Our Next Housing Adventure

We bought a house yesterday.  Here is the view looking from the street at the house:

You enter the house by going down the side path:

The doors are accessed from the deck on the back:

In some ways, the fact that we bought a house is unremarkable; we've bought 5 properties before.  But when we sold our last house, the house in the historic district in South Florida, I thought it might be the last time we would be homeowners.  We had managed to sell in a hot market--why reinvest in real estate?

There are many reasons, of course.  But here's our reason:  we had what feels like a once-a-decade chance to buy in a neighborhood we've had our eye on for years, the neighborhood of residential houses at the church camp, Lutheridge (where we go for family reunions at Thanksgiving and the location of my favorite retreats and where my spouse was on the board), which is in Arden, near Asheville, NC. For a while those houses were non winterized houses that were built in the 1950's and ‘60s. Then other houses were added to the neighborhood. As houses in that neighborhood have come on the market, we've thought about them, but the time was never right.

In fact, we had looked at the one we just bought before, back in 2011 when it was about to be offered for sale, so we had a good sense of it. It needed work then, and it still needs work, but it has good bones; it was built in 1976.  The people who bought it in 2012 used it as a vacation house.

We remembered it as "the green house."  Below is the kitchen in all of its avocado glory. 

The wood paneling is also green, as are the rafters.  Here's a view of the loft with the doors leading to storage under the eaves,  a picture taken as I stood on the stairs looking into the loft:

At the time we saw it in 2011, it had green shag carpeting throughout, even in the bathrooms.  Now it's just subflooring.

Here's the view facing the other way:

When we saw it in 2011, my mom was thinking about having a Lutheridge house as a place for family reunions, but it's too small for that.  In 2011, this house wouldn't have been a possibility for just my spouse and me.  We had jobs in South Florida, where we also had property:  a house that needed work and a condo we couldn't sell.  

Back in April, as the Create in Me retreat ended, I said to one of my pastor friends who lives at Lutheridge, "I still dream of having a Lutheridge house."  A few days later, she told me that this one would soon be available.  I almost didn't mention it to my spouse.  I assumed he would be uninterested or that it would be out of our price range.

Instead, my spouse called the owner, they chatted, and my spouse came up with an offer that was close to what they had in mind.  My spouse has said he always wanted to work on rehabbing a house when no one was living there and when there wasn't a high pressure timeline. Now he can have that experience.  I will still go to live at Wesley Seminary where I will be a full-time student, and he will be at Wesley part of the time and at the house part of the time. He will get trees and nature and a house project. Having a house project is not something that appeals to me, but this will be his project.

My pastor friend said, "The timing is excellent. Seminary housing is fine, but feels like a perch more than a nest. Now you’ll have both!"

I couldn't have said it any better.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

 The readings for Sunday, July 3, 2022:

First reading and Psalm
2 Kings 5:1-14
Psalm 30

Alternate First reading and Psalm
Isaiah 66:10-14
Psalm 66:1-9

Second reading
Galatians 6:(1-6), 7-16

Gospel
Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

I've seen many Christians and churches returning to this passage periodically, wondering if the early mission of the Church should be our mission. Should we leave our church buildings and go out into our neighborhoods? Perhaps we should abandon our church buildings altogether and meet in bars or coffee shops, all the better to meet the inhabitants of our communities.

Or maybe we should make churches more like the types of Sunday activities that compete with us:  church as brunch!  

Or maybe it's time to stop thinking so much and return to our roots.  We need to deliver the good news that God loves us, that the perfection of creation has begun, the Kingdom is breaking through.  We have many ways to deliver that message. 

I think of this idea each summer as I witness Vacation Bible School. I see children who aren't interested in church as grown ups offer it, but who LOVE Vacation Bible School. I know more than one parent who goes from church to church so that the child can repeat the wonderful experience of VBS. I know children who love VBS so much that they bring their closest friends.

What would happen if we felt about our faith the way that children felt about VBS? Would it be easier to go out into our communities to tell people what's going on behind our church walls?

More than once, I've said, why can't we make regular church more like VBS, so that people want to come year round?  I've expressed the same sentiment about campus ministry, about retreats, about church camp.

Because a variety of Christians wrestles with these questions, we will see a variety of answers, as we continue to try to discern how to let our lights shine brightly in the wilderness of the wider world.

Our Last Sunday at Our Local Church

Yesterday, at the end of the regular church service, our pastor had my spouse and I come forward.  He offered a prayer for us and a benediction.  While I didn’t cry like I thought I might, I did find it moving. I like the idea of being commended to the care of God as we go forth.

 

A few weeks ago, my pastor asked us when our last day would be. I knew that he would be preparing something like this, and while part of me wants to just slip away unnoticed, I do realize the value of being able to say goodbye. We've been part of this church for over 10 years, and it's good to have a formal way to separate.

 

After the service we gathered everyone who was attending yesterday for a group picture.  It's interesting to think about who is there, who has moved on, and what the future holds.

 

Our church also had some food brought in for lunch and a cake--it was delightful to share a meal with people.

 

 I thought I might write a blog post about how this church has formed me, and I might later. In many ways, my blogs have been a much more detailed record of how this church has formed me, from offering me the opportunity to do all sorts of liturgical art to preaching to supporting my candidacy for seminary, on and on I could go.

It is good to leave on a positive note, and it's easier to leave on a positive note when one is moving multiple states away. I've been waiting to feel some regret, and I do feel the sadness of knowing I will miss people.  But I don't feel like we are about to make a terrible mistake, and that, too, makes it easier to head north.

Week in Review--with a poem!

 As I think back over the past week, I am just astonished at all that has happened. A week ago, I was in Columbia, SC with a cast on my arm. I got the cast removed on Wednesday, and now I have a whole new set of exercises for my wrist and hand. A week ago, we expected that Row v Wade would be overturned fairly soon, and now it has. A week ago, I wasn't sure how we would decide to move our possessions across multiple states. In the past week we reserved a moving van to do it ourselves but ultimately got an offer we couldn't refuse from a moving company. We have showed our condo to several potential renters who will come after us. I hope one of the ones who wants our piano is the one ultimately chosen.

Today is our last Sunday at church, and I have grades for my online class due tomorrow morning. Time continues to march ahead.

I've done a lot of sorting which reminds me of how much I've written never sees anyone's eyes but mine. So in that spirit, since time is short and I have grading to do let me close with a poem that I wrote last week after walking the labyrinth.

I walk the labyrinth

careful to avoid

the fire ant mounds that line

the paths. I step over velvet

pods dropped from ancient magnolias.

A dog runs across the seminary

grounds. The sun begins

the morning tasks of sweeping away the shadows.

All creation yearns for insight.

 

 

Puritan Shackles

I have written about Supreme Court decisions before. Would I say that any felt as momentous as yesterday's overturning of Roe v Wade? Maybe the one that legalized same sex marriage but with yesterday's decision, that ruling, and many others, may be in jeopardy.

By now many others have written or spoken more eloquently than I on all sorts of angles of yesterday's ruling. And there have been several decades of the court scaling back its support for the original Roe v Wade decision. But I didn't expect it to be completely overturned. Even with the document leak back in May that led me to expect it, I was still surprised yesterday when I heard of the ruling.

I am much less sure these days than I was as an 18 year old about the question of where life begins. But I am still not in favor of outlawing abortion or severely restricting it. I don't know any women who use abortion as birth control but I do know people who have had problematic pregnancies and needed to be able to abort. I haven't met anyone who is cavalier about needing to abort.

It has been a strange week what with yesterday's decision and the decision overturning a New York rule that restricts guns that came a day earlier. When I look at these decisions, I see not an issue of states’ rights but instead a fear of humans and the longing to control humans. There are days when I look at the news and I sense the presence of our Puritan ancestors still influencing so much of how we live in this country: their fear of women, their fear of others, the longing to control, their rather limited idea of what joy should look like. It's hard to shake off those Puritan shackles.

But it's also a week where I found some causes for hope. We live in a world where Emma Thompson makes really amazing movies. We have more books than ever, quality works of fiction and nonfiction. I saw three doves on a lake bank today, and they seemed unafraid of any of us: me, the man walking his dog, the lake which always wants to go over its banks because of flooding caused by global warming.

Let me collect some possible images for a poem:

Bone covers screws with a quilt constructed of calcium

Three white doves shelter in the curve of a lake bank

Wombs full or empty

A cabinet of china destined for the dust heap

A Puritan spirit swirls beneath

 

The Feast Day of John the Baptist

 Some months, I’m in the mood for John the Baptist. I’m ready to go into the wilderness. I’ve got a file of recipes for locusts and wild honey. I’m in a daring mood—I’ll speak truth to the King Herods of the world, even if it means my head on a platter.

But much of the time, when John the Baptist shows up in the lectionary or when we celebrate his feast day on June 24 or when we talk about prophets in general, I’m weary. Most of the time, I'm tired of having prophets like John the Baptist call me part of a brood of vipers or comparing me to shrubbery that refuses to behave.

I know, I know, I have all these faults. Don't threaten me with that ax. I try so hard to bear good fruit, but I'm afraid it isn't enough. I'm surrounded by people who are clearly in a more crabby mood than I am, and I'm trying to be sympathetic, but it's hard. This attempt of mine to transform myself into a compassionate person is taking longer than I thought it would. I see people having meltdowns, and my response is to close my door and turn off all media.  I don't say, "What can I do to help people through this painful time?"

But let me return to the mission of the prophets. God does not send prophets because we’re all already damned. God sends prophets to call us back to the path we should be travelling.

On this day in June when we celebrate John the Baptist, it’s good to be reminded that I'm not my final, improved version of myself. I still have work to do. And I need to hear that message that the prophets bring us. I'm lazy and inclined to coast, and it's good to know that God has a vision for me that is vaster than any I could dream myself.

It’s also good to remind ourselves of who we are. I like the passages when John the Baptist is questioned about his identity. He says, “I am not the Messiah” (John 1:20). He could have hoodwinked people who were willing to believe he was the Messiah. He could have made a power grab. He could have gotten great wealth and women and audiences with powerful rulers.

Those temptations have led more than one religious leader astray.

But John knows who he is. He is not the Messiah. He has been sent to point the way to salvation, not to provide it.

Likewise, we are not called to be the Messiah, That doesn't mean we’re off the hook in terms of behavior. We can't say, "I am not the Messiah," and stay home on our sofas. We can’t decide to watch reruns of The Simpsons and do nothing about injustice in the world.

No, John the Baptist reminds us that we are called to emulate Jesus. Some days, though, I’d rather emulate somebody else. I’m so tired of working so hard to be a light to this fallen world.

When I feel that way, I need to listen to the words of John the Baptist again. I need to listen to God, who often calls to us from the wilderness. Most of us need to be reminded to listen to that call that God makes. Let the words fill our hearts with hope: "The crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways shall be made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God." (Luke 3: 5-6). Our salvation is at hand: our grieving hearts will be comforted, our anger and irritation will lift, the planet will heal itself as it always does, God will take care of us and everything we need is on its way, even if we’re not ready for deserts and locusts in our dedication.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, June 26, 2022:


First Reading: 1 Kings 19:15-16, 19-21

First Reading (Semi-cont.): 2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14

Psalm: Psalm 16

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20

Second Reading: Galatians 5:1, 13-25

Gospel: Luke 9:51-62


In this Gospel, we see Jesus headed towards Jerusalem. He meets people who want to go with him, and some of them he seems to turn away, by warning of a sort of homelessness, a psychic isolation that comes with nestlessness.

Other people he invites to follow him, and they want to, but they have these responsibilities that they need to attend to first. And just like that, they've lost their chance. Many of us must understand the plight of the man who needs to bury his father. In the time of Jesus, this obligation would have loomed even larger than it does today.

Jesus seems to suggest that we forsake family responsibilities, and this theme recurs periodically throughout the Gospels. Or maybe he's suggesting that we shuck off the things which are already dead.

Our society gives us many rules and regulations that torment us as surely as the demons tormented the man in last Sunday's Gospel. Ask any sociologist, and they'll tell you that socialization binds us more thoroughly than any other aspect of our being. It's socialization that demands that we mop the floors when we'd rather be making music. It's socialization that tells us we must attend to our families, our jobs, our various responsibilities, in certain ways, even when those ways put our souls in danger.

Jesus warns us again and again of the dangers of taking our hands off the spiritual plow. Of course, most of us aren't leading agrarian lives anymore, so the metaphor may not be as powerful. But in our time of increasingly fragmented attention spans, the central message remains: Jesus tells us to keep the focus on him, not on our smart phones, our iPads, our e-mail accounts, our televisions, all the screens which rule our lives.

If we're not willing to forsake those screens for God, perhaps it's time to deepen that faith. If our mission doesn't move us, perhaps it's time to adjust the mission. What would excite you so powerfully that you would never lose your grip on that Gospel plow, that you would never look back? How can you get that excitement into your daily life?

Gathering Fragments from Last Week's Onground Intensive

  A week ago, I’d be getting ready for the onground intensive for the spiritual direction certificate program at LTSS, Southern Seminary in Columbia, SC.  Alert readers will say, “Didn’t you finish that program earlier?”  Yes, I did.  But alumni were welcomed back to participate, since the pandemic disrupted the program for so many of us.  Let me collect a few last fragments and photos, before I forget these nuggets.

--We began our first session with consenting prayer.  Our leader took us through a meditation which asked us where God invites us to be open, in a space of hospitality, around these issues:  security, approval, control, and change.

--Writer Barbara Peacock had interesting insights about what/how the Middle Passage taught the ancestors how to minister to each other and how spiritual direction practices emerged from this time.

--In our last session, we did lectio divina, and at the end, we all shouted the word or phrase that spoke to us, all of us at the same time.  It was an interesting variation.

--I went back and forth to the Chapel. I love the way the light streams through the stained glass lending various colors to the white marble. Stunning!

--I walked the labyrinth each morning, which I enjoyed, even though I didn't receive stunning insights.

--In my small group, conversation came back to the idea of God and bodies. One speaker had tried to connect Eros with God, and I think this speaker was trying to make some connections with alternate sexualities but I wasn't sure. In my small group, we talked about how an embodied God is difficult if one lives in a body that is not approved of by one’s larger society.

--It was good for me to talk about these ideas with other people outside of my small group, people who were not as discomfited as I was.  We talked about Eros and the Holy Spirit, which seemed a bit better than Eros and God the Father. We talked about Eros not as a sexual energy, but an energy that was embodied in multiple ways.

--I do wonder what it would mean if we took seriously this notion that all are created in the image of God. We would have to expand our vision of God. What would it mean if we worshipped a God who is disabled, in ways that so many of us are disabled? It would certainly challenge our idea of God as all powerful, which is fine with me, but I realize it would be a tough sell for others. Throughout the week I tried to straighten my fingers as I continue to heal from my wrist injury. Some days I was more successful than others. The idea of a disabled God makes sense to me.

--Should I be using the term differently abled to God? But I do mean disabled, a God without full ability, a God who may have developed other capabilities in the absence of full capability.

--We had more free time scheduled into this intensive than in the past so I reached out to an old college friend who lives in Charlotte, and happily she was free on Friday afternoon and willing to drive down.  We met at a coffee shop staffed by people who wore T shirts of the bands of our youth. The guy who took our order had a patch on his leather vest that was a replication of The Smiths’ album, The Queen Is Dead. I said, “I paid $5 for that album back in the day.” He told me he had paid $35 for his vinyl copy. Maybe I should take a closer look at the records that are in the box of records that need to be sorted. Of course I have no idea how to find the people who would pay $35 for my old vinyl.

--It was great to drink coffee with my friend on the hottest day of the year so far, as REM's “Don't Go Back to Rockville” played softly in the background. As with the best of friends, it was like no time had passed at all. Throughout the week I had the feeling of falling through a hole in time. Time has felt more fluid.

--We ended with a commissioning service and the singing of  “I the Lord of Sea and Sky” with its refrain of being willing to go where God sends us.

--Take a good look at this picture:

 

 

I am sure that I’ve never been at a  communion service presided over by two female African-American ordained clergy.  Wow!

I went forth, fed and nourished in so many ways.

 

Father's Day and Juneteenth

Today we have a variety of holidays to celebrate.  People who have good relationships with their fathers, or people who have children, may be celebrating Father's Day.  Some of us will go to church, as we normally do, although if you're like me, we may not know what normal looks like anymore.

If I was preaching today, would I talk about Father's Day?  Or would I talk about Juneteenth?  Both holidays offer interesting ways of thinking about our relationship to God.

Do we see God as a Father?  And if so, is that a loving parent or a judging parent?  I'm not crazy about the idea of God as Parent (of either gender). I think that God as Parent is an infantilizing metaphor. If God is a Dad (or so much more rarely, a Mom), then it follows that we're children, and too often, we see that as a reason for inactivity. But God needs us to be active in the world. I'd go further and say that God is counting on us. I much prefer the idea of God as partner. God can be the Senior partner; I'm cool with that.

Juneteenth offers other questions.  What enslaves us?  How are we benefitting from the oppression of others?  God offers us freedom, but can enslaved humans and oppressing humans fully appreciate that liberation?  How can we break free to become the humans God invites us to be?

It could be interesting to consider these questions in tandem, to ask about questions of agency.  What helps us grow?  What makes us wither?  What makes us strong?  What breaks our spirit in ways that echo across generations?

These questions are always essential, but they seem even more important as we approach the Solstice.  We are at a midpoint of the year.  We will never have more daylight this year than we have over the next few days.  For many of us, it may feel like we get extra time in the day, even though every day only offers us 24 hours.  Let us use this space to analyze where we are right now and where we want to be.

A juxtaposition of holidays and observances gives us new opportunities to consider essential questions in different lights.  Let's make use of today's juxtapositions.  Let us correct our trajectories if need be.

Let us be free and work to free others.

Crucial Questions for Spiritual Directees and for Us All

Yesterday at our onground intensive, Dr. Amy Oden gave a presentation about spiritual direction which included some interesting questions for directees, questions that would be valuable outside of spiritual direction:

--When and where and with whom do you feel most alive right now?

--When and where and with whom are you able to rest and to be yourself?

--How do you listen to your life?

--What is your favorite time of day? What makes it your favorite time of day?

Our presenter noted that this question helps figure out when we are most present to both self        and God, and she says it's one of the best questions that she's using with her directees right now.

--Where in daily life do you connect with God?

Dr.Oden pointed out that we already have a connection to the holy; God is already showing up and planting seeds.  Identifying those seeds can be a crucial part of the spiritual direction process.

She presented the problems with our self-improvement culture and these problems aren't unfamiliar to most of us. One of the problems that we may not consider is that turning our spiritual life or our creative life or our relationship life into a self-improvement project can lead to a lot of self-judgment and shame. Instead of giving ourselves encouragement because we are able to meditate for at least 7 minutes a day, we feel bad because we can't go for 45 minutes a day.

Dr. Oden encouraged us to help our directees (and ourselves!) turn our gaze away from self-judgment and shame but towards desire and yearning. Many of us are already doing some of the things that are important to us we might be able to do more if we could get away from our tendency towards self-judgment and shame. 

Praying with Icons

Last night's worship involved praying with icons. I wasn't sure what to expect--would we have actual icons in the worship space with us? We did in a way, but it was more like a slideshow. Still it was profoundly moving.

Our worship leader used the word icon in all of its connotations, both the traditional icon painted by orthodox artists along with more modern work. Our worship leader also included a meditation after the slideshow where he talked about how we can be icons both in the way we illuminate the work of God to others and in the way we see others as icons, even if they don't see themselves as that way.

But it was the slide show that was the best part of this service. I would have been perfectly happy to spend an hour or two meditating on these icons.

We took 10 minutes, one minute per icon.  there were several screens throughout the room so my view of the icon was not impeded. Classical music played behind the sites the slideshow.

I expected something like this icon (this version is a print that hangs in the Mepkin Abbey refectory):

Indeed a version of this icon was one of the slides, along with an icon that looked much older like it had been just dug up from an archaeological site.  I wasn’t able to find that one online.  I also was not able to find the icon of Christ wearing a crown of thorns with the crown of thorns in bloom. That one will stay with me.

We had this icon, a depiction of the Annunciation:

I thought that this work of art was much more modern but when I researched it, I found out that it was actually painted as the 19th century turned into the 20th century and painted by an African-American artist, Henry Ossawa Tanner. When I've seen it before, I thought the work was Irish.

I was much more profoundly moved by this icon, a version of the Visitation painted by Mickey McGrath:

I love the colors and the exuberance and the patterns. I loved this image so much that I brought it up on my computer when I returned to my room and spent some more time with it.

Last night was our experimentation with silence so we left the worship service in silence, except for the thunder that had been rumbling for hours. As I stared at the icon on my computer, I noticed that my west facing window was full of a strange light. I knew I could look at images of icons at any hour, but I wouldn't ever again have this exact sunset with the light diffused by the gray clouds. I watched the sky for half an hour, something I do not do very often.

I didn't even try to capture the light with my camera. I decided to use our experiment with silence as a prompt to be fully present to the light of the sunset, to the darkening sky, and to the presence of God.

Various Versions of Divina

Yesterday, we did several sessions of lectio divina.  Lectio devina is different than Bible study; the traditional approach is to read a Bible passage several times, often out loud, and to listen to what God might be saying to the listener. Often the second reading will have the listener choose a word or phrase that God is using to speak to the listener, and subsequent readings have the listener focus that word or phrase.

My experiences with lectio divina have been like the one we had in the evening worship service where the passage is a longer passage. In last night's worship service we used the text of Psalm 8, the whole Psalm.

During our afternoon instructional time, we used a much shorter passage, part of Psalm 46: 10, just 8 words:  "Be still, and know that I am God."

Our lectio divina leader told us to listen for three words and to let them minister to us. In a later reading we were to choose one of those three words as the one that was speaking to us.  We had time to meditate on the words, and we had time to share our insights with another member of the group.

We also did visio divina, a practice that is not as well known. Barbara L. Peacock was our special guest and instructional leader yesterday. She's the author of one of the books that the program uses, Soul Care in African American Practice. On the larger screen we saw a projection of the book cover: 

It's a gorgeous cover but it wasn't the first cover. She told us that the first cover had a background of kente cloth, along with the images of Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, and someone else (Frederick Douglass?) overlayed.  Her adult daughter who is a graphic designer said that the cover was too retro and that the fresh work inside the cover needed a better cover.  And so they came up with one.

The cover shows all kinds of abstract shapes, along with vivid colors, and we were asked to focus on one section of the cover and to see what was revealed.  Those who were willing were encouraged to share what they saw, and I was surprised by how many different images we saw. I saw a little house with a garden just under the left side of the white box that holds the title.  Others saw rivers or thorny branches or nebulas.  Some of us focused on the form of the woman with the uplifted head that his presented in shadow.

One of the things that I appreciated yesterday is that we didn't just talk about spiritual practices that we might use in life and in spiritual direction, but we actually practiced them together. The small group work didn't take up inordinate amounts of time, the way they sometimes can.

I am aware that the practices may not work for everyone, and happily, we will experience a variety of practices. I am about to go walk the labyrinth before it gets too much hotter and then I'll go to a morning worship of centering prayer--all of this before breakfast. I will begin the day nourished in so many ways.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, June 19, 2022:

First Reading: Isaiah 65:1-9

First Reading (Semi-cont.): 1 Kings 19:1-4 [5-7] 8-15a

Psalm: Psalm 22:18-27 (Psalm 22:19-28 NRSV)

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 42--43

Second Reading: Galatians 3:23-29

Gospel: Luke 8:26-39


I must have read this Gospel lesson over a dozen times through the decades, and each time, the depiction of the demons leaps out at me. These demons who drive the man to distraction--he lives naked by the tombs, he is so distracted. These demons who disturb the neighbors who try to contain the man and his demons by chaining him and guarding him. I recognize these demons!

I also recognize our helplessness in dealing with these demons. We may be horrified at the idea of this man kept in chains, but I suspect that future generations will be equally appalled at the ways we've dealt with troubling humans, or refused to deal with them.

Now, let me stress that I read the demons as metaphorical. I've met people who believe in literal demon possession, and some of them make a compelling case. But in the end, I agree with those who say that ancient people couldn't explain mental illnesses any other way. I've also met plenty of mentally ill people who would make me believe in demon possession, if I didn't have a medical explanation.

I don't want to spend much time writing about true mental illness, but instead about the demons who possess us all. Who among us hasn't spent an anxious night worrying about things we couldn't control (finances, our loved ones, our health)? Perhaps we fall into a sinister pattern of sleepless nights being haunted by the world's worries. Most of us have probably gone through periods where we come perilously close to wrecking our relationships with our loved ones because of our obsessive worries about them.

If only our inner demons could be driven out into a swine herd, or whatever the modern equivalent would be. If only we could be free from those wretches of worry that wake us at night and won't let us sleep for fear of all that could go wrong.

Christians have thousands of years of thought and practice in dealing with the demons that torment us. For some, it's prayer. For others, it might be working with the poor and the destitute. We might meditate to still our minds. We might need a healing service or a laying on of hands. We also shouldn't discount the powers of modern medicine, which offers us a powerful arsenal in our attempts to manage our minds:  therapists, medications, mind-body practices, and so on.

God needs us to allow our demons to be sent into swine. God has creative work and play for us to do, and we don't have time for the hissing of demons to distract us.

Back to Southern

On Tuesday, I will head back up I 95 and eventually end up in Columbia SC at Southern Seminary. Even though I finished my certificate in spiritual direction back in January, we've all been invited back to have an alumni experience. I don't know if we'll get this invitation every time; we got it this time, in part, because we had had so few on ground intensive because of the pandemic.

In January, I spent some time thinking about how much had changed in the two years since I had last been to campus. This morning I am thinking of how much has changed in the last five and a half months since I've been to campus. Most of the changes will be for the better in the long run, I think (and hope). But it is an astonishing amount of change in just a few months.

In early January, I still had a full-time job with the reason to think that the job would be ending. A month later that job had ended. In early January, I still owned a house in a flood zone, although I was hopeful that I was about to sell it. Indeed I did come back and sell the house just before losing my job. In early January, I still had not taken my second semester of seminary classes, and now I have. Happily, I am still enjoying them.

The most unexpected change is my spouse‘s outlook.  Back in January, I assumed he would never consider leaving Florida. He might want to move a bit north in Florida, but he had repeatedly told me he never wanted to leave. And now his mood is different. While he will still feel sad about leaving, the cheaper cost of living in other states is more attractive than the more expensive warmer weather of Florida.  We've spent the last several months thinking about dozens of possible housing adventures. In the next few weeks, as our plans solidify, I'll say more about the next housing adventure which will not be in Florida.

The weather forecast for Columbia SC for this week reminds me that South Florida summers are fairly mild. I am leaving daytime highs of 92 for daytime highs of 106. Of course the times that the warm weather in South Florida bothered me most was in October, when it was still 92 in the daytime, or February, which has more very warm days than cool days.

Let me wrap up this blog post so I can finish some packing for the trip ahead and continue packing for the larger adventure ahead.

Trinity Sunday, Pride Sunday

Today, some of us will be observing the festival Sunday that celebrates the mysteries of the Trinity:  3 gods in one.  Some of us will celebrate Pride Sunday.  People like me will think about the juxtapositions of these celebrations.

Many of us have brains that prefer neat binaries:  gay or straight, male or female, on and on I could go.  Both Trinity Sunday and Pride events look to burst these binary patterns.  Just as God contains multitudes, so does every human life.

These days, my brain often returns to the theology of Octavia Butler, as expressed in The Parable of the Sower.  Wouldn't it be great to teach/take a seminary class on this book and her larger writing?

Early in the book, we get the theology that undergirds the book:

"All that you touch

You Change.
All that you Change
Changes you.
The only lasting truth
Is Change.
God
Is Change."

While the protagonist of the book develops this theology to the Christianity of her preacher father, the theology has much to offer all of us as we struggle to understand both God and humanity.

Prayer Stations for a Prayer Chapel

Before we get too far away from the Florida-Bahamas Synod Assembly, let me make a blog post about the prayer chapel I created.  Happily, I had taken careful note of how the prayer chapel looked at the 2019 Assembly:  a collection of stations with prompts for prayers and/or meditation.  I  had no desire to stretch anyone's boundaries about what a prayer chapel could be--and I didn't have any boundary stretching ideas myself.

And let me also acknowledge how hard it is to create prayer chapel ambience out of a cavernous ballroom with lights that can't be dimmed.

Below, I'll print the prompt that was on each table, along with pictures--special thanks to my spouse, who made each table look better.

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Prayer Requests

Write your prayer request on a sticky note and add it to the board. Know that we will be lifting up these prayers as we visit this station, and the sticky notes will be brought to the assembly for the closing worship.

As you look at this collection of prayer requests, let us remember to pray for each other and to pray for those who don't have anyone to pray for them. Let us pray for those who can't right their prayer requests on a sticky note and for those prayers too complicated for a sticky note.






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Praying in color

Use the art supplies and colored paper to pray in images and color. Or doodle or sketch or draw lines/curves/shapes.

What is God saying to you? What are you saying to God?



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Anointing oil

The small bowel contains anointing oil. Take a clean cotton swab from the larg bowel and dip it in the oil. You can put your finger on the oil that is on the swab or you can use the cotton swab as a paintbrush. Make the sign of a cross on your hand or your forehead as you ask God to help and guide you.

Or use these words:

holy hands for holy work

receive this oil as a sign of God's love and faithfulness


Please put your used swabs in the basket.







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Light a candle


Take a candle from the basket and switch it on. Add it to the table. As you watch the light of each flickering candle, pray for those in need.

 


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Scrappy beauty

Think of people and situations that you would like God to transform. Write your yearning for transformation on a slip of paper and crumple it. Add it to the glass vase.

Think about how God's light transforms all the various scraps of our lives into a creation of beauty.







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Scripture speaking


Sit with the Bible for a few minutes. Do you have a favorite passage? Perhaps you want to open to a random passage and meditate on what God might be trying to say to you in this passage.

If you are moved to write about the passage, feel free to use the supplies at this table.

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On this table, you will find many items. Which one speaks to you about your current place in your faith journey?

You might try doing some free writing about the object. For the next 3 minutes, write down anything that comes to mind as you look at the object. You might be surprised what your subconscious offers up when you write this way.

Please leave all the objects for others to experience.

 

Low Technology, Low Energy Day

Yesterday I got up to discover that we had no Internet, and that was to be the case all day. In some ways it was strange not to be connected, but in some ways it didn't really matter. Yesterday turned out to be a very low energy day for me. I got shot number two of the shingles vaccine on Wednesday, and as I had been told it might do, the shot hit me very hard yesterday.

I have also been fighting off a cold, I think.  My spouse has been sick for over a week, but my cold seems less severe than his. Or maybe I have allergies. We both did an at home COVID test and it came back negative.

Yesterday, I went to the store early before the hordes of people could get there so that I could get us some more cold medicine, and then a few hours later I went to the library to pick up and enter library a book I had on hold. My spouse decided to take a nap around 11, and I thought about how bone weary tired I was and decided to take a nap too. I woke up a few hours later, stayed awake another few hours, and was back in bed by 5:00 PM. I slept through the night until about 3:00 AM. That's an amazing amount of sleep for me.

Yesterday I also felt chilled and achy, but since I don't feel that way today I'm thinking it was an aftereffect of the vaccine, not an early sign of flu.  I also have been feeling a lack of appetite--another strange symptom for me.

We have gone for over two years now without getting any kind of cold, flu, or other normal sickness. I had forgotten what it is like to feel under the weather and to wonder what might be coming my way. And now of course, the “is it cold or is it COVID?” question hangs over us all.

I do wonder if I would have given in to my urge to sleep if the Internet had been functioning. I do realize how often I use the Internet as distraction. Yesterday I got more sleep and more reading done then in a normal day. Some of that was due to my tiredness because of the vaccine and fighting off a cold, but some of it was because I didn't have the distractions of my online life.

It's good to shake up my routine, but at the same time I'm happy to have my Internet back. Now to catch up on everything that I had to let go yesterday.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, June 12, 2022:


First Reading: Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31

Psalm: Psalm 8

Second Reading: Romans 5:1-5

Gospel: John 16:12-15


This week's Gospel reminds us of the mystical approach of John. I find the language almost tough to wade through. It makes me turn to the other readings for today. And I find a mystical theme running through all the readings today.

The chapter from Romans reminds us of our calling. Talk about suffering and endurance and building character--that's the kind of talk we might expect on a Sunday morning! Yet the more I read it, the more it seems to take on a mystical character too. We don't know exactly how these transformations will come, but come they will.

The verse from Proverbs is even more curious. It is here where we meet the first of God's creations, Wisdom. Imagine what a different understanding of the Trinity we might have had, had our early Church Fathers paid more attention to this passage. Wisdom seems to have existed long before the Holy Spirit, who seems a late addition to the Divine Package. What if the three parts of the trinity had been Creator, Wisdom, and Savior? Would there have been a 20th century Pentecostal movement if we had ignored these passages about the Holy Spirit, in the same way we ignore the passages about Wisdom most of the year? To be fair, some of the more Orthodox churches do embrace this Wisdom aspect of God more fully than we do here in the West.

In truth, there are many aspects of God that we could focus upon, but we don't. If you read the whole Bible, you get glimmers of the maternal side of God. How would life be different if we prayed to Our Mother, Who Art in Heaven? There are passages of the lamenting of a God who seems to be absent, and I understand why we don't come back to those throughout the year. We yearn for a God who is powerful.

We live in scary times. We see politicians still unable to act. We yearn for someone of true vision and stellar character, someone to lead us out of this morass. We forget that we might have one of those people in our very midst.

In this time after Pentecost, let us turn back to our roots. Let us remember the promises that Jesus made. Let us remember the possibility of transformation.

Those promises still hold true. The spirit of Truth leads us. Granted, it's easy to be led astray, to be seduced by the passions of the world. But we know our mission--Martin Luther said that faith should move our feet. Where do your feet want to move today?

Pentecostal Visits on Pentecost

Our Synod Assembly was held In a conference area like the ones that so many big hotels seem to have:  huge rooms with collapsible walls so that many groups can meet throughout the conference area in various configurations. This was one of the first assemblies where I was aware of the group meeting next door. They seemed to have loud music at times when we were trying to hear various speakers.  When we had meditative moments before and during worship, loud music thumped from next door.

Midway through our meeting, we learned the group next door was a group of Spanish speaking women gathered to pray. Clearly, their prayer style is different than our Lutheran assembly prayer style. Knowing that fact however made it easier to be patient.

Our closing worship was on Pentecost Sunday, and for most of the service it seemed like a regular high church holiday:  special robes, special paraments, special music. But at the end of this service, a truly special event happened.

The leader of the group next door came to address our assembly. First she spoke to our Bishop. He is bilingual, and she only spoke Spanish. When she addressed the whole group, one of the younger women translated.

Many of us were moved by this expression of Christian unity. Their faith tradition is very different from ours.  it was a group of Pentecostal women, Latinas, and we were a group of high church Lutherans. The woman from next door pointed out that the wall that separated us was the only wall that was moveable. They had spent time in their assembly with their hands pressed to the movable wall as they prayed for us and the larger world. We had spent time in our chairs praying for them and the larger world.

Will any transformations happen because of this encounter? It's hard not to think of all the gun violence across multiple cities in the US yesterday and feel hopeful.

And yet I think back to the first Pentecost, those disciples with no reason to feel hopeful about the future of the Roman Empire. Then the Holy Spirit came, and they were transformed, and the world was transformed.

The 21st century will offer many opportunities for transformation. Let us hope that the Holy Spirit swooshes through the land, giving all of us a vision for how life might be better and the energy to make it so.

Pentecost Potential

I feel like I've fallen out of time, more so than usual. I am away at Synod Assembly, and while our Florida Bahamas Synod (ELCA) Assembly has been rather ordinary, other synods have not been.  I still have a cast on my arm, which means I'm not sleeping well.  And we're getting ready for a move later this summer, which makes it hard in so many ways to live in the present.

It's a strange time in the life of the nation to come to Pentecost again. I am hollowed out and exhausted. I've been hollowed out and exhausted before, of course. But my low points rarely intersect with a national low point, the way they are now. We are at a time of frequent mass shootings and global pandemic and higher inflation than we've had in decades.

Pentecost visions are more important than ever, aren't they?

The festival day of Pentecost reminds us that great things can happen when the Holy Spirit takes hold of a community. If we need a reminder of that, all we need to do is to look at the state of the church on Pentecost morning, and then think about the spread of Christianity in the decade after Pentecost.

And Christianity was spread by regular people--sure, there were some superstars like Paul. But Paul came and went, and then regular people had to keep the vision alive.

They did.  They kept the vision alive and expanded on it.   Pentecost both celebrates that fact and invites us to welcome the Holy Spirit in to our modern communities.

Pentecost reassures us with the mystical promise of the Spirit. We do not have to know what we are doing; we just need to be open to the movement of the Spirit. Pentecost promises daring visions; we don’t have to know how we’re going to accomplish them. God will take care of that.

God became incarnate to prepare humans to carry on the work of Kingdom creation. And Pentecost reminds us of our job description, to let the Holy Spirit blow into our hollowed out spaces and to fill us with the fire to dream and the resources to bring our visions to life.

Stormy Weather, Peaceful Synod Assembly (at least in Florida)

 Early this morning, I made this Facebook post:

"Perhaps I should be sleeping at 3am. But this resort hotel bed is too soft, and the dark sky apocalyptic as this tropical blob approaches. For the past hour, it has sounded as if energetic people above us are shoving furniture across the floor, but I think that's how thunder sounds on the 8th floor of a strange resort in the unreal city of Orlando."

And then I got up to check various weather sites, even though I was already fairly sure what those sites would say.   I have decided that I'm too sore to try to sleep again.  My new wrist bone aches, but so do my older, arthritic feet.

I made a cup of coffee in the 1 cup Kuerig machine, which seems to require a lot of force to operate with my left hand.  I miss the peaceful process of my larger machine at home:  the pouring of the water, the scooping of the fragrant coffee, the gurgle of the machine, the smell of fresh coffee filling the room. 

It was strange, making our way across the state of Florida with a tropical storm approaching.  Most of the day was overcast, but occasionally, we'd see sun and blue skies.  We're here for a church synod assembly, but the conference center is at the back of the property with no covered way of getting there.  So we brought extra shoes, and I'm carrying a plastic bag with me, in case I need to wrap my cast.

I've never watched a tropical storm above ground level before.  Our hotel window faces east, and it's been entrancing to watch the sky above the scrub grass and pines, both during the afternoon and overnight.  But it's been disconcerting to be in a conference center with 3 large groups and several smaller ones meeting--our state's COVID numbers are on the rise, and meeting in person in a place where can't sread out doesn't seem wise to me.

I plan to do what I did yesterday:  drop in and out of Assembly sessions and wear a mask when I'm there.

Prayer Chapels, Synod Assemblies, and Storms

Soon we will put the last load of stuff in the car and head off to Synod Assembly.  Our assembly at the Florida Bahamas Synod is likely to be very dull, compared to other Synod assemblies that are happening. I am thinking of the Sierra Pacific Assembly, which is breaking so many hearts in so many ways. This year I am grateful for a dull Assembly. Most years, I am grateful for a dull Assembly.

A few months ago, I got it from call from the assistant to the Bishop of my Synod, who asked if I would do the Prayer Chapel. That means being in charge of setting up prayer stations, and I was happy to say yes to the request. I'm headed there not being sure of this space but my stations are flexible. Because it is a dull assembly year, with no election of the Bishop and no social statements guaranteed to provoke discussion, and because it is held over Pentecost, it won't be a high traffic time for a Prayer Chapel. In short, it's a good year to be the one in charge, and it's my first time in charge so I'm glad it's a low key year.

We also have a tropical storm bearing down on our state, so I'm not sure what that will do to attendance. We are leaving early in the morning so that I have time to set up the prayer Chapel. I don't know what decisions others will make.

We will only be gone about 60 hours, but we have packed a lot of stuff. It's not an assembly that has much in the way of free food, and I don't think the hotel has a free breakfast bar.  We're taking food so that we don't have to buy a lot of meals. In the past, at more well attended assemblies, it's been almost impossible to get a meal in the hotel restaurants because they get so crowded with Assembly participants.

It's also a time of rising COVID numbers, so I feel some hesitation about being in big groups. I am double boosted, and I'll have a mask, but I am still wary.

I just walked outside, both to get some masks from the car and to get a wider sense of the sky. There's been some rain overnight, but right now we are not deluged. Hopefully we'll get out of here ahead of the weather.  I'm glad we no longer own our house in a flood zone. I can leave our condo and not be worried about flooding--that would not have been the case with our old house.

Meditation on this Sunday's Gospel: Pentecost

 The readings for Sunday, June 5, 2022:

First Reading: Acts 2:1-21

First Reading (Alt.): Genesis 11:1-9

Psalm: Psalm 104:25-35, 37 (Psalm 104:24-34, 35b NRSV)

Second Reading: Romans 8:14-17

Second Reading (Alt.): Acts 2:1-21

Gospel: John 14:8-17 [25-27]

It's interesting to think how different churches celebrate Pentecost. Some churches will be stressing the rushing wind and the coming of the Spirit; perhaps parishioners will be exhorted to become more Spirit-filled. Some churches will be focused upon the mission of the early church, and I predict parishioners will be asked to think about the mission of the contemporary Church, both global and local.

This is one of those years when I'm relieved to turn my attention away from Acts, to think about the Gospel of John. I want something a bit more comforting, like John, not readings that make me feel inadequate, like Acts. I know it's called the Book of Acts, not the Book of Relaxation, not the Book of Taking a Nap. Still, some years I find all the energy in that book to be a bit draining. Some years, it all seems a bit loud, a bit energetic, a bit amplified.

John's Gospel reading for Pentecost has a different emphasis. Throughout the whole fourteenth chapter of John, Jesus promises that we're not going to be left alone. Jesus must know how hard it will be for his disciples; it's been somewhat easy for them as they sojourn with their Savior. But once he's gone, how will they carry on?

Once again, we have Jesus saying he will pray for the disciples. He tells the disciples that they will have everything they need as they go out into the world. He suggests that the new incarnation of himself/God/Spirit will dwell inside us.

I feel like this Gospel lesson peers straight into my soul, my tired, overstretched soul. Jesus reminds us that we are not alone. The verse after the Gospel ends has Jesus promise, "I will not leave you orphaned; I will come to you" (John 14: 18). That's the Good News of this Gospel: we are not alone. We do not have to go about our Pentecostal mission alone. Jesus reminds us that it's a team effort: "Whatever you ask in my name, I will do it, that the Father may be glorified in the Son; if you ask anything in my name, I will do it" (John 14: 13-14). Jesus reminds us of all that we can accomplish, if we would but call on God.

I love the way the Gospel ends, with these images of all these incarnations of the Divine, swirling in the world around us, gathering within us. This Gospel gives me hope that I will be enough. It's unlike some of those other readings that make me feel so inadequate. Speak in tongues? I can hardly get my laundry done in any given week. Help in the Kingdom mission of redeeming the world? Who will do the grocery shopping?

In our Gospel today, Jesus reminds us that we are enough because we're not all alone. It's a message that's so unlike the messages beamed to us from the larger culture in which so many of us live our daily lives. Our larger culture does not treasure teamwork. Our popular culture likes the larger-than-life leader, the one who goes it alone.  Don't believe me? watch T.V. for a week, watch politics, go to the movies--it's rare to see a team working together for the greater good. 

Jesus reminds us again and again that we are more than adequate. We see disciples that are gloriously human in many of the ways that we are too, and Jesus takes a small band of these flawed humans and changes the world as he sends them out to work in small groups. Jesus can take our overscheduled selves and transform us, so that we love each other, his ultimate dream for us.