Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Thursday Essay 10/9/14 Ordination Exam: Question #1
For me, it became clear when I was 19 and helping lead a youth retreat. They used a Tony Campolo video as one of the conversations starters and in it he was talking about hypocrisy in the church. I was right there both reflecting on what I’d see in church and seen in my own life. Church was not feeling like a great fit. Then Tony said something along the lines of “When you walk in to a hospital, you don’t ask ‘What are all these sick people doing in here?’ Why are we so surprised to find hypocrites in the church?” It felt like a door gently opened and I was able to walk through it saying, “I’m going to be a minister.” It took me almost 10 years to get to a point where ordination seemed like a fit but, somewhere along the way, that outward and inward persuasions met and I was formed in to a minister. That’s not to say I feel like one every day or am always thankful I am one. There are days I want to be doing anything else but, almost always, a door gently opens and I walk through it once more.
That’s enough for this first essay. If you got this far, thanks for sticking with it. Peace.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Tuesday Prayer for 10/7/14: Wholiness
Amen.
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Tuesday Prayer for 9/16/14: Enough (Part 2)
Dear God;
So, um, thanks for answering my prayer
(I think)
but, uh, why did you answer it with this?
I was thinking of something more than this
enough.
I have enough
enough.
I have enough
enough.
I called out
I complained
I pleaded
but apparently I wasn't clear.
I wanted certainty,
clarity,
and security
for
ever.
This
enough
is bland and
smaller than I expected and
more fragile than I wanted and
does not solve all my problems.
Enough.
Hm.
Amen
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Tuesday Prayer for 9/2/14: No Wonder
Inspired by Exodus 3:1-15
Dear God;
So, let me get this right...
The bush was burning but not burning.
You called to Moses to come towards the bush but to stay right where he was.
Once Moses found out who was calling, he didn't want to look.
This is the problem with these stories.
This is the problem:
We see bush and tree and prairie grass burning - actually burning - as the planet we're trying to kill dries up and catches fire. The air smells like smoke. We barely pay attention.
We hear gods, all these little gods, calling from our headsets, TV sets and billboards and we twist and turn and shift and pivot. We run towards them. We stay, no where.
And, looking at you? We know everything. We are not impressed by "mystery." Google it. We will stare you in the eye until
you
blink
(or fade
away).
These stories...
Pay attention?
Stay?
Hold on to a mystery?
This is what leads to liberation?
Pay attention?
Stay?
Hold on to a mystery?
Tell the truth?
Talk about consequences?
Trust some sort of lurching, holy process?
Wander your way home?
No wonder, God.
No wonder.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Tuesday Prayer for 8/19/14: What We Pick Up
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.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Idol Worship
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, August 12, 2014
Tuesday Prayer for 8/12/14:
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, May 27, 2014
Tuesday Prayer for 5/27/14: Us
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Tuesday Prayer for 4/15/14: Complicit
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.