may be clutter from this year or dating back decades.  Maybe it is something fresh and raw that we don’t care to admit and aren’t ready to accept.  Maybe it is a moment of peace sipping tea or stillness at night. 

 

Note: our church will not be installing X-ray machines…I hear you saying, “Thank God!”  Because God already knows us fully and loves us unconditionally.  It is a great lie to think, “God won’t love me if God knew…”  God knows your wounds and wants.  God knows your longings, losses, and loves.  And prayer is a practice of bringing this into the light of affection and acceptance so God might help us process the pain rather than keep passing it along to others. 

 

What is the high, low, and so-so of your soul today?  May this invitation awaken you to the One who is at work here and now.  Amen.

The Beauty of Ordinary

 

Yesterday, I invited you to stay awake, alert, and aware of God as a prayer practice for September.  If taking deep cleansing breaths every hour helps you notice God, keep going.  Or maybe you are pausing before each meal or meeting to notice God is already there.  Another great practice is to write down your high, low, and just so-so.  Start with the high moments: what sparked joy or peace in you?  Maybe a conversation with a friend where you laughed.  Or maybe singing along with a song you hadn’t heard since high school. Next is a low: what drained and dragged your soul down?  Maybe a person who is so creative at getting your pulse to elevate and setting your soul to agitate.  Maybe listening to humans dehumanize each other.  Finally, what was just so-so that day?  Where was the beautiful ordinariness that fills so much of our calendars and lives?

 

I encourage you to write these down for the whole month of September.  Please know that if you miss a day, this is not an assignment for a grade, and this is a “smite-free” invitation.  I would love to talk to you about what you are sensing God is up to in your life.  You may only do this once a week, which is great too.  This prayerful practice, which is a variation of the St. Ignatius’ Examen, is a wonderful way to realign our mind, heart, and soul.  I pray this practice gives you life and lets God’s light reveal and remind you that you are beloved.  Amen.