The Path to Jesus

One afternoon after Easter I came home to discover this pathway made by my 5 year old. She constructed it using plastic Easter eggs from the town's Easter Egg Hunt. I asked her where the path went. She said, "It goes to Jesus, Momma."

"Tell me about that," I said.

"It's like that maze thing we've walked on before. You know, the one where in the center we can be close to God," she explained.

"A prayer labyrinth?" I asked.

"Yes!" chimed in my older daughter.

Many of us like to think that our children are innately spiritual. Kids do seem to have a more intimate connection to God than most adults. But, unless we nurture that connection, they will lose it. As children grow into youth and youth grow into adults, we seem to lose that intimate connection. We become more cynical, more rational, more down-to-earth realistic. We lose that ability to wonder, to imagine, to relate to the Creator in joyous child-like awe.

I love to see how my children connect with God through their play and laughter. We forget how to do that as adults because we are too serious. When we let go of the need to control life, God appears all around us, even in a pathway made with those annoying plastic Easter eggs. That's one of the many reasons why I want to be intentional about helping children and youth to stay connected to God through play and ritual, through love and laughter. When we deepen that innate spiritual connection to God as children, it gives us strong foundations for a lifetime of faith. Those strong foundations help to sustain our faith in adulthood when the storms of life try to tear them down.

My girls have grown up with labyrinths in their lives even before they were born. The church I served while I was pregnant with them had a rose and white laminate floor labyrinth in the Fellowship Hall. I often used it with my youth during youth group meetings. It was open to the public every Tuesday for individuals to walk. I know I walked that labyrinth while pregnant with them. I chased the older child around that labyrinth after church when she was a toddler. The movement in towards the center and out towards the world was a part of their prenatal experiences.

When we moved to Richmond to Union Presbyterian Seminary, we discovered an outdoor labyrinth just yards from our apartment door at the seminary's walking track. My 5 year old learned how to walk and run on that labyrinth. I cleaned up skinned knees from when they fell following its gravel path.

I'm not sure exactly how much praying either one of them has ever done while "walking" the labyrinth. They'd take short-cuts to the center, sit for a few minutes, get up and say, "Okay, chase me now!" Yet, when I came  home to see the plastic Easter egg path to Jesus, I knew they understood what the labyrinth was all about, finding God on the path of our lives. God is already there on the path waiting for us. We have to be intentional about noticing God's presence. We have to slow down sometimes to notice! That's why I love the labyrinth. It will even slow down a child long enough for her to feel God's presence, even if it's just for a moment.

The Critter and the Day of Resurrection

Maundy Thursday began in such an interesting way. As I was feeding my cat, she and I both heard a strange noise coming from the chimney. The damper was closed and wedged shut so there was no way anything was getting inside. But, the noise was spooky and it freaked us both out.

I ran upstairs to wake my husband. My parents were also visiting. So, down came the men to see what was going on. No one wanted to open the damper to let out whatever was in there. It would have been impossible to catch a bird if that flew out of the chimney. Or, most likely it was a squirrel. If one of those rushed out into the family room, I'm sure furniture and books would have gone flying as we tried to catch it. Imagine Chevy Chase chasing the squirrel in National Lampoon's Christmas. That would have been us!

Instead, we decided to leave it there and see if it could get out on its own. We put an end table against the glass doors to keep them shut just in case it got by the damper. Then we waited.

All day Thursday it continued to make terrible scratching sounds. Thursday night, it grew silent. When the sun came up on Friday, it began again. Were we just going to leave it there and wait for it to die?

That sounded like the only option available to us. Until I googled, "how to get a squirrel out of your chimney."

The suggestion I found was to put a rope down the chimney and wait until it climbed up the rope on its own. Since my husband is afraid of heights, my father climbed the ladder, dropped a rope down the chimney, and tied it down. Then, we waited.

We waited until Sunday afternoon. We hadn't heard any noise from the chimney since sometime on Friday. My dad climbed back up the ladder and untied the rope. Then, my husband slowly opened the damper to see if anything would fall out.

Nothing!

The chimney was empty!

Thankfully, the chimney was empty and whatever was in there managed to use the rope to get out! I thought a lot about this incident that paralleled the Easter weekend. The critter became trapped on Maundy Thursday. While it didn't die, it wasn't until Easter afternoon that we discovered it was free. It felt horrible to know that the animal was going to die unless we could find a way to free it. I am thankful that my dad was visiting so he could climb the ladder and tie the rope which enabled the critter to escape its potential tomb.

I hope you had a wonderful Easter Sunday filled with the promise of new life.

The tomb is empty! Thanks be to God!

The Old Rugged Cross

We were standing in a nursing home in Philadelphia, Mississippi wondering what we were there to do. The youth crowded near me as this was an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces. Volunteering in the nursing home was a little bit of a surprise for us. The mission trip's purpose was working on the Choctaw Reservation, painting houses. Not volunteering in a nursing home.

The residents were excited to see us. Fresh young faces. They smiled at the youth and began talking with them. Some of the youth opened right up as they realized the wrinkled faces were no different from their grandparents. Others were still unsure.

A man with a guitar showed up and began to play music. Soon everyone began to sing. We sang all kinds of songs: religious songs, funny songs, songs from their youth. Many of the youth joined in and happily sang along.

At one point, Tabitha reached over and tapped me on the shoulder. "Look at them," she said. I turned and saw an elderly couple sitting in the back. They were holding hands, obviously still very much in love. Tabitha said, "I want to find love like that. That is so sweet."

The song leader asked for requests and someone wanted "The Old Rugged Cross." I'm not sure exactly what happened next. Somehow, Caitlin and I ended up at the front singing a duet as we led the group in "The Old Rugged Cross." It went painfully slow as we sang all four verses. Caitlin looked at me with eyes that said, "Can't we speed this up?" We could only sing as fast as the accompanist played. It was almost as if Caitlin and I were killing Jesus ourselves.

Yet, as we looked into the eyes of the residents, we knew it spoke to them. It spoke of their faith they had nurtured their entire lives. A faith that was real and present to them as they faced the illnesses that plagued them in the present. A faith that gave them hope for the days they faced ahead. Especially the day that was closer to them than they wanted to admit. The day of their death.

As I prepare to sing this song in worship today, my mind returns to that nursing home in Mississippi. I see that couple who had experienced a lifetime of love and still held hands deeply in love with each other. I see a wrinkled face that found hope in an old rugged cross. I see the faces of youth who learned that love and faith are powerful ideals that can carry us through whatever we may experience in this life. I see hope that empowers us all that came to us from a hill far away. For that rugged cross on the hill far away, I am very thankful.

The Sorrow

In those moments, when the sorrow descends and rests upon your heart, your whole world changes and it will never be the same again. At least that was the way it was for me when I heard the words, "I'm sorry but there is no heartbeat. Your baby has died." The sorrow comes like a thief in the night stealing the joy from your life.

I've thought about that day a lot recently as politicians have recently discussed women's health issues in the news. Once again, abortion is a hot political topic. Once again, birth control is up for debate. Honestly, these are both issues I thought were decided a long time ago. Why must it come up again and again?

I thought about that day as I read about Michelle Duggar's recent miscarriage. The sorrow she is experiencing is immense. I cannot even begin to imagine living it out on TV with all the world to watch. All I wanted to do was hide, to bury myself deep under the blankets and not come out until I could forget. The problem is you can't forget. Even now, eight years later there are days where I remember the pain, the sorrow, and the dreams that were lost. Even now, with two healthy children who are the light of my lives, I will always remember what might have been.

The sorrow, the emotions, and the reality of life is what always angers me when politicians use issues like birth control and abortion to "win" votes. These are not clear-cut issues with right or wrong answers. The answers here are as varied as the stories of the women who tell them. Listen to my story and see how recent politicians' viewpoints would have impacted me.

It was 2004. My husband and I had been married for 4 years. After much discussion, we decided we would try to get pregnant. Well, there is no trying for me. I'm about as fertile as they come and it didn't take long for the line on  the stick to turn pink. Yes! I'm pregnant. We were very excited. But we didn't tell anyone in the beginning. We wanted to wait until we were through that tricky first trimester. Well, we did tell our boss, the senior pastor, because he was leaving on sabbatical. We thought it might be weird for him to come back and find me 6 months pregnant!

Soon, after much anxious waiting and hopeful planning, I went to the doctor for a 12 week check-up. Only, as I lay on that table, she got a concerned look on her face as she felt my belly. Then, she tried to find a heartbeat. Her eyes grew darker. I could tell something was wrong just by looking at her. She said, "Oh, it might be nothing but we need to get you scheduled for an ultrasound." Only, that would take 3 days. Three of the longest days of my life.

When my husband and I arrive for the ultrasound, the tech is all cheery. Until he reads my file. He starts the procedure and finds a small fetus. But, it's so small he can't see what is going on with it. He turns to me and says, "Hon, I'm gonna need you to go get undressed because I need to do a trans-vaginal on you." "I'm sorry, but could you explain to me what that is first," I say to him. So, he does. And, I cooperate. And, yes, it is very uncomfortable. I WANT to know what is going on with this baby, but, I can not fathom any good reason why a politician would make a woman have one of these invasive ultrasounds before she chooses to have an abortion.

The trans-vaginal ultrasound does it's job. It lets us know that I have indeed miscarried. My fetus stopped developing at 8 weeks. Here I am at 12 weeks carrying a baby that has no heartbeat. A baby I had hopes and dreams for. But, it is gone.

Yet, it's not gone. It's still there in my uterus. The medical term is a "missed miscarriage." No one knows how long I could have carried that non-developing fetus in me. It might have stayed there for months had I chosen to let it abort naturally. My doctor said we could stay the course for about a week and see what happens. Or, I could have a D & C that very day. The sooner it happened, the better for my uterus. The longer this baby stayed there the more likely I could develop a serious infection. But the choice was mine to make.

The choice was mine to make. Not some politician in Georgia who says I should carry a dead fetus full-term no matter what. The choice was mine. I was the one dealing with all of the emotions, all of the sorrow. I needed to end this pregnancy which had already ended itself. I needed to "clean house" and move on, at least physically. Mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, I had a ways to go. But, it was my choice to make. So, I made it. On Friday, May 28, 2004, I had a medically necessary abortion because of a missed miscarriage. One of the saddest days of my life.

The sorrow that comes from losing a pregnancy can be overwhelming. The emotions each woman faces is very different. Different as each story. Different as each woman. The sorrow I have experienced this past month as I have read different politicians (both male and female) express definitive view points on this issue has almost overwhelmed me. And, I am angry. I am angry that many think issues like abortion are either black or white. It is not. Especially when stories like mine, an abortion that was not wanted but needed, becomes a part of the political foray.

I cannot tell you what to think or how to vote or what you should believe. I only want to tell you my story so you can understand that there is no right or wrong answer when it comes to these politically divisive issues. Personally, I believe abortions should be avoided at all costs. But, to completely outlaw them will only make our world an even more tragic place to live. If you haven't watched Dirty Dancing in a while, you should! That movie has a lot more to say about abortion than it does dancing.

Many will say to me that I did not have an abortion. Yet, there are politicians out there today who want to make what I did illegal. How is that helping anyone? How is that helping our society? It's not. You see, that's a private decision that needs to be made between a person and her doctor. Plain and simple.

I believe our arguments over political issues like abortion and birth control sadden God. God knows we live in a crazy place. God knows there is sin in our world. God knows that we will make mistakes. What God really wants is for us to come together to talk about our differences. God wants us to respect each other. God wants us to love each other. God wants us to honor each other's opinions. God wants us to love our enemies. Because when we do, that's when the Kingdom of God is most present in our world. And, the sorrow that surrounds us all is replaced with a sense of peace.

The Sewing Project

The huge project my daughter and I worked on a few weeks ago received a blue ribbon. I mentioned this project in my post The Spiritual Art of Sewing. The project was to decorate a potato. In case you can't tell by the picture, she made a Chinese girl by the Great Wall. It was a lot of work. We had a lot of fun, too! She did a great job. I just love her smile.

Stepping Out Into Darkness

“Stepping Out Into Darkness”

Rev. Nancy Dunn

March 25, 2012
John 12:20-36

Have you seen the Hunger Games movie yet? It’s the one that just came out this weekend much to the delight of many teenagers and young adults everywhere. Of course, it was a book trilogy first. And, if you do go to see it, I recommend reading the books first. Even if you don’t go to see it, I still recommend reading the books.

While religion does not specifically play a part in either the books or the movie, for those with a keen mind, the morals and ethics, the spiritual story of Christianity can be seen in the character development of these young teens who are forced to make life and death decisions that many of us would never dream we would have to make. It is an allegory of love; the kind of selfless love given to us by God our creator through the Son, Jesus Christ. It is the kind of “love that sacrifices itself for the sake of others, that sees the hurt and pain in the world and offers healing, and that sees the hungry and feeds them.”[1]

The main character of the trilogy is Katniss Everdeen. She is a 16 year old whose father died five years before the story beings in a horrific coal mining accident. In the years since her father’s death, she managed to keep her family alive through her illegal hunting and gathering methods. Her world is a dark and terrible place. There is little hope for anyone who is not already privileged, wealthy citizens of the Capitol. The darkness consumes the lives of those who live in the 12 Districts ruled by the Capitol. The country, Panem, is ruled by a wealthy Capitol that keeps the Districts dependent on it for survival. Each district is forced to satisfy the Capitol’s needs for food, fuel, and materials. The districts are pretty much enslaved by the Capitol. The Capitol keeps them in check by reminding them of what happened to the obliterated District 13 and through the Annual Hunger Games. Each district must send 2 youth, a boy and a girl, to the Capitol to participate in a Survivor-like gameshow. The big difference between the Survivor currently on TV and the Hunger Games is that the contestants literally kill each other off until only one is left.

The youth are chosen through a lottery each year. And, at the beginning of the book, we find out Katniss’ little sister is the girl chosen this year to represent District 12. Katniss has always protected her little sister, so she immediately volunteers. That is only the first act of self-sacrifice in this exciting Trilogy. Katniss’ act of self-sacrifice and the genuine gift of love and life given to her by Peeta, her fellow contestant from District 12, helps start a rebellion throughout all of the Districts against the Capitol.

The Hunger Games is a novel about the outsiders, the enslaved who give of themselves to others in order to change the world for the better for others. Katniss leaves her dark life behind only to be consumed by a darker reality. She is taken away to fight to the death, and through countless brave acts she unknowingly becomes a symbol of light and hope to the future. As she enters the grand arena for the entrance parade, she is dressed in an outfit that is literally on fire. That gives her the name Katniss, the Girl on Fire. She provides the light to the rebellion. She shows them the way.

There is a scene in the movie that did not take place in the book. It really caught my attention as it relates to our scripture this morning. The President of the Capitol is talking with the Seneca, the Head Gamemaker about this amazing girl on fire. “Seneca, why do you think we have a winner?” President Snow asks while cutting a white rose. “What do you mean?” Seneca replies. “I mean, why do we have a winner?” Snow repeats, before pausing. “Hope,” he says. “Hope?” Seneca replies slightly bewildered. “Hope, it is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective, a lot of hope is dangerous,” Snow declares. “Spark is fine, as long as it’s contained. So, contain it,” Snow warns.

“Hope, it is the only thing stronger than fear. Spark is fine, as long as it’s contained. So, contain it.” I imagine Jesus knew that those against him were saying words like this to one another. Caiaphas probably let similar words fall from his lips as he talked with his fellow leaders of the Temple and later with Pilate. Jesus himself knew that his time was drawing to a close. The darkness of the world began to surround him. The darkness came to swallow him up as it tried to put out the light, the spark that others saw and received from him.

The scripture begins with the Greeks coming to see Jesus. When Jesus hears that his message has reached even these foreigners, he knows that his time must be near. Instead of talking with the Greeks, Jesus tells everyone that his hour has come. He goes on to share that he, like a grain of wheat must die and be buried in order to produce much fruit. Without his death, others would not know or experience the love of God offered to us through Christ Jesus.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus is described as the Light in more than one place. In John 8, Jesus declares, “I am the Light of the World.” Those who followed him, followed the light. He wanted to bathe them in the light. Have them soak it up the way many of us tried to soak up the sun this past week. Because he knew that the light would soon fade away. He knew that his time of leading the disciples by the hand was coming to an end. He knew they must be prepared to step out into the darkness without him. Jesus needed them to catch hold of the spark he offered them so they might burn and become an amazing fire, ready to consume the hearts of everyone who heard the good news. Ready to consume the hearts of everyone who received God’s amazing love. Ready to spread that love and hope and fire to others. “Spark is fine as long as it’s contained.” It’s hard to stop a little spark once it reaches tender. Little did those first century Romans, Jews, and Greeks know how big that fire would grow.

In some ways, our world is not too different from the world of Katniss or the world of Jesus. Darkness exists in the world. Bad things happen to us and around us each day. And, if we are not ready to face that darkness, the light in our lives can be extinguished.

To put it another way, each day the sun sets and the light fades into the night. We must keep our lamps ready to shine light into the night so we do not lose our way. If we don’t keep fresh batteries, our lights will go out and the darkness can consume us. Sometimes it can happen even before we realize it or are ready for it. Just like the disciples were not ready when Jesus was arrested, crucified and buried. Many of them abandoned him. Peter denied him. Only the women and John were there the day he was crucified. The darkness overcame the other disciples. They were not ready for it.

When dark times come into our lives, the darkness can overwhelm us even before we have a chance to get our flashlights out. What turns off the light in our lives is different for each of us. For some it’s the death of a loved one. For others it’s the end of a dream they have strived years to achieve. It could be the loss of a job. An untimely illness. A sudden car wreck.

For Patrice Williams, it was the discovery that her newborn baby had a rare genetic skin disease called Epidermolysis Bullosa. Her son Jonah’s skin is so sensitive that the lightest touch can cause it to blister and fall off. Through much prayer, medicine, and love, Jonah is a happy three year old. But it’s a hard life that confines them to their home many days as they deal with one medical need after another. Yet, as she tells their story in her blog, she writes about love and faith that sustain them and how God has blessed them with life. She writes about hope and the importance of their church community that gives them strength for each new day. She writes of how they know they are the BLESSED ones because of all the blessings Jonah has brought into their lives despite the hardships of each day. The darkness that came with the diagnosis; the darkness that came with the end of their dreams did not overwhelm them. Instead, the light and love of Christ overcame that darkness. The light and love of Christ gives them hope that one day there will be a cure. The light and love of Christ gives them hope that each day will be a blessing simply because Jonah is with them. The light and love of Christ gives them hope that their story will be an inspiration to others whose lives are overwhelmed by the darkness of the world showing others the way to the light of Christ.[2]

Our scripture today concludes with these words, “While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light.” After Jesus had said this, he departed and hid from them.” Jesus, the light of the world, steps out into the darkness. He steps out into the darkness that threatens to consume our very souls. Yet, he is not consumed by it. It does not overwhelm him.

Instead, the light he provides shines in our dark world beckoning us to come to him. When the darkness of this world overwhelms us, we must get our spark from him. He is the spark that cannot be contained. He is the hope that is stronger than our fears. Jesus is the One who has come to save us and give us eternal life. Thanks be to God.

Amen.


[1] Julie Clawson, “The Hunger Games: An Allegory of Christian Love,” Huffington Post, 20 March 2012 (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/julie-clawson/hunger-games-allegory-of-christian-love_b_1365594.html?ref=religion).
[2] Patrice Williams, Before the Morning, http://patriceandmattwilliams.blogspot.com.

The Spiritual Art of Sewing

My older daughter and I are in the midst of a huge project for school. She is a dreamer and loves to think up grand ideas for her assigned projects. I indulge her as I long to be crafty but have limited talent. And, I have to admit I do love to help her with the projects. The latest project is the Annual Elementary School Potato Decorating Contest.

Trust me, it's more complicated than you think. These kids go all out to decorate a potato. Yes, that's right. A potato. Last year, we used felt to make a simple Irish girl. Some cutting here. A little bit of glue there. Yarn for the hair. Glue gun burn on my finger. And, it was complete. She won a second place ribbon. It was our first potato and I had no idea how much work some of the older kids put into this project. So this year we are dreaming big!

This year, we are building the Great Wall of China, painting a backdrop for it, and sewing a dress for this potato. We made the dress yesterday with the help of a friend from church. It was fun to cut out the dress together. And, both of my daughters loved using the sewing machine. The adults did some of the more complicated sewing. Everyone did their part. It looks cute. Today, we start the backdrop.

This project got me thinking again about sewing, specifically the people in my life who sew. One of my spiritual mentors from childhood is a fantastic sewer. She can sew anything. She made banners for church, blankets for needy kids, Christmas ornaments, all kinds of things. It was always amazing to see what she could make. Her husband is also crafty. He could make all kinds of things out of wood. Together, they could craft just about anything.

One of the greatest things this couple made were not craft projects though. It was the relationships they intentionally built with the youth of my childhood church. Each year they were mentors for a youth in the pastor's class. They took time to get to know us. I can remember lots of meals at Burger King with them where we would talk about life, church, God, and the world. It didn't matter what we talked about. The important thing was the time they spent with me and the other kids at church.

Through their actions, we learned that we were important, that God loved us, and they cared about us. Being connected to adults other than a parent is very important for the spiritual health of a child. It's vital for kids to know that they are valued by other adults. When children know they are valued and respected for who they are, it helps build their self-esteem. It gives them confidence to build other relationships. And, from a spiritual perspective, children gain healthy role models for spiritual growth.

I am thankful for the many adults in my life who helped me grow into the person I am today. I am thankful for the many adults in the lives of my children who are helping them grow in their faith and knowledge of God. While this potato project may be a lot of work, it gives me a lot of time to spend with my girl. So, thank you, Mr. Elementary School Principal for coming up with these crazy projects that give me more intentional time to spend with my daughter. For us, it's good spiritual time, too!

Leaving the Past Behind

I think God is trying to tell me something today. Both of my morning devotional readings talked about leaving the past where it belongs: in the past.

Learning to do that is hard. It is easy to remember the glory days of our youth, the big events that define our lives. When we achieve something big, like winning an award, we want to stay there and soak about the accolades. We want to keep those happy moments in our minds always. Those moments of joy are wonderful, who wouldn't want to keep those feelings always present?!

But, it's also easy to allow the negative events in our lives to overwhelm us. To remember moments of defeat and always wonder what went wrong. To wallow in the mud pits of our lives and never move forward. In some ways this is a lot easier to do than living in our past moments of joy. It seems like there are always more negative events to dwell on, even if they weren't really as negative as we remember them. Why is it that we allow ourselves to let the negative events that happen to us to rule over our lives? That's not what God wants for us. And, it's certainly not what we should want for ourselves.

Another way I tend to live in the past is to recognize the good things, the good people I've encountered in the past only after they are gone. Sometimes I'm so busy working or I'm so distracted by other things, I let the good things - the God things - pass me by. And, when I've moved on or my life situation has changed, I realize what I've truly missed!

The God lesson I'm learning today is to live in the present. This is a lesson I constantly need to learn. I've preached about it. I've taught classes about it. But, it's one of those lessons we need to learn over and over again. Today, I'm focusing on today. Which includes a sewing lesson! Pray for me! :)

We Are Only Human

By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return. ~ Genesis 3:19


Last night we had a wonderful Ash Wednesday worship service. The music was from Taize. Candlelight illuminated the chancel. Time spent in silence restored my soul. It was breathtaking.


The moments that I will treasure most from that service came when the Senior Pastor and I put a small cross of ash and oil on the worshipers foreheads. As I looked into the eyes of those who came forward, my heart smiled at the joy of seeing them. Yet, my heart was also breaking as I said the words, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Repent and believe in the Gospel." 


Ash Wednesday does a good job of reminding us that we are mortal. We are human. We are all in various states of dying. Some closer to death than others. Some realize they are dying; others think they can live forever. Most of us do not want to face the idea of our own deaths. We run from the very idea of it. We shield our children from death, often not allowing them to attend funerals or view an open casket. We as a people are afraid of dying.


As I stood on the steps of the chancel last night placing ashes on the foreheads of the young and the old, my heart was breaking with love for each person I crossed. One woman who has had health problems approached me. As I put the cross on her head and said the words, I wanted to say so much more to her. I wanted to tell her what a witness her faith is to others. I wanted to hug her and tell her how much she means to so many people. I wanted to say thank you for all that she does in this life. And, I silently prayed a selfish prayer to God to keep her healthy and to keep her here. 


Yes, when people die we are sad. Very sad. Our grief can even overwhelm us. Yet, thankfully, because of our faith in Christ, we know that this world is not all that God has for us. Our bodies return to the dust from which we come. But, our spirits, our souls live on with God forever. I admit that I don't know what that looks like and, in some ways, that doesn't even matter. It's the knowing that life goes on after death that matters. Both here and in heaven. Life goes on. Amen.

God is My Rock

⁵For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him.

⁶He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken.

⁷On God rests my deliverance and my honor; my mighty rock, my refuge is in God.

⁸Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us. - Psalm 62:5-8

God is my rock. This was the scripture from my morning prayers. I often need to be reminded that God is my rock. Like a solid rock that has lasted for millions of years, God is not going anywhere. I may move frequently. I may change my mind. I may run away from God. But God, the rock, is always there. I can rest and rely on the One who stands ready to receive me at all times.

As we enter into the Lenten season tomorrow, remembering that God is my rock is a good thing. I am so human. Even though I am an ordained minister, I am still human. I make mistakes. I sin. I say, think, and do things I should not. These sins may not be huge compared to some sins committed in this world. But, they are sins, none-the-less. 

Tomorrow, as I pause in prayer before the Lord, I will pour out my heart to God. I will find my refuge in God. I will offer God my heart again. And, as I spend the next 6 weeks preparing for Easter, I will seek out the One who offers me unconditional love and forgiveness. 

A Sermon on Mark 9:2-9

As an Associate Pastor, I preach about once a month. Yesterday was one of those days. Here's my sermon from yesterday.

“The Holy Mountain”

Mark 9:2-9

February 19, 2012 ~ Transfiguration, Year B

I have a confession to make this morning. I am a huge Little House on the Prairie fan. Huge. I love the books and the TV show. My sister and I watched that show all the time when we were kids. I still watch it whenever I can find reruns on TV. I love it. There are so many good things about that show: the family values, their simple yet honest lifestyle, their work ethic, and of course their faith. I don’t believe there was a single episode of that show that didn’t illustrate the importance of the characters’ faith in their everyday lives.

I confess my love for this show this morning because sometimes while reading scripture scenes from Little House on the Prairie will enter my mind. As I was reading the scripture before us today, a particular scene popped into my head. No matter how hard I tried to shake it, I kept seeing it over and over again. Now, you might find it a stretch to see how this scripture relates to that scene, but just go with it this morning as I try to explain it to you.

In the middle of the first season of Little House, there was a two part episode called The Lord is My Shepherd. It begins with Caroline Ingalls telling Charles that she is going to have a baby. That baby is the long-prayed for son, Charles Jr. Of course Laura is very jealous of her little brother and the attention given to him by their father. So, when he becomes deathly ill, she refuses to pray for him. Shortly thereafter, he dies. Like any young girl, Laura becomes distraught and internalizes the guilt she feels for her brother’s death.

At the end of part one of the episode, we see the family in church and the Rev. Alden is giving a sermon on how with God all things are possible. After the sermon, Laura talks with him about what he said. Basically, she wants to know how to get a miracle from God. In the conversation, Rev. Alden says to her, “The closer you are to God, the more likely he is to listen.”

Thinking with the literal mind of a child, Laura takes his advice to heart. She runs away and climbs a mountain. She thinks if she is physically closer to God, closer to heaven, then God will hear her prayer. So, she leaves home in the middle of the night, and finds herself looking up at a glorious mountain. She hears the voice of Rev. Alden saying, “The closer you are to God, the more likely he is to listen.”

“The closer you are to God, the more likely he is to listen.” How often do we find ourselves in a similar place. We think we want or need something from God. Or there is something about our lives that we want God to explain to us. And, we think if we could just do something, just be closer to God, then we could get the answers to our prayers. We want to do something. Anything to help us understand, but we don’t know what. We pray as hard as we can. We try saying all the right words in just the right way. We just want to understand. But, somehow our efforts are still lacking.

I think this is how Peter probably felt when he was on the mountain with Jesus and James and John. The scripture doesn’t tell us why they went up that mountain. Six days before, Jesus had talked with the disciples about who people think he is and about his impending death. Peter confesses that Jesus is the Messiah. But, when Jesus insists he is going to die, Peter tries to talk him out of it. Jesus rebukes him.

Now, six days later, Jesus takes Peter up the mountain with him. I think Peter wanted to make sure that he got the right answer this time for whatever was going to happen next. So, when they are up on this mountain, Peter sees this amazing sight. Like the stories about Moses in the Torah, Jesus glows with this other-worldliness. A bright light emanates from his face. Moses and Elijah appear beside him and start talking with him. Surely, this amazing site had to overwhelm all of Peter’s senses. Yet, there he is trying to stay on top of things and he wants so badly to say the right thing. So, instead, he says completely the wrong thing. Have you ever done that? I know I have. It usually happens when I’m too wrapped up in my mind with trying to THINK about what I should say next or what I’m supposed to say that I totally just miss what is happening around me. I stop experiencing the world around me. I stop listening to the other person who is trying to interact with me. And, I completely miss something spectacular – a God-moment.

There on that holy mountain, Peter is so absorbed in trying to say the right thing to Jesus that he is missing this amazing God-moment. There on that holy mountain something amazing, something beyond words, something beyond even our own imagination is happening and Peter tries to talk himself through it. Peter has this amazing mountain-top experience of God and he’s at a loss for what to do with it. He jabbers away and says something about building a house or monument for Jesus, Elijah, and Moses. He wants to memorialize this event because he knows it’s special even if he can’t explain it himself.

But, then the experience is over just as suddenly as it began. Moses and Elijah are gone. The voice of God is now silent. The clouds, the glorious light, they are now gone. It is only Jesus and the disciples. The mountain-top moment is over and they must head back down to the valley below.

Life is like that. Just when we are experiencing a wonderful moment, it’s over. We finish school and experience that moment of graduation. But, then it’s over and it’s time to find a job. Or, we can spend months if not a year or more, planning a wedding. Then, just like that, you come home from the honeymoon and it’s time to adjust to everyday living. Then there’s summer camp. A week that goes by way too fast. Or that perfect job we’ve always dreamed of, that’s not that great once we get it.

We can spend so much time anticipating these glorious events, planning for them even that when they finally do occur, we’ve run out of energy to enjoy it. Or we built it up way too much in our heads to appreciate it for what it simply is. We can also spend too much of our lives simply walking by something absolutely wonderful without noticing it.

In 2007, the Washington Post did an experiment at a DC Metro station. Joshua Bell, a talented concert violinist, played for an hour one morning as people were on their way to work. They wanted to see how many people would stop and notice. Only 6 people paid attention. One was a small child. Another was a man who stopped for 3 minutes because he was 3 minutes early to work. Everyone else just passed him by. [1]

We can be blind to the goodness that is all around us because we are caught up in our own desires, our own daydreams that we miss the wonders that God puts right in front of us. Katherine Huey puts it this way, “We live our lives mostly down here on the ground, unaware of the wondrous, transformative power of God at work in the world.”[2]

The world we live in is a very busy place. We are always going here, doing that, fixing this, and cleaning that that we often let it pass us by. We rush headlong into life that we sometimes forget to live it. And, then we read a scripture like this one and we are puzzled. What does this mean for me? What in the world is God trying to say to me through this text?

Perhaps that is what it was meant to do. To stop us in our very tracks. To get our attention and say notice this, “This is my Son, Jesus, listen to him!”

Did you know we are only 6 weeks away from Easter? In some ways it feels like we just finished with Christmas. Yet, this Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, the start of the church season of Lent. Yes, that’s the time when many Christians give up something like chocolate as they prepare themselves for Easter. But, it’s more than that. It’s the perfect time for God to stop us in our tracks so we can take a look around us to see God’s hands on our world. It’s the perfect time to reflect on our lives, repent of our sins, and renew our faith in Christ as we prepare for the glorious resurrection on Easter morning. Lent is the perfect time to listen for the voice of God as we pause to breathe in Christ’s holy presence into our very lives.

We don’t have to go climb a mountain to be closer to God. We don’t have to find the right words to say to please God. We can just stop and rest and be in God’s presence.

In one of her poems, Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote, “Earth’s crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God; But only he who sees, takes off his shoes, The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.”[3] God’s presence is all around us. God is waiting for us to notice, to see God’s presence in and through others all around us. And, when we do, God wants us to fully be in that moment. To experience it for all it is. To be quiet and to listen.

Then, when that moment is over, just as Jesus and the disciples went down the mountain returning to their work of healing and teaching others, we too are called to return to the world. Yet when we return, we return filled with the presence of God. And, we can share that presence; we can share God’s presence, God’s love, God’s compassion with the world that is starving to be fed the good news. Amen.

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[1]Gene Weingarten, “Pearls Before Breakfast,” Washington Post, 8 April 2007 http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/04/AR2007040401721.html

[2] Katherine Matthews Huey, “Last Sunday after Epiphany Year B Transfiguration”, http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/february-19-2012-last-sunday-after.html

[3] Elizabeth Barrett Browning, “From Aurora Leigh”, http://www.bartleby.com/236/86.html

Where the Goose Calls

I have thought about blogging for years now. But, I've always stopped and put it off. Well, today is the day. Today is the day for my very first blog post. Now, what should I write?

I chose the name "Wild Goose Beckons" from a song my dad sang to me as a child. Recently, as I have studied Celtic Christianity, I have come to understand the Wild Goose as symbolic of the Holy Spirit. I love that idea! The wild goose is such a wonderful bird to see in flight, especially flying together as a flock in V formation. On a beautiful clear day, the V of the geese stands out in glory against the blue sky. I want to join that V and fly away with the wild goose! I want to go wherever God may lead me.

We see lots of those birds here in Ohio. And, I love to hear their call beckoning one another on as they fly south for winter only to return again in spring. The call of the wild goose has led me to many different homes in this great country of ours. I grew up in eastern NC. The call from God led me first to Fort Worth, TX for seminary. From there, God called me to Bowling Green, KY. Then, that crazy goose called my husband to return to school for a PhD. So off we went to Richmond, VA. I'm not exactly sure that call was for me to move there. Those three years were pretty tough on me. So, we listened again only to hear the goose beckoning us to move north, to northeast Ohio. It's quite different up here in the north, where Canada appears on our weather maps. But, so far, it's been amazing. God has opened my eyes to new ways of being in ministry and relationship with others. Nowhere has ever felt like HOME as much as this church and this town. It really is amazing the way God works in our lives.

Learning to hear the beckoning call of the Wild Goose is a huge part of my spiritual life. It requires patience, trust, faith, and love. My heart and ears are open. I am open to learning from and following the beckoning call of the Wild Goose.