Common Courtesy

 

Months ago, 

I was getting gas at the corner gas station 

When two guys drove up and asked the store worker 

If they could throw a large box into the store‘s dumpster. 

It was evidently a heavy box because it took both guys to throw it in the bin,

But they simply threw it away and left,

All while I was pumping my gas. 

 

I have no idea why I remember this moment so vividly. 

Yet every day when I drive by the gas station,

I think about it. 

 

I’ve never once questioned what was in the box, 

Although that might be an interesting brainstorm. 

I think I just thought it nice that they asked

Before throwing their trash into the dumpster.

I imagine that a lot of people have trash to throw away

That won’t fit into the garbage bins that trash pick-up companies use.

And I imagine that most people don’t have memberships at the dump.

So I imagine that a lot of people use commercial dumpsters unauthorized.

Yet, these guys thought to ask.

A common courtesy, I suppose. 

And I guess maybe why their actions stuck out to me so much. 

 

As a society, 

It seems that we’re moving away from common courtesy 

And into rugged individualism. 

We seem more and more concerned about ourselves and our own needs and rights 

Than the needs of those around us. 

 

It’s wearing headphones or turning the volume down when you’re in a waiting room and watching your phone.

It’s holding the door for someone behind you.

It’s asking someone their opinion rather than dominating the conversation.

It’s letting the person behind you go ahead of you in line if they only have one or two things and you have a full cart.

It’s not leaning your chair back completely when you’re on a plane.

 

It’s not posting your first response of anger or engaging in malicious arguments on social media.

It’s refusing to spread a rumor or deciding to set facts straight when misinformation is being shared. 

It’s realizing that you have room to grow and that there is always another side to the story.

It’s simple things that don’t necessarily cost money. 

It’s common humanity that doesn’t sacrifice the core values of love and respect. 

 

May we be people of common courtesy and respect

Who remember our common humanity 

And our call to be good stewards of the earth and of one another. 

 

Amen. 

Trinity God

      

 

Imagine God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity.

Imagine God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.

Imagine God the Creator, Jesus the Redeemer, and Spirit the Sustainer.

Imagine God in community with Godself, existing together in love so deep that it overflows.

 

Imagine Trinity God deciding to create the world out of an outpouring of that Love.

Imagine Trinity God creating humankind with which to share the community of Love.

Imagine Trinity God weeping when humanity continually strayed from Love.

Imagine Trinity God deciding to come in flesh and blood, not because Trinity God had to but because Trinity God wanted to out of deep sorrow and the overflowing love of community.

 

Imagine Jesus coming to earth as a boy who had to learn to crawl and walk and talk and work.

Imagine Jesus living into everything humanity could be, freely offering the love that made him decide to put on skin.

Imagine Jesus being killed because he made church leaders mad when he welcomed everyone to his table.

Imagine Jesus looking at his disciples with sheer compassion as he told them goodbye, died, and greeted them again.

 

Imagine God the Father and God the Holy Spirit weeping as part of them was beaten.

Imagine God the Father and God the Holy Spirit comforting Jesus as he writhed in pain.

Imagine God the Father and God the Holy Spirit breathing new life into Jesus’s bones.

 

Imagine humanity getting it wrong.

Imagine humanity missing the point.

Imagine humanity not seeing the nose on its face.

 

God is love!

God is love!!

God is love!!!

 

Oh God, help us see and feel that love as it overflows from the very core of your being.

 

Amen.

The Word of God

The way I understand it,

The Word of God is alive and active.

It is not a static Bible to be read as a dictionary or rule book.

It is a dynamic text to be read by the guidance of the Holy Spirit,

In the context of community,

God’s body on earth,

With the same Jesus as the head

As the Jesus who is considered the Word himself,

Alive in the beginning,

And still alive and creating today.

 

The biblical Word of God should be read with an understanding of historical context,

As an overarching whole,

Centered on the main themes of God’s love, grace, and redemption

Throughout all generations.

 

When possible, the biblical Word of God should not be read in isolation,

And never should the biblical Word of God be used to proof-text beliefs.

Read like this, the biblical Word of God becomes a weapon for harm

Instead of a tool for guiding and building God’s Kingdom.

 

The Word of God is more powerful than the words written on the pages of the Bible

That was curated and canonized by humans many thousand years ago.

The Word of God is alive and active today,

In 21^st Century America and beyond,

Still speaking,

Still guiding,

Still working, and

Still creating

In ways that may surprise some of God’s people.

Whiplash

And we’ve hit a brick wall
A wreck
Whiplash

Life as we knew it, no more
A crash
Change

We see it,
Horrified.
We watch it,
Terrified.
We observe it,
Petrified.
Yet we move through it
Stupefied
Because we must.

We must go on.

So we’ve hit a brick wall
A wreck
Whiplash

Life as we knew it, no more
A crash
Change

We are in pain,
Displaced.
We feel lost,
Uncertain.
We know little,
No control.
Yet we move through it
Determined
Because we must.

We must go on.

Past the wreckage.

To something new.

Together.

Land of Plenty

We live in a land of plenty. If one ever doubts this fact, then all she has to do is turn on HGTV and watch its programming for a couple of hours. Granted, our plenty is not equally distributed and too many of us take for granted the backs on which our plenty stands, but that is a note for another night.

A few weeks ago, during my Saturday Sabbath, my mom and I stumbled onto a Tiny House Marathon. Ever since that day, I’ve been turning on HGTV to try to find another Tiny House Marathon. In the process, I’ve found myself watching a plethora of different shows—and talking to the TV quite a bit, almost always making the wrong decision when given a choice between house 1, 2, or 3.

Last night during a few of the rare moments that I’ve been awake this Memorial Day Weekend—I’ve been trying to beat a chest cold that settled in at the end of last week—I found myself watching a beachfront property show where the couple was looking for a new home for their family. The husband and wife were both lawyers and their budget was between two and three million dollars. Yes, million. When talking about their children, the couple said that the kids were, “energetic, especially the boy.” When interacting with the kids, the couple was very awkward. And when talking about how happy they were with their new home, the couple was playing tennis, marveling about how much less stress they feel with their new life, and how happy they are to have made the move—and their children were nowhere to be seen.

Evidently, this show bothered me so much that I dreamed about it. In my dream, I met the nanny who quite clearly was the person raising the children and said, “I knew it. I knew that they had a nanny. I knew that they were hands-off parents and that those segments were staged.” In my dream, too, the boy was identified autistic, which I would wager money that he, in real life, should be but that he will not be because his parents will not want the diagnosis.

I know. I’m sounding very judgmental and investing a lot of emotional energy into something far beyond my reality. But I can’t seem to get it off my mind. Maybe I’m jealous of the money and properties and wishing that I could have three million dollars to invest in a tropical island home. But I don’t think that’s it. I think I’m bothered by how expendable the children seemed in that segment—and in other segments as well. Today, for instance, a couple opted to spend their “nanny budget” on a beachfront property and to push back their efficiency date of having a child exactly one year and nine months.

Another thing I’ve been quietly reflecting on is the fact that no one—on any of the shows that I’ve seen—ever—has spoken about finding a home—huge or tiny—permanent or vacation—that is close to any kind of place of worship. Space for entertaining, amazing views, making the most of life, de-stressing, being within walking distance of shops and bars, granite countertops and open floor plans, living environmentally friends—I’ve heard a lot about those. But having somewhere to do yoga is the closest I’ve come to hearing anything about faith—and this may have had less to do with faith and spirituality and more to do with flexibility and good health. Maybe it’s a network editing rule. I don’t know. But faith and faith communities seem a non-priority on these shows. And this, too, bothers me.

We live in a land of plenty. We have so very, very much. Even our tiny houses are bigger and nicer than many homes around the world. Yet when our plenty causes us to lose site of our children and to live life to our present fullest with little to no thought of leaving the world a better place, is our plenty worth it?

Dear God, we come to you tonight aware of the many good things that life has given—and the many people who have died to make these good things possible. Help us to turn our plenty into so much more than we can imagine and to devote our lives—our time, devotion, talents, and resources—not just to living our lives to the fullest but to helping others live their lives to the fullest as well. Children, teenagers, adults. Body, soul, mind, spirit, and strength.--Amen.

Worth Packing The Pew

Yesterday at church, we celebrated Ms. Hortense’s 90th Birthday. Ms. Hortense is a faithful member of Antioch and helps make Antioch the loving church that it is today. Ms. Hortense always greets people with a huge hug and smile and in so doing brings a smile to many faces.

Evidently, Ms. Hortense has deemed the song “Lord Don’t Move That Mountain” as “her” song, so during the 10:50 service the talented Marie Allen sang the song as part of worship.

I couldn’t see Ms. Hortense while Marie was singing, but my friend Danielle could. Danielle’s family has recently started attended church and they have chosen their pew midway back on the right. They sit with my friend Kelli whose family has also started attending…and my friend Laura who started the whole trend. They all sit on the same pew. At least 11 people. It’s a packed pew. But I digress.

Danielle’s commentary on the event was this:

Like total saps, when Marie sang, Ms. Hortense’s friend rubbed her back. The site of her friend’s old arthritic fingers rubbing her back struck Mike and I and we both started to cry.
The whole row of ladies could likely teach the world a thing or two.

I responded:

That’s a beautiful image—the old ladies’ hands…I started to cry at the end of the service when she was standing up front with Patrick.

Seeing a 90-year-old woman of faith, who indeed could teach us a thing or two, stand arm in arm with a pastor one third her age, whom she is allowing to teach her, was quite touching. Hearing her declare, “The Lord has guided me so far and I trust he will continue to guide me in the future,” and hearing him pray a special prayer of blessing over Ms. Hortense’s life brought tears to my eyes…which isn’t good when you’re standing in front of the entire congregation.

Arthritic hands rubbing hunched backs.
The young and old standing arm and arm.
A community of faith celebrating 90 years of life.
For all that the church is not,
For the many things we do wrong,
This is what the church is,
This is what the church does right.
And it’s beautiful.
And it’s good.
And it’s that which is worth packing the pew.

A Fast And A Conversation

A Fast, A Conversation, and A Poem…9.16.13

Well folks. I did it. I took off one week (minus two hours for a preplanned chat) from Facebook and I survived. I didn’t cheat. I didn’t even break the fast first thing yesterday morning. Strangely enough, I didn’t even think about it until the pastor mentioned it at worship. Maybe it’s because I started the fast last Sunday night? Maybe it’s because I couldn’t make myself get out of bed and was therefore running late for church? Maybe it’s because I’d gotten out of the habit? I actually think it might be the latter because I haven’t been on Facebook today…even though I got an e-mail about the thousands of notifications that I’ve missed.

And what did I do instead of getting online? I lay in bed and prayed first thing in the morning. I paid more attention to what was happening in the rooms I was in during the day. (If nothing was happening, I sat in the silence.) I shopped for major deals in the evenings. I sat with Bullet and/or cleaned during the nights. I visited friends and family on the weekend. I made a new friend. I thought about what was and wasn’t important to share with the world. I realized just how dependent society had become at communicating through Facebook—especially about dates, times, and events. I wrote three poems. I worked on a song that I can’t seem to finish. I prayed for my students. And I waited impatiently to be able to share my favorite conversation of the week. So here goes:

Me: You’re supposed to rest on Sunday, Mrs. Effie. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to go to church and then I’m going to rest. But tonight I’m going to go home and clean the garage for mom and dad and take care of Bullet.

Mrs. Effie: That’s why I like you so much, Sweetpie.

(I’m thinking, “Because I like dogs?”)

Mrs. Effie (continuing): You’re kind. You love your family. You love the church. And you love black people.

Me (a bit surprised by her statement but grinning from ear to ear and nodding in agreement): Well. Yes. Yes I do.

Mrs. Effie: You love black people. White people. Any color people. It doesn’t matter. You just love people.

Me: Yes. I do. And I. Love. YOU.

Mrs. Effie (grinning): And I. Love. YOU.

Prayer Puzzles

The 75% off sale at Barnes and Noble got me. It sucked me into the possibility of buying gifts for considerably less than I could buy them anywhere else. And so I bought. Books. Bud vases. Games. Puzzles. Mugs. Cups. And more.

I’m planning to keep most of the gifts for special occasions: birthdays, beginning of the school year,anniversaries, Christmas, etc. I’ve even updated my “Gifts Purchased But Not Yet Given” spreadsheet so that I won’t forget what I have to give.

But I’ve already given away one of the gifts and prepared another for the giving. My friend Ke is the recipient of both of these gifts because they are butterfly themed and butterflies mean a lot to her. They are a symbol of transformation and hope for what it is to come.

The first gift was a cup. She lit up when I gave it to her. She asked me to place it where she could see it and declared that she was going to use it.

The second gift is a puzzle. My aunt, mom, and I began putting it together last Tuesday night, and my mom and I finished it Sunday morning at 2:10am. My mom declares I wouldn't let her go to bed, but I think she willingly stayed. Puzzles can suck you in! I literally slept, ate, and worked on the puzzle all day Saturday. Nothing else. And with each piece of the puzzle, I prayed for Ke so that when the puzzle was complete it was full of both beauty and prayer. Now, we only must glue it before presenting it to Ke.

I’ve heard of a wide variety of prayers groups. Of quilting groups, crocheting and knitting groups, blanket-making groups, and others. Yet I’ve never heard of a puzzle group. But why not? Why not choose a specific puzzle for someone who needs prayer—something that holds meaning for the future recipient or something generic if the intended recipient is unknown? Why not gather together a group of persons to work together to create something beautiful—to fellowship together in community while forming a tangible prayer? What’s more? You don’t have to be crafty whatsoever to put together a puzzle. Puzzle making uses different skills than crafting—different parts of the brain—and so it could reach a different demographic of people.

I’m away in the mountains this week. I’m acting as chaperone and worship leader for a 3rd-6thgrade children’s camp. I can’t do anything more with the puzzle while I’m away, yet every time I close my eyes, I see the beautiful picture prayer that my aunt, mom, and I worked together to create—often giving each other a high-five when we finally placed a piece—and I smile…knowing that it was pieced together with prayer and love for a friend whose life has deeply blessed my soul.