Morning Coffee

Beloved,

Today the sun shines brightly here in the Pacific Northwest, and the wind cuts cold, slicing through  the hand-made cap upon my head, finding just the right pathway through the neckline of my jacket in order to touch that shoulder that aches a bit when the seasons change.  So, I bundle up a little tighter, pour myself a cup of coffee and wrap up in a thick blanket to sit on the patio rocking chair to listen to the birds sing the last few praises before they travel south to avoid the winter storms.  I can see my breath.  Steam from my coffee fogs up my glasses.

Breathing in deeply, I feel the cold air rush into my lungs.  It remains there, pausing for a long moment, growing warmer as oxygen moves into my bloodstream.  Taking its place, the toxins, the used energy, are returned to my core.  The chill has completely dissipated.  I exhale slowly, wondering if you can feel what I feel, and see what I can see.

My Morning View - Photo by Trista Wynne

The branches of the trees in the green space are now exposed.  Waving proudly in their nakedness, they are not ashamed.  If only I could be so bold!

My lips have lost their moisture now - stolen by the frigid wind - that rascally thief!  The warm liquid soothes them, if only for a moment.  My coffee is losing its comforting properties to the same bandit that wicked away the softness of my skin.  I do not care.  I am here with you.  For this moment, that is enough.

Vacuuming, Planting and the Intangibility of Ministry

In the last couple of months, a good portion of my time has been dedicated to helping to develop a contemplative prayer service on Wednesday nights in my worship community and aiding in the guidance and supervision of religious development of senior high youth in an inter-religious fellowship.  Online development of blogs, social media networking and the planning and implementation of worship services all take time.  The effectiveness of this spent time, however, is not always able to be quantified or evaluated.  The support of ministry is somewhat intangible.

During this time frame since my weekday job came to an end, I have used a large portion of my time in soul-searching, the tending and healing of old wounds, evaluation of my intended career pathway(s) and filling out applications and online inquiries for job postings that look like they may be fulfilling for me.  Since I have not yet found a position that fills these weekdays, much of my free time has gone towards housekeeping and self-care.  Just as the support ministries listed above, neither of these things are really able to be evaluated.  Although a clean house is nice, it doesn't stay that way for long.

While vacuuming this morning, my soul once more was directing its attention to our Creator.  I was inquiring about the direction in which to travel to bring economic security to our household (although my husband is working full-time, I need to bring in at least a partial income to supplement what he provides while I await my ordination and, hopefully, full-time ministry work).  Continuing in my housework, I simply watch and wait on the Beloved's response.  The Spirit had something to say today as the vacuum passed to and fro on the office carpet.

All is intangible, She whispered.  All that I have called you to in this time is preparing you for the intangibility of ministry.  You plant the seeds of faith in every kind of soil that I place in front of you.  You preach and teach, you hold the hands of the wounded and broken, you guide and advise the peoples who are looking for direction, you pray for everyone you see and hear, and you point people towards My work in your midst.  But that is as far as your work can go.  Everything else is up to Me.

My thoughts turned towards the bulbs I planted last fall and those that I added to the soil this fall.  Not all of them will sprout.  Some have already been stolen by the squirrels who need a little extra sustenance for their winter nests.  Others simply do not have the DNA structure within them to support a full blossom in the warm months.  A couple of them have already started to sprout and their tiny shoots will be frozen over when the winds of winter blow through.  I have no control over any of those factors.  Granted, I can cover the ground with chicken wire or stones to attempt to thwart the advances of the squirrels, and I can insulate the tender shoots with peat moss and leaves to try and protect them from winter's effects.  But, in these preventative measures, my options are limited simply on account of our dwelling in a rental property.

Planting in my Garden - Photo by Trista Wynne

I understand why some church leaders and certain personalities are drawn towards the tangibility of membership numbers and financial contributions.  These things are quantifiable.  They can be judged and thus give some people a goal towards which to proceed.  We've saved x number of souls this month and baptized y converts, some might boast.  Our staff includes more people than you have attending your congregation, another might say.  Competition sets in and self-assurance soars -- that is, until the numbers begin to decline and self-identity begins to spiral downward.

The ministry that Jesus calls me to is not one that appeals to that sort of power jockeying.  My identity can not be based on such things.  I have come to learn that my self-image needs to stand on its own, content to be dwelling in the arms of our Beloved.

Perhaps this is why I have been called into this time of transitional rest.  As my soul and mind are gently healed from the wounds of old and I am working towards ordination, I am called to lay my cares and concerns into the hands of the One who is guiding my path.  I am simply called into Relationship.  This is my preparation for ministry, so that I can firmly say with the apostles of old:

For my part, I am going to boast about nothing but the Cross of our Master, Jesus Christ. Because of that Cross, I have been crucified in relation to the world, set free from the stifling atmosphere of pleasing others and fitting into the little patterns that they dictate. Can’t you see the central issue in all this? It is not what you and I do—submit to circumcision, reject circumcision. It is whatGod is doing, and he is creating something totally new, a free life! All who walk by this standard are the true Israel of God—his chosen people. Peace and mercy on them! (Gal. 6:14-16, The Message)