Stages on the Way

So it didn’t exactly go as we planned.

I had been waiting for December 16th, 2012 for months since Eva was born. Being a self-professed and proud church nerd, I’m pretty intentional about the things I plan in worship, and this time was no different. I wanted Eva to be baptized during Advent for a number of reasons: First, because in Advent last year, I remember sitting on the chancel looking out on my congregation on the third Sunday in December with a sweet little secret that we were expecting a child. I remember hearing the Magnificat read, realizing that I would soon understand this scripture in a whole different way, and there was something I loved about connecting those happy events from one year to the next. Second, today was what we call “Gaudete Sunday,” (from the Latin word “rejoice”). If you found yourself in church today, you might have noticed that we lit a pink candle—this shift from the purple of the season to pink or rose candles reflected this lessening emphasis on penitence as attention turned more to celebration and joy—and well, Taylor and I have much to be joyful about in our lives these days. Finally, Advent is the first part of the Christian year, and there is something in me that wanted to remind myself of our baptismal vows to God on behalf of my child every time we “start over” in the year as a church.

But as I said, it didn’t go exactly as we planned. In fact, for a baptism, it was a parent’s (particularly a preacher’s) worst nightmare. I blame the organ. When that first toot came out from the pipes that were maybe only 20 feet away from my child’s face, she let out a cry that began an excruciating six and a half minutes for the whole congregation. Having the ears of a new mom, I can hear my child’s cry anywhere and anytime, and it pierced my ears between the pauses in the hymn. The time came when we were to come up to the altar to begin, and my husband and child were nowhere to be found—Taylor was being a great father, trying to calm her down in the hallway outside. But the show had to go on…

She cried through the WHOLE baptism. Cried may not do it justice—it was more like wailing. My colleague Brady did a beautiful job of approaching the situation with grace, diffusing the awkwardness, and making the congregation laugh. All the while, Taylor and I took turns cradling her head, whispering in her ear while she screamed at the top of her lungs. The thought crossed my mind as to whether she had some deep sense of what she was about to get herself into—the church ladies that would be her mothers in the faith whether she asked them to be or not, the challenge that the Church may bring, and the presence of God who will now hold her firmly in a holy grip for the rest of her life. Maybe she knew that, from now on, something might be different.

The life of faith IS hard. I’ve had a lot of texts, a few calls and one key conversation over this past weekend about God’s presence (and seeming lack thereof) that have reminded me of that. It’s hard for a lot of reasons—because of the questions that linger unanswered, and the way we change in ways that catch us off guard and surprise us. I have never reacted more viscerally about a tragedy or been more vulnerable than the weeks since I have become a parent. Being charged with the care of another human being has, I believe, deepened my faith in God. I have never needed God to be God more than right now, because I can’t do this alone. But I have also noticed that I worry more often, get angry more quickly, and cry on behalf of more people and situations than my former differentiated self would allow. I count it as a maddening gift from God to see the world in deeper, living color.

The baptism ended, and we all breathed what I detected to be a sigh of relief that it was about to be over. Though my worry for my daughter clouded much of my recollection of these few minutes I do have one salient memory: Before she left, Brady grabbed her little hand and prayed a prayer something like this, “God, bless this little child with a strong voice and even stronger spirit, and help her to grow in grace…”

Life won’t go exactly as we plan. That makes me thankful to have the privilege even more now to live a life that is worthy of the gospel of Christ. It challenges me to live into these vows taken today–vows that will guide us in raising this child as a message of good news that Taylor and I will send into a world we will never see.

Thank you, God, for the cry of a baby. For those cries can melt the heart of a mother and cause the kingdoms of the unjust to fall. These cries remind us of our humanness, that we are not in control, and only You can be. And that, I believe, is a truth that will turn any sorrow into joy.

So I’ll admit it—As a pastor sitting high up on a chancel every Sunday morning (a perfect perch to see all…and I mean ALL of what happens among the congregation), I used to turn my nose up on a few things. Folks under the age of 70 I thought had no excuse for dozing off in church, people checking I-phones during the sermon was appalling, but nothing could top my biggest pet peeve of them all: people that would come into my well-planned worship service, well, late.

I know what you’re thinking: What a snob. And I completely agree.

God has a funny way of breaking us of our quirks, along with our blind spots and ridiculous judgments in life. God brings us gifts to crack open new places in the world and find a new posture within it. For me, that gift came in the form of having a child—a lovely, screaming, needy, holy mess of a daughter. And I think it was the first Sunday of maternity leave when I looked like death wrapped in a sweatshirt and pajama pants, that I realized—I have become one of “them.” And by “them,” I mean…you. All of you. The people that I once sneered at, and now am grateful that you had the wherewithal to wake up, dress the kids (and yourself…forever an afterthought now), pack the bags, make the breakfast, and corral everyone to go to a worship service that you don’t even get paid to show up for…ON YOUR DAY OFF. This is amazing to me. The fact that we have people in our churches at all is truly a miracle of God.

These past twelve weeks have been one of marking a different rhythm. The late night feedings had me waking up about as many times as the monks at St. Joseph’s Abbey in Covington as they pray the Daily Office—and I did, sometimes, to make the time go by and to stay awake. The road trips, whether they have been six hours away in Texas for a preacher’s conference, or six minutes away to a drug store, take about the same amount of time to plan for and to pack. No matter how many lists we make, there is always something forgotten. And the times of a newborn crying—for no reason at all—have helped this alpha female that prides herself in “fixing” everything and everyone that sometimes there is just no “fixing” to be had…that we really are totally out of control.

Yes, my perspective has changed a good bit over these weeks, and what I didn’t learn anew I was reminded again. I had a church member in the gym on my first day back ask me a very meaningful question: “What has been your greatest lesson in becoming a mother?” I thought about it for a moment. But the answer that came out of my mouth was not pre-meditated, and I certainly hadn’t done much reflection on it, if any at all. My answer was this: I have rediscovered the value of time.

With a child now,
I have never been more focused…
…more productive with the time I’m given…
…more willing to say “yes’ to the things that matter…
…and “no” to the things that ultimately don’t…
And I have never felt the urgency to work for a new world more than now, when the world I help bring into being will be the world my daughter will inherit.

The time I spent on leave (I affectionately call it my “Sabbath without Sleep”) helped me see that the sermons I have preached about the importance of Sabbath are actually true–the world really does go on. I can see why Thomas Merton said often that he tried to “find ways to be uninteresting to the world for a time.” Disconnecting–It’s good for the soul. That Sabbath from being “useful” to my corner of the world helped me remember and actually witness God’s work through others with an attention I hadn’t keyed into in a long time.

Eva is 12 weeks old and about to start “school” tomorrow as I head back to the office full-time. Watching a child grow, seeing the clothes she once wore already heaped in a pile of “too small” help me daily remember how precious time is. Today, I am more ready to cherish the place I currently am more than the place I think I need to be, more apt to take risks that count rather than playing it safe, and has made me generally more hopeful.

May we all live lives, by the power of God, that continually grow beyond what we know and what we assume are the limits of possibility within us.

We started the morning with the Episcopal, Lay and Young People’s Address, and then went into lengthy debate about the Rules. The length of the debate changed our schedule, and pushed back time for electing legislative committee officers and Holy Conversations on Identity and Theology, and Human Sexuality (intentional, perhaps?).

For Louisiana folks, you will be interested to know that the results of the legislative committee elections lifted up two key leaders from the South Central Jurisdiction as Chair. Rev. Ellen Alston, our Head of Lousiana Delegation, will Chair Superintendency. Rev. Elijah Stanzell (Head of Delegation, Texas) will Chair General Administration, which is the committee that will handle the highly-debated restructuring legislation. Elijah is also one of the Episcopal candidates we as a delegation interviewed in February at FUMC-Baton Rouge, and he is endorsed by Black Methodists for Church Renewal.

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There are very few times in life where I have found myself in a place where Scripture comes alive in real time, but from the beginning of my journey here, from touching down on the plane, riding in the shuttle, arriving in the swarms of color, language, laughter, I have felt enfolded in the presence and passion of the worldwide church.

The whole gang is here–Ellen, Andy, Pat, Bernie, Larry, Sarah, Buzzy, Olivia, Pete, Carolyn, Fred, and me. Edna and Terrell will be joining us this weekend as the plenary begins. Today, we walked through the beginning processes of greeting old friends, making new ones, and attending a series of briefings for young people, women, people of color, and for first-time delegates.

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Sermon on John 1

Methodists have a stigma of shying away from speaking for or about God, wouldn’t you say? And I don’t actually think that’s a bad thing, because it shows that we we’ve gotten the memo that we don’t have all the answers. Maybe you fill in the blank with things like—I don’t know enough, I’m not well-liked enough, I don’t have enough time, I am afraid of messing up, or I have done too much in my life. You can already begin to see that some of these statements aren’t real humility, but are really more rooted in guilt.

The grace in all this is that we find ourselves in a great lineage of others that struggled with the same thing. Think of all of the different prophets and people that spoke for God throughout the Bible—If you block the Hollywood version of the story out of your mind, Moses is not eloquent. Jeremiah said that he is too young and is not wise or wisened even after he answers the call of God. Isaiah deems himself unworthy: Iam a man of unclean lips (6:5) Then there are those that don’t have any perceived lack of giftedness or authority, but choose to turn away, like Jonah, for personal reasons. In all instances, the way they come into their jobs is awkward at best, and somehow God finds a way to use them as God uses us.

The traditional Greek admonition “Know yourself” surely means “Know who you are and who you are not.” Knowing who you are and who you are not.

This Advent is a season where WE are reminded of that.

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Joshua 1-14

I was reading the passage in Chapter 3 as the people of God make their way over the Jordan today. It reminded me of a song we performed in college, “Be Not Afraid.” The composer was one of my classmates and fellow choir members. Today, I am reminded that God will always put people in our midst who will place stones in the rushing rivers of our lives–as a reminder of where we have been, to slow the waters for our safe passage, and to help us move forward into the Promised Land(s) in store for us.

Listen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M3re8UIqMBA

Deuteronomy 23-34

It struck me today that as much as it seems evident that the laws in Deuteronomy reveal the prevalence of “Black-and-White” thinking of the time, there are some passages that might surprise you. For instance, this passage on the course of action if a man seizes a women–not exactly something the ACLU would approve of, but it shows their understanding that there are shades of grey in some situations.

From Deuteronomy 22: “23If there is a young woman, a virgin already engaged to be married, and a man meets her in the town and lies with her, 24you shall bring both of them to the gate of that town and stone them to death, the young woman because she did not cry for help in the town and the man because he violated his neighbor’s wife. So you shall purge the evil from your midst. 25But if the man meets the engaged woman in the open country, and the man seizes her and lies with her, then only the man who lay with her shall die. 26You shall do nothing to the young woman; the young woman has not committed an offense punishable by death, because this case is like that of someone who attacks and murders a neighbor. 27Since he found her in the open country, the engaged woman may have cried for help, but there was no one to rescue her.”

a + b does not always equal c. Just as leading the people + being faithful (most of the time) doesn’t always lead to being able to get to the promised land. I hadn’t read the passages on the death of Moses in about six years. Beautiful, beautiful moment. I’m reminded from God’s words to him that most of the time we all play a part for a season, but very few of us get to see the full “Promised Land” of our endeavors. I feel that often being an itinerant pastor. In some way, it reminds us that it is truly God that is weaving us all together–that it is God that is truly the actor–and we have the deep privilege to participate.

Deuteronomy 8-23

stub·born
Adjective/?stu`born/
1. Having or showing dogged determination not to change one’s attitude or position on something, esp. in spite of good arguments or reasons to do so.
2. Difficult to move, remove, or cure.

So much of the early parts of the Bible talk about a stubborn or “stiff-necked” people. I’ve always known that, but noticed it especially when I was making my way through Deuteronomy today. Deuteronomy 9 has a moment in it when we are reminded of our double-nature: “6Know, then, that the Lord your God is not giving you this good land to occupy because of your righteousness; for you are a stubborn people. 7Remember and do not forget how you provoked the Lord your God to wrath in the wilderness; you have been rebellious against the Lord from the day you came out of the land of Egypt until you came to this place.”

I found it interesting that the definition of the word “stubborn” used the description of “determination” in it–making it clear that stubbornness is not just a result of inaction or apathy. No, in fact it is actually an intentional decision not to move because of one’s values, fears, or hopes and dreams. I think most people usually think of “stubborn” as a negative attribute. I don’t give much credence to horoscopes, but I was born a Taurus, and anyone born in that sign is deemed “stubborn and earthy”–a description I’ve always enjoyed, because it made me think, for a moment, that I am a strong and grounded person no matter what comes (my husband knows better.)

But in reading about their introduction to the land, and about the establishment of rules–rules for waging holy war, rules for the judicial system, the priesthood, public officials, for debts and slaves, we see that God is giving them land to root themselves in. It is because God knows our double-nature of being righteous devoted and disobedient that he knows we cannot be left to wander around forever. Taylor’s family has some land over in Gilmer, TX, and he’s always told me that owning land is important to him because it grounds each of us–individuals, families–somewhere. You can’t just let land lay fallow. You have to do something with it. And in this moment, God is using their stubborn energies for good.

God trusted their stubbornness.

“The Lord your God you shall follow, him alone you shall fear, his commandments you shall keep, his voice you shall obey, him you shall serve, to him you shall hold fast.” -Deuteronomy 13:4

Numbers 32-Deuteronomy 7

From Deuteronomy 5: “and you said, “Look, the Lord our God has shown us his glory and greatness, and we have heard his voice out of the fire. Today we have seen that God may speak to someone and the person may still live. 25So now why should we die? For this great fire will consume us; if we hear the voice of the Lord our God any longer, we shall die. 26For who is there of all flesh that has heard the voice of the living God speaking out of fire, as we have, and remained alive? 27Go near, you yourself, and hear all that the Lord our God will say. Then tell us everything that the Lord our God tells you, and we will listen and do it.” 28The Lord heard your words when you spoke to me, and the Lord said to me: “I have heard the words of this people, which they have spoken to you; they are right in all that they have spoken. 29If only they had such a mind as this, to fear me and to keep all my commandments always, so that it might go well with them and with their children forever!”

I thought during this reading day that I might write on the Shema–the great commandment. But I was surprised by this reading and decided to lift it up today. I lifted it up because it shows the people of God in a struggle with their conception of their own image of God. And I’m surrounded with people everyday that struggle with that same question–”Who is God REALLY? …and why should I care? What does God’s nature, God’s action (or inaction), and God’s will or intention for my life actually feel like/look like/practically call me to do?”

Out of the whole scripture, I was captured by their conception of God’s voice–and find it interesting that very seldom today do we ever find people saying that they truly “heard the Voice of God,” but that God speaks to us in many surprising ways. I wonder if that is a reflection of the way we make sense of authority in our culture today–in individualism (God is only for “me”), relevance (authority is only authority if it is relevant to my life), and decentralized authority (God’s authority is in everyone). I think that topic may be a conversation for another day to walk through some of my thoughts around why these changes can be good, and sometimes not so helpful (i.e., “You can safely assume that you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.” -Anne Lamott).

I don’t have the book in front of me, but in The Good and Beautiful God, James Bryan Smith talks a lot about God images–how they can be formed for better or worse over time. He reminded me of how our perception of who God is can truly make or break our relationship with the Church, and they can actually make or break our very lives.

What is your “God image?”

The Book of Leviticus

God says, “this shall be a statute to you forever…”
really?
wish that the absolution of my guilt was that easy
if, then,
a+b
all cut and dry
predictable
nothing like the messy life of the Spirit I know

They were ordinary actions
meant for extraordinary purposes
in sacrifice
a harsh reminder
of the hard road to holy

Even the year of Jubilee
accomplishes more for those in need
than Congress can do
in one term
redeeming land
reclaiming time
renewing human life

There is no cut and dry
black and white
to our search for God’s mercy
it is mystery
not equation
it is miracle
not prescription

Laws have their power
in Spirit, and not in letter

We are His…
Not because we do,
But because we are.

Let us never forget.