Dec 31 2019 Matthew 8:1-17

“Go your way; and as you have believed, so let it be done for you.”


This section of Matthew is a litany of healings. Jesus heals the leper, and he heals Peter’s mother-in-law. After these big three healings, we read that he healed many who were demon-possessed with a word, and all who were sick.

In the midst of this string of healings, he heals the Centurion’s servant. The Centurion is a Roman soldier, part of the occupying force – clearly seen as the oppressor. This soldier comes to Jesus and acknowledges that like Jesus, he is under authority of others, and has authority over others. He asks Jesus to heal his servant, with only his word. Jesus’ response is that because of the soldier’s faith, his servant will be healed.

The reflection for the pre-mission trip focuses on being under God’s authority and speaking and ministering under that authority. With that authority, we have immense power to heal and bring God’s Good News.

I fully believe that it is only God’s authority I can do any ministering. As a baptized Christian, I am commissioned to seek and serve Christ in all people, strive for justice and peace, proclaim the Gospel in word and deed. We all are commissioned to do that in our baptism. We all have committed to act under God’s authority to do God’s work. Also, in my tradition, I am ordained (or ordered) to do special ministries. Serve the widow and the poor. Bring the needs of the church in to the world, and the needs of the world into the church. I absolutely believe I am squarely under God’s authority, and my power and effectiveness comes from the power and authority conferred to me, as a baptized and ordained Christian.

I also understand that I am a mere mortal, as are all of the well-intentioned people with whom I live, work and travel. Sometimes we get it wrong, believing we are working under God’s authority or on God’s behalf, when it’s really our own will. In my experience, it is easier for me to recognize that slip in other people much easier in others, than in me.

I also bristle at the notion that prayer and subservience to God will heal all illnesses, and trample all demons. I have a sick loved one who’s in crisis now, and they are incredibly unhappy and making dangerous choices. This is not because of anything they did, and their illness is not because of anything I did, or am not doing. Nor is it God’s will that this is happening.

I believe God’s healing touch, my prayer, the power of darkness, flickering light – all of the spiritual things in and around my life are part of a big arc. It’s part of a big story that started a long time ago, long before I was born. And its ending is long after I’m gone. It’s as MLK said, “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice”.



This morning I’m thinking about my God-granted authority to help bend that arc of the moral universe. From where I stand, my impact may be imperceptible, since the arc is long; I can’t see that the earth is round from where I stand, because it’s so big, and I’m so small. But the earth is round. The arc of God’s kingdom bends toward Love. My job, all of our jobs is to bend our little bit, even if we cannot see it. Even if miracles are infrequent, and healing doesn’t come. Still we are commissioned and ordained to share God’s love and mercy.

Dec 30 2019 Mark 16: 14-20

And they went out and preached everywhere, the Lord working with them and confirming the word through the accompanying signs.


Jesus has died, and the eleven remaining disciples are hiding, afraid for their lives. Their leader, the one who they thought was going to kick the occupying Romans to the curb, has just been executed by the very Romans he was to defeat. The disciples are afraid that they put their money on the wrong horse; they were well known as Jesus’ disciples, and he seemingly was defeated. They don’t yet understand that he actually won the war; all they know is that he lost this battle, and lost his life.

They’re hiding, afraid, and doubting the faith they placed in this dead, ineffective Messiah. It’s a low moment for them, unsure what they’re going to do next. It’s at that low moment that the risen Jesus appears, and comforts them. No, actually, he chides them harshly for their disbelief.

But for whatever reason, that worked. After their rebuke, Jesus commissioned them to go out and spread the good news. And they did! But they were not alone. The reading says that the Lord affirmed what they did, traveling with them and showing signs, which in some translations is ‘miracles’.

Lately, I’ve struggled with the concept or reality of miracles. It’s not that I don’t think God can perform miracles. But I don’t think it’s entirely up to me and my praying. I do like the notion of being accompanied by God, who shows signs. This I can get behind.

The interesting thing about signs is that it’s easy to miss them for opposite reasons. On one hand, we miss them because we’re oblivious. We aren’t looking. We’re not expecting them, and we miss them entirely. On the other hand, we become accustomed to them, used to them, expect them, nonplused by them, and we miss them because they become routine.

I am not planning to go to Guatemala and see God’s miracles. Maybe that will happen, but I’m a little jaded right now. But I do hope to see signs of God’s action in the world. Maybe those signs will precede me, paving the way. Or maybe they’ll be in my wake.

This morning, I’m thinking about watching for signs of God’s action in the world. Seeing them, naming them, sharing them.

Dec 28 2019 Galatians 5: 16-26

The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Paul is ranting about the warfare between the flesh and the spirit, what the spirit wants is at warfare with the flesh and what the flesh wants is at warfare with the spirit. He then provides a long list of the fruits of the flesh, none of which are good – licentiousness, strife, envy, carousing. But he finishes with a wonderful list of fruits of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, patience. He finishes this bit the recommendation that if we are going to live by the Spirit, we should also be guided by the Spirit. How simple to hear, but not easy to do!

The pre-mission trip reflection asks me to think about the people on the trip and their traits that might get under my skin, when thrown together for an intense week. I’m sure that will happen, but because they’re a group from Ohio, and I know only one person in the group, I don’t know what I don’t know about everyone else.

I am reminded, however of the group of people I journeyed with through my discernment process for ordination. It was a long 5 years of intense weekends, with disparate people, asked to share intimate things. I would return to work after a weekend, and grouse to an interested co-worker. She’d listen kindly to my complaining about this person or that quirk. At one point, she remarked that it sounded like we were being formed into a group of disciples, and she listed off all of the grousing and quirks of the original group of 12 journeying through their discernment together. Well, um, yeah.

There is value in the process that groups go through, even the rough bits. That is true when we all remember the fruits of the spirit. Even with the traits and quirks that I find irksome, can I remember to treat everyone with the fruits of the Spirit? With love, and joy and patience?

This morning, I’m thinking about how groups of Jesus-followers are formed into disciples, with all of our human, fruits of the flesh traits. If we can remember and be led by the fruits of the Spirit, none of the rest of that matters. We can overcome all of that.

Dec 28 2019 2 Corinthians 5: 16-20

We are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ

This morning’s pre-trip reflection focuses on being a good ambassador for Jesus, versus being a loud-mouthed, stereotypical Ugly American, when travelling. As someone who’s travelled, I appreciate this reminder, and hope I’ve never been the Ugly American. Possibly the closest I came was the trip in college to East Berlin and the Soviet Union. It was hard to not stick out there, both because of my youthful impishness, and the severity of the host cultures. 

But that trip aside, I’ve been keenly aware of how different we are in the US, compared to nearly every other place. I’ve tried to blend in, or at least not stick out. I’ve tried to respect and reflect local culture and customs.

But still that’s not quite what this reflection is encouraging me to do. This is reminding me that I am an ambassador of God while on this trip. My sister- and brother-in-law have had long and interesting careers in the US State Department. I see what ambassadorship looks like, when they talk about policies or politics, and they clearly are expressing the perspective of those they are to represent; sometimes it was hard to see where the individual stopped and the ambassador started, the lines were so blurred.

The devotional provided a great analogy that I inherently understand, given my years in local government. If I go to a public meeting as an individual I can share my individual perspectives. But if I go to a public meeting on behalf of my city employer, my language is metered, and my thoughts are filtered; is this the perspective of my boss? If not, better not said.

For this upcoming trip, it’s clear whose agent I am. I should do nothing that is inconsistent with what that Governor asks of me. In my baptism, those requests are clear:

• Continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship
• Persevere in resisting evil and when I fall into sin, return to the Lord
• Proclaim by word and example the good news of God
• Seek and serve Christ in all people, loving my neighbor as myself
• Strive for justice and peace, respecting the dignity of every human being

While on this God-inspired mission trip, I need to be an agent for those things, and always act with this in mind. If what I do or say is not supportive of this, my ultimate lord, best not done or said.

And here’s the thing. This trip is nothing different than my every-day world. In my every day, I am just as much committed to God’s will, and should be just as much an ambassador of Christ. Because I work for the church, and read and reflect on scripture daily, it’s increasingly easy to remember where my focus should be. Whether I’m praying in the morning, or writing, or scheduling meetings for clergy, or arranging for spiritual retreats, God is in my mind, and God is the focus of my thoughts.

This morning, I’m thinking about how to be sure that my focus on God, which feels sort of one-to-one – me to God and God to me, actually needs to be one-to-one-to-all. In my interactions with everyone I encounter, I am God’s ambassador. I do not have the luxury of ‘speaking my mind’, because I’m always on the clock, with God as the ultimate and eternal authority.

I’m increasingly in the habit or practice of remembering my one-to-one relationship. I will use this short term trip to remember it’s really a one-to-one-to-all.

Dec 27 2019 Psalm 24:1

The earth is the Lord’s, and all its fullness, the world and those who dwell therein.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. And on the subsequent five days, made everything in and on the earth. This psalm, or sacred song, is an a lyrical reminder. The earth is the Lord’s, and all that is in it.

In a few weeks, I’ll be travelling to Guatemala, where conditions will be very different. Landscape, culture, food, people, attitudes. What I see, and smell and taste and do. Coming from what is unfortunately considered a ‘first world country’ into what is more unfortunately considered a ‘third world country’, the differences can be stark and surprising. We light skinned people can see the differences from a position of superiority, and the darker skinned people can see the differences from a position of inferiority.

That is one of the scariest things for me about going on a mission trip, that concept that I have something better, or more. That somehow I’m more favored or blessed or good. If we well-intentioned light skinned people are not careful, we can perpetuate this sense of inferiority in the places we travel, because we perpetuate the idea that we are superior. As Robert Lupton writes in his book, Toxic Charity: How Churches and Charities Hurt Those They Help, and How to Reverse It, , 90% of us in the US are involved in charity, either giving of our talent, our treasure or time, where we feel it’s needed. He writes, “We fly off on mission trips to poverty-stricken villages, hearts full of pity and suitcases bulging with giveaway goods, trips that one Nicaraguan leader describes as effective only in ‘turning my people into beggars’.”

This morning’s devotional reflection focuses on the sense of inferiority from our hosts; they may ask us if we think their home or church is ok. What they’re really asking is do we, the people of superiority see them as somehow ok, even though they may see themselves as inferior. Clearly, this is a false choice – they are no more inferior than we are superior. We don’t need to save them, any more than they need to be saved.

I don’t mean to suggest that there is anything inherently wrong with the intentions of mission trips in general or the wonderful trip I’m about to take. And there is always a risk that our desire to make ourselves feel good by helping those in need is a bigger motivation than doing God’s will. Loving God. Loving your neighbor.

This morning, I’m thinking about my motivation. What’s taking me to Guatemala? If I’m brutally honest, one of the greatest reasons I’m going is to see and spend time with a dear friend. I could just as soon go to NYC for a week with her. And the second reason is because orphanages, mission work, and Latin America each have a special place in my heart, and this trip combines all three. I adopted a US orphan, I’ve volunteered in an orphanage in Kenya, trained in how to lead mission trips to Latin America and we honeymooned and nearly adopted an orphan from Latin America. This trip is the convergence of many things I hold dear.

While I may have more cash resources than the people I’ll see, they are no less beautiful, perfect, children of God, with different gifts and skills and beauty. I hope that I’m able to spot any sense of disparity in all its ugly forms from the dark skinned people. And I hope I’m able to spot any sense of disparity from the light skinned people too. Figuring out how to name it and correct it will be the challenge.

Dec 26 2019 Mark 1: 12-13

Immediately the Holy Spirit compelled Jesus to go into the wilderness. He was there for forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was out among the wild beasts, and angels took care of him.

Mark’s Gospel has always reminded me of a second grader telling a story. It’s full of truncated sentences, and skips from one big event to another, skimming over details that I’d like to hear. Today’s reading from the pre-mission trip devotional is a perfect example.

We are in the first few verses of the first chapter of Mark, and already Jesus has been born, John the Baptist has made his fiery entrance, and Jesus is baptized by John. All of that in 11 verses. The appointed readings relay that the Spirit has sent Jesus out into the wilderness. In the subsequent 7 verses, John’s arrested, and Jesus calls his disciples. Whew!

I imagine that these stories, or actually just bullet points from Mark’s Gospel, are just brief highlights of much deeper and richer narratives. The two verses appointed for today make it sound like Jesus was sent out into the wilderness, hung out with wild beasts, but was protected by angels. And while I’m sure that’s true, there is much much more to the story, right?

Why was Jesus sent out to be tempted? Was it like tempering metal, to make it stronger? To see what this new man-God would do in his mortal body?

This morning, I’m thinking about the being tempted or tested in the wilderness. It seems like any given day could feel like a wild-beast-in-the-wilderness test. And I absolutely believe I’m not alone in that wilderness. The question is whether I can respond in a way that portrays that I’m not alone, that I believe I’m loved and protected.

As I imagine the upcoming trip to Guatemala, I don’t believe I’ll actually be confronted by wild beasts. And I don’t think my going is a cosmic satanic testing. But I do think that in all circumstances, I might be tested or tempered. My challenge is to rise above that, and respond as if God’s providence is at work. Because it is.

Dec 25 2019 Christmas Night

Emmanuel, God with Us.

Last night, I had the joy of singing again with a choir on Christmas Eve. It reminded me of decades of choir Christmas Eve’s. It was a wonderful way to start Christmas.

With the service beginning at 11, and the brisk walk home at 12:30, it was after 1:00 before I got to bed, and another 45 minutes before I settled in. A long night, resulting in a short night in bed. This morning came early. Today, we had a subdued Christmas that started with homemade cinnamon rolls, and ended with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. The food was rich and good.

Christmas has always been a favorite of mine, and I’ve managed to mostly stay away from excess, unrealistic expectations and drama. Unfortunately, today, I wasn’t so lucky. Holidays are a trigger for many people, and they definitely were for my sick loved one. We started the day with drama, and concluded it with yelling, a truncated movie after dinner, and everyone retreating to their rooms.

So here I sit. In my dark bedroom, hiding from the raging storm, and full of sadness for Christmas’ past. Christmas for my loved one will never be the same, and because of that, neither for me.

And yet, God is with us. Emanuel. God came into this sorrowful world, to an unwed, homeless refugee. Mary’s life could not have been easy, and yet that’s how God chose to be with us. Not in pomp. Not in royalty. God came in the darkness. God is pure light, and in Jesus, God sent that light to us.

There were certainly times when Jesus withdrew from the raging storm, from the darkness around him. But the darkness did not overcome the light. Darkness will not overcome the light.

Perhaps more than ever, I’m grateful for Emanuel. Instead of hiding, now, I will sit in my darkened room with God’s light. The darkness will not overcome it.

Dec 24 2019 John 4: 34-38

Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work.

In this story, Jesus has just met the Samaritan woman at the well, and gave her water, and revealed himself as the Messiah. This was a big deal because she had several strikes against her – wrong gender and wrong tribe. An outsider to be sure. The disciples, or insiders are surprised that Jesus has done this, but although they wondered, they did not ask. But Jesus knew what they were thinking.

He explained to them that the harvest is ready where they were. The people – outsider Samaritans – were ripe for the Word of God, just as the woman at the well had been. He encouraged the disciples into the community and spread God’s good news.

After this, we hear that many in the village came to believe. Not because of what the disciples had done, but because of what the woman had said.

There is an interesting and ironic twist in this story, that I think is more important than Jesus telling his disciples to go out because the harvest is ready. If you look at the arc of the story, Jesus goes out into the wild world to encounter ‘the other’. He isn’t seeking an encounter. He wants water, something that’s plain and something he’d have done a dozen times a day. It is in that mundane activity, where he encounters the woman. It’s in that unexpected and mundane moment the Good News of God is revealed to her. For our trip, there will likely be constructed moments where discipleship and harvesting the field are the intended outcome. And there will be many moments before and after those, where we can encounter the woman at the well. We’ll be able to encounter someone, unscripted, unplanned, unintended, and by being God’s people and doing God’s work, we can share the Good News of God’s immense and unbelievable love. Note to self: don’t wait for the official ministry moments.

Another lesson here is the action and interaction between Jesus and his disciples. He’s ministering to the woman at the well, and he’s working with ‘the outsiders’. The insiders are aghast, although they don’t say anything to him. Jesus needs to remind them of the work they are to do. He says to them that although they may not look ready, the fields are ripe – go harvest. Go spread God’s love. Their reaction, is to question why he’s talking to her. I’m not sure if they’re protective of their inner sanctum, or threatened by the differences of those with whom they’re working. But for whatever reason, Jesus needs to remind them again what they’re supposed to be doing. Go out with God’s Command – Love God. Love your Neighbor. Don’t wait until you think things are ready. They’re ready now. Go. In settings with church insiders, whether the clergy with which I work, or members of congregations, or possibly this mission group, sometimes we put up barriers to protect the group, we don’t do God’s work with outsiders, because we want to protect the group, or feel this isn’t the right moment. Instead, urgently and repeatedly, Jesus commands, Go. Love God. Love your Neighbor. Now.

The final irony in this story is that there is some wonderful Good News Sharing, and it comes from an unexpected source. The woman, the social outcast even in her world, returns to her people and tells them of God’s Good News. They believed in Jesus because of her testimony. She, the outsider of the story. She was not the major players, or the ones who get the pep talk about going into the world. She didn’t need it. She knew of God’s power and love. She experienced the commandment of Love your Neighbor, from her encounter with Jesus at the well. Jesus demonstrated what Love your Neighbor looks like. She believed because of what she heard and saw. And she, without prompting became the star harvester in this story. 

This morning, I’m thinking about the risks of being disciples of Jesus, and going to foreign country, because we think the harvest is ready. I am keenly aware of the idea that effective groups demand a sense of cohesiveness that by definition creates those inside the group, and those outside. I’m aware of the risk of using that group think to see the other as a threat, or to not want to let them in. Not with any malice.

I’m thinking about the fact that while the intended moments for ministry are wonderful, it can happen anywhere with anyone.

Finally, I’m thinking about the risk for arrogance, to think that I am called to spread God’s Good News to everyone there. Like in Jesus encounter with the Samaritan woman, I’m called to share God’s love with one person. To build up that person so they can go be the harvesters. In this story, it’s the outsider woman who harvested, without having been asked to do so. Because although she was an outsider to Jesus’ band of disciples, she was much less of an outsider within her community.

Yes, I’m called to go. As St. Francis of Assisi said, Spread the Gospel at all times, and if necessary, use words. But like people in this story, I’m called to share the Gospel so others can share the Gospel. The field is not solely mine to harvest. I’m thinking about the ways to share the harvesting with the people I encounter. That lightens the work for everyone, and lets the local people speak and act in their community. Today, I want to think about being more like Tom Sawyer, and figure out how to get others to help paint the fence. I’ll spread God’s Good News through actions, and pray they can continue to spread that news. Love God. Love your Neighbor.

Dec 23 2019 John 21:18-19

When you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.

This is an interesting section for reflection. Jesus is telling Peter that when he was younger, he had a lot of agency over his life, choosing when and where to go. But when he gets older, someone else will make the choices, and take him where he does not want to go. After this, Jesus simply concludes by telling Peter, Follow Me.

This exchange between Peter and Jesus happens after Jesus has died and risen. He asks Peter three times, ‘Do you love me?’, and three times Peter responds that of course he loves Jesus. Then feed my sheep. Three times Peter is asked and Peter recommits his love of Jesus. This is to poetically counter the three times Peter denied Jesus, before his death. Although to Jesus, love is love, and there is no scorecard, he has effectively negated the three denials by Peter in Peter’s mind, by asking him to recommit three times. After that has been settled, he continues with this bit about when Peter is old, he’ll have less autonomy, and reminds Peter, ‘follow me’.

My parents retired to a small rural town after decades in suburban Chicago. The grocery store in town, if you could call it that, had about 6 aisles, maybe 20’ long. Walking the entire store took maybe 10 minutes. Compare that with the giant stores in our home town, and the little country grocery store was comical in what it did not have.

But, it was absolutely sufficient. Stopping at the store was no big deal, took no time, and I didn’t feel fatigued by the adventure. For the 6 months I lived there, I came to appreciate the smallness of their store.

Choice, or agency is sometimes overrated. When there are five choices for white bread, it takes longer to decide. At their store, there was one kind of white bread, and it was absolutely fine, for white bread. There was a butcher counter, instead of a row of prepackaged meat. I got what the butcher commended, effectively turning over the choice to him. Sometimes my best-laid dinner plans were thwarted by a lack of exotic ingredients, but the resulting dinner which became a function of what was available, was no less yummy.

All of this is to say that having choice is overrated. Sometimes the easiest and best thing is to turn over my options and let someone else choose.

This morning’s reflection is about turning over authority to God. In particular, allowing the mission team leaders to call the shots while on the trip. We are asked again and again to follow God, in all sorts of ways.  

This morning, I’m thinking about how, like Peter, there is a tradeoff between my personal agency or autonomy and my willingness to follow God. I’m not sure why it comes as a surprise; daily I pray, “thy will be done”. Not my will. As I turn over my life and my choices to God’s will, I have fewer choices left to my sole discretion. And my experience at small grocery stores, after the initial bristling about restricted choice, I’m grateful that some of those choices were eliminated.

I have heard that former President Obama had a closet full of grey suits. He omitted that choice from his daily world, believing he needed to save his brain power for choices that matter. It really is a thing, decision fatigue. Today, I’m grateful for the opportunity to turn over increasingly more choices to God, to avoid my own decision fatigue. Thy will be done on Earth, not my will be done.

Dec 22 2019 Hebrews 11: 1-10

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

This morning’s reflection in advance of my trip to Guatemala is about faith. It suggests that getting out of your normal, familiar routine forces you to renew and recommit to a reliance on God. You don’t have the comfort of familiar and predictable places and people and habits, which can lull us in a false sense of self-reliance. We forget who’s really making our world ordered, and think it’s us.

Hebrews 11 is a recounting of many of the people throughout the arc of salvation who lived and died by faith. Moses, Abel, Enoch, Abraham, Joseph, Rahab. Some of the people mentioned in the over twenty sentences that begin with ‘By faith’ were delivered from their troubles, while others were mocked, flogged, sawn in two, destitute and persecuted. And yet they had faith. The author of Hebrews is not painting a rosy or falsely optimistic picture of the guarantees from faith; the author doesn’t say that faith will right all wrongs. The chapter concludes that while all those commended for their faith may not have received their perceived promise, God provided something better.

As a member of a short-term mission trip, I will be out of my element. Routines and expected comforts will be stripped away. I will be forced to once again remember who provides, and on whom I am reliant.

And given my home world for the past 12 months, I have been out of my element. Routines and expected comforts have been stripped away. And I am acutely aware of the God on whom I am utterly dependent. In the past week, the concept of faith has come up twice in my world, so it’s fitting that this morning’s reflection is about faith.

I have returned to having a spiritual director. She helps me, by talking about my world, my sick loved one, where God is, and where God is moving and acting in my life. She asked me where God is, as I deal with the debilitating and cruel disease of schizophrenia. I fully believe God is sitting right with me, and my loved one. We talked about Jesus’ healing promises, and I recounted that healing by Jesus, while it could look like a miraculous cure for my loved one, more likely will look like increased peace for me. She said that it sounds like I’m looking at the whole arc of God’s grace and love, not necessarily today’s toils. I liked that image, of the whole story or arc. It’s way more long-term than many think of healing and grace and love.

She asked why I felt so much conviction that God was present. I was stumped. Because I do. Because I feel it. Because Scripture promises it. My answers were all about me: what I believe, and feel and sense. She smiled and said that Scripture also says faith is a gift from God. Oh, right. It’s not about me. There’s nothing I did to have faith. God has granted me the immeasurable gift of faith. Alleluia.

Later in the week, I heard from old family friends who we hadn’t talked to in over a year. In an email, they sent greetings, and explained they’d been thinking of us, because of shared experiences when we lived in Seattle. The last time we’d spoken, our loved one was not sick and not living with us. I shared this, feeling a little bad, because it’s a lot to digest in a brief email. But she responded beautifully. She felt bad for our loved one and for us. And then she wrote that her first thought when reading of our news was that this is what faith looks like. I wept.

I am not suggesting that I’ve succeeded with faith. But I am coming to understand that faith is a gift; it’s not mine to succeed at. Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, and it’s nothing my logical self would come to on my own. 

This morning, I’m thinking about how ironic it is that I have faith at all, given how hard this year has been. But I’m unbelievably grateful that I have even a small amount of faith. Without it, I wouldn’t be seeing the overall arc of God’s salvation. By faith, I can.

Dec 21 2019 Acts 16: 6-10

And a vision appeared to Paul in the night.

In the preceding bits from Paul, he’s been joined by Timothy and Silas and this merry band is going from town to town, and we are told, the churches were strengthened in faith and grew in numbers. Reading the long list of towns and countries they visited is exhausting; that’s a lot of people and a lot of good news that’s been shared.

The merry band of disciples head towards Asia, but they were “forbidden by the Holy Spirit” to speak the word of God there. They tried to go to Bithynia, an area of modern day Turkey, but they were not allowed there either. Ironically, Bithynia, where Paul and his pals were precluded to go is home of the town of Nicaea, birthplace of the Nicene Creed.

So Paul has been travelling, going on his own mission trips, and then we hear he’s blocked a few times. Then he gets a vision, clearly directing him to Macedonia. He goes, and continues his prolific ministry. I have to believe Paul was a deep believer and profound prayer. And yet, he travels to at least two places where the answer from God is Nope. Not Today. And Paul continues. So was Paul just mis-hearing his call? Did God change God’s mind? Or was the journey itself to Asia and Bithynia God’s work, rather than arriving and proclaiming God’s word? 

 

This morning, I’m thinking about all the ways I interact with God’s will. I pray. I act. Sometimes those actions are fruitful. Sometimes they seem wasted. Was my effort not really inspired by God, or was God’s will in the journey, not the successful completion of what I thought it should be.

Thinking about this upcoming mission trip, there are all sorts of things I’m learning, and I haven’t even travelled yet. I am learning about another way of thinking about God’s will and work in the world. In the past, when I’ve been faced by a way of thinking that differs from mine, I’m apt to chalk it up to God’s mystery, and peacefully co-exist. And because I’m spending much more time thinking and praying and reading about a perspective that differs, I’m working through many issues I haven’t previously tackled. It isn't as simple as just having a clear vision, like Paul. And God can work on and through me, regardless of the clarity of my path.

All of that is by way of saying that like Paul, I believe my journey is part of God’s plan, not just the destination. Today, I want to think about all of those areas where God’s working God’s plan in me, even though I don’t understand or haven’t arrived at a perceptible destination.

Dec 20 2019 Matthew 3: 13-17

And suddenly a voice came from heaven, saying, “This is My Beloved, in whom I am well pleased.”

This famous phrase comes at the end of a great passage about Jesus and John the Baptizer. John’s been baptizing, and Jesus has not been in the picture yet. The local religious and political leaders show up to be baptized, and John responds with the equally familiar, “you brood of vipers”. John’s upset that people are coming for the idea of baptism, rather than any genuine re-turning to God.

Jesus arrives, and is baptized by John. Upon Jesus’ rising from the water, Jesus saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove on him, and a voice from heaven said, This is my Beloved, in whom I am well pleased.

The pre-trip reflection encourages us to reflect on the immensity of that statement, and how although it was said to Jesus, it is equally true to us. I am God’s beloved. With me, God is well pleased. Those are powerful words, and the source of my all. It is the source of my faith, and my light, and my existence. It is the source of me having any fleeting chance of carrying out God’s commandment; Love God. Love your Neighbor. Because I am beloved by God and please God, I love God back. Because I am beloved by God and please God, I can love my neighbors, whoever and wherever they are.

It is hard to fathom that God says that to me. And I believe deep in my core that upon baptism, the Spirit alighted on me like a dove. And from the water of baptism, a heavenly voice repeated those words. This is my Beloved, in whom I am well pleased. This is shocking, and true.

The part of this story that I’m wrestling with this morning, is the bit right before the heavenly proclamation. John has been baptizing, saying that he’s just the messenger for the one to come later, for the one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire. John says he’s not worthy to even tie the shoes of the one coming next. John is absolutely playing a secondary role to Jesus, and trying to point people towards Jesus. From this place of deeply humble and secondary role, John is shocked when Jesus presents himself to John to be baptized. John tries to stop the baptism, saying that John needs to be baptized by Jesus, not the other way around. But Jesus will not hear of it. He responds that John needs to permit this baptism to happen, to fulfill and complete God’s work throughout the centuries. John concedes and baptizes Jesus.

But if the voice from heaven is spoken to me, if I am a beloved and pleasing child of God’s, than it is equally true for John, right? And yet, John is reluctant to do to Jesus what he’s been doing to others. John is showing that very human tendency of unrighteous humility, where we shy away from what we are asked to do because we think we are not good enough. Jesus is there to encourage him on.

  

This morning, I’m thinking about the requests made of me to do God’s work, where I feel ill-equipped. I’m reminded of when I served as a chaplain in the jail in Seattle. I always felt horrible, when the inmates would ask for a chaplain, and they’d get me. I did not feel equipped, or trained, or ready. I’m not suggesting that humility is bad, but when it makes us shy away from the work God’s calling us to do, it kind of is.

In John’s case, God was present in human form, to encourage John on to do the work God was calling John to do. We do not have that luxury. But we do have the lingering Advocate, or Holy Spirit. We are beloved. God is well pleased with us. We are called to do big and little things for God. We are perfectly equipped. At the end of the day, we are called to Love God. Love our Neighbor. We can do that, because we are first loved by God.

Dec 19 2019 Ephesians 4:14-16

We take our lead from Christ, who is the source of everything we do. He keeps us in step with each other. His very breath and blood flow through us, nourishing us so that we will grow up healthy in God, robust in love. (Translation: The Message)
In a former job, I was responsible for pulling together the strategic plan for a city department that hadn’t had one. To be clear, they had goals – big, lofty, important purposes for being. But day to day, they struggled to stay on the same page. At a kick-off meeting with the leadership, I likened their plan to a family that had all decided to go on a vacation. They agreed on going, but that was about. Dad was checking on flights to Vegas, mom was ready to book a cruise, and the kids were certain they were headed to Disney World. They were all preparing for a trip, but what was missing was a level of agreement that allowed all work to be productive. Add to their plan that they were flying to Florida, and everyone could embark and increasingly efficient tasks. This analogy works when what matters are the tasks and the individual work products put together by the team. And to be clear, it’s critical that they all first agreed on the trip.

The challenges are a little different for a short-term mission team. However, it’s still critical to be on the same page about some things. Thinking about Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, I would suggest that’s what’s most important is different than a city government department. In my family analogy, I think what’s most important is the overall, big, lofty goal, and to put some purpose behind that gol. The family needs to agree to 1) go on a vacation and 2) go on a vacation that entertains the kids, and spends the least amount of time in transit.

I have the opportunity to join a short-term mission trip, planning to work in an orphanage in Guatemala. The danger is if I jump too quickly to the specific tasks, because, I believe, it isn’t about the tasks themselves, but rather about that big and lofty mission. I’m going to share God’s love with the people I encounter while on this trip- team members, orphans, people working at the orphanage, anyone. I will do that in the context of being in a team.

As Paul writes, it is Jesus who keeps us in step with each other, because Christ’s life and blood are in each of us, and unite us, if we let it.

I suspect that most of the disharmony that occurs in short term trips is when we lose sight of the big and lofty commandments. Love God. Love your neighbor. Where I get to do that may change, the language may change and the people with whom I’m walking may change. But the commandment remains. How I love my neighbor is less critical than That I love my neighbor.  

This morning, I’m thinking about how to support and build team cohesiveness by keeping my eye on the end game. Love God. Love my neighbor. Nothing else really matters. The best news is that if I try to do that, I will succeed at doing that; this is one of those few instances where if I try to love God, if I worship and pray, I have succeeded in loving God. If I try to love my neighbor, whoever that may be, I have accomplished God’s purpose. It doesn’t really matter if I, or anyone else on the team are the best builders or cleaners. We just need to love.

Dec 18 2019 Luke 18: 1-8

Will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them.

This morning’s reflection is about our mission team safety, and praying for our needs. With God’s protection, the team is completely safe from any harm, it asserts. Maybe it’s because of my current family situation, but this requires a little exploration, before I’ll swallow this bit of advice.

I do truly believe that with God’s protection all will be well. But the problem is that as dualistic humans, who believe that if one thing is true, the opposite is not, or that there is no way two contradicting truths can be true at the same time. So with God’s protection, we will be safe from all harm. Does that mean that if we endure any problems, it’s because God’s sleeping on the job? Or that we haven’t prayed hard enough? It feels dangerous to me to state that we’ll be completely safe with God’s protection. It begs us to doubt God’s mercy or our prayer if anything wrong happens. It feels like a naïve faith. And to be sure, there are some who believe that if bad things happen, it’s all our fault – preached frequently from the pulpit and big churches as prosperity gospel.

But maybe the problem isn’t the message itself, but what we dualistic humans have done with it. It is true that with God’s protection, nothing will happen. But it’s also true that if something happens, that does not mean we didn’t pray hard enough, or God was attending problems elsewhere. It’s not true on the trip, and not true at home, with my sick loved one. It’s murky and, to my linear thinking, illogical, but there is space for that first assertion to be true – with God’s protection, we will be completely safe – and for the opposite to be true – if something bad happens, God’s grace still abounds and our prayer was sufficient.

Because this is not my normal way of thinking, I appreciate the wisdom of others. Julian of Norwich was an English mystic, who while gravely ill had several visions and encounters of God. Later, she wrote them into a book, Sixteen Revelations of Divine Love. From these writings comes one of the most well-known religious lines, not from Scripture. “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well”.

That’s a lovely sentiment. But it’s even better taken in context. In her vision, she asks God, “Ah, good Lord, how could all things be well, because of the great harm which has come through sin to your creatures?” Yes! That’s framing this issue in the either/or way I think.

But in her vision, God’s answer is brilliant. “And so our good Lord answered all the questions and doubts which I could raise, saying most comfortingly: I make all things well, and I can make all things well, and I shall make all things well, and I will make all things well; and you will see for yourself that every kind of thing will be well. ... And in these words God wishes us to be enclosed in rest and peace.”

It’s interesting to me, that Julian’s optimistic sentiments strike a positive chord with me, while the writer of the devotional feels naïve. With God’s protection, we will be completely safe from any attack of the evil one. I think it’s because the subject of the devotional is on the outcome to us; we will be complete safe. Julian’s reflections focus on God’s intention; all shall be well.

  

This morning, I’m thinking about how I deeply believe that all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well, even if I don’t believe that I’m completely protected from the evil one. Both can be true, as much as it strains my brain to say it.

Dec 17 2019 John 4: 3-36

Do you not say, ‘Four months more, then comes the harvest’? But I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for harvesting.
Jesus has just left Judea and is returning to Galilee. He’s thirsty and stops at a well. Not just any well, but Joseph’s well. This is the well poor Joseph was thrown into to die, by his jealous brothers. That story turns out well, with an odd turn of events, Joseph ends up being made ruler over his own people, after having been saved by Herod’s minions, Potiphar. Very convoluted story, musically dramatized by Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat, but the up shot is that God wrote a wonderful ending to a human nightmarish story.

At this well, there is a Samaritan woman. In the story we hear that she’s got at least three strikes against her, making her one of the lowest of the lows, in social and cultural settings. 1) She’s a woman, and in general that made her not count for much. 2) She’s living with a man, not her husband, which could possibly be a death sentence in some settings and 3) she’s a Samaritan, who were seen as archenemies of the people of Israel. For this situation 2000 years ago, she was absolutely considered “the Other”. Jesus asks this persona non grata for water, and they have an interesting exchange, where he reveals that he’s the very messiah her people have been waiting for. His disciples return, aghast that he’s been talking to that woman.

And wrapping things up poetically, Jesus is able to tell them that they are not to wait for the figurative harvest at some future date, but NOW is the time for the harvest. So from this well, where Joseph’s brothers showed the worst behavior of humanity, with this woman who personified the worst attitudes of humanity, to the disciples who expressed the worst exclusionary sentiments of humanity, Jesus says, now is the time. God can overcome the bad behavior and turn it in to a fantastic blessing. God can see past all of the labels of “Other” put on. God includes all. In the midst of all of that parochial human nightmarishness, God’s dream can happen.

The reflection for the pre-mission trip reminds us that we aren’t necessarily going somewhere to do God’s work, although that’s part of the story. We are already doing God’s work. At our paying day-jobs, with our families, travelling to Guatemala, while there, returning, and returning to our lives. All of it provides opportunity to do God’s work.

This reflection reminds me of how hard it is to engage God loving Christians beyond Sunday morning. They go to church, and then put their God duties away for another week. It’s as if they are taking a weekly dose of God, that will carry them through to the next week, when they get another dose.

There is something romantic about going far afield to do God’s work. The novelty of the event makes us prepare for it differently, and makes us think we are doing something different than what we are asked to do every day. 

When I was in the process to get ordained in Seattle, I had to write the bishop quarterly, reflecting on my faith and journey. At one point, I wrote that I anticipated that I would end up in some far flung corner of the world, doing God’s work; I’ve always felt I’d end up somewhere overseas. In the midst of my formation I moved to Oregon, but completed my process and was ordained in Seattle. At my ordination, the Bishop told the crowd of 400, “Carter said she thought she’d end up in a far flung corner of the world. I never expected that to be Oregon”. Neither did I. But the truth is, I’m unlikely to end up long term overseas, given significant changes in my home world. But the mission field is ripe, right where I am. 

 

This morning, I’m thinking about how easy it is to assume I’m called to do something romantic, grand, and somewhere else. I will have opportunities to do that, but I’m also called to do God’s work that’s mundane, little, and right here.

Dec 16 2019 Philippians 2: 1-4 (Translation: The Message)

If you’ve gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if his love has made any difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care— then do me a favor: Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don’t push your way to the front; don’t sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don’t be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.


This is some great advice from Paul to the people of Philippi. Taking Jesus’ good news to a very incarnational, very human level, he’s telling them what that Spirit looks like in community. This is great advice for any group of people, including the group with which I’m travelling to Guatemala. Paul suggests we should agree with each other, love each other, and I love this – be deep-spirited friends. Yes! Yes! Yes!

While these traits are simple to understand, sometimes they’re harder to live in the midst of our lives. What this looks like in groups is we don’t push our way to the front, we don’t do things to get ahead personally, but rather help others get ahead. We lend a hand, regardless of cost. With this account of what good behavior looks like, there’s an implicit list of the accompanying bad behavior. We try to get ahead. We don’t help others when helping won’t benefit us. We put ourselves first. In summary, bad behavior looks like putting me ahead of the group in which I’m placed – my needs and desires and ego and interests.

The reflection from the pre-mission trip devotional focuses on what happens when we put ourselves in before others. In particular, related to romantic hook-ups. I’m sure that can be a problem, and I appreciate the warning. And, I’m going to stretch the cautionary tale for areas that feel more risky for me now.

I am coming into a new group. I have some skills in administration and churchy things. I have thoughts about scripture. I’ll be in a place that feels as if I have some knowledge and skills. And it’s like me going to someone else’s Thanksgiving Dinner. I have lots of opinions about how to cook a turkey, and what should be on the table. And it’s not my table. I’d never walk in and tell someone how to make sweet potatoes, even if they came down on the wrong side of the great marshmallow debate. My challenge will be to entirely refrain from offering advice about marshmallows, or theology, or the right way to pray. Being right, or being smarter is far less important than being a part. And, as it turns out, I’m not right; I just have opinions like everyone.    

This morning, I’m thinking about Paul’s encouragement to value the group’s needs more than mine. While this is important in my upcoming trip, it’s also important day to day, in my family. I need to remember that while I have opinions about how things can or should be done, I should offer those opinions for the sole purpose of bettering the group, or in my family, helping my sick loved one. It’s amazing how easy it is to cloak our own self-interest in all sorts of false, altruistic motives, when the motives are everything Paul suggests we don’t do – put ourselves first, only help when it helps us. Today, I want to think about being deep-spirited friends to the people in my groups.

Dec 15 2019 Mark 16: 9-20

Go into all the world and proclaim the good news to the whole creation.

Jesus is sitting with the disciples after he’s died. This section of Scripture is likely not an original part of the Gospel of Mark, which originally concluded with the women finding the tomb empty, and a man dressed in white, telling them to not be afraid. The women flee the tomb, trembling and afraid. Some time later, Mark 9-20 was appended that talks about the resurrected Jesus meeting the apostles, and eventually his ascension. This bit of Mark is almost like a postlude, butit does wrap Mark’s Gospel up better than the original text.

As the apostles are siting at dinner, Jesus appears to them and rebukes them for their unbelief. After their rebuke, he commends them to go into the world and proclaim the good news to everyone, everywhere.

The reflection today focuses on the part about going to other places to proclaim, in advance of a short-term mission trip. It talks about how when we’re out of our culture, we can recognize problems in others. Dark spiritual forces are at work in the places we’re going, it tells us. But we are going, as God’s chosen mission workers, to dispel darkness with the armor of God.

I believe some of this is true. Dark forces are at work in the whole world, or at least bad things happen, and God’s light is the answer. But and I fear this reflection is couched in a way to set us up as the ones with God’s light and call, exclusively.

I think we children of God from America can learn from those children of God from America. We can share God’s light. They can share God’s light. We are touched by dark forces. They are touched by dark forces. I do not think I have something better or more or superlative to share. I have my self, and my love, and my time, all of which I hope is undergirded and overshadowed by God.

I believe the work of anyone travelling is to learn, listen and absorb, rather than teach, talk and dispense. Jesus was encouraging his apostles, and now encouraging us to go into the world and proclaim the good news, to show God’s love and light through us. I am also eager to be enlightened and taught by God’s love and light in the people I encounter.

Jesus charged his apostles to go into the world. I am eager to go into the world. I am eager to go and share God’s love working through me. I am eager to go into the world and see dark forces, and try to help shine light on them. I am more eager to go and share God’s love working through them. I am eager to go into the world and see dark forces in me, and have them help shine light on me.

I am not suggesting all is equal. But I do think I have as much to be taught as to teach. 

This morning, I'm thinking about the Prayer of St. Francis. There’s some powerful give and take in this prayer.  I have always loved this prayer, and today, it feels especially relevant to this upcoming trip. Maybe I'll bring copies. I hope that we go with this spirit. 

Lord, make us instruments of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let us sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is discord, union;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.

Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;

to be understood as to understand; 

to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

Dec 14 2019 Mark 4:35-41

Why are you so fearful?

Jesus suggests to his followers that they should cross to the other side of the lake. This is code-word for going to the rougher side of town, as the other side contained the ‘other’. As they were crossing, a big windstorm came up, and meanwhile Jesus is asleep in the front of the boat. His fellow travelers were afraid, and woke him up, exclaiming, “Jesus, do something! Don’t you care that we might perish in this boat?” Jesus woke up, and with his word, calmed to seas. Then he turned to his disciples and asked them why they were afraid?

The reflection from the pre-mission trip focuses on the storm, and about how the evil one might throw up deterrents to the trip, because the evil one does not want God’s will to be done. I suppose that as someone who believes in God, and good forces in the world, I should not chaff at the idea of the evil one and bad forces. But I do chaff. Even if there is an evil spirit, or a devil, or bad forces, I rarely focus on them. In my mind, focusing on or worrying about the devil’s work is like the disciples who awaken Jesus in the storm. Jesus’ response to their panic is to question their faith.

To me, this section of Scripture, and in fact most of Jesus’ teachings is about the opposite, about not worrying about the evil one, but rather focusing and having faith in God. Yes, there are storms. And I don’t know if they are the work of the devil, or meteorological occurrences.

In my own world, I have sick loved one. I don’t know if that’s the work of the devil or unknown brain illness. I don’t think calling it the devil’s work, and invoking Jesus’ name is going to immediately fix it. I don’t think Satan hunted me down to give me a particularly challenging spiritual warfare. I’m not even sure Satan is that concerned with my household to do that, any more than the fact that Satan is concerned that I’m going to Guatemala.

Rather, I think this Scripture is all about the fact that stuff happens. Sometimes bad stuff happens. Storms happen, illnesses happen, flat tires, and traveler’s malaise. And when it happens, I need to keep my eyes focused on Jesus, and my faith in Jesus. Jesus will calm the seas. Even if the seas remain choppy, Jesus can absolutely calm the waters within me. I am less interested in seeing this as an external battle between Good and evil forces.

This morning, I’m thinking about keeping my eye on the ship’s pilot, not the storm itself. I’ve no idea whether there’s an evil force behind the storms in my life, and I am going to spend zero time on thinking about that. This reflection made me recall a wonderful song. Enjoy this recording. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkAvW5cMDzA

 

Dec 13 2019 Philippians 4: 15-17

Not that I seek the gift, but I seek the fruit that abounds to your account.

Paul is writing to the good people of Philippi. He’s thanking them for their support; they began their support of him long before others did, and continue to do so. The reflection in advance of the mission trip I’m taking in January talks about how inviting support from others accomplishes two important things. First, it destroys that sense of self-sufficiency, creating a sense of humility better than nearly anything. Second, it invites others into the journey through their support.

This reminds me of when my husband took a leave from his city job, to go do government rebuilding in Iraq in 2003. He and I’d both been approved to work with a city management organization. But by the time we received word that our applications had been accepted, conditions had deteriorated to the point that it was an unaccompanied assignment; if we were both going to go, we needed to find something to do with our kids.

We momentarily thought about shipping them to the grandparents for 6 months, but decided that we couldn’t do that to our recently-adopted-formerly-abandoned child. So he went, and I stayed. And by that time our eldest child had returned home while her husband was deployed. Me, the German Shepherd, and three kids, and a demanding day-job.

Neighbors offered to help and originally, I brushed them off. No thanks. I’ve got this. But within a week, I realized I could really use the help. So when the offers came to help, I parsed out little, but really helpful things people could do. One neighbor brought up my trash cans, because it was a day with late night meetings for me. Another walked the dog 2 days a week. And another picked up kids. Eventually I had a whole army assisting. And in return for their help, they wanted to know what was going on in Iraq, how it was going.

My husband’s assignment ended early, after his office was destroyed in car bomb. I realized our family’s experience of his assignment now involved my army of helpers; they were absolutely part of his story, as they helped me manage in his absence. Upon his return, I’d organized a big welcome home party, and invited everyone who’d done anything to help. My house wasn’t big enough, so I even enlisted a neighbor to host the party at their house! We had a spectacular evening, with food and wine and stories and slides. It was a Eucharistic Feast!

I originally organized the party because I felt we owed all of these folks in return for their contribution. After the party, I realized that it was a mutual blessing for them to be able to help. They were able to contribute and be a part of his story. When his ‘reports from the field’ were printed in the local paper, they read the articles, knowing they were a part.

When we act self-sufficient and don’t let others in to help, we obliterate the community that is created from the economy of helping. We walk around as if everything depends on us. We don’t engage others in our worlds, We don’t let them help. After months and years of rugged individualism or self-sufficiency, we look around and wonder at the lack of community, when we’re the ones destroying it.

This is what Paul is talking about, when he talks about the benefits to your account. In Eugene Peterson’s book, The Message, he translates this passage, “Not that I’m looking for handouts, but I do want you to experience the blessing that issues from generosity”  I can relate to Peterson's translation; it was a blessing to my army, to allow them to be apart of our story.  

This morning, I’m thinking about ways to invite generosity from others in to my upcoming trip. To begin with, I’d ask your prayers for the team members: Michelle, John, Jack, Evan, Katherine, Kaitlyn, Amanda, Shane, Cindy, Judy, Jan, Betsy, Bethany and me.

Dec 12 2019 John 20: 19-23

Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”

Jesus has died, and his disciples are cowering in the upper room. Mary Magdalene, the formerly-possessed-turned-devout-companion-but-not-named-disciple has just returned to the named disciples telling them she’s seen the risen Jesus in the tomb. This reading is often read on Easter morning, and when proclaiming this Gospel, I can just see the scoffing looks on the other disciples, and the exasperation from Mary, as she tries, in vain, to convince them of her truth.

So here are the disciples in the locked upper room. They’ve locked themselves inside, fearful of further persecution. The Gospel says that Jesus came and ‘stood among them, showing them his hands and side, and then they rejoiced. Not being done with his requests of them, he reminds them that just as he’s come to them, they are to go to others. After this, he breathed on them, and uttered the same words we say when we baptize someone. “Receive the Holy Spirit”.

The disciples are charged, even after Jesus’ death, to go. To go and be peace and love and light. And to help them, Jesus leaves them with the Holy Spirit. This is precisely what we are all called to do. To go. To be peace and love. 

One of the things I do liturgically as a deacon is I offer the dismissal. After the gathered have heard God’s word, confessed their individual and collective sins, been reminded of God’s perpetual love and forgiveness, and shared in a holy meal, I have the honor of sending them out. From the back of the church, I pronounce, “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord”. It feels like a little commissioning; I am privileged to repeat these words of Jesus. Go. Love. Serve. It’s a small part of the service, and I wonder if those who hear these words, her them in the same spirit I say them. When preparing for this short-term mission trip, I am reminded that we are all sent by God to Go. To Love. To Serve. 

 

This morning, I’m thinking about the people who’ve responded to this specific call of God to Go. To Love. To Serve. I am grateful for the opportunity to be the hearer of these words this time, and pray I remember the feeling of hearing them and responding.

Dec 11 2019 1 Timothy 4: 6-16

Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith and in purity.

Paul is writing to a young Timothy words of encouragement. He explains that what really matters is integrity; right speech and right actions, faith and love. With those covered, God will provide what is needed for the job. In Timothy’s case, he moved with trepidation because he was young. Paul tells him to not worry.

This morning’s reflection in advance of the short term mission trip asks me to consider what traits I bring to the table. Recently, I’ve spent time thinking about my personality and skills, and how they are different from those around me. In the world of clergy, I’m definitely an odd duck. With very few exceptions, they are a intuitive, feeling group. I’d go so far as to suggest that their personality, and willingness to respond to God’s call is in part what got them in to ministry. They are a self-selected stereotypically similar group of wonderful humans.

While I can be intuitive and feeling (in the Meyers-Briggs way), those are not my traits. Where colleagues feel things in their gut, or they have a feeling, I understand what is said, what I can see, and what I can touch, frequently missing the subtlties in interactions. Where my colleagues assess situations and respond based on the particulars, I tend to assess situations and remember how we responded to the last similar issue, and aim for consistency. To be clear, neither of these are better or preferred. I am just increasingly clear that in my work world, I cannot presume that others see or respond the same.

I have spent 30 years in bureaucracy management in government, non-profits and now church. I’m a good planner, and good at getting things done. I enjoy organizing things so others can do the work they are called to do; when I worked at United Way, I enjoyed getting agreements in place and evaluations completed, so the social workers didn’t have to. It was a mutually agreeable arrangement.

Finally, I am good at adapting, although sometimes begrudgingly. Earlier this week, we had a scare that we might be forced to move (again) because of an inability of our loved one to follow some of the rules of the apartment. My husband and I spent Sunday afternoon riding all over town trying to find an alternative that would work for our unique situation. I’m not sure we found anything, but other than grumbling about a potential 5th move in 18 months, it was a delightful afternoon, imagining a new reality entirely out of my control.

All of this is to say that I feel I do bring some good traits to the table. To be clear, I’m not without shortcomings, including a deep desire not to look dumb, a preference for routine that some might say is rigid, and a preference to pray from a book, rather than spontaneously. All of this – the good, the bad, and the ugly, I will bring to Guatemala.

And the reflection for this morning reminds me that all of my good traits can be used, my less-than-good-traits be overcome, and that what’s most important is a response with a Yes. The reflection also mentions Jeremiah 1:5, where Jeremiah is reluctant to God’s call. “I am only a boy”, Jeremiah says. God responds, you will go where I send you and say what I shall give you to say. I knew you before you were formed in the womb. And I consecrated you for this.

That’s powerful. God knows me. Called me. Consecrated me to do the work I am to do.  

This morning, I’m thinking about how to continue to let God lead me, with my unique gifts, talents, and challenges, into the places God wants to send me. Frequently in my days, I feel ill-equipped, or over my head. I want to focus on what it is God is calling me to do, and how I’m consecrated for this work. When that prickly sense of, “I can’t” rises up, I want to let God carry me through.

Dec 10 2019 Psalm 37:23-24 (and Commemoration of Thomas Merton)

Our steps are made firm by the Lord, when he delights in our way

Thomas Merton was a Trappist monk, and prolific writer. He was deeply committed to social justice, and spoke out against war. He was a mystic, who thought and wrote deeply about many things spiritual. Like the Gospel of John, I almost understand what Merton writes. In his writing, I catch glimpses of the Holy. Maybe in 2020, I’ll pick up one of his well known writings, such as “Contemplation in a World of Action”, or “Seven Storey Mountain” [sic].  I can imagine there are gems contained in his writing, if I have the dedication to read them.

This morning’s devotional reflection focuses on how planning is important, and also somewhat futile. Plans are made to work in one area, only to have our best-laid plans utterly destroyed, because we are called to another area. Planning to work in evangelism only to arrive days after a natural disaster. Or plans to work rebuilding something, only to discover the supplies are not available as planned.

As someone who’s been in professional jobs with “planner” in the title, I am a big fan of plans and planning. One of the best bits of professional advice I received was at a time when I was an assistant city manager. My job was to help other decision makers get to the place where they could make their decision, in an informed yet efficient way. The presenter at the conference was noting that sometimes we plan and presume the plans are the ends, rather than the means to an end. His point was that yes, make plans. Develop forecasts. Analyze possibilities – all for the purpose of forward motion. Once that next step is taken, the plan was successful, and should be refined given the new reality, and to promote the next baby step. At the end of a project, it is highly unlikely that the original plan remains intact and fully implemented as conceived.

This advice, although not faith-based, was in line with the God-inspired reflection this morning. The steps of the faithful are ordered by the Lord. The point of the writing and the reflection is that it is God’s ordering, not ours. We humans make plans because we need to have some image of tomorrow. And with those fallible plans, we are able to move forward, to take the next step. To get on the plane to work in one way on a mission trip. And yet, it’s God that orders our steps, not us. Again, as a professional planner, I’m not about to jettison my plans. But both by my profession and my faith, I’ve come to realize that the plan is a means to an end. Plans help us mortals take the next step. And plans help us imagine a tomorrow. Unlike God, who’s already at our tomorrow, we don’t have that foresight. Instead, we dream and conjure and plan. And with any luck, we leave enough room for God to intervene, once we make those plans. With any luck, we are constantly correcting and revising and renewing our plan to reflect God’s plan.

One of Merton’s quotes struck me this morning, as I was also reading the pre-mission trip devotional. Merton writes, "a superficial freedom to wander aimlessly here or there, to taste this or that, to make a choice of distractions is simply a sham. It claims to be a freedom of 'choice' when it has evaded the basic task of discovering who it is that chooses."   

This morning, I’m thinking about how our efforts at planning are both necessary and irrelevant, both the way to move forward and, if we’re not careful, the road block to moving forward on God’s plans. God can, and always will use our best-laid plans made in faith. And we need to make room for God’s plans to trump ours.

Dec 9 2019 Ephesians 4:1-3

I, therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you to walk worthy of the calling with which you were called, with all lowliness and gentleness, with longsuffering, bearing with one another in love, endeavoring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.
I am taking a 40 day break from writing about Morning Prayer. I’m not taking a break from conducting Morning Prayer, thinking and musing about it. With sunrise nearing 8:00, and sunset before 5:00pm, I will be on the bus for the next few weeks, during which time I’ll gladly listen to Morning Prayer from Mission St. Clare, as I used to do commuting in Seattle. I’ll also have the luxury of repeating Morning Prayer at work. This is all good for my soul.

Instead, for the next 40 days, I’ll be musing on reading from the book, Before you Go, by Jack Hempfling. In mid-January, I have the opportunity to join a short-term mission trip to Guatemala, with Orphan Resources International. This is a very tender time for me. I get to spend 10 days with people of faith, in action. I get to spend 10 days with my ‘oldest friend’ (or so I told my babysitter at age 3), and I get to return to Spanish-speaking America. My husband and I honeymooned in Peru and Bolivia, and then spent over two years in an unsuccessful attempt to adopt a little girl from Ecuador. All of this, plus my household is very unsettled now, so fleeing for this trip is very very good for me.

This book, Before you Go, was suggested by one of the team leaders. It contains scripture readings, prayers and the author’s musings. Similar to my practice for Morning Prayer, I will read over the material, and reflect on what strikes me for that morning. It may or may not be related to the author’s notions, but this is the Living Word, after all. God speaks through scripture, to where we are at that moment. So here goes.

Walk worthy of the calling to which you are called. That is tough, right? How are we to know what walk we are called to take? I believe this takes lots of listening to God alone, and listening to God in community. Often our life companions can hear or see God’s actions in our lives better than we can. We need to make time and space to be in community with God, to explore God’s action in our lives in community, and be able to listen to one another about what we see.

Paul goes on to say talk about how we are to walk that walk. We need to walk with lowliness, gentleness, longsuffering, and bearing with one another in love. This reiterates for me the fact that we need to be in community, in order to discern God’s call. All of these traits listed by Paul are things that are needed in community, when we’re in that crucible of human interaction. It doesn’t matter if it’s a family, or work colleagues, or church group. Human group dynamics are real, and we need to always walk gently and bearing with one another in love.  

This morning, I’m thinking about groups of disparate people, gathered for a common purpose. When I was in a group of fellow discerners, we went through many of those storming-norming-forming stages common to groups. After a particularly long weekend with the group, I returned to work to recount the struggles. A wise co-worker smiled, and simply said, “It sounds like you are just like Jesus’ disciples”. Jesus’ disciples were dissimilar, held together by their response to Jesus’ call. They survived together with love, longsuffering, and keeping the unity of the Spirit. And they struggled. It’s all part of being in a group.

Today, I pray that I remember that all groups of God’s disciples are better off remembering that group dynamics happen, and with this list of traits – humility, lowliness, gentleness, bearing with one another in Love, and keeping the unity of the Spirit central, we can focus on God’s work, not ourselves. 

I always welcome comments and reflections on these musings, either on the Facebook page, or the blog itself. 

Dec 8 2019 2 Thessalonians 1:5-12

These will suffer the punishment of eternal destruction, separated from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his might

Some years ago, a priest was talking about hell. Rather than the fiery place down below, he described hell as the place where we are separated from God. He went on to say that the separation is of our own making. And while I appreciated the notion that it was not the place with the red devils, I didn’t fully understand, or maybe I didn’t appreciate it.

This morning’s reading from 2 Thessalonians reiterates this notion. Hell, or to suffer the punishment of eternal destruction is to be separated from the presence of the Lord. I have seen this on earth. I have met people so tormented by their past, or by illness, or by grief, that they are separated from God’s presence.

One mother of an adult daughter who died after the birth of her first child blamed God for her daughter’s death. She walked away from church and God, and remained stuck in her grief. I understand her grief. And she was so sad for years to come. She separated herself from God’s love, and suffered.

A faith-filled young couple, fully immersed in orthodoxy, walked away from God and their faith, after the death of a friend. Now they’re angry, and bitter.

People who look at the world now, with all of its war and death, and despots and megalomaniacs. How can there be a God, if this is what we have? These people walk away from God’s love, and remain mired in the despair and cynicism that is bound to happen in the absence of God’s love.

In each case, though, it’s the individual who walks away, strait in to their own living hell. Without a belief in something inherently and constantly good, they see nothing but the pain. To be clear, there’s nothing about my faith in an all-loving God that immunizes me from pain, or makes me blind to the suffering. Worse than just seeing and living the suffering, people who walk away have lost their sense that good wins. That God wins. That love wins.

There is an enduring sense of hopefulness, that comes with faith in God. I’m reminded of Princess Diana’s funeral. A reporter was asking a leading faith leader involved in the memorial why the event seemed so festive. Bells, resounding hymns, a nearly joyous celebration. The priest simply said that it’s a happy celebration, because “we know the rest of the story”. Even amidst death, retaining faith in an all redeeming God keeps us from our own suffering and despair-filled hell.

As a person of faith who’s committed my life to the Church, part of my job is to tell and show people that despite all their suffering, or all they see around them, God is Love, and Love wins. 

This morning, I’m thinking about ways I can bring people back to God’s love, especially people who’ve walked away, into a place of constant suffering without a sense of hope. For me, this isn’t so much about speaking; I’m generally more reserved than to offer fiery speeches, either from a pulpit or out on the world. But I can show people God’s love. Through my actions. Through the love of the church. Through engaging others to do the same. Today, I want to take one action to do this.

Dec 7 2019 Matthew 22: 15-22

‘Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.’
The Pharisees are trying to trick Jesus. They show him a coin with the emperor’s picture on it, and ask him if it’s ok to pay taxes to the emperor. He responds with this oft-repeated quip, give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and to God the things that are God’s.

Matthew recounts that the Pharisees were amazed at this response and went away. I must admit that I’ve always only sort of gotten this. For years, I’ve nodded and smiled, and secretly wondered about this. After all, isn’t everything God’s. Is Jesus admitting that coins, or wealth, are actually the emperor’s, just because he put his picture on it?

I’m guessing there’s more to this, so this morning I’ll wrestle with it.

Maybe Jesus was beating the Pharisees at their own trickery games. They were trying to back him into a corner about if it was legitimate to pay the emperor. He’d already explained that you couldn’t serve two masters, wealth and God. And told people not to store up on earth treasures, only to have them rust. But he will not be tricked

Society has already deemed that currency is needed, and stamped a picture of the emperor on it. Maybe Jesus is simply responding to the trick with tricky language. Pay to the emperor what has been stamped as his.

Maybe this is less about the emperor and his coinage, and more about the absurdity of us claiming anything as ours. When we insist that our fortune is of our own making, our fame is of our doing, our children are the product of us, maybe we, like the emperor, are allowed to fully own what we’ve claimed. Our fortune is of our own making. When we lose our fame and fortune, that were solely our doing, the loss is also our own doing. When our children behave badly, their bad behavior is equally attributable to us.

Yes, pay to the emperor. Yes, you can claim credit for your wealth, health, children. And when your self-made nature falters, you’re stuck with only yourself to blame. 

This morning, I’m thinking about the things that I’ve stamped with my name, the things I think I own or am responsible for. It’s funny that those things are all positive and going well. The other things in life that aren’t all roses, clearly are not of my doing. Hmm.

Maybe I need to recognize that if I claim something as mine or of my doing, I need to own it entirely and consistently, the good and the bad. Today, I want to think about those things that I’ve claimed, either intentionally or implied. I want to instead, give to God all that is God’s.

Dec 6 2019 Amos 5: 1-17

You have built houses of hewn stone, but you shall not live in them;

This morning, we continue with Amos’ dire predictions and prophecy. I know how great your sins are, who push aside the needy at the gate. Because I know all of this, bad things will happen. He does, after some ranting, turn to what the people should do to turn things around. Hate evil and love good. Establish justice at the gates.

While I will never talk about the future in the terms of gloom, doom, and retribution that Amos sees, I do understand that there’s a need for pointing out the future, in hopes to either deter current bad behavior, or encourage good behavior. Amos is not my favorite prophet, and this is another example where I’m grateful the practice of appointed daily readings takes me through Scripture I wouldn’t otherwise touch.

As I read through Amos, I was struck by a couple things he said would happen to the people who ‘trample the poor’. He says they’ll build fine houses, but not live in them, and plant vineyards and not drink their wine.

Recently my husband and I were just talking about the houses we resurrected from near death, and then sold.

One house was dilapidated 800 square foot 1920’s ‘cabin’ for vacationing Seattleites, which was now in prime suburban spot. We put on a new roof, lifted the house to build a foundation under it, took off the asbestos tiles, added some space, and eventually we built a second small home on the property for our eldest pregnant daughter, whose husband had been deployed. This home was on an acre, and eventually had a spectacular vegetable garden and a dozen fruit trees.

Our second resurrected home was in Eugene, and had been vacant for 3 years, with ivy growing into the house, and neighbors able to climb through open windows to see the home of the previous recluse. We lifted that house to repair the foundation, painted, fenced the huge yard to protect from bands of roaming deer – beautiful but not great for gardens, built a chicken coop, and eventually prepared another huge garden with even more fruit trees.

The first home we lived in for 16 years, and we enjoyed some of the fruits of our labor. The second home we were only in for 7 years, so we didn’t really reap much, other than the joy of resurrection. There are definitely moments where we lament the fact that we’re not in the spaces we created, enjoying the grapes we planted. Sometimes we miss them and wonder. . .

Now I live in an apartment. Nothing in it is mine to resurrect or repair. There’s no garden or vineyard. It is a lovely apartment, and given everything else going on in our lives, it is just perfect. There is no chance to get attached to the space or garden. 

This morning, I’m thinking about that balance between feeling grounded in one space and the freedom from not having the deep roots that come with groundedness. It seems that Amos’ warning could be relevant to me, for those times when I ascribe more value to buildings I’ve created or gardens I’ve planted than due. Yes, I’m not living in the fine houses I built, or reaping from the gardens I’ve planted. But without those tethers, I need to create deep roots in something else. I’m spending more time reading, writing, going to gardens, on my bike, walking, going to the farmers market. I can do this in part because I don’t have a house to maintain or garden to weed.

There are definitely benefits from the deep roots created by created space. Today I want to be mindful of the places where I’m creating deep roots that aren’t tied to space.