Emergency Lights

 

I went to Lidl yesterday per my normal Sunday morning routine, 

Only the trip wasn’t normal because 

The lights were out! 

As I rounded the corner to go inside, 

I hesitated,

Wondering if they were even open, 

Until I saw the sign that said,

“Lighting issue. We are aware and working on it.”

And so I went in to shop. 

Only the emergency lights were on,

Not the fluorescent overheads that usually light the store, 

And yet there was just enough light to see. 

 

Life is difficult. 

Real people have real problems that are not easily solved 

And the world seems dark: 

Sickness and disease. 

Divorce and single parenting. 

Eating disorders and mental health issues. 

Economic hardship and job insecurity. 

Political and racial tensions. 

Death and dying. 

Being trapped and feeling resentment. 

The darkness is real. 

But so is the light. 

 

It may not be a fluorescent light that makes everything bright, 

But an emergency light is always shining 

And providing just enough light to see. 

A smile. 

A hug.

A cardinal. 

A rainbow. 

A meal paid for in the drive thru. 

A check received in the mail. 

A text. 

A phone call. 

A letter in the mail. 

A visit from a friend.

 

May we be a people aware of lighting issues 

In the lives of those around us, 

And may we work on them

Through our very presence, 

Grounded in emergency light 

And love. 

 

Amen. 

Do The Work

It’s okay to like 

State more than Carolina. 

It’s okay to like 

Brussels sprouts more than broccoli. 

It’s even okay to not like broccoli at all. 

 

Opinions don’t matter on things that 

Ultimately don’t matter 

But 

Opinions do matter in things that 

Deal with the dignity of human life. 

 

White is not better than black or brown,

Male not better than female,

Straight not better than gay,

American not better than any other nationality,

Neurotypical not better than neurodivergent, and 

Able bodied not better than non able bodied. 

 

Some afford privilege, yes. 

But privilege does not mean 

Better than. 

 

And to stand in harsh judgment of,

Demean, 

Or treat poorly 

Persons fundamentally born different

Is not okay. 

 

It’s not easy overcoming stereotypes. 

It’s not easy examining prejudice and admitting where you are wrong. 

But common humanity challenges us to do the work. 

And it just might be life’s highest call. 

 

Oh God,

Help us to know the difference between

Harmless opinion and 

Harmful belief. 

Help us to examine ourselves 

And to see where we need to grow. 

And then help us to do the work 

Of letting go. 

 

Amen. 

 

Deconstructing Faith

 

For over fifteen years

I wholeheartedly and unapologetically

Devoted my life to empowering women, 

Especially young women, 

On their faith journeys.

I worked with an organization whose primary focus is women

And how women can use their lives to serve others on mission.

I lived, breathed, and dreamed my work with the organization 

And I believed in it so much that I chose to ignore a blaring truth:

The organization’s primary ministry partner 

Ultimately does not support women. 

 

I believed that the good outweighed the bad. 

I believed that women needed a challenging yet encouraging voice of support from within. 

I believed that I could stand in the middle between conservative and liberal beliefs. 

I believed that I could make a difference. 

And I did.

I know that. 

 

But I have come to realize that the biggest difference that was made

Was not me on the system,

But the system on me.

 

After years and years and years

Of overtly and covertly hearing and seeing

That women are inferior to men,

That women can serve in churches but not be the pastor,

That women must be submissive to their husbands no matter the cost,

That Christians should hate the sin but love the sinner,

That other religions are bad and wrong,

That Christianity is a conquest, 

That we will one day be held accountable for the souls we saved, 

That humankind is wretched and depraved and that we are nothing save for the blood of Jesus Christ,

I realized that there had to be more to the narrative. 

 

I realized that the extremely damning and negative view I had of myself 

Was suffocating and causing me to live in fear and shame and resentment.

And that’s not how I believed God wanted 

me to live.

 

Deconstructing faith is hard. 

Naming the beliefs that have influenced us, and realizing that they no longer jive with who we have become is challenging. 

This is the questioning stage of faith, 

When faith becomes our own, 

And when we no longer simply associate with the groups that have formed us. 

 

For all those years,

I did my best with the information and experience that I had.

But when the system is trying to control you and hold power over you

Through micro aggressions masked as morals and absolute truth

It’s hard to know that you need to break free.

 

May we all break free from the chains that bind 

And the deep rooted systems that try to tell us that we are less than because of 

Gender, race, sexual orientation, nationality, socioeconomic status, education level, or anything else that does not fit the 1950’s American dream. 

 

God is so much bigger than we make God

And God‘s love is so much deeper than we can comprehend.

May we learn to empower others with that love and 

May we be exactly who God made us to be—

Without a glass ceiling of limits.

 

Amen.

One Letter

 

A few months ago,

I saw a friend’s Facebook post about an interest meeting for a mission trip to Belize.

Something stirred within me and

I found myself at the meeting the next day.

After listening to the trip leader talk passionately about the work he’s been doing in the area for well over a decade,

And after asking quite a few questions to make sure the trip did not conflict with my theological beliefs,

I found myself agreeing to go on the trip.

 

We will be a team of four,

Traveling in July,

I will be the only female,

And we will be doing construction work,

Which is odd for me,

Because I’m not known for my construction prowess,

Although I have become pretty good with a hammer!

 

For months,

I didn’t hear anything about the trip.

I was becoming anxious knowing so little and wondering so much,

So I finally wrote my friend to check in and ask for information.

“Have you not been getting the team lead’s e-mails?” he asked.

“No.” I responded. “I’ve heard nothing.”

“Ahhhhhh,” he said. “No wonder you haven’t responded.”

 

The team lead had the wrong e-mail address.

 

Instead of dldeaton, he had dideaton.

 

A seemingly minor mistake,

But a huge error when it comes to vital communication.

 

My inbox now has a handful of messages from the team lead.

I know how much I owe ($1500) and I know how to make it through customs.

I have my medical form to fill out and I see which shots I need to take.

Now…

I wait…

And I pray…

And I ask you to pray with me, too.

For a great trip,

A safe trip,

Smooth travels,

Funding,

Safety on the work sight,

Good health,

No sickness or injury,

Good fellowship that transcends language barriers,

Comfortable weather,

Clean water,

Non-infectious mosquitoes,

And God’s love to be seen and felt through word, deed, and action.

 

Amen.

Sarah

 

I don’t remember her name. 

I think it was Sarah, but I can’t be sure. 

But she made an impact on my life over 20 years ago,

And I will forever be grateful. 

 

I met her at an Episcopal retreat weekend. 

I had signed up for the retreat because I was a big fan of the worship leader.

When I got to the retreat center, though,

I learned that the worship leader wasn’t going to be there. 

The person we will call Sarah was in charge of the weekend.

She gave me the choice to stay or to have my money refunded. 

I chose to stay. 

Why not?

After all, I was already there. 

 

If I were pressed to tell you what the focus of that retreat was, 

Then I wouldn’t be able to do it. 

All I remember is that we shared communion on Saturday night, 

Passed the common cup, 

And drank real wine. 

It was the first time I’d ever had real wine with communion. 

It was disgusting! 

All the Episcopalians laughed with me at my face when I tasted it. 

They also all laughed when I was surprised that they were having beer and wine during their fellowship time. 

Alcohol on a retreat was unheard of for me, 

The lone Baptist. 

 

I don’t know if she felt sorry for me or what, 

But Sarah went out of her way to befriend me that weekend

And to make sure I was as comfortable as possible in unfamiliar territory. 

After the weekend ended,

Sarah and I kept in touch via email, 

Which I suppose is how she told me about Glory Ridge. 

 

Glory Ridge is a retreat center outside Marshall, NC, 

That hosts youth groups during the summer 

And sends them into surrounding areas to do construction work. 

There is a small camp staff each summer 

And they happened to need one more person in 2004.

Did I have any construction experience? 

No. 

Was I at all prepared to sleep on the dirty floor of a little shed with no running water, barely any electricity, and mice?

No. 

But did it matter?

No. 

Sarah believed in me and my gifts,

So I went to serve on staff at Glory Ridge anyway. 

And I had a wonderful summer.

 

That summer,

I learned that a shower is a privilege rather than a necessity. 

I was introduced to the concept of being present and living fully in the moment. 

I became a fan of wind chimes.

And I began an ecumenical journey that would eventually lead me outside the narrow confines of religion

And into the open arms of faith.

 

And it’s all because of a person whose name I don’t even remember,

But whose presence of kindness, generosity, and openness changed my life.

 

May we be a people whose names may not be remembered

But whose legacies are passed down from person to person,

Generation to generation.

 

May we be a people who open doors of faith.

 

Amen.

Holding the Faith

 

I spent a lot of time in the chapel when I was at Meredith.

From worship services to meetings to handbell practices,

I was there quite a bit.

I loved looking at the cross made by the organ pipes

And I felt safe in the quiet of her sacred space.

 

Neither of those things has changed.

 

I visited the chapel twice yesterday,

And I sat in her space for over four hours.

 

In the morning,

I had the privilege of leading a little choir of three

As they sang the anthem during the Meredith alumnae worship service.

I heard a moving Pentecost sermon that reminded me of the importance of breath,

Of the sigh,

And that helped me reframe my many sighs of late not as points of worry or consternation but

As prayers too deep for words.

I was challenged to “be a breath of fresh air in a suffocating world,”

And I was reminded that sometimes

It is the people who love us who hold faith for us when we can’t.

 

In the afternoon,

I had the honor of listening to Amelia-The-Niece

Sing with her girls choir.

My heart almost burst with pride as she sang two solos,

And my eyes were moved to tears as the group surrounded the audience and sang,

“Even when the dark comes crashing through
When you need a friend to carry you
And when you're broken on the ground
You will be found.”

It was a powerful performance,

And a great reminder that sometimes

It is the people who love us who hold faith for us and carry us through.

 

These days, heartache is palpable.

Complicated grief.

Childhood and religious trauma.

Abuse and neglect.

Broken relationships.

Struggling to make ends meet.

Not feeling loved or important.

Not feeling seen.

Living in fear.

 

Whatever the hurt,

It is there in all of us,

And it is real,

And it requires safety and light and breath

To make it through.

 

We may not all be able to sit in a literal safe space

Like I had the privilege of doing over the weekend.

 

So in its stead,

May each of us,

As best as we can,

Be that safe space for one another,

Holding faith,

And carrying one another through

With sighs and prayers and groans too deep for words.

 

May each of us,

Truly,

Breathe life into this dying world.

 

Amen.