Tuesday Prayer for 8/19/14: What We Pick Up

inspired by Ferguson and Exodus 1:8-2:10


Dear God:

Help us choose; help us know; help us hear; help us act.

Paying attention is a daily exercise of joy.  There are new wonders every day.  Healing heals hopelessness.  Beauty and awe calm fear.  Love blooms in fields of apathy.  There is so much to dance about.  We could dance ourselves right in to exhaustion.

Help us choose; help us know; help us hear; help us act.

Paying attention is a daily exercise of heartbreak.  We find new ways to hurt each other every day.  Fear laughs in our face.  Our strident of "Never Again!" becomes a broken, mumbled "Not again..."  We figure out a new way to cause pain or to ignore it.  We spin and pivot towards all the pain that needs attention without taking a step towards any of it.  We could spin and pivot ourselves right in to exhaustion.

Help us choose; help us know; help us hear; help us act.

Help us take a moment to take a deep breath (take a deep breath);
Help us take a moment to let our heartbeat slow (let your heartbeat slow);
Help us take a moment to be aware of where we are (be aware of where you are)
Help us take a moment to close our eyes (close your eyes).

Help us choose; help us know; help us hear; help us act.

What do you hear?  What do you see?  Might that be your call?

Help us choose; help us know; help us hear; help us act.

Do you hear the music of creation that calls you to dance and to rest?  Do the words of a poem begin to unfold like a painting?  Does a painting unfold like a poem?  Do you find yourself smiling?

Help us choose; help us know; help us hear; help us act.

Do you see a person dying in the street?  Can you hear the earth being torn?  Can you hear explosions and weeping?  Is there a baby floating in a basket among the bullrushes?

Help us choose; help us know; help us hear; help us act.

Amen.

Idol Worship

Lauren's family has an old farmhouse her grandparents bought a little more than 50 years ago in the North Country of New Hampshire.  Out the front windows you can see a beautiful pasture ringed by trees with rolling mountains not so far in the distance.  We can watch weather roll in when the sun's up and watch fireflies compete with stars at night.  Leo gets to run down paths mowed through the tall grass to the pond where he wanders around in the water; a little deeper every day.  There are far off highway sounds, an airplane flies overhead once in a while, an occasional car passes on the dirt road but, overall, its quiet here.

The farmhouse itself is old, well loved and maintained just enough.  The floors are crooked.  Some of the windows rattle a bit when the wind blows.  There are post-it notes to remind you of all the little quirks that are part of staying here.  The wallpaper is old and, in some places, there are a few visible places where its peeling or the wall is cracked a bit.  

These walls hold within them a collection of varied furniture that does the job; books that are functional or left behind for vacation reading; pictures of people I have never had the pleasure of meeting and others long before I met them.  There are board games in the cupboards and varieties of different sized plates to choose from, too.  There is a small piece of wood on a shelf with a bit of old fungus on it that sits next to a wild turkey feather.  There are empty blue vases on the window sill.  These are the little things that might be discarded other places but are treasurers here.  This place is filled with these little signs of awe.

This is an imperfect place and that's one of the things that makes it so perfect.  I walk in and I melt a little bit as I'm greeted with the faint smell of mothballs that, here, are a kind of incense.  My vacation beard starts to grow.  I'm not as worried if the shirt I grab in the morning is the clean one as much as the closest one.  I smell more like a human being and less like what we wash with.  There is no internet and whether or not you get any phone signal at all really seems to depend on the weather.  I pray for weather here that makes life difficult for everything that beeps, rings or electronically chimes.

The time here helps give perspective on perfection; that false god that so many of us are seduced into worshipping and have become so increasingly tired of trying to serve or resist.  This is the god that demands more and more of us; that god that critiques and critiques.  This is the god that feeds off of insomnia, tight shoulders and nauseous stomachs.  This is the god that mocks us as we buy more, try to be more and fit more than is possible in to a day.  This is the god that laughs when we fight with each other over scraps of impossible goals.  This is the god that takes the most beautiful pillow you have ever seen and slowly presses is down harder and harder over the face of that which is beautiful and true in all of us.  Perfection is, ultimately, an evil god.

I pray most days and on many of those days some sort of confession is a part of my prayer; not all but many.  On the worst days, I feel as though I am just rocking back and forth with my confession; my body wracked with sobs.  Other times I'm bragging to God and then it turns in to an "Oh shit" as I realize what I thought I did so well might have been coming from the wrong place and actually been the wrong thing.  Many days, its just trying to cope with that underlying feeling of not being enough or really being any good to anyone.  On days I feel God's presence, the response my heart sees is remarkably similar.  God rocks and nods with God's whole body.  God empathetically grimaces.  Then God pause, slowly nods and says, "I know.  Its OK."  There's no shame, just the gentle recognition of reality also known as forgiveness.  It doesn't take all of what I feel away but helps move a little bit of the rubble out of the way forward; a path that is meandering, odd, imperfect and just beautiful enough. 

Tuesday Prayer for 8/12/14:

Dear God:

Help me to be honest with my forgiveness
and my asking for it.

I used to think we were
anointed
with oil and things that came to us
could
slide
off.

We are
anointed

with tar.

Everything that touches us sticks.
Everything takes time, recognition and intention to remove.
Everything has a residue.

Forgiveness, true forgiveness, recognizes what remains and
stains and
scars and
changes and

trusts love

to do

what love

must do.

Amen.

Tuesday Prayer for 5/27/14: Us

(inspired by John 17:1-11)

Dear God:

It is hard to wake up in the morning 

knowing 

so much 

has been left 

to us.

Remind us, 

throughout this day,

that it is “us”

Not “me.”

Amen.

Tuesday Prayer for 4/15/14: Complicit

"There must be something you want.
Everybody wants something."

I had a list in my head but I wasn't going to share it.

"Just tell me what you want."

But I didn't want to tell him.

"No strings attached.  Honest.  Just take what you need."

I was pretty sure I knew where the money had come from.

"This money is mine, free and clear.  I just want to get rid of it.
Take. Some."

And a little extra would help.
Some of those things I want...
They would be helpful.
They'd save me time so I could spend more with
Family
And
Friends.
I could help people.
I could share these things like he was sharing.

"Tell you what.  You can just take what you need.
DON'T tell me what its for just
Take. Some."

But what if others knew?
What if they knew I took this money?
I knew where it had come from.
This money
Was
Not
Clean.
As if reading my mind he said,

"Tell you what.  No one has to know.
Would this help?
If anyone finds out it'll be because you told them.
Take.
Some.
Use it for a good purpose.  I know you will.
Take.
Some."
And he held it out to me

And I took a piece of silver
From Judas's hand.

Tuesday Prayer for 4-8-14 MONEY

Inspired by Matthew 26:14-27:66 and
The Church Building and Loan Fund Visioning Retreat


Dear God:

Bless those who handle the money.
Help us know what money is.

As we move in to this week - this holy and horrible week - we are so aware of
the moneychangers' tables that
Jesus

flipped.
We are aware of the 30 pieces of silver that felt heavier
and heavier
in Judas' hands and turned
a kiss
into
a
weapon.
We are aware of those ways in which fear of financial realities
make us afraid to be faithful.

Bless those who handle the money.
Help us know what money is.

We are aware that sometimes we hold on to a penny
so tightly
that the edges cut us like a knife's blade.
We are aware that we use our paper
like a shield.
We are aware of we do not feel like
forgiven
debtors.

Bless those who handle the money.
Help us know what money is.

We are aware of these things.

Bless us.
Help us.

Amen.

April '14 Monthly Letter

The closing of the Alban Institute (www.alban.org) has shaken me up a bit.  I don't ever remember a time in my church involvement (I was born in '68 and they were born in '74) when they weren't referred to or talked about at some point.  When many of you contacted me to provide a resource for your local church about things related to governance, personnel, evaluations or conflict it wasn't at all unusual that I'd pass an Alban resource your way.  Their work was - at least - always a firm place to begin with good experience, research and a calm voice to back it up.  One of their consultants in particular - Roy Oswald - helped make topics like conflict, clergy burnout, and self-care so gently real that they were almost boringly normative.  I learned just as much from what they wrote as I learned about how they wrote.  It can be cliche to say something like "I don't know what I'll do without them" but, in this case, its true.

That doesn't mean there aren't other good - or even some better - resources for the the local church.  The UCC helped start The Center for Progressive Renewal (CPR) in 2010 and they're one of the best church consulting organizations around.  Their list of consultants and resources are growing every day (if you haven't done so already, its worth taking some time to check out their website: www.progressiverenewal.org).  Although no one knows, for sure, what the next Church will look like CPR is helping lead the conversation and the movement in that direction.  They've pulled together an amazingly smart group of insightful leaders who know how to talk about what they do and think.  The work they do challenges me...

...and I don't always like that.  Part of the reason I had such a warm place in my heart for Alban was that they helped give meaning and value to the mainline church experience in a way that was comforting.  It reassured the mainline church sensibilities than ran deep in me.  The traditional, mainline church bored me when I was growing up but gave me comfort as an adult.  For awhile, I walked away from the church and questioned everything it did.  I, like so many others in my late teens and early twenties, looked for more of a mystical relationship with the Holy that I really didn't find in the churches in which I grew up where it felt as though things were done more by rote than with meaning.  Along the way, I found the Quakers and was sure that was going to be my path.  They sat and listened and left room for the Spirit in a way I had not previously experienced.

However, it was in attending a church service where the pastor gave a controversial sermon that I found myself moved in a way that I thought was impossible.  Some of those who walked out during the sermon came back for communion and shared from the same loaf and the same cup.  Instead of this feeling hypocritical, it felt like a deeply honest expression of brokenness and hope.  I had seen conflict and disagreement in churches and witnessed some of the awful ways people had fought with each other...  but here was the loaf and the cup.  I had felt the unfair expectations that some in the church put on others.... but here was the loaf and the cup.  I had been part of debates advocating for social justice that became personal and toxic... but here was the loaf and the cup.  When, during the postlude, the organist played some of those deep notes that feel like butterflies in your stomach it was as though I heard the organ played for the very first time.  I almost felt like some sort of prodigal son who had found his way home.  I still ended up moving from the denomination I grew up in to another denomination but that switch felt more like moving out of my parents house to another place on the same block.  It was, essentially, moving from one comfortable place to a more comfortable place.

Comfort, however, can cause one to settle and cause one to judge success based on the degree of comfort.  I think that, to some degree, the level of comfort provided has been the mainline church's definition of success.  The problem is that, when I read the Gospels, Jesus' call is to love and, although loving can include giving comfort, love is much bigger than just that.  It is a call and challenge to live in to the fullness of being what God believes we can be.  Its not simply trying to confirm what we would like to always be true and what we hope would never change.

The closure of Alban makes me uncomfortable.  The work of CPR frequently challenges me.  Both of these organizations are expressions of love, faith and integrity.  The learnings of Alban continue and add to the separate momentum of CPR's work.  Together, they teach me lessons about letting go and stepping out.  Together, they teach me lessons about the honesty of endings, the danger in simply continuing, and the necessity of prying ourselves away from the comfort of familiarity.

May our mourning and discomfort be overwhelmed with gratitude and hope for a Church that isn't dying but - maybe, just maybe - remembering what it means to live.

Prayer reflecting on the mudslide in Oso, Washington

Dear God:

When the hills crumble...
When the mountains fall...
When the rivers rise...
When all is swept away...
When people are swept away...

When our words, even, are swept away...

You are with us in the silence between the silences and
you know

that will not
always
feel

like
enough.

And yet,

You remain.
(...)

May we make a space for you as
we mourn and
we rage and
we question and
we reject and
we HOPE and
WE PLAN and
WE REBUILD AND
WE FIND OUR HOME AGAIN

on this ground that shifts
on this earth that spins
among those stars that are always, always moving...
Unsteady, frightening

and beautiful.

So today
help us know
- among all that has been lost -
you remain.

So today,
We pray for those lives that were lost.
(...)

We pray for those lives forever altered.
(...)

We pray for those that came to help.
(...)

We pray for guidance as we seek ways to help.
(...)

Amen.

Tuesday Prayer for 3/25/14 (ish)

At some point after the time he died,

At some time around the same time he felt the loving embrace of God,

Fred Phelps realized he’d been wrong.

I imagine there were looks of painful incredulity

As the realization dawned upon him,

As he received the grace of God,

As he received the care of the angels.

And as they laid him down and

gently washed away his fear and

tenderly washed away his anger

and they carefully removed that part from him -

those experiences he’d had -

that had made him feel justified

in causing so many others

so much pain

At that moment,

because of the joy that Fred Phelps felt

- feeling the loving embrace of God and

the care of the angels -

and because Fred Phelps was forgiven

and because Fred Phelps was loved

at that moment Fred Phelps

cried in mourning

and

thankfulness.

These tears, even these tears,

they were gathered

and they were added to the stream of justice that

flows like a river and

that stream of righteousness that flows like a

never-failing stream.

These tears were added to the tears of those who cried

when they heard hateful notions attributed to God.

These tears were added to the tears of those who cried

when their loved ones were treated like hated ones.

These tears were added to the tears of those who cried

when someone they thought loved them said that Fred Phelps 

was right.

All those tears are holy water that

strangely and miraculously

are used for the baptisms of those who

become known

as sinners

and saints

as forgiven.

At some point after the time he died,

At some time around the same time he felt the loving embrace of God,

Fred Phelps 

saw 

a 

sign.

Tuesday Prayer for 1-28-14

Dear God:

Stop me.

Slow me down.

Do not make the way straight.

Do not remove all obstacles from my path.

Do not even part the Red Sea…

Not this time.

Help me seek out all the sabbaths and know they’re holy.

Help me build an altar here and stay for awhile.

Help me sit and pray.

Sit.

And.

Pray.

Slow me down.

Slow me down.

Slow me down

Slow me down.

Amen.