Ah, Tax Day!

Last night I found myself standing in the procrastinator's line at the post office.  The majority of the people who were mailing in their checks for the state department of revenue wrestled with the stamp printing machine, trying to figure out what kind of printed stamp to buy in order to receive the "postmark" of the 15th of April.  Three different people tried three different options, running up small bills on their credit cards before they figured out which option was the correct one.

As the line grew longer and began to snake around the lobby, one might have expected an attitude of grief or anxiety to pervade the atmosphere.  A funny thing happened, though.  Among the folks waiting in line as the seconds turned to minutes and quarter hours and so on, jokes about the drabness of color on the walls or the need for a clown or balloons began to bubble up.  No one was impatient with anyone else.  And when the discovery was made regarding which option was necessary to get the date printed on the stamp, great rejoicing erupted.  The person who made the discovery, (with the help of at least three other people looking at the screen with them) was so delighted that they had finally figured out the system, they stayed to help nearly half a dozen other people behind them so the process could move faster from there.

We discovered that you had to buy three stamps at a time, so those who had only one or two envelopes that needed the date-stamped postage shared with those who had been standing in line behind them.  Wishing one another a "happy tax day", we worked together to lift one another's moods and each person in the line helped the person or two behind them to navigate the silly machine.  I was struck by the presence of the joy and compassion in that small, whitewashed government office.  Christ is sometimes found in the most unlikely of places.  For me, on tax day, Christ was found in the little post office in my hometown.

Ah, Beloved,
You have a way of popping up unexpectedly.  Your Spirit of compassion is present in places we might not think to look for Her.  Surely you surprise us with your grace when we least expect it to come our way.  During this Holy Week, I pray that everyone might catch a reflection of You in our fellow human beings, in the love of our animals or in the glory of your creation.  May we all be captivated by your Spirit of grace and compassion, and may we strive to make Her presence felt more palpably everywhere we go, in Jesus' name, amen.

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.

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.

Tears, Fears & Pondering the big "D"

4 a.m. -- Woke up from a nightmare about my parents' death.  Tears are flowing freely...

My dream brings a number of questions to light. Like, who do you call, exactly, when your parents both have DNR wishes? Do you still call 9-1-1 and have them send the police and a coroner? Which pastor do I call? (Mine or theirs? Both?) What about their pets? Who do I call to take care of them? How do I manage the situation if I have the kiddos I nanny with me? (We all go visit them a couple times a week.) How do I contact my family members? How do you share something like that over the phone?

Who am I in this situation? Daughter? Chaplain? Will my family look to me for spiritual guidance? Will my pastoral presence matter to them? Will I be so overwhelmed with grief that I can be of no help to them? Will they resent me for that later?

I guess we all have to deal with questions like these sooner or later. Now is simply my time. I'm mentally preparing and processing in the dark of the night. Fear, I realize, has very little to do with the reality that they might pass from this life to the next at any point. The part of the dream that made it nightmarish was my anxiety about the "what next" or "what now" questions swirling about. I post because I figure that gaining some insight will help to calm those fears. Then I will feel more prepared when the time comes...

Extreme Humility

This post was composed last Wednesday as I reflected on the icon of extreme humility in St Thomas' chapel, but I wanted to include a photo when I shared it and didn't have my camera with me at the time.  So, now that I have the icon to show you, please ponder along with my prayer below.

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What do You Have in Your Hands?

The question posed by the pastor at Westminster Chapel this morning echoes through my heart.  What do we have in our hands, bodies, minds, spirits, talents and being that the Lord desires to use?  What are the limitations we impose upon ourselves?  God has gifted us with a vast array of talents and personality traits.  All of them can be used for God’s glory.  How do our perceived limitations get in the way?  Maybe we have much more to offer than we believe.  What would the Lord like to do in, with and through us?

"Working Hands" - Photo by Matthew Wynne

I wonder about these things as I prepare to lay my head against the pillow this evening.  Just a few short hours ago we found ourselves in the Fremont Abbey with the Church of the Apostles.  The speaker there reflected on Jesus’ assertions from the gospel of John. “I am the good shepherd.”  “I am the door.”  These images all give us clues as to what our Lord is like.

What then shall We say? You Alone Know, O Lord!

Beloved Jesus ~

No one in Your time, save for Mary of Bethany, seemed to understand the gravity of the time You found Yourself in during the last days of Your earthly life. How could they comprehend what they had never before seen? What could You use as an illustration of the events that were about to unfold? How could it possibly make sense, even to those who followed You so closely?

The work which our Father had given for You to accomplish was new and strange to them. The ministry You did and the love You gave was like nothing they had ever experienced, but was not without connection to the work of our Father throughout history. How could You describe what You were given to accomplish? The analogies simply fell short of the reality; and they still do today.

Ah Beloved, there is not one person who fully comprehends all that You accomplished through Your incarnation. Your birth, life, death and resurrection, although foretold in bits and pieces of vision through the prophets of old, still caught everyone by surprise when it all came to pass. No one quite understood what You were doing while they were in Your presence, but they all knew that something was different about You.

They were intrigued and excited, or perhaps a bit nervous and skeptical. But mostly the people around You were simply hungry for truth, love and freedom. They were feeling abandoned or neglected and trapped in oppressive circumstances. Most of all, they were lacking hope.

Likewise, we who are entering ministry today find ourselves surrounded by people in similar circumstances. The people we are called to work with, to tend to, and to feed, are Your peoples who have lost sight of Your direction or have not yet been introduced to Your freedom and love. We are called to search for those who are wandering far from the way that leads to life. We are called to bring light to a darkened world and hope to those who are filled with dread at the thoughts of the future. We are called to bring healing and a message of Your reconciliation to a world filled with war, violence and bloodshed. You have given us to be healing balm to a wounded, suffering world.



"Life in the Midst of Death" - Photo by Trista Wynne

 How then shall we speak to them, Beloved? What then shall we say? How will our pathways be like, and unlike, Yours? Oh Lord, You alone know!

As we prepare to enter our calling more deeply, may we be humble and willing to accept correction when the Spirit deems it necessary, and resilient enough to let unwarranted criticism roll of our backs. May we be soft enough to be approachable, and strong enough to stand firm when You call us to, O Lord. May Your Sophia-Spirit breathe wisdom into us so that we can respond gently and peaceably in all the times and spaces where such responses are needed. May all that we are, and all that we do, be for Your glory, Beloved; may the world come to know the Father who sent us in the first place, in Your name, amen.

Butterflies, Sunshine & Wide-Eyed Anticipation: Watching for New Life in Lent

Precious Beloved ~

Originally I had a fairly clear plan as to what I would do today, but I was willing to let go of my preconceived ideas of what the day would hold, and the entire day has been tremendously blessed. I trust that this is indicative of my lifelong journey as well, and at this time, of my worship life as we approach this new endeavor and unanticipated pathway. Your Holy Spirit blows where She will, and all I can do is be willing to watch for signs of Her action in the people, earth and creation around me, and to listen to my heart's response in order to find where I am called.

This is what journeying through Lent is all about -- releasing our ideas about what should happen and allowing You to work as You so desire. In Christ we see Your heart, O God! Through the promptings of Sophia-Spirit, all of our theological assertions and analogies simply fall to the ground like the palm branches of holy week; they are trampled so that the seeds of love might be pressed into the ground and a new creation can spring forth as we declare, "Hosanna".

Today, although I had distinct plans of where I would go and to whom I would speak, You, Beloved, had a different idea, and I am so very glad that You did. Through the unanticipated conversations, the blessed sunshine and the wild weather that followed, Your presence was truly palpable. What a lovely tryst it was!

As I grabbed my camera and sprung out into the delightfully sunny afternoon, I had the butterflies in my belly of a young lover who catches a glimpse of the one they long for more than life itself. I thought I might burst with joy and anticipation of the coming thing! Whatever was coming, I knew it was going to be tremendous. So I found the quickest way to enter the garden to capture the radiant reflections of Your glory which infuses each flower with beauty. I could hardly remain in my seat for the car ride, and virtually leapt forth onto the nature trails to soak in Your light.


"Joyful Illumination" - At the Botanical Garden - Photo by Trista Wynne


My mind feels like the earth which is in the midst of being pushed aside for new life to spring forth, and every fiber of my being vibrates with songs of delight. What is this new creation that I sense is coming? What sort of new life will spring forth within, through or around me? Like a child nearing their birthday, or a lover who has been asked to cover their eyes, I wonder, and I yearn, and I dance while I wait.

The storm clouds roll in and rain pours down but still I watch and I dance and I wait. Lightning flashes and thunder sounds, and yet I watch, I dance and I wait. Snow flurries swirl and darkness flows around, and still I watch, I dance and I wait. What is this new life about to spring forth? In Lent, I watch, I dance and I wait.

The Way of the Beloved: Journeying through Lent - 1st Sunday 2011

Tonight at Frankincense we read from Genesis, the story of the time when humanity chose a way that was different from the path You laid out. An alternate ending was presented from Rabbi Kushner, one in which there was no decision to turn away. There was simply Eden.

In his alternate ending, there was no extreme sorrow, but pleasure was also lacking. With every need met and no experience of pain or suffering, I wonder if we would ever have grown to love You. Would we have grown to love one another? Would we love ourselves?

What would this life look like if there was no sin or separation or hiding between us? Or are any of these things actually here now? Sin is supposedly the separation from You, but Beloved, is there a place in existence where You are not? The psalmist would contend, and the prophets agree, that such a place does not exist. So what then is sin? Julian says it is of no substance at all. If separation is the definition, then I think she is right, for wherever we travel, You, Beloved, are with us.

"Lenten Feet" - Photo by Trista Wynne

This brings me back to the Genesis passage. What really happened there? Where, if anywhere, did You go when the woman was speaking with the serpent? Were You hidden from sight? Why would You hide when their biggest decision ever was being made?

But this apparent absence is what Lent is about, then, isn’t it? We remember Jesus’ struggle and painful wandering out in the desert during a time of utmost importance in His earthly ministry. In that time were You hidden? The text is silent on the subject, saying neither that You were there, nor that you were absent beyond the physical presence of Christ. We get no clear indication that there was a separation of Your communal nature until the agonizing cry from the cross. But even there, was it separation or perception? Are we simply blinded to Your presence at times? How is it that we can feel so far away from You even when we are found in Your very womb, Dear Mother?

These things are too wonderful for me, Beloved! Still, on account of our intimacy, I am free to ask the questions that burn in my heart this night. What happened in Eden? What happened in the desert? What happened at the cross? What is this road about which we are walking along together? Where might it lead, and is the end really the beginning? How can we be coming back to You, as some theologians might say, if You have never really left us in the first place? Surely You are not far from us, Beloved! Surely we are always near to Your heart, O God!

Perhaps more questions will arise, Dear One, as we continue this Lenten journey together. For now, however, I’m glad to have the freedom to bring my questions to You as I prepare to slumber. I pray that I might be tucked into the fold of Your garment and that I might come closer to hearing and echoing Your heartbeat, Beloved. Oh let us be one as I enter my sleep, amen.

The Divine Feminine

In a way unlike any time prior, I am finding myself noticing the imagery of the feminine in Scripture in intimate detail.  The nourishing actions of a breast-feeding mother, the gentle flutter of a mother hen's wing, the protective shelter of the muscular womb, the intimate passions of the feminine belly -- all of these womanly wonders are attributed to You and to Your prophets across the span of time and space.  How intricately woven is the female body!  How intimately connected to You!

"Tender Strength" - Photo by Trista Wynne

Precious Spirit, You are in the midst of enriching my reading of Your Word and deepening my love for You at every juncture.  The tender caress of the flowers in bloom remind me of Your Feminine Presence.  I am delicate and strong, just like You.  Oh Sophia, Precious Mother, Passionate Lover and Companion of all, thank You.  I am deeply grateful for Your presence, and I await Your timing in the blossoming of my own internal flower as the earth now waits for spring.

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.

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…

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?