Holy days

Holidays are nice. Yesterday was a wonderful change of pace. I cooked dinner, but even that didn't stress me out. The dinner went together so efficiently that our only problem was that I was done an hour and a half before I was supposed to be. We had my famous double glazed honey ham, equally famous baked hashbrowns, corn, stuffing, biscuits. Mmm, Mmm.

The day was like a pacific island in the middle of a turbulent sea of stress. Holy Leisure, a Sabbaths rest for this pastor who has a tough time observing that commandment. It is not that I work to hard, but rather I am not disciplined enough to make my rest holy.

Yesterday was a holy day. Even today is full of holiday rest. My mouth is lifted, both in smiles and in praise.

Obscene trees

My wife handed me this postcard from one of our larger churches. She looked at me, her head tilted, surprise a smile as she waited for my reaction. I looked at it trying to figure out what she wanted me to see. Was it a presentation of "Scrooge" like they put on at Summit? It didn't look like it. What could it be?

A few seconds went by... Silence.

Then I see it... And I screamed. Out loud.

Stare at the picture in silence, count to thirty and then scream in fright, and you may understand the absurdity of the moment. I realized what I was looking at was a "Singing Christmas Tree." Faribault did a singing Christmas tree. The first year they borrowed the contraption from a church up north. The second year, they decided to build their own tree. It took up the majority of the large platform requiring building of extentions. It reached almost to the top of the vaulted cieling. Once built it had to be used every year. As obscene as it size was the effort, argument and stress that went into what they thougth was their main way to fufil the great commission. I can only recall a few even coming forward, and I know there wasn't follow up.

The tree makes me angry. It got me started looking to be a relational church rather than one wrapped up in its programs and politics.

All those feelings came rushing back when I saw the tree forming the triangle on the lower half of the postcard. I screamed. I tore the card in two and my wife threw it away. I pulled it out of the trash to share it with you.

Labyrinth actualized

Last night I walked a sacred path. I walked with God. I could feel, as I twisted and turned around the labyrinth, my body grow warm. That seems to be the way the body reacts to Spirit. Even when praying for someone you can see their cheeks flush when God is moving on them, or so I learned in college.

My legs tingled, my whole body seemed bathed in the presence of God. When I went into the rosette, the space in the middle, each pedal held a different concept for my meditation. I followed a traditional contemplation of creation. Especially coming to thinking on human kind, I paused before stepping in. The pain of the fall and all our aspirations to know God flowed through my mind. There I lingered a bit. Finally when I came to contemplating the Unknowable Boundless Deity, I hesitated greatly before entering. Then when I lingered in that spot of meditation, my body felt aflame. It felt as though flames licked my hair as long as I stood there. I took my glasses off and wept into my hand.

On the way back out talking with God, I felt like he still hadn't answered any of the questions I sit with, but again he is there with me. I felt him saying through his touch that his presence was my consolation.

When I came out of the labyrinth I reflected on the community aspect of the experience. I had always imagined waling a labyrinth in some lonely place, alone. Passing people praying and meditating was a grace in itself. I watched my friend Rich walk, as he was the last. I watched as he paused in prayer, those moments were dear to me. Even sitting in my seat I felt the Spirit flood over me again, perhaps the way he was at that moment pouring over Rich.

At home as I was falling asleep I could still feel the presence of God bathing me. God is so gracious. I stand in awe of you Lord, that you would meet our seeking hearts even in the midst of a maze, a plaything for our bodies with divine consequence. I adore you, and feel a deep hunger to step into a deep communion of devotion.

[Listening to: Jesus Be Golrified - Skillet - Ardent Worship Live (04:39)]

Space

My office, even the sanctuary is not friendly to my contemplation. My devotional life is marked by restlessness, when I grow restless in my study, I'll go pray until the restlessness passes and I can think again. So much calls my attention and makes me uneasy around what is my workplace.

I've never thought before about my interaction with my environment as an important element to my spiritual formation. I have long been an atmosphere junkie. I love those spaces where the atmosphere is just right, like the coffee shop. I can breathe in the aromas, feel the warmth of my cup and the vapors rise to my face. I find it easy to meet with God there. It's great, but it is a half hour drive to the nearest coffee shop.

I put ten candles on a table in the cleanest corner of my office, next to the couch. This is my first day experimenting with making my space holy. I framed my activities and places with prayer. When I came in this morning I lit the candles and sat in the dark listening for a while. I'm also drawn to praying the Divine Office, or something like it that would be rhythmic. I am interested in the rhythmic ebb and flow, consolation and desolation.

[Listening to: Adding To The Noise - Switchfoot - The Beautiful Letdown (02:51)]

disconnect

Spiritual Direction is kicking my butt. I never thought just talking about where God is taking me would drive me so deeply to discipline. After our conversation, my director picks something for me to sit with, to listen. It is not like being held accountable for my devotional life, and it's not that this month between meetings with my spiritual director has been marked by unusual discipline, but rather I see how dear those times are to me, and how much opportunity has passed me by.

The last couple weeks my blog entries have been sparse. There were times when journaling that I would see gaps a month long. I don't know what was going on during those times. This last couple of weeks though has been a time of desolation. I haven't sat to listen to God, or at least, when I have, I haven't heard well. What I have received applied to my sermon, but was not quick to engage my own heart (?) so that it appeared in my lectionary writings rather than here. Yet, I love him. Yet, I worship him. Yet, I yearn for his Glory.

Lord, I long for your consolation, but do not begrudge this time of growth. Strengthen me, discipline me, and bring my life, my space, my time, and my responsibility into line with your whispers. Thank you.

My vote, the day after

I’m saddened today. The election results have left me confused. I am confused about what it means to be a Christian in a political world. I grew up a republican, but over the last few years I have abandoned the grand old party.

No party really represents my values. As a Christian I feel I must take elements from both. Middle of the road? Yes, but those middle of the road politicians take the opposite elements that I would. Perhaps the continuum from conservative to liberal is a circle, and I am on the other side of the circle from the moderates. What does that make me? A radical moderate? An anti-moderate?

At any rate, I felt this year that being a democrat my values would align on more issues. I mean what do I agree with the Republicans on anyway? The place of Christianity in society. The ending of abortion. To a lesser degree affirming the heterosexual lifestyle.

The democrats share my values when it comes to passive resistance, social justice, gun control, gay rights or any other civil right, environmental stewardship, humanitarian aide, education funding, and they don’t presume to legislate a change of heart. I figured that if I was going to let any group suffer it should be me. Let them take on the Christians. Bring some persecution, through defeat we find victory.

But those damned Christians came out to “vote their values” and wound up with Bush for four more years. God where will that take us? I trust you. I do.

Does this mean that I was wrong to look to extend mercy, grace and justice in your name? Does this mean that Christians around the country have confused biblical values with political conservatism?

Maybe, but God you are in control, aren’t you. I trust you, I do.

What do I do now? I will go on promoting biblical values here, bring social justice by my own hand where I can, and continue to engage system.

Viva la resistance!

Jesus, comfort Ella

My parents left tonight. We wanted to wait until Ella went to bed so the goodbyes wouldn’t be so painful. I thought it was best for Ella, and Grandma couldn’t handle seeing Ella’s face as they left.

We all didn’t really want Ella to go to bed and have our time together, a family, end. We let her stay up. It wasn’t until 10:30 that we tried to put her down. She was over-tired and maybe sensed something was going on. She didn’t want to leave Grandma and Grandpa to go upstairs. As she was waving good night she began to cry.

We hurried so they could leave. Ella’s cries from her bed could be heard in every stillness. We prayed and hugged and they headed out to the bus.

As they were leaving Elaine and I felt sad for Ella, She didn’t get to say goodbye to the big bus, she would wake up tomorrow to an emptiness. Perhaps this wasn’t the best way for her. We heard a thump upstairs and some crying.

We found her, fallen out of bed. I scooped her up and held her, the very thing I was anxious to do as her cries pierced our silence. Elaine sang a lullaby as I rocked her. I prayed that God would hold her through the night, singing to her, and give her peace, that she would know real love tonight.

My last desperate prayer I couldn’t give words, silently I prayed, “Lord, I give you my daughter as you gave me your Son. Take care of her”

Good week! (I hope)

My parents are coming this weekend along with my brother J.D. Their main reason for coming is to meet the little guy, but I am glad to see my family. In addition to that, I convinced dad to preach this weekend. With my freedom from sermon preparation (with the exception of my lectionary blog) I am going to engage in some writing (see my new post on my short story blog) and catch up on some visitation (1/3 down).

I managed to overcome a strong anxiety to visit a parishioner today. It was a great visit. I knew if I just did it, that it would be difficult but rewarding. Lord help me to be disciplined in the face of strong emotions like fear, anxiety and saddness. How I need you!

I sure hope this is a productive week. I need to create a director's book for the chistmas play I am directing for the community theatre and it would be nice to get a jump on a few sermons. It will still be full even though my main responsibility for the week will dad's. If anyone has any thoughts on this weeks lectionary, help me out with some comments!

Labyrinth

At ministerial today we had an exciting discussion about labyrinths. I have tried meditating with an online labyrinth, so I was cuirous if any of the guys had experiene with the real thing. Turns out there will be a mobile prayer labyrinth at a local high school November 10th. I can't wait.

Chuck shared his experience praying through a labyrinth that took him three and half hours. Cliff said that at a convent he went to in south Michigan the labyrinth had stones that marked the place for the nuns who found they could go no further that day. Wow. The power of God meets the seeking mind.

Ah... The contemplative life.

Paper cups

I ran out of cone filters for my coffee machine, so I took one of the big wrap around squares for the percolator and folded it into a paper cup. I remember when I learned how to fold origami paper cups.

It was Sunday school, third grade I think. One of my friends had learned it in school and taught us. I remember this day not for coloring the inside of my cup, but for what happened after church.

There was a boy, who came to church that day, who we thought was strange, and dirty, and dressed funny. He didn’t belong. I didn’t belong either; I was the pastor’s kid fighting for acceptance after three years in the church. I treated this boy, coloring his cup, with an arrogant cruelty.

After the service my brother and I fought over who had to sit with him in the back seat. We didn’t hide our distain for this boy as we rode over dirt and tracks and miles of ground to a shack in the country.

Often I have looked back on this day, my heart torn apart. In every way this innocent boy was me and I hated him.

Today, it strikes me that dad must have been painfully disappointed in us that day. I would be disappointed if my kids acted like we did.

Before making my coffee this afternoon, I had my first meeting with my Spiritual Director. As he acted a Zozama and mirror to my soul, I found myself struggling with guilt and duty. Am I doing all that I should be as pastor? Am I living up to the great responsibility that I feel? How does my father feel about me today?

Lord I will listen for you. Are you proud or disappointed? Will you come to my aid?