Hallelujah?

Our church choir did Handel's Messiah this week. There was a note in our program providing a little background information on George Frederic Handel.

It seems "ole Handel" was somewhat "earthy", in fact, someone described him as "a tub of pork and beer". He was not a particularly religious man to begin with, but it was said that he received a spiritual epiphany and that it took him a mere three weeks to compose the whole piece. He did not leave his room during the entire time. His servants must have been disturbed by the fact that he took very little food or drink during the writing. He told a friend that at the time of writing the Hallelujah chorus, it was as if all of heaven opened up to him and he saw God Himself. I am sure those of us who have sung the piece can testify to that probability.

Basking in the afterglow of the performance, I could not help but ponder about it's author. There were surely other composers that were more spiritual and in essence more deserving of the great honor of penning such a work. Bach for one. What if the religious right of his day had deemed his lifestyle a factor in the acceptance of this heart work and had rejected it from publication or performance. What a loss the world would have suffered!

Being in a mainline, declining denomination, I am can't help but be worried about the church as a whole. We can pull out all the bells and whistles, contemporary music, user-friendly services, but until we see and accept people as they are, we will surely perish. The work I do studying His Word and following His disciplines are for naught, if it only serves to swell my head or chest. What is the purpose of what I do if not to clear my heart and soul to be a channel for Him. Is it my choice or His who receives the love He imparts through me? I think His! Is grace something I earned? No! It freely came to me and it must freely pass through me to a hurting humanity.

I must have His eyes to see the pain and His ears to hear the suffering of those around me. I can only do that if I am open to Him. Please let it be. Please let it be me!

Then There WereTwo

Two women greet, only years separate them

Both of their wombs divinely seeded

They embrace; one part joy, the other shame

Their tears speak volumes, no words are needed

The cries of the mothers herald the births

Clothed in crimson robes, babes come into sight

One destined to call men from darkness

The other one to bring them His Light

In a river, two men face each other

Hands of one placed on the other’s brow

One gives, one receives this symbol of grace

Spirit anoints as God’s blessing avowed

See the crowds gathered, once to greet them

Praise turned to jeers, their spittle to adorn

The prophet’s head honored on silver platter

A Prince’s coronation by crown of thorns

Two men, linked by purpose and lineage

Fulfilled God’s plans through different roles

Death tried but failed to contain them

One lives in His Word, the Other our souls

Jo

Pregnant?

Amidst the scurry and flurry of the holiday rush, I had to deal with a questionable report on my yearly check-up. After a series of further testing, it culminated in a "procedure", a very inocuous word for something quite painful.

At the end, I found myself in an ultrasound room, waiting for my specialist. While waiting, I happened to glance at the screen to my left and saw the black and white outline of a fetus. Now the test had not begun, so I knew this was not my uterus on the screen, but for a split second, I had rather a shock. Images started flashing before my eyes of what it might be like to receive that news. You are pregnant! Diapers, baby food, and assorted baby things kept popping in and out of my mind.

The doctor entered the room shortly thereafter and I had gathered my wits enough to jokingly inquire about the monitor. He sheepishly told me that most women having ultrasounds in this room were indeed pregnant, so the reason for the picture. I joked with him, but deep inside I was a bit unsettled. Of course, I did not want a baby in this season of my life, but the very fact that I could not, was a little sad.

Since my focus has been on Mary this Christmas season, I could not help but think of her. Of course, she did not have the benefit of ultrasound, but the slow rounding of her abdomen, the cessation of her menses - all the signs were there. I also thought of Elizabeth. Not unlike myself, in the fact that we were both past our childbearing years, but the evidence was there for her as well. The swelling abdomen and tenderness of her breasts, both signs of something once felt dead, now miraculously alive.

Between the two women, there were a myriad of feelings. Shock, joy, shame, peace, pain. Repeated over and over in their lifetimes as they nurtured, loved, and then watched as their sons followed the paths God had sent them to take. More food for thought. I will get back with you.

Alleluia!

God in a Bottle

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. (Matt 7:8)

As a child I came to think of God, early on, as a sort of genie. He did not live in a bottle but up in the sky. And if I was good enough and said my prayers morning and night, made good grades, and minded my parents - He would grant my wishes.

Now mind you, our family suffered a tragedy when my little brother was severely burned at the age of 6. Odd, but in looking back, I was 9 at the time and I never saw my Genie God at fault. Nor, for that fact, did I see our family as having not asked for the right wishes, nor the subsequent calamity as some type of penance for wrong-doing. As you can see my early theology was not only flawed but inconsistent. :)

As I grew older, my concept of God changed. Thank God - literally! I no longer saw him as this Great Granter of Wishes. I became a little more jaded or wiser, and realized that He was not a genie (I am sure He appreciated that). However, with so much practice, the cloak of people pleasing or, in this case, Deity pleasing was way too comfortable. So I continued to wear it.

As I sit here, 50 something, my viewpoint has changed dramatically. God is not stagnant and neither am I. Ask, seek, find is a process. It is God's never changing desire for my greater good and my gradual metamorphosis into someone who can realize that. God never changes but because of my human myopia, He continues to use life, people, and events to bring me into focus. I, in turn, still have my moments of victories and struggles. Some days I feel I am in the groove, seeking and asking, hungry for His attention and His answers. Other days, not so much.

Sometimes I feel like a mule. Legs apart, daring Him to pull on my reins. I am content to sit and munch oats. Or at other times, I flat out turn around and backtrack. All this to say my asking and seeking has changed for the better. Because I do so with expectancy. I have finally realized that what I am seeking is not always what I think I am seeking. Confused yet? If not let me continue...

For I have just emerged from this Doris Day period "Whatever will be, will be". Picture a kind of head to the brow, reclining me, suffering servant picture. That is the purgatory you live in from time to time when God puts an "under renovation" sign over your theology, to that point. You know that theology. The complete and "never to change" theology. When you have finally figured it all out - HA!

So let's go to the dessert scripture. Which is the whip cream on the top, cherry included....

For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.

Before you get too comfortable, it does not say for everyone who asks receives what they ask for, and they who seek find what they were looking for, and they who knock, the exact door they knocked on will be opened. God is the giver and He is the one to be found and it is His door of choice to open. The closer I grow to Him, the more I know of Him, the greater my love grows for Him. Makes me pretty darn excited to see what He has in store for me next!

I can only imagine the Wise Men entering the home of Mary and Joseph, seeing the object of their journey. Were they amazed, dumbfounded, disappointed? I don't know. But they left their gifts, acknowledging Christ as the One they sought. If they were truly "wise men" they too had figured out the way God works.....

Mary

I have a hard time wrapping my mind around Mary this Christmas. It happens every year. There is just one thing in the Christmas story that I have heard time and again that just sticks out and demands my attention. Mary has become my focal point.

It is amazing! She is to become the mother of the Christ - what a blessing, what an opportunity. But then the gravity of the situation just starts to creep in and you go a little crazy. There is a relatively new Disney film based on the childrens' story of Rapunzel. It is called Tangled and having a 2 year old granddaughter, I have only seen it about 20 times. Now the weird thing about it is that I have enjoyed watching it 20 something times. It is lovely and the music is good and it has a wonderful lesson. In the film, Rapunzel has found someone to take her to the see the "lights" (I will not spoil the story) and she is torn between leaving the tower/disobeying her mother and doing the one thing she has always dreamed of. It is very humorous, but I can almost see Mary in the same situation. Yipee, I am the mother of the Messiah. Ooooh, what will people think! What a miracle, I am having a baby! Hoooowwww am I going to tell Joseph! It could go on and on.

The other thing, that bugs me about Mary was how do you keep something like this a secret. It is hard for me at my age. A young girl the age of Mary. Was alot of divine intervening going on!

She is really a puzzle this Christmas......

Serenity's End

OK, so this is the end of that prayer we were talking about......

That I may be reasonably 

Happy in this life

And supremely happy 

With Him forever in the next.

Amen.............

So how does that work?

Who do you know that has gotten on his hands and knees and asked God for reasonable happiness.  The movie is called "It's a Wonderful Life", not "It's an OK Life".

No one buys a lotto ticket to get a few dollars.  Noooo, you want the 40 million, please.  So what is up with this word reasonably.  Within reason.  Whose reason?  Not my reason.  My reason far exceeds my means in all cases and I want to be rip roaringly happy.  

I once heard a local celebrity talk before a group once.  He said that everything he thought he wanted to achieve, was never enough.  There was one more thing, one more item that would bring that total happiness.  But that next item still left him wanting.

I think in my own life, as I grow wiser, I grow less excited about more.  In fact simplicity is looking more and more attractive. When I was younger and poorer, I used to have one good pair of black slacks or one pair of blue jeans.  I always knew where they were.  I kept up with them because they were all I had.  Now I have a closet full of clothes and I can never find the one piece Iwant.  Why?  Because, individually, they are not that important.  If I lose one, I have another one.  If I can find it.

I look at all the things that are really important to me and I realize when I am gone, they will cease to be important.  Unless there is monetary value, my kids and grandkids will not even realize how important it was to me.  And even if they do, even out of respect for me, it can never mean as much to them as it did to me.

Lusting for the next thing, means the present thing is not what I want.  Reasonably happy is sounding better and better each time I hear it.


And being reasonably happy, makes me peaceful.  Makes me appreciate the now and not pine for the future.  Not see everything in shades of "could have been's" or "what if's".  And if I obtain reasonable happiness, won't heaven in contrast, be blow your socks off, top of the mountain, better than best?  


Yeah!!!!

Over My Shoulder

Talking about Joseph this past Sunday in my class....

Several of us thought the same thing.  What would it be like to be the father of God's son?  After having to get over the shock, anger, and then relief that Mary had not deceived him, the gravity of the situation must have struck Joseph at one point.  In my family alone, there are all sorts of relational issues due to divorce and re-marriage.  I know this is not a good illustration, but bear with me.  A stepfather is stepping into the life of a child that already has a father.  Parenting, good or bad, is on display and at the critique of all parties involved - ranging from in-laws, out-laws, wife, ex's - you name it.   There is a lot of pressure on all parties.

In the case of Joseph, I don't think I would particularly like God looking over my shoulder, evaluating my parenting skills.  Top it off with Holy Mother Mary as wife and the closest thing to perfect for a son.  Whew!
Glad it was him and not me.  But in the next breath, I had another thought. In the same way it was threatening, it had to be comforting as well.  God not only wanted you to do a good job - a vested interest for sure - but He loved you as well.  Mary was chosen and given to you as a helpmate.  And to have Jesus as your child, your Son.  Can you even come close to comprehending the love and respect you would receive from Him?

Then I started thinking about myself.  Many times I feel as if God is looking over my shoulder.  Judging me for what I have failed to do.  Sizing up the opportunities and gifts I feel He has given me and how short I fall.  But why?  Can't I understand that He is not breathing down my neck, but walking by my side.   Protecting me and loving me along the way.  To add to that, He has given me a divine  Holy Spirit GPS system, that can guide me in the way of knowledge and wisdom.  And the cherry on the top?  Jesus completes the picture, interceding for me, putting in a good word for me.  Letting God know the obstacles I face are real because He faced them as well.  

Wow!!  How blessed am I?  And before I start feeling guilty for either taking this for granted or ignoring it completely, I will just stop here, take a deep breath, and  rest in the Holy Power of the Holy Three

Amen and Amen!!

Thanksgiving Day

I have been to my local grocery store 3 times in the last 12 hours.  I never get everything I need in one trip.  Especially for Thanksgiving. 

This morning, I made my first trip for the day @ 7:00 AM.  I added too much milk to the cornbread for my dressing (I don't cook on a regular basis these days) and so I needed  to replace it.  When I was checking out there were a group of young men standing around the cash register.  One slightly older young man was standing behind the one checking and was giving him pointers on how to classify, where to find codes, etc.  I assumed he was like a head cashier.   All of the young men seemed to be taking it in and were fairly respectful. 

It dawned on me that the slightly older, somewhat balding young man was probably in this position as a job choice.  He might continue in this field, work up to store manager one day.  Or he might be satisfied with where he was and continue working jobs of this type.  Limited by intellect, education and opportunity, his options might be somewhat narrow as well.  The other young men looked like high school, perhaps college students and you could tell this was not their dream job.  A paycheck, a means to an end, an appeasement of family to get off the couch and do "something".

Okay, I know this sounds like physical profiling, but give me a minute.  My point is, this  early job experience for the young men was valuable.  Due to a tragic injury to one of my siblings, I started taking a very large role in our household at the age of nine.  At 16 years of age, I worked a 28 hour a week job in addition to high school.  Life for me has been hard work and perseverence.  I have done well in a self-made woman sort of way.  But you see, in doing that I depended on the knowlege of folks along the way - folks that might never move from their position but they gave me what I needed for my journey.   Now my journey is no more important than theirs and to be frank - I probably would not be where I am today without them.  And I pray to God, there might be others that are where they are in life today because I came across their paths.  

Then why do I still find it hard to see that every person I come into contact has a potential to add or influence my life?  Why do I look around for those I might influence or bless?  God chooses the least, the last, the lost and if I am not careful I will miss them and the lessons God has for me through them. 

A forgotten can of mushroom soup, may be the venue He chooses to place you or I in the path of someone or something special He has for us today!  One way to rationalize my failing memory!  LOL

Serenity IV

Trusting that He will make all things right
If I surrender to His Will


And the sky will always be blue and birds will forever sing.

Yeah, right....

Exactly!   That is the word He used - RIGHT!!

So the question is whose right?  His, mine, yours, the majority, the white, the black, words spoken in Spanish, or English words only please.  Right is an odd word.  As an adverb it means to the farthest and complete extent of degree.  As a noun it means morally correct, just, or honorable, the opposite of wrong.  As a verb it means to restore to a normal or upright position.  As an exclamation it is used to denote agreement.  You can also be politically right or conservative.

But it all boils down to MY right!  OK, I said it.  I want to be healed, and my husband's job to be restored, and my nineteen year old unmarried daughter not to be pregnant so she can finish college and make a good living and have all the things I never had or could not provide for her.   And the thing is, if my life is such a mess and I had my eye and thumb on it, how can I possibly surrender it all to Your will, without your express promise you will make it right?  Promise?

If we leave it to Him, there is no promise of healing, or a new job, or miraculously that the 19 year old will not be in a delivery room in 8 months or so.  But I can tell you it is all bound up in those words SURRENDER & TRUST & WILL.  Right becomes a balance, a harmony.  Maybe tentative and sometimes dissonant, but it is there and He is the master who writes - pardon me - rights the score, trusting that I will place myself in His will.  Surrendering to the Song.......

Serenity - Part 3 "Ohmmmmm"

I left you hanging, I know.....

That is the thing about these blogs.  Life interrupted I call it. Funny, but when there is a long pause I kind of wonder about the author.  Like when you haven't heard from a good friend.  Are they sick, on a trip, tired of writing, etc.  Well, I guess for me it was a little of all, but enough of that....

I was dissecting the Serenity Prayer, the full version.   To recap:


God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
As it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
If I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
And supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

So the focus of this post is


Taking, as He did, this sinful world
As it is, not as I would have it;


Now your first response to this would be, "No way - He came to save this world!"
But you see, He came to save those in this world.   When He was born these many years ago, there was a Roman occupation of the Jewish homeland.  When He left, there was still a Roman occupation of the Jewish homeland.  He did not abolish sin, or slay the wicked, or bring the literal heaven to earth.  He did not take an opinion poll and ask folks the way they ought to see things run or how they wanted to live.  No - He came to set us free.  Freedom from sin and death, but only if we choose it.  But you see, he did not come in a way that was easy for men and women to see.  He was not born into a proper family, heck he was born in a stable.  He did not live in the best neighborhood, he lived in Nazareth - nothing good comes from Nazareth!  He was a carpenter by trade and an intinerant preacher after that.   He was ultimately accused of blasphemy and sedition and died a criminal's death on a cross between two thieves.  He was not free financially, socially, and in the end even bodily, but He did all that so we would be free.

So where do I get the idea that I know how things work.  How folks should act and react.  Can I realize that not everyone operates on the same Holy Spirit system?  But that does not mean I love them any less.  And those that have the same internal, make that eternal navigation system are not always going to operate the same way I do?  And the best is yet to come.......

At Mary's Breast

At Mary's Breast.....

I am using the book/DVD The Journey: Walking the Road to Bethlehem by Adam Hamilton, in my Sunday School class for Advent. Just started, but I am enjoying it and hope my classe will as well.

The first chapter is on Mary, and in preparing, I came across the following sentence....

"When Mary finally gave birth to Jesus and suckled him, the Son of God was fed and sustained by the milk from her breasts."

Now I know that is totally natural and in Mary's day and age the most probable means of feeding a newborn infant, but I had not really thought about it. I had tried to imagine giving birth in a stable, with the only means of support her husband (don't get me started on that) but I had not really focused on the actual suckling of the newborn King.

I remember being a young mother and breast-feeding. I was not overly confident or fond of the mechanics. It was somewhat difficult, but I loved the closeness I felt to my daughter. To sit there, knowing that she was taking from me and that what I was giving was literally life-giving. In reflecting now, I realized there was no way, at that young age, I had any idea how beautiful that experience would come to be. What I am writing, at this moment, comes not only from that experience but also from the knowlege of her life and the woman she has grown be. To see her with her children and to know that all of that began out of my body. I am sure a few years from now, her birth and the time she spent at my breast will grow even more special.

I doubt Mary, as a girl of 13 or 14, would have understood all of that. Of course, saying yes to such a role said alot for her maturity. But I cannot imagine all she faced in that tiny cave of a stable, lent itself to much time pondering the joy of birth or nursing. You never know though. God in His infinite mercy and, hopefully, in gratitude for the willing gift of her body as incubator for His Son, may have given her the wisdom and knowlege far beyond her years. To see and experience the wonder of the moment. I hope so. But if not, I imagine Mary, at a much older age, must have reflected back on those first days as His mother. What would it have felt to look back and see all that had happened because she said, "Let it be with me"!

More On Spiders

Now this is something I did not know....

Which makes me feel somewhat foolish, for exactly what did I think spiders did when their webs were damaged?  The culprits being weather, humans, or the day to day incoming supply of food.

I came out of my door this morning and to my astonishment, the web, I had waxed and waned about so eloquently a few days ago, was repaired - good as new.  I don't know what I expected to happen.  For the spider to sit idly by, hoping his lunch came flying near the intact part of the web.  And throwing a little arachnoid fit when it didn't.   Nope, where there is a hole, you repair it.  In fact, garden spiders sometimes re-ingest the torn, old parts of the web to use as repair materials.  No great theological riddle there.  But I can pretty much find "God" in about everything.  Not always noteworthy, I will admit, but that is my fault, not His.

I know I have just gone through a period where I was pretty much overwhelmed with the rent in my web.  It just felt good to hole away (no pun intended), tucked in, fetal position, and ponder my woes.  Sad thing is, a lot of the joy, He intended for me, pretty much whizzed through my web and now, looking back, that makes me sad.  However, sometimes you just don't feel like making the repairs.  In fact, some folks never make the repairs.  Aptly illustrated by the blue plastic tarps, still adorning some of the roofs of some of my Gulf Coast neighbors after Hurricane Ike.

However, I am starting to slowly piddle around in my emotional and physical life and that feels pretty good.  But you know what?   I was not ready until at this very moment in my life to start rebuilding.   And no amount of pushing, prodding, or cheery advice would have gotten me to this point.   In fact, I think it probably would have made me a little mad and might have cause more damage than good.  I might still be tucked in with my thumb in my mouth.  In fact, knowing me, I would have waited even longer, just out of spite.  People first have to either get tired of the hole itself or what they are losing by stalling.  Then they will "pull themselves up by their boot straps and git to gittin' "as my grandfather used to say.  So it was with me.

I am a fixer-upper by personality and this has been a hard lesson to learn.  But I am trying.  It is so much easier when you finally realize it.  My job is to love them and to make sure they know it.  If I just can't stand it, I could check to be sure they are safe and their needs are met during the hibernation.  Then just wait.  For them to grieve, be angry, stomp a foot or two, and eventually come out of their cave.  I have to remember as much as I love them, there is One that loves them so much more and I just need to sit tight and listen.  And and an added bonus - I have time to mend my own web.

So we have time to repair our own webs!

Perception

To see or not to see, that is the question.....

Don't mean to mess with Shakespeare, but it is true.  What we see and how we perceive it is our choice.

I am reading a book, Mighty Be Our Powers: How Sisterhood, Prayer, and Sex Changed a Nation at War by Leymah Gbowee.  Gbowee is the winner of the 2011 Nobel Peace Prize, political peacemaker and women's activist.   In the preface to her book, she states that the perception of  African women is ragged depressed-looking women with sagging breasts, when in fact they are not.

In the minute I read that statement, I realized sadly that it was true.  How stereotypical my view of folks can be by the visuals or even the written words that I take in daily.  As a child, I loved reading National Geographic magazine, of places far and away.  That visual was imprinted in my mind and is to this day.   I cringe to think of the perception the world has of American women, seeing them through the media by-products my country circulates.  Celebrity escapades, frivolous wealth, waste, and pollution to mention a few.  I am not any of those things, but I am lumped into that boiling view vat of disgusting humanity.

No! I will not allow it!  But who am I saying that to.  A person who has already discounted me and does not want to acknowledge me much less listen to what I might have to say in my defense?

No! That word is for me.  I must not be numbly led into that herd of the non-thinking, non-caring media audience of prejudiced and pre-judged indifference.  Thank you, Leymah Gbowee.  For your life and work as a peacemaker and for that one reflection that awakened the sleeping apathetic giant in me.  I can't wait to read more!

Spider

I love spiders.

Let me rephrase that, I love spider webs. I love when the light is just so and coming out my door, I suddenly see a web hanging from my eaves. That all this industry has been going on without my knowlege. That on this very day, at this very minute, the time was right, the light was right, my thoughts were right, and God said "Enough! You will notice this thing of beauty created in your very space"
That the minute creature of black and brown, sitting within her lace living room, is the very person who created all of this.

Amazing! A few days ago, I found a new web, but sadly there were so many rents or tears in the web, I was somewhat disappointed. It was not a perfect web, as I would have hoped for, but one that was not very pretty.

As my day progressed, my thougths returned to that web again and again. I remembered the bits of remants of insects scattered throughout the web and realized that this was not just web of beauty, but a successful web. The spider was rather large and easy to find, because she was well fed. This little web designer had picked a great spot, laid a great web, and the rents and tears were signs of her success. This web was not solely created for my pleasure but as a tool for the survival of its creator.

As I grow older, I feel much like that web. My body has its share of wounds and tears, and I realize, sitting here writing my experiences, that that is a sign of a successful life. Not measured by the world's success, for sure, but by fact that my Creator has blessed me with food for the journey. And I have received and devoured and each and every scar is a memory of a well fought fight. Whether it be a deepening of my faith or a tool received to fight the next, I have a successful web.

More About Serenity

A follow-up to the Serenity Prayer.  I like bite-size bits that I can chew on.  This line in the complete Serenity Prayer, caught my eye.....

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace

Accept

No whining or belly-aching. Take your medicine like a man, stiff upper lip and all that stuff. Accept - period.

Hardships

What else do you do with them? I guess you can just say no. Maybe like Job you can sit down, tear your clothes, pour ashes over your head, and scrape your scabs with a potshard. I have done that figuratively on several occasions. But then I got up, washed my face, changed my clothes, dabbed my sores with some antibiotic ointment and faced and/or dealt with them head on. The alternative is to lay down and let them roll you over.

As the pathway to Peace

Had to think about that one. For those visual folks, I pictured a guy toting a small designer backpack, tripping down Peace's path, sidestepping the ugly, painful, and tragic. Finally he arrives at Peace's front door, ready to enter the blessed rest.

But that is not how my life has worked - don't know about yours. If Mr. Niebuhr lived in this day, what other words might he use.   Wilderness trail, forging forward.  Maybe a tunnel. Hacking your way through the stone of indifference and heartache reaching finally to the spot where you see that small glimmer of gold. Knowing it is gold only by the difference of it and the surroundings.

A spotlight in the dark of night or maybe a cool drink to a thirsting man. Is it not so much a pathway as a before and after picture. I will never fully appreciate that cool drink like that parched man, because I have never in my life been that thirsty. How can I fully appreciate that gold if I have not spent years and years, panning and tunneling through the rock and shale. The ink of total darkness allows us the thrill at seeing that shaft of white light.

Peace cannot exist without hardship. Peace is the absence of......

Serenity

God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
As it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
If I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
And supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

Caught you, didn't I? How many of you started to read this and pulled out the hand to catch the yawn that would come from hearing this old but true prayer yet one more time? But, you were surprised when it continued, weren't you perhaps even amazed at the words that followed.

This prayer was written by Reinhold Niebuhr, theologian and political activist, in 1937. It was a preface to a sermon he preached and eventually was picked up by a few newsletters, some even to servicemen in World War II. Of course, most of us know the first few lines. They became the byword or by-prayer for the group Alcoholics Anonymous.

I have a friend that is going through professional and financial upheaval during a downsizing of his industry. To top it off, his 17 year old daughter is having serious health issues. In my prayers for the family, the serenity prayer came to mind and I searched the internet to double-check the words I remembered. I was jaw-dropped amazed to read this original and complete version. I decided to bring it before the class I teach on Sunday's and some interesting comments and discussion followed.

I don't want to make this too long, so I will feed it to you in little bites - one or more over the next few days. Open wide!

Lost Prayers

Lost: Prayer -

If found, please return to me.....

This has been my motto for the past few years. The first thing you do when you lose something is to re-trace your steps. So that is what I did. I re-visited my favorite places to pray. Then I dug up old prayer formulas I had used:

A Adoration
C Confession
T Thanksgiving
S Supplication

Still not finding the key, I re-read books that had been like small doors that opened to my original search for this furtive concept of prayer. Nouwen, Yancey, Swindoll, C.S. Lewis, Tozer, Brother Lawrence, Bounds, Murray, St. Augustine, St. John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila. I was no respector of century or gender - I pursued the Desert Father and Desert Mothers. I sought the prayer disciplines in other faiths - Jewish, Hindu, Moslem, Buddhist. Throughout, I read and read the words of scripture concerning prayer, diving deeply into the Greek and Hebrew.

But I am sad to report, I came out empty. I don't even think empty is the proper word for it. I came out unfulfilled.

I was not so much put off by prayer itself, but of my part in it. I am in a point in my life where I am fully OK with what God has planned for me. I trust Him implicitly. I find that sharing my concern, care, and presence with loved ones in times of trial and tribulation are the best things I can offer. God will lead me into offering more if and when needed.

But somewhere deep inside me I know there is more. I know there is more for me to experience and I have, at times in my life, passed into that realm. But this too seems half empty - as if there is a "thing" I must join God in doing. Part of my mind says He is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent so of what use am I. But my heart tells me that God chose to come to this earth and through His actual death and resurrection, vanquishing sin and death, came to dwell within me in my human form. I think as Christians we have become so self-centered. What we feel in worship, what music speaks to me, what sermon benefits me - those are our main concerns. God does not dwell within my heart to give me warm fuzzies. There is some purpose in our symbiotic relationship and as exemplified in the example of the selfless life of Jesus Christ, it should be not be at all about me. If Satan is truly the Prince of this Earth, might I not be the living, breathing, praying, human vessel of God's spirit at work. Is my prayer, joined with my His Holy Spirit, a blazing sword against the injustice, illness, and evils of this world. As I pray for others am I clothing them in the armour my my intercession and standing before them with a shield against the Fiendish Foe of this earth. A foe that seeks out weakness and distress so easily, that only my diligence and His protection can save those from the Evil One.

The more I think and, you could say intercede, I realize that prayer is not a "nice" or "proper" thing to do. It is not about "me" but "God in me" and that is exactly what I have been searching for.

The more I seek what I lost, the more I realize it can never be found. Because it does not exist any longer. It is as if I was looking for something that was so important to me when I was a child and finding it, I realize it longer has the draw or function it once had.

It will always be precious, but there is so much more to see and do.

Prayer

Lost: Prayer -

If found, please return to me.....

This has been my motto for the past few years.
 The first thing you do when you lose something is to re-trace your steps.
 So that is what I did. I re-visited my favorite places to pray.
 Then I dug up old prayer formulas I had used:

A Adoration
C Confession
T Thanksgiving
S Supplication

Still not finding the key, I re-read books that had been like small doors that opened to my original search for this furtive concept of prayer. Nouwen, Yancey, Swindoll, C.S. Lewis, Tozer, Brother Lawrence, Bounds, Murray, St. Augustine, St. John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila. I was no respector of century or gender - I pursued the Desert Father and Desert Mothers. I sought the prayer disciplines in other faiths - Jewish, Hindu, Moslem, Buddhist. Throughout, I read and read the words of scripture concerning prayer, diving deeply into the Greek and Hebrew.

But I am sad to report, I came out empty. I don't even think empty is the proper word for it. I came out unfulfilled.

I was not so much put off by prayer itself, but of my part in it. I am in a point in my life where I am fully OK with what God has planned for me. I trust Him implicitly. I find that sharing my concern, care, and presence with loved ones in times of trial and tribulation are the best things I can offer. God will lead me into offering more if and when needed.

But somewhere deep inside me I know there is more. I know there is more for me to experience and I have, at times in my life, passed into that realm. But this too seems half empty - as if there is a "thing" I must join God in doing. Part of my mind says He is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent so of what use am I. But my heart tells me that God chose to come to this earth and through His actual death and resurrection, vanquishing sin and death, came to dwell within me in my human form. I think as Christians we have become so self-centered. What we feel in worship, what music speaks to me, what sermon benefits me - those are our main concerns. God does not dwell within my heart to give me warm fuzzies. There is some purpose in our symbiotic relationship and as exemplified in the example of the selfless life of Jesus Christ, it should be not be at all about me. If Satan is truly the Prince of this Earth, might I not be the living, breathing, praying, human vessel of God's spirit at work. Is my prayer, joined with my His Holy Spirit, a blazing sword against the injustice, illness, and evils of this world. As I pray for others am I clothing them in the armour my my intercession and standing before them with a shield against the Fiendish Foe of this earth. A foe that seeks out weakness and distress so easily, that only my diligence and His protection can save those from the Evil One.

The more I think and, you could say intercede, I realize that prayer is not a "nice" or "proper" thing to do. It is not about "me" but "God in me" and that is exactly what I have been searching for.

The more I seek what I lost, the more I realize it can never be found. Because it does not exist any longer. It is as if I was looking for something that was so important to me when I was a child and finding it, I realize it longer has the draw or function it once had.

It will always be precious, but there is so much more to see and do.

Standing on the Promises

In the Bible, is there any more "human" human than Jacob. In fact many of us would think we come out smelling like a rose in comparison. Grabber, thief, trickster are just a few of his names. Yet in the 32nd chapter of Genesis, starting at verse 9, there is a prayer that is the essence of what our soul should and would if it could cry out for....

"O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac, the Lord Who said to me, Return to your country and to your people and I will do you good, I am not worthy of the least of all the mercy and loving-kindness and all the faithfulness which You have shown to Your servant, for with [only] my staff I passed over this Jordan [long ago], and now I have become two companies. Deliver me, I pray You, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau; for I fear him, lest he come and smite [us all], the mothers with the children. And You said, I will surely do you good and make your descendants as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude"

First, Jacob starts out naming God by His name. Second, he reminds God of His promise. In other words, "I am just doing what You told me to do". Then Jacob's soul literally gets on its knees and lays out the unabashed truth. Just how undeserving he really is. Next he goes into gratitude for all he has been blessed with. He starts with remembering his meager beginnings and speaks of an awareness of how much he has now in comparison, thanks be to God. Then he states his request,what he needs from God. Lays it all out on the line. After this Jacob prostrates himself on the proverbial ground and says "I am afraid" He names the fear - his brother Esau - and I can imagine the anxiety is heightened because he more or less deserves what he is about to receive.

Then he he throws in the mothers and children, which many readers see as a bargaining tool or manipulation. Good old Jacob - back to his old tricks! Perhaps, but maybe it was one of the first times Jacob saw beyond himself.

And then the grand finale. God, you take away my children, and where does that leave your Promise. The nation to be fashioned through and by You. You ordained it would go from Abraham, through my dad Isaac and then through me, flawed and undeserving as I am. What happens to that if I die this day? What happens if my kids go with me?

That to me is amazing. I think we jump right over this prayer in our rush to get to the wrestling match Jacob had with the Angel (Lord), and we disregard this passage. His words, to me, prove that Jacob had already wrestled with himself and "cried Uncle". He was no match for Esau physically. Esau was coming with an army of 400 men. Jacob definitely could not stand on his stellar character. But in this prayer, he becomes the man God wants - no needs, him to be.

For folks that have made a mess of their lives, it is difficult to come up against a wall of your bad decisions, missed opportunities, and just plain screw-ups. For those folks who have tried their best, more or less, they come against their walls, as well. Talk about disheartening. But the key in both cases is to name the wall and admit your inability to scale it.

How very hard is that to do, especially for the good guys. Decisions with the best of intentions, circumstances totally out of your control, life sucking events - all make up the mortar and stone of that wall. It is so easy to sit at the base of the wall and just give up and have a pity party of one. But there is a way over that wall and it is a really fairly simple. Name it (the wall) and claim it (your weakness) and rely on Him.

In this case, Jacob slept. No better advice can be given to any of us. Wait on the Lord and He will provide not only the wisdom but the means to deal with the situation. In this case, Jacob drew from the resources God had provided him. He took his blessings and offered them to Essau. Only in praying did Jacob put himself in a place where he could not only see his illness but the remedy thereof.

In my life right now, I am being faced with what seems insurmountable obstacles. Most, not of my doing. A few born of my apathy and/or neglect. And then of course a few bad decisions scattered in for good measure.

I have only one thing to say. Thanks be to God, His help is not based on my worthiness.

Tag You're It

1 Peter 2:5, 9-10
9-10But you are the ones chosen by God, chosen for the high calling of priestly work, chosen to be a holy people, God's instruments to do his work and speak out for him, to tell others of the night-and-day difference he made for you—from nothing to something, from rejected to accepted.

Choseness has been a prevalent thread through my reading lately. It is a hard word for the me to assimilate. I don’t know if it stems from my feelings of “unworthiness” or that most of my life is based on my “choices”. My spouse, my vocation, my education. Even my family size – all more or less choices made on my part. Even my church “work” involves things I choose to do. I sing in the choir and teach a class. My choices, hopefully, based on my talents or gifts, as I see God has equipped me.

But God has “chosen” me. No matter how much I think it – I did not choose God, He chose me. What stands between me and that realization? For one, getting my mind around it. That definitely comes from my basic feelings of unworthiness. A lifelong need to be accepted and always feeling I fall short. I have recently been jarred into coming to grips with exploring the expanse and depth of God’s love for me. Scary and intimidating endeavor for someone whose specialty is humble pie, of the more or less artificial variety.

I think the other problem I have with this choosing thing is that I did not apply for it. Now I don’t mean that I don’t love God and have not accepted Christ’s gift of His life, but there again, I still more or less feel I am in the drivers’s seat. In this scripture, my choseness and special-ness are out of my hands. He has chosen me and given me my title. I am a holy priest and part of a holy nation. A lay minister among many others. Now the stretch might not be so far for me, as I have had a teaching role in the church most of my life. But everyone is in this role, no matter what you do or don’t do in the Body. The name plate is there, your choice is to be in the office or out to lunch, indefinitely.

I am His instrument to do 2 things – work for him and speak out for him. Now, it is clear he needs you and me to do this. He has no voice but ours. He has no body but mine. But what to do and what to tell. He has that covered as well.
Our work and our voices should be a living example, a story of the day and night difference He made in and for for me. He surely did that. From heaven to earth via a manger in a stable. From earth to heaven via a cross. He went from something to nothing, from accepted to rejected.

All this so I could do the opposite. This nothing could be something. Something only because He sought me and bought me, as the old hymn says. His night and day, death and resurrection was for me. So this rejected mound of clay could be molded in the purity and righteousness of His life and death, placing me squarely in the hands of the Potter. To be molded and made into His likeness, giving me His voice and His life. So that I might share it with others.

Rock On!

This Easter season, something jumped out at me. Rocks. You may say it is a reach, but I noticed the word throughout the traditional scriptures of the Easter story. The rocks that would rejoice if his disciples did not, along that palm-strewn entrance to Jerusalem. The rocks that split in pieces when Jesus breathed his last. I could go on, but I want to visit about those first.

Rocks singing hallelujah! Can you imagine. Once I had a close friend that was seriously ill, close to the end of his life. He suffered Alzheimers and I had said my good-byes some time back. However, I had a trip planned out of town to the beautiful hill country of Texas and I hated to leave him and his family at such a difficult time. They urged me to go and I did. My prayer along the way was for God to "nudge" me regularly to pray for my friend and those he loved. I just knew I would get caught up in the beauty of the landscape and forget these folks. But it was just the opposite. Everytime I saw a sunset, viewed a valley, a craggy rock formation, or sat amidst a field of wildflowers, they just screamed at me. I am not exaggerating. They literally praised God and I could not help but join in, lifting the name of my friend and family to Him in the chorus. It was an incredible experience. So I can imagine singing rocks!

The rocks in pieces, I can see that too. If rocks could sing, why wouldn't they be able to grieve. To mourn and wail in the sounds of an earthquake, fracturing and flinging their stony arms abroad, bemoaning the pain of His death. An earth that so celebrated His coming, now so distressed by our ignorance and neglect of its Prince of Peace. Yes, I can see rocks grieving.

Rocks - who'd have thought it. Maybe pet rocks were not such a stupid idea after all.

Sounds of Scarlet

Someone attempting to describe the color scarlet to a person born blind declared, “It‟s like the sound of a trumpet"

I came across this comment by Phillip Yancey in the preface of a book he wrote with Paul Brand, "Fearfully & Wonderfully Made". It hit me like nothing has in a long, long time. How do you describe anything visual to a person blind from birth. But with a sound, or a touch, or a taste. I see scarlet not as a vibrant, piercing sound of the trumpet, but more like the slow deep voice of a cello as the bow is drawn across the strings. What would I pick for touch? I am thinking a deep aching pain. And for taste, I can only think of a tart bing cherry.

As I pondered this question, I found I was stumped. In fact, I was frustrated that someone would describe scarlet as a trumpet sound. As I have explained, I think otherwise. Then it dawned on me, isn't that what we do with religion. We see the writings of those who long ago experienced and loved God in the best way they could at the time. They were limited by their culture, knowlege, and history. But when I read their words, I see them trying to tell me who He was. It was not wrong or right, it was their experience. In my time, I am doing the same thing. I am trying to figure Him out and trying to speak Him in my words, my life, my faith. It too is limited by this age I live in and this place I find myself.

So where do I or any other Christian come off telling anyone they are wrong!! It's ludicrous. I am blind and can't see it. I am deaf, and don't know it. I can only and should only tell someone else what I feel and what I know. That really is something, isn't it!

Two Wolves

A Cherokee Legend

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. "A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy.

"It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego." He continued, "The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

Probably heard this at some time, but never thought about it. If you were raised as a kid in the 50's and attended church, you had a pretty good idea of what was right and what was not. But that is not exactly true. You had a pretty good idea of what moral society said was right and what was not. I loved it.

You got on the bus on Monday morning and every kid there had been to church the day before. You never did anything on Sunday because nothing was open that day. You did get to play outside but that was usually because your mother wanted a nap.

But you see I was a kid, and pretty much didn't bother with anything out of my scope of self. I did not know that Mrs. Jones was a secret alcoholic. Or Mr. Lester the scoutmaster was a little too friendly with the boys. Or Widow Barnes had a few too many late night callers. Out of sight more or less made it only slightly out of right. It's a new day. Our sins are much the same, just more out in the open. And society has deemed them less embarrassing.

So why did reading this simple story seem like a slap in the face? I literally had not even thought about having these two wolves, but I do. Most of my life I did most the right things and refrained from doing most of the bad things, so was this battle one I guess I felt I had won? The greater light bulb going off in my mind is that it is I can literally not win. No matter how good I try to be. As long as I am human and live on this planet Earth, the war wages.

True, prayerful confession is not merely tatteling on the bad wolf as much as it is encouraging the good one. How critical is it that I feed the good one with what I take in - whether it be visual, auditory, emotional, or sensual. The bad one is there and it too will demand to be fed, because as much as I wish he did not live in me, he does. On good days, he just gets table scraps, but there are occasions when he gets the choicest cuts of meat.

And I haven't had a pet in almost 30 years! Well, I guess I need to get some books on wolf behavior. Woops, there I go again!

Be

Our church is doing an on-line book study/discussion. Has been very interesting. Doing the book, Everything Belongs by Richard Rohr. In the book, he mentions a scripture he uses in contemplative prayer. I used the scripture this week and had the most interesting time with the phrase. His migration is as follows:

Be still and know that I am God
Be still and know that I am
Be still and know
Be still
Be

It was funny, but after a day or so of this, I could not leave "Be" alone. I had to add....

Be Me

Now, being more like God is not a bad objective, but it again points to my inability to leave something well enough alone. I must be "doing" something. I have a hard time just being.

This morning as I prayed the scripture, after I finished (with my new ending) it was as if God added his own couplet...

Let Me be
Be

I know a father longs for a child to grow up in His image, to follow in His footsteps. I have for most of my life tried to either please, worship, follow, fear, imitate, contain, blame, love, or "something" Him . Thank God (literally) I have survived through the process I have concocted.

In the recent years, I have fervently worked to remove the boundaries and limits I had set around Him through childhood concreteness, teenage adulation, adult pre-determination, and mid-life consternation. I have opened the divine gates and allowed Him to roam freely in my life, my intellect, and my soul.

But, lately, He has really started meddling. Not merely satisfied with my new and improved outlook of Him,He wants me to address the limits I have placed on myself as well. All those things that I had pretty well tamed or felt at least corralled, insecurities, feelings of inferiority, pride, need to please, guilt, bitterness, hate, pity, etc., are in a good place. Now I feel Him asking me to open those gates and disburse those fairly civilized demons. As overwhelming as it was to start the journey to the real "Him", this seems near to impossible. Where do I start. I find I have an entire set of armor to work my way through and then I only reach the layers of outerwear. And He has pretty much set down the law. No deals. He will settle for no less than vulnerability. I cannot exchange my gas mask for a lighter allergy one. He wants me naked. This is probably the scariest thing I have ever faced.

But as I think of this, maybe there will be one more line to my scriptural progression.

We will Be

Salty Enough For You

Our minister quoted some disturbing statistics on Sunday. He said the percentage of folks today believing in God, stating they are Christians, believing Jesus is the Son of God, etc. were in the high 80's. Higher than in some of the more "God-fearing" decades like the 50's, etc. Now that gave me pause for thought. He suggested maybe we are having more influence on the world than we know. My immediate thought was "I doubt that". But as I thought about it, I said "Hmmmmm...."

I think "we" have changed. I don't look like the Christian I was 25 years ago. I used to be straight and narrow, drawing the line between me and you. I am not the same person. I hope now a line exists, it is drawing us together, not separating us. But I still claim the same name as I did back then - Christian.

Second, has the idea of God changed? Does He no longer scare us with a whiff of sufphur. Is He more accepting and open? And if so what does that mean anyway?

Maybe it is our idea of salt. Does our saltiness not play out in a dividing line we call the church, with good guys on one side and bad guys on the other. I hate to tell you, but I don't think Christians play a big role in society as a whole. It will swing like a pendulum between the two extremes - let it all hang out or keep in all tucked in. It always has, it always will. Jesus was salty but His life and His ministry did not have a great impact on the Roman government at the time. He was a nuisance, they had to deal with in the end, but their empire was not affected by Him. Before you get a bee in your bonnet, I said Him. His physical 3 year ministry. But His life is another story. Leaven, salt, light. These are things that cannot be hidden, toned down, or hid. And the ripple of His life is affecting us today.

Salt is not something we can hoard or sprinkle on whom we please. It is what we are and if we truly do our condiment best, our immediate world cannot remain tasteless.

Running on Empty

You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule. Matthew 5:3

End of your rope.

Only two things you can do at this point. Climb up or let go. If you find yourself at the end, it is probably because you have slipped down. So your ability and/or energy to change your situation is more than likely depleted. If you let go and drop, no telling where you'll land. The best scenario is that someone pulls you up. And you hope that Someone is God.

I wasted alot of time trying to make life clean enough for God. I didn't want Him to live there, just drop by for a visit. Maybe an extended stay if times got tough. I did not need him on a regular basis. Just when I got close to the end of that rope.

More of God, less of me. Funny, but that has been my by-word, my prayer for a long time. In reading this scripture,though, I realize I have been going at this bassackwards. Beating myself up, being critical and self deprecating. These are not the ways to reduce the me in me.

What if I infuse more of Him in me. If there is more of Him, there is automatically less room for me. I have been acting on the opposite premise for most of my life. I have been lessening me, when I need to grow Him. Hmmmm.....interesting.....

The problem is, I have to get out of this crisis mode. It has to be an everyday relationship. I need Him to move in - become my roommate. I am tired of this crisis kind of love relationship we have been living in. Time for a change

Humility. That is the other word I have been grappling with. A state of humility. Not groveling and crawling but just a frank and honest estimation of how we stand. He is God - I am not. Can't get any clearer than that. And if that is the case...what am I doing hanging around on a rope in the first place!