Remembering Days Gone By

Beloved ~

While getting ready for work this morning, my body, mind and spirit were coated in molasses.  I moved very slowly.  Tired and grieving, I climbed into the car.  I cried a great deal.

All I want to do is to sit with my daddy.  All I desire is to snuggle up close with him.  I don't want to see or hear or touch anyone else.

Perhaps being a nanny is hard right now because what I want more than anything is to be little again.  I want to be a small child once more -- knowing what I know now -- climbing up onto my daddy's lap at the end of his work day.  I want that time with him back.

Sharing snacks of peanut butter and crackers while watching cartoons or reading a book was one of my favorite ways to end the day.  When everyone else was asleep, I would lay in my bed and wait for the sound of daddy's car to drive up.  I'd sneak out of bed and greet him at the door and we would have our special time together.  The nights when daddy would tell me a story about life on the farm when he was little were the best...

A Note of Gratitude

Beloved,

I want to express my gratitude for Your Presence this weekend.  As I traveled north for a couple of days, You used the time to clear the air.  You filled my lungs with the Breath of Your Spirit and wrapped Your arms about me through the embraces from my brothers and sisters in Christ.

I am incredibly thankful for this breath of fresh air and the peace You gave me during this time.  I am filled with joy in the presence of my brother and sisters who have prayed with me for many years.  Snuggling on the couch, mulling over the life questions, wondering together what You are in the midst of doing in our lives, and allowing the questions to linger -- without simple platitudes or easy answers, without context-less Scripture passages and promises that have no backing -- simply listening together to Your silence.  That is exactly what I needed.

I am thankful.

For the music and the prayers and the welcome of my St Thomas family, for the love and the joy and the smiles, for the way You met me in the bread and the wine and the arms of my brothers and sisters, I am very thankful.  I wept with joy at the Eucharist table.  My spirit danced in the midst of the crowd.  I could have sprouted wings and flown to the rooftops in the breaking of bread and pouring forth of the wine.

Thank You for meeting me there.

Thank You for bringing me home.

Thank You.

Thank You.

Thank You.

A Cup of Contentment

As I continue my summer vacation, or more precisely, as I begin to relax into the atmosphere of an unhurried relaxation period, I find myself re-entering contemplation.  I was never very far from it, but there are times in the school year when contemplation must be placed to the side and a paper must be written despite not coming to a satisfactory conclusion.  The more schooling I receive, the more I am aware that I have an insatiable appetite for learning.  There is always more room to grow, and always deeper to dig.  Perhaps no paper is truly ever finished.  Time constraints and word counts place limitations on our expression, but each new class stimulates my mind and heart in ways that intimacy and passion arouse the body.  What a precious gift it is to be able to attend seminary!

Some people will ask me when I will be done.  I've even caught myself wondering this from time to time.  But graduation is not the goal.  Ordination is not even the end.  No.  Even those things are just marking places of new beginning.

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.

Letting the Bread Rise: A Reflection on the Life of a Theology Student

Photo by Matt Wynne

To be a student of theology is to be countercultural. In a world where technology advances by the day and races are clocked to the thousandth of a second, we are called to sit. While electronic organizers remind us of upcoming appointments and birthdays, and our latest gadgets keep us on our toes, ever advancing us to the next thing to be done and the next checkmark on our list, the theology student waits. Or at least that was how it appeared before I entered seminary myself.

While making bread this afternoon, (the dough for which is currently on the rise) I have been reminded of my countercultural status. You cannot rush bread-making; so too flows the process of developing theology. So also will effective ministry be.

Once, when Jesus was asked to define the Kingdom of God, after looking around for a moment, His eyes landed on a woman teaching her children how to make bread. As she added the yeast to the flour, she hummed a little tune with minor notes sprinkled throughout, and she recounted the story of the Great Exodus, when the bread had no time to rise. Her hands were strong from her labors, and they gently reached down to sooth a fussy infant as she left the freshly-formed dough on a sun-heated stone to rise.

The Kingdom of God, Jesus said, is like the yeast which that dear woman just added to her flour mixture. It is already present, as I AM in the world, and the Spirit of the Lord will stir up inside of you all, and then a season of waiting will come. The yeast is working within the dough as it rests; so too will it be in the Kingdom.

This time of waiting and letting the Kingdom rise among us is often more difficult than it seems. Since we live in a culture that values activities, commitments, pledges and busyness, taking a step back is difficult. The seminary student has one foot in the world of activity, one foot at home with family and spouse or loved ones, one hand in the ministry of their worshipping community and another holding a pen or flying over the keyboard in attempt to make the deadlines for their assignments.

Still, in the midst of it all, taking a deep breath, closing our eyes, and tuning our ear toward our Beloved, resting our head on His chest, listening to Her heartbeat, is the most crucial thing of all. As we enter into the rhythm of the next quarter, it is this heartbeat which guides our lives as shepherds. In these times of waiting, the yeast of the Kingdom will work its way into every aspect of our lives, and when the time is right, people will come from all over town to taste and know that the Lord is good.

You cannot rush the making of bread, nor the savoring of good coffee or the complexities of delightful wine. Neither can we rush the Spirit’s work within us, much less in another being. May we, as we begin another term of study, remember to pause, to breathe, to savor, to listen, and may the Kingdom of God rise within, among and around us through the power of the Holy Spirit, in Jesus’ name, to the glory of our Beloved, amen!

What do They Taste in You? A Contemplation on Fruitfulness in the Kingdom

"A Fruitful Fall Altar" - photo by TristaWynne

In Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation, Parker Palmer writes,

Burnout is a state of emptiness, to be sure, but it does not result from giving all I have: it merely reveals the nothingness from which I was trying to give in the first place… When the gift I give is integral to my own nature, when it comes from a place of organic reality within me, it will renew itself – and me – even as I give it away. Only when I give something that does not grow within me do I deplete myself and harm others as well, for only harm can come from a gift that is forced, inorganic, unreal (pp. 49-50).

This quote, indeed a large portion of Palmer’s book, makes me think of our churches today, and leads me to contemplate my own life as well. I wonder how different the world might be if we each were taught to become ourselves rather than trying to become someone or something else. Life is not one-size-fits-all, and neither are our worshipping communities. We are created with unique talents, abilities, passions, hopes, dreams and desires. What would the world look like if we all encouraged each other to become the beautiful ones God has created each of us to be rather than pushing our own agendas on one other? What would our congregations look like? How would our relationships at home be different? What about our relationship within our own skin?

Sometimes I find my mind, emotions and body all telling me different things, for they all seem to be seeking after someone else’s dream of who or what I am to become, or what I am to do. In the stillness of the night however, often about four o’clock in the morning when the city around me is quiet, I’m awakened in the darkest hour; in those moments I discern the calling of the One who created me, and I have peace. This One does not ask me to do anything or to go anywhere, but simply to be. Connected: that is what I am called to be.

Jesus, my Lord, says,

I am the vine, you are the branches.
Those who abide in me will bear much fruit to the glory of my Father in heaven.
Abide in my love.

When I am striving to do things through my own strength, or trying to fill a need simply because it is there, I am not being faithful to this call to abide in my Lord’s love. I find myself in a place of emptiness because I was not rooted in the simple call to be still and know that I am God. When I take time to listen, to know the One who formed me, then I become better acquainted with myself. And when I know myself, then I am less likely to over-extend and reach the point of burnout, and I am more likely to bear fruit for the coming Kingdom.

In light of this confession, I extend to you the following invitation for meditation just as my Lord has been extending to me:

Consider your interactions in the last 24 hours, the last week, the last month, etc.

When have you felt like you were empty or depleted? Is a relationship, volunteer endeavor or other activity feeling forced or draining you?

Ask the Lord for wisdom in your situation and covenant with your spirit to listen for the voice of our Lord.

Find a piece of fruit and take it into your hand. Observe it. Feel it. Taste it. Consider its source. The plant from which it came was not depleted when it was picked. On the contrary – it had more energy to create even more fruit, and was made healthy.

Consider the fruits of the spirit. Contemplate how they are being formed within you even at this very moment. How are they being expressed in your life so that others can taste and see that the Lord is good?

Ask the Lord to show you how best to be fruitful and to be filled. Root yourself deeply in the Presence of the Living God. Listen for your Maker’s voice in Scripture, nature, music, healthy relationships, insightful people and your own heart.

The Lord created you and you are beautiful. Trust that the One who formed your heart will not lead you astray, nor leave you empty.

God bless your journey toward fruitfulness and abundance.

 May we be found continually drawing from the strong, ever-growing vine of Christ’s love through the power of the Holy Spirit to the glory of God, the Father of all humanity, so that we may overflow with healing, nourishing, life-giving fruit for each other and for the people and world around us in Jesus’ name, amen.

Shifting Directions: A Call to Stillness on the Journey

One day while walking with a friend through a local botanical garden, I found that she was, as Frederick Buechner puts it, getting lost in her own rhetoric . She spiraled around and around in her self-depreciating thoughts and pontifications as we quickly walked along a stony pathway. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed another path, one without the sharp, noisy stones, but lined instead with soft, supportive bark shavings. I leaned in the direction of the smaller, curvy trail to our left and invited her to join me. The chatter stopped as suddenly as the noise from our footfalls ceased echoing through the wooded area. Our breathing slowed as we were engulfed in the peaceful area near the ravine. Even from several feet away, I could feel her blood pressure lowering and saw the wildness drift out of her eyes. I slowed my gait and breathed deeply until we became still and listened to the fluttering wings of a nearby jay bird. The call of a raven hovered on the gentle breeze, and then it was still.


After a length of time I quietly entered the silence with a verbalized rumination on the beauty of that place, noting that I had come down that particular trail several times when I needed Mother Nature to break the cycle of chatter in my mind. We continued standing there for a long moment, allowing ourselves to be filled by the presence of our Creator. As I slowly began making my way around another bend in the pathway and I heard her soft footfalls behind me, I noted that when life seems to be overwhelming to me, I search for things to be grateful for – usually from the things that we often take for granted, like the ability to walk, speak, think, run, breathe, and the presence of running water, food, clothing, shelter, the ability to see this beautiful scenery and to reach out and touch it, receiving the sensations through my fingertips without feeling pain. I let the words remain speaking in the silence that followed until we returned to the path of stones and let the rhythmic sound fill the rest of our time together.

At the end of our walk through the garden, my friend noted the intensity of the shift between the spiraling chaos that she had entered into and the serenity she was led into through the simple change of direction. It was as if, she said, I had physically grabbed hold of her heart and yanked it out of the darkness and brought it into the light which, at that moment, she had almost forgotten existed. Although I had neither physically touched her nor pushed her into the light, the change of atmosphere had brought the shift in an immediate and striking way. As soon as the surrounding atmosphere was quiet, her spirit became suddenly aware of its own foolish chatter and it ceased making noise. She thanked me for drawing her out of herself and back into the world again.

The truth of the matter is that I am only able to do for others what has already been done for me. My Lord showed me when I was very young that the quickest way to escape the chaos, whether it be around or inside of me, was to change my direction, to listen to the creation around me, and through the avenue of nature to listen to my Maker’s heartbeat and align my own with that of the Divine. I pray that you will be blessed by relationships with people who know when to bring you into the realm of peace and stillness. You will be tremendously blessed when you enter the silence that draws you into the Light of Love and Peace. May the Lord grant you rich times of fulfillment and the joy of discovering yourself in the awesome heartbeat of our Loving Creator! Let it be through the power of the Holy Spirit, through Jesus’ name to the glory of our Great and Glorious God, amen.