Touching His Robe

We travel through life from one day to the next sometimes without even being aware of what goes on around us. Every time I get caught in the headlights on the "road of life" and see something really amazing, it catches me by surprise. One of the custodians at the school where I work showed me an amazing picture of his granddaughter's spine which had recently been operated on. The before and after were nothing short of miraculous. The fact that within a week she will be out of the hospital and walking around boggles my mind. I received a photo on my phone of the latest addition to our family, a little girl so small but delicately formed, it takes your breath away. The bright pink of the hydrangea outside of the walkway into the school is an unheard of shade that arrests your eye no matter what else may be on your mind. The tiny little bunny nibbling clover on the front lawn, shivering and hoping the huge giant of a person (me) won't notice them as they cower among the blossoms. The fact that I can sit here and type these words and they will be out on the Internet in just a few short moments. Oh, Lord, how marvelous are they works! I have an alarm set on my phone to remind me every day to pray at a certain time. My prayer partner and I have tried to keep this practice as I am notorious for neglecting my prayer life unless prompted regularly. And today when it went off, I remembered to thank God for life, for love of family and friends and for the beautiful world we inhabit. What can you thank God for today? What have you witnessed recently that has reminded you that God is with us? Think on that, just for a few moments. God's blessings abound.

Clothed in Christ

I work in a high school. And there are certain things that happen every year that are pretty universal in all high schools. This weekend, the prom is what is on all the kids' minds. Whether they are attending or not. I hear them in the hallways, "what are you wearing? what will you do with your hair?" They talk excitedly and with more animation than normal (and that's saying something, they are teenagers after all!). I looked at the daily devotional reading from Corinthians today and thought about clothes and what they mean, how we think about them. But I also thought of a bunch of other things related to wearing garments. For instance, when I was growing up, there was a saying, "the clothes make the man." It had something to do with dressing up nice and thereby being nice. Like a good fitting suit, you would be good inside and out. Of course, we know that this statement isn't really true. But I remember it was imparted as wisdom when I was a kid. My mother made it a point to dress up to go to church. It was unheard of going in your "play clothes". I carried this tradition on with my children and they grumbled about it week after week, in probably the same whiny tones I used. People today don't feel they have to dress up to go to church. "God doesn't care what I look like on the outside" is what I hear most often. And the God I have come to know and love probably doesn't care, but I still wear nice clothes to church on Sunday anyway. I don't dress up very often for anything these days so Sundays feel special when I make the effort. A guy I knew became a Mormon and he kept his "grave clothes" with him at all times. When he died suddenly of a heart attack, people felt weird about the fact that the white robe he had in his closet was all ready for him to wear. I don't know, I think it's very forward thinking to be ready for anything at any time. I'm not sure I have to wear something special mind you, but I get the idea. But all this talk about physically wearing clothes is not the point of the reading today (2 Corinthians 5:1-5). I think it has more to do with the putting on of the right attitude. Looking forward to the heavenly home we have instead of decking ourselves out in our finest suits and jewels. There is a yearning sometimes I feel when I think about being in the company of heaven, knowing that because God loves me, it won't matter whether my robes are white or even if I color my hair. What matters is that God will see the real me (warts and all!). God will welcome me because I am an heir, a daughter. I get tired trying to be something I'm not here on earth. Trying hard to fit in, or be like others. And there are wearying days when that time can't come fast enough. Now I'm not looking to do myself in, but the striving I feel some days makes me wish that heaven were here instead of in the future. So I guess I will continue to dress up in my "Sunday best" Sunday mornings. Not because I want to impress anybody, least of all God. But because I like to do it. I hope to see you there in your Sunday Smiles as well. I'll be wearing mine right along side of you, clothed in the God who loves us. I don't think I could buy a better outfit!

Being Whole

I was reading a devotional today and it talked about the man that Jesus healed of a speech impediment and deafness. He took him aside and healed him and then told the healed guy not to tell anyone. But of course the healed man went around telling everyone. Wouldn't you? Wouldn't you, if you were made whole, run around telling EVERYONE about it? It's better than winning the lottery! To be made whole. I've often wanted to be made whole. There are times when I curse my hearing loss and times when I feel justified in feeling sorry for myself. The funny thing is, I don't talk too much about it. I don't write about it much. I'm not really looking for sympathy, I don't think. But healing would be nice. To be able to hear the birds again outside the window? Yeah, that'd be really great. To know when someone was walking up in back of me instead of jumping 10 feet in the air as they innocuously pass me? That would be great, too! To be able to hear the television without the closed captioning would be nice for my family as well as me. And to hear my family's voices without the machines plugged into my ears would be worth just about anything. I remember Paul asking in one of his letters to have some kind of burden removed. I think there is speculation about what that burden might have been. But even Paul in his splendor didn't get to have his wish. For whatever the thorn in his side, it was always there. Just like not being able to hear. Most times I'm used to the lack of hearing. My hearing aids do help enormously. Most times I'm immune to the fact that there is a distinct lack of noise when I take them out at night. But once in a while, I think, why me? Why do I have to have this disability? Is there something I'm supposed to learn from this? Something I'm supposed to "teach" other people? I hope not. I've been dismal if this is my ministry. I prefer to do those things that are in the background or things that don't need much interaction for fear I wouldn't hear the interaction anyway. I do not like to trumpet that I can' hear and don't want to be the "poster girl" for those who are hearing impaired. And then there's this: when I pray and ask God to watch over those I love and care about, I don't really ask to be made whole. It's tempting. Asking for that miracle cure. But I have a feeling I'm supposed to be like this for whatever reason. And I guess when I finally get to meet God, I can ask, "what was that all about anyway?" But the funny thing is this, when I pray it doesn't matter whether I can hear or not. It's usually quiet, and sometimes I talk the hearing devices out of my ears so it's even quieter than normal. Because really in the silence of my prayers it doesn't matter whether I can hear or not, just so long as God does.

Christianity with a big "C"

We were having a discussion on Sunday in our Sunday School group about introverts, extroverts and the combination of those two things. It was observed that if all someone hears are the extroverts, then those who are the "strong, silent type" whose ideas are innovative and well reasoned will never be heard over the din. The conversation was winding around this way and that, when someone said the one thing that was guaranteed to make me get mad. They didn't say it to make me mad, I doubt they were even aware it was a "hot button" for me. But I've heard it most of my life now and it never ceases to really aggravate me. The statement was that young people say there are so many hypocrites in church nowadays they just don't see the reason to come to church. And there it is. That statement. Spoken with authority from whomever utters it. As though it was the gospel. There are so many hypocrites in church. I would like to spell it out for those who think this way. You're absolutely right! There are pews full of them. There are entire congregations full to the hilt of hypocrites! And you wanna know something else? No one is surprised by this. Except perhaps those who aren't attending church. You see it's like this. If Christians were all so perfect, so holy, so above reproach, they wouldn't have needed a savior. Jesus would not have been necessary. In fact, God could probably have gone away on a vacation to outer Andromeda and come back and not even noticed a difference! I would like those who make this statement to find one institution of man's making (or woman's making for that matter) that doesn't have hypocrites in it. Name one. Just one. Any one. Yeah, that's what I thought. See there isn't any. There can't be. Because man, woman, humans are made imperfect. They aren't going to be holier than thou, because thou is just as unholy as the next guy. No one is holier than thou except Jesus. No one. The world is made up of hypocrites and sinners. Everyone alike. Some have their sins laid bare for everyone to see, some hide them and appear to be pure as the driven snow. But no one is perfect. Everyone needs saving. From themselves. Which is why many of us are in church to begin with. We recognize that we are not perfect. We recognize the need for saving. We really, really want to be better people. But despite all the greatest of intentions we do stupid things. We are mean and petty. We are inconsiderate. We are selfish. But we are almost always contrite afterwards. But we do these things anyway. And we come back each week to the one place where we can ask for love and forgiveness to go out and try again the next week. I saw a bumper sticker which says, "Christians aren't perfect, we're just forgiven." There's a certain smack of smugness in that that I don't really like, but it reminds me that each week when I come back to church with my head hung low to my chest in embarrassment and remorse, God has already forgiven me. Grace has allowed me to come into the presence of the Almighty and be made clean once more. So yes, young people, old people, non-church goers alike, we are a hypocritical, complaining, whiny bunch. Prone to sometimes judge quickly; we give the impression that we have the right to judge. No one of course, has that right, but we do it anyway. Is your workplace any different? Your school? Did you think that church was made up of someones other than those same people? We are the same people in your businesses, your schools, standing in line at the grocery store right along side of you. We get annoyed with people who are taking too long in line, people who cut in place in traffic, we even sometimes use bad language when we're mad about something. And yes, we get mad, and sarcastic, and grumpy. We are the same as you. Are you saying that because we're part of the church we cannot be human? I hope not. Our humanity is what we share in those pews. We are a community in Christ, a loving group nonetheless because how can we be anything other? When we have the best example of love before us; Jesus? Instead of complaining about our hypocritical ways, come and see us for the way we really are. We are the body of Christ on earth, trying to find our way to the heaven that awaits. And sometimes we're cranky that it's taken so long to get there, but the journey with the people of our congregation is a mostly loving one. Even with a few whiners in the back.

Opening and Closing Doors

In my faith life I have opened and closed many doors. Some with a slam, some with a small click of the latch. Some with someone's foot firmly placed on the threshold. Life is composed of such things I think, opening and closing doors, windows, opportunities, lifestyles, whatevers. Some of the passages I've gone through should have been left alone. Some of them have been wondrous and God sent. Of course, you may argue that ALL were God-sent which is your privilege, but since this is my stream of thought, I'm sticking to my analogy. In the life of St. Marks, we have turned through passages sometimes facing forward and sometimes facing back. Today, we made a decision as a congregation which feels like a "facing forward" moment. In the world of fiscal responsibility, this was a good decision and well-thought out and explained by our council. We are indeed blessed with a congregational council that is willing to explore possibilities and be our representatives in the "running of the church". It was a good decision. Another congregation, just down the road had to make a decision. I don't know yet, what their decision was. But it was a hard one to make. I was briefly part of that community of faith before coming down the pike a piece. They are in a difficult place. The door is still swinging on its hinges whether to go this way or that. A friend of mine recently was officially declared divorced. The door in this case was shut while her foot was still on the threshold. She is smart, beautiful, funny and warm. She will be moving away from this rudely slammed door with her dignity in tact and her family and friends standing next to her, holding her hand and cracking smart aleck jokes to get that laugh out of her. But for me, this was a difficult door to watch close. I knew her ex. Okay, not well, apparently. But I thought I did. And he doesn't seem to be the same person he was before. I'm confused by his actions. I'm really annoyed on her behalf. I think I want some kind of closure, some kind of answer as to what happened, even though it didn't even happen to me. All those opening, but mostly closings has left me feeling somewhat scared and alone. It has reminded me that life is changing and it doesn't matter whether you are looking for change or not, it's gonna happen! And then I remembered the sermon today. The thought that Jesus is with us. Really with us, in person through all those in the pews and beyond. God was not brought into the world once and that was it. God is in the world, with us, if we but look through the doorway and see the faces on the other side. If we look to the right and left and see the faces of family in faith, we are not alone in the changes, in the closings, in the whatevers. God is with us. And no matter what door we face, whether open or closed, whether gilded or plain pine, whether in the church or out, NOTHING can separate us from the love of God. That was a promise made a long time ago. So I guess I'll keep opening and closing the doors as I go along. I just have to remember that someone is standing next to me as the next threshold comes into focus. And he's going through it with me whether I remember he's there or not.

We're in This Together, right?

The flowers are blooming. The trees are festooned in their Easter finery. The grass is coming up, mostly green. Earth is renewing itself even as we wake each day. The Easter story reminds us that new life comes out of even the worst tragedies. And that the love of God for all of creation is affirmed. Yeah, yeah, "alls right with the world." But the world is not alright all the time, is it? Even Spring brings about hay fever or whatever other allergies happen to lurk with the new found airborne pollen. I wish I could remember all that great stuff about Easter all during the week. Sometimes I can't even make it through a Sunday! And those buttons and bracelets that proclaim, "What Would Jesus do?", well, they just aren't helpful to me. What Jesus would do and what I do are sometimes diametrically opposed! But the idea behind that saying is probably a good one. If we could remember that Jesus was about loving your neighbor, about listening to your fellow man (or woman), about being a servant instead of the one being served, that would be great, wouldn't it? When I leave church, I usually feel pretty good about the world in general and people in the world as well. But then someone cuts me off in traffic and my rosy glow dims somewhat. And I see someone yelling at someone else or doing something not thinking of their actions and I'm once again "of the world" and not just in it. I can't keep my head in the clouds all the time. So what can I do? Well, one thing I can do is this: I can pray more often. Hunh? Yep, I said pray. See that kneeling down and getting the posture right thing isn't the idea Jesus had in mind when teaching us about communication. I think we need to communicate better with God. And that means talking to the Almighty in the car, in the grocery store and even on the street. Before you put me away in a padded cell, though, hear me out. I'm not necessarily talking about well, talking out loud--although I guess if you felt called to do that...who am I to judge? I was thinking more along the lines of that silent commentary we have running through our minds at any time of the day. Wouldn't it be great if instead of thinking that so-and-so could use a new haircut, we would instead ask God to re-direct our thoughts to something more constructive instead of destructive? What if instead of saying to ourselves, "God, I am so useless" we thought, "God, use me as your instrument today." What if we would instead channel our thoughts to not necessarily What Would Jesus Do, but What Would Jesus Have me do? There's a world of difference with those last three words added. And it's worthy of consideration I think. What would Jesus have me do today? The next hour? The next day, week, month, year? So hooray for Spring, allergies and all. And Alleluia for Easter! And let's look for a new beginning this year. A new outlook. A new prayer life and direction. I'm all for it, how about you?

The End of Lent

I didn't do what I said I was going to do for Lent. I didn't really pay attention every day to the miraculous. I got sidetracked. The problem with the "looking for the amazing among the mundane" is that the mundane can be almost fascinating in its appearance. It can keep you from noticing those things like the fact that you can breathe and move and have our being. I kept being distracted. And then things happened to help me focus again. I'm writing about them not because I want your sympathy, although that would be nice, too. I'm writing about them because Lent is ending and it seems fitting to bring it up. About a month ago a woman died with whom I was friends. She wasn't my best friend. We frequently didn't talk for months. She was on my personal prayer list though. She had cancer in so many places I think in some ways I was afraid to be near her, as if I could catch it by contact. She was a gracious person. Even when it hurt to hug her, she embraced you warmly in greeting. Her eyes would light up when she saw someone she knew and she would become animated and joyful. Until that last week. Nothing could punch the wall then. It was too much pain, too much of a long struggle. Just too much. I kept in contact with her through some of her other friends. I listened to reports of her decline. I waited for the phone call to come and it came. She was well liked and respected. She was a "Godly" person and a good one as well--that doesn't always happen as we well know. And after her death, the daffodils came up in our yards. I had cut a bunch for her at this time last year and brought them around. When I saw those yellow nodding crowns I was frozen in the spot. How could she not be here for the daffodils, I thought? The season of Lent is ending for another year. Easter will be upon us next week. And she is not here for the joyful celebration of the resurrection. But then, she is, too. She's probably enjoying the biggest party in heaven as the world resounds with Alleluias. Because for her, the Lord is risen. He is risen, indeed. And she is there to see him this year. Can't think of anybody else who should be there more than her right now. So party on Elaine! The second thing which distracted me, was another death. This one was sad, but I wasn't as close to this other person as I was to the first. She was an okay person I guess. She was a teacher to both of my children in elementary school. But one of her most ardent supporters and care-givers is a friend of mine. She is generous to a fault. And so caring I look like Attila the Hun in comparison. She had given of her time, her love, her compassion, her warmth and wit so unselfishly to this person, that I was in awe. And when her friend died and left her, she was very empty. She still struggles with the emptiness of the situation. I'm not as good a friend as she, I know. But I tried to listen to her when I can. I try to encourage her when I can. Can you image how it was for Mary Magdalene to get to the tomb and find it empty? She was already feeling the emptiness. Her very good friend wasn't there to talk to anymore. He wasn't there to explain things or help to guide her or even to make light-hearted banter with her. My friend probably feel like Mary. And so I'd like to remind her that Easter comes to all of us, eventually. And that the emptiness and sorrow she feels today will probably grow less and less until the day when she is reunited with all the saints. Just a thought about Lent.