As I was leaving my neighborhood this morning, I noticed what looked like a two-headed goose walking across the street. At the end of a long line of geese children, this adult goose was playing goose caboose. When it paused to eat some grass, I paused to see what made it look like it had two heads. Just when I’d determined that I must have just seen an odd angle of the goose’s tail, I saw a baby goose hanging on tight to its mama’s (or daddy’s) back. It seemed to be having a wonderful time hanging its head over its parent’s side, trying to catch a bite of grass or a bug or whatever geese eat. I imagined the baby goose yelling, “Whhhhheeeeee!” as it got a free ride to the pond.
I smiled.
Just as I was making my turn onto Mrs. Flora’s road, I saw what looked like a statue of a little dog standing beside the road. I did a double take because I hadn’t noticed the statue before, and when I did I saw the statue move. In the exact moment I realized that the dog was not a statue, I saw a car coming the other way. I thought, “Oh. Please don’t walk forward, little dog,” at the exact moment that the little dog walked forward at the exact moment the car drove past. I heard a thud. I saw a tiny, broken creature flip through the air. I saw the look of horror on the driver’s face and watched as she pulled over, but I kept driving, very slowly, feeling extremely sad for the dog…and for the dog’s owners who had most likely just let him/out to pee.
I’ve tried to get the image out of my mind, but I can’t.
Twenty minutes after that terrible moment, when I received a completely unrelated response text from a friend from whom I hadn’t heard in awhile, I cried. Three hours after the incident, when I left Mrs. Flora’s to visit Journey the Dog, I cried. Six hours after the incident, when I looked at pictures from two friends’ wedding, I cried. And now, seven hours after the incident, as I type these words and watch Bullet bullet through the house, I cry. Delayed grief, I suppose. Delayed release of emotion after witnessing an innocent doggy life taken.
Life is so fragile. So exciting and sad. So beautiful and ugly. So new and old. So scheduled and unpredictable.
Nature reminded me of that today.
O God, by whom the meek are guided and light rises from darkness: Grant us, in all our hurts, doubts, and uncertainties, the grace to know that you are near. Grant that your spirit of wisdom may save us from all lies and that your ever-present spirit of truth will ring loudly in our ears. Assist us mercifully, O God, in facing all of the changes and chances in this mortal life and compel us to embrace life fully. Help us to ride life’s journey with a child’s excitement and to face death by looking forward to what is ahead. Amen.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
Journey
For a little over two hours today, I spent time with Journey the Dog. He’s a one-year-old Shih Tzu who is very fluffy and cute. We took one walk by the river in the rain and another walk on the neighborhood road. We played with a stuffed hedgehog and a stuffed worm, and Journey worked hard to get the rubber band out of my hair so that he could play with it. In the process, he cleaned a small portion of my hair.
Journey and I had a good time together and I was thankful for the day’s work. It wasn’t hard work. It was fun. And simple. And it even gave me a few minutes to read (with my ears) while we took the neighborhood walk.
The neatest thing that happened, though, was a baby deer running through the woods in the rain. I don’t know where the deer came from or where he ended up going, but for one brief moment, I watched him run parallel to river, stop by a wood pile, look back at Journey and me, and then run away through the neighbor’s yard. He looked scared. Maybe he was. Maybe Journey and I startled him as he was burrowing in the woods. Or maybe he didn’t know where he was. Where were his parents? His family? And why was he running alone? Had he been adventurous and wandered off? Had he been abandoned? Were there enough woods left in the neighborhood in which he could survive?
As Journey stood motion and bark-less, I did the same. I listened to the river flowing, felt the rain falling, and watched as nature did her thing before my eyes. It was beautiful. Then I followed as Journey retraced the deer’s tracks until he lost the scent.
The speed of my life is a lot slower today than it was a year ago at this time. When I wasn’t nannying Journey today, I was helping my mom clean the house. Tomorrow, I’ll help my sister clean her house and I’ll both babysit and teach music to her children. Wednesday, I’ll spend time with an 83-year-old woman who is lonely and needs help shopping and cleaning and remembering what day it is. Thursday, I may do the same. Friday, I’ll visit Journey again and then celebrate my mom’s birthday by playing games and eating sandwiches with my family.
This is my life right now. This is where God has led. It’s not what the world deems acceptable for an almost 36-year-old master’s degree holder. If I’m lucky, then I make just enough money to pay my bills each month, and my bills are small compared to the average persons’ these days. I’m not contributing to a retirement plan. I’m not putting away money in savings. My tithe is tiny because my “paycheck” is the same. Things of old are passing away and things of new are trying to burst through dark ground.
My heart is waiting. But life is not standing still.
How ironic that my latest job is with a creature named Journey.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
This Crazy Disease Called Hope
A couple of weeks ago, my parents and I stumbled upon a show on HGTV that actually interested all of us. We watched 7 episodes of “Rehab Addict” that day and saw an entire house renovation. We were fascinated.
Nicole Curtis, the host/designer/renovator of the show, rescues old houses from demolition. Her goal is to restore houses to their original glory, using original flooring, wood, and furniture whenever possible.
She is a dumpster diver. She is a trash-pile picker. She has no shame in the fact that every piece of furniture in her house was rescued from the side of the road or a dumpster. She refurbishes thrown-out tables, dressers, medicine cabinets, bookshelves, and workbenches. She saves old windows, doors, hardwood flooring, and lumber because she knows that most of them can be reused.
She tears down walls, busts up old concrete, pours new concrete, drives the back-hoe, works with landscaping, puts in piping. She does whatever needs to be done and asks a lot of questions along the way. She believes that every opportunity is a learning opportunity.
Nicole Curtis is a single mom. She is a hard-worker who turned her life around by doing odd jobs and taking risks. She is real and down to earth. She makes mistakes and laughs at them. She forgets to get her car oil changed and runs out of gas in her moped. She enjoys spending time with her parents and is proud of her mom for recently going on her first mission trip to Africa.
Tonight, after stumbling upon the show again, I watched as Nicole took old paint to a paint recycling place where they re-use every part of old paint buckets. This is par for the course for her. She likes to partner with organizations that share her values of hope and redemption.
Curious as to who Nicole Curtis is, I googled her. As part of my reading, I scrolled down her Facebook wall and realized that what she portrays on TV isn’t an act. It’s who she is. There is a picture of her weeping after an old house was destroyed by someone who just wanted something new. She did her best to save the house—to honor the past and the beauty that it carries—but demolition won in the end. During the process of trying to save the house, she wrote:
“I was told today that houses are just ‘sticks and mortar’ -and that I get too emotionally vested. My thought is that if we start to care about the ‘sticks and mortar’ and keeping our communities intact -isn't that teaching our children to respect the past and to open their eyes? We might have fancier electronics now, but trust me--we are still facing the same stresses that people did 100 years ago in these houses. Doubt me? Sit and chat with someone that is 90 years old :). Even if you believe me, sit and chat with someone who is 90-it's refreshing and enlightening. Happy Sunday.”
At another time, she also wrote:
“Today--I'm going back at it and it doesn't matter what I am doing: saving old homes,volunteering, playing mom or being an active neighbor. My goal is to spread this crazy disease called Hope that I have (the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best).
What I hope for today is the same as everyday: people to start caring again...
One step at a time...”
Did you read those words? Her hope is that people will start caring again—one step at a time. She hopes that we will sit down and talk with persons who are 90-years-old—persons who are often overlooked yet full of beauty and depth. Nicole Curtis believes in hope. She believes in redemption. And she lives those values in her work. I think it's obvious that I admire that.
I don’t know about you, but my faith is built on hope and redemption. It stands on transforming what’s broken into something that’s whole. It rests on God saving us from the trash-heap and making us into something new. It looks at life and sees possibility. It believes that we may be persecuted but that we are not abandoned.
For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down,but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you. 2 Corinthians 4:6-12
Life is at work within you, friend. Within us. Spreading this crazy disease called hope. One step at a time.
Nicole Curtis, the host/designer/renovator of the show, rescues old houses from demolition. Her goal is to restore houses to their original glory, using original flooring, wood, and furniture whenever possible.
She is a dumpster diver. She is a trash-pile picker. She has no shame in the fact that every piece of furniture in her house was rescued from the side of the road or a dumpster. She refurbishes thrown-out tables, dressers, medicine cabinets, bookshelves, and workbenches. She saves old windows, doors, hardwood flooring, and lumber because she knows that most of them can be reused.
She tears down walls, busts up old concrete, pours new concrete, drives the back-hoe, works with landscaping, puts in piping. She does whatever needs to be done and asks a lot of questions along the way. She believes that every opportunity is a learning opportunity.
Nicole Curtis is a single mom. She is a hard-worker who turned her life around by doing odd jobs and taking risks. She is real and down to earth. She makes mistakes and laughs at them. She forgets to get her car oil changed and runs out of gas in her moped. She enjoys spending time with her parents and is proud of her mom for recently going on her first mission trip to Africa.
Tonight, after stumbling upon the show again, I watched as Nicole took old paint to a paint recycling place where they re-use every part of old paint buckets. This is par for the course for her. She likes to partner with organizations that share her values of hope and redemption.
Curious as to who Nicole Curtis is, I googled her. As part of my reading, I scrolled down her Facebook wall and realized that what she portrays on TV isn’t an act. It’s who she is. There is a picture of her weeping after an old house was destroyed by someone who just wanted something new. She did her best to save the house—to honor the past and the beauty that it carries—but demolition won in the end. During the process of trying to save the house, she wrote:
“I was told today that houses are just ‘sticks and mortar’ -and that I get too emotionally vested. My thought is that if we start to care about the ‘sticks and mortar’ and keeping our communities intact -isn't that teaching our children to respect the past and to open their eyes? We might have fancier electronics now, but trust me--we are still facing the same stresses that people did 100 years ago in these houses. Doubt me? Sit and chat with someone that is 90 years old :). Even if you believe me, sit and chat with someone who is 90-it's refreshing and enlightening. Happy Sunday.”
At another time, she also wrote:
“Today--I'm going back at it and it doesn't matter what I am doing: saving old homes,volunteering, playing mom or being an active neighbor. My goal is to spread this crazy disease called Hope that I have (the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best).
What I hope for today is the same as everyday: people to start caring again...
One step at a time...”
Did you read those words? Her hope is that people will start caring again—one step at a time. She hopes that we will sit down and talk with persons who are 90-years-old—persons who are often overlooked yet full of beauty and depth. Nicole Curtis believes in hope. She believes in redemption. And she lives those values in her work. I think it's obvious that I admire that.
I don’t know about you, but my faith is built on hope and redemption. It stands on transforming what’s broken into something that’s whole. It rests on God saving us from the trash-heap and making us into something new. It looks at life and sees possibility. It believes that we may be persecuted but that we are not abandoned.
For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down,but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you. 2 Corinthians 4:6-12
Life is at work within you, friend. Within us. Spreading this crazy disease called hope. One step at a time.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Chopped Grass Trespasses
I learned to drive by mowing the grass.
My brother and I each spent countless hours on riding lawnmowers growing up. Living in the church parsonage, we had a very large yard to mow, so one of us would take the front and back of the house while the other would take the side field where we played football. I’m not sure what my brother listened to or thought about while he mowed, but I know that I listened to mix-tapes on my walkman and sang loudly enough to be heard over the roar of both mowers. Not very good for my vocal chords, I know.
Until today, though, I hadn’t mowed the grass in years. I don’t know what came over me, but I saw the lawnmower sitting just beyond the porch and declared to my mom, “I think I’ll surprise dad and mow the grass today.” At first, I wasn’t sure that I knew how to start the lawnmower because it wasn’t the one I drove growing up, but my lawn-mowing instincts quickly kicked in and before I knew it I was off and mowing.
While I mowed, I thought about “The Lord’s Prayer.” I thought about the line, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” and I thought, “If there is nothing we can or cannot do to earn more of God’s love or forgiveness, and if we ask God to forgive us in proportion to the forgiveness that we extend to others, then what we are really saying is, ‘Thank you for forgiving us and help us to understand more of that forgiveness as we understand more of how to forgive others as we forgive ourselves as understand more of You.’ Or. We can only know God to the extent that we love others and we can only love others to extent that we know God.”
I’m having trouble explaining this one, but it makes sense in my mind…especially in regard to what I’ve seen on the popular TV show “Chopped.” There are basically two kinds of persons on “Chopped.” There are those who are competitive, arrogant, and bitter when they lose and there are those who are there to do their best and are thankful for the experience whether they win or lose. The former seem incapable of true, deep happiness while the latter do seem capable of receiving it. No matter what happens to the former, they cannot feel anything other than what they’ve allow themselves to feel—which is that life is out to get them—while the latter can feel more deeply because they’ve allowed themselves to come to a deeper place of peace. Some people can experience more of God’s forgiveness because they’ve allowed themselves to experience more forgiveness on this earth…yet no forgiveness is possible without God’s forgiveness in the first place.
Again. I’m having trouble explaining this, but it makes sense in my mind. But it also makes my mind hurt, which is why I moved from thinking about it to listening to Harry Potter. I listened to one and a half discs before finishing the yard. I felt deep anger toward Professor Umbridge and the Ministry of Magic and the hurtful impact of lies and fear and then I came inside to shower so that I could go to a senior adult meeting with my mom to teach about none other than “The Lord’s Prayer.”
I drove to the meeting. The ride in the car was much smoother than my laps around the yard on the lawnmower. But I’m glad for today’s return to my first type of driving machine and the reminder of all that it taught me…even with the large scrape that I currently have on my leg from a brief encounter with a tree.
My brother and I each spent countless hours on riding lawnmowers growing up. Living in the church parsonage, we had a very large yard to mow, so one of us would take the front and back of the house while the other would take the side field where we played football. I’m not sure what my brother listened to or thought about while he mowed, but I know that I listened to mix-tapes on my walkman and sang loudly enough to be heard over the roar of both mowers. Not very good for my vocal chords, I know.
Until today, though, I hadn’t mowed the grass in years. I don’t know what came over me, but I saw the lawnmower sitting just beyond the porch and declared to my mom, “I think I’ll surprise dad and mow the grass today.” At first, I wasn’t sure that I knew how to start the lawnmower because it wasn’t the one I drove growing up, but my lawn-mowing instincts quickly kicked in and before I knew it I was off and mowing.
While I mowed, I thought about “The Lord’s Prayer.” I thought about the line, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” and I thought, “If there is nothing we can or cannot do to earn more of God’s love or forgiveness, and if we ask God to forgive us in proportion to the forgiveness that we extend to others, then what we are really saying is, ‘Thank you for forgiving us and help us to understand more of that forgiveness as we understand more of how to forgive others as we forgive ourselves as understand more of You.’ Or. We can only know God to the extent that we love others and we can only love others to extent that we know God.”
I’m having trouble explaining this one, but it makes sense in my mind…especially in regard to what I’ve seen on the popular TV show “Chopped.” There are basically two kinds of persons on “Chopped.” There are those who are competitive, arrogant, and bitter when they lose and there are those who are there to do their best and are thankful for the experience whether they win or lose. The former seem incapable of true, deep happiness while the latter do seem capable of receiving it. No matter what happens to the former, they cannot feel anything other than what they’ve allow themselves to feel—which is that life is out to get them—while the latter can feel more deeply because they’ve allowed themselves to come to a deeper place of peace. Some people can experience more of God’s forgiveness because they’ve allowed themselves to experience more forgiveness on this earth…yet no forgiveness is possible without God’s forgiveness in the first place.
Again. I’m having trouble explaining this, but it makes sense in my mind. But it also makes my mind hurt, which is why I moved from thinking about it to listening to Harry Potter. I listened to one and a half discs before finishing the yard. I felt deep anger toward Professor Umbridge and the Ministry of Magic and the hurtful impact of lies and fear and then I came inside to shower so that I could go to a senior adult meeting with my mom to teach about none other than “The Lord’s Prayer.”
I drove to the meeting. The ride in the car was much smoother than my laps around the yard on the lawnmower. But I’m glad for today’s return to my first type of driving machine and the reminder of all that it taught me…even with the large scrape that I currently have on my leg from a brief encounter with a tree.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Ninety One Years Later: The Card Underline
June 13, 1922.
The old house in the country of Hollister, NC.
Ethel Shearin delivers her first baby girl: Nina Louise Shearin.
Nina’s mom, dad, and doctor are present.
June 13, 2013.
The house in the Holiday Hill area of Jacksonville, FL.
Nina Louise Shearin Kidd celebrates her 91st birthday.
Nina’s three daughters, two son-in-laws, two of her grandchildren, and her great-grand-monkey are present.
Nina Kidd has lived a good life, seen a lot of changes—not the least of which was desegregation—and become affectionately known as G-mama to her four grandchildren and five great-children.
This grandchild is one of the ones present with her today.
In many ways, not having a job has been very challenging and recent weeks have been no exception. But in other ways, not having a job has been a blessing because I’ve gotten to spend extra time with the people I love—G-mama being no exception.
As G-mama opened her cards and presents today, I giggled when I saw that one of her friends had done the “card underline” on G-mama’s card. She had also filled the card with handwritten news, not caring that the cursive was shaky and lines of writing crooked.
You see, that’s what G-mama always does when she sends cards. She does the “card underline”—the single, double, or triple underlining of certain words as a means of highlighting them—and then includes a handwritten message of news and/or good wishes. She also usually sends a dollar inside the card.
Many years ago, when I was sending 7-10 cards per week—I actually had a spreadsheet to keep myself organized!—G-mama and I sent each other a lot of dollars and cards full of the card underline. G-mama collected her dollars until she had enough to pay for a pedicure. I left my dollars in their cards so that I could go back and find them later.
In recent years, I’ve been terrible at sending cards. I have a whole bunch purchased. I have forever stamps. I like sharing the card underline with friends and family. Yet. Birthdays and holidays and random days come and go while cards don’t get sent. From me. But from G-mama?
With 91 years of life behind her and a very shaky left hand, G-mama still sends cards. She doesn’t send as many as she used to because so many of her friends have died. But she still sends cards, complete with the card underline, to friends and family whenever the occasion arises.
I admire that about G-mama. I always have.
I probably won’t have 3 children and 4 grandchildren and 5 great-children and sending cards through the mail may be obsolete by the time I’m ninety-one, but still…I hope that after 91 years of living, I am still thinking about those whom I love and doing whatever I can to brighten their days.
Thank you, G-mama for your example and for introducing us to the “card underline.”
You are loved.
And we are blessed.
Happy birthday!
And amen.
The old house in the country of Hollister, NC.
Ethel Shearin delivers her first baby girl: Nina Louise Shearin.
Nina’s mom, dad, and doctor are present.
June 13, 2013.
The house in the Holiday Hill area of Jacksonville, FL.
Nina Louise Shearin Kidd celebrates her 91st birthday.
Nina’s three daughters, two son-in-laws, two of her grandchildren, and her great-grand-monkey are present.
Nina Kidd has lived a good life, seen a lot of changes—not the least of which was desegregation—and become affectionately known as G-mama to her four grandchildren and five great-children.
This grandchild is one of the ones present with her today.
In many ways, not having a job has been very challenging and recent weeks have been no exception. But in other ways, not having a job has been a blessing because I’ve gotten to spend extra time with the people I love—G-mama being no exception.
As G-mama opened her cards and presents today, I giggled when I saw that one of her friends had done the “card underline” on G-mama’s card. She had also filled the card with handwritten news, not caring that the cursive was shaky and lines of writing crooked.
You see, that’s what G-mama always does when she sends cards. She does the “card underline”—the single, double, or triple underlining of certain words as a means of highlighting them—and then includes a handwritten message of news and/or good wishes. She also usually sends a dollar inside the card.
Many years ago, when I was sending 7-10 cards per week—I actually had a spreadsheet to keep myself organized!—G-mama and I sent each other a lot of dollars and cards full of the card underline. G-mama collected her dollars until she had enough to pay for a pedicure. I left my dollars in their cards so that I could go back and find them later.
In recent years, I’ve been terrible at sending cards. I have a whole bunch purchased. I have forever stamps. I like sharing the card underline with friends and family. Yet. Birthdays and holidays and random days come and go while cards don’t get sent. From me. But from G-mama?
With 91 years of life behind her and a very shaky left hand, G-mama still sends cards. She doesn’t send as many as she used to because so many of her friends have died. But she still sends cards, complete with the card underline, to friends and family whenever the occasion arises.
I admire that about G-mama. I always have.
I probably won’t have 3 children and 4 grandchildren and 5 great-children and sending cards through the mail may be obsolete by the time I’m ninety-one, but still…I hope that after 91 years of living, I am still thinking about those whom I love and doing whatever I can to brighten their days.
Thank you, G-mama for your example and for introducing us to the “card underline.”
You are loved.
And we are blessed.
Happy birthday!
And amen.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Maybe Trying Is Good Enough
I’m a good talker. I share what’s on my mind with close friends, family, and my counselor, and I stay in tune with what’s going on in my heart and soul through writing and talking to the same. I don’t pretend to be perfect. I don’t pretend to have to have everything together. I don’t try to hide my weaknesses and insecurities because I truly believe in the value of sharing together common humanity. But I realized this week that I’m not a good confessor.
I’m not a good confessor to God and myself.
It’s the seemingly small things that like to hide—those nagging fears and doubts that I don’t want to speak—those self-centered, self-preserving, self-elevating thoughts that I don’t want to admit—the ones that are mixed with thoughts and prayers for others—the ones that stand in judgment of persons and organizations who have hurt me and that want those persons and organizations to hurt, even suffer, in return…
It’s those thoughts—those ugly, ugly thoughts—those thoughts that lay relatively dormant but are there nonetheless—that I cringe to confess.
And yet…
Lying in the bed the other night, I found those thoughts pouring from my mouth.
As I struggled to pray for “somebody that I used to know,” I realized that I didn’t know how—I realized that I didn’t know what—to pray for those who have hurt and/or persecuted me. I realized that it’s hard to pray blessings when blessings have been taken away. It’s hard to pray prosperity when work and call have been denied. It’s hard to pray goodness when trust has been betrayed. Yet it’s easy to pray for reconciliation—to pray that time will pass and God will move and love will win…and…well…I will be proven “right” and “okay” and “a really good, loving, patient, kind, and graceful friend and Child of God.”
And so I confessed…all of those sickening thoughts…all of those thoughts that make me feel like dirt for thinking them…all of those thoughts that scream of my utter humanity and inability to love unconditionally…and I’ve continued to struggle with the how and what to pray.
Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.
Greater love has no one than this that he lay down his life for his friends.
And the greatest commandment is this: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. And love your neighbor as yourself.
I know these things. Really I do. I believe them. I speak of them. I fully believe them. I want to do them with everything I am. I was moved to tears as the pastor spoke of this on Sunday.
But when life gets messy and relationships get broken. When prejudice roots itself into the system and distrust becomes a way of life. When culture changes rapidly and scriptural interpretation becomes unclear. When self-care is condemned as laziness and service guilted into hearts. When programs are abused and injustice triumphs. When us stands against them and black and white disappear to color. When God’s name is used as a weapon and it seems that the damage cannot be undone…
How do I love? What look does it take?
How and what do I pray? What sounds do I make?
How do I find the strength to keep going when the way is unclear?
How do I find the courage to keep confessing when confession opens such raw wounds?
I confess that I do not know.
But I admit that I’m trying.
And I’m hoping that trying is good enough.
Holy Spirit?
I’m groaning.
And I’m thankful for forgiveness on this journey.
And what a journey it is.
Amen.
I’m not a good confessor to God and myself.
It’s the seemingly small things that like to hide—those nagging fears and doubts that I don’t want to speak—those self-centered, self-preserving, self-elevating thoughts that I don’t want to admit—the ones that are mixed with thoughts and prayers for others—the ones that stand in judgment of persons and organizations who have hurt me and that want those persons and organizations to hurt, even suffer, in return…
It’s those thoughts—those ugly, ugly thoughts—those thoughts that lay relatively dormant but are there nonetheless—that I cringe to confess.
And yet…
Lying in the bed the other night, I found those thoughts pouring from my mouth.
As I struggled to pray for “somebody that I used to know,” I realized that I didn’t know how—I realized that I didn’t know what—to pray for those who have hurt and/or persecuted me. I realized that it’s hard to pray blessings when blessings have been taken away. It’s hard to pray prosperity when work and call have been denied. It’s hard to pray goodness when trust has been betrayed. Yet it’s easy to pray for reconciliation—to pray that time will pass and God will move and love will win…and…well…I will be proven “right” and “okay” and “a really good, loving, patient, kind, and graceful friend and Child of God.”
And so I confessed…all of those sickening thoughts…all of those thoughts that make me feel like dirt for thinking them…all of those thoughts that scream of my utter humanity and inability to love unconditionally…and I’ve continued to struggle with the how and what to pray.
Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.
Greater love has no one than this that he lay down his life for his friends.
And the greatest commandment is this: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. And love your neighbor as yourself.
I know these things. Really I do. I believe them. I speak of them. I fully believe them. I want to do them with everything I am. I was moved to tears as the pastor spoke of this on Sunday.
But when life gets messy and relationships get broken. When prejudice roots itself into the system and distrust becomes a way of life. When culture changes rapidly and scriptural interpretation becomes unclear. When self-care is condemned as laziness and service guilted into hearts. When programs are abused and injustice triumphs. When us stands against them and black and white disappear to color. When God’s name is used as a weapon and it seems that the damage cannot be undone…
How do I love? What look does it take?
How and what do I pray? What sounds do I make?
How do I find the strength to keep going when the way is unclear?
How do I find the courage to keep confessing when confession opens such raw wounds?
I confess that I do not know.
But I admit that I’m trying.
And I’m hoping that trying is good enough.
Holy Spirit?
I’m groaning.
And I’m thankful for forgiveness on this journey.
And what a journey it is.
Amen.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Prison Ministry and More
I recently had the opportunity to hear a speaker talk about prison ministry. I can’t remember his name, but his presentation connected with what I knew about prison ministry through my work with Angel Tree Camps in NC and The Department of Juvenile Justice and prisoner packets in SC, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. The thing is: he didn’t just talk about prison ministry. He talked about ministry in general. And life. And he was very real. And his words gave me a lot to consider. Maybe they will do the same for you?
Prison ministries need prayer. The system is messed up. It is broken. We need prayer to fix it. It’s the only thing that can, actually.
One of the things that persons in prison don’t often get to do is give. Giving prisoners the opportunity to give is life giving.
Reentry is tough. Nationwide, up to 2/3’s of persons released from prison will return to prison. The transition from prison to life is shocking. A lot of times, when persons are used to community living (like jail/prison), it’s hard to transition to individual living. A lot of people don’t know how to make this transition. Furthermore, in some people, the fight or flight instinct is so developed that it’s their go-to. A lot of freed prisoners aren’t sure how to act when they return to the work and educational settings of society—if they are even granted those opportunities. As a result, many persons shut down, fight, or leave. Unfortunately, persons who work in rehabilitation are not valued—especially with funding. This is where the church must come in. We must work in areas of prevention, treatment, and mediation to first keep persons out of prison and to second help persons who have been jailed slowly transition back to society. The church has the unique ability to succeed in prison ministry by continuously showing up. We have the unique ability to provide the structure and routine that so many people need. This may be difficult. And it may get messy. But the church can make a huge difference in helping persons live truly free.
It’s difficult to see people not cooperating. It’s difficult to listen to people complain about one another and not know when/how to speak. Yet sometimes in the ministry, we treat others as adversaries—especially when it comes to the issues of funding and volunteers. Sometimes in ministry, defenses immediately go up when someone talks about the needs of his/her ministry and we become protective of our own. Yet. God cooperates with all who seek to follow God’s plan of redemption for this world. And. God does not try to coerce or guilt us into joining God’s mission.
In every class, there are five students who love us, five students who hate us, and twenty-five students who are neutral. We, as teachers, must show up for all of them, yes. But we must show up especially for the twenty-five who are neutral. The ones who love us probably don’t really love us so we can’t allow them to falsely boost our egos. The ones who hate us probably don’t really hate us so we can’t allow them to falsely tear us down. The ones in the middle are the ones who willingly journey with and learn alongside us. The ones in the middle are the ones who balance out the extremes and keep us sane.
One of the biggest challenges we face in ministry is being a differentiated self while remaining connected to the system.
Everyone is trying to survive. We never know what’s going on in people’s lives.
Even when it seems that God is not working, God is. There is always hope in God’s redemptive story.
We must experience a lot of Good Fridays and Holy Saturdays before we arrive at Easter.
Often, it’s the sighs and groans from the Spirit that remind us that we’re here for a reason. Sometimes all we can hear and all we can give are the sighs and groans.
Peace isn’t part of the gospel. It is the gospel. It’s what Jesus, Prince of Peace, called us to. It is assumed in Christianity: We are peacemakers. Yet. We can all be very violent in ways that don’t involve hitting or shooting one another. And peace is not the same as complacency. Sometimes peace involves action.
Only speak if what you have to say will add to the silence.
At this time in your life, which of these points resonates most with you?
Prison ministries need prayer. The system is messed up. It is broken. We need prayer to fix it. It’s the only thing that can, actually.
One of the things that persons in prison don’t often get to do is give. Giving prisoners the opportunity to give is life giving.
Reentry is tough. Nationwide, up to 2/3’s of persons released from prison will return to prison. The transition from prison to life is shocking. A lot of times, when persons are used to community living (like jail/prison), it’s hard to transition to individual living. A lot of people don’t know how to make this transition. Furthermore, in some people, the fight or flight instinct is so developed that it’s their go-to. A lot of freed prisoners aren’t sure how to act when they return to the work and educational settings of society—if they are even granted those opportunities. As a result, many persons shut down, fight, or leave. Unfortunately, persons who work in rehabilitation are not valued—especially with funding. This is where the church must come in. We must work in areas of prevention, treatment, and mediation to first keep persons out of prison and to second help persons who have been jailed slowly transition back to society. The church has the unique ability to succeed in prison ministry by continuously showing up. We have the unique ability to provide the structure and routine that so many people need. This may be difficult. And it may get messy. But the church can make a huge difference in helping persons live truly free.
It’s difficult to see people not cooperating. It’s difficult to listen to people complain about one another and not know when/how to speak. Yet sometimes in the ministry, we treat others as adversaries—especially when it comes to the issues of funding and volunteers. Sometimes in ministry, defenses immediately go up when someone talks about the needs of his/her ministry and we become protective of our own. Yet. God cooperates with all who seek to follow God’s plan of redemption for this world. And. God does not try to coerce or guilt us into joining God’s mission.
In every class, there are five students who love us, five students who hate us, and twenty-five students who are neutral. We, as teachers, must show up for all of them, yes. But we must show up especially for the twenty-five who are neutral. The ones who love us probably don’t really love us so we can’t allow them to falsely boost our egos. The ones who hate us probably don’t really hate us so we can’t allow them to falsely tear us down. The ones in the middle are the ones who willingly journey with and learn alongside us. The ones in the middle are the ones who balance out the extremes and keep us sane.
One of the biggest challenges we face in ministry is being a differentiated self while remaining connected to the system.
Everyone is trying to survive. We never know what’s going on in people’s lives.
Even when it seems that God is not working, God is. There is always hope in God’s redemptive story.
We must experience a lot of Good Fridays and Holy Saturdays before we arrive at Easter.
Often, it’s the sighs and groans from the Spirit that remind us that we’re here for a reason. Sometimes all we can hear and all we can give are the sighs and groans.
Peace isn’t part of the gospel. It is the gospel. It’s what Jesus, Prince of Peace, called us to. It is assumed in Christianity: We are peacemakers. Yet. We can all be very violent in ways that don’t involve hitting or shooting one another. And peace is not the same as complacency. Sometimes peace involves action.
Only speak if what you have to say will add to the silence.
At this time in your life, which of these points resonates most with you?
Monday, June 3, 2013
A Graduation Sermon I Can Actually Remember
Yesterday was graduation Sunday at church. The graduates marched in, were celebrated, worshipped, and marched out. The sermon for the day was also addressed to them.
Our pastor has been out for the past two Sundays because of a car accident that injured his wife, so he asked my dad if he’d fill in for him yesterday. Being the preacher that he is—down to his bones—my dad agreed.
He explained to me his message on Saturday as we rode to my nephew’s soccer game, but I didn’t quite get it until he stood up to preach yesterday.
His message was simple yet wise.
One Truth: There is one God and we know that God through Jesus Christ.
Two Questions:
• What, in heaven’s name, is going on down here?
• What in the hell is going on around here?
Three Words of Advice:
• Be truthful.
• Be trustworthy.
• Inasmuch as possible, live debt-free.
Point One explains itself. In a world where we are surrounded by so many gods, there is but one God, and we know that God most fully through Jesus Christ. We can never fully understand God, but we can love the God who is love through the love of Christ.
Point Two was borrowed from this year’s Campbell University Divinity School graduation. God is at work around us but so is evil. Where there are glimpses of heaven—the presence of God and everything good—there are also glimpses of hell—the absence of God and anything redeeming. In the words of Mad-Eye Moody from Harry Potter, we must exercise constant vigilance and be mindful of both heaven and hell around us. [No. My dad didn’t mention Mad-Eye Moody in his sermon, but he did watch the second Harry Potter with my nephews and me on Saturday night!]
Point Three may seem somewhat random—especially the third word of advice—but it comes from where dad felt God leading. Honesty is important in a world of lies. Trustworthiness is key to healthy relationships. And living debt-free is essential to being free to serve as God calls. Are living truthfully, trustworthily, and debt-free difficult? Absolutely. None of those issues are always black and white. Knowing when to share hard news, knowing when to ask for help, knowing when to take a financial risk…all of those things get tricky. But inasmuch as possible, with the guidance of God’s spirit, truthfulness, trustworthiness, and debt-free living (which includes tithes and offerings) are key to living as whole individuals in Christ.
I heard a valedictory address this year that I also remember. The main point was to live in the present rather than getting caught in the past and future. What a beautiful challenge—to accept that life is in the every-day journey and to make the most of what we have now instead of focusing on what is to come and final destinations.
And I heard this sermon yesterday that I’ll likely not forget, and it’s not just because my dad preached it: one point, two questions, three words of advice.
What graduation messages have you heard recently? And what messages stick out to you?
Our pastor has been out for the past two Sundays because of a car accident that injured his wife, so he asked my dad if he’d fill in for him yesterday. Being the preacher that he is—down to his bones—my dad agreed.
He explained to me his message on Saturday as we rode to my nephew’s soccer game, but I didn’t quite get it until he stood up to preach yesterday.
His message was simple yet wise.
One Truth: There is one God and we know that God through Jesus Christ.
Two Questions:
• What, in heaven’s name, is going on down here?
• What in the hell is going on around here?
Three Words of Advice:
• Be truthful.
• Be trustworthy.
• Inasmuch as possible, live debt-free.
Point One explains itself. In a world where we are surrounded by so many gods, there is but one God, and we know that God most fully through Jesus Christ. We can never fully understand God, but we can love the God who is love through the love of Christ.
Point Two was borrowed from this year’s Campbell University Divinity School graduation. God is at work around us but so is evil. Where there are glimpses of heaven—the presence of God and everything good—there are also glimpses of hell—the absence of God and anything redeeming. In the words of Mad-Eye Moody from Harry Potter, we must exercise constant vigilance and be mindful of both heaven and hell around us. [No. My dad didn’t mention Mad-Eye Moody in his sermon, but he did watch the second Harry Potter with my nephews and me on Saturday night!]
Point Three may seem somewhat random—especially the third word of advice—but it comes from where dad felt God leading. Honesty is important in a world of lies. Trustworthiness is key to healthy relationships. And living debt-free is essential to being free to serve as God calls. Are living truthfully, trustworthily, and debt-free difficult? Absolutely. None of those issues are always black and white. Knowing when to share hard news, knowing when to ask for help, knowing when to take a financial risk…all of those things get tricky. But inasmuch as possible, with the guidance of God’s spirit, truthfulness, trustworthiness, and debt-free living (which includes tithes and offerings) are key to living as whole individuals in Christ.
I heard a valedictory address this year that I also remember. The main point was to live in the present rather than getting caught in the past and future. What a beautiful challenge—to accept that life is in the every-day journey and to make the most of what we have now instead of focusing on what is to come and final destinations.
And I heard this sermon yesterday that I’ll likely not forget, and it’s not just because my dad preached it: one point, two questions, three words of advice.
What graduation messages have you heard recently? And what messages stick out to you?
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