On the Awkward and the Sacred…

Tags

awkward, church, creative, gratitude, Holy Spirit, human, new, open, pandemic, sacred, tradition, virtual, worship, Zoom

Phot Credit: Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly; permission to reuse required

One of the disadvantages of leading virtual worship is that you do not get to participate in worship.  Of course, I can always go back and watch later, but I never get the “live” experience of watching prayers.  That all changed this week.  My seminary held their annual Convocation yesterday.  It was entirely virtual, with webinars, Zoom meetings, breakout rooms, and Zoom worship.  Our worship at Hickory Neck Church is via Facebook Live, so this was my first time worshiping with a community via Zoom, and I was curious to see how it would feel.

My initial response was dissatisfaction.  Although I could see there were about 50 people gathered, once slides were used on the shared screen, I could only see six people without constantly scrolling.  Although the sermon was close to my normal experiences with preaching, watching faces that seemed spaced out was a bit odd (Do the faces look that spaced out when I preach??).  And of course, when I joined in speaking the italicized words (those words “the people” are supposed to say), because we were all on mute, I felt like only the officiant and I were participating.

But that was just the initial reaction.  As I said more and more of the unison readings, I felt less and less awkward.  And even though I could only see a few faces, I loved knowing I was not alone in the worship experience.  And as I became less paranoid about what my own video screen was showing, I was able to relax into my chair, and transport myself to an imaginary pew.  The worship experience was not the same – but it was also familiar, human, holy, and lovely.

Looking back on that experience, I want to offer major kudos to all who are “making it work” with virtual church.  I know it is not the same.  I know it is hard staying positive when all you want is something more familiar.  I am so grateful for all of you who are sticking with it, making the awkward become sacred.  I hope that you are having moments of grace and blessing.  And I also hope you are noticing all the names (and faces if you’re Zooming) you do not recognize:  those folks who find it harder to harken the doors of the church than to hop on Facebook for worship – whether when you are live, or at 10:00 pm, as you watch the archived video while you ease off to sleep.   This may not be church as we have always known it.  But we are also fashioning something new, flexible, and creative, while rooting ourselves in the traditions we know and love that ground us.  This week, you have my gratitude for all the ways you are staying open to the Holy Spirit.  And if you have not found a place to experience the Spirit, I’ve got just the place for you!!

Sermon – Luke 2.1-20, CD, YA, December 25, 2019

Tags

amazing, Christ Child, Christmas, Christmas Eve, church, glorify, God, love, new, noise, praise, quiet, Sermon, silence, Silent Night, story

This past year I have been learning a lot about Godly Play, the program we use with our smallest children in Sunday School, and more recently, the program we use with the Kensington School too.  At first blush, the program is pretty simple:  we tell Bible stories, using simple props to engage the children visually, we let the children play with the story, and then we wonder about the story along the way.  But when we are telling the story with the Kensington School, we have about fifteen kids, ages two-and-a-half to five years old.  I do not know how much time you have spent with that age group recently, but what that means is working super hard to hold their attention.  Being the loud extrovert that I am, I assumed holding their attention would mean using a loud, commanding voice.  But I have discovered from our seasoned teachers that the opposite is true.  They lower their voices to a slow-paced, almost whisper, and they manage to keep the children on the edges of their seats – as if something amazing is going to happen if they listen really hard.

Oftentimes, when we think of Christmas, we imagine a similar pattern.  When we gather on Christmas Eve, we look forward to savoring the familiar story, imagining being able to hear a pin drop as the beloved story is told again.  Our favorite song on Christmas Eve is usually Silent Night.  The song lulls us to imagining Mary and Joseph blissfully enjoying a silent night of wonder.  But that holy night, and most Christmas Eve services, are anything but quiet.  Bethlehem is inundated with people coming in for the registration.  The fact that there is no room for Joseph and Mary tells us how crowded Bethlehem is.  But Mary and Joseph not only have to tend with homecoming revelers, they also have to contend with the animals over whose abode they have taken.  Add into the mix a screaming newborn, and the idea of a silent night is almost comical.

But Mary and Joseph get even more noise than that.  You see, nearby shepherds hear a cacophony of praise from the heavenly hosts in the middle of the night.  Their night has been anything but quiet too.  Instead of trying to get the animals and themselves back to sleep, they decide to go into town and see this thing which has come to pass.  And so, they spend the night, talking to Mary and Joseph, maybe taking turns trying to soothe the baby Jesus.  When they leave those rudimentary quarters, they leave town praising and glorifying God.  This is no silent night for the shepherds either.

I think that is why I enjoy our celebration on Christmas Day so much.  Silence is in short supply on Christmas Eve.  We sing carols, we hear the giddy laughter of children awaiting gifts, stockings, and cookies, and we chant the mass, singing our traditionally spoken words.  For those of us with small children, even the wee hours of the morning on Christmas Day are loud – filled with cries of elation, joy, and battery-operated toys.  But on Christmas Day, after a noisy night and morning, we make our way to church and find, perhaps for the first time, the silence for which we have been looking.  We do not sing carols.  We do not have to speak over the hubbub of full pews.  Instead we gather in relative quiet, and tell the old story again – but this time with a softness that cannot be found on Christmas Eve.

What I love about finding true silence on Christmas Day is that our morning is structured a lot like I imagine that first holy morning being structured.  Christmas Eve is full of noise – of animals, shepherds, angels, and crying babies.  But that next morning, the dust has settled.  Gone are the shepherds and angels.  The animals have calmed down after too many midnight guests.  I even imagine baby Jesus has given in to sleep, since most newborns get their nights and days reversed for the first few weeks.  Into this relative quiet is when I imagine Mary treasuring all those words and pondering them in her heart.  The night before is just too loud.  The exhausted, travel-weary, physically and emotionally spent Mary gets a moment in the morning to begin to process what God has done in and through her.  After the break of dawn, as the sun rises and the loud revelers and news deliverers have gone, she can have a quiet moment as she rocks or feeds baby Jesus and ponder in her heart this child at her breast.

I do not think that night is silent.  But I understand why our hymnodists would want to talk about silence.  I think that is why I prefer the hymn, “Let all mortal flesh keep silence.”  Instead of depicting a silent night, that hymn invites us to keep silence as a form of reverence.  The first verse says, “Let all mortal flesh keep silence, and with fear and trembling stand; ponder nothing earthly minded, for with blessing in his hand, Christ our God to earth descendeth, our full homage to demand.”  I like the hymn because that is the kind of pondering I imagine Mary does in her heart this morning.  Unlike most new mothers, I do not think she is worried about the impact of birth on her body or even about her humble surroundings.  I imagine her thoughts that morning are consumed with nothing earthly minded.  Instead, I imagine her heart is pondering the blessing of Christ our God descending on earth through her – and the enormity of the event drives her to pay silent homage as she gazes on Jesus’ precious face.

That is what the church invites us to do today as well.  We structure a morning for worship.  The dust of gift wrap, eggnog, and stocking stuffers is settling.  The noise of carols, singing choirs and priests, and antsy children in pews is fading.  The anxiety of preparing for the big event of this day is easing.  And all that is left is a moment to let our mortal flesh keep silent before the Christ Child.  This morning we take a moment to ponder nothing earthly minded, and instead join Mary as she ponders all that has happened in her heart.  We come to church on this holy morning to ponder the miracle of the Christ Child.  We honor the way in which God is ever trying to honor the covenant God has made with us – willing to go to the extreme of taking on human form to care for and preserve us.  Our God’s love knows no bounds.  Humbled by that knowledge, we come to pay God homage.

The question for us in our pondering is what we will do with that love.  Though we make space this morning for silence, we do not remain here all day.  Like any other Sunday, the clergy will dismiss us to go in peace, and serve the Lord.  Anytime we feast at Christ’s table, that is our charge:  to take whatever sustenance we have gained and to go out into the world to do the work that Christ has given us to do.  Certainly that may involve cooking, travel, or more gift giving.  But the news we ponder in our hearts today is much bigger than today.  Today we are commissioned to consider the impact of the birth of the Christ Child on our lives, what our response will be to the God who is so faithful to God’s covenant with us that God would take on human flesh to redeem us.  As our talented Godly Play teachers might pose, I wonder what new work God is crafting in our hearts.  Perhaps this morning, or for at least the next few minutes, you can let your mortal flesh keep silence and ponder with Mary.  And then go out with the shepherds, glorifying and praising God in your work.  Amen.

 

On Gifts and Giving…

Tags

challenge, Christ, church, encounter, gifts, God, Holy Spirit, listen, ministry, new, passion, talent, time, volunteer

Photo credit:  https://www.plitvice-etnogarden.com/team-building/

As every year of ordained ministry passes, I become more grateful for my work before ordination.  For about six years, I was the Director of Volunteer Services for a Habitat for Humanity affiliate in Delaware.  Coordinating over 2000 volunteers a year, a major part of my job was helping people find just the right volunteer position based on their gifts.  Most volunteers that came my way expected that volunteering at Habitat meant wielding a hammer.  And sometimes that was true.  But sometimes you were hanging drywall, or painting, or putting down flooring.  Sometimes you weren’t doing construction work at all.  Volunteers were needed in the office, partnering with families as they worked on their sweat equity hours and financial training classes, helping raise funds, and serving on the Board.  Sometimes the gifts of a person were a perfect match for what we needed, and sometimes volunteers wanted to try something totally out of their comfort zone.  Figuring that out took time, listening, and a little bit of experimenting.

The same is true in churches.  We all come to church with many gifts, and sometimes those gifts are just what is needed:  the elementary music teacher who takes on the pageant, the architect who takes on property management, the financial planner who serves on the endowment board.  But sometimes, church is where we want to find and use other gifts:  the engineer who is also great relating with kids, the military officer who is also great with technology, or the construction worker who is a fantastic listener and discernment partner.  And sometimes, the things we think we would never be able to do we discover we can do through service at church.

This week at Hickory Neck, we are spending some time discerning our gifts and how we might use them to build up the church.  For some, this is a time to renew our passion for a current ministry we serve, and rededicate ourselves to making that ministry more powerful.  For others, we need a break from serving in one capacity, and want to try something new.  For others, we have yet to commit to serving the church and are nervous to step forward.  What the church reminds us during this time of connection is each of us has gifts, and the church is better when we gift those talents and our time to the church.  The church knows that when we give of that time and talent, we get so much more back.  We learn, we grow, we make new friends, and we come closer to God.  Whether it’s picking up sticks on a cleanup day, making meals for the homebound or new parents, or editing a newsletter, in those activities we have holy encounters with Christ.

I cannot wait to hear how you will give of yourself this year at Hickory Neck.  I cannot wait to hear how you are challenging yourself, and listening to the whisper of the Holy Spirit.  I cannot wait to hear in the coming year the ways in which you bump into God, even in the most unlikely places.  When each of us tends to our gifts and our journey at Hickory Neck, the community as a whole benefits.  We all get a bit closer to God when we simply show up and use our gifts.  I look forward to hearing about your journey in time and talent this year!

Sermon – Daniel 3:14-20,24-28, John 8:31–42, Ecumenical Eucharist, March 21, 2018

Tags

Abednego, call, companions, discerning, ecumencial, faithful, God, Holy Spirit, Jesus, Meshack, new, Shadrach, trust

This sermon was preached at Our Saviour Lutheran Church in Norge, Virginia.  Each week in Lent, one of the churches from the Upper James City County Ministerium hosts a worship service and welcomes a guest preacher from another church.  It has been a wonderful experience in the exchange of worship, and has made all our church members feel more connected with the community.  

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One of my favorite gospel songs is a song called, Jesus Can Work It Out.  There are lots of versions of the song, but the basic tenet of the song is that whenever you have a problem that you cannot seem to solve, you can give the problem over to the Lord and the Lord will work the problem out.  In the version of the song in my iTunes, the lead singer talks about a variety of problems that she has had over her life that, as soon as she gave them over to the Lord, God worked the problems out.  In one example she talks about how she and the choir went on tour and when she came back home, she had a foreclosure notice.  Overcome with grief, she says she turned the situation over to the Lord and the Lord worked it out.

Now I love this song – mostly because not only does the song encourage me to trust God, but also because the song has a way of getting your toes tapping.  But every time I hear the part about the foreclosure, I cannot help thinking, “I mean, I get trusting the Lord, but I am pretty sure you knew you had not paid the mortgage before you decided to go on tour.  I mean there is trust and there is TRUST.”

That is what I think is so interesting about our two readings today.  They represent two different extremes when we talk about the role of trust in our relationship with God.  The first is the vivid and dramatic story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.  King Nebuchadnezzar has captured the three men and insists they worship his gods and his statue or face a fiery death.  When the three men refuse, the king has them thrown into the furnace, turned up seven times as high as normal.  But much to the king’s surprise, not only do the men survive, they seem to be dancing around in the flames with Yahweh.  When the men come out untouched by the flames, not even smelling of smoke, King Nebuchadnezzar concedes and decides to worship their God instead of his gods. This fantastic story is a story of how, even in the face of persecution and death, faithfulness, trust, and loyalty to our God will make you victorious, even in impossible situations.

Meanwhile, in our gospel text, the faithful are equally trusting of God, but in this instance, their trust and confidence is ill-placed.  You see, Jesus has gathered people who are following him and begins to talk about who he is in relation to God.  When Jesus starts talking about to whom the people belong, and that God is doing a new thing in Jesus Christ, the followers become obstinate.  “We are descendants of Abraham…Abraham is our father,” they protest  What is funny about this exchange between Jesus and the faithful is that on the surface, the faithful are doing the same thing Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego do.  They are staying true to their God, despite the fact that this new teacher and prophet is asking them to see something new in what God is doing.  But in their case, we can see that Jesus does not see their faithfulness and trust as a virtue, but instead a hinderance to seeing the work of the Holy Spirit in something new.  Unlike Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego’s story, this story seems to be about how we should hold tightly to what God has taught us, but not so tightly that we lose touch with when God is doing a new thing.  We are to be loyal and trusting, but also discerning and open.

I do not know about you, but I find myself lost in these lessons.  When am I supposed to be so faithful that I am willing to face death (or foreclosure on my mortgage), and when am I supposed to be so faithful that I am willing to abandon what I know about my God and my identity to follow a new way?  When I was figuring out my vocation as a priest, I struggled.  The first step was getting over the hurdle of saying yes to a call to ordained ministry at all.  You see, my dad was a United Methodist minister, and I had sworn that I would never go into the ministry.  But once I finally was able to say yes, then came the hard part.  You see, I was called in the context of the Episcopal Church.  But not only was my father a United Methodist Minister.  His father was a United Methodist Minister.  And my grandfather’s brothers were United Methodist Ministers, and my uncle was a United Methodist Chaplain, and my cousins were United Methodist ministers.  At Annual Conference every year, there was a whole Andrews section.  So what I was dreading was telling my grandmother that I was breaking ranks.  My grandmother is pretty intense.  As a former librarian and English teacher, I was actually pretty intimidated by her most of my childhood.  Eventually I gathered up my nerve and had a talk with her.  As soon as I told her the news she gave out a huff.  And then she leaned in toward me and said, “I was a Lutheran before I married your grandfather.  I never wanted to be a Methodist anyway!”

Here’s the thing about following God – when we follow God, we get confirmation along the way.  I do not think that Jesus was asking his followers to abandon Abraham and trust in him alone.  Instead, I think Jesus was reminding them that if Abraham was their father, they would actually follow Abraham’s example.  Instead of clinging to an old, stable identity, they needed to remember that the main thing Abraham was known for was abandoning his old life and going to a new, scary place, and following God.  Jesus is not mad at his followers because they are clinging to the past.  Jesus is mad at his followers because they are clinging to a distorted version of the past – they are clinging to security instead of remembering the past is what taught them that sometimes they need to get up, drop everything, and go.  Sometimes they need to take a risk and say no to a worldly power who wants them to abandon who they are and what they are called to be.  These two stories are not about examples of total trust versus a lack of trust.  The two stories remind us that trusting God will lead us to uncomfortable places, will challenge our sense that we know God best, and will sometimes make us dance.

Our collect or prayer appointed for this last Wednesday before we begin Holy Week says, “Almighty God our heavenly Father, renew in us the gifts of your mercy; increase our faith, strengthen our hope, enlighten our understanding, widen our charity, and make us ready to serve you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.”  We leave this sacred place tonight, not with a sense that we need to dramatically follow Christ into the flames or be considered faithlessly unwilling to go where God calls us.  Instead, these stories remind us that we can always stand to increase our faith, strengthen our hope, enlighten our understanding, widen our charity, and be made ready to serve.  We all know we need that work because that is the work we have been doing all Lent – working on our faithful walk with Christ.  What these stories remind us of is we have companions along the way – companions who are bold and fearless, companions who have messed up, and companions who may not even go to our own church, but who know our same journey and our same God.  Christ renews us in his mercy tonight, so that we can keep saying yes to God.  Amen.

Getting on the Ride…

Tags

adventure, change, community, dream, excitement, exciting, fear, God, Holy Spirit, inviting, ministry, new, ride, rollercoaster, thrill

Photo credit:  https://www.legoland.com/california/legoland-california/rides-and-attractions/park-areas/castle-hill/rides/the-dragon/

On our family vacation last week, we visited an amusement park.  My eight-year old was finally at the age where she could try some more ambitious, if not scary, rides.  Watching her experiment with her fear and curiosity was fascinating.  Before most rides, she was completely enthusiastic and daring.  But waiting in line seemed to rattle her confidence.  Several times, we almost bailed completely.  In fact, one of my favorite pictures of her was taken right before she boarded a particularly scary ride (one even I was too scared to try!).  In the picture, her eyes are like saucers and her eyebrows are raised as she clutches her father’s hand.  But for the rest of the trip, she raved about that particular ride and almost cried when she realized she could not ride the rollercoaster one more time.

I was thinking this week that adults are not that dissimilar from my daughter when it comes to something new and exciting.  There is a part of us that cannot wait to try something new, and there is a part of us that is terrified about the experience, imagining in our minds the countless things that could go wrong or that might happen.  As with any change, we have the option to get on the ride and experience the thrill of something new, or we have the option to play things safe, and step out of line.  I suspect there are times when getting out of the line is the best option.  But more often, I suspect we miss out on adventure and new life when we don’t just step onto the ride.  Too often we forget that we can get on the ride and still say, “I am glad I tried it.  And now I will never do that again!”

Last night, the James City County Board of Supervisors approved a special use permit for the Kensington School to put a second location on the property of Hickory Neck Episcopal Church.  Hickory Neck has been dreaming about creating a school on our property for about ten years.  We kept deferring the dream because we were not sure we could both build and run a school.  But this past year, the Holy Spirit intervened, and we discovered that the Kensington School was looking to open a second location in our neighborhood.  God seemed to be inviting us to finally step onto a thrilling, albeit a bit scary, ride.  We have been standing in line for a while, getting more and more excited about what God can do through Hickory Neck.  Last night, the Board’s approval was our last step before boarding the ride.

Like with any change, this new phase of ministry will be full of exciting, wonderful things we never expected, and some challenging, hard things we never expected.  Part of our work is trusting the same Holy Spirit that has been guiding us thus far will continue to guide and lighten our path.  Some of us may be wide-eyed, with eyebrows raised about what is coming next.  But I suspect in a year or so, most of us will be thrilled that we said yes to the Holy Spirit, and agreed to try to be a force for change for our community.  I am here, with you, Hickory Neck – holding your hand and ready for the adventure!

On Cars and Change…

Tags

car, change, God, grief, Holy Spirit, ideas, life, new, old, relationship with God, sad, season, time

Photo credit:  https://orlandoespinosa.wordpress.com/2015/12/09/to-everything/

This weekend we got a new car and traded in my old car.  My old car was fifteen years old and had almost 180,000 miles.  We would have kept the car longer, but there were too many expensive fixes to make repairing the car worth the car’s value.  Normally, people get pretty excited about a new car – all the old dents and scratches are gone, and in my case, I can now be certain I won’t be break down on the highway.  But mostly I have been a bit sad about having to get rid of the old car.  That car helped us get through three rounds of graduate school, four moves, multiple jobs, the birth of two children, and was only six months younger than our marriage.  The car survived endless road trips, commutes to work, and at one point was our shared car until we got a second car.  Although the car had started making me anxious with all its repair needs, I felt like I was saying goodbye to a good, faithful friend.

As I have been reflecting on that experience, I have been thinking my experience with my old and new car is similar to how we all experience change.  Most of us know that change in inevitable, and yet most of us do not like change.  Even if the thing we are changing from is good for us, we miss the old quirks, patterns, and sense of regularity.  And the further out of the familiar we get, the more epic the memory of what once was becomes.  This is often the point at which people begin to refer to the “good ol’ days,” or “the way things used to be.”  Whatever the new change is will rarely seem as good as the old standard.

I have been feeling that way about my new car.  Sure, it is more reliable, it has fewer things peeling, sagging, or just broken, and it is more sporty, shiny, and colorful.  But I am finding I am not yet sold.  The new car just does not feel like it fits yet.  Observing my feelings about my car has been especially helpful for me as I think about all the times I have introduced change at church.  Sure, whatever changes I have introduced are usually for the good, and most often, become the new “way we have always done it.”  But falling in love with the new change takes time.  It does not happen overnight.

Perhaps this may be a good way we can approach our relationship with God.  The Holy Spirit is God’s agent of change.  She is always whispering new ideas, blowing new people into our lives, and breathing life into our imaginations.  Listening to the movement of the Holy Spirit is exciting, fun, and invigorating.  But boldly following the Holy Spirit also needs to involve tending to the grief of letting go of the what the Spirit was doing before.  The writer of Ecclesiastes says, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.”  I wonder what seasons are passing away in your life, and what new times are arriving for you.  My prayer for you is that you be able to appreciate the season you are in, let go of the seasons that have passed, and embrace the seasons that are yet to come.  I know the Holy Spirit is doing good things in you.  I cannot wait to walk with you in the twists and turns!

On Adventures and God…

Tags

adventure, bruise, church, doubt, fear, fun, God, hurt, invitation, new, question, relationship

Photo credit:  Elizabeth Shows Caffey

One of the themes of this summer for me has been new adventures.  This summer I tried aerial yoga for the first time – a practice of yoga that involves being suspended from the ceiling with silks.  I also rode a bike for the first time in over 20 years.  And last night, for the first time ever, I represented our church by throwing one of the first pitches at our local minor league baseball games.  In each of those instances, I was nervous, skeptical, or downright scared.  I know I yelped at least once in aerial yoga.  When I first started riding the bike, I was so stressed out that my hands started hurting from gripping the handlebars.  And as I waited to throw that first pitch, my stomach was doing flip-flops.

Those examples may not sound all that thrilling to you.  I certainly did not skydive, bungee jump, or walk a tightrope.  But those adventures were all experiences I normally would have declined – coming up with a hundred reasons why the adventures would be a bad idea:  pulled muscles, skinned knees, or a bruised ego.  But in each instance, I could see in the eyes of the people asking me to take the adventure a sense of longing, hopefulness, vulnerability.  They were inviting me into adventure, and saying “no” would have meant a crushed spirit of enthusiasm.  And so, against my better judgment, I said “yes.”  And you know what?  In every instance I had a ton of fun!

I was thinking this morning about that weighty pause when someone invites you into adventure – when you can either say “yes” or “no,” with the person left eagerly anticipating your response.  I think we experience that same weighty pause with God all the time.  God is constantly inviting us to take on new adventures:  stepping through the church doors for the first time in a long time, hoping not to be judged or hurt; going to a church study group, unsure about how your doubts or questions may be received; serving dinner at the homeless ministry, wondering what you can possibly say to or have in common with someone who lives on the streets.  If you do not have a relationship with Christ, saying “yes” can be hard.  But even when you do have a relationship with Christ, responding positively to an invitation from God can be hard.  Taking on new adventures with God means trusting, letting go of fear, and making yourself vulnerable.

I wonder what invitations to adventure God has been inviting you to try this week.  What invitation might you say “yes” to that you have been delaying or refusing altogether?  The risk is that you might pull some muscles, skin some knees, or bruise that old ego.  But the payoff is that you might find meaning, purpose, and renewed relationship with God.  And I suspect that you might also have a bit of fun!

On Sushi and Other Adventures…

Tags

adventure, church, commit, experiment, food, God, new, try, variety

Photo credit:  www.lifehack.org/articles/lifestyle/kitchen-hack-five-minute-maki-sushi-rolls.html

My husband and I have very different experiences of food.  I like to try new things and am constantly surprised but what things I discover and grow to love.  He is much less experimental and is easily turned off by new smells or flavors.  I love a variety of foods, and he is what I would call, “picky.”  Our differences have certainly made shared meals difficult.  I have learned to use meals with friends or colleagues as my time to play with food.  And I have also learned what common foods we like and can share on a weekly basis.

When we had children, I was desperate to instill in them a love of the varieties of food – not because I think my husband’s preferences are bad necessarily, but more because I want them to be willing to try new things.  That has meant introducing things to the kids at an early age, treating new foods like a fun experiment, and learning how to use “thank you, please” bites (a practice in which the child has to try at least one solid bite of a new food – every time it is served).  The experiment has taken time.  Things I introduced early did not go so well.  But over time, my oldest has become more and more interested in new tastes and textures.

This week, on a mommy-daughter date, I decided to try sushi again with my oldest.  She tried it once before (in a gracious, “thank you, please” bite), but I figured it had been a year or two and we could try again.  I got a sampling of sushi, and she bravely tried every kind.  She had miso soup for the first time, and proclaimed she loved it (I waited to tell her what the green stuff (seaweed) and white stuff (tofu) was until after she ate it first).  She also tried some noodles as a backup plan.   As we were wrapping up our fun lunch, my daughter said to me, “Mommy, I like trying new foods.”

I was thinking about her adventurous spirit and realized we could all use a little more willingness to try new things.  Your thing might not be food, but there might be other areas of life that you have been avoiding out of a sense of fear or trepidation.  Maybe it’s a new clothing style, a fun recreational activity, or a book.  Maybe it is a new form of prayer, an outreach opportunity, or a new style of worship or liturgical music.  As I look back at these first nine months at Hickory Neck, I realize we have both been doing a lot of experimenting – I have been trying new things and so has the parish.  Some of the changes we have loved, some have been a bit awkward, and some did not work at all.  But knowing that we are committed to the adventure has made the trying of things less intimidating – and I think more exciting!  We are probably not going to like everything we try, but a good, “thank you, please” bite won’t hurt.  Here’s to more adventures, Hickory Neck – with God, with one another, and with the world!

Is this me?

Tags

adventure, bold, challenge, change, comfort zone, confidence, creativity, fashion, God, goodness, identity, ministry, new, trust

Photo credit:  www.womansday.com/style/fashion/a6531/dressing-room-tips/

Those of you who know me well know that I am not a fashionista.  Though I manage to look pulled-together, that comes with a lot of help – mostly from my patient, much more fashionable husband.  I am constantly asking if things match, if certain shoes go with a particular outfit, or if certain accessories are right.  Over the years, my husband has learned to push me out of my comfort zone (as much as I will allow).  But in trying new looks or styles, invariably the question arises, “Is this me?”

As I have gotten older, I have begun to realize that I am the only one who can answer that question, “Is this me?”  Sometimes the answer is an obvious, “No!”  If I do not like the message the outfit sends, or if I know I will be fidgeting from discomfort, then I will never be confident in the look.  But sometimes the answer is, “It could be – if you want it to be.”  An outfit that obviously fits into your comfort zone does not need analyzing.  It is safe.  But one that is neither safely in the comfort zone nor way out of the comfort zone is in that sweet spot where you have to decide how bold and creative you want to be.  Because sometimes those new shoes bring out something adventurous in you.  Sometimes that new dress makes you a bit more self-assured.  And sometimes that accessory pulls out something inside of you that you did not realize was there.

That question, “Is this me?” is the same question Hickory Neck has been asking in these last months.  We have been through a pretty tremendous transition in leadership and identity.  When I started in April, many of you wondered what having a female rector with young children would look like.  Holding on to the memories of our two most recent rectors, and looking at this new rector, many of us wondered, “Is this me?”  And, then, just this past Sunday, we tried on something else – a Curate.  Now, Hickory Neck has been a two-clergy parish for many years in its past.  But the financial strain of transition and the uncertainty about identity has caused many to wonder if being a two-clergy parish is who we are now.

As our new curate has been settling into his office, I have been thinking that sometimes, the only way to answer the question, “Is this me?” is to just go for it.  Part of the equation will necessitate us being bold enough to live into a new identity under new leadership.  Like with a bold new outfit, we have to put our minds to living fully into the path we have chosen for our future.  But the other part of the equation is remembering how, like putting on a bold new outfit, sometimes our confidence will rise in spite of ourselves.  Just by living into our new identity, our sense of adventure, creativity, and confidence will grow.  Change is hard, and I know many of us this week may be wondering, “Is this me?”  For those of you asking that question, I encourage you to trust that God is at work for goodness among us – pushing us into that sweet spot where tremendous ministry can happen.  I don’t know about you, but I am pretty excited to live into our new look!

Speaking my Language

Tags

church, communicate, culture, hear, Holy Spirit, language, new, North, Pentecost, South, speak, tongues

Photo credit:  stbarts.org/worship/pentecost-languages/

As many of you know, I was raised in the South.  My San Diego-native husband tells me that when he met me in high school, I had an endearing North Carolina accent.  But after going to college with people from all over the country and living in Delaware, I found that my accent faded.  I tended to pick up phrases and patterns of speech from those around me.  Of course, one call from my Alabama-native mother, and all bets were off.  But about four years ago, my family moved to Long Island with our then two-year-old.  Surrounded by Long Islanders, she quickly started pronouncing vowels differently and dropping r’s.  I am not sure how much of the dialect I assimilated, but my ears certainly adjusted.

What I came to finally understand about all these dialects is that much more important than the sound of words are the culturally different ways people communicate with one another in different regions of the country.  My experience on Long Island was that people were very direct and incisive with their words.  Being from the South, this was more of a shock than the dialect.  In the South, people are indirect and subtle with their language.  Though I was raised to interpret conversations in the South, if I am honest, I found the Long Island way of communicating refreshing.  Although I sometimes felt like I was being slapped in the face by the brutal honesty of another person, when I went home, I knew where I stood.  That was not always the case in the South.  People are almost always polite, but hidden in the politeness are sometimes feeling of resentment or hurt, which cannot be addressed if you do not know how to hear the subtlety.

This Sunday, the Church is celebrating Pentecost.  If you remember the story from Acts, those gathered begin speaking in tongues.  The miracle was not in the speaking of tongues, but in the understanding of tongues by everyone gathered.  Each heard their own language and the message was clearly understood by all.  Having recently returned to the South, I find myself wondering in what ways the Church could be speaking more clearly.  I am not suggesting that one region of the country has the market on clear speech.  What I am suggesting is that as a Church, we are not always great at communicating the power of Christ in our lives.  We either get lost in “church speak,” or we try to academically explain matters of the heart, or, out of fear or discomfort, we do not speak at all.  As we honor the miracle of the work of the Holy Spirit over two thousand years ago, our invitation at Pentecost is to honor the ways in which the Holy Spirit can continue to enliven the church to speak understandably to a new generation.