My dad and I almost walked down the aisle beside each other yesterday…but we were too big to fit side-by-side so I sent him ahead and walked behind him with my hand on his arm. Big Rev and Little Rev co-officiated a wedding for the first time, and I couldn’t be prouder to have stood by his side.
As we prepared for the wedding, my dad introduced me to a prayer of blessing that he has used at a couple of his weddings. The prayer pretty much summarizes everything that he wishes for the couple…and it also summarizes pretty much everything that I hope for myself and those around me.
After some edits, the prayer reads as follows. I pray that you will feel it being prayed over you right now, friend, for you are loved.
“Bless us, oh God, as we continue our journey down life’s road. We don’t know what lies ahead, for the road turns and bends. But help us make the best of whatever comes our way.
Help us to always remember that nothing or no one is perfect and to look for the good in all things and all people—including ourselves. Help us, too, to enjoy those around us.
Help us to respect other person’s likes and dislikes, opinions and beliefs, and hopes and fears, even when we do not understand them.
Help us to learn from those around us and to help each other grow mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.
Help us to create peaceful, stable spaces of love to serve foundations on which our children can build their lives.
Help us hold to our loved ones and to know that, no matter what happens, things have a way of working out for the good.
And most of all, dear God, help us to love without ceasing so that our lives may be shining examples of your love to everyone we meet.
We love you. So much. Amen.”
Monday, May 13, 2019
Thursday, May 9, 2019
It Takes Everyone
Confession: I am a Battle of the Books dropout.
For those who may not know, Battle of the Books is a trivia-like competition for students who enjoy reading. The NC School Library Media Association publishes a list of books to be read and studied each year. Various persons then write fact-recall questions about the books and different schools select teams of students to compete again other teams in answering said questions. Teams have no idea what the questions will be until they hear them at the competition.
I started reading this year’s Battle of the Books books at the end of last year. I read a handful of the books and had every intention of completing the entire list…but…I didn’t. I somehow managed to run into a brick wall of anti-reading, and I’ve yet to overcome the wall.
Not reading all of the books = disqualified from the Battle of the Books team = Deanna disqualifying herself as a coach. I, Deanna Deaton, am a Battle of the Books dropout.
But that doesn’t mean I didn’t help with this year’s competition.
It sounds small, I know, and it really is small in comparison to the hours of practice that the team and coaches put into this year’s competition, but I provided the plants for stage decorations and the microphones for the sound system at this year’s countywide competition.
The coaches were hoping to rent some stage decorations, but the rental fell through. I always buy my mom plants for Mother’s Day, so I decided to buy the plants early this year and loan them to Battle of the Books. [Happy Mother’s Day, mom :-D!]
I used to sing in a band. At the height of our career, we bought our own microphones. I have six microphones that now sit in a closet at home. We have no decent microphones at school. I was asked to set up the sound system, so I decided to bring my microphones from home so that the sound would be consistent between teams. I figured that the microphones are much more useful at school for two days than they are in the closet at home.
Like I said, I know that these two things are really small in the scheme of the entire event. Yet they needed to happen. And I could fill the needs. So why not step up and play my part?
The truth is, friends, everything is a sum of its parts. None of us stands completely alone. Ever. Sometimes, our role in an event or happening is as big as coordinating or coaching. Other times it’s as small as providing plants and microphones. Regardless, we each have our roles to play—gifts and talents to offer—things that we can do to help those around us—support that we can give—solutions that we can offer if we will but take a few minutes to see what they are. And I don’t know why, but this truth is especially good news to me today.
I may be a Battle of the Books dropout, but I’m also a Battle of the Books supporter. I did what I could to lead to today’s victory for our school. That’s right—my team won! And I couldn’t be prouder to have been a part of it all.
“ For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully. Love must be sincere.” Romans 12:3-9
For those who may not know, Battle of the Books is a trivia-like competition for students who enjoy reading. The NC School Library Media Association publishes a list of books to be read and studied each year. Various persons then write fact-recall questions about the books and different schools select teams of students to compete again other teams in answering said questions. Teams have no idea what the questions will be until they hear them at the competition.
I started reading this year’s Battle of the Books books at the end of last year. I read a handful of the books and had every intention of completing the entire list…but…I didn’t. I somehow managed to run into a brick wall of anti-reading, and I’ve yet to overcome the wall.
Not reading all of the books = disqualified from the Battle of the Books team = Deanna disqualifying herself as a coach. I, Deanna Deaton, am a Battle of the Books dropout.
But that doesn’t mean I didn’t help with this year’s competition.
It sounds small, I know, and it really is small in comparison to the hours of practice that the team and coaches put into this year’s competition, but I provided the plants for stage decorations and the microphones for the sound system at this year’s countywide competition.
The coaches were hoping to rent some stage decorations, but the rental fell through. I always buy my mom plants for Mother’s Day, so I decided to buy the plants early this year and loan them to Battle of the Books. [Happy Mother’s Day, mom :-D!]
I used to sing in a band. At the height of our career, we bought our own microphones. I have six microphones that now sit in a closet at home. We have no decent microphones at school. I was asked to set up the sound system, so I decided to bring my microphones from home so that the sound would be consistent between teams. I figured that the microphones are much more useful at school for two days than they are in the closet at home.
Like I said, I know that these two things are really small in the scheme of the entire event. Yet they needed to happen. And I could fill the needs. So why not step up and play my part?
The truth is, friends, everything is a sum of its parts. None of us stands completely alone. Ever. Sometimes, our role in an event or happening is as big as coordinating or coaching. Other times it’s as small as providing plants and microphones. Regardless, we each have our roles to play—gifts and talents to offer—things that we can do to help those around us—support that we can give—solutions that we can offer if we will but take a few minutes to see what they are. And I don’t know why, but this truth is especially good news to me today.
I may be a Battle of the Books dropout, but I’m also a Battle of the Books supporter. I did what I could to lead to today’s victory for our school. That’s right—my team won! And I couldn’t be prouder to have been a part of it all.
“ For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully. Love must be sincere.” Romans 12:3-9
Monday, May 6, 2019
End of Year Reflection
6.6.19—End of Year Reflection
Last year at this time, I was setting up my hut for the beginning of the 2018-2019 school year. I spent a lot of money on storage containers; inventoried and organized all instruments, CDs, DVDs, and books in the classroom; and rearranged everything in the hut so that it would be ready when the school year began. I worked really hard for all of the workdays and left my classroom more prepared than at any time in my career…only to be called away from that classroom just a few weeks later.
To say that this year has flown by would be an understatement. It seems like just last week that I was sorting through an entirely new batch of music stuff, trying to make sense of what was and wasn’t at Greenwood, trying to figure out how to set up a classroom that was actually in the building, with a closet, and near a bathroom, rather than in a hut! Instead of beginning the year prepared as planned, I began the year feeling unprepared and overwhelmed by the whirlwind that was an unexpected move and by the enormity of building a music program for 650 students (and teachers and parents, too) whose names I did not know and whose stories I’d not yet learned. Yet I made it. With the help and support of my team and with grace and patience toward myself, I made it. And it was a good year. Different than I’d expected. But good nonetheless. And my classroom finally feels normal—like home away from home—it just took some time…
Time. Our greatest enemy. Our best friend.
Or as Henry Van Dyke once said, “Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.”
I am thankful that time has allowed me to settle in at Greenwood and that, as far as I know, I will have more time next year to learn more names, hear more stories, and get to love people more dearly than I already do…
Yesterday at Kindergarten graduation, one of my Kindergarteners said that his favorite part of Kindergarten was completing Kindergarten because everyone in his family had completed Kindergarten and he wanted to carry on the family tradition 😊.
I have now completed 14 years of teaching. I don’t know if I will retire from this career or if God will call me to something different. But in the meantime, in all the time in between now and then—whenever “then” is—I want to carry on a tradition of excellence for my students and coworkers. I want to know people’s names. I want to live and breathe grace and patience. I want to surround myself with good people who make good things possible. And I want to tell those people that they are loved and appreciated…through all space, eternity, and time…
Last year at this time, I was setting up my hut for the beginning of the 2018-2019 school year. I spent a lot of money on storage containers; inventoried and organized all instruments, CDs, DVDs, and books in the classroom; and rearranged everything in the hut so that it would be ready when the school year began. I worked really hard for all of the workdays and left my classroom more prepared than at any time in my career…only to be called away from that classroom just a few weeks later.
To say that this year has flown by would be an understatement. It seems like just last week that I was sorting through an entirely new batch of music stuff, trying to make sense of what was and wasn’t at Greenwood, trying to figure out how to set up a classroom that was actually in the building, with a closet, and near a bathroom, rather than in a hut! Instead of beginning the year prepared as planned, I began the year feeling unprepared and overwhelmed by the whirlwind that was an unexpected move and by the enormity of building a music program for 650 students (and teachers and parents, too) whose names I did not know and whose stories I’d not yet learned. Yet I made it. With the help and support of my team and with grace and patience toward myself, I made it. And it was a good year. Different than I’d expected. But good nonetheless. And my classroom finally feels normal—like home away from home—it just took some time…
Time. Our greatest enemy. Our best friend.
Or as Henry Van Dyke once said, “Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.”
I am thankful that time has allowed me to settle in at Greenwood and that, as far as I know, I will have more time next year to learn more names, hear more stories, and get to love people more dearly than I already do…
Yesterday at Kindergarten graduation, one of my Kindergarteners said that his favorite part of Kindergarten was completing Kindergarten because everyone in his family had completed Kindergarten and he wanted to carry on the family tradition 😊.
I have now completed 14 years of teaching. I don’t know if I will retire from this career or if God will call me to something different. But in the meantime, in all the time in between now and then—whenever “then” is—I want to carry on a tradition of excellence for my students and coworkers. I want to know people’s names. I want to live and breathe grace and patience. I want to surround myself with good people who make good things possible. And I want to tell those people that they are loved and appreciated…through all space, eternity, and time…
Markers
We had EOG test training today. Every year, at this time of year, teachers across NC gather for EOG test training. And every year the training is similar, though not always the same because information always changes.
Today, as I sat in training, it hit me that EOG test training is a marker in my life—a fixed point that I can look back upon to create a specific container of time. For instance, in between last year’s EOG trainings and today, I have been called away from both the church and school where I served for five years and instead called to Greenwood. A container of one year. So much can happen in that space…
These markers,
These yearly events,
Mark the passing of time.
They are simple reminders of what has stayed the same and
Complex announcements of all that has changed.
Every year they come
Like the seasons,
Steady,
Predictable,
Flooding the mind with sorrow and joy,
Mourning and celebration,
Extremes of life’s continuum,
And everything in between.
Markers, I think, are both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes we don’t want to remember. But sometimes, we need not to forget.
What are the markers in your life? What events always make you think back to the same event in a previous time? I’d love to hear.
Today, as I sat in training, it hit me that EOG test training is a marker in my life—a fixed point that I can look back upon to create a specific container of time. For instance, in between last year’s EOG trainings and today, I have been called away from both the church and school where I served for five years and instead called to Greenwood. A container of one year. So much can happen in that space…
These markers,
These yearly events,
Mark the passing of time.
They are simple reminders of what has stayed the same and
Complex announcements of all that has changed.
Every year they come
Like the seasons,
Steady,
Predictable,
Flooding the mind with sorrow and joy,
Mourning and celebration,
Extremes of life’s continuum,
And everything in between.
Markers, I think, are both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes we don’t want to remember. But sometimes, we need not to forget.
What are the markers in your life? What events always make you think back to the same event in a previous time? I’d love to hear.
Thursday, May 2, 2019
Going to the Car Wash
I washed my car last week.
I didn’t take it through the car wash or pay to have someone wash it for me.
I washed my car myself—at the car wash—with a lot of quarters—and the soapy brush—and the pressure washer.
Many years ago, when I taught in Angier on Tuesdays, I stopped at the car wash with my friend B every other week. We had our system down—how we would wash our cars—and we helped each other get our cars squeaky clean in the quickest way possible.
I didn’t have B with me last week, but I followed our same pattern of cleaning: pressure soap, foamy brush, rinse.
Since my car has been living outside, it acquires a lot of dirt. I could see that she was dirty last week (yes, my car is a girl) and I could see the dirt coming off of her with both the pressure soap and the foamy brush. For a moment, I considered becoming a professional pressure washer because watching the dirt and grime disappear was so satisfying, but then my hand started hurting and I quickly gave up that daydream.
As I rinsed the soap from the car, I started noticing little black pieces of dirt showing up on the newly whitened surface. Confused at first, I kept rinsing until I realized where the dirt was coming from: deep within the grooves and seals around the windows, lights, trunk, and hood.
Until that moment, I hadn’t thought much about these grooves and seals. But as soon as I started paying attention to them, I quickly realized that the pressure soaping and foamy brushing hadn’t cleaned them because the dirt and grime were so embedded. And so I started blasting them. And they started coming clean. And then my time ran out before I properly formulated the thought that I should add more quarters to clean more grooves.
So I went back the next day. And specifically attacked the places that were dirty. And I smiled the whole time because the whole process was so neat—so full of accomplishment—so cleansing…
I wonder if our lives are like this sometimes—covered with dirt and grime that we don’t even realize is there because it’s been building slowly over time.
I spoke with a friend the other night and she made the comment that she didn’t realize just how poorly she was doing until she stepped back from everything and gave herself time and space to breathe—to renew her spirit—to find the spiritual and emotional parts of herself that she had forgotten were there—and to remove all of the junk that had piled on top of them…
I saw a place that I missed on my car yesterday—a seal around a taillight—and I had to stop myself from spending more money just to blast it clean. I think I’ll wait until my car has been outside for a few weeks and then take it to the carwash again—this time knowing that I must pay attention both to the parts that are obviously dirty and to the parts that aren’t so much so—and knowing that I should examine myself and how I’m doing in the process.
Have you been to the carwash lately? Have you found some areas in your life that need some work?
I didn’t take it through the car wash or pay to have someone wash it for me.
I washed my car myself—at the car wash—with a lot of quarters—and the soapy brush—and the pressure washer.
Many years ago, when I taught in Angier on Tuesdays, I stopped at the car wash with my friend B every other week. We had our system down—how we would wash our cars—and we helped each other get our cars squeaky clean in the quickest way possible.
I didn’t have B with me last week, but I followed our same pattern of cleaning: pressure soap, foamy brush, rinse.
Since my car has been living outside, it acquires a lot of dirt. I could see that she was dirty last week (yes, my car is a girl) and I could see the dirt coming off of her with both the pressure soap and the foamy brush. For a moment, I considered becoming a professional pressure washer because watching the dirt and grime disappear was so satisfying, but then my hand started hurting and I quickly gave up that daydream.
As I rinsed the soap from the car, I started noticing little black pieces of dirt showing up on the newly whitened surface. Confused at first, I kept rinsing until I realized where the dirt was coming from: deep within the grooves and seals around the windows, lights, trunk, and hood.
Until that moment, I hadn’t thought much about these grooves and seals. But as soon as I started paying attention to them, I quickly realized that the pressure soaping and foamy brushing hadn’t cleaned them because the dirt and grime were so embedded. And so I started blasting them. And they started coming clean. And then my time ran out before I properly formulated the thought that I should add more quarters to clean more grooves.
So I went back the next day. And specifically attacked the places that were dirty. And I smiled the whole time because the whole process was so neat—so full of accomplishment—so cleansing…
I wonder if our lives are like this sometimes—covered with dirt and grime that we don’t even realize is there because it’s been building slowly over time.
I spoke with a friend the other night and she made the comment that she didn’t realize just how poorly she was doing until she stepped back from everything and gave herself time and space to breathe—to renew her spirit—to find the spiritual and emotional parts of herself that she had forgotten were there—and to remove all of the junk that had piled on top of them…
I saw a place that I missed on my car yesterday—a seal around a taillight—and I had to stop myself from spending more money just to blast it clean. I think I’ll wait until my car has been outside for a few weeks and then take it to the carwash again—this time knowing that I must pay attention both to the parts that are obviously dirty and to the parts that aren’t so much so—and knowing that I should examine myself and how I’m doing in the process.
Have you been to the carwash lately? Have you found some areas in your life that need some work?
Monday, April 29, 2019
Worth and Value
A few months ago, I found a very curious ceramic pot at the thrift store. The glaze looked old. The design was unique. I wasn’t exactly sure of the pot’s purpose. But I liked it. And I thought that it was worth the 50 cents that it cost.
Being the dreamer that I am, I hoped that the pot was old—maybe from a Native American tribe—and that it was used for something special. So I took it to Antiques Roadshow two weeks ago to find out. What I found out was that the pot was likely mass produced for a roadside stand in Mexico and sold as a tourist trinket. Furthermore, the pot is known as a puzzle pot because it is not clear exactly where liquid will come out when the pot is poured. One appraiser said that it was worth around $25. Another said that it might be worth double what I paid for it, so, $1.
While this information wasn’t what I wanted to hear, it proved exactly what I’d been thinking before attending Roadshow: An item is worth only as much as someone is willing to pay for it. The first appraiser felt like I did about the pot. It peaked his curiosity. It is unique. It looks neat. It is not something that you see every day. He turned it over in his hands quite a few times and kept looking back at it. He liked it. He would have been willing to pay $25 for the pot and to display it in his home. The second appraiser, though, saw it as a piece of junk. He quickly looked at it and gave it back to me. He wouldn’t have been willing to give his pocket change for it. Its value, then, lay not in what the pot actually was but in how it was viewed. Its value lay in the response that it evoked and the feelings that it caused to surface…
I grew up in a theological tradition that teaches that, “We are sinners but saved by grace.” For various reasons, this translated into my life as a deep hatred of myself and a belief that I was bad. Even so, I was supposed to strive to be more and more like Christ, so I did, yet since I, in my humanness, would always fail, I simply determined that I was a failure. I excelled in school and in most things that I set my mind to, yet nothing I did was ever good enough. I was worthless and my self-worth was zero.
Then I started pastoral counseling. Over the course of many long and hard months, my counselor began to give me new language and help me reframe my beliefs. I remember weeping as I began to understand that I am a person of worth and value and that I deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. Yes, I am a sinner who misses the mark all the time. Yes, I am saved by grace. But I am God’s child—I am God’s creation—and when God created God’s creation, God called it good. In fact, God loved God’s creation so much that Jesus came to live with and die for us—because we were worth it--because God values relationship, redemption, equality, dignity of human life, respect, and love enough to sacrifice everything for us…
Friends: You are God’s creation, too, and you were called good. Yes, you are sinners who frequently miss the mark. Yet you are saved by a grace that loves you and deems you worthy enough to live for and die for you—and call you friend. You were worth it. You are worth it. And God values you and your desires for light, love, peace, hope, joy, forgiveness, redemption, and resurrection enough to be in relationship with you.
I’d say that this news of worth and value is better than any news that Roadshow or anyone else could ever provide!
Being the dreamer that I am, I hoped that the pot was old—maybe from a Native American tribe—and that it was used for something special. So I took it to Antiques Roadshow two weeks ago to find out. What I found out was that the pot was likely mass produced for a roadside stand in Mexico and sold as a tourist trinket. Furthermore, the pot is known as a puzzle pot because it is not clear exactly where liquid will come out when the pot is poured. One appraiser said that it was worth around $25. Another said that it might be worth double what I paid for it, so, $1.
While this information wasn’t what I wanted to hear, it proved exactly what I’d been thinking before attending Roadshow: An item is worth only as much as someone is willing to pay for it. The first appraiser felt like I did about the pot. It peaked his curiosity. It is unique. It looks neat. It is not something that you see every day. He turned it over in his hands quite a few times and kept looking back at it. He liked it. He would have been willing to pay $25 for the pot and to display it in his home. The second appraiser, though, saw it as a piece of junk. He quickly looked at it and gave it back to me. He wouldn’t have been willing to give his pocket change for it. Its value, then, lay not in what the pot actually was but in how it was viewed. Its value lay in the response that it evoked and the feelings that it caused to surface…
I grew up in a theological tradition that teaches that, “We are sinners but saved by grace.” For various reasons, this translated into my life as a deep hatred of myself and a belief that I was bad. Even so, I was supposed to strive to be more and more like Christ, so I did, yet since I, in my humanness, would always fail, I simply determined that I was a failure. I excelled in school and in most things that I set my mind to, yet nothing I did was ever good enough. I was worthless and my self-worth was zero.
Then I started pastoral counseling. Over the course of many long and hard months, my counselor began to give me new language and help me reframe my beliefs. I remember weeping as I began to understand that I am a person of worth and value and that I deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. Yes, I am a sinner who misses the mark all the time. Yes, I am saved by grace. But I am God’s child—I am God’s creation—and when God created God’s creation, God called it good. In fact, God loved God’s creation so much that Jesus came to live with and die for us—because we were worth it--because God values relationship, redemption, equality, dignity of human life, respect, and love enough to sacrifice everything for us…
Friends: You are God’s creation, too, and you were called good. Yes, you are sinners who frequently miss the mark. Yet you are saved by a grace that loves you and deems you worthy enough to live for and die for you—and call you friend. You were worth it. You are worth it. And God values you and your desires for light, love, peace, hope, joy, forgiveness, redemption, and resurrection enough to be in relationship with you.
I’d say that this news of worth and value is better than any news that Roadshow or anyone else could ever provide!
Thursday, April 25, 2019
What If?
What if the two “men” on the Emmaus Road weren’t men at all? What if it was two women walking that journey? Of if it was a man and his wife?
Such was the question that I was faced with this morning as I stumbled around the kitchen trying to make my coffee.
A few years ago, I had the privilege of being ordained by the church where I served as youth minister for three years. During that time, the church was going through a transition period, so my ordaining pastor was the interim pastor. It just so happens that the interim pastor is a good friend of my dad’s and someone that we both respect. He holds women in high regard and believes in our capacity to minister in ways just as effective as men. This same pastor will be preaching for my dad this weekend…and the Emmaus Road will be his sermon topic…and his thoughts are the ones that left my dad wondering if we, as a whole, have been picturing the Emmaus Road wrong for two thousand years.
I just reread the account of the Emmaus Road (Luke 24:13-35). While one of the disciples is named, which leads us to believe that he was a man, the other disciple is not. We assume that his companion is a male because, well, that’s what we do when we read scripture—we’ve been programmed to read scripture through the lens of patriarchy and not to see all that women inevitably contributed to Jesus and the faith centered on him. What’s interesting to me is this part of the story:
28 As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus continued on as if he were going farther. 29 But they urged him strongly, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them.
Why couldn’t this have been a man and wife who were going home from Jerusalem? Why couldn’t this have been a man and wife offering their home to a fellow traveler? Why couldn’t this have been a man and wife to which Jesus chose to reveal himself? It’s clear that Jesus had already chosen to announce his resurrection to the women at the tomb (even though the men didn’t believe them). Why not show his true nature again to mixed company, a man and woman, who may have already been defying social norms by walking alongside the road together and treating each other as equals in conversation?
I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I suppose that the message of the story remains the same regardless of the gender of the travelers. They were confused, uncertain, a bit lost, and trying to figure things out when Jesus came and showed them the way. Isn’t that what Jesus can do for all of us if we will open our eyes and see?
Then again…maybe it does matter. Because maybe women, in so many ways, have been overlooked and underappreciated in our call and giftedness…not because scripture condemns women anymore than men but because women, too often, were just left out of the story. We were not named. We were not spoken of and yet we, with children, were there. Yes, we’ve been in the story since the very beginning and we will continue to be in the story until the very end. Truth be known, the work of the church would come to a screeching halt if women were to stop teaching, serving, and giving.
So maybe it does matter. Because maybe we need to see, again, that Jesus came for all people…man and woman, Jew and Gentile, Catholic and Protestant, rich and poor, gay and straight, black and white, single and married, adult and child, academically gifted and academically challenged, saint and sinner. Maybe we need to reminded that God speaks to, in, and through all who listen and see…and, yes, friends, that includes women.
Such was the question that I was faced with this morning as I stumbled around the kitchen trying to make my coffee.
A few years ago, I had the privilege of being ordained by the church where I served as youth minister for three years. During that time, the church was going through a transition period, so my ordaining pastor was the interim pastor. It just so happens that the interim pastor is a good friend of my dad’s and someone that we both respect. He holds women in high regard and believes in our capacity to minister in ways just as effective as men. This same pastor will be preaching for my dad this weekend…and the Emmaus Road will be his sermon topic…and his thoughts are the ones that left my dad wondering if we, as a whole, have been picturing the Emmaus Road wrong for two thousand years.
I just reread the account of the Emmaus Road (Luke 24:13-35). While one of the disciples is named, which leads us to believe that he was a man, the other disciple is not. We assume that his companion is a male because, well, that’s what we do when we read scripture—we’ve been programmed to read scripture through the lens of patriarchy and not to see all that women inevitably contributed to Jesus and the faith centered on him. What’s interesting to me is this part of the story:
28 As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus continued on as if he were going farther. 29 But they urged him strongly, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them.
Why couldn’t this have been a man and wife who were going home from Jerusalem? Why couldn’t this have been a man and wife offering their home to a fellow traveler? Why couldn’t this have been a man and wife to which Jesus chose to reveal himself? It’s clear that Jesus had already chosen to announce his resurrection to the women at the tomb (even though the men didn’t believe them). Why not show his true nature again to mixed company, a man and woman, who may have already been defying social norms by walking alongside the road together and treating each other as equals in conversation?
I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I suppose that the message of the story remains the same regardless of the gender of the travelers. They were confused, uncertain, a bit lost, and trying to figure things out when Jesus came and showed them the way. Isn’t that what Jesus can do for all of us if we will open our eyes and see?
Then again…maybe it does matter. Because maybe women, in so many ways, have been overlooked and underappreciated in our call and giftedness…not because scripture condemns women anymore than men but because women, too often, were just left out of the story. We were not named. We were not spoken of and yet we, with children, were there. Yes, we’ve been in the story since the very beginning and we will continue to be in the story until the very end. Truth be known, the work of the church would come to a screeching halt if women were to stop teaching, serving, and giving.
So maybe it does matter. Because maybe we need to see, again, that Jesus came for all people…man and woman, Jew and Gentile, Catholic and Protestant, rich and poor, gay and straight, black and white, single and married, adult and child, academically gifted and academically challenged, saint and sinner. Maybe we need to reminded that God speaks to, in, and through all who listen and see…and, yes, friends, that includes women.
Monday, April 22, 2019
It's Quiet Uptown
Despite rave reviews from friends and critics alike, I did not listen to the soundtrack from Hamilton until this year. Since listening to it, though, a day hasn’t passed that I haven’t listened to one of its most powerful songs, “It’s Quiet Uptown.” Truth be known, “It’s Quiet Uptown” is one of the most powerful songs I’ve ever heard.
I won’t attempt to explain the storyline of Hamilton or the events that lead up to the song’s presence, but I will say this: a really bad decision has been made, a heart has been betrayed, and tragedy has occurred when the song emerges from a solo voice backed by the choir and accompanied by the piano.
The first time I heard the song, I wept, and I have teared up many times since that first hearing. The whole thing is just so beautifully raw and redemptive…
…which I suppose is why it’s the first song that entered my head yesterday, on Easter Sunday.
At first, I thought it strange that this song from Hamilton was the song in my head on the highest and holiest day of the Christian year. But then I thought about it and I realized that the song embodies what Easter is all about: forgiveness, redemption, humility, hope, reconciliation, faith, and resurrection—maybe not of the body (in this instance) but of lost love, relationship, reputation, and purpose.
Yesterday after church, I wrote:
Today is
Redemption
Righteousness
Resurrection
Reconciliation
Forgiveness
Hope
Peace and
Freedom
from
death,
sin,
condemnation,
and fear.
Today is the
Kingdom of God,
The Love of God,
Right here,
Right now,
Always.
The Kingdom of God is here, friends, and we can find it wherever we look, in whatever time and space we find ourselves—including in a car while listening to a musical that we’ve put off hearing for years.
How are you experiencing Kingdom of God? When and where are you finding hope, redemption, resurrection, and reconciliation?
------
There are moments that the words don’t reach
There is suffering too terrible to name
You hold your child as tight as you can
And push away the unimaginable
The moments when you’re in so deep
It feels easier to just swim down
The Hamiltons move uptown
And learn to live with the unimaginable
I spend hours in the garden
I walk alone to the store
And it’s quiet uptown
I never liked the quiet before
I take the children to church on Sunday
A sign of the cross at the door
And I pray
That never used to happen before
If you see him in the street, walking by
Himself, talking to himself, have pity
Philip, you would like it uptown
It’s quiet uptown
He is working through the unimaginable
His hair has gone grey. He passes every day
They say he walks the length of the city
You knock me out, I fall apart
Can you imagine?
Look at where we are
Look at where we started
I know I don’t deserve you, Eliza
But hear me out. That would be enough
If I could spare his life
If I could trade his life for mine
He’d be standing here right now
And you would smile, and that would be enough
I don’t pretend to know
The challenges we’re facing
I know there’s no replacing what we’ve lost
And you need time
But I’m not afraid
I know who I married
Just let me stay here by your side
That would be enough
If you see him in the street, walking by her
Side, talking by her side, have pity
Eliza, do you like it uptown? It’s quiet uptown
He is trying to do the unimaginable
See them walking in the park, long after dark
Taking in the sights of the city
Look around, look around, Eliza
They are trying to do the unimaginable
There are moments that the words don’t reach
There is a grace too powerful to name
We push away what we can never understand
We push away the unimaginable
They are standing in the garden
Alexander by Eliza’s side
She takes his hand
It’s quiet uptown
Forgiveness. Can you imagine?
Forgiveness. Can you imagine?
If you see him in the street, walking by her
Side, talking by her side, have pity
They are going through the unimaginable
I won’t attempt to explain the storyline of Hamilton or the events that lead up to the song’s presence, but I will say this: a really bad decision has been made, a heart has been betrayed, and tragedy has occurred when the song emerges from a solo voice backed by the choir and accompanied by the piano.
The first time I heard the song, I wept, and I have teared up many times since that first hearing. The whole thing is just so beautifully raw and redemptive…
…which I suppose is why it’s the first song that entered my head yesterday, on Easter Sunday.
At first, I thought it strange that this song from Hamilton was the song in my head on the highest and holiest day of the Christian year. But then I thought about it and I realized that the song embodies what Easter is all about: forgiveness, redemption, humility, hope, reconciliation, faith, and resurrection—maybe not of the body (in this instance) but of lost love, relationship, reputation, and purpose.
Yesterday after church, I wrote:
Today is
Redemption
Righteousness
Resurrection
Reconciliation
Forgiveness
Hope
Peace and
Freedom
from
death,
sin,
condemnation,
and fear.
Today is the
Kingdom of God,
The Love of God,
Right here,
Right now,
Always.
The Kingdom of God is here, friends, and we can find it wherever we look, in whatever time and space we find ourselves—including in a car while listening to a musical that we’ve put off hearing for years.
How are you experiencing Kingdom of God? When and where are you finding hope, redemption, resurrection, and reconciliation?
------
There are moments that the words don’t reach
There is suffering too terrible to name
You hold your child as tight as you can
And push away the unimaginable
The moments when you’re in so deep
It feels easier to just swim down
The Hamiltons move uptown
And learn to live with the unimaginable
I spend hours in the garden
I walk alone to the store
And it’s quiet uptown
I never liked the quiet before
I take the children to church on Sunday
A sign of the cross at the door
And I pray
That never used to happen before
If you see him in the street, walking by
Himself, talking to himself, have pity
Philip, you would like it uptown
It’s quiet uptown
He is working through the unimaginable
His hair has gone grey. He passes every day
They say he walks the length of the city
You knock me out, I fall apart
Can you imagine?
Look at where we are
Look at where we started
I know I don’t deserve you, Eliza
But hear me out. That would be enough
If I could spare his life
If I could trade his life for mine
He’d be standing here right now
And you would smile, and that would be enough
I don’t pretend to know
The challenges we’re facing
I know there’s no replacing what we’ve lost
And you need time
But I’m not afraid
I know who I married
Just let me stay here by your side
That would be enough
If you see him in the street, walking by her
Side, talking by her side, have pity
Eliza, do you like it uptown? It’s quiet uptown
He is trying to do the unimaginable
See them walking in the park, long after dark
Taking in the sights of the city
Look around, look around, Eliza
They are trying to do the unimaginable
There are moments that the words don’t reach
There is a grace too powerful to name
We push away what we can never understand
We push away the unimaginable
They are standing in the garden
Alexander by Eliza’s side
She takes his hand
It’s quiet uptown
Forgiveness. Can you imagine?
Forgiveness. Can you imagine?
If you see him in the street, walking by her
Side, talking by her side, have pity
They are going through the unimaginable
Thursday, April 18, 2019
A Maundy Thursday Reflection
Yesterday, at the Church of the Holy Cross in Sedona...
I look up to you
Eyes of sadness, compassion
You look down at me
...and then Washington took my hand and we prayed.
Tonight, on this Maundy Thursday, we remember that Jesus did not call us servants but called us friends—that Jesus took people’s hands and prayed with them—that Jesus stuck with his people until the very end, even when he knew their character flaws, even when he knew they would deny and betray—that Jesus loved his people—Jesus loves all people...and asks us to do the same...even when we know character flaws, even when we know we will be denied and betrayed.
Oh God, grant that we might love with even a portion of your unfailing love and that we might sacrifice even a portion of all that you sacrificed, Jesus...for you can take that portion and change the world for good. And we need to see a change for good. Again. Amen.
I look up to you
Eyes of sadness, compassion
You look down at me
...and then Washington took my hand and we prayed.
Tonight, on this Maundy Thursday, we remember that Jesus did not call us servants but called us friends—that Jesus took people’s hands and prayed with them—that Jesus stuck with his people until the very end, even when he knew their character flaws, even when he knew they would deny and betray—that Jesus loved his people—Jesus loves all people...and asks us to do the same...even when we know character flaws, even when we know we will be denied and betrayed.
Oh God, grant that we might love with even a portion of your unfailing love and that we might sacrifice even a portion of all that you sacrificed, Jesus...for you can take that portion and change the world for good. And we need to see a change for good. Again. Amen.
Monday, April 15, 2019
We Are All Broken
We are all broken,
Searching for the divine.
Some find God,
Others do not.
And so we keep looking,
Hoping to find meaning,
Needing to feel whole,
Longing to belong to something more,
Reaching for a future of purpose and peace,
All the while broken,
Seeking the divine.
May we always be thankful for friends and family, old and new, who walk with us, stick by us, inspire us, and cheer us on as we face life’s broken road. May we never take love and friendship for granted...for they are two of God’s greatest gifts.
Amen and amen.
Searching for the divine.
Some find God,
Others do not.
And so we keep looking,
Hoping to find meaning,
Needing to feel whole,
Longing to belong to something more,
Reaching for a future of purpose and peace,
All the while broken,
Seeking the divine.
May we always be thankful for friends and family, old and new, who walk with us, stick by us, inspire us, and cheer us on as we face life’s broken road. May we never take love and friendship for granted...for they are two of God’s greatest gifts.
Amen and amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)