The Grace of Seasons…

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church, faith, God, grief, journey, joy, life, naming, prayer, scripture, season, stability, thanks

Photo credit: Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly. Reuse with permission.

I have been working on some continuing education classes for about a year and a half.  I just had a three week break and during that time was able to quickly read three fluffy novels.  The funny thing is, during that same time, I kept watching friends talk about the most recent book they were reading and feeling jealous, thinking, “I never have time to read!”  But I realized during this break between semesters that I will eventually have time and I do still love to read; this is just a season of life when my reading is a little limited to the academic variety. 

That realization got me thinking about seasons of life.  I remember a season with newborns when I did a ton of reading because I was hooked up to a breast pump for about 2 hours a day.  I remember a season before COVID when I traveled distances for meetings and was able to catch up on podcasts and phone calls, feeling more knowledgeable and caught up on the day’s news.  I remember multiple seasons of parenthood when I thought I would never survive something, only to look fondly upon that season later. 

Our faith journey can be a lot like that too.  We all have seasons – seasons when we feel a bit too busy for regular church attendance (thank goodness for those recorded livestreams!); seasons when everything is clicking and some piece of scripture we read totally connects with something happening in our life; and seasons when we are too angry, sad, or unsure to even engage God in prayer.  The nice thing is when we can recognize that we are in a season, we can remember the hard stuff will not last forever, and good stuff will change and shift into new and different good stuff. 

I do not know what kind of season you are in right now.  Maybe you are in a season of grief, of feeling a lack of control, or in a rut of what feels like failures.  Maybe you are in a season of new life, of exciting possibilities, of new opportunities.  Maybe you are in a season of stability and are hoping nothing rocks the boat.  I invite you to talk about that season with God.  Whether you need to curse the season, give thanks for the season, or plead for a new season, somehow just naming the experience of the season is enough to lift its power and help you see grace in it.  That is my prayer for you today.

How long, O LORD?

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change, children, common ground, God, gun violence, massive shooting, nothing, prayer, shooting, together

Photo credit: https://www.kcrg.com/2021/11/08/prayer-vigil-planned-fairfield-high-school-spanish-teacher-found-dead/

Early this morning, I put my middle schooler on a bus.  She still lets me take her to the bus stop (as long as I stay in the car).  Everyday I pray as the 20 kids board the bus that they will be kind to one another and to themselves.  They are long-time experts in active shooter drills.  We acknowledge them, but I tend to minimize them because their normalcy breaks my heart. 

Later this morning, I put my second grader on a bus.  We still hold hands on the walk to the stop, she still plays with her classmates once we arrive.  Almost 30 kids board the bus everyday – from tiny kindergarteners to lanky fifth graders.  She is becoming an expert in active shooter drills too.  But because she is the age of some children who were shot to death yesterday in Texas, I couldn’t help calculating that the number of kids who didn’t come home last night in Uvalde was about 2/3 of the children on our bus.  I kept thinking about how sad my second grader is for school to be ending soon because she loves her teacher so much – and how traumatized my daughter would be if her teacher had died shielding my daughter and her classmates.  The more I picture standing outside that school waiting for news of my child’s fate, the closer I feel to crumbling in sobs of grief.

Yesterday, I did what we always do after a tragedy.  I quoted scripture on social media in the wake of the news.  “How long, O LORD, must I call for help? But you do not listen!  ‘Violence is everywhere!’ I cry, but you do not come to save.” (Habakkuk 1.2)  This morning as the bus pulled away, those words echoed in my ears, “How long, O LORD?” 

The response from God was stark, “I don’t know.  You tell me!”  I cried out to God yesterday and this morning for help to end this awful system of violence. In response, God reminded me I am God’s feet and hands in this world.  If I want the violence to stop, I can and should certainly pray.  But my prayer must in part be a prayer to summon political courage to actually do something.  And not just for me, but for all of us – those who would have us get rid of every gun in this country and those who would fight to the death for their guns – and everyone in between.  This problem is for all of us.  We are all to blame for massive shootings.  How?  Because in doing nothing, in finding no common ground at all, we are simply praying until the next massive shooting happens.  Whether you need to imagine your own children or your own childhood teacher in the faces of those who have died, allow the utter sorrow and pain to pierce your soul today so that tomorrow you do something – anything – to make a change.  And if you really want to make an impact, find someone whose opinion on gun control is different from yours and start talking about what you can do together to make a change.  That’s my prayer for us today.  That we start answering the question, “How long?” with “I change it today with you.”

On Pandemics, Rollercoasters, and God…

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compassion, coping, emotions, God, pandemic, presence, productive, rollercoaster, tender, thrive

Photo credit: https://theinconstantmuse.com/2016/07/27/rollercoaster-ride/

One of the habits this pandemic has cultivated is thriving in survivalist mode:  dealing with the thing in front of you, then moving to the next, until all the “things” are done.  This requires shelving one’s emotions for another time because they get in the way of what needs to be done.  This kind of operating can be intoxicating because there is a rush that comes from accomplishing things when times are hard – acknowledging that despite how hard things are, you are still being productive and useful.  It can be a useful skill, but a habit that cannot be sustained long-term.

Nowhere have I felt that reality more than in this last week.  In the course of one single week I conducted a funeral for a one-month old infant, I joyfully celebrated the baptism of two life-giving children (one infant and one preschooler), I received the shocking news that my beloved barre and yoga studio would be closing in 24 hours (a place that has been a source of joy, friendship, and health for five years), our family entered into quarantine as we finally succumbed to COVID (we’re all fully vaccinated and boosted), which involved postponing countless major and minor events at church, and finally, learned that a dear friend who is younger than we are was gravely ill from long COVID.  It was not until the end of the week, when COVID finally slowed me down that I realized what a rollercoaster of a week it had been emotionally.

Truth be told, the life of a pastor is regularly a rollercoaster like this.  I frequently have back-to-back meetings:  one for a couple preparing for marriage and one for someone facing divorce.  I can have back-to-back visits:  one for a family with a newborn and one for someone on Hospice.  Even Holy Week has Good Friday and Easter Sunday within days of each other.  Emotional whiplash is a regular occurrence in this field.  But in some ways, the disadvantage of this pandemic is that we all seem to be living in a constant emotional rollercoaster.  You may have read my litany of the last week and thought, “Seems like a typical week in COVID!” 

My prayer for all of us during this rollercoaster of a time is that we be tender with one another.  When we hear good or hard news, remember there are a lot of other things going on in the background – family who cannot be there, conflict among neighbors, or even happy news that seems inappropriately timed.  But especially remember to be tender with yourself.  If you need to congratulate yourself for just surviving and being productive, do it.  If you need to wallow or cry, do it.  And in case you cannot feel it or have lost touch with your relationship with God, remember God is with you in the midst of it all, being more tender with us than we could ever be to ourselves or others.  My prayer is that you feel God’s presence this week.

On Feeling the Love…

Tags

affirming, baptism, God, I love you, intentional, intimate, Jesus, love, relationship, vulnerable

Photo credit: https://www.irishtimes.com/life-and-style/people/valentine-s-day-the-politics-of-saying-i-love-you-1.3777525

I grew up in a loving household, so I am not really sure where I picked up this particular sentiment.  But for as long as I can remember, I have not really been comfortable saying the words “I love you,” to just anybody.  I would sign cards, “Love,” or “Much Love,” or maybe throw around the casual, “Love ya!”  But somehow those three words seemed big and perhaps reserved only very special people.  There is an intentionality in those three words that made me feel uncomfortable or even too vulnerable.  As someone who can be a little emotionally guarded because of my profession, those three words evoke an intimacy that sends off warning bells.  And I am not sure I am alone in this sentiment.  There was even a movie called, I Love You, Man!  As if adding the word “man” qualifies the three words enough to not make them too intimate. 

But in the last couple of years, and certainly during this pandemic, this sentiment has started to shift.  I found after a long, hard phone call, where a friend and I bore our souls about how hard this pandemic has been, the words just came out of my mouth.  My immediate instinct was a little panic about how vulnerable those words felt.  But when the friend said the words back, a shift began.  The lesson was reiterated in a pastoral visit with an aging parishioner who was approaching the end of life.  After a long talk, I allowed the three words to escape my mouth again.  The returning “I love you too,” made me realize skirting around the words, “I love you,” has been an unnecessary, and perhaps false, act of denying the truth of our relationships.  No matter how much I try to protect myself, the very act of being a pastor means entering into, and sometimes offering one-sided, relationships of love.  The acts of Jesus were often shocking because he vulnerably offered love to all.

This Sunday, we will celebrate two baptisms at church.  It will be a day full of love, even in these restricted times when most of our parishioners will have to join online.  But as I prepare for Sunday, I am especially struck by our lesson from Isaiah,[i] which offers words of consolation to a suffering people.  In verse four, God says to God’s people, “…you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.” We have lots of images of God rolling around in our minds and hearts, but these are some of the most intimate, affirming ones I have read of late.  And I really needed to hear them.  Perhaps you need them today too.  If so, they are my gift to you.  And if you need to hear them aloud, join us on Sunday for online worship.  There will be plenty of love to go around!

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[i] Isaiah 43.1-7

On Merry, Messy Christmases…

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abundance, blessing, Christmas, horrible, Jesus, joyful, juxtaposition, merry, messy, perfect

Photo credit: https://myharvestchurch.ca/messy-christmas/

Christmas as a pastor is not really like Christmas for most people.  Just ask any preacher’s kid.  While their peers are taking long road trips, fun vacations, or at least doing fun activities like making gingerbread houses, going to the movies, or baking cookies, the fun in a pastor’s home does not really begin in earnest until all the church services are done – and after a requisite nap for said pastor. 

But that is just surface stuff.  The harder part for clergy is holding in tension the reality of Christmas.  The secular world would have you believe Christmas means perfectly decorated trees stuffed with tons of perfect presents, hearths dressed in elaborate greenery, family traditions that always bring joy, and gatherings around meals with people who are happy to be together. 

But clergy are the ones who hear throughout Advent about those dealing with health crises, those struggling with the pending death of a loved one, those whose marriages are crumbling, those struggling to make ends meet, and those who are in the fog of depression and anxiety.  Clergy are also the ones who celebrate weddings, the births of babies, the good grade on an exam, the new relationships or reconciled family member, and the unbounded joy of a child waiting to open gifts.  The juxtaposition of the messy, horribleness of life and the joyful, abundance of life is never sharper than at Christmas – where societal and personal expectations are high, and where reality never reaches perfection. 

The irony, though, is that the actual Christmas story is just about that – a juxtaposition of messy horribleness and joyful abundance:  where governments are oppressing the poor financially, where pregnancies are scandalous, where birthing rooms are inadequate; all while the poor receive good news, where the lowly birth the mighty, and where community and goodness is shared among strangers.  This year, still slogging through a long season of pandemic and political strife, I pray that you might see the Christmas story clear-eyed – taking off the rose-colored glasses, and seeing with fresh eyes the messy, ugly, beautiful story of Christmas.  Christmas blessings my friends!  I see you, I love you, and more importantly, so does Jesus.

On Solitude, Gratitude, and Advent…

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Advent, alone, gratitude, hope, hushed, love, meditate, quiet, scarcity, solitude, Thanksgiving, tradition, uncertainty

Photo credit: https://www.horizonviewhealth.com/favorite-autumn-walks/

This Thanksgiving was a bit different for us.  Instead of making a drive, or having family come to us, the four of us had a quiet day punctuated by a traditional meal on the family China.  When I kept referring to Thanksgiving Dinner, even my children protested, “What’s the big deal – it’s just lunch!”  As an extrovert who has spent a lot of the last almost two years with these three other people, I felt a sense of absence for all the people with whom I have enjoyed this traditional day.  But as I watched my beloved introvert revel in the quiet, I began to see a peace among these four people who have come to deepen our trust and love for one another during this pandemic (even if that love is sometimes expressed in short tempers and bickering). 

I suspect we were not alone in our “new normal” Thanksgiving.  Many people from our church community had similar arrangements – couples who stayed home, four neighbors who came together in their “aloneness,” singletons who found joy over Zoom calls.  Even those who gathered in smaller groups commented on the quietness of the day – and a kind of gratitude that can only come from scarcity – scarcity of community, of gathering, of all things normal. 

For me, it was the perfect way to segue into Advent, a similar season of hushed quietness.  As the world whirls around us, we pull back, quietly preparing our homes, knowing the uncertainty of these times, and being grateful for every moment of comfort in this season of waiting.  That’s why I enjoy the Advent practice called “AdventWord.” – a visual way to meditate on a daily word throughout Advent.  It gives me a chance to scroll back through old pictures or turn my gaze to the world around me and snap something anew.  It is a solo, quiet practice that stirs creativity, gratitude, and hope.

What are you doing this Advent to set time apart?  How are you struggling to set time apart?  Maybe you can only find literal moments of peace.  Maybe you can squeeze out a half hour a day.  Maybe you can daily confess your desire for such a practice to the God who sees you in all your commitments.  Whatever you do this Advent, know that you have the support and love of a community who sees you too, and holds on to a desire for peace and comfort for you in this season.

On Shielding and Sharing Joy…

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complain, compline, God, goodness, grateful, gratitude, imperfection, joy, joyous, perfection, prayer, shield, Thanksgiving

Photo credit: https://www.facebook.com/episcopalian/photos/keep-watch-dear-lord-with-those-who-work-or-watch-or-weep-this-night-and-give-yo/10155444636122925/

This month at Youth Group, before we began our closing prayer, the leader asked us each to name one good thing that had happened in the last week.  Immediately, the brows of each person in the room (adults included) furrowed as we tried to think back about something good in a sea of busyness.  Some of us struggled to remember anything good.  Others immediately burst forth with a fun thing they had gotten to do.  Some shyly shared an accomplishment for which they were proud.  And some were more abstract, like the beauty of the fall foliage.

I was struck by how each one of us in the room had to think quite hard about something good happening in our lives. I do not think we struggled because there is nothing good.  I think we struggled because our brains, or maybe our culture, has wired us to do the opposite – to complain about all the things going wrong, to see only the imperfections in life or in ourselves, to be discouraged by all that could be better in our circles.  A heart of gratitude or joy takes work.  Some of us come by gratitude and joy naturally, but most of us have been enculturated to see where there is want.  That’s why one of our favorite prayers from Compline has a line in its petitions to God for God to “shield the joyous.”[i] 

As we approach Thanksgiving Day next week, I wonder if this year you are still struggling to find the joy.  Maybe you still cannot gather safely with family, maybe you are worried about the safety of the children or the vulnerable in your family, or maybe you are just weary from this time of pandemic.  I suspect many of us are feeling critical of the imperfect and are having a hard time holding on to the perfect(ly good enough). 

My prayer for you this week is that God shields your joy.  But I invite you to consider partnering with God in this endeavor.  Each day until Thanksgiving Day, before you drift off to sleep, think back to one thing for which you grateful, that gave you joy, or was just a good moment.  The goodness does not have to be big or creative.  Start with something basic.  While you engage in this prayerful practice, I will be praying that God shields your joy, and I hope you will share your joy with someone else – so they can be shielded by God too. 

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[i] Book of Common Prayer, 134.

On Redefining Sacraments…

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coffee, Coffee Hour, gift, God, grace, sacrament, sign, spiritual

Photo credit: https://jacklondonoakland.org/new-events/virtual-coffee-hour-september-2020

This past Sunday was a day of celebration at Hickory Neck.  The bishop confirmed, received, and reaffirmed 16 parishioners, gave out blessings at our Drive-Thru Coffee Hour, and even celebrated Eucharist in our Historic Chapel.  It was a day of delight and joy and brought so many people together – both online and in person. 

But one of the things we tried for the first time since the pandemic was a “mini Coffee Hour”  We could not get past the idea of a celebration like this without a cake, so we safely served up cake and put coffee in safe, disposable containers, and we ate outside in a way that we have not done in ages.  It was a small thing in a lot of ways – something we have done thousands of times before the pandemic.  But it was anything but small.  As the organizer teared up talking about having Coffee Hour that day, I knew there was something much deeper happening.

Some people have joked that Coffee Hour is the eighth sacrament of the Episcopal Church.  I always scoffed at that idea, thinking it was much too disrespectful of the sacraments.  But in having Coffee Hour taken away during the pandemic and experiencing it again for the first time in 19 months, I now realize the truth hidden in those forced laughs about Coffee Hour’s sacramental status.  We are told in the Catechism that a sacrament is an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace, given by Christ as a sure and certain means by which we receive that grace.  Now I am not arguing that Jesus gives us coffee, but the cup of coffee one receives at Coffee Hour may in fact be that outward and visible sign of the grace of Coffee Hour – where sacred hospitality is offered, intimate Christ-like friendships are nurtured, and forgiveness, pastoral care, and sharing in mutual joy happens. 

I would not wish this pandemic on anyone.  But I am grateful for the fasting that it created which enabled me to see the fullness of holiness that happens in church:  in the pews, at the altar rail, and yes, at the coffee pot.  My hope is that we as a church figure out ways to offer those unauthorized sacraments in new and fresh ways as we continue to recover from this pandemic and live into community in restricted ways.  I wonder what ways we will be overwhelmed by God’s grace in these in-between times.

On the Power of Every Perfect Gift…

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blessing, church, every perfect gift, gift, giving, God, gratitude, stewardship, talent, team, time, treasure

Photo credit: https://www.tens.org/

Ministry is a funny endeavor because you can have a to-do list planned for any given day, but between drop-ins, unexpected calls, or pastoral events, your to-do list gets completely set aside.  Yesterday I had one of those days where I left the office thinking, “Man!  I only got a couple of things done today!  I’m so frustrated!”  But then I remembered that even though I personally only got a couple of things done, my staff picked up a lot of the floating to-do items and together, we actually got a lot of things done.  Suddenly a seemingly wasted day felt like a day of accomplishment.

The last two years have been years of transition for our staff.  A full-time priest left the staff right as COVID hit and was not replaced.  This past summer, we had an administrative staffing gap.  Suddenly, if things were getting done, they really were dependent upon my personally accomplishing them – which is never a sustainable model.  It was not until yesterday that a wave of gratitude overwhelmed me as I realized how much can be achieved when you are a part of team.

This week, we will kick off our stewardship season at Hickory Neck Episcopal Church, whose theme is Every Perfect Gift.  My experience this week made me remember how even our giving to church is a team effort.  We work hard to do our part – giving a tithe or other generous financial gift, our time, and our talent.  But our part does not sustain the work of ministry.  In order to reflect the fullness of the body of Christ, each of us needs to give Every Perfect Gift – those parts that make the whole better. 

As you think about your giving to the church, maybe your finances are making it such that you cannot give as much as you would like.  Or maybe you are giving in earnest, but feel like you are pulling more weight than others.  Or maybe you are taking a hard look at your budget and time and are considering how you can do more this year.  Just remember two things:  1) your gift is perfect and is a reflection of your gratitude to God for your many blessings – making your giving sacred; and 2) you are a part of a community where everyone does their part – where we all make an impact on our community because when we all share our every perfect gift, our collective effort is stunning.  You are in my prayers this year as you consider how you might share your perfect gifts with Hickory Neck!

On Clearing the Way…

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absence, clearing, desk, essential, God, luxury, necessity, organization, pandemic, purging, putting off, relationship, sacred, stacks

Photo credit: https://stock.adobe.com/search?k=stack%20of%20paper%20on%20desk

Last week, I finally took on the task of clearing my desk.  In general, I am a “stacks” kind of person when it comes to organization.  I stack papers on my desk when I am done with them.  The stacks can get quite large, but I also know enough about the stacks that I can find papers if I need them.  Eventually, when the stacks get a little too big, I take a day and go through the whole assortment of stacks, tossing things or filing them when necessary.  But even though I love the satisfaction of the clean desk, the stack method is never really eliminated.

My periodic purging of the stacks normally works fine.  But when you’ve been through eighteen months of a pandemic and were super busy before the pandemic hit, let’s just say my stacks had gotten taller than my head when I was seated at my desk.  Because I had precious little time in the office in the last eighteen months, giving up a whole day or at least half a day purging seemed like a luxury I could not afford.  And so, week after week, I would promise myself, “Maybe next week…”

Sometimes, I think our relationship with God is a lot like that – especially during this pandemic.  Maybe we have prayer books we like, devotionals on our nightstand, or even a little prayer station at home with items like prayer beads or inspirational photos or trinkets.  But the survival patterns we have developed during this pandemic have meant the normal things that helped us feel close to God – the physical things or even the people from church we have not seen in eighteen months – have been absent for too long.  Maybe we have even made those same promises to ourselves, “Maybe next week…”

I wonder what that “thing” is for you:  What have you been putting off during this pandemic because you could not let it be a priority like it once was?  Maybe it has been taking care of yourself physically or emotionally, maybe it has been caring for others in ways that bring you joy, or maybe it has been connecting to a church community.  Whatever the “thing” is for you, maybe this week is the week when you take a deep breath, drop the things that have seemed essential until now, and give yourself a moment to take care of yourself – in ways that maybe seem luxurious, but in the end, might just be sacred necessities.