Sunday, February 28 – Second Sunday in Lent

“See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God.” (1 John 3:1)

I have pictures of our three children on my dresser in our bedroom. When I get around to dusting that dresser, I pick up each picture and look into the sweet eyes and smile of our daughters and son (the pictures were taken when the children were 1 year old.) I remember bathing them, dressing them, diapering them, reading to them, and tucking them into bed at night. Now I go to bed before they do, and only our youngest – Emma – still lives at home.

I always wanted to be a mother. I used to think I would have at least 6 children, but then I had our first 2 so close together that I was exhausted! So we settled on 3. But the love I have for our children still amazes me. And even though they are almost grown, I still feel such responsibility for them. I worry about them. I love them. I try to support them. And I am amazed by them and all they have learned and accomplished. Our children have been the light of my life and I am so grateful for having had the chance to be their mother – well at least most of the time! (The teenage years are a little tough.)

Today I invite you to think about the children you have loved or love in your life and how special that connection is, and then try to realize that the love God has for you as God’s child is even greater. You are beloved – yes you! You are loved unconditionally just because you are you and a child of God. So try to remember that today, feel that love.  Have a blessed day, Ruth.

Monday, March 1

“Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.” (Psalm 96: 9)

Where do you see beauty in your life? Where do you encounter the holy? I felt in the presence of the holy when I walked around the grounds of Pokagon State Park in late January. With the beauty of the surroundings and the stark contrast of the white snow and the dark bare trees, I was overwhelmed with the beauty of God’s creation. Children are so much better at noticing beauty – a blue sky, a rainbow, even a dandelion in your green grass, all seem to be noticed better by children than adults. So this Lenten season I am trying to look for beauty. I saw it last week when I baptized Catarina Foga and watched her delight in the water of the baptismal font and in her pretty new dress for that special occasion. I see it when I notice a couple holding hands in the pews. I see it in our new Gathering Place. I hear it when the choir sings an anthem on Sunday morning. Where do you see beauty in your life? Can you sense the holy in that beauty? Have a blessed day, Ruth

Tuesday, March 2

“For with you is the well of life, and in your light we see light.” (Psalm 36:9)

I am writing this blog in February when I don’t think I have seen the sun for 2 weeks. Indiana is so cold and gray in the wintertime. Maybe by today we have a little sun and some warmer temperatures.

I have a small confession to make – I am scared of the dark. I have to have the hall light on at night just so I don’t have to sleep in complete darkness. I had a night-light when I was a child and our children did too. Light makes me feel more secure, less afraid, and more aware of my surroundings. You can’t see people’s expressions in the dark.

Christ is the light of the world. He illumines and personifies God’s love and purpose for our lives. Let him illumine you, so you can shine and be the person God wants you to be. Try to look today for ways to be a light of love in the life of someone. Shine the love. Have a blessed day, Ruth

Wednesday, March 3

“The eyes of all wait upon you, O Lord, and you give them their food in due season.” (Psalm 145:15)

As many of you know, our family welcomed 2 puppies last August. They are supposed to be Emma’s dogs, but you know how that goes. So Mark and I have grandpuppies now to take care of. Their names are Claude and Louise. They are named after my grandparents and look and act very much like their namesakes. They will lie at my feet as I cook dinner hoping I will share some juicy chicken or hamburger. They love green peppers. Mealtime is their favorite time of day.

Our bodies have a need for food and we have other physical needs as well. And then there are the needs of our hearts, and the needs of others that we care about. My greatest need right now is for gainful employment for our son and another friend – both of whom are underemployed and looking for more challenging work – work that will use the gifts that God gave them. My prayer each day is for opportunities for those who are unemployed and underemployed. What are your deep needs right now? For whom do you pray for that has needs that are not being met? Can you be patient enough to wait for your prayers and needs to be met in God’s due season? Have a blessed day, Ruth.

Thursday, March 4

“Come now and look upon the works of the Lord, what awesome things God has done on earth.” (Psalm 46:8)

Where can you look and see God’s power and divine nature? Can you look at beautiful mountain ranges covered with snow and not believe in a divine creator? Can you look at a newborn baby and not believe in miracles? If the weather is nice today I encourage you to take a walk outside. Look for signs of spring and the miracle of renewal and new life.

Look around your house today and try to rediscover something that awes you. Is it a picture of your wedding – are you still married after all these years? – that’s pretty awe-inspiring! What about pictures of your family? Even if everyone doesn’t always get along, the love that families share can be awesome. Look for the presence of God today – inside, outside, at work, at home, in the grocery store, and in the sunrise or sunset. Look for the presence of God all day long.

Have a blessed day, Ruth.

Friday, March 5

“What are human beings that you should be mindful of them? Mortals that you should seek them out? You have made them but little lower than the angels.” (Psalm 8:4-5)

The bible tells us we are made in the image of God and that we were created good. But there are very few days that I feel like I do much for God’s image. When I was doing my chaplaincy internship at St’s Vincent about 10 years ago, my supervisor told me that when I went into a hospital room I could be the presence of Christ that day for that person. At first I thought I couldn’t do this – who was I to presume that I was the presence of Christ? But then I realized it was an honor to be that presence and that if I loved and listened and cared for that patient maybe they could get a glimpse of the way we are loved by God. So I went out into that hospital each day and tried to be the presence of Christ to strangers, outcasts, the sick, the lame, the mentally ill, the sinners and the dying – all beloved children of God. It was a privilege for me to represent at least one image of God.

So today I encourage you to look for God’s image in the people with whom you interact. Can you see some love? Can you see kindness? Can you see or feel some mercy and grace? Can you reflect back that love, kindness, mercy and grace? Have a blessed day, Ruth.

Saturday, March 6

“Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, ‘You lack one thing: go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor.’” (Mark 10:21)

I thought we got all our talk about sin out of our systems on Ash Wednesday! But it pops up again in our reflections and pray for the day. Love and judgment is the topic, but I just want the love! But how can we have a realistic relationship with Jesus if both judgment and love are not present. The judgment keeps me honest, it keeps me accountable, and it keeps me on my toes. It forces me to be honest with myself and God. It is unrealistic for me to sell all I own and give the money to the poor – that would be irresponsible to my family and their needs. But the truth is, I have more than I need and I fall short of being the generous person I could be. Sin and judgment.

But I also know that nothing – nothing I did or did not do in this life – separates me from the love of God in Christ Jesus. (Romans 8:39)

Lent has traditionally been a time to examine our lives, to see our sin, and to repent or turn around and away from what separates us from God. Ask God to forgive your sins this day, knowing that your sins will be forgiven – because  even though there will be judgment, in the end there is always mercy and grace.

Sunday, March 7

“Taste and see that the Lord is good, happy are they who trust in the Lord!” (Psalm 34:8)

As you read this on March 7th I will hopefully be in Cancun Mexico with our youth director Julie Shannon. (I know, Mexico in March, pretty tough working conditions wouldn’t you say?!) Julie and I are in Mexico for the ordination of our partner church’s pastor, Neri Tomas. Neri has been studying and preparing for this day for many years and Northminster has provided support and encouragement to him and to the church he serves – Principe de Paz.

 Our Lenten suggestion and prayer is about eating simply. We probably won’t be eating simply at the celebration tonight, but our Mexican sisters and brothers in Christ certainly know about eating simply. This congregation that we partner with is in a very poor section of Cancun. Many of the houses around the church are really just shacks – metal siding walls and a tent for a roof. The people in the community are quite poor and many of them have limited food sources. So keep Julie and me in your prayers for the next few days as we travel to and from Mexico. And pray for the congregation of Principe de Paz – as their needs are great, some of them are hungry and many of them are malnourished. Have a blessed day, Ruth

Monday, March 8

“Open my lips, O Lord, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise.” (Psalm 51:15)

How can our mouths proclaim the goodness and glory of God? Well I thinking singing is a wonderful way of praising God and I am so appreciative of the hymns we sing on Sunday morning and how the choir anthems enrich our worship. But my words don’t always praise God. I have been known to say a swear word or two (but not in the pulpit like some pastors I know – ha, ha!) Plus what comes out of my mouth is not always positive or encouraging or loving. I don’t say enough words of appreciation or gratitude. If nothing unworthy of God is to pass my lips today, I am going to have to be very careful of what I say. The tongue as the apostle Paul reminds us can be very hurtful, and that is my prayer for today. May everything I think and say today glorify God and be words of thanksgiving, praise and gratitude for the wonderful blessings I receive from God. Have a blessed day, Ruth

Tuesday, March 9

“They feast upon the abundance of your house; you give them drink from the river of your delights.” (Psalm 36:8)

Our devotional guide encourages us to look and consider all that went into the preparation of the food in front of us. As most of you know, I am not much of a cook. I obviously love to eat, but I have little interest in cooking, and when I do it rarely comes out like the recipe says it will.

One time I tried to make Jell-O Jigglers for the children when they were little. I followed the directions on the back of the Jell-O package. The kids helped me make them and they were so excited about eating those wiggly sweet Jell-O treats. But I obviously didn’t pay enough attention to the directions (that is usually my problem) and they stuck to the pan and wouldn’t come out. I tried to put the pan in some warm water and as I pulled the pan out of the sink all the Jigglers slid out and down the drain. I used words you shouldn’t use in front of children and they cried. I have never made Jigglers or anything with Jell-O since!

When we are in Mexico our brothers and sisters at our partner church always cook something special for us. One year they made tamales. Not only are these expensive to make, they take hours to prepare. I’m not a big fan of tamales, but I eat every bite, because I realize the time it took to make them, the sun, soil and rain it took to grow the corn, and because I realize they were made with love. Although we can abuse it, food can be a reminder of how we are loved and cared for by God and by those who cook for us. I give thanks to God for all the people who have grown the food, prepared the food, cooked the food and served the food that has fed me all of my life. I am truly blessed and I wish you a blessed day today. Ruth 

Wednesday, March 10

“My soul is athirst for God, athirst for the living God.” (Psalm 42:2)

Our Lenten devotions for today encourage us to fast. Have you ever completely fasted for a whole day – no food all day long? Except for medical reasons I have done this about 10 times in the last decade – wow – about once a year. Not much to brag about is it?!

Maybe you can’t fast due to medical reasons, but fasting from food for 24 hours is very difficult. By lunchtime you are really hungry. And by dinnertime it is all you think about. How can I think about God when I am so hungry?

But when you are hungry is does remind you of how primal that need and urge to eat is and how necessary to your well being it is. What if you went a whole day without praying – would you notice it as much as not eating that day? We do need God, each and every day, and each and every minute of our lives, but we take it for granted that God will always be there. So try to fast today and let me know how it goes. I hope this discipline will help you know how important your need of God is. Don’t take it for granted. And make sure you drink plenty of water so you stay hydrated until you eat again tomorrow.

Have a blessed day today. Ruth

Thursday, March 11

“Come, let us sing to the Lord; let us shout for joy to the Rock of our salvation.” (Psalm 95:1)

I love music. I like and love all different types of music. I played the cello for about 25 years until life intervened and children and work took so much of my time. I loved playing the cello, and for a while I was pretty good at it. It just fed my soul somehow. The cello has such a rich and mellow sound  and sometimes when I was playing I just felt like it was an extension of my body – it was like my body was singing somehow.

I love classical music, blues, jazz, rock and any song by James Taylor. I have even started to like country music and have enjoyed listening and singing along to Roseanne Cash’s new album The List. I love listening to “oldies” radio stations and I can often be found singing along to the radio in my car. I still remember camp songs and songs we sang in my high school youth group. I used to sing those songs to the kids when they were babies.

Singing is often a way for me to pray and praise and shout to God. The melody helps express my mood and the words help me to express my thoughts and feelings. What songs help you express your thanks and praise to God for life and love? What type of music helps you feel closer to God? What type of music makes you feel alive and joyful?

I hope you have a joy filled and blessed day today. Ruth

Friday, March 12

If any of you think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless.” (James 1:26)

Today we are to search our hearts and consider whether we have made any thoughtless or unkind remarks recently. Is the author serious? I think the question should be when have I had a week without making a thoughtless or unkind remark! Over the years I have said so many mean things to my husband it is a wonder he even talks to me. And gossip. The church is rife with gossip. But that often happens in groups, especially ones where they know each other well.

Lent is a time for repentance, to acknowledge our sin and to repent or turn from it. I have gotten better at not just speaking in the heat of the moment – I guess maturity has some benefits. But words have great power and they can be so destructive and hurtful. So my prayer today is for God’s help in curbing my tongue and for God’s forgiveness when I fail. May you feel God’s love and forgiveness in your prayers today too. Ruth

Saturday, March 13

“How sweet are your words to my taste! They are sweeter than honey to my mouth.” (Psalm 119:103)

I never used to have much of a sweet tooth. When I had food cravings they were for salty foods like chips and nuts. Well something has changed in my old age and I crave sweet things and chocolate all the time. I just ate a Hershey’s Kiss and there is nothing like that sweet milk chocolate melting on your tongue!

What are the sweet words we hear from God – especially if we listen? How about “I love you – or you are forgiven.” “I will not leave you.” “I will always be faithful to you.” “I have sent Jesus to you to show you how much I love you and for the redemption of the world.” “I want to bring about healing and wholeness in your life.”

 Listen for God’s word to you today. Listen for God’s word in scripture. Spend some time in silent prayer and just listen. “Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10) Have a blessed day, Ruth

 I wasn’t here to make friends.  I came for personal spiritual renewal.  I wanted to get close to God, not four strangers.  I wanted a free trip to Italy, not touchy-feeling gush.  I would go along with the routine- but only to a point.  I didn’t see a thing these women could give me that I really needed.

 So we sat and shared-

 Karin, a 67 year old Episcopal priest from Virginia.  Her husband is dead, her kids are all spread out.  She is in an awful church mess.  One of those vicious congregations that chew up clergy then spit them out to watch them die.  She is so broken and so angry.

 Betty Lynn is United Church of Canada, a co-pastor with her husband.  She is brilliant but also a tad bit naïve.  She seems pretty steady, sharing her wisdom and experience as appropriate.  She is so strong and gutsy.  But finally through tears we learn of her father’s death, just days ago, and the pain and sorrow she has been kept to herself.

 Laurie is young, beautiful, smart, athletic, and sweet.  How perfect can one person be?  She has a beautiful daughter and a handsome husband, a Lutheran Church job she loves.  What kind of support can a perfect person want or need?  But as Laurie speaks we hear the pain and begin to see the empty space in her core.

 Linda, a Mennonite from Boise, speaks so softly we must strain to listen.  She will need the support of this group.  She is sick.  The victim of childhood abuse, chemical poisoning in Zimbabwe, food allergies, drug reactions, a heart problem.  She will need us.  But all we can do is listen.

 I just started a new job.  I’m not even sure why I am here.  The support group I used to have got me thru a divorce, thru cancer, thru so much.  But it took years to build to build that trust, the love, the respect.  What can we possibly accomplish is three short years?

 During the silent retreat we made 1237 beads to put on rosaries.  We rolled and cut and poked holes- and sliced- and cussed- and messed up- and doubted- and wondered- and amazed ourselves.  In the kitchen we baked into the wee hours- drinking- laughing- loving our art and the women represented in the beads. 

 Through the years we told the stories of our lives, our joys our pain.  We prayed Karin into retirement from pain and misery, then through her daughter’s cancer.  We prayed Laurie into a sabbatical of exploration and discovery as she filled herself with new creations.  We prayed Linda through a broken heart, an irritated bowel, and the sorrow of missing Italy.  We prayed Betty Lynn through her graduation, then from Saskatchewan to Toronto, from the parish to a new phase of her life.

 Now we gather as five women who would never have self-selected and we simply relish the company of one another.  We drink deeply of the spirit we share.  We touch each other with no more than a glace, a smile, a nod.  We light the candle and share the box of Kleenex on the table.

Part of the difficulty with this assignment is that we do not all agree on what is contrary to the gospel.  I just saw The Last Station. 

In 1910, famed novelist Leo Tolstoy (Christopher Plummer) and his wife Sofya (Helen Mirren) vehemently disagree over the rights to Tolstoy's literary legacy. Sofya believes her husband should bequeath them to her upon his death, while Tolstoy's chief disciple, Chertkov (Paul Giamatti), has nearly convinced the writer to sign the rights over to the Russian people.

The debate through the entire movie is what it really means to be a follower of Tolstoy.  We have the same difficulty being followers of Christ.

The gospel is clear on sharing with and caring for others so does that make anything that urges us to be over-consumers anti-gospel?

The debates on TV over health care do not sound like the gospel to me.

Reports on the war- wasn't Jesus a pacifist?

We have equated Christianity with being an American for so long I think we have lost touch with all the ways the gospel really does challenge our culture, our lifestyle, our priorities and our commitments.

What do you think?

Nature provides so many images for me, but the most profound experience is at someone's death.  I often have the privledge of being present when a person dies.  There is no description for the experience of God's presence in that time- the overwhelming sense of peace and calm and love.

Where do you experience that "beyondness" of God?

While I always resist I do find breathing and stretching and moving to be powerful ways of encountering God.  I pray while I walk- developing a rhythm of steps and thoughts.  I pray the labyrinth.  I have a breath prayer I have used for over 25 years.

But right now I am sitting on an airplane so I can hardly move.  I close my eyes and imagine the labyrinth, step, step, breath, exhale, emptying and then inhaling God.  Try it.

Comments???????

Our reading tells us that the word “law” can also be translated as “teaching” or “instruction”.  It can also be translated as “path”.  I like that translation.

The wonders of God’s path are many.  A path is not always clear, sometimes it wanders, often it takes us to unexpected places, it may fork and give us a choice.  A path is a journey, not a destination.

The path causes us to consider those with whom we travel- our speed- our nourishment.  As a hiker I have learned that paths have many unexpected ups and downs and you never know what might be around the next bend.

Path- I like that as a symbol of God’s leading, teaching, instructing.  If the Beatitudes are a path they take us to a place unlike anywhere we have ever been before.  They take us to a world that is different from Indianapolis, Indiana today.  Where does this path take you?  What is the first step?  What is the most difficult section?  What preparations must you make?  Are you ready for the hike?

There is a great quote floating around that I think is from Gandhi.  It says- Be the change you want to see in the world.  Today’s passage from James seems to tell us to be the church we want to experience ourselves.  I am truly blessed to see the church through a very wide angle lens.  I wish everyone could see what I see.

Ruth fell down the steps and had to be rushed to the ER.  Another member, Joan, went and sat with her all afternoon at the hospital and saw that she got home safely.  Jackie took food and checked in on her daily at home.  Kate called to be sure she was recovering.

The week before Christmas is busy and hectic in the church office.  John and Cheryl prepared and delivered a delicious lunch for the entire church staff.

On a very hot summer day during the building project one of the secretaries ran out for ice cream bars and popsicles to pass out to construction workers.

A member drops off $500 during the worst of the recession and asks that it go to someone in need.

In less than a week the congregation donates nearly $5000 to disaster relief in Haiti.

A young couple, new to the church, discovers that the man they sit near each Sunday has a wife in the nursing home.  They drop off flowers and visit.  When she dies they attend her funeral.

James calls us to be full of mercy and good fruits.  Mercy, mercy, mercy….

Way back in the days when I was serving as a youth pastor I brought a bus load of kids from Omaha, Nebraska to IU in Bloomington for the first Youth Triennium of our denomination.  Other than the heat and humidity I don’t remember much except the refrain to one song we sang over and over all week- Be not afraid.  I go before you always.  Come follow me and I will give you rest.  When I think about God that refrain says perfectly what I know in my bones to be true.

I know it because I have experienced it.  I have known God’s comfort and peace in times of trial, adversity, fear and sorrow.  I have discovered God’s courage when I had none of my own.  I have followed into places I wasn’t sure I should ever go and found God with me.  My heart has rested in the Lord when I needed refreshment, renewal, inspiration or hope.  Been there, done that, got that T-shirt.  I know in my bones and in my heart that it is true.

I have also seen it in others.  I have been with many people at the time of death and been completely convinced that they were being “led” out of this world.  They were not alone and they were not afraid.  Can I explain that?  Absolutely not.  Do I know it to be true?  Absolutely!

“Lord, let me know my end and the number of my days, so that I may know how short my life is.”  Psalm 39:4

I cannot consider the span of my days without thinking of my experience with cancer.  I cannot consider that experience without a sense of deep gratitude for the changes it caused in me.

Most people say they would not like to know how or when they are going to die ahead of time.  I don’t want to know.  But having gone through a time when I realized I could be dying I had to come to terms with the idea.  I vowed that I would stop wasting time and putting off important things in my life.  I moved my family up in my priorities, I started traveling more, I focus now on the joy of the moment rather than waiting for delayed gratification.  These learnings have been precious.  I don’t have a lot of regrets.  I know that life is short and I want to treasure every moment.

“My days pass away like a shadow…”

First of all, I have a confession to make.  In order to get these devotional reflections up on-line each day I knew I would need to work ahead.  If I did them in real time I would undoubtedly run into a funeral or the flu or something that would put me behind schedule.  I know you are all just sitting at your computers eagerly awaiting the next installment, so I decided I had best be prepared (yes, I was a Girl Scout).

So, I am sitting on Ft. Myers beach as I write this.  A snow storm in Atlanta caused our flight scheduled for 6:00 this morning to be cancelled so we are “stuck” here another day.  It has been very cold but today it is almost 70 and the wind has let up and we are actually on the beach.  As long as the sun is shining we can sit here and enjoy watching the people and the surf.  However, when the sun goes behind a cloud it suddenly gets very cold and I wrap up in the beach towel and snuggle back into the cabana out of the wind.  When the sun comes back out the towel comes off and I bake myself a little more.

In the shadow I just wrap up and wait it out.  I shiver and shake and curse the shade.  I wait for the sun to return.  But my time on the beach is passing quickly and I hate to waste it wrapped in a towel.  Finally, I jump up and start off down the beach at a fast clip (fast by MY standards).  Even in the shadow now I am warm.  Even the shade time has purpose and is enjoyable.  I will not sit curled up in a ball waiting for the warmth- I will create my own warmth in the shadows.

Right up there with my mother and my grandmother in the list of significant women in my life is my Aunt Ilo.  I think she was the third born of 12 children in my dad’s family.  She and her husband, Uncle Smitty, practically raised my father.  Ilo and Smitty had no children of their own but they had me and my 30 some cousins.

Ilo and Smitty lived on a farm outside of Findlay, Ohio.  We used to go stay with them at the farm and I loved it.  We picked corn from the field, vegetables from the garden, gathered eggs from the chicken coup, climbed in the hay maw, rode in the back of the pickup and even got to drive the tractors on occasion.  

Uncle Smitty and Aunt Ilo were God-fearing, church going Methodists.  If any of my other Aunts and Uncles went to church I did not know it.  Nobody talked about the faith like Ilo.  She took us to church when we went to visit.  We prayed before we ate at her house.  When I decided to go to seminary she was thrilled and encouraged me all the way.

When Uncle Smitty died it was hard on Ilo.  She was strong and able to care for herself.  She had always been very independent.  But she a Smitty were really soul mates and she missed him terribly.  She never had any doubt that he was in heaven with his Lord and that softened her grief.  But as the years passed Ilo lost her sight, could no longer drive, moved to assisted living, had a stroke, and needed a walker to walk her three miles a day.  When I would visit she would always say how she missed Smitty and how ready she was to join him.  She’d had a good life and she was ready to go home.  She really believed  that with all her heart.

When Ilo died last summer I was sad for me but not for her.  She was finally where she had wanted to be for the last 10 years.  She left me the diamond heart necklace Smitty had given her for their 50th wedding anniversary.  It reminds me of her, the good life she lived and shared with me, and it reminds me that she is finally home.  I believe that with all my heart.

When I was a kid we all thought ashes on the forehead was a very Catholic thing.  The only people who did it were Catholics, the same folks who wore head coverings, ate fish on Friday, and “crossed” themselves.  At lot has changed since then in the Catholic Church, in the Protestant Church, and in me.

In the Protestant reformation we rebelled against the ritual of the Roman Church.  Some days I fear we went too far.  Ritual can carry important meaning.   People cling to ritual.  Think about your kids and their bedtime ritual- it is comforting, they know what to expect, they know where it leads, it makes them feel safe.  That is what ritual can do.

We have maintained the rituals of baptism and communion.  Confirmation has a little ritual in it.  Weddings and funerals have ritual.  Some families establish their own religious rituals.  We used to have an Advent wreath at home every year when Thomas was young.  Some families have prayer rituals at meal time or at bed time.  Many couples have daily morning devotions together before they begin their days.  These rituals give us a sense of being grounded.  They make us feel safe.

The past six years I have been part of Women Touched by Grace- a group of Protestant clergy women who meet regularly for study and renewal at Our Lady of grace Benedictine Monastery.  My experience worshiping with the sisters and in visiting so many cathedrals around the world has led me to adopt the ritual of blessing myself with holy water when I enter or leave the sanctuary.  I dip my fingers into the holy water and make a cross on my forehead.  I remind myself that I am baptized.  I am a child of God.  I am claimed and loved.  That has become a meaningful ritual in my life- very simple and very small- but very significant.

Tonight we will make that same sign on foreheads with ashes.  Instead of saying “You are baptized.”  We will say, “From dust you came and to dust you shall return.”  This is another ritual.  It means different things to different people.  What about you?

 Avatar is the Smurfs Meet Rambo.  It is science fiction and fantasy and magic rolled up in a battle of good verses evil.  The movie is good and the effects are great and it is definitely worth seeing.  However, it is fantasy.  In the battle of good verses evil the characters are all very one dimensional, except the hero Jake Sully.

  Set in future on an alien moon called Pandora, Avatar tells the timeless story of greed, immaturity, and ignorance and the violence that arises out of them.  But it is all too simple.  The bad people are really bad from head to toe.  They have no redeeming qualities at all.  The good people are perfectly good.  They are in harmony with the earth, the animals, nature, each other and their God.

 It is a nice story and a fun movie but pure fantasy.

Hurt Locker is the exact opposite.  The movie is bloody, violent, reality from start to finish.  The movie is full of explosions and hectic scenes of combat. It is not about the causes and consequences of the Iraq war.  The movie depicts men who risk their lives every day on the streets of Baghdad and in the desert beyond, and who are too stressed out, too busy, too preoccupied with the details of survival to reflect on larger questions about what they are doing there.

The movie left me wondering who was good and who was bad?  What was right and what was wrong?  None of the characters were pure good and none were totally evil.  They were human and real and mixtures of goodness and sinfulness.

I cannot say I really “enjoyed” this movie.  It was hard to watch and even more difficult to digest.  I certainly did not provide the escape from reality I found in Avatar.

It is a not so nice story and an unentertaining movie but pure reality.

I have never been one to memorize scripture.  I read it.  I like to read it because I see something different each time.  But on Christmas Eve my favorite part of the service is the Benediction when I can recite one of the few passages I know by heart-

Fear not, for behold, I bring you tidings of great joy which shall be to all the people.  For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.  And this shall be a sign unto you.  You shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in the manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host singing Glory to God in the highest.  And on earth peace.

I memorized that speech of the angel when I was in the second grade.  I was cast as the angel in the school Christmas pageant.  Obviously, this was before the days when religion was banned from the public schools.  I had the biggest part in the play and I was so excited.  I spend weeks learning my lines as my mother listened over and over and over again.

The really cool part of the whole play was the costume I got to wear.  The shepherds had bathrobes and Mary and Joseph were in dingy stuff.  But I was the angel and I got to wear a beautiful white gown with wings and of course, a halo.  My mother made the costume.  My mother always made our costumes for everything.  She could turn us  into pumpkins, fairies, monsters, almost anything.  She was amazing that way and my costume was glorious.

But then, just weeks before the big production, I fell from the monkey bars (yes, even angels play on monkey bars) and I broke my arm.  I remember crying in the hospital emergency room, more from fear than from pain.  Then once the cast was on I really became worried.  I was to be the angel in just a few weeks and the doctor said I was stuck with the cast for six weeks.  How could I possibly be an angel with a cast?

My mother told me not to worry and she let out the sleeve and enlarged the arm hole so I could still wear the costume.  So it would be possible, but I would still have a cast.  There is no such thing as an angel with a broken arm.  Even my mother’s creative costuming could not make that look right.  It was hopeless.  I was convinced my cast would ruin the whole play.

The day before my stage debut my mother came into my room.  She had a roll of red masking tape in her hand.  She sat down and gently took my cast in her lap and began wrapping the tape around and around and around.  When she was finished she announced, you are no longer an angel with a broken arm.  You are now an angel with a huge candy cane.  How cool was that!!

I think of that every year as I say those words.  How cool is that.

As much as I believe in God’s unconditional love and forgiveness as a Christian, I also believe in personal responsibility (or lack there of) as an American.  I do believe we avoid working to make the world better by believing that nothing is our fault and therefore we can do nothing to fix it.

Liz Neterval shared a quote from “Speaking of Faith” with me.  I think it was Abraham Heshel…Not everyone is guilty but everyone is responsible.

 Then Russell Wharam told me about this song and I listened to it this morning.  Check it out and then spend some time in your journal.  What am I being called to repent this Advent and what difference will it make in the world?

You can listen here-

http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/j/jack_johnson/cookie_jar.html

 Cookie Jar by Jack Johnson

I would turn on the TV but it's so embarrasing
To see all the other people I don't know that they mean It was magic at first when they spoke without sound
And now this world is gonna hurt you better turn that thing down
Turn it around

"It wasn't me", says the boy with the gun
"Sure I pulled the trigger but it needed to be done
Cause life's been killing me and the censor begun
You cant blame me cause I'm too young"

"You can't blame me sure the killer was my son
But I didn't teach him to pull the trigger of the gun
It's the killer on this TV screen
You cant blame me its those images he seen"

Well "You can't blame me", says the media man
Well "I wasn't the one who came up with the plan
I just filled my camera with what the people want to see
Man it's a two way mirror and you cant blame me"

"You can't blame me", says the singer of the song
Or the maker of the movie which he based his life on
"It's only entertainment and as anyone can see
The smoke machines and makeup
Hey you cant fool me"

It was you it was me it was every man
We've all got the blood on our hands
We only receive what we demand
And if we want hell then hells what well have

And I would turn on the TV
But its so embarrasing
To see all the other people
I don't even know that they mean
And it was magic at first
But it let everyone down
And now this world is gonna hurt
You better turn it around
Turn it around

Amos is talking about preparing to meet the Lord.  He thinks that means being ready to be held accountable for actions and/or behaviors.  We don't usually think that way in our preparations for Christmas.

Preparation- well, the house has to be cleaned, find the decorations, put up the tree, decorate the mantle, shop for gifts, wrap gifts, mail gifts, worry about gifts, plan the worship, plan the Session party, don't forget the staff lunch, preparation, preparation and we just keep hoping it will all be over soon.

The funeral home just called to say one of our members died.  I guess she doesn't have to prepare for Christmas.  But then Amos says, Prepare to meet your God.  I guess her preparations are over but they still matter.

We are better at preparing for a nice, sweet baby who teaches us to share than we are preparing for the second coming of Christ who will judge.  Advent doesn't call us to fear judgment, but to prepare so that we are free to serve and free to love.

Are you ready for Christmas?  Are you prepared to meet your God?  What remains on that to-do list?

Jeremiah 33:14-16

14The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. 15In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. 16In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which it will be called: “The Lord is our righteousness.”

Tonight President Obama will be making a speech about the war in Afghanistan.  What a mess we are in.  What would it mean to “execute justice and righteousness” in that land and is that something we are even capable of doing?

Justice and righteousness seem to look different depending on where you sit.  In the current health care debates there is great fear that we not lose any of the health care we currently have.  It would not be just to take away what we have now.  But what does justice look like for those who have no health care?  Is it just for some to have much while others have none?

Jeremiah and his people were in exile and their greatest hope was that God would restore them to their land.  What would you like to see God set right in the world?  Some folks are very passionate about hunger or human rights or war or AIDS.  What would you most want to see God set right in the world?  What from your perspective is most painful?  Write about that in your journal.

Then look at what you have written and ask how God might use you in the healing of the world.  How can you be a beacon of light and justice for the Gospel’s sake?

How about getting into Advent?  This is a time of waiting and preparation.  I picked up an Advent Journaling booklet this year called Prepare the Way of the Lord.  You might also call it- Journaling to Bethlehem.

Today’s suggested scripture reading is this…

2 Peter 1:1

1Simeon Peter, a servant and apostle of Jesus Christ, To those who have received a faith as precious as ours through the righteousness of our God and Savior Jesus Christ: 2May grace and peace be yours in abundance in the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord. 3His divine power has given us everything needed for life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. 4Thus he has given us, through these things, his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may escape from the corruption that is in the world because of lust, and may become participants of the divine nature.

The question is- What gift do you have to contribute to the world?

Growing up I never thought I had much in the way of gifts.  My older brother was the smart one and my little sister was the pretty one.  I was just the middle child.

I wonder if we can really be aware of our own gifts or if others need to point them out for us.  When I started working and getting performance reviews I began to hear people tell me what I do well.  Shouldn’t have surprised me that what they thought I did well was usually something I really enjoyed doing.  But those same evaluations would point out that my greatest strengths were also my greatest weaknesses.

I have the gift of commitment and determination.  Carried too far that becomes stubborn and inflexible.  I have the gift of being able to see things pretty clearly and speak clearly.  When I am not careful that can border on tactless or offensive.  You get the picture.

So Peter says we are given our gifts to help us participate in the divine nature, in other words, to do good, to give life, to be creative, to share love.  Advent is a good time to think about the gifts we have been given and how we use them.  Will you join me in journaling to Bethlehem?

My first lesson about God came on a quiet summer day on our short street in a new subdivison. I was young, probably in kindergarten, which made my little sister about 3.  We were in the driveway making mud pies after a morning rain.  The mud was dark and smooth like the chocolate batter we imagined it to be.  I tried to get Jennifer to eat one by pretending to do so myself.  She balked.  I pushed. She pushed back.  I smacked.  She cried and ran to mom.  I jumped on my tricycle and raced down the street.  If I could get around the corner she would not be able to see me.  The corner appeared and I was going way too fast.  Spin out.  Gravel.  Pain.  Tears.  The handle bar missing the rubber grip on its end had torn across my belly scrapping skin and drawing blood.  Leaving the tricycle in the grass, I ran home screaming.  Mom plopped me on top of the dryer as she tended the wounds with little sympathy.  Finally, all clean and bandaged, the lecture began. 

 Do you know why you were hurt?

 Yes, the rubber cap is missing on my bike.

 But do you know why you fell?

 Yes, I was going too fast at the corner.

 No, you got hurt because God was punishing you for hitting your little sister.  Now, go apologize to Jennifer and then clean up the mess out front.

 God.  Sitting in the sky.  Looking down and watching my every move.  Just waiting for me to screw up.  Just waiting for me to do the wrong thing.  Just waiting to zap me, punish me, and make me pay for my evil ways.

 So God was to be avoided, hid from, steered clear of, and so was my sister.

 Gradually, I grew up.  The country was divided over the Vietnam War.  Earth Day was established to help us focus on the environment.  Racial conflicts erupted in the city and the high school.  I wore wire-rim glasses and a floppy hat with my bellbottom jeans and Mrs. Mueller in World History called me the hippie.  My good friend hanged himself in his basement and I never had to ask why. Occasionally there was a vague sense of that long forgotten God up there watching me break the rules, but nobody else ever seemed to notice.

 One day Betty Ann asked if I wanted to go on a trip.  Her church youth group was going to visit mission sites in New Mexico and Arizona.  For two weeks away I would have gone anywhere.  Sign me up.

 That trip took me to heaven and introduced me to a different God. 

 Far from the city, up in the hills the collection of shacks was the only indication that life existed at that altitude.  Nothing came close to resembling the doctors’ offices I knew from home.  Barely diapered babies crawled across the dirty floor while sniffling, coughing, vomiting children filled the broken chairs that lined the walls.  From the exam room came the sounds of pain, the smells of illness and the sights of compassion.  A clinic, serving the poor and forgotten was a vision of hope in a world I believed no longer cared.

 Families, old men, young women unhurried gradually filled the pews.  At least “pew” is what they called the rough, hard planks balanced across the stumps.  The drums and guitars filled the log building with melodies of enjoyment.  Voices were raised in songs of delight.  Something was making it possible for these people to sing in their dreary surroundings, to praise in their needy circumstances, to find joy in a community that by all appearances was so depressed.  I could feel the presence of something making that joy possible, something I could not see and still did not understand.

 Stars filled the sky as we spread out sleeping bags on the abandoned ski slope.  People I did not even know 10 days earlier were now my friends and companions.  We shared questions, insights, dreams and fears.  The sense of being close to another person in a caring way was comfortable and inviting yet unfamiliar.  I felt others touching me, inside and out and began to understand how love feels.

 One by one, step by step, one experience after another, I was meeting God.

 A God who built hospitals on reservations.

A God who stood up against the war.

A God who created our world and wanted us to protect it.

A God who cared for people- even Native Americans- even children- even me.

A God who welcomed me wholeheartedly into a community of faith.

A God who picked me up off the path I was traveling and moved me to a new road, a road with meaning and purpose and hope and promise and a big bunch of people who knew my name and cared about me.

A God who saved me.

 I know I have no right to compare myself to them.  After all, they are older.  Who would have dreamed that by skipping two years of school I would look so much younger than all my classmates?  

 I am remarkably unchanged.  I am the same height I was in high school and unfortunately about the same weight.  My hair is the same color it has always been and just beginning to turn grey.  Not even my name has changed.  Oh OK, it has changed.  But it’s now back to where it started so these people don’t know any different.

 Six of us gather at a table in the corner and we remember other meals shared on brown plastic cafeteria trays and served by grouchy ladies in hair nets.  After school we would all go to Linda’s and flop on the old sofas in her basement.  Dave would sometimes serenade us with his dark, depressing songs.  Ken, our self-appointed academic advisor, walked us step by step through the Algebra homework.  Debbie and I never would have passed without him.  Steve was the one with a car and an older brother who could buy cigarettes and beer.  We all thought we would be friends for life but life had other plans and we all lost touch.

 Our conversation moves quickly to children, spouses, where we live and finally, what we do with our lives.

 “So Teri, what do you do?” somebody asks.

 “Why don’t you try to guess?” I teased.

 Dave takes the first stab, “I bet she tends bar in a dark, smoky French Quarter Jazz Club.  She drinks with the customers and listens to their stories.  She probably sells pot from the back room.  She’s got that biker babe thing going with tattoos, leather and chains.”

 “No, no, she was always more ambitious than that.” Debbie points out, “She is a Columbian drug Lord lounging by the pool all day with servants tending her every whim as she samples the merchandise and counts her money.”

 Linda jumps to my defense, “Oh come on you two, she wasn’t ALWAYS in trouble.  Remember all the plays she was in?  She could be an actress in some off-Broadway theatre specializing in those risqué avant guard productions that make people think really hard and then embarrass them.”

 Ken confidently throws out his prediction. “Don’t overlook the protest she organized at graduation.  Can’t you see her marching in a picket line around the Capitol calling Senators obscene names with excellent volume and perfect diction?  She has probably been in lock up at least 100 times by now”

 “Now wait a minute gang.” Steve insists, “Need I remind you of English class?  Mrs. Owen was always reading Teri’s papers to us.  This girl is a writer.  She writes books- novels- the kind where the sex is so bizarre you have to actually move your body to see if a person can really bend that way.”

 Concerned about where this might be headed, I finally confess, “I am the pastor of a Presbyterian Church in Indianapolis, Indiana.”

 Linda’s gasp causes our waiter to worry she might need the Heimlich maneuver.

 Steve’s spoon halts midway between the bowl and his mouth while steaming soup dribbles on his pressed khaki lap.

 Dave downs the merlot remaining in his glass and signals the server for another round.

Debbie stares at me as if I’d just handed her an iguana wrapped in a pink feather boa.

Finally finding his voice Ken laughs, “Good one Teri.  But hey, wouldn’t it be great if there really was a God powerful enough to do that to you?”

When I think about it I recall visiting St. Benedict’s cave in Subiaco, Italy and my reaction to that peace, quiet, beauty and solitude.

“I could live here for three years.  Especially if someone brought me food every day.”

We were standing in a small white cave. The whitewash on the walls could not disguise the craggy, cold stones.  Empty, except for the statue of Benedict, the space felt full- close- almost dense.

It was the cave where Benedict experienced his spiritual awakening and the spirit was still present.  As a young man he’d gone to Rome for his education.  Turned off by the crowds, the noise and the sinful living he left for the mountains and found this hole in which he took up residence.   An abbot living near by lowered bread and water in a basket on a rope.  Liberated from worldly concerns Benedict was free to spend his time in prayer and devotion.

Envy filled my heart.  How wonderful to have no obligations in the world other than prayer.  How I would love to have a simple, bare space to sit and pray and think and wonder and write.  What a privilege to be alone, totally alone, in peace and quiet to listen to God.  I stood there imagining the joy of it all.  Not forever, mind you, but just for three years.  For three years I could go without baby carrots and seared sea bass, Mad Men and Criminal Minds, my Prius, the whirlpool tub, flannel sheets, the Braun coffee maker.  I’d like to keep my laptop, just for writing of course.  And the view from the cave was simply stunning.  The sky was clear, crisp blue dotted with puffs of clouds.  The trees were changing into their fall colors and reds, yellows, and oranges spotted the mountain side.  And when I listened carefully I could hear the silence- the caw of the raven floating on the wind.  I could absolutely live in this place.  Imagine no worry about quarterly taxes, no dinner to plan, no knick knacks to dust, no microwave to break down, no one to please, to clock to tell me I’m late, no calendar to drive my days, no cell phone to interrupt my thoughts.  Nothing.  Nothing except me and God and my laptop.  Oh yes, I do need a Bible and maybe a box of books.  But that’s all.  Nothing else..

“Yes, I could live here alone for three years.” I said out loud.

Lowering her camera, Sr. Mary Luke turned and responded, “But if you lived here alone, whose feet would you wash?”

I share my office with a ghost.  We get along amazingly well since I used to be terrified of ghosts.  Casper was friendly but other stories and movies made them all out to be rather frightening and dangerous.  The only ghost I’ve ever actually seen was Uncle Nubby.

Uncle Nubby was my mom’s uncle, or cousin, or some distant relation.  He died over Thanksgiving while we were visiting Grandma.  None of us had packed funeral clothes for the trip.  Actually, I didn’t even know what they meant by funeral clothes.  At the local discount store I learned quickly that funeral clothes were ugly, scratchy, dark colored dresses for me and Jen, some long pants and a button up shirt for my brother.  Dad didn’t think we should bother going to the visitation and we certainly didn’t need new clothes.  Mom thought it would be good for us.  She said now that we were all in school we were old enough to see a dead person and since we didn’t know Uncle Nubby very well, this would be a good one to start with.

It was hard to see in the funeral home.  Lots of old people were standing around talking and a few sat crying in chairs by the wall.  There wasn’t enough light and big, heavy drapes covered up all the windows.  It smelled funny like Aunt Ilo’s parlor.  People kept walking over to a box by the wall and looking at something inside.  Curiosity got the best of me.  I motioned to my brother and sister and we took off through the sea of legs.  Tom stood back away from the box and Jen was too short to see over the edge.  I walked right up, peered over the edge, and found myself face to face with dead Uncle Nubby.  I’d never seen him in a suit before, or with makeup on.  I stared to be sure he wasn’t still breathing.  I wanted to ask him if it hurt, if he was sacred, if he knew we were there.  As I reached out to touch his carefully folded hands Mom pulled me away and sent me to a chair for the rest of the evening.

After the visitation, we loaded into the station wagon for the three-hour drive back home.  I was in the way back so I could lie down.  Being susceptible to carsickness did have its advantages.  Lying on the blankets in the back, I watched the lights flash by the window.  Rolling over I glanced out the other side of the car and saw it.  It was a ghost.  Actually, it was Uncle Nubby, but he was a ghost, and he was flying along side the car.  He wanted to tell me something; I could feel it.  Too frightened to move I just watched as he flew beside us mile after mile.  At some point, my eyes must have closed because I awoke as we pulled into the driveway at home.  I jumped out of the car and searched all around.  Uncle Nubby was gone.  I hoped we had lost him at the state line but I checked my closet and under the bed every night for weeks.

Never seeing another apparition I gradually lost my fear, which is a good thing since I now share my office with a ghost.  You can call it a presence, a spirit, a ghost, call it whatever you like, I call it Fred.

Fred Mathias was my predecessor at Northminster.  He is the one who moved the pastor’s office into this room from the smaller one next door and he occupied this space for 11 years.  I am confident the décor was appropriately handsome for the time.  There is no feng shui for me in the maroon carpet, heavy wooden desk, worn out furniture and dark paneled walls.  After almost five years, I still feel like I am borrowing someone else’s office.

I never met Fred.  In September of 1996, he announced his intention to retire as Pastor of Northminster.  In December of that same year, Fred and his wife Cleta were brutally murdered in their home.  The couple’s bodies were found beside their Christmas tree, bound with ropes and beaten.  An ax was buried in Fred Mathias’ head.  A sixteen-year-old boy, a member of the church youth group, was eventually charged and found guilty.  The church had some difficulty finding a new pastor after that.

A significant part of the congregation disappeared after the murders.  Money was tight.  People who stayed were sad.  The investigations and trials lasted for three years.  Folks were tired.  Staff people were afraid.  So much more than a pastor had been lost.  Everything became very serious and sober.

Meanwhile, 585 miles away in Washington DC, I decided it was time for a change.  I had been through cancer and was fine but everyone still looked at me as if I was sick.  The Presbytery no longer held any excitement for me and the work felt increasingly pointless.  I wasn’t making a difference in the world.  I wasn’t affecting people’s lives.  My faith had little to do with my work and I no longer felt called.  I really wanted to try being the pastor of a church.

I believe God speaks to us in a variety of ways.  Restlessness can be the voice of God.  You know that antsy feeling you get that life needs to change.  Boredom could be God’s way of calling to something new.  Sometimes God even speaks through the voices of family, friends, counselors, or strangers.  For the last couple of years, every time I preached, someone would stop on the way out of church and say, “you really should quit this Presbytery stuff and go to a congregation.”  Eventually I realized that could be God calling and I decided to listen.

Trusted friends and colleagues assured me my dream was both impossible and ridiculous.  For 18 years, I had not only been out of the parish but I had been serving as the number one enemy of many congregations- the Presbytery Executive.  Who wants a church bureaucrat as a pastor? 

I struggled with my ambivalence.  I felt called but knew it was an impossible leap.  The thought of starting a totally new ministry was frightening and exhilarating.  I felt compelled to do something different.  I was terrified.  I was thrilled.  The whole thing was out of my hands.  I had no choice.  I had to try and I had to start with Northminster.

I needed a congregation who would let me be myself.  Northminster needed a pastor who was not like Fred.  I needed people who could appreciate my irreverence.  Northminster needed to laugh.  I needed a congregation who could tolerate some mistakes as I learned with them.  Northminster knew more about grace than any group of people I have ever known.  I didn’t realize how much I really needed a place where I could feel loved.  They were not conscious of their deep desire to love again.  God’s fingerprints were all over this match, I hoped.

Have you ever heard a voice telling you what to do with your life?  I have never heard God sound like Charlton Heston or George Burns.  As I look back over my life I can see influences that led me to make certain decisions and callings that led me in certain directions, but of course, it is always clearer in retrospect.  At the time it is pretty confusing and frightening.

I moved to Northminster.  Frederick Buechner said, “The place God calls you is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”  (Wishful Thinking, p.119)  With all my heart, I knew that I was in that place and with all my mind, I knew that I was in over my head.  Even working 60-hour weeks, I was behind before I ever started.  It took me forever to write a good sermon every week.  Names of people jumbled and jostled in my head with most of them leaking out and disappearing.  The more I did the more people expected me to do.  Five funerals in one month felt impossible until I had to do three in one week.  People just waited to die until the new pastor arrived.  Everyone wanted to meet me.  Every group wanted me to visit.  Every troublemaker had an issue.  Every leader had a plan.  O, my God what have I gotten myself into?

Wondering if I’d made a terrible mistake, I grabbed a hymnal from the office shelf to finish yet another bulletin.  Flipping through the pages, I saw the writing, Fred’s writing.  There were dates at the top of the page indicating when a hymn had been sung.  Notes were scribbled at the bottom.  Staring at the handwriting, I felt a presence in the office with me.  For the first time I felt comfortable in the over-sized desk chair.  Clutching the hymnal I leaned back, closed my eyes, and waited.  A calming presence washed over my stressed body.  My anxious mind relaxed.  My whole being went limp as tension and fear dissolved.  Instinctively I knew it was Fred, so I introduced myself.

I knew this was insane and even wondered if I could be having a nervous breakdown, but it felt so good I didn’t really care.  After a while, I opened my eyes and shut the hymnal and Fred was gone.  I knew exactly what I had to do.  Life is precious and short, Fred reminded me.  I am just passing through the life of this congregation and my impact will take forms I neither intend nor imagine.  God will do the work if I step back and leave some space.

That hymnal now sits within easy reach on my desk.  When the message grows dim or I begin to feel out of control or I am having trouble with a person or an idea I just open it to any page and sit.  Fred is always available with calm and encouragement.  I wonder sometimes if it isn’t Fred.  I wonder if maybe it’s God.  No, I assure myself, it has to be Fred.  If I sit in here talking to God people might think I am crazy.

On one side of us is a family of four, the parents and their girls, who look to be about 4 and 6.  Lucy grabs a bucket a runs toward the waters edge.  Mom starts screaming, “Lucy!  Get away from that water right now!”  For hours the girls want to play in the water and mom refuses to allow it.  “It is not safe.”  “You might drown.”  “It is too dangerous.”  Finally, Dad comes and wants the girls to go into the ocean with him.  They scream and yell and refuse.  They are now terrified of the water and what it might do to them.

On the other side a dad and his son (who looks about 5) are playing together in the sand just where the surf comes in.  The boy begins to move away from the approaching waves but Dad holds his hand and says, “It is ok.  I will hold you and you will be fine.”  The boy moves from terror to shear joy in a matter of moments because dad is with him, holding him and assuring him.

Water can be fun and exciting and life giving.  It can also be very frightening and destructive.  The scripture talks about the great flood and the stormy sea.  But it also talks of the waters of life.  As you read scripture pay attention to the wells.  Whenever there is a well in a story God’s presence is about to be experienced by someone.

The water is a great symbol for God’s presence in so many ways.  It might be interesting to think about how we learned to fear the water or to respect and enjoy the water.  How did we learn to fear God?  How about respect and enjoy God?  Did someone yell at you and tell you to be careful or did someone take you by the hand and walk in with you slowly and patiently?

I cannot get this hymn out of my head.  I have been singing it since the first day on Montreat and I find myself singing the chorus as I walk the beach each day.

There is water in the river

Bringing life to tree and plant.

Let creation praise its giver:

There is water in the font.

Hymn #494 Out of Deep Unordered Water in The Presbyterian Hymnal

Last week there were 19 of us from Northminster at Montreat to attend the Worship and Music Conference.  The theme this year was, “Come to the Water.”

I have always been a water person.  My Grandmother lived by the philosophy that as soon a child could walk the child should swim and as soon as a child could swim a child should ski.  So I grew up going every summer to Rocky Fork Lake in southern Ohio and water skiing from sun up to sun down.

I still love the water, swimming, sunning, floating, boating.  Being near the water is relaxing and renewing for me.  There is nothing else quite like it.

I thought of all that during the Montreat Conference.  We were talking about the waters of baptism, the living water Jesus gives, and the water that flows from the throne of God.  Water is such a great image for God.  But sometimes I feel like water is also a symbol of my faith.

My faith feels so much like the ocean.  It comes in waves and is never the same twice.

One day my faith is so shallow I can walk over the sand and shells, feel the pain, and barely dampen my toes.  The next day the waves knock my feet out from under me and I swallow and breathe the salty waters.  One day I float on top of the gentle, calm pool, slipping in to cool off only when the heat of the sun is too much.  Another day the stormy waves frighten me away.  Crashing surf and powerful undertow pull me places I would not go.

The ocean, like my faith has so many faces, so many moods and none of them are within my control.

I can go to the water.  I can put myself there.  But the tides, the water, the surf, the currents are in God’s hand.  When I am feeling strong and confident and more than capable of riding the huge curls and fighting the frightening currents, I go to the beach and find the tide is out and I’m left with shallow pools in the sand.  When I am exhausted or wounded and simply want to float in the amniotic waters of earth’s loving womb I may discover a faith that it stormy and tosses me to and fro.

I used to think that faith was always a gentle, comforting presence that would make me feel warm and happy.  When those feelings were absent I feared faith was absent too.  Now I know the only water that is gentle and warm and smooth is a very small pond in a very isolated spot.  I want more than that.

I want the ocean with all its faces and moods and mysteries, a salty surface to buoy me to hold me up, keep me afloat in the glistening sun, ocean depths full of darkness, mystery, life, unexpected, unexplored, undiscovered.  I want faith that is refreshing and relaxing, like a vacation with God, and a faith that is challenging and fearsome and always holds something new in its depths.

When I shut myself in my office to pray I put a sign on my door that says, “In Conference.”  I think I want a new sign that says, “Gone to the Beach.”

Then along comes the surprising best seller- The Shack- by William Young.  This book has created quite a stir.  It was a self-published attempt of a man trying to explain his faith to his kids.  Now it is a best seller.

The Shack addresses many topics including: forgiveness, the church, evil, knowledge, etc.  It was never intended to be a theological work.  But a significant portion of the book gives an interesting depiction of the Trinity.

The main character, Mack, meets God in a shack in eastern Oregon.  There is a story that leads up to this encounter but that is another whole thing.  When Mack arrives there is a large African American woman named Papa, a young Hebrew carpenter named (you guessed it) Jesus, and an Asian woman named Sarayu.  These are the three persons of the Trinity.  They are each part of the others, all one, and yet all three distinct individuals.

The Shack's depiction of the Trinity has caused quite a stir in religious circles.  The conservatives have had fits that any part of the Godhead is depicted as a woman.  Papa actually goes on at great length explaining to Mack that s/he is neither male nor female.  She expresses herself to him as a woman because he has a number of father issues to work through in his own life and she did not want those to interfere with their relationship.

The critics also complain because Papa, Jesus and Sarayu are all equal participants in this one God.  Some folks think there is a hierarchy in God with the Father being over the Son and Spirit and the Spirit being subordinate to the Son and Father.  There is not much agreement on this issue.

So the depiction of the Trinity in the Shack is provocative and interesting.  How does it fit with your image?   Do you even have an image?  Does the Trinity mean anything to you or to your personal faith?

What really makes the ascension unique is that it seems to be the event in Jesus' life that we care about the least.  Why is that?  What does the ascension mean for your faith?  Is it important?

The ascension was considered so important by the early church folks that it is included in all our creeds.  They saw it as a foretaste of the great resurrection promised to us all.  It reminds me of an episode of Six Feet Under.  A couple of guys were moving a net filled with blow-up human dolls filled with helium.  The net broke and all the human forms began floating up into the sky.  A devout woman driving her car on the next street saw the bodies being called to heaven and thought it was the second coming.  She caused a crash and died.

In his most striking commentary on the Ascension Calvin says: "Since (Christ) entered heaven in our flesh, as if in our name, it follows, as the apostle says, that in a sense we already sit with God in the heavenly places in him (Christ). At the Ascension, our humanity, our "flesh," has been "taken" (Acts 1:11) by God's Beloved One into the very heart of God. This is profound good news for us as Christians and for our whole world. It means that we are more deeply valued, loved and held by God than we may have known before.

Does that do anything for you?

 In the passages we read this month from Acts they all seem to be about who is in and who is out.  Of course the catch is that with God being love, everyone is in.

 The issue in the days these passages were written was primarily between Jewish Christians and Gentiles who were converting.  The two groups were not what you would call BFFs. 

 So what are the places in your life where these issues come up?  What questions do you have about love?  About who is in and who is out and why?  Or is this all just old hat and you have heard it all before and wish we would move on to something more interesting?

I get a number of questions from folks about sin, or actually about forgiveness.  But how can we understand forgiveness if we do not understand sin?

So, what do you think of when you think of sin?  What pops into your head first?  How does it make you feel?  What questions does it raise for you?

If you can respond to any of these questions it will help me frame the sermon for this Sunday and I will be very grateful.

The answer to that question is the plot of the movie.  Flashbacks take us to points in Jamal’s life with his brother Salim and another orphan, Latika.  Jamal’s childhood crush on Latika turns into undying love and devotion.  He is convinced that they are meant to be together and that their love can overcome any obstacles.  Each flashback sequence supplies him with a valuable life lesson as well as an answer to the game show’s questions.

Through his life Jamal and his brother must make difficult choices about how to survive and who to trust.  Jamal learns the hard way not to trust “friends”, or authorities, or the powerful, or even family.  He trusts the power of love.  Because he trusts, he is willing to wait.  Yet, even while waiting everything he does is out of that love and the conviction of his destiny.

The contrasts in the movie are powerful- the rich and the poor, the good and the bad, compassion and self-interest.  This is a wonderful movie.

I need to catch up on some movie reviews...

Trouble The Waters is a documentary that begins with a young woman in New Orleans taking home video the day before Katrina. She interviews her friends and neighbors about the storm that has been predicted. The film continues through the storm and the aftermath. Using the home video along with actual news footage and documentary filmed later the movie is very engaging. Definitely not a feel good, but not a downer either. This is a film worth seeing.

Happy-Go-Lucky is a feel good movie. It is very funny and very entertaining. Nothing is very deep and yet there is real substance to the movie. Poppy is an elementary school teacher in London and she is happy in her life. The film follows her through her days as she encounters other happy people, people who are unhappy, and some folks who are down right nasty. It doesn't sound like much of a plot but it really is a wonderful story. If you are sick of all the bad news in the world this is a wonderful relief.

Secret Life of Bees is as good of a movie as it was a book. I read the book some time ago so I didn't remember all the plot turns but the movie felt very true to the original. The acting was excellent. This is a story of a young white girl and her black nanny who end up running away from home in the deep South during the Lyndon Johnson administration. The racism is real and heart wrenching but the story line is tender and heart warming. Human kindness in the midst of human hatefulness.

Quantum of Solace is the new James Bond movie. I went to this in order to be with people I love, not because I like James Bond movies. Since I have never liked a James Bond movie this one did not disappoint. I hated it. If you like this type of movie it was well done. My companions all enjoyed it immensely. I slept.

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is not a children's movie. This is a very adult treatment of the holocaust. The story focuses on the eight year old son of a Nazi soldier who has to move with his family so his dad can run a concentration camp. While exploring (beyond parental boundaries) he discovers the camp and meets an eight year old Jewish boy being held prisoner. The naiveté of the children and others is both refreshing and terrifying. Every character in the movie goes through dramatic changes as they learn more about their nation's treatment of the Jews. This movie is very powerful and raises a lot of feelings. Don't talk to anyone about it before you see it but be sure you have someone to talk to afterward.

Haven’t made it to the film festival yet but do have some movie comments to make…

Body of Lies- yuck. I did not like it at all. It demonstrated how we have great technology to win wars but we lack human intelligence. I guess I have trouble with war and torture being called entertainment. The acting was good but the story was fairly predictable- very bloody- and really so very sad as a commentary on life.

“W”- I am not sure why I went to this but I am so glad I did. I think it just felt so good to realize I have not been the only person in the country feeling that our President’s motives were less than I’d hoped for. I saw this the day before Colin Powell endorsed Obama and it was like a continuation of the movie. I recommend this one. The acting was great by all the cabinet members. Problem was I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry through most of it.

Last Mistress- depressing. I thought it was going to be a love story but it was really not about love. It was about control and about sex. I came out very, very sad.

Burn After Reading- I usually like the Coen brother’s movies. This one was so-so. The characters were fun and well acted. The story was bizarre. The whole thing just did not click for me. The over use of the F word was tiresome and it takes a lot for that to bother ME. It was a good show but nothing memorable.

Religulous- At the end of the film I wanted to ask the audience to remain seated and talk to me about what they thought. I would love to have known who they were and how they responded.

I happen to be one of those people who think Bill Maher is funny. Since this film is really more about Bill Maher than it is about religion, I thought it was funny. He is making fun of people of faith which is likely to offend some folks. The particular kinds of people of faith he chose to mock were easy targets. He really does talk only to fringe people- fanatics- literalists- odd balls. He claims you cannot be intelligent AND have faith. I happen to disagree with that assumption in general, but in the particular people he chose to talk with, I think he was right. (With the exception of Francis Collins who is brilliant and a man of deep religious convictions but then Maher did not really let him say much) His conclusions are not unlike those drawn by many devout believers- religion can be distorted and abused to the harm of innocent people. That is true. What he neglects to ask is whether anything good can come from it.

I love book referrals. Some of my favorite books are ones that a friend suggested I read. So why was I so suspicious when everyone started telling me I just had to read this great book called The Shack.

I read about the book first and I guess that made me suspicious. Mack is a 56 year old father of three, husband, fallen away Christian. While on a family vacation his youngest daughter, Missy, disappears and is assumed to be another victim of a child serial killer. The story begins several years later when Mack gets a note from God inviting him to the shack where Missy was killed after her abduction.

So it is one of those stories that is real and fantasy all mixed together. I usually have trouble with those, like The Lovely Bones. But my mother finally bought it for me to get me to read it and a church member hand delivered me another copy, so I decided it was time.

So have you read it? What did you think? Good? Bad? Mixed?

Let’s start with this- Just imagine you are in Mack’s shoes. You lost your youngest child to a savage murderer, while she was under your supervision. Your family has been irreparably damaged by the guilt, the loss and the sorrow. You have lost what little faith you had to begin with and feel totally abandoned by God. Now you have the opportunity to sit at the kitchen table and talk with God. God is a large African American woman who cooks delicious goodies to feed your hunger. (that is just the creator part, there is also a jesus and a spirit) You sit together, close enough to touch. You have God’s undivided attention and all the time in the world. What would you ask God?

Some days are just full of new adventures.  What fun.

Now after a year or more of attack ads I find I am much less excited. I used to think that the candidate I did not want to win would still make a bearable president. I am much less sure of that today. One year ago I was proud of the candidate I do want to win for being above nasty politics, name calling, etc. Today I am less proud.

Why do we have to turn people against our opponents?  Why can't I approve of the positions of one more than the other without hating either?  I get emails every day full of lies and attacks on both Obama and McCain.  I'd rather get messages telling me their strengths, their values, their commitments and let me choose the better of two goods.

It feels to me as if everyone has already made up thier minds and we are just trying to trash the other guy (or gal).  If my guy wins that is not a problem.  If my guy loses I am stuck with another president I have been taught to make fun of, distrust, and be ashamed of.  I don't want that for another four years.

So, here are some questions to consider...

Why was this story worth telling?

Did the book "Lamb" increase your interest in the biblical story?

What do you think will be your lasting impression of "Lamb"?

As I was listening to a news program last night, I watched in horror as Barack Obama made the statement with pride, 'we are no longer a Christian nation; we are now a nation of Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists. As with so many other statements I've heard him (and his wife) make, I never thought I'd see the day that I'd hear something like that from a presidential candidate in this nation.  To think our forefathers fought and died for the right for our nation to be a Christian nation--and to have this man say with pride that we are no longer that. How far this nation has come from what our founding fathers intended it to be.

Now regardless of whether a person is “for” or “against” Barak Obama, this statement is just so wrong.

We are NOT a Christian nation and we have NEVER BEEN a Christian nation.  What our forbearers died for was the right to be a nation that is not of any one faith.  There were attempts to include the words “Christian” and/or “Jesus” in the US Constitution when it was being written.  There have been attempts every so often since our country was founded to say that we are a Christian nation.  Each and every time the attempt has been made it has been soundly defeated because we are NOT a Christian nation, we are exactly what our forbearers intended us to be-  we are a secular nation where all faiths and doctrines are to be respected and permitted.

So like it or not, we are a nation of Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists and more.  And there is actually no way to blame that on Barak Obama.

Scary thought?  Somebody told me they did not think Biff was a good representitive of Jesus.  They thought Biff didn't take the whole Messiah thing seriously enough.  What do you think?

If you were the first person a seeker encountered what would they think about God?

I went to a dinner the other night and one of the speakers kept using the phrases "our Christian values" and "our Republican values" interchangably.  If I were a person looking for God I would have decided God is a republican, God is white, and I might not be welcome if I were neither.

In church last Sunday a young mom was sitting in a reserved pew (where we asked her to sit) with her family waiting for her son's baptism.  A member of the church came up and told her she was in her pew and she needed to move.  If she had been a person looking for God she would have decided God is set in traditional routines and not very welcoming.

If a person looking for God met Biff first what might that person believe about God?

If someone looking for God reads this blog what would it say to them?

I have just finished reading a book called "Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal" by Christopher Moore.

I laughed out loud through a good part of the book and some parts actually made me think.

So beginning in August I am going to lead a book study by BLOG on this book. I am telling you now so you have time to read it if you wish to participate. I have never done this before so I am not exactly sure how it will work but it should be fun. I am not issuing a general invitation to the whole congregation because many people would find this book offensive. Some would have difficulty with the use of the “F” word. Others might feel it makes fun of Christ and Christianity.Some people will find the book just plain stupid.  It does have thhose moments.  In the end, I think it just raises interesting possibilities and questions and I think it is funny. I don’t care if people disagree with my take on the book at all.My hope is that we can get some heated discussion around the book. I just don’t want to offend anyone.

So if you are interested start checking my BLOG on August 4th and try to read the book before then. If you know others who might be interested please feel free to pass this message along.  Happy reading.