Tuesday Prayer for 3/15/16: Lingering

Inspired by Luke 19:28-40

Dear God:

I remember the smell of palms.

I remember walking into church on

Palm Sunday morning and

Smelling the freshly cut palms.

It was a subtle smell but distinct like

Freshly cut grass or

Strawberries right out of the garden or

Almonds.

It was the sage of Easter with hints of Hosanna and victory over the grave.

This year I smell the dread that lingers with the palms.

The hint of decay that comes from a grave.

This was theater of the soul

- a spiritual gesture to the powers and principalities -

that mocked those who would assume to be King.

They marched on the Temple.

They chased out the money changers

and gatekeepers;

the liars and the lie makers;

The, now, interrupted demagogues who

who encouraged the abuse of those they called unworthy;

who deflected their blame by

pointing at the blameless from

other lands and

other religions; those

whose bodies they used to

build the foundations of their

Empire with

the blessing of those who damned themselves

when they called themselves

Religious.

This small group marched on this Temple in

Chicago. I mean

St. Louis. I mean

Cincinnati. I mean

Kansas City, I mean

Jerusalem and they

Shut it down.

They shut

It

Down.

Eventually, the soldiers acting as police were set on them.

They were beaten and spit on by offended mobs.

They killed one of them; one of their leaders but

first there were Hosannas

celebrations and the possibility of

change. There was hope

as there was dance and there was hubris and humor but something

Happened

Between Palm Sunday and Good Friday; as Passion faded

and fear began to insist on a reality that needed the

profit made from souls sold to

prop it up and something turned and the

Hosannas were mumbled.

The smell of freshly cut palms still lingered.

Speak your Hosanna.

Yell it if you can.

Scream it when they beat you.

Hosannas all over until...

Tuesday Prayer for 2/23/16: On the other side.

Inspired by Luke 13:1-9

Dear God:

I know, first hand, the corrosive power of shame.
This is that demon on my shoulder that tempts me in to living my life as though
I am (secretly) unlovable if people knew I…
Or had been around when I…
Or would find out that I…

It is that voice of accumulative decimation that seeks to more than balance out
The joy of any good I might do with whispers of
Corroded implications of motivation and
A withering look that makes me
Question my
Worth and
(On more than one occasion)
Has almost taken (the good of) my life away.

This demon points to these things and offers to protect me from them
by
Standing between me and them
and
Suggesting I am too weak to approach them
and
That they just might kill me
If I do.

God, please remind me what I already have been told by those who know better:
That those things that may make me
uncomfortable
are not always those things that make me
unsafe;
That these things are more likely to kill me when I avoid them;
That these things become stronger when I feed them my shame;
That sometimes I need to lift up some of these things and love them, first;
That some of these things are too heavy for me to lift alone;
That these are things I no longer need to live with;

That I can leave this place.

That on the exit door is enthusiastically scrawled one, joy offering word:

“Repent”

Amen.

Thursday Essay 2/18/16 Ordination Exam: Question #2

“ASSOCIATION REPRESENTATIVE: Do you, with the church throughout the world, hear the word of God in the scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, and do you accept the word of God as the rule of Christian faith and practice?

ORDINAND: I do.”

Almost a year and a half ago, I wrote one essay on the first of 8 questions asked of ordinands at their ordination. At that point, the plan was to write and post one every few weeks or so until I wrote a bit on all 8 of them. Well, it was a good plan, anyway.

However, the idea never went away. I officiate at most ordinations in the Pacific Northwest Conference and I’m the one who gets to ask these questions. Although I’m not the being asked to answer these questions, I feel the weight of them and some days it’s a check in around my own sense of call.

Like with most folks who take the Bible seriously, the rhetoric mixed up in ideologies of scripture sometimes gets in the way of my relationship with scripture. I can answer affirmatively to this question but I know different people hear different things. Like any relationship, not everything means the same for every person in the relationship.

I hear word of God in the scriptures but I don’t believe the scriptures are, in and of themselves, some transcription of God speaking. Scripture is the place where humanity has tried to transcribe what other humans believe, think, know and feel about God and that’s what makes the scriptures sacred; that striving to be in communication with God. Through that interaction, God comes through a lot of the time as do a lot of descriptions of what different humans believe is sacred, good and evil.

Scripture is the place where I am in dialogue with my spiritual ancestors about these themes as well as justice, faithfulness, power, humility, love and a thousand other topics. I do not always agree with my spiritual ancestors or like what they did or said but to ignore them is to our detriment. I am convinced that God is present in all relationships; sometimes encouraging us; sometimes challenging us; and sometimes challenging us to to remove or defend ourselves from that relationship. So, not every biblical person is someone I seek to emulate but there is something important I can learn from all of them even if it’s only to practice my “No.” The word of God emerges from these interactions.

And that all means that accepting “the word of God as the rule of Christian faith and practice” is not as simple a road as some would suggest. It means that “the rule” changes as the relationship with the word changes. It means there will be days of certainty, days of doubt and days of confusion as each of us try and figure out “the rule.” It means will have days when we will have to understand the gift of grace in a whole new way.

Tuesday Prayer for 2/16/16: All these things.

Inspired by Luke 13:31-35

Dear God:

This is what I was taught.

Courage is like a mountain top that

it is the realm of heroes and

once we arrive we never have to leave.

Courage

is

a

skill and once we have it

it stays.

A hero is courageous and those with courage are heroes.

The courageous are strong and able and certain.

The courageous sleep well and are

incorruptible.

fine.

My courage waxes and wanes like the moon;

Flows in and out like the tides;

Collapses under the weight of itself.

I am afraid I will not have enough of it when it is called for.

My courage sits there with it’s arms crossed while my fear

makes

a

scene.

My courage is just a little ragged and frazzled and has cramps from

crossing its fingers.

I do not meet courage on a mountain top but in the valley fog.

I have it in limited supply and some days getting out of bed uses it all up.

I think having a hero is natural but aspiring to be one is ridiculous.

If I were strong and able and certain, I would not need any courage

at all

because I would be strong, able and certain.

My courage stays up some nights biting its nails and thinking about calling in sick.

It makes deals and puts conditions on its emergence and misses many opportunities because the conditions it set were just one inch too high.

So, today, I hold it and hope I am not holding it back.

I hold it as though it has felt betrayed by gravity and failure and evil and fear and hope and love and joy and, well,

You.

Somewhere in all that it learns what it is and, as it does,

I inhale it. Deeply.

Before

I start

to Breathe.

Amen.

Tuesday Post for 1/26/16: 115200

Inspired by Luke 4:21-30

Dear God:

Most mornings, I’m the first person awake in my house. I

get the coffee going, look at the news a bit and, at some point I

just sit and stare out the window. The only traffic I

see on Rainier Avenue is the traffic that has to be there. I

see the busses go by; a police car with lights flashing but siren off. I

might see a taxi. I

love these moments before my beloved and my son are awake. I

need these moments. They have become so important to me that I

will put up being a little tired during the day. On the best 

(and the worst)

of these days

You and I talk. I don’t even believe in

You in this way; I don’t believe that 

You are exclusively a being (as much as being) or that 

You need me to say these things to hear me. I don’t believe that

You are somehow held back from action until I pray. I don’t believe that

You are just waiting to hear my list before

You heal, help or love.

You are healing.

You are help.

You are Love. Listening to

You means witnessing

Your constant unfolding 

and stirring 

in 

my 

heart. 

A heart beats 115,200 times every day.

I hear a rustling as my heart beats with 

the call of a day filled with 

115,200 choices.

Amen

Tuesday Prayer for 11/3/15: Praise

Inspired by Psalm 146

One: Let us dig down deep into the depth of our souls and find that place waiting to be free. Let dare to be the thankful, grateful, joyful people God invites us to be.

Many: I will praise the LORD as long as I live; I will sing praises to my God all my life long.

One: Let us dig down deep and and set free the power, hope and love that no person, system or authority can imprison forever. May we let it loose to share good and may we dare to do good.

Many: I will praise the LORD as long as I live; I will sing praises to my God all my life long.

One: God’s freedom is God’s gift. Chains will break and fall. People will be fed with food and friendship. Minds will be opened with creativity and commitment.

Many: I will praise the LORD as long as I live; I will sing praises to my God all my life long.

One: No one will be forgotten. No. One. Will. Be. Forgotten.

Many: I will praise the LORD as long as I live; I will sing praises to my God all my life long.

All: Amen.

PNC Wildfire Updates (8/28/15)

Dear sisters and brothers:

Last week, we sent out a call to prayer and let all of you know about a fund we established for Those effected by the wildfires. Please keep those prayers coming for all those effected. Windstorms and possible lightning are predicted to roll through today and tonight...  If you or your church would like to, you can send a check to our offices (325 N. 125th St. Seattle, WA 98118) with "Disaster Relief: Washington" in the memo line. If you would like to Donate online, you can go to our website (www.pncucc.org) and click on the "DONATE NOW" button to do the same. Even though the memo line says "Washington" these funds will first be used within the bounds of the Pacific Northwest Conference (Washington, North Idaho, Alaska).

Over the last week, I've been part of a few conversations to begin to determine how we might be able to help (including conversations with ecumenical partners; communication with our national offices; communication with our own Disaster Response Ministries coordinator Rev. Ken Coleman; and a conference call with several of our clergy on the east side of the mountains last night).  A few ideas are emerging. Forgive a long email but the hope is that by putting out more ideas here, we might find the places we can best respond. As you will read, the potential responses are as fluid as the situation itself.

• Material needs: There are some organizations that are already doing great work supporting those who have been most directly effected by these fires. At this point, they're all saying not to send any donations of materials like clothes, sheets, etc. At this point, they have more than what they need. If this changes, we'll hear about it.
• Service needs:
• The call for skilled volunteers to fight the fires in Washington ended today. They have more help that they need which is wonderful.
• There is some need for places where farm animals can be housed. As we have more information about this, we'll share it or if you know more about this, please share that information here in a reply to this list.
• Air quality concerns came up for every church that was on the eastside call.  We discussed one particular possibility and a question came up after the call:
• a) We wondered if our churches might be places where appropriate air quality masks and a one page information sheet about dealing with poor air quality could be shared. If you are a medical professional with expertise in respiratory issues and would be willing to help us think this through, please email me or call me directly at 206-725-8383 .
• b) What if we helped those who might be most vulnerable make their homes more resistant to smoke penetration? If you have expertise or experience in this, please contact me.
• As far as long term recovery efforts, some of our ecumenical partners who have experience in local fire recovery have been contacted to see if we might be able to join them in their recovery work.
• Pastoral needs:
• The threat of fire, the ever present reality of smoke, and the possibility that these weather patterns may "the new normal" is causing significant stress. On the phone call last night, we discussed putting together some sort of training for clergy so that they can be a resource for members of their congregations and communities. If this is an area of expertise for you, contact me. If you are aware of a helpful resource, please share those resources here.
• Advocacy work:
• There was also the recognition on the phone meeting that one important response to these fires is increasing our advocacy work related to climate change. Among our churches, we already have great relationships with faith based organizations such as Earth Ministry and FAN that are involved in this work. There is interest in expanding this work.
• We also are part of a denomination that has long been involved in environmental justice work. In fact, there is an UCC Environmental Justice Training coming to our Camp N-Sid-Sen October 7th-9th. If you are interested, there is still time to register.

There are some other things under consideration, too and, as those develop, I'll be happy to share them.

Please continue to pray both for those effected by these fires as well as for God's guidance in helping us discern how to best respond.

Peace.

Mike

Rev. Michael Denton
Conference Minister
Pacific Northwest Conference

 of

The United Church of Christ

Visit my blog: Thoughts and Prayers...

*Please note, I take sabbath time from Sunday after church through Tuesday morning.  I'll respond after that time.

Tuesday Prayer for 8/25/15: Burning

Dear God of the not Burning Bush,
Of Sacrificial Flame,
Of Pentecost Fire,
We are living in the midst of burning and of smoke.

The land thirsts for water and everything has become kindling.
The storms bring a fire setting spark
As well as a wind that both stokes the flames
And sends embers into the air

like seeds.

The flame burns that which is of the just and the unjust, alike.
The smoke fills the lungs of the just and the unjust, alike.
The ash covers the just and the unjust, alike.
The reddened sun beats down on the just and the unjust, alike.

It does not break us but
It wears us down.

Yes, this fire destroys and makes way for creation.
The destruction part is very hard.

It bares down and screams and roars and charges right at us
In a rage. There is no gentleness to it.
This is not river but a flood;
This is not a breeze but a tornado;
This is not a tide but a tsunami and
We are in its way.

Our will and the weather have conspired.
It burns what we have built.
We have prepared the fuel for the fire
With the hope it would never burn.
We mourn this big burning and what it does
While we burn millions of small fires
And, sometimes, deny their effect.

Right now, there is this burning...

May we find a way to be
God's blessing for those
who have lost so much.

God bless the firefighters
Who risk their lives
Protecting what we have gathered.

Amen.

The Horrifying Cost Paid for the Removal of One Flag

Almost a month to the day that nine people were murdered by a white supremacist, lone wolf terrorist in South Carolina, a confederate flag flying over that state's capitol grounds was lowered and moved to their historical archives. It was removed by an honor guard in a service of solemn prayers, contrite speeches and live media coverage. Governor Nikki Haley spoke and said:

“It is a new day in South Carolina, a day we can all be proud of, a day that truly brings us all together as we continue to heal, as one people and one state.”

There was a part of me that was relieved. The flag debate dominated the headlines for days. The longer it went on, the longer my own discomforting white liberal embarrassment continued.  Once the vote happened, it felt like "the days of cringing" were finally at an end. Whew.

One step closer to a freer, more just and colorblind America...

Or not. 

I recognize that removing this flag is no small thing but the value of its removal has been grossly overinflated. The vote was far from unanimous (94 to 20) and took almost a month of debate. It was taken down by an honor guard with more pomp and circumstance that some visiting presidents have received. This was a symbolic act that, realistically, will have little impact on most people's day to day lives. The damned flag will still fly. Just not there.

I keep doing the math and its clarity horrifies me. There were nine African American church members who were killed during a church service. Among them were several ministers, a librarian, a new college graduate, a college administrator, a pastor's spouse, trusted community elders, a coach, a church sexton and a state senator. They were all loved by the families and communities they loved and served. The nation and the world generally seemed shocked, horrified and appalled. The President condemned these murders and spoke at the funeral of one those slaughtered. There was already the growing, strong and mobilized Black Lives Matter movement that had the ability to quickly integrate the fight against the flying of a confederate flag and loan it momentum. 

Yes, the removal of this flag from the grounds of the South Carolina State Capitol was a win but I keep doing the math. It took the death of these nine as well as years of actions and strategies to make this one significant symbolic action happen.

Dear God. By that same math, what's it really going to take to end - or even just reduce - legally justified racist practices? How widely spread does suffering have to be to bring the societal discomfort level up to a point that change is insisted on? When moments make the problem clear we default to symbolic actions. When movements try and make it clear, the movements are critiqued and blamed for somehow causing the pain.

One of the most repeated quotes by Dietrich Bonhoeffer is:

“Cheap grace is the grace we bestow on ourselves. Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession…”

Considering the removal of this one flag as the answer to this particular act of white supremacy based terrorism is cheap justice, an effort at cheap reconciliation, and an effort at cheap atonement.  The fact that the removal of a flag is being lifted up as somehow equal to the cost of 9 lives and years of activism makes it clear, in horrifyingly stark terms, the incredible amount of work and the number of lives it is going to take to change anything in any meaningful way.  

The horrifying reality is how many deaths it’s taken to get a significant number of people to really pay attention - with more than a shrug of the shoulders and a shake of the head - about police brutality against African Americans, alone.  Think about it. It took graphic pictures of dead bodies being left in the middle of the street, videos of people being beat, videos of people being choked to death, videos of people being shot dead by police - and brutality against thousands of people whose names before them whose names we’ll never know - for police brutality to get significant national and international attention and even then, as the Sandra Bland video illustrates, it continues.  

What, in God’s name, is it going to take to begin to address discriminatory hiring practices, intentionally underfunded educational systems, biased criminal sentencing, etc.?  What, in God’s name, is it really going to take to begin to address similar and worse experiences for other racial ethnic groups? What, in God’s name, is it going to take to meaningfully address the victimization of those with mental illness? What, in God’s name, is it going to take for us to address a financial system that needs impoverished folks for it to function?

The Black Lives Matter movement has been critiqued by many for pushing too hard, too loudly and too insistently. As the cost paid for the removal of one flag has become clearer, it’s also becoming clearer that, compared to what will really be needed, the most recent actions have been tame.

Many of those who are part of Black Lives Matter movement gather this week in Cleveland and my prayers are with them. When I say that I am not talking about cheap prayer in the same type of the cheap grace mentioned above.  The late Walter Wink wrote of prayer in his book Engaging the Powers:

“Prayer is rattling God's cage and waking God up and setting God free and giving this famished God water and this starved God food and cutting the ropes off God's hands and the manacles off God's feet and washing the caked sweat from God's eyes and then watching God swell with life and vitality and energy and following God wherever God goes. When we pray we are not sending a letter to a celestial White House, where it is sorted among piles of others. We are engaged, rather, in an act of co-creation, in which one little sector of the universe rises up and becomes translucent, incandescent, a vibratory centre of power that radiates the power of the universe. History belongs to the intercessors, who believe the future into being.”

This kind of prayer is a commitment. 

Let us pray...

"...leaping and dancing before the Lord." : Tuesday prayer for 7/14/15

Inspired by 2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19 and other things

From http://www.dancingphysicist.com/venn-diagram-of-my-life/

Dear God:

I used to dance.

I remember a time when I was 14.  I was at some sort of dance and everyone else was around the same age - a beautiful gathering of the awkward. We all started bouncing. We all jumped up and down in the closest we could get to unison. We were all smiling and laughing and sweating and impressed with ourselves for doing something wonderful. We smilingly speculated if the floor might collapse (under the weight of all that joy). We were charismatics.

When I was in college, it was not unusual that I was the first person out on the dance floor. It was the late 80’s so I wore a lot of black and the music seemed angsty but was really delicious for those of us who were so relieved that someone had figured out how to put our own angstiness to a beat. As was the time, my feet would move out of the beat and my body would move with it. It was a dance resiting dance and I loved it and could do it and it felt honest. It was mystical and secret.

Then, I forgot how to dance.

I don’t know what happened. I can’t name one particular moment or another when I stopped.  It was like I was injured or something. My head became too heavy for my body to carry and I felt pressed firmly into my seat; my feet melted into the floor and became the same as it. I look at dancers now and can feel what they are doing but can’t do it. Once in awhile, a dance will emerge but then it’s noticed and I notice and then it ends.

Yesterday, I came home from work and music was playing. Our two and half year old yelled out, “Daddy! Daddy! Come dance around the table!” and I walked up the stairs in to our apartment to find my two beloveds running/marching/dancing around our dinner table. I did not think. I did not think. I was pulled into the whirlpool and we all laughed and smiled and sweated in the summer heat.  There were berries on that table; a water bottle; a random fork.  We could have lit the candles.

A prayer would be sung later before a meal of summer corn; chard from the garden Lauren tends; meatballs; and cold, white wine.

Food would fall on the floor;

Water would be poured on the table;

Small hands would smack the spilled water with divine exuberance.

The water splashed on my face and I remembered.

Amen.