Christ Dwelling and Delighting in Us--a Prayer/Affirmation

On one of our walks during Music Week, my Florida friend gave me a prayer/affirmation that she often uses, and then she sent me a link.

Here's the prayer/affirmation:

"I am one in whom Christ dwells and delights. I live in the strong and unshakeable Kingdom of God.  The kingdom is not in trouble and neither am I."

James Bryan Smith is the one who gets the credit.  He talks about how the sentences came to him in The Next Right Thing podcast done by Emily P. Freedman:

"The story isn’t as great as I like, I should probably make up a better one. In truth, i happened accidentally. I was teaching the first phrase, “I am one in whom Christ dwells and delights” came about when I was teaching a college class, undergraduate class and I was trying to communicate with the students something very important about Apostle Paul. That is the Apostle Paul in his epistles used the phrase, In Christ or In Christ in us by my count around 89 times. That’s a lot. So, I was stunned at the sheer size, the amount at the time. Wow, if Paul uses that phrase and self identifies as being in Christ or Christ in us, then that should be the dominant way we understand our identity as Christians. So, I was up in front of the classroom. I had written 89 times on the board and I’m talking about all of this stuff. I said at the end of the day, folks, as Christians, have to understand we are people in whom Christ dwells and to the class as I was saying those words, just like your listeners, there was a student in the front row, his name is Chris, and I’m still in contact with Chris, he is a doctor now. But, he raised his hand and asked if I could say that again. And I said, we are people in whom Christ dwells and I could tell that when I said the phrase the phrasing had some spiritual energy and I believe it does because first of all, it is biblical and it’s dealing with truth that we didn’t just make up as power of positive thinking. It’s actually rooted in biblical reality. So, I think that certain words and phrases have that kind of power. Dallas Willard said that he prayed for those kinds of words and phrases because he knew the power. Dallas had so many phrases like that. They are so quotable.  Dallas said, quit quoting me. I said I can’t say it any better."

I like the idea of praying for the right words and phrases.  Smith says, "Speaking of writers, I think it was Mark Twain that said, The difference between goodbwords and the right word is the difference between a lightning bug and lightning. The idea of well, it’s a good word, but it’s like POW!, like lightning, it has life to it, when the words come together just the right way."

You can listen and/or download a transcript here.

Music Week Day 1: The Contrasts and the Contradictions

 The last 24 hours have been full of contrasts.  On the one hand, it was the first full day of  Music Week at Lutheridge:

--Monday began with a long walk with the S. Florida church friend who is staying with us for the week.  Up and down hills, but I didn't really notice them because the conversation was deep and meaningful.

--Morning worship was also deep and meaningful.  I LOVED this prayer of the day:  "On the night he was betrayed, Jesus took bread, not revenge.  He offered bread to feed and to forgive.  On the night he was betrayed, Jesus took a basin of water to sooth [sic], liberate, and heal.  Help us, so washed and fed, to do the same."

--My inner English major was intrigued by the above spelling error, which made me think of soothsaying, which I continued to think about all day.

--My inner English major also was there for Bible study, which will take us to some villains in the Bible.  We began with one of the biggest, the serpent in the Garden of Eden.  One participant talked about the devil possessing the serpent, which sent me to the text, which reminded me that it's not in the text.  Ah, Milton, how your version has taken over everything we think we know about the story--which is what I said, in more non-English-major accessible form.

--One of our last questions for Bible study was "What does the serpent get out of this?"  I keep misspelling serpent, and this morning, I thought about serpent and repent, and now I want to write a poem, "The serpent repents."

--I was there for general choir rehearsal.  From the very beginning, this group can sing.  They sounded amazing, like they had been practicing for weeks, instead of just beginning together.

--The director has interesting ways of describing what he wants:  "You just sang the color dusty rose.  But it was the dusty rose of a piece of tuille or a curtain so faded you can see through it.  Now try it as a deeper rose color."  I immediately thought of a creative writing class idea, having students write a description and me bringing in different fabrics and colors and saying, "Now write it this way." 

--We had good meals together at our house.  The prep work was easy because I did most of it in advance.  It's becoming clear that I have prepared too much food--happily, much of it is freezable.

All of yesterday happened against a back drop of World Cup drama, both the games themselves, and the rumors of a phone call pressuring the officials to change a decision about red cards.  And then, this morning, the U.S. team lost anyway.

I got up this morning to news not only of that sports/political development/scandal, but also of the one in Maine.  If I left that sentence standing by itself, would future me remember which scandal I'm referring to?  In the interest of history, let me note that there are new rape charges against the Democratic candidate for Senate.  The charges that were already known (inappropriate sexting, inappropriate use of force against girlfriends) by the time of the primary would have been more than enough to disqualify him in the not-so-distant past.  Sigh.

I don't have a pithy way to end this post.  After all, if we're lucky, every given day is full of these contrasts if we just know to look:  deep friendship and deep spirituality and the farcical elements of modern life particularly the political bits and pieces, along with song and sustenance of all sorts.

The Third Testament

I found it interesting that in the same week I wrote about being the fifth Gospel in this blog post, I saw a Facebook post about how we are the third Testament.  I saw it in a post by Wil Gafney, who credits Bishop Yvette Flunder.

As with being the Fifth Gospel, I find the idea that human lives are a walking testimony or history an intriguing one.  I've said/written it before, in many a setting, that for many people, they will learn more about Christianity from watching believers and their behavior than more traditional ways, like growing up in the faith or attending worship and/or classes. Our behavior needs to match what we say we believe, or people simply are not going to ask us to know more.

The Fifth Gospel

A seminary classmate/friend posted an idea that a spiritual mentor passed to her:  "You are the fifth gospel."  It was such an interesting idea that I wanted to post it here.

Many of us know something about the 4 gospels.  We may not realize how long after the life of Christ they were written; Paul's letters were written before the gospels.  The gospels were written when the first believers realized that Christ would not be coming back quite as quickly as they had thought and maybe they should start to preserve the teachings/wisdom/insight of the disciples before the last ones died and/or before the ones who learned directly from those disciples died.

So what does it mean to be the fifth gospel?  It can mean so many things.  Like a gospel, we bring good news.  People might turn to us to learn something about what it means to be a believer and/or to learn about Jesus, another purpose of a gospel.

I've said/written it before, in many a setting, that for many people, they will learn more about Christianity from watching believers and their behavior than more traditional ways, like growing up in the faith or attending worship and/or classes.  Our behavior needs to match what we say we believe, or people simply are not going to ask us to know more.

Teaching from the Buddhist Monks Who Are Walking for Peace

Like many, I've been moved by the Buddhist monks who are walking from Texas to D.C. for peace.  I even talked about them in a sermon in early January, as something giving me hope.

Today they'll be at the National Cathedral, and I'm not sure of their time in D.C. beyond that.  It's hard for me to imagine any officials from the federal government meeting with them, the way that state governing people along the way have, but I'm willing to be happily surprised.

In this post on Diana Butler Bass's Substack, she gives the monks' answer to why they are walking.  I want to make sure I have this, should I want to find the words later, so let me post them here:

"Some people may doubt that our walk can bring peace to the world — and we understand that doubt completely. But everything that has ever mattered began with something impossibly small. A single seed. A first mindful breath. A quiet decision to take one step, then another.

Our walking itself cannot create peace. But when someone encounters us — whether by the roadside, online, or through a friend — when our message touches something deep within them, when it awakens the peace that has always lived quietly in their own heart — something sacred begins to unfold.

That person carries something forward they didn’t have before, or perhaps something they had forgotten was there. They become more mindful in their daily life — more present with each breath, more aware of each moment. They speak a little more gently to their child. They listen more patiently to their partner. They extend kindness to a stranger who needed it desperately.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

And that stranger, touched by unexpected compassion, carries it forward to someone else. And it continues — ripple by ripple, heart by heart, moment by moment — spreading outward in ways none of us will ever fully witness, creating more peace in the world than we could possibly measure.

This is our contribution — not to force peace upon the world, but to help nurture it, one awakened heart at a time. Not the Walk for Peace alone can do this, but all of us together — everyone who has been walking with us in spirit, everyone who feels something stir within them when they encounter this journey, everyone who decides that cultivating peace within themselves matters.

One step becomes two. Two become a thousand. A thousand become countless. And slowly, gently, persistently — not through grand gestures but through ten thousand small acts of love — we can help make the world more peaceful.

This is our hope. This is our offering. This is why we walk.

May you and all beings be well, happy, and at peace."

Nuggets of Inspiration from Facebook Posts: C. S. Lewis on Saints and Theologian Ruben Alves on Hope

Every day I worry that I waste too much time zipping around to Internet sites, and I always feel I spend too much time on social media.  But each day, I get a bit of inspiration, a bit of uplift that keeps me hopeful that it's not a complete waste of time.  I've pasted some samples below.

And it's also worth remembering that I've always wasted some time:  trashy books, afternoon talk shows like Oprah, gossiping with colleagues.  It's good to remember that they weren't all complete wastes of time.  And it's probably unrealistic to expect myself to be productive every waking hour.

A Facebook friend who is a female pastor made this post:

As I drove to my last radiation treatment this morning and listened to the news about the escalation of the war in Ukraine and Russia, I remembered C.S. Lewis words, “How monotonously alike all the great tyrants and conquerors have been: how gloriously different are the saints." And here, I don't think he's talking about the saints with a capital S, but those who persist in the small, everyday acts of courage, hope, and kindness. These are the things that make for peace and that will, in the end, erase every memory of the great unoriginal tyrants.

A Facebook friend who is a female pastor made this post (completely unrelated to the above quote):

An Advent thought from Brazilian theologian Ruben Alves: “Hope is that presentiment that the imagination is more real, and reality less real, than we had thought. It is the sensation that the last word does not belong to the brutality of facts with their oppression and repression. It is the suspicion that reality is far more complex than realism would have us believe, that the frontiers of the possible are not determined by the limits of the present, and that miraculously and surprisingly, life is readying the creative event that will open the way to freedom and resurrection.”

Prayers for Election Day

In 2016, I made this Facebook post on election morning, and it's a sentiment I still believe:  "For those of us feeling fretful on this election day, I say, "Be not afraid!" We are a nation of quilters, adept at taking frayed scraps and turning them into comforters. We are a nation of tinkerers, who can take metal scraps and turn them into cars and computers. We will be OK."

Every day is a good day for prayer; election days are good days for multiple prayers.

I've written election day prayers before.  They don't change much.  I've voted in elections that didn't hold much promise of anything new, regardless of which man (gendered language intentional) won.  I've voted in more than one election which seemed like the most consequential one of our lifetime.  And here we are, voting again in an election that might be the most consequential, or one where we look back with bitter tears aghast at how much worse the U.S. situation has gotten.

Here are prayers that I've written on past election days:

Prayer 1: Just and merciful God, on this day help us to be wise as we cast our ballots. Keep us from the dangers of despair. Remind us of the times when the oppressed have been set free, and help us to be part of that process. Give us the courage to do what must be done.

Prayer 2: Generous God, as we head to the polls, help us stay mindful of those who have gone before us, those who didn't have the privileges that we enjoy. Guide us as we choose our leaders. Help us to discern which candidates will help bring to fruition the world that you envision for us.

Prayer 3: Triune God, remind us that no matter what happens today, the sun will rise tomorrow. Remind us of all the leaders who seemed a disastrous pick at the time but who went on to bring about important changes that we'd have never dreamed possible. Remind us of the leaders with hard hearts that softened. Remind us that you are a God who can make all sorts of dreams come true. And remind us that we have a part to play too.

Forgetting Hildegarde, Dreaming of a Breviary Project

As I've been puttering this morning, I thought, I should write a poem with the title "Hildegarde of Bingen Forgets Her Feast Day."  The poem could go in several possible directions:  she forgets because she is busy, she forgets because it no longer matters, she forgets because she has dementia.

I didn't quite forget her feast day, but I did remember later than I'd like.  The poem could have any saint for that matter, except that I don't usually forget the feast days of other important female saints:  Brigid and Julian and Lucia.  Of course, this short list makes me think that I probably forget many a feast day.

I also found myself thinking that I'd like to create a breviary (perhaps the wrong word, but I like it) of a collection of feast days that are meaningful to me and other sorts of remembrances.  I'd like it to include prayer and visual art.  Poems would be a wonderful addition.  I'd like it to be organized by calendar day, so I could open it in the morning, and the date would be on the top of the page.

I probably have more of a head start on this project than I know--I've written 16 years of blog posts.  By now, having to search the blog is cumbersome.  A separate book with a spine that I could consult each day would be beautiful.  I think others would like it too.  And if it already exists, that's OK.  The world seems to be open to multiple versions of devotional books.

If I want the book to contain my art, that's where I'm short.  And reproducing art would/could be much more expensive, which might be important to realize from the publishing side.

I don't have time to think about this possibility too much this term.  But I did want to capture it for later.  I had the idea just 10 minutes ago when rinsing out my oatmeal bowl, and it's really tugging at me.

Friday Fragments: Quilt Projects, Camp Projects, Home Projects

This morning, I've done my work out of order.  I've been doing grading, and now I can't remember ever having had anything worth blogging about.  Let me put down some assorted thoughts:

--At the end of spring Quilt Camp, I put together smaller pieces of fabric by size.  I had a vision of putting together a quilt of random pieces.  It's not exactly worked out that way, but I'm pleased with how it's going:

--I love having a small project to work on in the evening, but it's quickly becoming a large project.

--This morning, I woke up thinking that I should spend the next few weeks sewing together the Log Cabin squares that I spent much of 2023 assembling.  The picture below is from spring 2023:

Then I can have it ready to assemble and quilt at Quilt Camp in November.  Later today I'll put them on the bed to see how many I have.  I'm fairly sure I remember that I have enough for our queen size bed.

--We took the car in for an oil change yesterday, and came home not only with the oil changed, but also with bushings and a control arm for the steering and suspension.  We could have put off this repair for a few months, but when it fails, it will be "catastrophic," according to the mechanic.  Well, this is why we save money, I suppose.

--Today we go to pick up the last of the furniture that we bought a few weeks ago.  We went in to get a kitchen table, and we left with two new chairs--well, we left having ordered them in a fabric that we hope will complete the living room look.  I've been very pleased with the small kitchen table, which can be expanded when we have guests:

--Yesterday we ate a delicious meal at that table, with the window open, and gentle music playing.  We could hear the patter of rain, and it was so delightful, even as we were waiting for the summons to come back and get the car.

--Today is the last day of summer camp at Lutheridge.  I still have dreams of being a director of adult programming at a camp like Lutheridge.  I have memories of Lutheridge summers from years ago, where there was more programming for adults.  Could we ever go back to that?  There are lots of folks in work places where they can't get away for adult programming during the school year (like teachers).  It would be fun to offer Quilt Camp or Create in Me or Wild Women or any other number of programs in the summer.  From what I can tell, there is space for adults in terms of lodging in the summer.  In terms of program space, it would require some creative thinking.  I'm putting this idea here so that I remember it in the future.

--It seems like we just got started, having counselors arrive and then campers.  And now, it's done.  One more summer complete.

--We've had people at camp this week doing burly, lumberjack kind of things.  Some trees needed to be cut into pieces, like the one that fell down last week and took some power lines down with them.  One tree by the lake has been down for over a year, maybe even two or three.  Why cut it apart?

--I did get a poem idea, when I said that men with chainsaws have a different idea of forest management than I do.  I thought this might be an interesting idea to have Noah's wife contemplate.  Or maybe I'll do several approaches and see which one I like best.  Hmmm.

The Day After Pentecost

This morning I'm thinking about the morning after Pentecost--not so much my day after Pentecost, but that day after the first Pentecost of rushing wind and tongues of flame.  When the disciples woke up the next morning, what were their thoughts?  What happened on day 2?

Acts 2 gives us a general idea in very broad strokes:  42 They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. 43 Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. 44 All the believers were together and had everything in common. 45 They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. 46 Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, 47 praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.

But I wonder about the individual who was there:  the disciple, the woman follower, a member of the crowd.  Did they wake up on the morning after and think, what happened yesterday?

As I was getting ready for Sunday worship yesterday, I thought about past Pentecosts, about years when we had a crew of confirmands and years we didn't.  I thought about people who might be ordained.  I thought about banners we created at my Florida church years ago and wondered if Trinity Lutheran would be using them.  They lasted longer than I thought they might--they were made out of tissue paper and fabric and glue.

We had fewer worshippers yesterday at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee, where I am the Synod Appointed Minister, but we did have two visitors.  They were people from the community, so perhaps they will be back.  Our worship yesterday wasn't different from our normal worship, so it's not like visiting a church on Christmas Eve or Easter, where you don't get a very representative experience.

Yesterday when I got to Faith Lutheran, I was alone in the sanctuary.  I was struck by the simple Pentecost beauty of the space:

The windows are perfect for Pentecost!  I started my SAM experience almost a year ago, on the Sunday after Pentecost, and one of the first things my spouse and I noticed was the windows.  It's unusual to see church windows that are just one color of glass like the ones above.  We talked about how they would be perfect for Pentecost.

I'm glad to still be here, so that I could see for myself.

Communal Poetry Project

 Two years ago, I was part of a seminary class that studied Jericho Brown's duplexes.  As part of my final project, I wrote some duplexes of my own.  I went through my poetry notebooks looking for lines that didn't make it into a poem, and I created a Word document of them.  I ended up with lots of abandoned lines in a big document, and I return to the document periodically when I need inspiration.

This week, I used those lines in a different way.  I needed something different to do with my English 100 class.  I decided to celebrate National Poetry Month with a communal poetry project.  Along the way, I talked about how doing different kinds of writing can make us feel refreshed when we return to academic writing, so it wasn't only a diversion.

I took the document that I created a few weeks ago as part of my internship.  I was trying to create a Mad Libs kind of thing to prompt people to tell their spiritual stories, and I modified it for the poetry project.  I knew that these students needed something to get their creative ideas flowing--or to have something to use in case they didn't get any creative ideas at all.  I created a fill in the blank document that would prompt them to make a list of nouns, verbs, emotions, and then a different fill in the blank document with words missing from lines from famous poems ("Hope is a thing with ______"), hymns ("Oh for a thousand tongues to _____") and pop songs ("You turn me round and round like a _______").

Before class, I cut up the lines from my abandoned lines document and put them in a bowl.  We had a time of taking those lines and adding lines.  If nothing came to them, they could use one of the items from the Mad Libs documents.  At one point, I collected slips with my line and the student line and gave them to a different student to write a new line.  Students ended up with 9-15 slips of paper on their individual tables.

Before class, I had rearranged the tables (I love a classroom with tables that are mobile!).  On the back tables, I taped blank paper, which created 9 blank documents for my analogue cut and paste.  I brought tape with me to class, and I gave students a piece of tape and had them go tape a slip to the longer sheet of paper.  It wasn't as chaotic as I thought it might be. 

We ended up with pieces of paper that were fairly full, but still had space.  I mention this because I wasn't sure how many blank sheets to create.  And as students walked back and forth, they had plenty of room.  Ten students participated, so I'm not sure how this would work with larger groups.  I'd probably have a few more blank documents.

I then read each of the communal poems out loud.  It was interesting to see how the lines spoke to each other.  I talked about the kinds of academic papers we might write if we were asked to write about poems like these.  I also asked about their process.  Only three students read the slips that were already there as they thought about where to tape their own slips.  The process for most students was fairly random, and I was amazed at how the poems held together.

At the end of class, I had students write about the process to tell me what they thought.  Three students said that their favorite part was when I read each poem; that made me happy, because I felt a little unsure of that part.  And the best part--one student talked at great length about how amazing the experience was, the whole process.  Hurrah!

Earlier this week, I wrote a blog post confessing that I was failing National Poetry Month.  Yesterday, I feel like I succeeded.

Preservation through Prose: Spiritual Memoir for Yourself or for Valued Elders

Instead of doing a big post looking back at the Create in Me retreat, I am much more likely this week to write a series of smaller posts.  This morning, we are hoping that our bathroom remodel gets underway, and I still have to go to campus this week.  In short, it's not going to be a week of lots of downtime.  I'm hoping for some downtime in May.

But before we get too far away from the retreat, let me remember my writing workshop on Saturday, a workshop called Preservation in Prose, a spiritual autobiography/memoir workshop.  It was a delightful group, even though there were only two people in addition to me and a person who came late.  And even more delightful--I got some writing done too.

What we did is adaptable for individual writers and for larger groups.  It's good to capture our own stories, and it's also a way to capture the stories of other people who aren't as interested in writing.

I began with a collection of objects on the table:  quilt squares (one old and tattered, one a take-away from Quilt Camp), a nail, a game piece, an Easter bunny sticker, a Scrabble tile--in short, anything I could find on various tables at the Create in Me retreat, plus some goodies from an Easter Egg hunt bag of treats prepared for kids.  We each chose one and wrote about why we chose it.  Then we discussed.

We moved to a different kind of imaginative writing.  First we imagined ourselves twenty to thirty years from now.  It's a variation of asking my students to imagine themselves as 80 year olds.  I had them write a letter from their older selves to the people they are now.  Then we did the same thing in reverse.  Have your late adolescent self write to the person you are now.

Then we made some lists like this one:

6 natural objects

6 humanmade objects

6 ordinary actions

6 art materials

We talked about metaphor, simile, and imagery--how can our concept of God change if we compare God to something on the list?  

From there, we filled in this list on one side of the handout that I created:

Detail of shift from one season to another ________________________________

Type of noise ________________________________________

Element of nature _____________________________________________

Type of emotion _________________________________________________

Favorite flower __________________________________________________

Something very tiny ________________________________________________

Floor or wall covering ______________________________________________

Something nourishing ________________________________________________

Favorite fruit __________________________________________________________

Element of self-care ______________________________________________

Something only found in a park _________________________________________

Something that oozes _____________________________________________

Favorite treat ________________________________________________________

Something that turns _______________________________________________

Favorite musical instrument ________________________________________________

Something that grinds ___________________________________________________

Something huge_____________________________________________________

Something only found in a big city ____________________________________

Favorite food made for you by an older generation ___________________________

Then we filled out this list with the items from the first list:

--A commitment to God helps us offer __________________________________.

--We yearn for the day when justice covers the earth like ______________________________.

--We are crushed into bits smaller than _____________________ by Powers and Principalities, by the forces of the world, by Satan.

--Truth rolls down through the valley like ________________________________________.

--When I work with God, it’s as if _______________________________________.

--When I think of redemption, I think of __________________________________.

--I first heard God’s call as __________________________________ .

--Evildoers cover their rotten foundations with _____________________________.

--We burn with __________________________________for the vision of new life that Jesus offers.

--I have seen the Holy Spirit moving through world like ________________________________.

--My spiritual history is like ___________________________________________.

--Injustice grinds us like a giant ____________________________________________.

--The____________________________ of justice turns slowly, but the turning does occur.

--The community of God is like _____________________________________________.

--The ___________________________of justice has found fertile soil in my heart.

--A partnership with God is like _________________________________________.

--_________________________grows in the garden of redemption.

My brain created some poem fragments that had nothing to do with the two lists--that was a delight too.

Theologian to the Algorithm: Inspirations from Quilt Camp

On Wednesday morning, I had 15 squares that needed finishing.  This morning, I have 8.  In some ways, I thought I was making more progress.  I thought I might be able to sew the whole top together, but I don't think that will happen this week.  I am fine with that.

I've gotten a chance to connect with old friends.  I've taken a look at their projects and heard about their lives.  That aspect is one of the most important parts of a retreat for me.

I've gotten a lot of sewing done, and a lot of sorting of scraps.  I have an idea for a next project, one that will be easier to pick up and put down as I keep my spouse company while he watches T.V.

I've gotten other work done too, seminary work and teaching work, done with scraps of time here or there.  It's a valuable lesson, and I'm glad that I learned it early--one can accomplish a lot, even if one only has 15 minutes here and 15 minutes there.

I've remembered other truths too, like the calming effect of stitching straight lines by hand.  In our devotional time on Wednesday night, we took a deep breath in and a deep breath out.  We did it a few more times.  I thought, I know the power of deep breathing--why do I always forget to do it?

I've heard from several people who tune in to morning watch, the short devotional that I do each morning.  It's housed on my Florida church's Facebook page, and I link to it on my Facebook page each day.  I started doing it 4 years ago, as various church members were trying to keep our community sane and grounded and connected.  It's good for me, so I keep doing it.  I hear from a few people who leave comments, but there's no way for me to know the ultimate numbers of who views it.  I have never been able to decipher Facebook's metrics, and I'm sure that's by design.  Right now, it's free, so why not continue?

I say free, and I do realize that Facebook gets something out of it, or we wouldn't be able to use the site the way we do.  It's hard for me to imagine that my 12 minutes of devotional time is very useful to the algorithm creators who vacuum up all our data and content, but who knows.

Now I have a vision of generative AI learning by using my morning devotional time, which uses Phyllis Tickle's work in The Divine Hours, which uses an ancient lectionary.  That's me, theologian to AI and the algorithm!

I love retreats for the wide ranging inspirations they provide.  Happily, this one is no different.

Circuit Riders for the Twenty-first Century

Friday night, we had a pastor friend over for cheese and wine and/or hot apple cider.  She owns the cabin beside us, but it's a summer cabin, with no heat, so she was staying up the hill at camp.  We talked about the challenges facing the church.  And yet, because of the challenges, some churches are thinking about exciting options.

One church has created, with the approval of their bishop, a position called a preaching fellow.  Ordained pastors come to preach for 4-12 weeks at a time.  What a cool idea.  The church doesn't have to support a pastor in all the other ways (like insurance and retirement) that can be so unaffordable, and it gets to hear from a wide variety of preachers throughout the year.

Of course, there are other logistics:  where will the pastor stay, for example.  If a church member has room, that could be a possibility.  But if it's a guest bedroom and not a cottage, that could be an issue on either side.  Four to twelve weeks is a long time to have a guest.

Some part of me thinks, wait, didn't the church do this in the past?  Didn't we call these people circuit riders?  Yes, and I wonder why we don't have some version of that today.  I can't be the only one who finds it appealing.

I arealize that there may be few pastors who are in a position to leave their other responsibilities for 4-12 weeks.  But then I thought, what if the larger Church creates an even wider variety of career paths than already exist?  If someone loves to travel and gets energized meeting new people and having new experiences, that person could be a traveling preacher, going places where needed, getting real training to be that kind of preacher--instead of the "You are retired, so you can be an interim" kind of assignment we see now.

I write about new possibilities while feeling sorrow:  we're not doing a great job supporting alternate career paths now.  Woe to the person who feels called to campus ministry or outdoor ministry.  I know that campuses all over the state of Florida are having to cut back on student support because of the state's inane anti-diversity laws.  Wouldn't it be great if the Church was ready with alternate support?  Sadly, I don't see that happening--not yet.   

Holy Spirit, I'm willing to be surprised and trying to stay open!

Winter Weather Inspirations

When we left the house yesterday morning, we thought we'd stay for the covered dish dinner after the worship service at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee.  But as we approached the higher elevations at 7:45 in the morning, snow started to swirl.  On the other side of the mountain, in Bristol, it wasn't snowing, but the forecast called for rain to turn to snow in the early afternoon, so we decided not to stay for lunch.

On our way back across the mountains, I was surprised by how much snow had stuck to the ground and the trees while we were in Bristol.  The roads were still in good shape, wet, yes, but not frozen.  I was glad we had decided to get back earlier than planned.  The higher elevations were under a winter storm warning, so it was good to get up and over earlier rather than later.

Later, I tried to sketch what I had seen. As with last year, the first glance of a winter landscape looks like variations of gray and black to me, but when I look closer, I see lots of browns, along with some deep greens and burgundies.  I continue to try to capture what I see, but both my skills and my art supplies (Copic markers) are inadequate.

In many ways, it's much more fun to take the longer view (and to take more time):

Last week, I tried to sketch the winter sky, as it shifted from blue to snow, and I thought I had failed.  I was happy to look at my sketchbook last night and like this picture more than I remembered:

A goal for my sketching practice for this year is to include snippets of observations that might become poems.  Here's one of my favorites so far (the sketch itself doesn't photograph well):

Squirrels scamper

across the spines of winter trees.

Skeletons of past springs.

Sunset coming, cold winter sky.

Soon I will bundle up and head out for a different kind of inspiration, the kind that comes from a walk in the winter landscape.  It's the kind of day that will be windy and cold all day, so I may as well go early before I can talk myself out of it. 

The Imagination of Jesus

This morning, I stumbled across an interview with Barbara Brown Taylor.  It ran in Issue 97 of Image, which appeared in Summer of 2018.  In some ways, it didn't tell me much that I didn't already know about Taylor's life and her views on the larger world.  But then I got to the end, which blew me away.  I'm putting a paragraph break that didn't exist in the original:

"In my view, Jesus changed lives because he was able to change the way people imagined their lives. He dared them to imagine the stranger as neighbor, the child as teacher, the enemy as mirror, the deity as loving father. He helped them imagine lepers, women, and Roman centurions as exemplars of faith. He asked them to imagine that the most important person at the table was the waiter, and that the end of the line was the place to be. At the moment I cannot think of a single story he told that was not intended to change the way his listeners imagined the world. 

I believe the arts can do the same thing. They can break my heart, rekindle my courage, wreck my prejudice, give me second sight. If they can do it better than most sermons can, then that’s because they give themselves to me unconditionally. They give me the best they’ve got and then they trust me to know what to do with it. If you think about it, that amounts to having huge faith in the power of the human imagination. Of course this artistic channel is also unregulated, and that scares some Christians I know. They worry that the human imagination will cook up something evil or unorthodox, transmitting it in ways that are difficult to police. One of the great things about Image is that it provides readers with a safe-enough meeting place for faith and the arts. If it were entirely safe, it wouldn’t be a powerful place, but since it’s willing to take risks, it is."

Adventures in Gingerbread

My Florida church has their annual gingerbread decorating today.  My pastor has been baking all week, and today people will bring tubs and tubes of icing and other decorations for the festive, post-worship event.  

Note for future project:  why do we make these things post-worship?  Could we create a liturgy that uses gingerbread people?  I bet that we could.  Hmmm.

I knew the event was coming, and I wanted a gingerbread person of my own, not to decorate, but to eat.  I prefer my gingerbread unadorned.  I saw a decorating kit in The Fresh Market:  $12 for 6 gingerbread people and decorations.  I thought that was a bit pricy, and I know how those cookies would taste.  I kept walking.

I was at an upscale bakery later, and they had gingerbread people, mostly unadorned except for some white icing piped around the edges.  I was prepared to buy several, until I asked the price.  "Five dollars," the nice lady said.

Before I could stop myself, I said, "Never mind.  I have molasses at home."  I smiled, so that it might have come across as less rude.

I did not point out that the larger cookies with chocolate chips were half that price.  Maybe molasses is just that expensive.  It was last year, when I decided not to pay $10 for a jar of molasses--not artisanal molasses, just the kind of jar that once cost two or three dollars.  This year, I found that jar for $3.98 and bought it.

Friday afternoon, I made gingerbread people, and I have since been eating gingerbread people.  One of the reasons I thought about paying at the bakery is so that I wouldn't eat 4 dozen gingerbread people mostly by myself.

This year's batch is harder than I would like--you could build a house out of this gingerbread.  It's so hard to get gingerbread right:  hard enough to decorate, but with a soft interior.  I didn't use my family recipe which is in a box somewhere.  That recipe calls for cooking the molasses and the butter together and letting it cool before proceeding.

Let me stop eating gingerbread people and take one last look at my sermon.  Soon it will be time to head across the mountain to Bristol, Tennessee to Faith Lutheran.  There were thunderstorms last night, but at least no snow or ice yet.

John the Baptist Inspired Stanzas

My morning has gotten away from me.  You might say, "There's still plenty of morning--what are you talking about?"  But I do have grading to do, ahead of my deadline to turn in final grades tomorrow.  At some point this morning, the microwave installers will come, so I don't want to get too deeply into writing that takes much thought.

So let me do a poem process writing post here.  Yesterday, these two lines came to me.  Those of you not steeped in feast days or prophets or the early parts of New Testament Gospels may not recognize John the Baptist, whose feast day was on Saturday--shorthand for saying that I wasn't surprised when these lines floated up through my brain late yesterday as I took a walk: I have eaten your locusts and wild honey / and I am not impressed.  

This morning, I got rid of the second line, and now the stanza looks like this:

I have eaten your locusts and wild honey

And created a new menu with the bones

Of all the deer killed by carelessness.

And then I wanted to write a bit more, but I wasn't sure what.  I peered into my dirty coffee cup and the next stanza emerged:

I drink my wine out of a dirty

coffee mug and bathe in the creek

that comes from the cooling

ponds at the nuclear plant.

I have no idea where this poem is heading or if it is going anywhere.  I'll keep the document open in case anything else bubbles up.   I'm composing on the computer instead of by hand, and for the past few months, I haven't written by hand.  Hmmm--is this change permanent?

Processing History

I've spent the last week wrestling with this writing assignment for Church History class, which seems like it would work in a variety of settings.  It may be too sophisticated for Confirmation classes, plus I do realize that Confirmation classes are often doing something very different.  It may be much more academic than is appropriate for any church setting--and if that's the case, I feel a bit sad.  

But it may be a perfect approach.  I love the way that it required us to look at a vast swath of history and choose our own focus.  I love the way it required us to respond to each other, but not in a "You're wrong!" way.  I loved that it required us to think about the long term implications of Church History.

Later, perhaps I'll share my answers.  For right now, I don't want to post my answers online, for free of triggering the plagiarism software contained in the course shell.

Here's the assignment:

Most of the reading and lecture materials have focused chiefly on the major reformers and movements in the Reformation (Luther, Zwingli, Calvin, Cranmer).  But there were other, perhaps lesser-known but nevertheless significant, figures.  Some were later-generation leaders, even successors of the early great Reformers (with names like Theodor Beza, Martin Bucer, John Knox, Oecolampadius).  Others were Anabaptists or more fringe Protestant figures (e.g., Konrad Grebel, Thomas Müntzer, Menno Simons).  In addition, we have seen, or will be seeing Roman Catholics who played a key role (Erasmus of Rotterdam, John Eck, Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples, Thomas More, Teresa of Ávila, Ximenes de Cisneros, to name a few).

Select two figures who you see as having played a positive role in the Reformation, and say why.  One may be a major player (such as the three listed above), but at least one must also be a more minor figure.  (If you have encountered a Catholic Reformation / Counter-Reformation figure that you would like to substitute for one of these, you may do so.)  Be sure to state why you believe that the contribution is significant.   In your reference to each, name at least one key event, document, or council related to that person.  This is due by 11:59 p.m. on Thursday, 16 February.

Then, after you post your basic response, reply to one other student (you choose who), and bring it forward to the present:  what lesson or example (this can be positive or negative, either something to imitate, or to avoid) might  the modern Church might one find in one of the two persons that other class member wrote about?  Remember to be courteous in your reply, even (especially!) if you disagree.  (There are two critiques that are out-of-bounds here because they are obvious and I want you to be more subtle and thoughtful: Luther's anti-judaism/anti-semitism, and Knox on women.  Both repugnant -- but choose something else.)  The reply is due by 11:59 p.m. on Saturday, 18 February.

Travel During a Time of Turmoil and Peak Leaf Season

 I am writing in my little house in the mountains, in Arden, NC.  I am at the end of a reading week for seminary, a week where I also turned in grades for one of my online classes that I teach, while also finishing the course shell for an online class that starts Monday.  When I entered these dates into the calendar, I thought my spouse might come to me to spend a few days in our seminary apartment.

But I'm the one that likes to drive.  I'm the one who has been craving a trip to the mountains for an apple orchard or a winery or a hike.  So I offered to be the one to drive back for a long week-end together.

I had been looking forward to seeing the mountains that were supposed to be at full peak color.  As I set out, the rain started to fall.  Through much of my drive yesterday, the mountains were cloaked in mist, clouds, and full out rain.  Although I didn't see far-off vistas for much of my drive, the individual trees were gorgeous.  Or to be more accurate:  some of them were gorgeous, while some of them had lost all of their leaves, while others only had a burst of color amidst full-on green, and others were half in color and half twiggy branches where leaves had been recently.

Despite the rain/mist/fog, it was a fairly easy drive.  When I left my seminary apartment, I heard a BBC episode about how the war in Ukraine might end and the mindset of Putin.  Along the way, I heard from Iranian activists who are hoping to secure more rights for women (and perhaps a regime change) and updates about vaccination rates and upcoming seasons of disease.  

I got back in the car at the end of the day to do a quick grocery store run, and I was just in time for the roll call vote from the January 6 committee, as they voted to subpoena Donald John Trump.  It was an interesting book-end to the day that began with commentators thinking about the path to nuclear war over Ukraine.

But the leaves are glorious.  During the last part of my trip through the North Carolina mountains, I saw the blazing colors that I had been promised.  This morning, I wrote these lines, after reading this provocatively titled essay, "We Are On a Path to Nuclear War."

We wait on leaves to fall
Or maybe nuclear bombs to drop.

Then I added a line from my list of interesting lines that didn't see development in previous essays:

I travel with a bag; I may not make it home

Here's how it looks right now:

We wait on leaves to fall
Or maybe nuclear bombs to drop.
I travel with a bag; I may not make it home

I'll keep this document open on my computer.  Perhaps I will add to it as I work on seminary papers and presentations that are due next week.  Maybe I will just enjoy the leaves.