Prayers of the People

Today is Pentecost Sunday. It marks the birth of the Church. Where the Holy Spirit came upon the disciples and they were emboldened to speak about this topsy turvy kingdom and its prince of peace, Jesus. It is the day where the Peter who had abandoned Jesus no longer lived in shame, and instead spoke boldly that this moment was holy as people from all nations could hear the promise of Jesus in their own language. In the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, God declared all people belonged in the kingdom of heaven, that all children are beloved, and we are never alone. “‘And in the last days it shall be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams; even on my male servants and female servants in those days I will pour out my Spirit, and they shall prophesy.”  Today our country is devastated by the reality that not all lives have mattered, that there have been powers and principalities at play in ways we have only begun to understand. Today we weep with our siblings of color as we witness another time where the systems that are meant to protect life instead take it because of the color of skin. This is so heavy. To make it light would be a transgression, but the Spirit is here. She is working in and throughout us. She is weeping with the family of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and the many others who have died because of the sin of racism. She is inviting us today to lament, to weep with those who weep, to repent of our sins, to lay our lives down and listen to the children of God cry out for justice.

God of Shalom

Of purest and truest peace,

You invite us to repentance.

Jesus, prince of the upside down kingdom,

You invite us to lay our lives down.

Holy Spirit of Pentecost,

Spirit poured out on all people,

You invite us to listen.

Triune God,

Diversity and unity embodied in intimacy,

You invite us to join in the reconciliation of the world.

Today we gather as your children.

We join with the great cloud of witnesses, crying out,

“Come quickly Lord Jesus”

Have mercy upon us.

Oh Lord Jesus, Reveal in us the sin of racism.

Where in our action or in action, we have transgressed against Your beloved ones.

Have mercy upon us.

We repent. We turn away. We count the cost, and say, “no more.”

We grieve the ways racism has permeated our way of being, in our families, our churches, our city, our government, our world. 

Have mercy upon us.

We ask for humility to listen and truly hear our siblings. Grant us a posture of curious love.

In our listening stir in us a spirit of intercession.

Have mercy upon us. 

For George, Breonna, Ahmaud, and every body whose color has made them a victim of violence and hate, we beseech You for justice and redemption.

Have mercy upon us.

Grant us tender hearts, that walk in humility, love deeply, and don’t turn away from hard things.

Help us to see & stand with the marginalized among us.

Have mercy upon us.

Holy Spirit, remind us it is not an us versus them, but a we. We are your beloved ones being invited to lay our lives for the other.

Have mercy upon us.

Amen.

Lost

"Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves." by Henry David Thoreau 

Anyone with halfway decent Google skills could search any topic and find a relatblerlatablerrelatblerrelatblerlatablerelatblerlatablerrelatblerrelatblerlatablerrelatblerlatablerquotes. I knew I felt lost, but different have a specific line to pull it in - thus Google saved the day. If only Google could answer the meaning of life, the universe, and everything.... Oh wait, it can. The answeransweranswer is 42.

For the non-Geeks The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is the reason for life meaning 42, and no we don't know why it is that way.

There are so many beautiful thoughts about being lost. It seems that most great intellectuals, poets, or writers have at one time talked about the idea of being lost. For those of whose spirits feel a sense of lostness its ironic how little consoling these ideas give. When one is melancholic lost, someone discussing the beauty of discovery through being lost sounds quite drab - perhaps even superfluous. 

I read a book, and like many people discover with the right type of books, it changed my life. It was a book that was encouraging and challenging. Yet like most things in a matter of weeks, months its lessons were all but forgotten. I am in the desert of lostness now, and the grain from yesteryear seems but a mirage in the back of my mind. 

Yet, ironically enough, it spoke to being lost. While that is not a title of a chapter, nor is it a key point, I would say that Prototype discusses throughout it the process of being lost and even perhaps a way to be found. For the average Christian we have heard the metaphors of being lose and now found to the point where it seems inapplicable to real life. Once we are saved we aren't lost anymore right? In the process of being the one that the Shepherd comes after, we will never again find ourselves wandering in a wilderness. At least that's what we expect. Yet we all hear about the process of wilderness, of going out to the desert to discover our identity in God, much like Christ had to. (Another thought from Prototype.) But what if we are  in the wilderness and don't even know it? Wandering, meandering, wondering why the things that once satisfied leave us so empty? It is this sense of lostness that I speak of - a holistic separateness from even the most intimate of circumstances, not knowing how you got here or why. 

In Prototype, Martin talks about the Gerasene demoniac in a very beautiful way. 

"He had a name assigned to him before the foundation of the world, a name he had lost touch with." In man cultures to know ones name is an intimate rite few are given privilege, it is attached to one's true identity and here we seen this demoniac lost his name, lost the very sense of who he was. Martin goes on to say that even in "the midst of his unending self-destructive behavior, in the midst of his round-the-clock angst, amid the pitiless darkness of the tombs, the power of God broke through and reestablished the man’s name, his identity as one created in the image of the Father." 

Jesus broke through the lostness, and made this man whole - made him remember who he really was.

I guess that's the pain of being lost. When you lose who you are. Honestly I love getting lost on the road, taking various back roads just to discover the unfamiliar territory. (All while knowing that my GPS can get me back home.) At times being lost in direction can be exhilarating, an adventure, a challenge waiting to be overcome. But who of us wants to lose ourselves? 

We have all seen the characters in media that portray amnesia. For the most part they are placed in comedic situations, where we can sympathize but not be too wrecked by the lostness the other is going through. I think of 50 First Dates, where Drew Barrymore suffered a horrible wreck and since then wakes up every morning forgetting the day before, always replaying the day before her accident. The other main character played by Adam Sandler, falls for her and yet has to woe her on a daily basis - a tedious, and not always successful task. Yet in his love for her, he doesn't give up, and even in marriage, and raising children he reminds her on a daily basis who she is. 

In the process of our being lost we need a community to remind us of who were are.

If you have seen 50 First Dates, it is humorous to see the entire Hawaiian community Barrymore lives pretend to live in that specific day. They keep the same menu, newspapers, TV everything to help cushion her - but it keeps her from moving forward, from doing anything with her life. Its loving but an easy love. Sandler is not satisfied with keeping things at the status quo. He loves her, but wants her to experience life, to discover who she is now not then. 

Often times it seems the Church as the Body of Christ lives more like Barrymore's community, loving yet keeping things at the status quo. Afraid of the commitment, the uncertainty, the effort demanded to help her know who she is now and can become. When we as members of the Body get lost, forgetting who we are we need the corporate Body to dive deep, stay committed, and draw us back to who we are. There is definitely a time of isolation in wilderness, that is certain and is often exampled throughout the Bible. But there is also a real and definite need for community, so that when we see a lost heart we walk with them not judge them, leave them or ignore their real need. 

"He soon showed me such signs of friendship and respect, as made my heart glad; and I felt that, after all, mine would be no lost life." George MacDonald Phantastes

We need each other to help us find ourselves, in the midst of being lost, we need community to draw us back to the One who has spoken our identity. Often in our struggles, our times of being lost we feel we have lost everything, most especially ourselves. But in the words of George MacDonald's Phantastes, "I learned that it was not myself, but only my shadow, that I had lost." Maybe your friendship, your commitment to be with me even in the lost times will help me remember to be found. 

memories

Fragile dolls

Mirror images of our own identities 

Beautiful 

Similar 

But never quite ourselves

Broken limbs 

Broken hearts 

As we try to figure out 

Who we search what these Blisses may be 

Unique Aloneness

an unpublished, unedited blog from October 2014.

Sitting in the dance studio lobby, waiting for my daughter's 90 minutes of ballet, tap and jazz - here in the chaotic hall I find my respite. It is my 90 minutes of "me" time. But with a nagging feeling of being alone from the social event I just left, Netflix being down and my new headphones broken in one ear my precious time seems violated....

I never knew I needed time alone. But as I have become an adult I find the need to do what I like, to express my own self, is not only important but sometimes essential for getting through the day. As a doer, I am excellent and going till the breaking point. Not stopping till everything falls apart forcing me to stop moving. This is seen in my work, my marriage, my parenting, my ministry and friendships - I go until I can go no more and the world can see who I really am. Because truly they wouldn't seen anything else but what I do, for I am a doer...

That's not true, I hear my husband speak, a soft but firm voice much like the Holy Spirit. I struggle with worth, with place, with knowing myself and doing is the way I most easily reconcile all the struggles inside. You see the place I just left before coming here was an ice cream social, it was for the seminary my husband attends. (Note I said he attends as I am taking a semester off and have isolated myself from that community.) These people are friends, acquaintances, ministry partners, professors, and even my pastors. But walking into that crowd of people I felt a rush of aloneness. A sea of isolation gripped my heart, as my current speechlessness due to illness forced me to see myself. I didn't know my role. I was neither the facilitator, nor the student, I wasn't the comrade, or the employee, I was not the one supposed to be hospitable, nor was I a new face others sought out. Truly with my five year old daughter by my side, I felt horribly out of place and wanted to hide. I hated it. I always hate that feeling.

It's not an unfamiliar wrap, rather it's one I've struggled with most of my adult life. I am a highly extroverted, social butterfly that without a role I die suddenly, like the frost kills the fruit. So I avoided role-less situations. I have my husband with me, and if he isn't I put on a role - a self assign a necessary identity to the group dynamic. But if I am truly myself, just me - we'll I'm so unfamiliar with her surely no one lee would recognize her as the friend they've made.

Oh the awkward moments! The times of saying your name for the third time, of being welcomed but not known, yes those moments when you may be recognized but truly you are unknown.

Beloved, that is the time for hospitality. Churches, groups, people - we all say welcome. But so many of us never act it out. We avoid those ones who make us uncomfortable, the high calorie people we find ourselves making excuses to not talk to. We don't care to go past the basic facts, inviting others into who we are. You know that's what we all want, in those moments of unique and utterly aloneness - when our own personhood is in question, we want to be gathered up into the story of the other. To be grabbed by the heart and hand by another's world, and thus finding ourselves not nearly alone as we thought. In those moments of utter vulnerably we are given the rare opportunity to find something new about ourselves, but only through the act of the other.

Today was not my day to be raptured by another, because I had to face my loneliness, my complete sense of lostness - especially in the midst of my heroes, my examples, my friends. See while holistic hospitality is the gift God wanted to remind me of, the need for role is what God is trying to repair.

I'll be honest. I've called myself many things.
Mom.
Wife.
Friend.
Administartor.
Student.
Teacher.
Boss.
Employee.
 theologian.
 Seeking pastor.
Missionary.

But I will say this... The only one of those I hold onto day and night are those that I can accomplish on my own. Through my own strength, initiative, and gifting I can accomplish and live out many of those roles - so in the darkest days, and highest nights I hold onto them because I CAN DO IT.

Those roles that I can't make happen... The theologian, the pastor, the missionary.... These are gifts given by God, not roles I can put on and off as I please. They are enrapturing roles, encompassing identities, ways of living not streams of acting. And if I were to be honest, I don't trust God or my own worthiness to be given such a gift.

I always thought it was just a trust issue with God, but I'm finding more and more I don't trust my own value in the eyes of the Creator. If I am not doing, I am not being valued. I can't earn these, and I have to trust a God who operates on a completely different level than I to bring them about. You see, I don't trust anyone to be more committed than I - especially a distant deity.

So here is my prayer in contrast to my confession.

God,
You are here.
In the dirty spaces,
The crowded lobbies,
Your Spirit is present.
 I will speak boldly then,
In my own voice I will confess,
I trust You not.
Where the transgression lies,
I do not know,
But I feel it so ever deeply -
"You've done me wrong".
I know this is foolish,
But Lord if I'm honest,
I feel hurt by You.
You know me better,
You know me best.
So precious Jesus,
The Savior, please respond to me.
Call me.
Oh precious Jesus,
Call me.
I feel like one of here friends of John,
For some reason you've passed me by.
I feel like the other brother of Philip,
The one you did not speak to.
I want to be called.
I want to follow you.
I want to see that road,
Or have the blinding light,
Encounter Your glory
And be named.
Mark me Spirit.
Call me to you so I may be found, known and loved.

nothing Scary

In reading Matthew 3 this morning, I was struck by how we read the Bible. For many of us the Bible holds literal words, most of which are directives from God, with little to no space for the humanness of the writers. When we read John the Baptist talking about Jesus and the chaff being thrown into unquenchable fire - we read it as though God himself is telling us that those who are chaff will be thrown into that fire.

But what if we don't read Scripture that way? What if we interacted with this sacred text, as a dangerous book that reveals not only the heart of God but our own nature. That as we read the words, hear the stories, interact with the themes we aren't being given a textbook or manual but an invitation to be revealed and to see?

The more time that passes here in South Dakota, I find myself more and more grateful for my childhood, my adolescence, and the spiritual spaces of college/grad school. When I sit down and read Scripture I'm not afraid of the questions that are certain to arise. Give me enough time and I'll wrestle through any text to try to find what God's heart is on the matter. Through that wrestling I know I will be changed, my motives will be unveiled, my own lack apparent and I will either see or long for another way. But I didn't get here alone.

My dad gave space for questions, in fact he often demanded critical reflection on anything we engaged with and Scripture was no exception. While I may have grown up in a conservative family, attending Awana, being home schooled, and living in the middle of nowhere - the eccentricities of my family gave space for many interpretations.

Moving helped as well. Encountering diverse people throughout my childhood, demanded a common ground mentality and the space for ecumenical work that my 10 year old started to operate in. 

In college, I had professors who believed different things. Very conservative, committed liberal, strong Feminist, passionate reformer, missionaries, pastors, - these people shared with me their life and their ways of engaging with God.

In grad school I finally found my language. Theology gave me grounding for the ways I saw the world. Challenged to engage with doctrine in robust and holistic ways, learning the ways other branches of the Christian faith interacted with Scripture and the Triune God - I was stretched but I was also at home.

When Cheryl Bridges Johns, touched my arm the night of the Pentecostal Theological Seminary Christmas dinner, she looked me in the eye and said, "you are a part of us" - I began the journey of interpretation within community. All of a sudden I was known and beheld, invited into a system I had often felt only halfway a part of. Reading the Word within a community, especially a diverse community of various ethnic, education, tradition, and socioeconomic backgrounds meant being challenged to read in more faithful ways. My patterns and habits may not fit, they may even silence others voices and so it was many years of learning how to live out the new ways I was interacting with Scripture and God.

But our pastors made that space, they worked hard to cultivate a place to wrestle and rest, to know and doubt. When Cheryl spoke of Scripture it a wild and dangerous book, one we should engage with curiosity and even a little trepidation. Jackie would invite us to hear the constancy of the faith, the long roads others had walked here with us, and to remind us to go back go where God had been before if we ever felt like we lost him

Like all people they are imperfect and so was our church. But it was beautiful. I may not have recognized it then, but New Covenant would hold me steady through tumultuous seasons. 

I don't read Matthew 3 as God saying through John that those who do not produce fruit will be thrown into a fire. I read it and hear a man who was an outsider, likely rejected for his eccentric ways, but then when he got popular those who are the haves wanted what he - as a had not - had. He spoke with righteous anger. Wary be those who repent simply because it's popular. Don't you dare just come so you can say you did and then continue on in your selfish, holier than thou ways. It is a judgment you take upon yourself when you come only for show. John was personal and prophetic when he spoke, but I don't believe he was prescriptive. Does that change the weightiness of John's words? No. Does it shift the focus? Perhaps. If you are operating out of a fear of judgment then the interpretation lies heavily on John's ending words. But if the weight doesn't land there, perhaps we can focus more on John's caution to the Pharisees that "they must bear fruit of repentance"?

I want to be an invitation to engage and wrestle. I want to be a safe space to work through hard things. Thanks for joining me here.

Grace and peace. 

Ohana

It's silly I know.
But I am sad for me,
and excited for you.
I knew life would keep on moving,
but I guess in the busy I assumed we stay.

Here you are going,
to another city, another dream,
exploring all the world can be.

Here I am staying,
wishing I could hold the time,
wondering why goodbyes happen at all.

I know it's silly.
Because I never expected us to stay,
We'd explore the world,
attempting our dreams,
Embracing the successes and the failures.
Somehow in the midst of waiting,
I thought we would just be together.

Busyness stole the hours,
Priorities shifting,
and new roles replacing the old.
I never realized how much I'd miss you.

I'm not ready to let go,
of that glimmer of what I always wanted,
but never could articulate.
I guess it's better to love,
to desire, to want,
than to hate, or never care at all.

It's silly, but that's okay.
Things are changing,
and we will never be the same.
Yet the excitement will roll,
and our dreams will unfold.
Until next time my sisters, my brothers, my dearest friends.

I love you.

When Mercies Are New

Today I feel overwhelmed. My body is fighting within me. My mind is unable to concentrate or connect things. I seriously feel like I can not do everything but there is nothing I can drop....... It feels a little like drowning slowly - your brain says don't panic because otherwise you will drown but your body is saying I am taking in water and I am going to die.

God, it feels trivial to ask
I don't trust that you care
There is something wrong with my approach
Trying to live this faith on my own
I'm not altogether different than my friend
Whose faith is in herself
Selah
Hold me fast Oh Lord
In the midst of my iniquity, speak
As a drown because of my own devices
Do not turn your face from me
You do not abandon but God do you fix?
When it seems I am failing
and it is all my fault, do You come and make new?

But is that not every sin?
Is not every failure a making of yours or another?
Will I not arise to your side in the darkest of trenches?
Even as you are in a sea of your own misery, I AM.
My mercy is new every morning.