Offering - Lent 2014, Week 1

Gracious Creator, I am no longer my own but yours. Put me to what you will; rank me with whom you will. Let me be employed by you or laid aside, exalted for you or brought low. Let me be full, let me be empty. Let me have all things, let me have nothing. I yield all things to your pleasure and disposal. (from John Wesley's Covenant Prayer)

Tonight, I am meditating on these words and wondering about the implications of praying in such a way.  Are we able to honestly pray these words?  Do we invite Divine to truly shape and mold us?  Do we truly desire to be like the One many of us know as the Christ? Are we willing to be laid aside, brought low and to become completely empty of ego and self-seeking?

It's easy to pray for half of these things -- to invite abundance, exaltation and fullness. That, however, is only part of the prayer.  To walk the Lenten road -- to invite times of unemployment, times of scorn or rejection, times of emptiness, loneliness or darkness without turning away in fear is to open ourselves up to the rest of the story.  In many spiritual traditions, the faithful are invited into times of fasting, meditation and prayer. 

My husband’s tribe, like many of our Native brethren, sends young men (and sometimes women) into the wilderness to learn their spiritual calling, to develop their courage, to conquer fear, and to open themselves up to adulthood.  Food or drink is limited or cut-off before the journey, and the seeker becomes a finder of themselves and Divine.  When they return, a feast is prepared, and initiation rituals commence.  They often receive a new name as they sing the song that they receive from their guardian(s) and enter the fullness of adulthood. 

Likewise, our tribal friends in Mexico participate in times of fasting from certain foods and activities as they prepare to journey to sacred sites asking for wisdom, guidance, healing and help that they can bring back to their people.  Pilgrims along the journey often encounter strong resistance both from inside themselves and from forces of nature as part of their learning and strengthening.  This is true for many of our ancestral traditions throughout the world.

Despite the ancestral invitation to participate in such emptying, I admit that I struggle to pray in this way.  It is difficult to invite Divine Love to compress me into something that feels makes me feel useless, laid aside or empty.  It seems counter-intuitive.  This prayer and the practice of fasting and releasing our own desires is certainly counter-cultural.  It certainly strikes a blow to our ego when we intentionally invite blank space into our existence.  We must face our fear that tells us once we completely release what we have, offering everything into the hands of the One who gave it in the first place, we might not ever get it back.

Ah, fear - that four letter word prevents many a devout person from entering into the depth of Relationship they so desperately long for.  I am far from alone in this struggle.  It is a cultural reality in this “self-made-millionaire” society.  Fear is everywhere, but it often wears a mask.  We all have our secret fears.  One of mine is the fear of becoming useless.

I desire to impact others for the better.  I desire to help.  I desire to do.  I desire to become someone of significance.  I do not want to be forgotten or cast aside.  I do not want my mind to cease remembering or my body to cease functioning.  I do not wish for my voice to be taken or for my comprehension to become muddled.  And I recognize that each of these statements, even those with seemingly beneficial intent, there is a propensity towards fear.

As I consider all that I have written thus far today, I return to the prayer.  Are the words of John Wesley more than I can pray tonight?  And yet, the closer I draw to the One I call "Beloved," the more intensely I hear the invitation to pray this way echoing in my soul.

Maybe I long to pray this gripping prayer because I long to trust.  I want to trust.  I want to believe that, should any of these things ever happen to me, I would not truly be cast off or ignored or rejected or forgotten.  Do I struggle to trust God, or do I struggle with the trust of God's people?  Although the two are often linked, they are not at all the same.

Beloved,  

I want to trust that my worth is not inherently wrapped up in what I do.  I want to trust that I will continue to be loved and valued even when I can no longer contribute to society in the ways I am used to.  I deeply desire to see Light and Love flowing so freely through your peoples that no one would be afraid to pray these words.

You know my fears.  You know my longings.  You know how deeply I desire to connect with You.  Every day I yearn for more of You, and every day I wish to offer You more of myself. Perhaps one day I will be completely willing and able to pray Wesley's prayer.  For now, I trust that You meet me where I am, and somehow I feel that my desire to pray is as pleasing to You as the actual prayer itself.  I am grateful for your Love and I long to bring You joy.

In the Midst of the Wailing in Ramah

Today, at the church we are attending, the annual children's pageant took the place of the sermon.  I'm sure it's been planned for months to have the children lead the Sunday where we light a candle for Joy, but the timing, in light of the recent tragedies both here in Portland and in Connecticut, was uncanny.  The children were the only ones who could bring joy to the service today...

I will confess that the children's voices were not all perfectly on pitch.  Some of the angels lost their halos or had their wings turned sideways or upside down.  One of the kings nearly lost their treasure as they fumbled with the long robes on the steps.  And yet, it was all perfect.

As the young child playing Mary cradled the Jesus doll in her arms, and the older child playing Joseph helped her lay the doll in the manger, my mind was taken back to the story of old. While shepherds and astrologers and angels rubbed elbows and tried to stay balanced near the altar, an older elementary child held up a gigantic star high for the congregation to see.  And I was very moved.

Photo taken at Murrayhills Christian Church
16 December 2012

Tears stung my eyes as the children sang "Joy to the World" as only they can.  And then their time in the front was done.  They took their seats to the sound of a collective deep breath.  We had all been moved, for the Spirit of God was present.

A recent seminary graduate proclaimed the Lord's presence and invited us to the Great Table where all are welcome.  We shared a lengthy time of silence, and I wondered how many people were thinking about the time of Jesus' birth and the darker side of the wise men narrative...

Sitting on the Shore: Preparing for Retreat Time

"Sitting in the Sand" - Photo by Trista Wynne

This weekend I will be heading to the beach for a personal retreat: just me, the waves, a little cottage and my God.  The labels give you an idea of what the last few months have been like as I've donned the cap and gown of seminary studies, (wrapping up the final quarter this summer -- halfway through today) pondered the last ten years, (I've been married for a decade now) thought about whether or not to move back near or into our childhood town, been wrestling with a change of direction in my calling, figuring out how best to support aging parents, and pondering a whole host of other topics.  Wondering what is in store for, I simply record a little prayer before returning to my packing.  I wonder what this weekend will reveal...


Beloved,

It's been a little while since I've felt your presence in a palpable way.  I see glimpses of You in the faces and actions of the dear ones at my internship site, and Your love and grace are evident in this place.  And yet, it seems that You and I have been separated for a time.

Questions and chaos about the present and future seem to swirl around me.  Have I gone into hiding on account of the storm?  Are You in the midst of it?  Have You  been listening?  Have I been talking to You?  Have I been listening?

The winds and debris are swirling so wildly.  Questions of "helpful" people wanting me to land on a direction pummel me like tsunami waves.  I have enough doubts to make Your Thomas look like one who never questioned.

What Does it Mean to Trust You?

Beloved,

One of my dear friends recently shared how difficult it is to trust You, especially in times of transition.  This one does believe that things will work out and has experienced your faithfulness and provision on several occasions and yet still finds it difficult to trust.  This friend is not alone.  Countless others have conversed with me about the difficulty they have trusting You.  For many, it's easier to not believe that You exist at all than it is to examine what it means when we use the phrase, "God is good".

Like my friend and countless others, I, too, have difficulty trusting You.  It is hard to admit that at the end of my seminary studies I may be no closer to comprehension or faith or trust than I was at the beginning.

Something, however, has shifted.  This time of study, of fellowship, of exploration of Your Community -- it has shifted my perspective.  As of yet, I cannot articulate how.

Searching for You outside the Church Walls

Ah, Lord,

You know my heart!  I just want to find a community that lives out Your love and proclaims freedom and peace.  After the church visit that I have recently had, my heart is saddened, but still, I continue to search for you.  Surely it shouldn't be this hard to find unharnessed love!

Why should I have to look any farther than the church that claims to be following You, Lord Jesus?  Why must I look beyond the people who claim to know You in order to find justice, peace and steadfast love?  I just don't understand.  I wish I could take people at their word, and that the one who claims to be a Christian would walk in Your way: loving You with their whole being, and loving their neighbors (with a wide definition!) as much as they love themselves.

Growing in the Light

Hello, Beloved.

My heart is much more at peace this evening than it was just a couple of days ago.  You have granted a good sliver of sunshine both days, and I was able to get out and walk without a sweatshirt for three days in a row, at least for a while.  I look forward to having several days in a row where I won't even think about putting on a sweatshirt or sweater.  Perhaps those days are not so very far away.

Church: Branches, Zombies, Fire & Life

Beloved,

My allegiance is to You above all.  I trust that You are in Your Church, no matter how divided it may seem.  I wish, Lord, that denominational (and non-denominational) branches would not exclude one another, but would have more interaction.  Each individual congregation strives for their own vision, their own purpose, and their own future.  Do they not realize that we are all one in You?

"Thirsty Tree" - Photo by Trista Wynne

This pointless striving against one another, whether overtly or in undercurrents, has sadly been our legacy from the beginning.

Battling the Beloved: How my Heart is won back when I Turn Away

Hello Beloved,

Much is on my mind, not for worries, but mostly for contemplation. At the forefront, though, is the sermon preached by our dear friend and pastor in Beaverton, where we found ourselves beginning Spring Break this weekend. The sermon on trust, the songs about being clay in Your hands, and their combined calling to release ourselves into Your arms for Your purposes – these are the images on my mind this evening.

Towards the beginning of the service, when the song entitled “The Potter’s Hand” was being sung, I found myself unable to join in the singing. This was odd since it is a favorite song of mine, but my spirit was heavy and I was grieved over the lack of connections and deep friendships in our lives since we followed Your call to move up here to the Seattle area. I didn’t feel particularly willing to become just anything or anyone at that moment in time. You know, Beloved, how I sometimes battle with You in spirit. Thankfully, Your Spirit is kind and compassionate, and gently worked throughout the rest of the service to remind me how much I am valued and loved even by that dear community which is several hours away from us.

"Softness of the Beloved" - Photo by Trista Wynne

The prayers of the people, the sermon, the strong embrace of our dearly loved minister of music, and lengthy hugs from the children (now teenagers) whom I used to nanny for – these all worked together to soften my heart. By the time we were invited to Your table, I was able to let go of the false pretense of control over my life. I simply acknowledge that in this part of the journey, my life and the life of my husband are truly in Your hands. I want to trust You; Lord, please help my lack of trust.

The Family Crest: A Reflection on Ash Wednesday

What if our crosses were always visible? No, I’m not talking about the gold-plated ones we chain around our necks after shelling out a bunch of cash! I’m talking about the ones on our foreheads, the ones that the minister signs us with when we are baptized. What if every day was Ash Wednesday and everybody could see the mark of Christ on us all the time? How would that change us? How would our relationships change? How would the perceptions that others have of us be impacted?

"The Family Crest" - Photo by Trista Wynne

Lord, I wonder about Your people – those who go by Your name in this area tend to blend in. We don’t let Your mark be shown except on merchandise. We buy crafts and jewelry and t-shirts and mugs with Your Family Crest, but we neglect the deeper call to reflect the Family Name through our actions and lifestyle.

It seems that we are about as loyal to You as to any brand name or sports team. We can become as defensive regarding creed and liturgy as devoted sports fans or apple users are when their team or product is challenged. And yet, sadly, that defense is about as deep as the devotion goes.

How ecstatic sports fans get if they come face to face with the players they obsess over! Will the same be true of Your peoples? Is it true today?

If we truly are followers of Your Way, Beloved, and we believe Your Word, then we will see Your reflection in every person, animal and plant throughout the world. And if that is true then we encounter You every day. Can we say that we are devoted to You and yet neglect or reject our fellow human beings, our fellow animals, or the rest of creation? How utterly absurd!

So, Beloved, what would life be like if Your Family Crest was visible on our foreheads? At the very least we would be known as ambassadors in Your world, for good or for ill. But, if we instead are in deep enough relationship with You to take devotion beyond the superficial, then we will allow our lives to be molded into the perfect reflection of Your love, and that is how Your Family crest – the cross – would become visible in the world.

Ah, Beloved, let it be so! May our Family be known for the thoughts, words and actions which reflect Your great love for the entire creation: people, animals, earth and plants alike. Mold and shape us into Your image once again. May all things be found dripping Your glory and bearing Your Family Crest, through the Holy Spirit, in Jesus’ name, amen.

On Earthly Transitions: Ponderings about the Pursuit of the New World

Good evening, Beloved!

I wonder what You are observing this evening. What things are in the hearts of people across the globe as they pursue their rights and equality? Are they encouraged or frustrated by the process? Why aren’t the governments willing to relinquish their power? Are we willing? Will their freedom mean the end of our status as “top dog”? Will that be a bad thing?

"Earthly Transitions" -  Photo by Matt Wynne

Although I do not specifically wish for it, and will grieve that day, I know that history shows us that our time has just about come to a close as an empire. I wonder what the new world, (post US empire) will look like. What languages will we speak? Who will assume authority? Will we have any humility at all or will we fight to the bitter end?

Oh Beloved, I wonder many things, but mostly I wonder how You view these upcoming transitions and if You have any particular words or a message to be shared. I wonder if the church leaders will look to You or to themselves for truth, guidance, understanding and peace. What about the governmental leaders? What about Your peoples?

May we all turn toward You! May we incline our hearts, minds and spirits towards You! May we look to Jesus for wisdom, and to see and to follow Your Way of Love! May Your Spirit of Grace and Life be stirring up within our core as a part of Your world-wide Church! Amen.

Empty or Full? – A Lament and Prayer for Corporations, Countries and Church

Ah, Lord, as I consider the large entities and the individuals who are being hurt or overlooked by them, I wonder about the state of the world… Why does the “healthcare” industry build more and more edifices to glorify themselves while the community clinic struggles? Why does the mega-church continue to grow while the small church, which cares for the community, suffers? Why does the corporation grow and the family shop fail? Dear Lord, why is it so?

The large entities have nothing of lasting value! They are impersonal, greedy, self-serving gluttons feeding on unsuspecting prey. The victims don’t even run and hide from the heartless beasts awaiting their souls! They wait in lines impatiently hurrying to be devoured whole!

They are like animals without sense! Or worse, they are zombies devouring one another on account of the infection of the corporations they serve! Who will wake them from their stupor? Who will save the next generation from their clawing grasp? Who will speak for You and free these zombies from their infection? Who will come and heal the poisoned land and clean the polluted water? Who will bring equity and break the shackles of greed and power? Who will restore shalom throughout the earth? How long, O Lord, must we wait for our salvation? How long until all peoples can hear Your voice? Won’t You send a messenger again? Won’t You release Your Spirit of Truth to speak throughout the nations? Won’t You heed the cry of broken peoples, the wounded, the deprived, the poor, the senseless, the lost and the empty who think they are full?

The Egyptian tyrant has fallen; good! But who will take his place? Does the military have any more compassion than he? Will an elected official have integrity and pursue peace? Does our government provide any hope for the rest of the world desiring freedom? Do we know what we’re doing? What do You think as You watch this unfold? Will You intervene and bring a hopeful future to this people longing for light? Are Your seekers prepared to follow Your lead?

What about South Sudan, Lord? Are You working in their midst as this country prepares to be birthed? Will Your desire for peace and justice and love and equity be heard in this newest of countries? Are Your followers called to a particular action for them?

How, O Lord, are we to work for peace, justice, equity and love throughout the world when we don’t even have it at home? Our own country is found to be lacking when it comes to the simple task of providing everyone with food, clothing, shelter, security, medical care and psychological, emotional and spiritual support. Why, then, do we think that we can tell othe countries how they ought to act? Lord, who do we think we are?! We are not You!

Your Church (worldwide) however is called to act on Your behalf. Are we acting in ways that show the world what You desire? Can the world look at us and see You?  Or are we, like helpless plants, simply frozen in winter, longing for spring?

"Longing for Spring" - Photo by Trista Wynne

O Lord, I know that I am an imperfect being, but I do desire to be likened unto You. And many others in Your Church, who are also imperfect beings, are also desiring to be likened unto You. Dear Lord, although we cannot attain this perfection as individuals, I do believe that You are in the midst of granting it to the entire gathering. I pray, Lord, that through Your immense love and mercy, we might all learn how to reflect You, or rather, to become so transparent that You would easily be seen. In order for this to happen, Lord, I believe that we need to empty ourselves of the desire even to exist, because in this desire, we serve our own desires instead of Yours. Help us, Lord, as an entire community across time and space, to be willing to be emptied and to let You fill us with Yourself.

What would “church” look like if we really acted as though You were with us and not far removed from our midst?  For now, we, like the little rosehips above, are simply caught between seasons, half-frozen in the winter of waiting, but desperately longing for the warm spring-breath of Your Holy Spirit.  We wait with Jesus’ name on our lips, whispering prayers for Your grace.  Maranatha!  Come, Lord Jesus, and stir us to newness of life.

On the Travels & Journeys: Pondering the Path of the Year to Come

Hello, Beloved ~


I wonder what You might ask of my husband and I this year. Where will You lead us? Who might we encounter? To whom will we bring Your good news?

"Held in the Father's Love" - Photo by Trista Wynne

I wonder how our writing will be incorporated and how our passions will shine. What might you want to do through my love for children or my husband’s musical skills? How might my joy of baking and his desire for photography come into play? To whom will You send us? For whom shall we prepare?

What colors shall I incorporate into this next painting? And how shall I continue with my schooling endeavors? What might stir up within me through my studies, my painting, my writing and my work?

How would You, O Spirit, like to move within our lives today? How about tomorrow? What about the rest of this year?

What new discoveries might be in store? How will You cultivate our talents? What would You like to give to us to grow and nurture? What shall we give back to You for reshaping? What might need destruction?

How would You like to flow through us to other people? What would you like to teach us through them? What might we discover together?

How would You like us to use our money? How shall we use our time? What would most benefit Your kingdom? Who might we work to set free?

As we prepare, Lord, to enter into the tenth year since our wedding, I wonder what this year might hold. I have more questions than answers, and the future seems far away. How might You desire to shape us, Lord? How shall we shine for You? What might You wish to say through our lives to the world?

I wonder, Beloved…

On the Presence of God in Community: A Prayer after Conversation

"Simple Offering" - Photo by Matthew Wynne

Thank You, Lord, for blessing others through my simple act of baking this afternoon. Thank You for honoring my work even when I felt lethargic this morning. Thank You for soft, sweet kitties and warm snuggles and friends to talk to. Thank You for quiet time this evening to be with You.

Thank You that I can honestly come to You in all of my emotions, with all of the concerns, frustrations, excitements, confusions, disappointments, fears, delights, sadness, joys, anxieties, tumults, loves, passions, laments and praises. Thank You for hearing our concerns for our families this evening. Thank You for acting even before we could know what You are up to in all of the situations we have seen, heard, discussed, lamented and rejoiced about in Your presence.

We leave these things in Your care, for You are fully capable of handling each one. We also desire to be active participants in Your Kingdom, Lord, so if You would like us to interact with one another or have a particular role in any of the concerns brought before You today, please help us to discern the next concrete steps to take. And if we are to simply wait and watch You work, please grant peace and encouragement. Let Your Sophia-Spirit flow like rivers, bringing justice, mercy and steadfast love in all things, and may we, like Jesus, pursue the things which make for peace and bring You glory.

Good night, Papa; let us sleep in Your peace. Amen.

More Ponderings for the New Year

As I prepare to enter a new term at Fuller Northwest, I am instructed to reflect on the life and times of Paul through a particular text book, and in the midst of my reading, I find myself pondering the time a few years earlier, when my Lord was present on the earth.  Looking ahead to Epiphany, holding the season of Christmastide in my heart, and thinking about my own life and times, I lay my questions in the lap of my Papa-God.

Jesus, my Love, as I read about the Mediterranean world, I wonder where you found Yourself socially. Did You know what it was like to go hungry for more than a few hours while You grew up? When did Joseph die or fall out of the picture? He was a craftsman, and artist, a carpenter. Did this mean You were above the servant class and never had to worry about Your meals? Or did Your family struggle to make ends meet?  Did You watch the sparrows because Your stomach was empty or were you able to study because You didn’t have to beg for Your food?


Where did Your solidarity with the poor come from? What fueled Your compassion? Did You carry it with You from the Throne of Grace or was it fostered through experience and observation of the world around You?

Am I anything like You, Beloved? Can others see You by looking at my life? When You grew to be a man, did you intentionally choose a life of simplicity in the nomadic style? Or was it fairly common in Your time? Were people drawn to You because they could see some reflection of themselves in You, or You in themselves? How did You foster hope in those who followed You? How can I do the same? How can I become more like You?

Can I be in solidarity with the poor and still own property? If I’m called to serve the poor, is it right for me to be comfortable and well-fed? If I’m called to the “untouchables”, do I need to become an outcast myself?

Beloved, how can I become more like You?

Pondering the Light: Beginning the New Year in Question

Photo by Trista Wynne

It seems fitting to me to begin the new year with questions rather than with statements.  Not only do I not know what the future holds, but I have many questions about the past.  The more assertions I come across in my studies, the more I pause for reflection and pondering.  So, as the year of 2010 comes to an end, I begin my new journal with ponderings for my Lord.  I post some of them here in hopes that you also will approach the throne of grace with the confidence of knowing that no matter how deep your questionin might be, you will always be loved and accepted as a child of the Most High.

The ponderings below came in response to a song by a couple of my dear friends reflecting on Matthew 2:1-18, and a meditation by one of my professors on the same passage.  Thank you, dear sisters and brother in Christ, for sharing your song and meditations .  Here are my own ponderings as I speak to my Beloved, the Light of the world:

Light of the world, did you know the darkness You were coming into? Were You, as an infant, cognizant of the stench of death? While the blood of the innocents was shed around You, Mary comforted You with her breast, and Your presence comforted her, too. Like Moses, You entered the world in safety, but many did not see their second birthday while You were hidden away.

Did this weigh on You? When You were a child growing up in Nazareth, were You the only one Your age? Did you see the tears shining in Your father’s eyes at the Passover meal when he recited the way that Moses received his name and his people receive their freedom? Did the people speak in hushed tones as You played with the other children? Did you wonder what your life was preserved for? Did the blood of the innocents cry out to you from the ground as it did with Cain and Able? Was Your compassion deepened on account of this lamentation? Were you aware of their spirits crying out for justice?

When You grew to be a man, and accepted Your anointing, had You wrestled with Your past as well as Your future? Were You up late at night pondering the anguish of the world? Did You wake in the morning to the salty taste of tears on Your pillow? Were you always grieved by the pain of those around You?

I, too, hear the lament. Rachel cries out from every corner of the earth! Even the earth itself is grieved in spirit. How long, O Lord?! How long until every tear is wiped away? How long until everyone acknowledges, through actions of love and peace and justice, that You are Lord above all of creation? How long until Your world is consoled?

Fruit & Wine: The Joy and Challenge of Vineyard Life

"Waiting for Wine" - photo by Bernice & Trista

Having just returned from the Chateau St Michelle winery in Woodinville, I find myself reflecting on a note from the tour. Our guide talked about the reasoning for planting the vineyards in the semi-arid desert land of Eastern Washington and the benefits of the struggling grape vine. Vineyards that are planted close to the water are subject to a wide variety of conditions because of the maritime weather patterns, while those on the East side of the Cascades experience rather predictable weather year after year, particularly during the growing season. The combination of hot days and cool nights are most beneficial to produce a grape with a balance between acidity and sweetness. Too much heat leads to a soft, overly sweet grape, while too little heat lets the acid take over the flavor.

This makes me think about the content of life, how we are often placed in climates or situations that may at first seem entirely undesirable for what we want to accomplish. I imagine that the vines might complain as they struggle to produce their fruit. But in the midst of this, they have to put all their energy into producing good fruit for their vine growers. Sometimes it seems that this is the way of life; I can definitely relate to the plight of the vineyard.

I have found myself questioning at several points along the path why the Master Gardener placed me in certain situations or had me experience seasons of dryness and struggle. When it feels like I am not as well-decorated as my fellow vines or that their fruit is much larger and beautiful than my own, or when my mind is focused on my own growth and I’m simply dissatisfied with what I perceive as progress, I would do well to remember the vineyards of the Chateau. There, the vine tenders do not necessarily take the largest of grapes, nor do they look for the most decorated vines, instead they look for the specific fruit that will make the very best wine in the style they most desire at the time. Sometimes they let the vineyard sit without water for a certain amount of time in order to force the vines to root down deep, and at other times they’ll water freely.

So for us, we who are the branches on the Master’s vine, it means that our task is very simply to work on our root system, to find ways to tap into the Source of Living Water, whether that means prayer, fasting, observing worship practices that nurture us, doing works of justice in the world, absorbing Scripture, seeking Truth wherever it may be found, or leading a contemplative lifestyle. Different varieties of grapes need different growing conditions; we cannot say that because one is planted here that it is better or if they are planted there that it is worse. We do not know how the Master Gardener may use a different style vine than our own; we can only focus on growing our own fruit.

At the same time though, perhaps paradoxically, we who are called to tend the vine, even while being a part of the vine ourselves, must be aware of the conditions of the vineyard we are called to tend. If we, in our own community, have discerned that the fruit which our local vines are producing is not of top quality, or is not present at all, and we do not alter the conditions of the vineyard entrusted to us, it is we, not the fruitless vines, who will be held accountable. We have a responsibility to provide access to the Living Water in a variety of ways, and to help those who are seeking to find a place where they will find others who have similar root systems as their own, even if it is not within our vineyard.

Dear friends, do you see what I see? How boring it would be for us to enter a store and only have one kind of wine available! How much damage has been done to people that, if only they had been granted different growing conditions, or a different style of faith community, would have produced precious, delightful fruit for the Kingdom, but instead opted to jump out of the vineyard life altogether! Such is the risk we take when we have a single-mindedness about us in our teachings. When we say to a Riesling grape, “you should be Syrah,” or to a Chardonnay, “you should be a Merlot,” we are denying the Great Banquet Hall of heaven a variety of precious wines to celebrate with!  (See 1 Cor. 12.)

As for me, when I enjoy the heavenly banquet with my Lord, I look forward to a wide variety of fruit, lots of people with different ideologies gathered around the table, and an endless supply of delectable wines, that I, both as a vine and as one who tends the vineyard, aided in producing during my time on the earth. May I never loose sight of the fact that I am simply part of the vine, even when I am called to tend a vineyard here, amen!

The Infant’s Grasp: An Instinctual Response to the Eucharist

Photo by my friend, Grete Norquist

I had the privilege of holding an infant during the first portion of worship this evening. As we were singing and preparing our hearts to receive Communion, she slept soundly in my arms. In the passing of the peace she stirred and opened her beautiful eyes, seeming to greet each one as they gently touched her and shared the peace with us both. And then, after the words of institution were spoken, the wine poured and the bread broken, she began to stretch out her hand toward the table. The communion stewards came around sharing the elements with us all and her little hand reached toward the bread and the wine; she was instinctually reaching out for the representation of our Lord. Moments later she made signs of hunger and I passed her back to her mother so she could nurse. She was hungry so she simply asked for what she needed, and her desires were answered. This, indeed, is why we gather at the table of the Great Thanksgiving!


This makes me think about a sermon given this morning by Rev. Tom Steffen. He described the author of the 119th Psalm as having the markings of a lover, a connoisseur of the Divine Splendor we refer to as God; not a lover, connoisseur, or devotee first and foremost of the law itself…but a lover, a devotee who loves the [One to whom] the law points. Later he said that the psalmist was also a dancer, one whose study of the law exposed him to pure grace.

In these two statements and in the grasp of the infant at the Communion table, I find my soul’s longing and understand the reason for the darkness that has been gripping my spirit of late. Despite the joy I feel when I am at the altar, burning incense, lifting my prayers on the wings of music, (be it my own or someone else’s) or when I am internalizing Scripture like cakes of sweet honey, I find that when I depart to enter the other parts of life, my spirit is constantly longing for that place of surrender, of honesty, of fulfillment and wholeness. Nothing in this life is quite as satisfying to me as sitting at the feet of my Lord.

It is difficult to focus on the rigorous activity of studying when my heart is pulled elsewhere. I find it hard to be fully present in conversation or work or lecture when my spirit wants to be listening for my Master’s voice. My entire being aches with longing for my Beloved; I simply cannot get enough. The demands and rewards of the world seem superficial in comparison to the Deep Reality that I know when I am fully in the Lord’s presence. No wonder melancholy colors the edges of my life!

I want to sing and dance and run and skip and worship with the freedom of the little child I nanny! Oh how I long to jump into the arms of my Beloved and to be lifted high into the air, spun around and then held close so I can hear that precious heartbeat once more!

Ah, Beloved, Your creation yearns for Your presence! We are all sick with love and mourning, waiting for You to return! How hard it is to continue on when You seem so far away! How long, O Lord? Don’t you see how desperate we are for Your healing touch? Have You forgotten Your precious lovers here on the earth? It has been so long since the compassion of Your Holy Spirit was shown in powerful manifestations – this generation has nearly abandoned Your Way forgetting that You are Love. Even I cannot say that I am without doubt at times. And yet my own life is filled with time after time where Your grace and compassion and love were shown by others, and so I know that You Are… Oh my Love! Your Spirit-song is in the edges of my heart; grant me the courage to sing and to reach out for You – both looking to grasp Your hand and seeking to grasp others for Your name’s sake.


Here I am, Lord, stretching my hands to grasp You! I long to know You more, first and foremost as my Beloved, and then with my mind, and then to show what I know of You through my hands and my words. Draw near to me, Beloved, let me feel Your presence. Breathe Your Spirit deeply into my inner being and let me dance with You, in Jesus’ name, amen.

Putting the Pieces Together: A Refelction on Exegetical Method and Life



"Piecing together the Puzzle" - Photo by Trista Wynne

 This morning I find myself pondering the joys (and pains) of exegesis, that is, the searching of Scripture in its original language in an attempt to discern the intent or meaning of the original author. In many ways, it is as though we have been given a puzzle in a box without the lid that would have the full picture on it. We, however, are not completely lost, for those who have received this same box of pieces we now find before us have passed down their representations of how they have fit the pieces together in their lifetimes. The problem there lies in perhaps choosing one representation over another simply because we were taught to do so as children (or perhaps later, if we came to faith later on in life). If we want to simply take someone else’s word for it and stay with one vision of what the puzzle looks like in the end, we might just end up forcing pieces to fit where they weren’t intended by the One who designed, painted, cut and passed out the pieces in the first place.


Recently my husband and I endeavored to piece a puzzle of a thousand pieces together. We had purchased it on our honeymoon in San Francisco a year after we were married. The puzzle portrayed a three-hundred-sixty-five degree view of the inside of Alcatraz. Now, even though we had the box in front of us, it was an incredibly daunting task. There are a lot of bars of similar shade to be found in that picture. Not only that, but the pieces were cut in very similar shapes so that pieces would fit together whose pattern did not match each other at all. After only a few hours on the first day I stood up and walked away from the table deciding that I was done. I glared at it from across the living room and then leaned back on the couch, closed my eyes and promptly fell asleep; my husband continued to labor for another hour over the tedious work.

Now, we had accomplished a good deal right at the start. We noticed patterns and sorted the pieces into piles of like coloring, placing the yellowish ones here, the grayish ones there and the dark brown ones in another pile, and gathering the straight edges into one area. My first task was to fit the frame together. My husband focused on a section in the middle. When I had come to the end of all of the straight-edged pieces, some appeared to be missing. That couldn’t be; we had just opened the box! Searching high and low to find the presumably missing pieces, I scoured the piles until my eyes hurt and then some. That was when I had given up that evening. At the end of the night, we covered the work area with a couple of large flattened boxes to protect our work from the paws of our kitties.

A few weeks went by before we sat down to work on the puzzle again. With renewed vigor we plunged into our work, this time having a larger portion of visual satisfaction in the tangible results of our labors. We pieced small portions of the picture together on opposite ends of the table and then slid them together and found where they interlocked with the frame I had worked so hard on the first night. I would send a dark piece his way and he a light piece in my direction. This goes there, or that goes here, and the pieces would stay just long enough to be fit together with another and then sent to the other end of the table once again.

At one point into the third full day of working on our puzzle, my husband wondered about a couple of pieces on the sides. He pulled one from the left and one from the right side and placed them in the space where the supposedly missing pieces should be. He was right. They fit perfectly and still matched the pattern of light and shadow. The frame was now complete; I had simply placed a couple of pieces in the wrong place and assumed it was right because they fit. I was much encouraged by his discovery, and found that I had a renewed energy to continue on our endeavor together. On the third day the work was finished.

Exegesis is a bit like that puzzle work. We organize the pieces (stories, or fragments of stories called pericopes) into piles, sorting them by genre, attributing them to certain authors, observing themes and pondering the big pictures we each have received through our various traditions. This, like the gigantic puzzle which my husband and I worked on, is not a task to be done alone. It is created in such a way that the whole community of God needs to be involved. Sometimes we need someone else to ask what might happen if we rotate this piece, or to tap us on the shoulder and suggest that that piece might be better placed on the other end of the puzzle.

We are greatly blessed to have at our fingertips, or only a short drive away, access to material from some of the most thoughtful, soulful people throughout the history of our faith. I am a student working on the puzzle of interpreting the Scriptures for the community of God, practicing my work so that in time to come I will give others the tools they need to join me in this delicate, delightful, fulfilling work that has been set before us by the Great Artisan – our Lord, Creator of the world through the Holy Spirit in Jesus Christ, one God throughout all time.

I am not alone. My work is in community. We support one another and bring to the table our own understandings based on the work of those who have gone before us and have left us pictures, poetry, songs and sermons giving us their unique perspectives regarding the work that we now have in our hands. I was raised in the tradition of Martin Luther, and I am grateful for such a deep structure of grace-filled roots. I also am delighted to be at the table with others who share their traditions drawing their inspiration from the herritage of people like John Wesley, John Calvin, and William Seymour. Together we tap into the deep, rich wells of the desert mothers and fathers like Anthony and Amma Syncletica, the sixteenth century mystics like Julian of Norwich and John of the Cross, the Eastern Orthodox saints like Catherine of Sienna and Basil the Great, the heritage of the Roman Catholic spiritualists like Henri Nouwen and Thomas Merton and the charismatic lineage of Francis of Assisi and Aimee Semple McPherson.

Life is also a bit like this. Not one of us is alone. We were not born into or raised in a social vacuum. Each of us has the blessing of the interactions that have shaped us from before we were born. And I do mean blessing, for even the most difficult circumstances, when shared within a loving, prayerful, discerning community, can become the seedbed for the re-shaping of the families, neighborhoods and government entities around us for the benefit of the world. We each have been given a unique piece, something to add to, the puzzle of life. Through prayer, community interaction, introspection, reading of Scripture and involvement with the people and world around us, we can find our place in the multi-dimensional puzzle of life to the delight of our Great Love.

Here is what I hear the Lord speaking to me, and through me, today:

Beloved, do not be discouraged if you have been told to put your piece here or there, only to find that you are later picked up and placed in a completely new arena. Most of your inner-turmoil arises when you misinterpret My direction as a message to glue your piece down on the table rather than for the message of temporary placement that it was originally intended to be. Throughout your entire life here on the earth, you are in temporary placement. Only in the completion of My plan will you truly understand your placement.


Dear beloved, trust Me. Listen for My voice. I speak through the Scriptures. I speak through those who truly love you. I speak through My creation. I speak through your intuition. I speak logically. I speak creatively. I speak in parables, poetry, song and dance. I speak through your body. I speak to others through you. Listen to Me. Act as I did in Christ. Follow my lead in the dance of life. Only then, when you have learned what it means to be My companion, will I call you to speak.


Come, beloved, draw near to Me, and I will show you what I created you to be.

Transitional Objects: Sacred Union & Longing in the Grief of Life

"Sacred Union" - photo by Trista Wynne

In All our Losses, All our Griefs: Resources for Pastoral Care, Kenneth Mitchell and Herbert Anderson discuss the benefit of transitional objects in easing the pain of separation and loss. We are often given a blanket, teddy or other stuffed animal to help us transition when we are children being weaned from our mother’s presence. Just as these transitional objects bring us comfort as children, so also are comforting objects incredibly helpful in times of grief.


I remember that when I was a young girl I had a large stuffed panda bear that remained near my bed at all times. When I felt afraid, such as when I had a bad dream, I would curl up in the soft embrace of my large panda bear; I often also brought my quilted blanket and when I was all wrapped up, a sense of security infused my being. It was a soft, warm place where I could cry or pray or look at a book, and I always was able to get back to sleep or face the rest of the day after having quiet time with my panda.

When I was preparing to go away to college and leave my childhood home, at first I thought I wouldn’t want anything from my earlier years, but when I found that my dad had brought one of my favorite stuffed animals named Kerby along for the car ride, I was quick to place it on my shelf. Truth be known, it ended up being snuggled with for the first several months that I was away from home. Gradually Kerby spent more time on the shelf than next to me, but his presence proved valuable for helping me get to sleep in a strange new place where no one and nothing was familiar.

Several years later I received a large stuffed bear for Christmas from my mother in law. It was a joyful addition to the random collection of stuffed animals that my husband and I had acquired for and from one another during our years of courtship. This large, soft bear ended up serving the role of transitional object when I could no longer hold the child I once had nannied. When I had fretful dreams where the child was out of my grasp, or where I was being pulled away from the child, I held the bear and was usually able to get back to sleep. If I came home from work and my husband was still on the clock, the bear helped the tears to flow freely. Over several weeks and even a few months, the bear served as an object of comfort and connection to the one I could no longer hold. Gradually my dependence upon this bear to sleep lessened and the nightmares dissipated. After several months, I found myself only reaching for the bear occasionally, and later, usually in moments of joy when I was remembering the child. As I gave the bear a hug, I would pray that my Lord Jesus would wrap that child in His strong arms and let that child know how much they were loved and missed from this side of eternity.

A couple of years prior to that, when I had miscarried, my mom crocheted me a prayer shawl. She made it with several strands of yarn together so that it was very soft and very warm, and I knew that she had prayed for my healing, safety and blessing with every stitch. She and I had both crocheted several prayer shawls for others, so I knew the intensity of the love that went into this blanket. Whenever I felt lonely, depressed or discouraged, I found that wrapping up in this shawl lifted my spirits and gave me comfort.

The sensation of grief leaves one feeling very cold and the brokenness on the inside of the heart feels jagged, so a blanket helps to bring warmth and softness and renews the spirit. Soft, soothing objects like teddy bears or clothing that was once worn by our loved ones provide a tangible connection to the one for whom we long, and they ease the burden of sorrow, even if only for a few moments. The respite from our grief allows us to breathe more deeply and clears our minds of the chaos that tumbles around inside.

Our Lord Jesus knew the burden of grief and separation. He wept openly when His family friend, Lazarus had died, and was deeply moved in compassion for his close friends when He knew that He was about to be betrayed and sentenced to death through a flawed justice system. Even though both of these deaths led to resurrection, Jesus knew that there was great pain in separation from our loved ones. I believe this is why we have the Lord’s Supper.

After a sacred final meal with His close friends and their families, He took bread, broke it, gave thanks and gave it for all to eat, telling them to remember His body every time they felt, cut, tasted and internalized bread together. And He shared His cup of wine, looking forward to the coming days when, as the prophets of old said, the mountains will drip with sweet wine, and the land all around us will be abundantly fruitful with justice, mercy and steadfast love and faithfulness. Whether or not we fully comprehend the meaning of this final meal, and whether we share it often or only on rare occasions, this meal gives us communion with our Lord, with each other, and with all peoples who at any time in any place have called on the name of Jesus.

This simple meal of bread and wine is for us a transitional object, serving as a connection point where the sacred and mundane all come together, where we all receive comfort, sustenance and preparation to continue along the journey of faith, proclaiming the Lord’s life, death and resurrection until the day comes when every tear will be wiped away and there will be no more pain, no more suffering, no more separation or sting of death, and all things shall be made new. The bread is soft and comforting, and the wine spreads warmth through our bellies. Our Lord meets us in this meal and the grief of this life is lifted, even as we wait the completion of the promise for renewal, peace and abundant life in eternity.

We await Your coming kingdom, Lord Jesus, and we are thankful for Your gifts of this sacred meal and of Your Holy Comforting Spirit who encourages us until we all can physically touch Your face and hear You call us each by name. While we are in this time of transition, where the human spirit, the creatures and the entire earth cry out with grief, help those of us who know the gifts found at Your table to share Your ways of peace, justice, mercy and steadfast love through our way of life and in our thoughts and words towards one another to the delight of our Father in Heaven. May we be strengthened and renewed in order that we might minister to Your world in this time of need, amen.

Good Grief: A Response to Westberg's Classic

Having just read through Westberg’s classic booklet entitled Good Grief for class, I wanted to briefly capture the moment and record where I am this evening. It is October, the month of birth for a child I nannied who died several years ago. When I was caring for him and another beautiful boy about the same age, I was in the final stages of recovery from the loss of my own children through miscarriage, and found time with them extremely healing. So, when the one child died, I felt the grief both of being his caregiver and the mother I would have been if my own children survived pregnancy. Only a few short months later, I received my long-awaited Associate’s degree and my husband and I moved out of state so I could attend a four-year college. This was our first time away from our childhood town, church and family, and so we grieved this transition, even though it was for a good purpose.


This was a complicated and difficult road of grief, one on which I, and my husband had, very few confidants in our new place; it was a road which threatened to tear my husband and I apart, since neither of us had experienced anything like it before. Gradually, though, we learned how to discuss our feelings, our fears and our furies, and to work through our respective grief together, and began to build relationships in our new community.

It took me several years before I could accept a nanny position with an infant again. I had several other jobs, including a few nanny positions, that I took in the time between, some fulfilling, others less-so, but all filled with healing, self-awareness, growth and opportunities to care for others. Now I care for a child who is almost two-and-a-half, and I have been his nanny from his ninth month of age. I am filled with joy whenever I am with this child, and sense the Spirit of God blessing our time together.

I remember that for a time after we first moved here, it seemed that nothing could have chiseled away at the dark night of my soul. Now, though, those days are a distant memory. Tears do occasionally come to my eyes when I encounter a beautiful child about the age that my own kiddos would be now, or when I see an early-elementary aged boy with unkempt blonde hair sticking out every which way, reminding me of the baby I had nannied.  Tonight I can hear his sweet nick-name for me, see his face and hands covered in spaghetti sauce, and feel the warmth of his head resting in the crook of my arm as I would rock him to sleep with his teddy bear.  These memories are indeed very sweet, even though my eyes grow moist as I type them.

Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if my children were with me today. They would be about at the age of reading on their own and doing science experiments in the kitchen. I certainly do not know why they are not here, but I trust that God knows and trust that they know how much they are loved even though we have never met outside of the realm of deep meditation or the occasional dream.

I may not have the life I envisioned several years ago, and I still wait for the day to come when the sounds of tiny footsteps are heard in our living room late into the evening, but beyond these losses, my life has continued. I am stronger and willing to be more vulnerable than I ever was before, and I find that both qualities lend themselves beautifully to the work of counseling, teaching, and pastoral ministry. Because I have walked the valley of the shadow of death, I know the value of life and, more often than not, do not sweat the insignificant problems. Patience and quietude and peace have been more deeply embedded in my spirit as a result of my trials, and I do what I can to share these gifts with others who I encounter along life’s pathway. Deep in my heart, throughout my life, I have felt the touch of the Great Physician: Jesus, my Lord, and I look forward to continuing to share His healing grace with you here in this online space where together we can seek quiescence and serenity in the midst of a chaotic world.

I pray that in the deep wounds of your life, you also are able to feel the gentle, healing touch of our Savior, to be filled with the peace of the Holy Spirit and to receive the deep, abiding joy that flows forth from a life rooted in the faith in our loving and compassionate Creator who holds all things, even those things we don’t understand in strong and capable hands.